#*soft cell plays in the background*

[strawberry-nugget]

You ask Katsuki to give you a massage and end up with him blowing your back out♡♡

Warnings: smut, 18+ minors do not interact, fem!reader, happy ending massage, p in v sex, fingering, (some light) anal fingering, oiled up sex yall #holyfuckingairball, slight!dirty talking, slow sex, biting, spitting, prone-bone position, unprotected sex, All characters are 20+

Katsuki’s hands are huge. Heavy. Warm like stones left out in the sun. His fingers are thick, bulky and chubby where his knuckles are, the pads of his thumbs are calloused and rough, freed from the texture of a print due to regular filing, and still, my god— do they feel good rubbing zig zag lines and uneven shaped circles against your sore back.

His hands settle over every curve of your back like they were made to be there. Broad palms that are quirk charged bracketing your waist, spreading heat through his thumbs over muscle and skin until you’re not sure where your body ends and his begins. The weight of them is grounding, like gravity doubled. Like exhaling for the first time in hours.

You have been sore for way too long. Debating on whether you should book an appointment for a massage or get doctor prescribed physios, but ultimately in your lack of time and indecisiveness, you’ve let the issue come to its boiling point, let your back feel sore and aching to even the touch of your nails when you scratch yourself. 

You tell yourself it surely wasn’t an excuse to make Katsuki get his hands on you like this, but then again if you were asked, you couldn’t say the opposite. The feeling of his hands on your skin is scorching every cell of your existence at all times and now— now you’re enjoying this way too much.

Naturally, your breath starts to stutter. Just a little. Shallow at first—barely-there catches of air that stalls in your chest each time his thumbs roll in deep near your spine, right where it always hurts worst. Katsuki notices. Of course he does. His hands pause for half a beat, then glide lower, smoothing the ache with a gentler pass like he’s coaxing the tension out instead of breaking it.

“Too much?” he murmurs, voice thick with sleep and heat and something else he doesn’t name. Something that lives between the cracks of his touch.

You shake your head into the pillow.

No. Not even close.

If anything, you feel as if you might as well melt.

The room is candlelit, filled with that slow bloom of lavender and something warmer—jasmine? Chamomile? It smells almost toasted from where his palms heat up the oil, seeping into the air like steam curling off summer pavement after rain. Soft music is playing in the background, drumming low with every single lyric the singer sings; Katsuki has gone out of his usual way to make you feel comfortable.

You’re already half-melted into the mattress by now, face buried in a pillow that still smells like his skin, the edge of your tank top pushed up to your ribs. You feel him behind you, quiet, deliberate, the bed dipping beneath his weight as his hands find the bottle of oil again.

When his hands leave your back, you’re back to feeling like hell, like all the alleviated pain just punched its way back into your rear.

To save you from this agony, Katsuki’s hands—those massive, brutish hands that have torn through half the villains in Japan, the hands that have been worked in excruciating and harsh conditions over the years—are moving over your back again like they’re made of sunlight and patience.

He presses again, harder this time. Not cruel, not rough. Just deliberate. One thumb working in a crooked elliptical circle beneath your shoulder blade while the heel of his other palm drags slow, wide strokes across your lower back. There’s no rhythm to it, no pattern. Just instinct. Just him. And maybe that’s why it feels so good. Because it’s not technique, not some learned routine from a textbook. It’s just him and the way he cares about you. Cares enough to soften his rough edges, to make his hardened palms feel incredible and soothing on your back.

Katsuki settles on either side of your legs, sitting on his knees above you as his oily thumbs hook under your bunched up shirt, coaxing you to lift only ever just a little, so he can take the article of clothing off of you.

With only a small tag, the flimsy piece of clothing is over your head, discarded onto the edge of the bed and Katsuki moves over your legs again, this time sitting low, just over the back of your knees. Rough palms that drip of fresh lavender oil feel your tummy as you stay lifted up, running up, up, up, until they slide across your breasts, thumbs softly brushing your nipples.

You moan with a rasp, at the loss of the feeling, or maybe at how hot his palms are when they engulf your shoulders and give a pinching little rub. 

You feel Katsuki press in with a slow, unyielding pressure that makes your breath hitch against the pillow. He knows exactly where to go—where you hold stress, where it bites. Right between your shoulder blades, far up on the back of your neck, low at the base of your spine, the outer edges of your hips. His thumbs circle there, digging in just enough to ache, then easing off like a tide pulling back from shore.

He tags at your pyjama shorts next, just the waistline at first, then the start of your panties, but his thumbs stain the fabric in lavender sweetness, tagging even further when he says “Off”

You lift your hips without a word. It’s not even a decision—it’s instinct. A quiet offering. A permission that’s already been granted a hundred times in your body before it ever reaches your lips.

The shorts slide down slow. The elastic tugs over the swell of your ass, catching just slightly at the curve of your thighs before easing off, guided by thumbs that are far too gentle for how rough they look. His hands are reverent, even now. Even with your bare skin revealed under the low flicker of candlelight, with the smell of lavender thick in the air, wrapping around you both like a silken ribbon.

There’s a pause. Not long. Just enough to make you breathe in, hold it. You feel the weight of his gaze on your back. Feel it like a touch. Like heat.

Then his hands are on you again, and it’s almost worse than before. Better. Unbearably better.

His thumbs drag low, slow, slick with oil as they part the dip of your spine. They don’t press too hard. Just smooth you open—figuratively, literally—with strokes that make your toes curl into the sheets. His fingers knead into the meat of your hips now, heavy and full, pressing into places that ache with tiredness, places that never get touched this way unless it’s under the guise of something much filthier.

“You wait too long,” he mutters. Voice rough, low, almost annoyed—but not really. Not at you. “Could feel the knots from the second I touched you.”

You hum, something low in your throat. Almost a laugh. Almost a whimper. “Didn’t have time.”

“Make time,” he snaps, but it’s soft. Almost affectionate. His hands say more than the words ever could. They dig in again, dragging slow zigzags along the base of your spine, making your back arch and your thighs twitch. He smooths them over your ass, dragging the oil agonisingly slow over you, until his thumbs brush over the lower crevices of your bottom.

“Just ask, I’ll rub your back”

You can’t tell if it’s the oil or your own sweat making your skin slick now. Can’t tell where the ache ends and the heat begins. Can’t tell where you end and his skilled fingers begin.

All you know is that Katsuki’s hands are still on you—huge and hot and unrelenting—and that you never want them to stop.

You’re starting to forget the ache.

Not because it’s gone, but because it’s changed, morphed into something else under his hands. It’s still there, but not sharp. Not angry. Just… full. Blooming warm in your chest and pooling low in your belly like syrup, like honey slowly melting down a spoon.

You breathe again. Really breathe. And it comes out shaky, lips parted against the pillow, lashes fluttering in the candlelight.

“Fuck,” you whisper. Not directed at him. Not even really a word. Just a sound of surrender.

Katsuki shifts behind you, and you feel it—his weight bearing down gently on the back of your thighs, his thighs bracketing yours now, his body closer than it was before. Still clothed. Still in control. But not distant.

Never distant.

You feel his breath brush across the back of your neck a second before his lips do.

A soft press. Nothing more. Just warmth. Just acknowledgement.

“I know you’re tired,” he murmurs, voice low, sticky with quiet tenderness and worn-down. “But you can’t let yourself get like this.”

You nod—barely—but he sees it. He always sees you. Even when you try not to be seen.

“I’m here,” he says. “You got a boyfriend to fix your back anytime”

It’s simple. Not romantic, not flowery. Just your usual Katsuki. 

His palms flatten against your waist again, spreading out like wings, dragging slow and deliberate as they glide up your sides. They pass over the swells of your breasts without urgency this time, just pressure and heat and familiarity, before curling over your shoulders. His thumbs dip under your arms, into the softest parts of you, and rub gentle, grounding circles.

You lean into it. Into him.

“You don’t have to fix everything,” you murmur, voice hushed against the pillow. His hands still. Not gone. Just still.

You call out his name, almost sheepishly, sleep dragging a voice that’s ready to complain, in contrast to your previous statement. You pout even, “Don’t stop babe i'm sore” 

Katsuki exhales through his nose, and it sounds like a laugh, except it’s lower. Thicker. Like he’s trying not to let on how fond he is of you when you get like this tired and whiny and melting beneath his hands like you were made to be touched and felt up by him.

“Yeah?” he mutters, and you hear the smirk even before you feel it. “Thought I didn’t gotta fix everything.”

You nuzzle your cheek deeper into the pillow, refusing to dignify that with an answer.

He hums. His thumbs move again, slow, small circles into the soft spot just below your shoulder blades. You sigh, finally loud and satisfied again—and he shakes his head like he’s trying to be annoyed, even as his hands keep coaxing little, blissed-out sounds from your throat.

“Back’s all locked up like you’re made of concrete. What the hell’ve you been carryin’ around?”

You shrug lazily, the motion barely registering. “Life?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. “Too much of it.”

He shifts again, the bed dipping as his weight adjusts. One arm slides beneath your stomach, anchoring you gently, while the other keeps working slow and steady down your spine. Every stroke is fixated to every dip of your back like he’s trying to draw something out of you. Not just the tension. The tired. The worry.

You make another soft, contented noise, and he presses his lips to the side of your neck again—no heat, no rush, just a quiet, grateful touch.

One moment you’re relaxed, open, muscles soft, the dull ache of being rubbed with such pressure weighing you down to complete relaxation and the next—Katsuki’s lips find the edge of your shoulder blade. Smooching once, twice over spots that are oiled up.

He can’t help himself.

The lavender scent. The way your ass is curved upwards, so perky. The oil makes your skin shine in the low light of the candles. The angelic way the music starts sounding as the notes hit your skin like the softest raindrops on flower leaves; He feels himself lean into the fondly softness of the moment, growing hotter by each second. His cock has already started giving him warning throbs inside his briefs.

It’s almost quite dangerous, what you do to him. The sight of you sprawling limp and sleepy and soft under just the touch of his hands. So in a bold movement he smooths his wonders once again over your ass, thumbs parting your legs from the inside of your thighs, just a little. When he pulls back to his original position, vermillion eyes flicker where your slit is, glistening softly, not throbbing quite yet.

The slow drag of his hands, smoothing lower, is parted only by a moment from the pause just above the dip of your ass, where his thumbs rest—hover—like he’s thinking something over. Like he’s holding himself back, the way he always does when he thinks this might be too much, too soon, too selfish of him.

But to assure him, it isn’t, you push your hips back, just a tiny bit. So eager for him as always, even in this vulnerable state.

“Katsuki,” you breathe through a moan slurred, not like a question, not a plea. Just his name. Like you’re granting him permission by calling it out.

It’s all he needs.

His hands firm at your waist again, grip tightening just slightly, a groan catching low in his chest as his body bows over yours. You feel the warm press of his mouth at the nape of your neck, open and slow and wet. Feel his breath, the way it shakes. The way it matches yours.

“You drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he mutters against your skin. “Lyin’ here like this. Soundin’ like that.”

You’d laugh, a soft breathy chuckle, but it comes out like a whimper when his thumbs knead into the meat of your thighs and spread you gently apart. Lavender clings to everything. Your skin, your breath, the air—but now it’s mixed with eerie desire, like it wouldn’t turn out exactly like this when you asked him to rub your back.

His hands don’t rush, like they usually do when his chest is so tight with desire, arousal. They drag over your hips, your waist, until his fingers slide down the sides of your belly and find the edge of your hips again. This time, when he tugs your love handles, doughing them into the pads of his palms, there’s no hesitation. Just soft skin and warm oil peeling away from your skin, pooling on the sheets behind you.

You’re bare. Completely. The candlelight flickers, catching the sheen of sweat and oil across your back, your thighs. Katsuki pours more oil on his palms. You feel it trickle down your spine, between your legs. You feel him there too, kneeling behind you, hovering over you like heat itself.

And when his hands return, when his fingers slide between your thighs and find you already wet, already open—his breath punches out in one low, reverent curse, like he doesn’t remember seeing the way you were glistening when he looked over a second ago.

“Fuck,” he mutters, hands slowly opening your ass cheeks “Look at you.”

You press your face harder into the pillow, hips tilting, thighs spreading wider in a silent invitation you’ve never needed to say aloud with him.

He slides one thick finger through your slick and groans, low and guttural like it hurts. Like he’s the one unraveling.

“You feel so fuckin’ good,” he says, voice rough, dazed, groaning out his words “fuckin’ dripping…”

The first push of his fingers is slow, deliberate—just one at first, thick and sure. Dragging the edge of the knuckle softly against your clit. Your back arches. Your mouth falls open. His other hand braces at your hip, grounding you, owning you.

Then another finger joins the first.

And god, his fingers are just as big as his hands, and you swear they’re made for this. Not gentle, but not rough either. Just pressure. Heat. Depth. The kind of stretch that makes your legs tremble, your body pulse with something deeper than need.

You sob into the pillow, and he shushes you softly—lips at your shoulder, tongue dragging the edge of your skin, teeth sinking in.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he breathes in your ear. “Let me make you feel good.”

You shiver when the pads of his thumbs push on the outter lips of your pussy, spreading you wider for him with that same careful control he uses in a fight—like he knows exactly how much force to use, how far to take it before it ruins you. And maybe you want to be ruined a little.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” Katsuki murmurs, voice nearly gone, wrecked from how hard he’s breathing. His thumbs hold you open while his fingers curl slow, deep—dragging against that spot, under the hood of your clit that makes your thighs jolt, makes your chest squeeze tight. He watches you clench around him, watches the oil and slick mix and drip down to the crease of your thighs. Watches everything with that starved kind of look on his face, biting his lips and scrunching his nose, eyes blown wide like he’s being allowed to witness something sacred.

And he can’t help himself, once again, not to drag his left thumb over your entrance, circling softly, to gather some slick before his finger taps at your other puckered hole, rubbing once, twice, before slowly sinking in.

At the same time, almost, his right pointer finger enters your pussy, the thumb never leaving your clit, always circling it lazily, elliptical.

You both hiss, you at the feeling of both of your holes being entered, him at the feeling of how tightly you clamp around just his fingers.

His cock is furious inside his pants now. Angry at the top and leaking over the spot the tip has settled at.

“Fuuuuck,” he whispers again, this time quieter. Like it’s just for himself. Like he can’t believe how good you feel, how warm and wet and tight you are, clenching down on both fingers like your body’s trying to drag him in deeper.

And he feels like he might as well go insane.

Because it’s not just the way your body reacts to him, not just the way you sob and tremble and push back against his hand like you can’t get enough, though all of that drives him crazy. It’s that you let him see it. Let him touch you here, like this, in this kind of quiet, candlelit intimacy where everything is soft and raw and slow.

Your thighs tremble. Your breath catches.

It’s too much and at the same time, not enough.

His left hand, still slick and strong, adjusts where it holds you open. That finger still lazily and slowly pumping —almost still of movement— in the hole of your ass, teasing in slow, subtle pushes that make your whole spine tense, makes your toes curl into the sheets. And all the while, his right hand works in tandem; pointer finger deep inside your pussy, thumb lazy and steady on your clit like he’s marking time. Like he knows just how fast to take you, just how slow to pull you apart.

You whimper, shamefully loud. 

It’s the kind of sound you’d usually try to bite back, bury into your wrist or his bicep, but Katsuki doesn’t let you this time. He growls at it, low, like a threat, pushes in just a bit deeper, rubbing the pad of his thumb in slow, wet circles against your clit until your hips twitch again.

“There you go,” he mutters. “That’s it. Let me hear it, baby.”

You do. Because you can’t not.

As you carefully wiggle your hips just a little more upwards, you yelp, feeling just a little pain from the thick finger in your ass and it takes all of Katsuki’s humility to gather a ball of spit in his mouth and let it go off, past his raspberry blown lips and onto the slit of your ass. 

His finger exits so, so, so slowly, still you groan at the slight discomfort due to it, making his chest swell, and he catches some of his spit with his finger and enters you again.

Every nerve in your body is lit, every edge of you aching and raw. Katsuki doesn’t let up and with his chest bearing all this excitement and humility that makes his ears red and tingly from seeing you so spread open like this, he doesn’t stop. Just holds you open like you’re something precious and obscene all at once, his fingers working slow and deep until you’re shaking under him, toes curling, face buried in the pillow to keep from sobbing his name.

Suddenly, the bed creaks under his knees as he leans down, dwelling chest brushing your back, breath hot on your neck. His fingers never stop working—sliding deeper, curling, then scissoring your pussy open just slightly as if to test how ready you are for what comes next. He simply rasps at how wet you are, but it’s swallowed under the silky sounds of your squelching.

You feel open, loose, hot to the touch and unable to move, like your lower half has been lost in a cloud of overbearing pleasure.

Then, like you're kicked to the gut and jolted out of your pleasure cloud nine— you feel it. The weight of it.

Katsuki’s cock, hard and heavy, presses against the swell of your ass, sizzling hot even through the thin cotton of his boxers, begging to be set free.

You feel yourself leak, a beady drop of sticky sleek that trails down the lips of your pussy and onto his thumb. He presses down on your clit like it’s a button, squeezing just enough before flicking it, left then right, up then down and all over again until you’re screaming into the pillow.

Your pussy feels like it’s on fire and for once, the finger in your ass is starting to feel way more pleasing than it’s ever felt in the few times you two have tried this.

You feel the steady pulse of his throbbing mushroom tip beneath your skin, a weight that drags and shifts with every careful motion of his hips, like he’s tracing the shape of you without needing to see. Every inch memorized in the heat of this moment.

Slowly and so deliberately, his hands exit out of you with a pop and a treacherous whine from the depths of your chest that drips on your lips and slip to the waistband of his briefs, fingers rough only to himself as they peel the fabric down his thighs, releasing the tight hold. The cool air hits the bare skin of his cock, already glistening with heat and promise, and your breath catches at the sound of his dick hitting his abdomen.

Katsuki shifts closer, lips trailing a feather-light kiss along your shoulder, warm and urgent, grounding and electric all at once. His fingers slip free from where they held you open just moments ago, replaced by the thick, slick head of him pressing between your folds, nestling there like he’s already part of you.

His cockhead on your clit feels like heaven. Everything nice. Big and bulky and heavier than his thumb, it glides over a few, agonisingly slow times, before his voice breaks into speech. 

He finds your clit again, traps it between flesh and fingertip, giving a small, delicious pinch that makes you shiver and arch against him.

“Y’gonna let me in, baby?” he whispers, lips dragging over your shoulder as his fingers slip free, replaced by the thick head of him nestling between your folds again.

You’re going crazy. Aching at the loss of his tip on your entrance. Drool catches at the side of your mouth and spills over the pillow, walls clamping down around thin air. You need him inside you right now or else you’ll combust. You’ve been spread out and toyed with for oh so long.

“Y-yes, please baby, put it in”

His breath fans across your skin, hot and ragged, as he shifts the last bit of distance between you. The head of him presses deeper, teasing the wet, swollen gate of your slit, just at the edge of full surrender. Your body tightens, trembling with the delicious agony of waiting.

Then, painfully slow, he pushes inside you, past the tight rim of your entrance—inch by inch, and so deliberate, a tender invasion that makes your chest rise and fall in ragged gasps. The heat of him floods you, filling every ache and hollow with only his tip that's pouring clear precum like a river. A vein on his cock throbs, catches close to your g-spot and you moan at the feeling, your clit throbbing like its on fire, by the action.

Katsuki’s hot hands slide down your hips, gripping firm enough to anchor you but gentle enough to let you melt beneath him. His lips find the curve of your neck, pressing soft, chaste kisses that trail lower—each one a quiet confession, a promise stitched into flesh. He bucks into you again, broken breath and a rhythm to match it, hips far from even stuttering against you.

All Katsuki can think right now as he looks down at his hands on your plush skin is that he loves you. All blown out and barely spread open as he pushes your ass close, chanting his name as he feels you trap his veiny cock inside your walls. He couldn’t keep his hands off you for a second and it’s like a blessing that you asked him to massage you. A curse too, because he knew he wouldn’t hold back from turning it into sex even if he tried.

With every -barely- measured thrust, you feel his chest swell against your back, pounding with something more than desire—a love so raw and fierce it almost hurts. His cock drags deep inside you, the slow rhythm setting fire to every nerve, every whisper of skin-on-skin.

He buries his face into your shoulder, breath hitching, biting onto your earlobe and sucking before he speaks, voice thick and vulnerable at once. “Love you babe.”

Your body trembles, caught between the sweet sting of pleasure and the weight of his words. You press back into him, aching to close the distance, to be lost in the overwhelming pull of this moment—where every touch, every breath, every heartbeat says you.

“Love you too” you whisper, finally.

You gasp when he grinds deeper, and he groans like he’s hurting, like it physically aches how much he wants to make this last.

And then he starts kissing you. Everywhere.

“I gotchu babe, let go” he whimpers “You’re killin’ me,” he breathes. “Feels so good—I just wanna stay here, baby, please—lemme just…”

His hips stutter and you feel him shake into your sore neck, just a little—and his lips press harder, tighter, to your shoulder as he groans your name into your skin like a vow. Like he’s praying and you're his only god.

Your hand reaches back blindly, desperate to touch him, to grab at something real, with your face still squished into the pillow and he catches the movement, brings one of his hands to match yours and threads your fingers together without a second of hesitation. His hand tangles with yours above the pillow. Fingers sticky with lavender oil and need, pressing into yours like he needs the anchor. The other stays at your hip, guiding you back into him with the same rhythm he holds in battle—steady, devastating.

You can feel the way his heart beats against your back when he leans in close. Can hear the way his breath hitches when you let out a soft moan into the pillow, hips pushing back into his, seeking more.

His grip is tight, grounding. A promise made in the trembling space between sweating and hot skin.

You feel every inch of him, not just inside you, in the squelching in and out and the sound of skin slapping, but around you, covering you, his chest flush and hot on your back, the way his arm tighten around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold you close enough.

With every thrust, he leans in, chest brushing your back, lips dragging kisses along the curve of your shoulder, your neck, the back of your ear. His breath is warm and ragged, but his mouth is gentle. If saying ‘I love you’ wasn’t enough, his cock spells it out inside you, like he can’t stop saying the phrase without saying it out loud.

“You’re killin’ me,” he mutters, kissing the nape of your neck, voice breaking against your skin. “Don’t even know what you do to me.”

Katsuki’s hips roll again, and you gasp more from the emotion than the sensation. You’re so full, he’s so deep in it almost hurts. But he’s so tender with it. You feel him kiss your shoulder again, then the spot just underneath your ear. You shiver under the weight of it, under the heat of his breath.

“Can’t get close enough to you,” he mutters, almost like he’s mad at himself for trying. “You’re all I fuckin’ think about.”

You reach for him with your other hand as well, fingers searching behind you until your hand finds his forearm. Taut, huge as always and trembling from the control he’s holding. You clutch him there, and he groans at the contact, your nails dig in and he’s thrusting just a little deeper, a little slower.

Each time his hips meet yours, your breath stutters, your throat tight with the aching swell of something bigger than arousal. It’s overwhelming—the way he fills you, how soft he’s being, how quiet and gentle he is when usually he’s all noise and heat and thunder. But now? There’s no room for temper now. And if he’s always just slightly embarrassed and aroused by that feeling in the bedroom, this time, it’s becoming something worse. His belly tightens, stomach tight and numb and falling like he’s been punched.

That bubbling feeling is travelling straight to his cock, making him impossibly hard, letting the start of an orgasm shimmer, his balls tightening so much he can feel it.

You can feel it where his hard abs brush your back, where his nose presses into your shoulder blade, where his hips move with more emotion than rhythm. His voice is cracking, his fingers are squeezing yours for dear life.

But the way he is fucking into you, is not rough, nor fast. It’s worship. Slow and delicious.

Every inch of his body sings with it, matching the soft song in the background. Every part of him is working to memorize a body he already knows like the back of his hand—not just how you feel around him, but the sound of your voice when you gasp, the way your hand tightens in his when the pleasure crests too high, the way your breath stutters when he kisses the back of your neck like he’s saying sorry for every time he ever doubted he’d deserve this.

He doesn’t even know what’s gotten into him right now.

It’s probably that he only feels safe when you touch him, when he touches you. It’s probably that the feeling of your skin on his is unlike any touch that he despises in this world. The hand you're digging your nails in is scarred, littered with skin tissue that’s newer, tissue that isn't going to match his old skin no matter how many years pass. And even though he hates looking at it, his cock throbs inside you at the sight of your bodies connecting there.

And it’s in every groan that leaves his lips, every kiss he drags across your spine, every tremble in his arms as he pulls you impossibly closer, like he needs your bodies fuse when he fucks you fron the back like a sin. Slowly, never picking up pace, likes he’s fucking you through it instead of towards it.

Your stomach feels likes it’s dropping, adorned in adoration, his love laced rhythm, that slow-motion hammering way he’s fucking you with is messing with your mind and body in delicious ways.

You’re almost at your breaking point.

Your breath catches again, again as the tension rises unbearably, a string pulled tighter and tighter through every snug and wet thrust, every kiss he plants tenderly, along your back 

Katsuki’s forehead falls to your shoulder. He’s barely trembling by an inch but you feel it. Not from strain, not from fatigue, but from the way this is undoing him. And fucking hell if this isnt the hottest sex youve had in a while.

There’s no fight for dominance, no cockiness, just tenderness. Him not being close to you enough, you not being close to him enough either.

He desperately wants you two to merge into one.

You can hear it in his voice when he speaks next. Not a growl, not a command. Just a whisper. Frayed, cracked, raw.

“Can’t—can’t believe I get to touch you like this.”

The words split you open somewhere deeper than sore muscle. Because it’s not just the way he’s moving inside you, it’s the way his heart feels like it’s pulsing against your spine, the way he’s holding you like you’re both breakable.

You're scared for a second, that he's going to get irregular heart palpitations again, but the thought is pushed away when his lips brush your ear. “Your pussy 's so tight. Fuck...I’m not gonna last long if you keep squeezing me like that.”

But he doesn’t make a move to pull away despite his words. Doesn’t even speed up. If anything, he presses in closer. Slower. Like he’s trying to memorize this exact second—the shape of your back under his chest, the soft pull of your fingers on his scarred forearm, the hitch in your breath that comes every time his hips roll forward.

You can feel the tremble in his thighs now. The catch in his rhythm. You’re so close, just on the edge, and he knows it. You know he is too. But he’s holding it back like he’s trying to stretch this moment out forever, like climaxing would mean letting go and he doesn’t want to let go.

But oh—you can feel it coming, like thunder on the horizon.

It coils in your belly, winds tighter with every breathless thrust. Slow, grounding, devastating in its tenderness. Katsuki’s mouth is at your shoulder again, dragging crazed open-mouthed kisses along your skin, the base of your hair, drunk on the scent of lavender and your skin like it’s an aphrodisiac.

You think you hear him whisper your name. Just your name. Not even his usual ‘babe’ like it’s the only word he remembers how to say, but it’s so cracked and under his breath you can’t pinpoint it over the sound of your own heart beating in your ears.

His cock pulses deep inside you, catching the perfect angle of your g-spot and it’s so hard now it aches, dragging against every place that makes you cry out, stretch, tremble. He’s still slow. Still careful. Always clinging to you like the act of letting go might mean waking up from this.

His arms wrap tighter around you. His scarred hand finds your chest from underneath you , just above your heart, and stays there, pressing down like he needs to feel every beat. His other is tangled over yours, fingers still locked tight, sweaty and trembling and unrelenting.

“Katsuki—” you choke, and he moans like your voice alone just finished him. A total fatality.

“I know, baby,” he breathes. “I know—‘m right here, come f—ah— for me. Let me fucking feel you. Say it babe, say you wanna come and I’ll —fuck, I’ll get you there”

“Wanna come on your cock Katsuki, feels s’good”

“Let go babe, ‘m here, I got ya” he whispers against your ear.

“Please… please, mhmm”

You shudder under him, your legs trembling as you reach that edge and go right over, your whole body clenching, fluttering around him, pulling him deeper as everything breaks open inside you. Your cry is caught in the pillow, but he feels it. Feels you squeeze, feels your hips arch, your back press flush against him, feels your ass fill out the space on his v-line.

And then he loses it. Sweat drips from his forehead and it takes all of his restraint to not let anything in his body ignite his quirk right now. You feel so good, so wet, so hot around him. 

He sinks as deep as he can go and stays there, buried, kissing your cervix with his leaky tip, forehead pressed between your shoulder blades, one long broken sound leaving his chest as his body jolts once, twice, into yours.

You feel him come inside you. Hot. Filling out every tight spot his cock doesn’t kiss in you. And still, he doesn’t stop holding you.

His breath is a mess against your skin. Lips still find you in the aftermath—your shoulder, the side of your neck, the shell of your ear. Your cheek. His arms won’t stop shaking. Neither will yours.

But he doesn’t move. He goes still. Stiff like his whole body is cramping.

Minutes pass like this. Breathing each other in. Skin to skin. Not a single space left between you as he pushes you with his hand from underneath you, into his chest.

You shift your head, enough to reach for him with your mouth, just barely brushing your lips to his knuckles where your fingers are still laced together.

“Babe—Kats,” you breathe, lunges closing in, a hint of guilt closing in as you know he has no other way to make you feel he means it when he says he loves you “I love you so much but I’ll pass out”

“Yeah, yeah, just let me—” he shifts a little, just to pull out, dragging his hand just enough to flip you over as he lays on the bed “all good now. Love you”

Katsuki catches your cheeks and presses a tiny kiss to the apples of both your squished cheeks. He flattens you against his chest with that same arm—the one that pulled you through it all. His hand is spread wide over your back like he’s trying to cover every inch of you.

Your cheek rests against his collarbone, lips parted, lashes damp. You feel the flutter of his pulse against your mouth, a part of you, the one that’s worried about his heart, tries to count how many times his heart beats in sixty seconds.

“I can’t feel my thighs,” you murmur, the words slurred, not really a complaint, when you decide his heart is pumping just fine.

“Shut up,” he says, but it’s all rasp, no bite. His lips press to your sticky forehead like punctuation.

You hum a soft laugh against his chest, then pout as you hold and squeeze onto his peck, kissing the outer rim of his scar over and over again. “No, really. I think I forgot how to walk, you’re gonna have to massage me all oooover again”

~All rights reserved: @/strawberry-nugget, 2025. Please do not copy, over write or steal my work.

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[comatosebunny09]

carpe noctem [ falling action ] | sylus

— summary: he kissed you. you pretend it didn’t mean anything. sylus tries to show you it meant everything. — cw: reader is not mc, language, sexual tension, self-loathing, mutual pining, jealousy, blood & violence, self-deprecating thoughts, profanity, misunderstandings, romance, self-indulgent, wild caleb sighting, mdni — notes: thank you @subliminalwish for inspiring this part! and thank you all for reading! [ pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | pt. 7 ] — now playing: fuel to fire - agnes obel btbt - b.i

Their timing couldn’t be more impeccable—the twins. Your saving grace.

Sylus is a tempest. A storm ravaging the rickety foundation of your boat. He kisses greedy. Commanding, sipping from you like a fountain amid a desert. Swallowing the gruff little keens you make. You burn hot wherever he touches. His hands are like branding irons on your skin, amplified by the thin taffeta of your dress as they smooth up and down the curvature of your waist.

You’re dizzy when he snatches away, a growl in his throat. His lips are kiss-swollen. Burn a pretty red, stained by your lipstick. His eyes smolder like embers through the living room’s haze. Catch in the moonlight, gleaming a potent shade of scarlet. He reminds you of something beastly. Predatory. 

You did this to him?

In contrast, you’re sludge in his hands, swimming, blinking, drunk, and trying to remember how to breathe. For a moment, he appears hesitant. Gaze flits between your eyes and mouth as he holds you by your hips. Rubs reassuring circles into your hip bones with his thumbs. He’s so pretty like this. Inebriated by passion, silken white hair mussed from your greedy fingers. Expensive, pleated shirt all rumpled, bow tie loosened, composure thrown to hell.

But his phone keeps ringing. An obnoxious chime that makes your lips quirk despite the vertigo sweeping over you. It cuts through the wispy film of the night. Cleaves through the nebulous cloud of desire hanging between you, and with a bitten-off sound, he finally tugs his cell free of his pocket. 

He watches you as he brings it to his ear. Cups your cheek, brushing over your bottom lip with the worn pad of his thumb. Tugs it down, entranced by its elasticity. Its fullness. Your fingers clasp around his wrist. You nuzzle into the safety of his palm. Turn your mouth inward, blistering it with a kiss. Affection intermingled with amusement colors your eyes. He’s like a spoiled child, snatched off the playground before he was ready to leave.

“What,” he clips into the mic. 

A hesitant voice peers through the low static. Luke. “Mission accomplished, bossman.” You imagine Kieran peeking over his brother’s shoulder in the background, wariness hidden behind that gaudy bird mask. “All cleaned up over here.”

Sylus sighs something weighted. Shaky. Relieved. His shoulders drop with it, then tense again. The agitation doesn’t leave his face. Something’s on his mind. Something more pressing than a few ornery goons trying to hunt you down. You nip at his fingertips to assuage the divot forming between his brows. The taut pull of his lips. 

He hangs up without another word, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Draws you close, preparing to kiss you breathless once more. 

But it seems fate is a cruel, mischievous mistress, intervening when she deems it fit.

Because, this time, your phone rings. 

You stiffen. Sylus glowers at your—his—coat pocket. Studies you. He’s conflicted. Looks as if the world is descending into hell around him. Like he wants to take your phone and shatter it on the wall. You offer him a placating smile. Smooth a hand over his cheek before tugging your cell out. It’s only fair you leave him as on edge as he left you. 

He doesn’t let it deter him, pulling you impossibly closer. Peppers your neck with kisses, drawing a soft huff of laughter from your chest. Your head falls back, and he cradles it with his fingers, baring your throat to him. Groans something appreciative, writing the most beautiful compliments of all against your skin with his lips. 

You’re not thinking when you answer, too swept up in the moment. Dizzy from the needy drag of his lips over your carotid. Don’t think until a familiar lilt touches your ear, and a cold thrill shoots down your spine.

Little. Ms. Hunter. 

Fuck. 

Reality trickles in like the slow creep of a rainstorm, mooring you to the spot. You shove against Sylus’ chest. He ingests you with pinched brows, heavy lids, an open mouth. ‘What’s wrong?’ his expression reads. He’s desperate. Needy. Like you’re his lifeline, an IV drip.

You push against him again, chest so very hard and so wonderfully defined against the heel of your palm. You need space. You can’t breathe, but for an entirely different reason now. 

His hands reluctantly drop from your waist, falling listlessly at his sides. He turns away, rubbing the scruff of his neck with a sigh.

“What’s up?” you bite. Try to mask the waver of your voice, your quivering tendons. 

“Hey, how ya doin’?” She’s infuriatingly chipper. Happy for someone halfway across the world, as if she knows you’re up to no good. 

You don’t bother with pleasantries. You’re caught between wanting to laugh and cry. Damn the universe for spoiling your fun. “What do you need?”

The hunter’s hesitant for a beat. You envision her shifting her weight between her feet. Fiddling with her nails, her gaze cast to the floor. It’s not often you’re terse with her, at least not these days. You worked through those kinks of your relationship months back. But forgive you for being a little impatient. A little snippy when you finally satiated the ache between your teeth. 

“Sooo, I’m back earlier than expected. My ride cancelled on me. Would you mind picking me up from the airport? I’ll pay you back! Promise!” 

“You can’t catch a cab?” You push back your hair. Peer over your shoulder, hand cupped around the mic as if you’re whispering a secret. Sylus is behind you a little ways off, hand on hip; silhouette suffused in amber as he examines some picture frames on the sofa table, pretending not to eavesdrop.  

“Yeah, but it’s late! I don’t wanna get kidnapped, ya know?”

You suppress a frustrated sound, disbelieving. Not just of her, but the timing of everything. The reminder of what you’ve done and what you still want to do. One day, you’ll learn not to answer your phone. And one day, you’ll learn to tell your conscience to fuck right the hell off.

“Fine. Yeah, sure. Just…gimme a minute.”

“You’re the best! I don’t care what the twins say about you!” 

The call ends, and you sigh, leaning into your palm, propped against the frost-bitten windowpane. It grounds you in a way, its crispness a welcome contrast to your fevered skin. 

You jolt when Sylus emerges behind you in the form of artful hands melding to your waist. In the form of warm breath kissing the sensitive space behind your ear. His lips graze the shell of it. You snatch away as if scorched by fire, turning, spine acquainting itself with the window. Space. You need space. 

He gives you no time to breathe, spilling over you like liquid fire. Cages you in with his arms. Angles closer, swaddling you in the dangerous warmth of his body. Bathes you in the bewitching scent he carries, in the lazy, lust-laden stir of his eyes. You shirk away from his touch when his fingertips graze your cheek. He bristles.

Your heart pinches at the wounded look on his face. At how his fingers twitch before curling into a loose fist and falling back to his side. You duck away from him, a nervous smile dragging itself across your face. 

“She’s back,” you state plainly. It tastes bitter, acknowledging it aloud. Your belly swoops. You think you might be sick. “Asked if I could pick her up.”

His expression slackens. Gaze descends to the floor. “This late?”

You nod solemnly. 

Shouldn’t he be happy his Aphrodite has returned?

It’s unnervingly quiet between you now, making way for the whisper of the wind threading through the leaves outside where the sticky click of your lips and labored breaths once lived. 

Your throat clicks when you swallow. You want nothing more than to pull him against you again, to be wrapped in the possessive circle of his arms. To pick up where you left off before morality leaked in. But that call served as your reality check, and you’re both grateful and resentful it came when it did.

Sylus beholds you with beseeching eyes. Looks as if he might protest, lips quivering around an excuse to draw you back in. But he drops it. Instead, he opts for, “I’ll bring the car around,” sounding so uncharacteristically somber that you wince. 

He brushes past you through the front door, swallowed by the dust-speckled night. Leaves you to nurse the violent thrum of your heart and battle the maelstrom in your head. 

She’s back. Things will return to normal. This moment never happened. This night never happened. 

Still, your lips burn with the remnants of the kiss. You unconsciously touch the trembling, distended things, deciding to tuck the memory into the furthest hulls of your mind. 

He’s not yours, remember? Never will be. Never could be.

—

The ride to the airport was uncomfortably tense. 

Sylus tried vainly to reignite the flames sparked by the night—little displays of affection, possession. Spindly fingers curling around your thigh, a peek at you through the corner of his vision, knuckles deftly brushing your cheek to bring you back to the present. 

You inched away from his touch despite every synapse in your brain screaming for you to let it happen. He gave up after the third try. Gripped the gear stick, white-knuckled and radiating a silent dejectedness. 

You forced out a shaky breath when the overwhelmingly bright, fluorescent airport signs panned into view. 

“Heya!” chirped Ms. Hunter, pulling you into a tight hug once you dismounted the car. “You look all fancy. What have you been up to?”

You were stiff in her embrace, a tight smile pulling at your lips. She smelled of stale perfume and wet earth. Long hair tickled your neck. She radiated a warmth you envied as you rigidly returned the hug.

“Oh, you know. Nefarious things and all that.”

Ms. Hunter drew back, hands roosted on your shoulders. Her smile faltered when she got a good look at you. When the driver’s door slammed shut, and Sylus rounded the car to stand behind you, hands stuffed in his pockets. Her honey-dipped eyes flit over your face. She sensed something was up. Of course, she did. Anyone within a 50-mile radius could see the tension dangling off your shoulders. She looked like she wanted to interrogate you, but—

“Welcome back,” said Sylus, his tone easy. You were thankful for the save. Didn’t have to look back to know he was wearing that familiar cant to his lips. A look he, until tonight, only wore for her. “I take it your mission went well, given how early you returned.” 

You would've tasted the faint notes of indignation there had you not been so swept up in your head. 

“You have no idea,” she laughed, exhaustion lancing through her words. You pat her head, fondly ruffling her hair. 

He helped her put her suitcase in the trunk as she animatedly regaled the details of her mission. He smirked and nodded, listening intently. You tuned everything out in favor of listening to your pulse drum beneath your skin. 

Sylus held the passenger door open, watching you expectantly. Signaled for you to get in with his eyes as Ms. Hunter stood awkwardly behind you. The tension was tangible. Obvious. It made you sick.

He frowned when you forwent the passenger seat, sliding into the back. The front seat was always her place. You were merely squatting there, keeping the leather warm in her absence. You caught sight of the tense set of his jaw when he shut the door behind her. Your heart sank to your feet. 

As Sylus eased the car onto the highway, they filled the stiff, blue-light-tinged air with small talk. Their conversation was seamless as if no time had lapsed between them. You propped an elbow on the door, watching the scenery fly by in a blur beyond your window. 

And you shut your eyes against those scarlet irises occasionally observing you in the rearview mirror, a silent question brewing beneath bowed lashes.

‘Have I done something wrong?’

No. Never. It’s you who’s royally fucked up.

—

“Listen, sweetheart. You both seem like nice girls. But I ain’t budgin’.”

You roll your eyes for the umpteenth time. Scoff, a rigid set between your teeth. You’ve been like this for what feels like hours, propped against a wall, arms crossed, mind tumultuous. 

A few days after the hunter returned, Sylus sent his two gems to reclaim some of his property. Thelma and Louis at it again. 

You should be thrilled. You’ve been itching for a distraction since that night. When you let your emotions overwhelm you, and you gave into your selfish little whims. You can’t focus on much else, the pressure of Sylus’ lips still ingrained in your mind. The texture of his shirt sleeves between your fingers, the sound of his voice as he rasped his satisfaction into your skin. It replays like torn film reels in your mind, refusing to release you from its flimsy clutches. 

Since that night, he’s been uncharacteristically attentive. Filling the space with errant touches and lingering gazes. Rare quirks of his lips, an affectionate, secretive undernote to his timbre whenever he speaks to you. And his eyes. They bear more emotion than what you’re accustomed to seeing. 

It’s all been so very confusing, this new attitude of his. You don’t like it when things aren’t clear-cut and dry. Hate to beat around the bush.

You figured his attention would shift with the center of his universe back in rotation. 

To your chagrin and surprise, you’re wrong. You assume he’s only being so disarming because he needs you. Not just as his pretty little violent marionette. His honeypot. When Ms. Hunter inevitably leaves again—the life of a hunter must be so taxing—he’ll need someone to fall back on. A failsafe to keep his loneliness at bay. You just so happen to fit the bill.

The notion makes you scowl. The butcher’s voice isn’t helping curb your vexation, his laughter obnoxious and filled with phlegm. His fat ass isn’t taking either of you seriously. Of course, if you were him, you wouldn’t, either. 

Ms. Hunter’s been at this for a while, playing good cop to your bad. Trying to nice her way into getting him to sign the deed to his property back to Sylus. Really, it belongs to the latter man. He was just allowing the butcher to squat here while he carried out his work for Onychinus, slaughtering its opposition and packaging up their remains like fresh meat, shipping them off to anyone who dared utter the organization’s name in vain.

His use has run its course. He’s grown sloppy. Complacent. Disloyal. Been letting other faction leads buy him off, selling his knack of butchering to the highest bidder. He should be so lucky you’re not here to slit his throat.

Inwardly, you wonder if someday, you’ll suffer the same fate. If Ms. Hunter will be sent to snuff you out—your successor wiping you off the map like a blip on the radar. 

Until then, you’ll make yourself as indispensable as possible. Prove your worth. 

You push off the wall with a huff, face set with determination as adrenaline spumes through you. You close the distance between you and the hunter in four brisk strides. Snatch her pistol from the holster at her waist, barring her sentence in her throat. It’s weighted. Loaded. Good. 

You rack a round. Release the safety. The butcher barely has time to register anything before you aim. Inhale. Exhale. Pull the trigger at the lowest lull of your breath. And it’s so gratifying, the sound of a bullet whizzing past his ear and embedding itself in the plaster behind him. 

He’s petrified with fright behind his desk, mouth hinged open. Ms. Hunter blurs into focus beyond the front sight, turning incredulous eyes on you before narrowing them. The barrel’s still smoking, a satisfying, wispy cloud furling skyward. The leather grip squeaks in your hand, you’re holding it so tight. 

“Was that really necessary?” she berates. She’s doing that whisper-yelling thing. You’re in for an earful later. 

You shrug half-heartedly, reholstering her weapon. Push past, tugging the sleeves of your blazer up. “I’ve had enough of this,” you grate, snatching your leather gloves from your pocket and slipping them on with practiced precision. 

Neither of them knows what’s coming until you step behind the butcher. Until you’ve taken a fistful of sweaty, grease-slicked hair and acquainted his face with the bubbling finish of his desk with a loud thwack!

Ms. Hunter watches the scene unfold with horror twisting up her features. She’s rooted to the spot. Something plops on the desk. Evolves into a steady, sticky drip. Blood. Corrupted speckles of red staining the deed you’re meant to get signed. 

You lock eyes with your partner, bending at the waist over the butcher’s shoulder, grip unyielding on his hair. A show of power. Dominance, meant to convey, ‘This is how it’s done.’

A smirk twitches onto your lips. Your mouth brushes the outer shell of his ear, voice coming out deceptively doting. “Sign the fucking paper, or I’ll string you up like one of your little pigs and turn you into dog shit.”

His voice is wet. Strained, unflattering streaks of crimson leaking from his nose to puddle on the desk. “But—”

The hunter winces when you slam his face down again. He’s disoriented now. Swaying. If not for your iron grip on his hair, he’d fall into the arms of unconsciousness. 

“Okay, okay!” he relents, garbled and wet. 

You release his hair, shoving at his head none-too-gently, a facsimile of a smile rounding your lips. Perch a hand on his shoulder, squeezing with enough coercion to remind him of your potency. “Pleasure doing business with you, old man.”

The air thickens with fear. It’s quiet, save for the scratch of the butcher’s pen, as he shakily scrawls his signature on the deed, relinquishing his shop back to Sylus. You scrutinize the blood-flecked paper, satisfied. 

“I’ll give you until midnight to get the fuck out of here,” you casually say, snatching off your gloves to smooth out the lapels of your blazer. “Otherwise, I can’t guarantee your safety after.”

You leave the butcher to nurse a broken nose and a nasty headache, pushing past Ms. Hunter with a cocksure grin. 

“What the hell was that?!” she squeaks, rushing to keep pace with you as you step into the warm atmosphere outside, walking towards the sleek outline of your SUV.

“Business.”

“Yeah, but…did you have to threaten him like that? I mean, you could’ve killed the guy!”

With a scowl, you snatch the passenger door open for her to get in. “If you have a problem with how I do things, maybe you’re not cut out for this life, sweetheart.”

She scoffs disbelievingly. Haughty as she plops down on the passenger seat, crossing her arms. You’re being more venomous than usual. More pushy. You’re too far gone. You’ll apologize for making her your punching bag later. 

“What’s up with you?” she pressures once you’ve settled on the driver's side, discarding your gloves in the center console. Leans closer, squinting. You ease back. “You’ve been more bitchy than usual. You and Sylus have been acting weird.” 

She’s closer now, bursting your metaphorical bubble. Dangerously perceptive. You avoid eye contact as if doing so will reveal all the contents of your mind. Not that you have to. She’s alarmingly observant for someone who acts so naive. 

“Did something happen between you?”

You side-eye her as you start the engine, unknowingly confirming her suspicions. She quirks a brow, catching onto your game. Falls back against the leather of her seat to sulk over folded arms. “I knew it. Unbelievable. Didn’t I tell you to play nice while I was gone?!” 

“I’m always nice,” you counter under your breath, glaring at the console screen as you back up the SUV. 

The steering wheel scrubs between your hands after you shift to Drive, and as you slide the vehicle into the steady stream of traffic, you catch sight of the blood mottling the cuff of your sleeve, begging to differ. 

Maybe you’re being more ornery than you think.     

— 

The base is a network of paneled walls and glittering floors. Had you not been well-versed with its layout, you would surely get lost. But you’ve been here too many times. Once slept between these walls, laughed with the twins, and shared a glass of wine or two with your boss. 

Sometimes, he’d let you lie in his bed when your head was too fuzzy, and you couldn’t stop smiling after the wine left you tenuous and dazed. Nothing ever happened, much to your dismay. He was a gentleman through and through. And you never questioned him on why it was always his bed.

Things changed once Ms. Hunter entered the scene. 

This place used to be your asylum. Your respite from a world so vapid. For a moment, you could pretend the blood caked beneath your nails didn’t exist. And you could pretend you weren’t a weapon to be used at your employer’s disposal. But these days, you’ve avoided his mansion like a sickness, instead retreating to your own place in the city. You’re impeding. These walls no longer welcome you. 

You feel like a specter with unresolved conflict as you round the hall where Sylus’ study sits at its center. Your heart hurls itself against your rib cage. You’ve been distant since that night, shying away from his attempts to disarm you. All half-hearted ventures to keep you dangling on a frayed string until he next needs you to fill the void the hunter inevitably leaves. 

You tamp down your anxiety when the cool steel of the door handle bites into your palm. The voice inside is muffled. Deep. Resonant. Sylus is talking business. Orchestrating things that don’t concern you until he makes them your problem. You’ll be quick. Don’t want to stick around longer than necessary.  

Pushing open the heavy mahogany wood, you’re greeted by a shock of white nestled behind his desk. He’s on the phone. Looks up upon your entry, scarlet eyes narrowing, then softening with recognition. Your throat thickens.

You try to ignore how his look makes your stomach somersault. How every crevice of his office smells like him—bourbon, raw energy, and all things safe. You’re thrown back into the memory of that dusky night. The seal of his lips to yours, his fingers easing over the contours of your body like points on a star map.

Ignoring your thoughts, you conquer the distance between the door and his desk in measured strides, looking everywhere but at him. It’s too risky to maintain eye contact. He has a hold on you without trying. Without the straggly pull of his Evol, without the smoky compulsion of his voice. 

You plant the deed on the desk’s center with a muted thunk. His fingertips brush your knuckles, over the clutch of your hand. Static radiates between you. You reel back quicker than you mean to, bereft of the roughened slide of his fingers. Clear your throat, straighten your jacket. There’s a pinch between his brows, but it’s gone as quickly as it came. 

Sylus peers down at the paper, an inquisitive brow lifting at the oxidized brown dappling it. You give him a half-hearted shrug. You did your part. How you got there is a story for another day.

You don’t wait for him to dismiss you, wordlessly stepping away with a curt nod. He continues his conversation over your shoulder, and your body swells with relief. It’s short-lived when Ms. Hunter brushes past you on your way out of the door, tight-lipped and side-eyeing you with all the vexation of the world. 

Before you leave, you wait for the door to click shut behind you, catching wind of the hunter’s ire before thick layers of wood distort it. 

“Hang up the phone. We need to talk. Now.”

—

It’s a pleasure to dance. To forget yourself. 

Lux is lively tonight. Colored with mirth and strobing lights. Pounding music. You feel it in your chest as you move, a seductive, rehearsed smile crooking your lips. You rake your fingers through your hair. Drag your hands down the sweep of your waist, swiveling your hips, playing up your allure. You don’t have to do much to garner attention—it’s your job, remember?

You peacock about in the white metal birdcage you're housed in. Grab the bars, grinning down at the writhing crowd. It was your idea to give Lux a little umph, sweet-talking Sylus into having massive bird cages mounted from the ceiling. Fitting, given his obsession with pretty caged things.

Lux’s theme is ever-changing, courtesy of your eccentric mind. It keeps people coming in droves. Forces his enemies to rear their hideous mugs, lured to the nightclub by the promise of pretty women. 

The air between you was still dense. Rife with pheromones and unbidden feelings. But you were back donning your playful, arrogant mask as if the night you shared never existed. Back to flirting and giving Sylus the piss. 

The large faux wings you wear are surprisingly light. Stark, like the beautiful white tiger lounging on one side of the cage. The Bengal tiger yawns wide, giving you a show of pointed teeth. Teeth that could easily rip you asunder, yet he’s as docile as a house cat when you bend to pet through soft tufts of white. 

He slow-blinks at you, his gorgeous eyes shining like emeralds uncovered in a cave. You smile as you smooth your thumb over his nose. A pink tongue darts out to lick your palm. He reminds you of yourself—capable of extreme violence, yet docile in patient hands.

Your skin prickles. You notice you’re being watched, but not in a way you’re used to. A way that typically exudes desire. 

You turn to ingest a set of galaxy-infused eyes watching you intently through the throng of people. Youthful pockets of fat hang beneath his lower lids. A dark sweep of hair, thick brows. He towers over the crowd, a distinct cutout of virility and shrouded intentions. You don’t recall ever seeing him before. 

When your gazes intermingle, he smiles something corrupted. It doesn’t reach his eyes. You’re all too familiar with that look—one of a predator scoping out its next meal. Prey it intends to take its time eviscerating, licking its bones clean.

You smile all the more wider, and you smooth your hands over your body, maintaining eye contact as you play up the theatrics. It’s ritualistic in a way, how you move. Like you’re provoking him. You don’t know who this man is, but he’s ballsy, stepping into your den, challenging you.  

You tear your eyes away when the door to your cage swings open behind you, rocking it slightly on its hinges. A sizable hand peers in. You glance out, met with a riotous mop of white. Sylus. Gaze half-slit, relaxed. 

“Take five,” he says above the thumping music. 

You peer over your shoulder while taking his hand. The stranger you earlier locked eyes with has vanished, almost as if he were never there. You don’t pursue it. Not now at least. You allow Sylus to coax you down from the cage via hands at your waist. Stumble into him once on the ground, the air siphoned from your lungs. You're dizzy and breathless, being so close. He’s warm, smells divine, and you feel safe. Your palms press against his chest, his fingers wrapped about the crooks of your elbows to steady you.

He studies you with a reverent gleam to his irises as if he intends to kiss you, uncaring of any witnesses. Any questions. You shake away the thought, remembering yourself—your stance in his life. You offer him half a smile before retreating past him to the private bar for a drink. Something to ease your nerves, to cool your fevered skin.

Sylus’ expression hardens behind you as he scrutinizes the space you once stared at yourself. You don’t see the tenebrous threads of his Evol pouring from his body, licking the air. Don’t feel his aura bleeding a quieted malice, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. 

— tags: @unknown-ends, @viqlume, @nicohii, @beewilko, @lunebulous, @subliminalwish, @emneedshelp, @inkonparchment, @snowfall-jess, @bingbongchu, @greeenbeean, @shiorihoshino, @sillyfreakfanparty, @glamouroki, @midiplier, @kiri-tuk, @delulusimps, @moonlight-inthe-sea

climax 2.0 | masterlist | resolution

[sheerfreesia007]

Certified Lip Inspector

Pairing: Lee Felix x Reader

Word count: 1,732

Content warnings: Fluff, kissing

Summary: Felix keeps obsessively asking if his lips look weird, using it as a cheeky excuse to get your attention. What starts as playful teasing slowly unravels into tender moments that reveal just how deeply he craves your affection.

A/N: Divider was created by @adornedwithlight, thank you for sharing your dividers with tumblr!

SKZ Taglist: @kayleefriedchicken, @babigriin, @inlovewithstraykids, @channiesrightasscheek, @kaiyaba

@bookswillfindyouaway, @m-325

Yeobo: Honey

“Yeobo, do you think my lips look weird?” Felix asks you as the two of you are laying on the couch in your apartment one night. The two of you had spent the day gaming together for hours before breaking for dinner and now the two of you were just relaxing on the couch while the television played in the background and you both scrolled on your phones.

You jolt at his question and turn your head to stare at him bewildered only to find him pouting his lips out dramatically as he checks himself out on his cell phone’s camera. Sitting next to him watching silently as he continues to pout his lips and tilt his head from side to side you furrow your eyebrows at him confused.

”No, they look fine to me.” You answer him and his eyes dart over to you before he lowers his cell phone to pout fully at you which causes your eyes to dart down to his lips as he leans forward.

”You sure?” He asks worriedly and you frown softly at him wondering where this was all coming from. You nod your head at him as your eyes dart from his pout back up to his eyes, you can feel your neck beginning to heat up and you feel your heart thudding heavily in your chest. He had such pretty lush lips and you knew he took great care of them by always using lip scrubs and lip balms that had healing properties. You were actually quite jealous of how pretty and soft his lips looked but you’d never tell him that.

”Absolutely Fe.” You tell him as you raise your hand and poke his pouted mouth which causes him to jerk back and swat at your hand offended while you laugh delightedly. “You have perfectly fine lips. Stop stressing.” You reassure him as you grin over at him after he’s pulled far enough away from you to be at a safe distance. He raises his hands in a karate stance and you laugh at him delightedly before shaking your head.

You’re peering into Hyunjin’s closet helping him reorganize his clothes as the man lounges on the bed. You grab a shirt from a hanger and toss at Hyunjin while grumbling softly.

“I’m supposed to be helping you, not actually doing all the work.” you snip out him and he chuckles softly at your words while still scrolling on his phone before rolling across his bed.

“But you always do it so well. I love it when you reorganize my closet. It always turns out so neat and color coded.” he whines at you while staring at you from the bed. You roll your eyes before focusing back on his closet grumbling softly to yourself. Hyunjin starts to play some soft background music on his speakers while still lounging on the bed as you continue to work in his closet losing yourself in the task. You don’t hear his bedroom door opening or the soft happy hum that Hyunjin lets out at the appearance of the newcomer.

You’re shocked when you see something coming towards you quickly out of the corner of your eye. Jolting back from the thing you nearly trip over your feet but a warm sturdy arm wraps around your lower back and holds you up steadily so that you don’t fall backwards. Hyunjin makes a pleased sound from behind you before gasping softly in delight as you look up at pouting Felix whose eyes are sparkling with amusement.

“Yeobo” he coos at you and you raise an eyebrow at him in question knowing that he’ll have something more to say to you. “Do my lips look weird?” he asks and you stare at him bewildered. Your eyes dart down to his pout and you feel yourself melting inside. Your brain is muddled with confusion of why he would be asking you that, his lips are perfect and you don’t understand his obsession with needing to know if they look weird. You stare at them critically for a moment before you shake your head slowly.

“Felix, you know my answer to that question. You’ve asked me this already.” you tell him as your face morphs into a soft frown while you stare up at him. He grins down at you before pouting his lips once more.

“But Yeobo, I need to know. Do they look weird?” he asks again and your frown darkens slightly as you pull yourself upright while still being held by him.

“No Felix, they don’t look weird.” you answer him and he grins widely at you before wrapping you in a tight hug. You wrap your arms around him and pull him close as you tilt your head up so that you can whisper in his ear. “Has someone been telling you that your lips look weird?” you asked, causing Felix to pull back slightly to look at you with adoring eyes.

“No, I just worry sometimes that they look weird.” he told you and you shake your head at his words before cupping his face gently in your hands.

“You’re perfect Fe. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.” you tell him softly and Felix leans into your hands with a soft smile slipping onto his face. Suddenly Hyunjin squeals with delight and you’re reminded that you’re supposed to be reorganizing his closet. You quickly slip out of Felix’s arms and turn back to Hyunjin’s closet trying to get back into the reorganization that you’re doing. You don’t see Felix’s soft scowl directed at Hyunjin or Hyunjin’s soft frown at your actions. Felix moves closer to your side and begins helping you finish reorganizing Hyunjin’s closet.

You’re on your way to the dance studio to meet up with Felix to keep him company for the last bit of his dance practice before the two of you would head out for dinner together. It’s been a crazy couple of days and you haven’t been able to be there or check in with him as often as you normally would because of visiting family that you’ve been taking care of. Tonight was your first free night after they left and you had told Felix that you were having withdrawals of his presence which had made him giggle over the phone before he told you to come visit him towards the end of his practice and he’d take you out to dinner afterwards.

You pass Minho and Hyunjin in the hall on your way to go see Felix and they both grab you into a quick hug before letting you know that Felix is still in there practicing. Hyunjin even winks at you while Minho elbows quickly to get him to stop and tells you to ignore the pabo. You shake your head after the interaction before continuing on your way to the dance studio.

When you get there you knock before slowly opening the door. You spot Felix in the middle of the room running through a dance routine and you move to sit in front of the mirrors that he’s facing. Your eyes follow him like a hawk and your stomach twists with excitement as you watch him move so effortlessly. When the music ends and he stops dancing you stand up and begin clapping which causes him to grin at you before rushing over and wrapping you up in a tight hug.

”Yeobo!” He cries out happily and you laugh at him softly as you hug him back letting yourself settle into the hug for a moment before you pull back slightly to look up at him.

”I missed you.” You admit to him softly and he grins widely at you for a moment before pouting his lips prettily at you as he steps back a step while widening his eyes at you.

”You missed me or my weird lips?” He asked teasingly while still pouting at you. Something snaps within you as your eyes dart down to his lips and see the cute little pout he gives you, you don’t know if it’s because you haven’t seen him in the last couple of days or what but suddenly your hands are reaching up and towards him. You grab onto his shirt and pull him in towards as your head tilts up and you press your lips to his in a deep desperate kiss that has the two of you melting against each other. Felix wraps his arms low around your waist and keeps you pressed flush against him as his head tilts to the side and deepens the kiss even more. You both hum softly before pulling away from each other and you look at him with a raised eyebrow.

”Your lips are perfectly fine Fe. Stop fixating on them. There’s nothing wrong with them.” You tell him exasperatedly while rolling your eyes at him as he smirks down at you. Your eyes dart away from his as realize what you’ve done and hear his soft deep chuckle as your face heats with embarrassment. Felix giggles delightedly before he crowds you up against the mirror caging you in with his forearms pressed to the mirror next to your head.

”But how will I know if they’re okay if you don’t tell me and show me?” He asks huskily and your eyes dart up to his before narrowing with suspicion. Understanding invades your mind and you stare at him for a second before scoffing softly as his grin turns wicked and his eyes heat with desire. He presses in closer to you and you feel yourself lean into his body wanting to be as close as you possibly could to be.

”You just want me to kiss you.” You tell him skeptically and he nods his head eagerly before pouting his lips once more which makes you chuckle softly while rolling your eyes at him. “If you just wanted a kiss all you had to do was ask.” You tease him as your fingers dance up and down his chest flirtatiously which his pout morphs into that devilish grin of his.

”Yeah but I wanted to see how long it would take you to realize that’s what I’ve been asking for.” He said and you grumble at him before yanking him into another deep desperate kiss that he happily reciprocates as his arms wrap around you.

[eternallyordinary]

"The Exception" - Part 1

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Summary: He didn’t give you the card, but he’s the one who can’t look away. And when he pulls you out? He’s not planning to let you go.

Warnings: violence, death, kidnapping, power imbalance, possessiveness, manipulation, emotional tension, stalking, implied violence, murder planning, toxic relationship dynamics, yandere

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Him

They watch you through the screen.

Laughter hums like static, muffled behind the thick pane separating the predators from the prey. 

You don’t know it yet, but you’ve already become a focal point.

The center of gravity in a room full of men who believe everything is theirs to take. 

Sipping whiskey. Trading bets.

To them, you’re just a number. A choice on a gilded menu, dressed up for the slaughter.

But then he sees you.

At first, it’s nothing. A glance. Background noise.

But something makes him look again.

He narrows his eyes.

Something isn’t right.

He remembers every player he’s ever recruited.

Remembers the sound the Ddakji tile makes as it cracks against the floor.

The expressions people wear when they realize they’re being tested, not chosen. Their faces, their debts, their desperation.

But he never met you at the station.

Never offered you the card.

Never played the game with you.

He’d remember.

He’d remember the way your lashes cast shadows when you blink, or how your mouth parts slightly as you’re trying not to cry.

He’d remember the curve of your throat exposed so carelessly, like you don’t realize you’re being watched.

The way your fingers tremble as you hold yourself together—barely.

No.

Fuck.

He should look away.

But his gaze lingers, crawling over the slope of your spine. The way your hair falls against your back like silk he'd kill to touch.

You move like you don’t belong here. Like softness in a room meant for cruelty. Like something he wants to hide away and keep to himself.

No—

You're not someone he’d forget.

You're someone he missed—and that mistake is already burning in his chest.

Now that he’s seen you, he doesn’t want to stop.

So, what the hell are you doing here? And most importantly:

Who are you?

You

You thought it was part of the show. Some elaborate concept—performance art? A game? A... game show? You weren’t sure.

But the moment you woke up in that cold room, your memory hazy and your mouth dry, you knew something was wrong. Deeply, unmistakably wrong.

You were terrified. Disoriented. Alone.

An outsider, begging for someone—anyone—to hear you. To understand you. To literally understand you.

But hardly anyone speaks English. You’re drowning in words you can’t grasp, faces you don’t recognize, systems you don’t understand.

God, why didn’t you ever take the time to learn another language?

Why did you always assume you’d never need to?

Now you’re here. Trapped.

And no one cares.

Not about your questions.

Not about your panic.

Not about you.

You try to stay calm. Try to breathe through it.

But the room is too bright. Too quiet. Too wrong.

The walls don’t echo like they should. The corners feel too clean, too controlled. Like this place was built for watching, not shelter.

You speak again—your voice hoarse, trembling.

“Hello?”

Nothing. Just the shuffling of feet, a murmur in a language you don’t understand.

A few players glance at you, then look away, as if the sight of you—panicked and foreign—is uncomfortable.

Simply inconvenient.

You press your hands to your face and try to remember the last thing you did. The last thing you chose.

The casting call.

You’d been excited. A new opportunity. Big budget. NDA paperwork so strict it almost felt... important.

You’d boarded a private shuttle, signed your name, followed a handler who smiled too much and said too little. The rest?

Fog.

Now you’re here. In a holding cell of smiles and silence. In this sick theater.

There’s a weight pressing against your skin—like someone’s eyes are crawling across you. Memorizing you.

You can’t see him.

But he sees you.

Him

His attendance tonight was supposed to be a formality. A favor for the VIPs. Just another game.

But now, he can't focus.

In a matter of seconds, it feels like he’s known you forever. Like he’s been waiting for you.

Searching, without realizing it.

You don’t belong here. You shouldn’t be here.

And now that he’s seen you, he won’t be able to look away.

Not until he knows who you are.

Not just your name—no.

That’s not enough.

He wants to know what your voice sounds like when you're not trying to be brave.

What your skin feels like when it’s warm under his hands.

What your breath does when he leans in too close.

He wants to know the shape of your fear.

The taste of your relief when he tells you you're safe—with him.

He wants to learn every part of you, slowly, like a secret unwrapped by touch.

Because watching already isn’t enough anymore.

He needs you close.

Under him.

Against him.

He doesn't realize he's leaning forward until—

“A beauty, isn’t she?” one of the VIPs drawls, his voice thick with smoke and champagne, eyes glued to your figure on the screen. He tilts his head like he’s admiring fine art. Like you’re an object.

The Salesman doesn’t look at him.

His eyes stay on you—on the way you shift nervously, on the panic behind your composure.

His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking like a warning.

“Who is she?” he asks, voice low. Controlled. Dangerous.

The way he says it, it isn’t curiosity.

It’s a demand.

And beneath it, something darker—like the answer might justify violence.

“Oh, that one’s got a hell of a story.”

He doesn’t respond. Just stares—unblinking, unbothered—until the man feels the weight of it.

Heavy. Intimidating. A warning dressed as curiosity.

“Well?” he says, voice sharp with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Tell me the story. I could use a good laugh.”

The man chuckles nervously, shifting in his seat. “Well—it’s kind of... fucked up, actually.”

He takes a long drag of his cigar before continuing, smoke curling like a shield between them. 

“She’s an actress. Was in Seoul shooting some Samsung commercial. One of my buddies is high up in their marketing division. I saw her headshots in his office. Told him I wanted an introduction.”

He leans in, lowers his voice. “Couldn’t tell him the truth, of course. Had to play it clean.”

“The truth?”

A noisy, overweight Australian in a bear mask bursts out laughing, the sound crude and grating.

“Oh, you bastard, just say it,” he slurs, the cigar wobbling between his fingers as smoke snakes toward the ceiling. 

“Mate—he made her think it was just another gig. Told her it was some exclusive casting call. Real hush-hush, high-end stuff. Got her in here before she could even blink.”

The man grins wide—yellow teeth flashing beneath the mask, reeking of whiskey and ego.

“There was a bet. First one to reel in a foreigner for the games. Winner gets a ticket on that NASA moon tour. Real luxury shit. Guess the bastard won, eh?”

The VIPs erupt in laughter. Ugly, drunken noise—cigars smoldering between fingers, champagne sloshing in crystal glasses. Like you’re nothing more than a joke. Like your fear is entertaining.

He doesn't join them.

His eyes stay fixed on the screen, on you—shoulders drawn tight, lips parted like you're holding back a scream. You don’t even know you’re being watched. Tasted.

“Pretty little thing though,” one of them cackles. “Wouldn’t mind a private round, if you know what I mean.”

Another nudges him, slurring through smoke. “You like that type, don’t you? Fragile. Lost. Breakable.”

The Salesman says nothing. But he feels it—something hot and primal rising in him. He glances toward the Frontman.

They’ve known each other for years. Long enough for the Frontman to recognize the signs—the barely restrained violence that lives beneath his polished smile. The predator pacing behind the mask.

But this look? This is something else entirely.

Not rage. Not madness.

Obsession.

And just like that, in a single moment, you've become a fire he can't contain.

The hum under his skin.

The exception.

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PART 2

[sturnsdarling]

'you look like this song'

{insp by @sturnioz au} smartand'mean'!reader is getting ready in fratboy!Matts room whilst listening to Nirvana, and he can't keep his eyes, or hands, off of her.

vibe check: fluffy smut with no real plot, everyone's (my) fave

2k words

A/N: This is for the anon who's having a shitty month, i hope you love it and i hope it makes your september a little better. I had this idea after Matt was listening to nirvana on stream, i need to sit in his room and listen to music whilst i get ready on his floor and i need it NOW.

love and cigs, merc

You were sat on Matts bedroom floor, wearing nothing but a black lingerie set and a pair of fishnet tights with the crotch ripped out, a gift from you to Matt from a previous bathroom hookup. Your legs were crossed underneath you as you did your makeup in the body length mirror that you had found on the street, and claimed as your makeup mirror in Matts room.

You tugged at your eye slightly, smoking out the black liner you had just applied, effortlessly achieving that 'slightly fucked out but still hot' look that had become your signature style. Your playlist was on a loop, always hooking your phone up to Matts speakers regardless of whether or not he was there or not. 'Smells like teen spirit' by Nirvana began to play, the steady drums making the floor vibrate slightly.

The door clicked open, and Matt walked in the room, looking at his phone and bopping his backward cap clad head along to the music before turning his attention to you. You looked to him in the reflection from your spot on the floor and, of course, he was already looking at you. You shot him a small smile before returning to your makeup, moving onto applying a dark burgundy lip with a slightly open mouth.

Matt came to stand behind you, caressing your slightly tangled hair with a large hand. His hand came down to the side of your face and slid down your jaw, watching you intently in the mirror. Your focus didn't waver, still focused on your makeup as you patted and rubbed your plump, dark lips together.

Matt felt as if his mouth had began to water at the sight of you, his hand coming down to your jaw as the song continued to play in the background. He tugged at the bottom of your jaw, moving your head so you were looking up at him from your perched position on the floor, him towering behind you.

"hey, tough girl" Matt smirked, his hand snaking its way up and down your neck with soft fingers.

You smiled in return, batting your lashes at him like a cat, "hi, Matthew"

"you look sexy as fuck right now, you know that?" He said, his words rolling off his tongue like honey.

You chuckled slightly, rolling your eyes and attempting to return to doing your makeup, Matt tutted at your slight attitude with faux anger, pulling your head back up to face him as he leaned down on bent knees, capturing your neck in his hand and kissing you roughly.

The force he kissed you with sent you backwards, Matt catching you in his lap as he met you on the floor. Your head was cradled in his legs, your view of him upside down. Kurt Cobain was shredding on the guitar, the sound giving your face a whole new beauty that Matt was lost in.

"you look like this song" Matt muttered, in awe of how completely beautiful you were.

You couldn't help but laugh, lifting yourself up and turning round to face him, your legs tucked under you like a baby deer, "what?" you said with a smile.

Matt brought a hand to your jaw, swiping his thumb along your smudged lipstick, knowing it was probably stained on his mouth too,

"y'know how this song makes you feel when you listen to it? like you're vibrating, you can feel every cell in your body and your heart thumpin' in your chest so hard it could break a rib" Matt said, quoting you the first time you played this song in his presence.

"yeah?" You smirked with furrowed brows, letting Matt poke and prod at your puffy bottom lip.

"thats how you make me feel, when I look at you" Matt finally brought his eyes to yours.

Matts words made you feel warm all over, you couldn't even muster up a reply, the only thing in your mind being how not only was that easily the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to you, but how all you wanted to do in that moment was pin matt to the floor and ride in him into oblivion for remembering your exact words about one of your favourite songs of all time.

His eyes were pouring into yours, your breathing got slightly heavier and your mouth parted. The song was coming to end, steady drums and repeated 'hellos' being the only sound in the room as you attempted to form a sentence in reply to Matt.

Nothing you could think to say was coherent, or appropriate for the time frame in which you'd known each other so, you did the one thing you knew Matt would understand.

You threw yourself into him, capturing your lips in his with feverish passion, pressing your tongue against his almost immediately. Matt welcomed your attack, kissing you back with matched desperation. You crawled onto his lap, straddling him and raking your hands through the tangled curls at the nape of his neck, pulling his hat off to give you better access to his soft brown hair.

Matts hands were on your waist, pulling you down into him as he lowered you both onto the floor, his back pressing against the hard wood. His hands snuck up your nearly bare back, the feeling of his skin against yours sending you into a frenzy. Every press of his finger tips felt like hot wax as you quietly moaned into his mouth, grinding your hips against his, trying to chase any friction you could.

Matt tensed at your movements, hips rutting up into yours involuntarily as you pushed your barely clothed pussy down on his growing bulge.

"need it, now" you whimpered into the kiss, your words demanding but your tone desperate.

Matt chuckled, "right now, angel? thought you were gettin' ready?" he muttered into your mouth, chasing your lips.

"right now" you replied, speaking in two word sentences, unable to shake the fever that had overcome you.

Matt smirked and slid his hands down your back and over your fishnet covered ass, pulling apart your cheeks slightly, making you arch above him like a cat. Your hands left his hair and dipped in between the two of you, you fiddled with the button of his jeans, snaking your cold hand into his jeans.

Matt let out a short hiss, and you captured his mouth in yours once more, pumping him as best you could under the restriction of his jeans. Matt moaned into your mouth, and brought his hand down to your ass, smacking it in encouragement. You used your other hand to fumble with the top of his jeans, pushing them down with needy whines and whimpers into the messy kiss.

Once you had managed to free Matt of his jeans, him doing nothing to help, enjoying watching you be so desperate for his cock, you sat up, still pumping him in your hand as you did. Matt watched in awe, with your lipstick smudged over your face and your eyes fluttering with needy ache, you'd never looked more beautiful.

Matt came up slightly to rest on his elbows, eyes still trained on yours. You brought your free hand to his mouth and swiped your middle and index over his stained lips, Matt knew what you wanted, and took your hand in his, opening it into a small bowl in front of his mouth. He held eye contact with you, and collected his saliva on his tongue, spitting it into your palm. You smiled, taking your now wet hand and replacing the hand on his cock with it.

The feeling of your sticky hand against his cock made his head roll back on its hinge, eyes fluttering as a low groan left his mouth. You shifted your hand up and down his length, rubbing his spit all over his throbbing shaft and over his leaking pink head. Shifting slightly, you lifted yourself up, pulling your underwear to the side and lining Matts tip up with your aching hole.

You lowered down onto him, the burning stretch of his cock filling you up as you sunk down inciting a breathless moan from you, nudging your puffy clit against the scattering of hair at the base of his cock as you let him nestle into you completely.

Matts mouth was opened wide, his head snapping back up to watch as you sucked him into your tight walls completely, brows burrowed at the sensation of you clenching around him.

You began to move, resting your hands against his chest as leverage as you moved to place the bottoms of your feet against the floor, squatting on top of him.

The new angle made your pussy grip Matts cock in a way he'd never experienced before,

"oh fuck" Matt said through gritted teeth as you began to bounce on him.

You were lost in it, his earlier words playing on repeat in your mind as you moved up and down his veiny cock, relishing in the sting of him stretching out your unprepared pussy. Despite the lack of foreplay, you were soaked, and you could feel yourself leaking sticky juices against the base of his cock every time he bottomed out side of you.

Whimpering, desperate moans left your throat as you fucked him, taking him as deep as you could, milking him with every bounce. Matt couldn't keep his eyes off where the two of you met, watching as you rose up and down on his length, his whole body tingling at the feeling of your tight pussy coupled with the slight sting of your nails digging into your chest.

"m'gonna cum if you keep riding me like this, angel" Matt said, breathlessly as he reluctantly tore his eyes from your skin slapping against his and met your eye line.

"s'what I want, cum inside me, please" you mumbled, begging as you relentlessly milked his cock.

"you - fuck - you know the rules, angel, you -" Matt cut himself off with a moan, "you cum first" his eyes flit back to the sight of your perfect pussy taking him, and he brought his thumb up to your mouth, pushing it inside and laying it against your warm tongue.

You pushed your tongue against his digit, wrapping your lips around his lowest knuckle with a small hum. Matt pulled his thumb from your mouth with a pop, taking his free hand and using it to push you up slightly, giving him better access to your clit and the perfect opportunity to wrap his hand round your throat.

Matt laid back completely onto the floor, with one hand on your throat, and the other working your clit, he watched as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, unable to control your contorting face as he worked a relentless pace on your sensitive nub. You picked up your speed, ignoring the ache in your thighs as you desperately worked to get Matt to cum.

"tell m-" you stuttered, "tell me again"

Matt smirked, the events of the last few minutes adding up in his mind, you liked it when he told you how he felt about you, without actually telling you.

"you look like a Nirvana song, angel, so pretty n' so messy, all for me" He cooed, trying his best to make his words clear despite his fucked out, wavering tone.

"mphm" your brows knit together, you shifted your position, straddling him once more to grind your hips back and forth against his.

The drag of your pussy against his base, along with the wet, sticky pace Matt was setting on your clit and his perfect words made you see stars, and you came all over his cock, vision going blurry as you reached your high.

You moaned out his name, unable to stop the noises that left your mouth as you shook above him, legs tensing around his hips and nails digging little crescent moons into his chest.

"fuck, pretty girl, you look s'good when you cum all over my cock" Matt said, bringing a hand to hold your hip, grinding you down onto him faster as you started to get lightheaded.

"y'want me to fill you up, angel? soak your perfect pussy in my cum whilst your favourite songs play in the background?" Matt mumbled, slowing his pace on your clit and moving his other hand to your hip.

"please" you whimpered

Matt didn't need any more permission, he lifted you up slightly, the movement making you flop forward onto him, catching yourself with a hand round his jaw. Without warning, he began to pound into you, using his grip on your hips as leverage to mercilessly fuck your weeping pussy.

You let out a broken moan, trying to capture his lips in yours but failing, trailing wet, sloppy pecks on his mouth as he thrust into you at a feverish pace, grunting and groaning at the feeling of you clenching around him.

"so fuckin' needy for me, tough girl, all because I told you somthin' nice" Matt said though gritted teeth, "you feel as good as you look, y'know that?"

You couldn't even begin to muster a reply, only moans spilling from your mouth as Matts relentless pace into your pussy made you completely cock dumb. With a few hard, long thrusts, Matt buried himself inside you completely, dick twitching in your walls as he coated them with his cum, moaning your name as he went limp beneath you.

You breathed into each others mouths, foreheads rested against each others as your body weight relaxed down onto him.

"you gonna keep getting ready, angel?" Matt mumbled, pulling out of you.

"mhm" you nodded breathlessly, "just need a minute"

Matt chuckled, wrapping his tattooed arms around you as you caught your breath on top of him. "okay tough girl" He said, just before pressing a long kiss into the side of your head.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10 @cherib3lla @jetaimevous @witchofthehour

[pboogerswbb]

TOO LOST IN YOU - part VIII

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

Warnings: SMUT AND I MEAN FILTH, language

Wordcount: 6K

A/N: okay got this done and was hugely motivated by the way i was crashing out all day yesterday after waking up to that trippin out tiktok... anyway this is literally pure smut lol but i hope you enjoy it! this series is beginning to come to an end, this is the second to last part! i'm so sad to let palerie go :(( i love them to death! i think there'll be one more part and an epilogue eventually ANYWAYS go read you freaks! once again send me your thoughts!! smoochies x

-

Relief is all I feel when Paige kisses me back, my legs wiggling in the air as our lips move together. The familiar taste of the blonde’s lips is beyond comforting, every cell in my body wanting more. It felt liberating to finally admit what my subconscious had known all along. I love her badly.

Carefully I’m placed back onto the ground, Paige’s forehead resting against mine as we pull our lips apart hesitantly, both of us breathing heavy. Before I can speak Paige opens her mouth.

“You wanna go for a drive? Let’s go for a drive.”

And so we walk to the blonde’s Jeep, the tension between us palpable. Until now it had been like some sort of shared secret of ours. Now, finally addressed out loud it somehow made the tension stronger.

Both our chests are heaving as we sit silently in Paige’s car. Her hands work the wheel smoothly, hand coming over to rest on the back of my seat as she backs out, heading out of the parking lot I watch her closely, noticing the bags under her eyes. She must not have been sleeping enough.

“Where are we going?” I ask carefully as we enter the highway, Paige handing me her phone to set up some music - strange because the Paige I knew would never let anyone else pick the music in her car, let alone let me touch her phone. I suppose a lot would change now. I pick one of her playlists randomly, full of R&B.

“I wanna show you something,” the blonde murmurs, her eyes focused on the road. For a second I hesitate, doubt taking over in my head. Maybe I shouldn’t have said “I love you” earlier, perhaps it was a bit much, a mistake. But like reading my mind, Paige’s free hand grabs mine and brings it to her lips, kissing it. Nope, definitely wasn’t a mistake.

With soft beats playing in the background we sit in silence, both of us taking our time to process everything between us. Finally we pull up to a field, full of trees showing signs of foliating, reminding us of the approaching summer ahead. The small parking lot is desolate on a Wednesday night. The view is beautiful as the car faces the trees and the hilly plains - still, I’m not sure why we were here.

“It’s really pretty in the fall,” Paige says, staring out the window. “The leaves get all red and orange.” I nod, still slightly confused why she brought me here.

“When I first came to Storrs me and my dad stopped here and just sat for like an hour not even talking before he dropped me off,” the blonde continues, her voice gentle. “Ion think either of us was ready to say bye so we just sat here.”

I listen carefully, giving her space to talk.

“Since then when I feel overwhelmed or just need some distance I come here.”

I nod, “It’s really pretty.”

Paige nods too, “Yeah.”

Sighing, she turns her head to me, our eyes meeting. The way she’s fiddling with her hands tells me she’s nervous. 

“I’m scared,” Paige says, merely whispering. I feel a pang of empathy take over me, I wish there was a way for me to take all that away, to carry it for the both of us.

“Me too,” I admit.

The blonde shakes her head though, lightly taking my hands into hers, thumbs brushing over my skin.

“You don’t get it Val, there’s just no way I won’t disappoint you all the time. Basketball takes so much of my time, it just has to be my priority. It’s like no matter what I do I disappoint you or I disappoint everyone else, coach, my team, my dad…”

She’s rambling now, her walls coming down, completely open for me. It was entirely new. Yet seeing her like this made it all clock in my head - why she was the way she was. I never considered her behaviour to have any other motive than being an asshole.

“Paige,” I stop her. “I know the game’s your life. It comes first, always. I’ve always got that, none of that’s gonna change. I know it’s your world.”

The blonde rubs her own face, working hard to push through the uncomfortable vulnerability of her emotions.

“No ‘s not just that, I dunno if that’s what I want. Ion wanna live life like that, Ion want you to come second,” Paige sighs, rubbing her jaw. Oh.

“Then we’ll make space for both,” I comfort her, my thumbs rubbing her hands soothingly.

Paige sighs, clearly worried. “But what if that makes me like… mediocre, what if the reason I’ve been great is because I made the game my whole life?”

I shake my head. “You’ve been great because you, Paige, are great. That’s not gonna change,” I kiss both her hands, her skin cold against my lips. “You’re the best in the country, remember?”

She grins weakly, blue eyes watching me closely. “You really think so?” She asks, and I’m shocked by the vulnerability of her voice, something completely new to me.

“I know so Paige,” I nod, letting go of her hands. She looks at me for a while, eyes roaming my face. She looks almost ethereal in the warm light of the car, contrasting with the darkness outside.

“I talked to Justine,” she admits.

“I know you did, she told me.”

“Oh.”

A silence falls between us as Paige looks out the window into the dark field, fidgeting with the strings of her sweatpants.

“She’s cool, Ion wanna come between you guys if you’re happy, she’s good for you and-”

“Paige?” I interrupt, my voice careful.

She turns to look at me.

“It’s over with her. For good,” I say, our eyes meeting. There’s a flicker of surprise in Paige’s gaze as she takes in my words. I guess it was my turn to be vulnerable.

“Look, I never liked her the way she deserves. I just couldn’t be with anyone, my mind’s just too stuck on you. Like I can’t think of anyone else, and I know hearing that kinda thing makes you anxious but I just need to be honest-”

“It doesn’t make me anxious Val,” Paige says, stopping my rambling. “Shit, Val, I feel like that too. And then seeing you with Justine, it drove me fucking crazy…”

She leans her head back, resting it against the seat, her eyes low and jaw sharp as she thought. “I’ve been such a dick Val, I dunno how you can ever forgive me,” she sighs, a hint of desperation in her voice. I can feel my heartbeat rising as I take in the blonde’s words. It was everything I had been waiting to hear from her.

Her blue eyes flicker to mine, brows furrowing the slightest bit. “I’m sorry Valerie, for everything,” she says, and I can tell she means it.

I feel my lower lip trembling out of control, my eyes getting wet as I try and blink the tears away. I had waited to hear those words this whole time, to hear her mean it. The second a tear rolls down my cheek Paige wipes it away and reclines her seat, making space for me.

“C’mere, please,” she pleads. I climb my way over to her, sitting on her right thigh and wrapping my arms around her neck, letting her hold me across her lap, her legs spread wide in her grey Nike sweats to make me more comfortable .

It felt euphoric having her this close, for all this pent up emotion from the past 6 months to release. The blonde’s hand comes to brush through my long hair as she brings my head to rest on her shoulder, pressing her cheek against the top of my head.

“Lemme show you I can do better, I promise I’ll work so damn hard to show you Val,” she whispers, hungry for my forgiveness. Her lips press against the top of my head, her breath hot against my scalp. “I’mma crawl and get on my knees if you want me to, I’ll do anything you want Val just gimme a chance.”

I swear I had never felt so much affection for another person, for the girl holding me when I raise my head to see the desperation in her eyes, the way she was biting down on her plump bottom lip. Bringing my hand to her cheek I lean in and kiss her. Softly, slowly, my lips feeling for every inch of hers, telling her without any words what she needed to hear. That I forgive her.

Paige exhales harshly, her strong hand coming to hold the back of my head as she pulls me closer, both of us fighting the whimpers we wanted to let out. Those two weeks apart had been like drowning. Only now I became aware of the overwhelming homesickness that had been looming over me that time apart. Finally having her lips on mine, smelling the familiar scent of her deodorant and feeling the warmth of her skin, I could feel the homesickness wash away slowly. There was no need for it anymore. I was home.

“I love this song,” Paige whispers against my lips, her nose nuzzling mine. My heart flutters when I hear the first beats to my favourite song in the world - The blonde knew this of course, I had introduced the song to her in the first place. Now it had made itself into Paige’s playlists, every lyric reminding her of me. “Me too,” I answer.

“You look into my eyes, I go out of my mind

I can't see anything 'coz this love got me blind

I can't help myself, I can't break the spell”

“Valerie?” Paige asks, her voice deep and soft in the same way it was in the mornings, when the first beams of sunlight woke her up and she was holding me tight, whispering into my ear.

“Mhm?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” Her voice is shaky, unsure - not because of what she’s saying but because of what I might answer. My heart races and I can’t fight the smile that spreads onto my face, a satisfied hum escaping my lips.

“Yeah,” I murmur, nuzzling my nose against Paige’s again.

The blonde pulls me into a kiss, both of us smiling making our teeth clank together but it only makes us smile more. I open my eyes to look at her as we both giggle together, my cheeks turning rosy. 

“That got me lil nervous not gonna lie,” Paige smiles and pulls me into another kiss, this one wasn’t cute and giggly though - it was slow, serious, meaningful. Suddenly my body reacts, breath hitching in my throat as the blonde’s hand tenderly caresses up and down my thigh. I felt like I’d been starved, everything in my body aching for her.

“And my knees are weak

And my mouth can't speak

Fell to far this time”

I shift on her lap to straddle her, Paige’s breathing growing heavy between us two as we kept up with the unhurried kisses, her hand on my thigh slowly sneaking upwards, finally stopping on my ass, gently fondling. Every movement is soft, purposeful. Paige leaning back on the seat unzips her grey Nike hoodie, taking it off as I pepper her jaw with kisses, my lips gently working to elicit hums and deep exhales from the girl. 

“Baby, I'm too lost in you

Caught in you

Lost in everything about you

So deep I can't sleep, I can't think”

Breathing heavy, the blonde now in a white tee reclines the seat all the way down, pulling me on top of her, big hands on my ass growing needier, gripping harder. The heat between my legs makes me whimper into her mouth, Paige’s eyes squeezing shut in response. Our tongues finally meet, and it quickly gets sloppy, my lips glossy with saliva as the blonde’s hand tilts my head by my jaw, trying to get more of me, impossibly so.

Fingers brushing through my hair Paige gently tucks my head to the side, her lips kissing from my jaw to my neck, her warm tongue leaving a wet trail from my shoulder to my ear, sucking on my earlobe. I let out a soft moan, feeling chills run down my spine, all the way to my aching core. 

“I just think about the things you do

I'm just too lost in you”

“I need you Valerie,” Paige murmurs into my ear, her voice desperate and needy immediately making me wetter. I can only nod, trying hard to form the words.

“I need you too Paige.”

The blonde curses into my ear, pulling down her sweats, breathing so heavy her mouth is wide open, hips bucking towards me. Pulling back I see her blue eyes almost completely dark with lust as she gazes up at me, brows furrowed in a needy frown..

“Well, you whisper to me

And I shiver inside

You undo me and move me in ways undefined

And you're all I see

And you're all I need

Help me baby, help me now”

The look on her face is enough to leave me moaning, my core on fire now, aching. Without looking away from my eyes, Paige’s hands come to my white sweats, swiftly pulling them off, leaving me in a white baby tee and black panties - completely soaked from how badly my body was crying out for her.

Never breaking eye contact, the blonde grabs my wrist and pulls it to her clothed core, letting out a guttural groan when my fingertips press into the wet fabric of her boxers, rubbing against her clit. 

“Oh, P,” I whimper, my lips parting when she raises her muscular thigh enough for it to meet my cunt, hand gripping my hips, gently guiding me to grind against her.

“Baby,” Paige moans breathily, her blue eyes locked in mine as longing whimpers fill the car, only swallowed by the song in the background.

“'Cause I'm slippin' away

Like the sand to the tide

Flowing into your arms, falling into your eyes”

“Missed you so much baby,” the blonde whimpers, licking her lips as I let out a desperate whine, the friction of her thigh not quite enough. 

“Me too baby,” I moan, letting Paige’s hands move my hips against her, pressing my hand against her cunt harder, rubbing in circles. The wetness between my legs was getting overwhelming, making me lightheaded - desperate for release.

Paige takes note, hearing the need in my moans. Her fingertips pull my thong down my legs, groaning when she feels my wet cunt press back onto her bare thigh, flexing her muscles there to provide more pressure on my clit.

“Oh god,” I let out shakily, jaw falling slack. Paige’s hand comes up to caress my cheek, shaking her head to herself. 

“You’re so beautiful Val,” she murmurs, pulling me down into a needy kiss, swallowing all my moans as I grind my wet cunt against her warm, muscular thigh, her fingertips digging into my hips. 

“If you get too near I might disappear

I might lose my mind”

Holding my hips, Paige flips us over, handling me with care, my back against the seat now and legs pried wide open by her strong hands. 

“Shit,” she whispers, watching the way my skin is glistening with wetness, pulling her own boxers down hastily, tongue darting out to wet her lips. I can’t look away from her face, the way her cheeks have gone red, her eyelids are heavy, dark lashes fluttering as she lifts one of my legs over her shoulder.

Her hands grip my hips and pull me down on the seat forcefully, our cores slotting together making me gasp, hands desperately gripping the seat underneath me.

“Paige,” I moan, my eyes fluttering shut as her hips press into mine, a shaky exhale escaping her lips.

“Oh fuck,” Paige breathes, hands slowly rising up my sides to lift my shirt enough to reveal my bare breasts. The blonde seems grateful I hadn’t bothered to wear a bra today.

I feel overwhelmed when Paige’s hips start rolling into mine, our wet cunts grinding into each other harshly. As she groans, her clit angles against mine just right to make my back arch and eyes roll back.

“Look at me mama,” she pleads, hand coming to hold my cheek. My eyes flutter open and I see the blonde hovering over me, strands falling out of her bun and silver chains dangling over my face, her expression filled with ecstasy - the sight is almost enough to get me to come right there and then.

From the blonde’s face I can tell she feels the same, her movement picking up speed, the sounds of our dripping cunts rubbing together filling the car. I feel like I’m falling apart, every cell in my body on fire. Ever so observant, Paige’s fingers slide into mine, the affection behind the gesture making me lightheaded.

“I'm going crazy with love for you baby

I can't eat and I can't sleep”

I’m overcome with the desire to feel the weight of her lips, hands suddenly pulling Paige down into a sloppy slow kiss, taking turns moaning into each other’s mouths. I was holding my whole world in my hands, and that enough was making me throb, my climax building incredibly fast.

“I'm going down like a stone in the sea

No-one can rescue me”

Our noses nuzzling against one another, Paige is panting loudly, her movements beginning to turn sloppy and frantic.

“I love you,” she moans into my mouth, making me mewl in response, the emotions stirring within me were overwhelming and so incredibly real I could’ve cried. I love her, she loves me, Paige, Paige, Paige - that’s all I could think of.

“I love you,” I cry out, my legs trembling now. The blonde on top of me grabs my thigh, holding me still and open for her as her hips roll faster, even more wildly, shaking her head to herself, doing everything to keep going and coax me to the edge.

“I fucking love you Val,” she whimpers again, the words like an oath as I feel the coil in my stomach tighten, on the verge of snapping. Hearing her words makes a moan spill from my lips but she swallows it, pressing her lips onto mine.

“Baby, you’re gonna make me come,” I murmur against her lips, our noses pressed together as her clit brushes against mine, my eyes rolling back into my head. Paige’s eyes don’t close though, fighting to keep her gaze on me.

“Shit, I can’t wait I gotta come ma,” she whimpers, both hands gripping my hips now keeping me still. The blonde’s whole body’s shaking on top of me, muscles tired from the strain.

“Paige,” I whimper, feeling her other hand quickly return to mine to hold it.

“I got you baby, come with me.”

That’s enough to finally make the coil snap, my whole body trembling beneath the blonde in pleasure. I’m cocooned in her existence, her scent filling my nostrils, moans filling my ears, body weight on me as she kisses my open mouth desperately, our cunts grinding together in a haze as Paige reaches her orgasm.

“Oh, fuck Valerie,” she whines into my mouth, our noses pressed tight together as she squeezes my hand, waves of pleasure taking over our bodies. Everything was about her, the woman I loved on top of me. 

There’s a sound of heavy breathing between us. I feel Paige’s nose nuzzle into mine softly, lips pressing a tender kiss on mine - one that tells me everything I needed to know. She loves me.

“I love you,” I whisper, still holding her hand as I flutter my eyelids open and I’m met with those bright blue eyes.

“I love you so much,” she whispers back, kissing my forehead. My chest feels warm, swelling with affection towards the blonde on top of me.

“Valerie?”

I nod.

“I’m gonna take you home now,” she murmurs, peppering gentle kisses along my face. “And you’re gonna keep coming for me. Until you know how damn much I love you.”

-

Thank the Lord her roommates aren’t home is all I think of when I hear the mewl that Valerie lets out, hips squirming but I’m pinning them down as I lap her up, face buried into that perfect pussy I wanted to eat for the rest of my life if she let me. 

“No no no, P-” she whines, overstimulated but I keep going even more hungry now, loving the sounds coming out of her. If I had kept count right this was round 4 of the night, but I couldn’t stop. I needed Valerie to know how much I loved her, because I did. Every cell in my body loved her, worshipped her, would walk through fire for her.

“Baby please one more,” I whimper into her pussy, my face covered in her at this point, all of my hair falling out of the bun I wore earlier. The brunette is on her back, gripping my hair tight. She was pulling my face closer pretty hard for someone trying to get me to stop - seems like I knew what she needed better than she did.

“Too much,” Valerie cries, gasping as her body writhes beneath me. I pin her hips down harder, pressing my tongue flat against her and shaking my head. She looks so fucking gorgeous like that, sweat dripping down her neck, hair sticking to her face and back arched, perfect face scrunched up in pleasure. 

“I love you baby,” I coo, grabbing hold of her hand gripping the sheets, intertwining my fingers with hers. I squeeze, grounding her. This had been our routine all night - one of us too overstimulated and the other reminding why we were doing this. Because we were utterly, completely in love with each other.

My tongue rolls over her clit making the girl’s legs shake around my head and suddenly she’s coming again, my mouth working hard to bring her over the edge. 

“I love you,” Valerie moans as she comes. I had quickly come to the realisation that it was my favourite sound in the entire world. 

“Perfect girl,” I murmur, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand and sliding back up to crash next to the trembling girl.

“You’re tryna kill me huh?” Valerie asks, her voice shaking as she pulls a blanket over her naked body. Grinning, I pull the brunette against my side, kissing her temple. 

“Just tryna love you mama,” I say, sniffing the familiar scent of coconut on her hair. My words make her giggle and fuck, it melts my heart. Immediately I kiss her temple again. I felt as if my heart could burst out of mere love. I had never felt anything close to this, there was no such euphoria in the world than loving Valerie - my Valerie.

Her big brown eyes turn to look at me, and I can’t fight the sigh that escapes my lips. My gaze roams her face, taking in each detail. The round cheeks, pouty full lips, small nose and those damn doe eyes that drove me insane. She was easily the most beautiful girl I had ever laid my eyes on. I would make this right, do anything to keep her in my life. No more fucking around, this was it.

Loving her came naturally, almost accidentally. From that first time I kissed her after making her come, to all the rules I broke for her since, the girls I blocked and left behind, it was so shockingly easy. The way I wasn’t panicking right now - the way my body and mind felt completely at peace holding the brunette girl in my arms. Holding my whole world.

“You’re so beautiful,” Valerie whispers, her eyes watching over my features. My cheeks flush pink, a smile growing on my face.

“Nothing compared to you,” I respond, my hand brushing through her golden brown hair. “But Val…?” I carefully ask, making her brows furrow in confusion.

“Y-yeah?” She carefully asks as I take a deep breath.

“I need to take you on a date. A real one, okay?”

Suddenly she hits me over my arm - not hard but enough to sting. 

“Hey!” I yelp, rubbing the skin.

“Dude! You freaked me out!” She yells, sitting up on the bed. 

“What?? How????”

Valerie rolls her eyes, looking at me mad. “The way you said it, what the hell is wrong with you!”

She pouts her lower lip and I swear it’s so cute it nearly makes me cry. She really had me wrapped around her little finger without a clue in the world.

Grinning, I poke her soft cheek, watching her. “Sorry I worded that bad as hell.”

“I thought you were gonna tell me something bad,” Valerie murmurs, her face changing from mock anger to real concern. I sit up on the bed, confused.

“Like I dunno, I thought you were gonna say you don’t wanna be with me or don’t actually love me or something.”

I’m speechless, my heart breaking into a million pieces. I had fucked her over even worse than I realised if she felt like I was able to do that. I could never, ever say any of those words. I wanna punch my previous self, reflecting on what an asshole I had been towards the girl I loved.

“Baby… You don’t have to worry ‘bout that trust,” I murmur and place a careful hand on her arm. I try to chase her gaze but she looks everywhere but my eyes.

“How can I be sure? What if you change your mind?”

I pull her into a tight embrace, smoothing over her hair. It feels impossible for me to think I’d ever change my mind about her. It was as if the feelings I’d pushed aside all these months all came to me at once now that I allowed them. I didn’t know what the future might hold for me, for us - hell, I was about to leave for the league soon, my entire life was bound to change. But I was hellbent on figuring out a way for this to work. Because all of a sudden it was impossible to even imagine a life without the brunette in my arms - craziest part of all was that the idea of spending eternity with her didn’t scare me.

“Not about this, not about you Val,” I tell her, my naked body holding her, bare skin touching. “You got no idea what kinda power you got over me,” I admit, pressing a kiss into Valerie’s hair. There was no going back for me anymore.

The brunette nods, eyeing my face for any hint of dishonesty - there was none. 

“C’mere,” I murmur, leaning against the headboard of the bed and making space for her between my legs. As she’s about to straddle me I shake my head, signalling with my hand for her to flip around.

“Other way, c’mon.”

“Paige, what-”

“Just trust me baby.”

The brunette obedient as ever sits between my legs, her back pressing to my chest as I wrap my hands around her petite body from behind. The reflection of us in the mirror, the way my body is enveloping her in my arms makes a warmth spread all over me. I watch over Valerie’s naked figure, goosebumps rising on her skin as I drag my other hand over her breast, thumb gently brushing against the hard nipple. The girl in my arms lets out a shaky breath, face completely flushed in the mirror.

“Paige… you said that was the last one earlier,” she whispers, voice shaking slightly as my eyes are locked onto her reflection, watchful for every reaction as my hands caress her skin from behind. Taking my time to run them along her arms, the skin of her sides, up her stomach to her breasts. I could’ve kept going all day, my arousal growing with each second.

“One more,” I answer back, voice merely audible as my fingertips reach to her thighs, gently fondling the skin there. “Gotta get it in your head how much I love you ma.”

The brunette’s cheeks burn hotter, her eyes fluttering shut as I pry her legs open with careful hands, the wetness between her legs making her glisten in the mirror. I was drunk off her, my eyes unable to look anywhere else but her dripping cunt.

“Look,” I say, my voice soft but authoritative enough for Valerie to know that it’s not a request. Her big brown eyes open, meeting mine in the mirror. I shake my head.

“Nuh uh, not at me, at yourself mama,” I murmur hoarsely, my right hand inching up her inner thigh, closing in on where she was visibly throbbing already. God that pussy really was perfect.

“Paige,” Valerie whines and I immediately shush her, pressing a kiss on her shoulder from behind her.

“I know I know I got you,” I coo, slowly bringing my fingertips to her swollen, red clit from the way it’d been manhandled all night. A light brush is enough to get the brunette trembling, watching the way my fingers move in a slow, sloppy circle against her folds. 

“So fucking pretty,” I praise, her wetness covering my hand. “It’s all mine, right?”

“Mhm,” she whines, hips squirming as I speed up a little, the wet sounds caused by my movements taking over the room once more.

“Tell me,” I whimper, kissing along her shoulder. “Tell me this pussy’s all mine.”

Valerie nods, nearly closing her legs on me but my other hand is quick to grab her thigh, prying them open again.

“It’s all yours,” she moans, throwing her head back to rest on my shoulder. I can’t look away from the way she looks in the mirror, muscles contracting, body squirming, neck exposed and tits perked up all for me. 

“I’m yours Paige.”

Her words make me moan out loud, unable to stop myself as I suddenly press two of my long fingers inside her, causing enough of a stretch to make her gasp.

“Fuck baby you’re all mine,” I groan, curling my fingers upwards from behind her, eyes locked onto the way her cunt is swallowing me up, gushing around me.

“Don’t stop that,” she whimpers desperately, legs trembling as I pick up my movements, fingertips pressing against the spongy tissue inside her. I could feel my own wetness pooling between my legs from the way she was falling apart for me.

My free hand grabs Valerie’s jaw, returning her face to view the mirror. “See that? So fucking pretty,” I groan, making her open her eyes. She watches herself, blushing from seeing the mess I’d made of her. “Need you to keep watching yourself baby,” I pant, letting go and reaching for the vibrator next to me. Valerie obeys, eyes locking onto my fingers pumping in and out of her furiously, the squelching sound overwhelming the room.

Sneaking my other hand around her waist, the buzzing of the toy surprises her but it’s the way I press it against her clit that gets her to start falling to pieces. The brunette’s eyes roll into her head, making me pull the vibrator off her. There was no way she was coming without seeing how fucking incredible she looked rolling off the edge.

“Don’t be stupid baby, watch,” I command, adding a third finger to really make her feel the stretch.

“No I can’t, I can’t,” Valerie moans, writhing in my arms and gasping for air.

“Watch.”

My tone is dominant, so much so that it makes Valerie’s eyes pop open and stare into the mirror as I return the blue wand to press against her clit. Immediately she starts gushing all over me, and I’m grateful for the towel we’d placed under us earlier.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” I coo into her ear, my cheek pressing against her head, feeling her pussy throbbing desperately around my fingers. It felt so good to call her mine, and to know it was true. No one else’s, my Valerie.

“Mmmhm, Paige I can’t,” she mewls, struggling badly to keep her eyes open - trying so hard to obey. Just the thought is nearly enough to make me come untouched.

“But you’re doing so good for me baby, need you to see how fucking pretty you look coming for me,” I praise, turning up the toy even higher, my legs wrapping around Valerie’s to keep them spread open.

“Oh fuck,” she writhes, gasping for air as my fingers pump even faster, filling her tight cunt. I could tell she was close, her fingers digging into my forearm.

“C’mon, so fucking pretty, my girl,” I murmur, staring at her in the mirror unsure where to look - her perfect face scrunched up in pleasure, tits sitting pretty on her body or the soaking cunt making even more of a mess on my fingers.

“P- I think I’m gonna-” she’s gasping, unable to finish her sentence.

“Watch your face baby, do it for me,” I moan, feeling the way she was squeezing my fingers which only spurs me on.

“Paige!” She cries out as the pleasure reaches its peak, her body squirming and eyes locked onto her reflection as she comes undone, the vibrator on her clit making her gush all over my fingers which are pounding into her relentlessly. I let out a moan, feeling the way she’s throbbing around me. I could never get tired of this.

She comes down quickly, pushing my hands away from her. I wanna press the toy against her again, hell even slide it inside her - but I can tell she’s completely, utterly fucked out. Turning off the toy I slip my fingers out, pressing gentle kisses and nibbles on her shoulder, now covered in red marks all done by me, marking what was mine.

“Okay, no more,” Valerie pants, wiping her sweaty forehead as she crashes back against me. I grin proudly, wiggling downwards so we’re lying down, the brunette turning in my arms so her front is pressed upon mine.

“You got it ma’am,” I smirk and kiss her forehead, arms wrapping around her tightly. She presses her head on my chest, humming contently. 

“So about that date… Lemme take you out this weekend,” I murmur against her hair. Valerie chuckles softly and moves her wide eyes to mine. 

“On an actual date?” She asks excitedly, and I nod unable to fight the smile growing on my face.

“It’s about time, don’t you think ma?” I ask, brushing the brunette strands of hair sticking to her forehead. Only now I notice how exhausted my body is, muscles strained and eyes nearly shutting from the lack of sleep I’d been getting.

“Fuck yeah it is,” Valerie hums, noticing the way I was nearly nodding of. “Are you sleeping here?”

I scoff loudly. “Course I am, watchu mean?”

“Well I dunno, you’ve never slept here before!” She says, voice rising defensively. She’s right though, I guess it wasn’t as obvious to her as it was for me.

I reach for the brunette’s chin and pull her into a tender kiss, nose nuzzling against hers.

“I wanna stay,” I say against her soft lips. “But we should shower first because you’re a mess.”

Valerie scoffs in mock offense, looking down at me.

“And whose fault is that?” She giggles that bright, perfect giggle that I adore, making me giggle too.

“All mine,” I say proudly, kissing her. She’s all mine now.

-

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @wbbismypassion69 @bueckersfive @onlyhereforpazzi @lovegalor333 @frankoceanlvr303039 @angryflowerwitch@mamixdanni @rosemariiaa @d3arapril @vbueckers @sageworld @makethemhoesmad @sierrale8ne @oreo2sblog @slvt4her @julieloveswbb@vsz333 @faeries-posts @vamptizm @ellapurnellmybeloved @ivorygoal @onlyhereforpazzi @thelightknight21@paigeluvvr@absolutelydreadful@imamartini@lupinqs@authentic-girl03@isurpussygreen@xxloveralways14 @numberonepartyanth3m @pb524830

[punishereditz]

The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia

Pairing: Jack Reacher x f!reader

Warnings: 18 Plus only! Minors DNI! DO NOT COPY! THIS STORY CONTAINS HEAVY SUBJECTS! Mentions of murder. Mentions of trafficking. (Not detailed.) Smut. Unprotected sex. P in V. Oral. (F receiving) Dirty talk. Size kink. Praise kink. Scratching. Creampie.

AN: Reba, you are my queen

Word count: 2.5k

Summary: Well, don't trust your soul to no backwoods Southern lawyer. 'Cause the judge in the town's got bloodstains on his hands

~

The station was silent expect for the small grunt you let out as you stretched. It was going on 11 pm, everyone had done left expect for you and Reacher. He was determined to keep working. This case was eating him alive. When a man he was stationed with years ago randomly shows up dead, he knew he had to look into it. The more he looked though, he learned just how complicated this whole thing was. The mayor. The judge. Lawyers. Officers. The preacher. All dead in a spam of a couple months. Why were all the men with high power in the town suddenly dying? He couldn't figure it out.

"Where's the files on the preacher?" Reacher asked as he stood with a soft sigh.

"Over at Scott's desk." You answered and looked back down to your papers. With a nod from Reacher, he walked across the room over to the chief's desk. Rustling through the papers before he found what he was looking for. He started to make his way back to your office, but as he walked down the hall, he came to a sudden stop. Taking a step back, he looked at the framed photo on the wall.

A picture of the mayor cutting a ribbon. Then his eyes drifted to the woman standing next to him. She looked familiar. Reacher couldn't figure out where he has seen her though. That's when his eyes moved to the background of the photo. A small child standing behind the mayor. It hit him like a ton of bricks. It was you. The child in the photo having the same scar as you that lines from your eyebrow to your hairline. You're the mayor's daughter? Reacher thought. It was all clicking in his mind. You were the one responsible for this. But... something still wasn't right. He was putting all the pieces together, but there was still a piece missing.

What was your motive? Why did you do it? Questions flooded Reacher's mind as he walked back into your office. Returning to his seat. His eyes lingering on you before he looked to the files. He didn't know what to do yet. He considered locking you in the cell right now, but he didn't have enough proof. And if you really are the one who did all this... will he be able to put you away? He's been in the town for almost a month now working with you and the station. He's grown partial to you. Captivated by you, even. There was something about you... your fierceness... your pretty eyes. It had Reacher longing. And he wasn't the only one feeling this way. You knew the second he walked into town he would be the death of you. That captivating smile and bluntness would get you into trouble. Once you got insight into how Reacher works, you knew he would figure you out. That he would know it was you.

And as you looked at him sitting across from you, you know that he knows now. It finally clicked for him. You're honestly shocked it took him this long. But now that he knows, you're not sure what to do. You thought about just telling him, but what would he do? How would he react? Would it hurt him? You couldn't stand the thought. The thought of him seeing you as a monster. You weren't sure why you cared so much about Reacher's opinion; you didn't care what anyone else thought of you. So why care about he thinks? You were hesitant and you hated it. As the night went on, neither of you said anything. But you both knew. You both thought about what to do.

Reacher tossed and turned in his hotel room. Completely restless. He was trying to find that missing piece, but he couldn't. Why? That was the question that played in his mind on repeat. He didn't know why. Why would you do it? It was starting to bother him too badly. With a sigh, he got out of bed, and he threw on his clothes. Walking out into the cold, rainy night. Walking to your house at 3 am. He didn't care how late it was or the fact that it was pouring down. He had to know. So, he marched up the steps and he banged on the door. The line between your eyebrows growing as you got out of bed and went to the door. When you opened it, the crease between your eyebrows deepened.

"Reacher? What are doing?" You slowly looked him up and down. His jeans a shade darker from the wetness, his shirt glued to him. His muscles showing through it. His hair dripping and his chin quivering. Fuck. He looked so good.

"Why did you do it?" He simply asked and you weren't the only one staring. Reacher's eyes glued to the oversized t-shirt, the outline of your nipples visible and the boxers that were barely visible. Fuck. You looked good.

"What?"

"Why did you do it?" He said more firmly.

"Did you walk here? You're going to end up sick." You moved to the side to let him in.

"Don't change the subject. Why did you do it?"

You sighed and stopped. Looking down. Not prepared for this conversation.

"I was wondering how long it was going to take you to figure it out." Now Reacher was confused.

"You knew I was going to find out?" You simply nodded and handed him a couple towels and a blanket.

"Yeah. Surprised you didn't realize sooner." You started to make a pot of coffee and Reacher hummed. Thinking.

"Why?" He asked again. You took a deep breath. Trying to prepare yourself.

"The mayor... he was my stepdad and when I was a kid... he used to do terrible things to my sister." You paused. "When I got older, I learned that half the men in town, especially my stepfather, were trafficking kids." Reacher's eyes widen as he realized.

"I tried to take it to court numerous times, but because the judge and lawyers were in on it, it didn't matter how much evidence and proof I had, they always dismissed it." Reacher nodded as he listened to you closely. It all made sense now.

"So..., that's why I did it, and I'll do it again." You broke the silence and you slide a cup of coffee over to him before you rested your hands on the counter and looked down.

Reacher took notice of it, and he stood up. Taking the quick step over to you. He gently placed his hand under your chin and tilted your head up so that you would look at him. "Is there anyone left?"

"Yeah... the chief. I think he's starting to suspect it's me." You spoke softly and held back a gasp as Reacher was suddenly so close and his cold hand was still holding your chin.

"Alright. We can take care of him tomorrow." He simply said and he let go of your chin. He still stood close though.

"What?" You grew confused and he simply repeated his words.

"We'll take care of him tomorrow."

You went to speak, but nothing came out. You went to argue with him and tell him that it's none of his business and he shouldn't get deeper into this than he already is, but you knew you couldn't fight him on this. He's too stubborn. He'll help rather you like it or not, so you don't push.

Instead, your eyes travel over his body. At his still soaking wet clothes that are stuck to him. Your eyes going to his muscles and lingering there. You realized you were staring and snapped yourself out of it. "I think I might have some clothes that will fit you. You can shower and get warmed up." You leaned off of the counter and started to walk down the hall. A smirk growing on his lips as he caught you staring. His eyes going to ass as you walked away. Then he quickly followed and watched as you searched for the clothes.

Now his turn to stare. His eyes stuck on your ass. His mind wondering off, but you quickly pulled him back to reality. "Here. These should work." You held them out to him, and he accepted them with a small smile and a soft thank you. He went into the bathroom and got into the shower. The scolding water hitting him. The tension in his muscles easing. His eyes fell closed and he let the water sooth him. When he opened his eyes, he looked down at his hard cock. With a groan of frustration, he let his head fall back. His mind continuing to wonder back to you. But not because of the case. Oh no. His mind kept going back to the image of you in those boxers. The outline of your breast in that shirt. You looked absolutely gorgeous to him. He wanted to jerk those clothes right off of you, but he knew he needed to hold back his thoughts. Although he wanted to bend you over the counter, he still felt the need to stay professional.

Even after solving everything, and being able to have you now, he still feels he should keep the relationship at a businesslike level. But you? You pace around your living room wondering if you should you just go join him in the shower or not. Over the past couple weeks, you've caught yourself staring and your thoughts wrapped up in a dirty fantasy about him. And after seeing him show up at your door in the rain and handle your confession so well, you can't stop the desire that is growing stronger. You let a frustrated groan out and you walked down the hall. You went to knock on the door, but before you could, the door was being opened and you were greeted by a shirtless Reacher. That's it.

You leaned up and captured him in a deep, heated kiss full of desperation. His body quickly relaxing and his strong arms wrapping around you. Lifting you up and carrying you back to your bedroom. His tongue gently brushing against your lips as he tried to deepen the kiss as he sat you down. Grabbing your shirt and pulling it over your head. His hands going to your breast. Gently massaging them. He laid you down on the bed. Kissing down your neck. His lips grazzing over your breast as he kissed your stomach. Kissing each and every scar, freckle and mark he could find until he stopped at your hips. Grabbing your boxers and pulling them down.

Greeted by your wet cunt. He hummed in amusement. "This wet already?" He teased and spoke in a confident tone. Then before you could say anything, he wrapped his lips around your clit. Gently sucking on it. A sharp gasp leaving your mouth as his tongue circled around it. Your slow breaths turning into heavy pants as his tongue kept working your clit. His movements slow and gentle. Making a chill run down your spine, your back arching and your legs shaking. His mouth on your sensitive clit felt so good. He was working you like no one else has before. Bringing you a pleasure you had no idea you could feel. It had you shaking. It had you wanting more. You needed more. Despite how good it felt and how you didn't want it to end, you grabbed his hair and pulled his face up. Moving your legs off of his shoulders and pulling him up so he stands in front of you. You raised up and started to kiss his abs. Your mouth traveling down to his v line. Gently kissing him.

You gripped his sweatpants and pulled them down. When his cock was free, you had to hold back a gasp. He chuckled at the shocked expression that you couldn't hide. "Will... it fit?" You said shyly and Reacher grabbed you by the chin. Pulling you up. "You can take it." He whispered in your ear, and he laid down on the bed. Pulling you down on top him. He gently kissed you. A kiss of reassurances. He carefully rubbed his cock through your folds. Putting the head at your entrance. Then he moved his hand away. Wanting you to take this at your own time. You slowly pushed down on his cock. Gasping as your walls stretched around him.

"There you go... that's it. Good girl." Reacher groaned as he watched as your cunt slowly took all of him. His hands holding your ass. You sat there for a moment to adjust to him, then you lifted your hips. Dropping back down. He bit his lip to hold his noise back. You noticed and pulled his lip out from his teeth, and he softly whimpered. "Don't start holding back from me now." He whimpered again when he heard your dirty words and felt your walls clenching around him. His eyes going down to your breast as they bounced with your bouncing hips on his cock. Your movements getting a steady pace that makes you and Reacher breathless. Yours and his moans growing louder and louder. He couldn't help himself when he let his hands move all over your body. Moving along your sides, your breast, your neck, your hair, over your back and down to your ass.

Gripping it. Helping guide you on his cock. As he admired you, he looked up at your closed eyes. Your head back in pleasure and your hands moving up your own body and squeezing your breast. He completely lost all bit of control he had left. He put an arm around you and with a swift move, he moved your body under him. Getting on top of you. He thrusted deep into you. The breath being pulled right out of your lungs. You dug your fingers into his shoulders and a loud moan slipped from your lips. Your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he thrusted deeply into you. It was passionate. It was sweet. It was slow. He made each thrust into you mean something. He made sure with each thrust that you knew how he cared for you. How long he wanted this. His groans getting louder and his thrust getting harder and faster. Your walls clenching around him and your nails dragging down his back as the new speed felt sensational.

You didn't even know he could make you feel even better, but he does. Your climax was on the edge. Struggling to hold it back. His climax creeping up on him as well. The volume in his groans increasing as he felt your climax release onto him. Driving him into his climax. Filling your cunt up with his seed. The results of yours and his pleasure dripping down onto the bed. The two of taking a moment to catch your breath. Once you did though, he gave you a grin and thrusted into you again. Round after round. He made you feel the best pleasure of your entire life all into the morning. The sun setting and lighting the room. His arms wrapped around your small body. Holding you close to him before you two have to finish what you started. The reason he came into this town. The reason he was brought to you.

[localkiss]

MY DADDY'S LOLLIPOP ♡

pairings: james sunderland x fem!reader

synopsis: You've been acting up ever since he got home, snuggling against him in the wrong way, watching a scary movie. And he decides that enough is enough, beginning to put you in your place. Teach you how to be a good girl again.

cw: MDNI, INCEST, DEAD DOVE, SLIGHT OOC JAMES, nipple play, unprotected p in v, creampies, oral (m receiving), guilt, mentions of mary, dirty talk, spanking, daddy kink, desperation, virginity loss, slight body worship, slight somno, pet names, manhandling, pregnancy kink, praise/degradation kink. lmk if i missed anything.

wc: 4.8k

masterlist & my ao3

thank you @bunnyclaire for proof reading <3! tags: @gettingsilly @withonly-sweetheart not sure who else 2 tag... also forgive me if there are some errors, fixing it in ao3 and then pasting it here is ass. </3

You hum your way around the house, clad in a nightgown and your underwear. It's too bad your dad couldn't make it back in time to start a binge fest of scary movies. It's not fun when you watch them alone, but you decide to do so anyway. 

  Picking out Scream, you push play. Snuggling up into your warm and thick blankets on the couch. With your snacks on your lap and your drink on the coffee table, you are all set! 

  Since you rewatch the same movies every year, you know the plot like the back of your hand. Even though you know it so well, you still jump at the scary parts and your heart thumps wildly. If your dad was here, he wouldn't stop teasing you for every little jump. 

  As the night goes on, you begin to nod off. With your hand in your bucket of candy and your head tipped back a fluffy pillow. You made it through at least three movies before getting too tired to continue the binge of movies. Groaning, you shift in your sleep. 

  The loud buzzing of your cell phone on the coffee table immediately wakes you up. Your heart leaps out of your chest as you frantically locate the source of the noise. The house is quiet and dark, except for the few noises from the fridge in the kitchen. Picking up your phone, you see it's your dad. 

  “Mm.. dad!” You croak out, rubbing your eyes. 

  “Hey honey. Just wanted to let you know I'll be home soon, okay? Make sure the front door is locked. Are you having fun watching the movies?” 

  Humming, you set the bowl of candy down on the table as you pad your way to the door. Double checking if you locked it or not. “I already locked it dad. I fell asleep watching one of them, it's just not the same without you. Hurry back,” you whine into the phone. 

  James sighs deeply, “Okay. See you soon.” He hangs up and you turn to flip the switch so there's light in the living room. Making you squint your eyes to see for a few moments. 

  Cozying back up in your spot, you put on The Nightmare Before Christmas. Perfect movie to fall asleep to. Pulling your blankets up over your shoulders, you begin to munch on your candy. 

  This time, you set down the candy as you feel yourself getting tired. Yawning, you snuggle your face into your pillow. Allowing your eyelids to droop and get heavy. The TV slowly begins to muffle out into background noise. 

  It doesn't even wake you up when your dad finally gets home thirty minutes later. Opening the door and finding you curled up, with the movie playing at a low volume. James sets down his bag on the table after locking the door and kicking his shoes off.

  Humming as he shuts the TV off, picking your body up carefully, with your blanket still wrapped around you. He pushes your door open and sets you down on your soft mattress. Adorned with the few stuffed animals he bought you or won for you. 

  Grunting, he begins to tuck you in. Quickly going back to grab your pillow and place it under your head. As soon as he deems you comfortable enough, he begins to walk away. 

  “Daddy…” 

  But you sleepily grab onto his arm, tugging him back to lay with you. You know, you're getting too old for your dad to hold you until you fall asleep, but that doesn't mean James won't not do it. Especially when you are trying to keep yourself awake for his sake. 

  “Sweetheart,” he starts, climbing into your bed behind you with a grunt. “I'm sorry for not being here with you on time. Forgive me, okay?” He presses a chaste kiss to your hairline and you nod a few times. 

  “Good.” James wraps his arms around you loosely. 

  Feeling the warmth of his chest press against your back just makes you melt. Nobody will ever top your dad. He's always going to be the best. 

  And you immediately knock out. He doesn't leave just yet, knowing that sometimes when he leaves, you wake back up. So, a lot of the times he ends up falling asleep next to you too. Resting his forehead against your shoulder. The rise and fall of your breaths and the soft mumbles lulls him to bed. 

  His arms instinctively flex and tighten around your middle, drawing you closer to him. It's the days like these where your mom's death gets to him. That damn disease taking her away from you both. Your dad pretends he's alright, that her death didn't take away from his life. Didn't take away the little joy of simply being there, alive, and able-bodied. 

  It doesn't help that you have the same sad eyes as your mother. Oh, no. Not one bit. Does it bother him? A little, but deep inside it festers into something else. Enjoying the fact you are becoming more like his late wife than a different person. Your own person. He just pushes those thoughts away because you are his baby girl. Not his dead wife. 

  Really gets him going sometimes when he sees you dress up all pretty in those skirts. Showing off your legs with your pantyhose and thigh high socks. Sometimes those skirts are a bit too short for him to feel comfortable with you being out and about in them. 

  He can't police you on what to wear and not to wear. What does he know about fashion? Nothing. Has worn the same MG65 Field Jacket for years. As long as it doesn't have holes in ‘em, he'll wear them to death. 

  Especially when you ask nicely for him to take you out to the mall or to simply go on a walk with you. Who goes on walks dressed like that? You do. 

  It doesn't click in his mind on why you choose those shoes when you know you've gotta walk a lot. Thinks they're cute anyways, blisters aside when you start bawling about your feet hurting. So, yes , daddy does carry his little girl around when she needs him to. And yes, you are spoiled. Probably a bit too much if you ask anyone else. 

  Hours later, you groan, stretching your body. Feeling your dad's body right up against you. Blinking, you squint, looking around the room. It's still dark out, drawing a large exhale out of you. Maybe you can start up the movie marathon with him again. 

  Turning around, you begin to shake your dad awake. “Dad, wake up. Wake up…” you grumble, hearing him breathe heavily like he's about to wake up.

  “Daddy, wake up!” Raising your voice and pushing him to lie down on his back. Climbing over his lap and sitting down, beginning to shake him with more force. All of that motion causes you to sort of bounce against his lap. 

  James's eyes open slightly, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. “Hmm.. baby? What's wrong?” Blinking and furrowing his eyebrows to see you. Breathing heavily as his body fully wakes up. 

  “Let's go watch our movies, please?” Holding yourself up by placing your hands on his chest. 

  His hands squeeze your hips as he opens and closes his mouth, thinking of what to say. All he can think about is how this sight of you sitting on his lap like this, makes his cock start to harden. The weight of your body, the feeling of your shapely ass and your flesh, it's all so stimulating. 

  Groaning, he closes his eyes. The fat of your hips and the way his fingers sink into you, makes him imagine you bouncing on his cock. Him holding and helping you keep steady as you work yourself on him. Crying out for daddy as you cream around his girth. 

  “Okay.. okay.” He nods quickly. 

  Leaning down, you kiss his cheek with a giggle. “Let's go!” Getting off of him and running out of your room, into the living room. The sound of your bare feet hitting the hardwood echoes throughout the house. 

  James gets up, “I'll be right there honey. Let me change into something more comfortable.” Walking over to his room, closing the door and stripping down. Throwing his clothes into the laundry basket, he opens the door to his walk-in closet. Stepping into his plaid pajama pants and tugging on a random shirt. 

  Sighing, he looks down at his little friend. “Oh for god's sake,” shifting it around so it isn't visible anymore. Praying it goes away soon. It would be so embarrassing for you to notice it and put two and two together. 

  He isn't ready to tackle that kind of stuff yet. James walks out of his room and makes his way to where you are at. Finding you all curled up and putting another classic movie on. 

  “Are you cold honey? I can go and get your blanket and we can share it, if you want.” 

  “I'm okay. I can just cuddle up to you,” giggling, patting the cushion behind you. “Come sit here.” 

  James slips behind you, trying to keep some distance between your ass and his naughty not-so-little friend down there. While watching the movie, his arms swoop around you as you slouch against his chest. Feeling you jump at the sudden noises, he has to stifle his laugh. So cute, he thinks. 

  Towards the end of the movie, you wiggle to be snug against his chest. The warmth transferring to your back. Sitting up and repositioning your head to be comfy. Holding onto his left arm, feeling the bit of muscle he has. 

  He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. And the movie ends, you scramble to switch to a different movie. Feeling your ass touching his groin, so.. so.. sooo snugly. Looking down, he watches the way his cock kicks against the confines of his pajama pants, begging to be freed. Sweat begins to form on his scalp, beading soft droplets around his hairline. It's okay, it's okay James.. just—just relax. He sighs, placing his hand on your knee, the other one still wrapped around your waist. 

  Your skin runs hot and tingly as soon as your dad’s hand is on your knee. Wanting to squeeze your legs shut, feeling your cunt throb and ache. Remembering the times you have accidentally seen him touching himself. How he spat on it, just to tug it faster. The soft moans and groans he let out, being careful not to draw your attention with the volume. At that point, you started to tiptoe back to your room to finger yourself. Covering your mouth with your free hand, as humiliation flooded your veins. 

  But, you keep still, knowing and feeling his hard-on against your back. Wanting to appear as innocent as possible, as you make him horny. You push back, wiggling like you are resituating yourself. Grinding, catching the way his hands and arms flex, inciting a smirk out of you. Halting your movements, you turn your head, pressing your lips against his cheek, near the corner of  his lips. 

  And he dips down and kisses your temple. You titter and lower your chin to your collarbones, feeling his fingers start creeping their way towards your side. Knowing he’s about to start tickling you. 

  The movie is simple background noise, drowning out the creaks of the house. He laughs behind you, warm breath tickling your ear. Then, his hands start attacking your ribs and armpit, erupting a guffaw. 

  “Dad, stopp!” Squirming, you push down, trying to get away from his hands and eventually your head lays right next to his bulge. Kicking your feet, you fail to get his hands off of you. Laughing so hard, your cheeks are stained a cherry tomato red, and you're beginning to sweat. 

  Without even thinking about it, you turn and press your face just a few centimeters away from his no-no zone. Just wanting to hide yourself away from his tickling fingers. His hips jumped up a centimeter or two. A puff of warm air exhales from your mouth has James hissing faintly. 

  Hearing him react to where your face is located, you smile mischievously. Deciding to take it up a notch, see how he acts. Relocating yourself on his stiff member, nuzzling into it.

  “What is this, dad?” Your voice is muffled, vibrating against him. “Is it candy?” Soft and innocent as you can be. 

  “Oh,” he twitches against you, “uh… it-it’s nothing special, honey.”

  “You're lying, I know you're hiding candy away from me dad! I want to see what kind it is,” you shift onto your haunches, furrowing your eyebrows and pursing your lips. Grabbing the waistband of his pants and boxers, tugging it down impatiently. Cunt throbbing and leaking slick into the gussets of your panties. 

  And his dick springs out, standing straight to your attention. Before you could do anything, James grabs your hands and yanks you over his leg as he situates himself to sit up properly. Feet laying flat against the floor. 

  Without a warning, he hikes up your nightgown and gropes your backside. Pulling a cheek and spreading you open, just to let it go and smack your ass. Squealing, you writhe on his lap, feeling tears start to flood your eyesight. 

  “Bad girl,” he scolds you, “I don't remember teaching you how to be a slut. But since you want to see it so bad, I'll teach you how to be a good girl again. Spank you over and over again until you've learned your lesson.” His rough hands hit against each cheek until you are full on sobbing. 

  “Got that, baby?” James rubs his hands across, soothing your sensitive and raw skin. Welts of his hand prints are all across them, making him bite his lip at the sight. “Say, ‘yes daddy' .”

  “Mm.. y-yes daddy,” you whimper out. 

  “Good girl, now get on your knees and take that nightgown off, sweetheart.” Patting the back of your thighs as a signal. 

  You pry yourself off of him, legs wobbly as you stand between his legs, sliding off your nightgown, leaving you in your red cotton panties. Holding onto him as you get on your knees. Looking up at your dad, with a pink tear stained face. 

  Leaning down, he presses a kiss to your forehead, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “Such a good girl,” he hums, stroking your hair. “Now open that filthy mouth for me.” 

  Opening your mouth, staring into his clouded eyes, waiting for your next command. Hands on his thighs, trying not to look down at his lap. 

  “Now, baby, daddy's going to feed you what you thought was candy. Okay?” His right hand pulling away from your head and giving his cock a few strokes. Watching you nod and blink slowly at him. Slowly, he guides his tip into your mouth, groaning at the feeling of your hot, wet mouth on him. 

  “Suck on it like a lollipop,” James’s left hand gently holds your hair back. “Yeah.. just like that, princess. Just like that.” Loving the way you suckle on the tip, going down with a slow pace. 

  You close your eyes, the weight of his fat dick is heavy on your tongue. Heavy, but perfect. The taste is salty and bitter, with a hint of sourness. Moaning around his girth at the praise, you decide to try and take him deeper. Wanting—no—needing to hear your dad praise you in that sweet tone. Nails digging into his plaid pajama pants, you gag loudly, the tip hitting the back of your throat. Jerking your head back to cough and catch your breath.

  “Good job baby, daddy's so proud of you. Who knew you could take it like a champ?” Tugging your hair back to make you look at him, he ravages your lips, sliding his tongue into your wet cavern. Kissing you until your lips are swollen. With each and every whine, his manhood twitches. 

  He knows he shouldn’t be thinking about Mary at a time like this, but god, your lips felt the exact same as his wife’s. Shouldn’t even be comparing you to your mom. If anything, it makes the dark, fucked up part of his mind have the need to ruin you in a way a daddy mustn't do to his offspring. You are his daughter, he knows he would treat you better than any other guy would. You are his princess, the apple of his eye, his whole world that he is clutching onto with every fiber of his being. 

  Your hands grab onto his shoulders, arching your back and pressing yourself towards him and the cushions. “Dad,” you swallow down his spit, heaving after an intense make out session. “Please touch me daddy, please.” Saliva dripping down to your chin, mixed in with his precum, and blown out “fuck me” eyes are currently being ingrained into James’s psyche. 

  Groaning, his hands being to traverse over your chest, taking his time to truly admire you. Eyeing you up and down, he mumbles praises, as his eyebrows pinch upwards slightly. “Stand up for me,” giving your tit a squeeze, his eyes following the movements of your body. Resting at your waist, he plants kisses across your sternum. Teasing you into thinking that he’s going to immediately latch onto your nipples. 

  “Where do you want my hands honey? Show daddy where you need him the most.” Making his way to your breast, deliberately avoiding your areolas. Worrying your skin as he flickers his gaze from your face, down to your chest. 

  Grasping him, leading them towards your underwear. “Right here daddy,” your voice is soft and airy, giving the illusion that you are innocent. When in fact, you are the complete opposite of it. It's sort of like a roleplaying thing for you.

  James finally starts to lick and suckle on your stiff peak, switching between the two until they are puffy and red. Dancing around the waistband, groaning when you tug on his hair. “So impatient, baby,” he grips the fat of your hips, moving you closer to him. “Sit on daddy's lap.” 

  You do as he says. The wet, lukewarm saliva and cum mixture paints an inch or two of your skin. Shivering as his breath fans over your sensitive and wet nipples. Perching like a pretty princess on his lap, holding onto daddy to seek comfort. To retain all of his love, care, and attention. 

  Swiveling your hips down, wanting so badly to reach in-between the space of your bodies, and lay his cock down. “Dad,” you gulped, “touch me please. Please, please, please—” Trailing off into a mewl. Eyes fluttering into his tired green eyes. 

  Your dad's thumb presses against your mound, before cupping it. Letting out a low moan at how wet you are. Just for him. Because of him. And that inflates his ego and makes his heart swell up with pride. Mary never let him do anything like this to her. Only wanting to make love, slow and soft. 

  His middle finger presses against your slit, spreading your lips with the fabric. Taking in how chubby your pussy is. Pulling the waistband up, forming an exaggerated camel toe. “You like how I'm touching you, hm?” 

  Whining, you rock your hips down once his hand returns to it's spot. Looking down at what he's doing to your cunt, makes you clench down on nothing. James's tired, glossed over eyes flicker back and forth from your face and to his hand. His other one is holding you up, splayed across your lower back. 

  “So pretty,” he mumbles against your skin, leaving kisses where your ribcage is splitting into two. Sighing, he slips the damp fabric to the side and leans back. Biting his lip once he sees the clear strings of slick connecting you to the garment. The sight of your naked body over his lap, wet for him, is what really snaps this into reality for him. 

  Bashfulness is painted all over you as your thighs quiver against your dad's. Making yourself smaller and begin to cover up from instinct. James doesn't stop you as he presses his thumb to your wet folds, groaning and bucking up, drawing a gasp from you. Rubbing circles into your clit with ease, adding pressure with each swipe. 

  “Mmph, dad, daddy, daddy, dad! Oh please…” 

  Hearing your whines and moans bouncing off the walls and into his ears, makes it feel like it's a song. A song only he can hear and play. With the instrument being your body. 

  “You ready?” James pats your glistening lips softly. The squelching fills the silence as you reel your mind back into place. 

  “Yes, yes, yes, ‘m ready,” you dip down and press your lips frantically upon his own. Slipping your tongue in and basking in the fuzzy, warm feeling. Letting go of your embarrassment, you tangle your fingers into his hair. Hips twitching forward as he notches the blushing head against your opening. Easing you into the feeling of something bigger than your fingers entering you. 

  Suckling on your tongue, he gently pushes you down on him. Not wanting to hurt you and make you cry out like that. If you're going to be crying, it better be because daddy's making you feel real good. “You okay? Does it hurt, baby?” He's massaging your hips, trembling with desperation. Absolutely needing to pound that tight hole into the ground. 

  Your mouth is open in a silent moan, tugging on the strands that  are in his scalp. “Mhm.. hurts a little bit,” grinding down, taking more in at your pace. Until he's nestled deep into your wet pussy, grazing the womb. Jumping at the sensitivity. 

  Shallowly, James thrusts up into you. Placing his forehead on your collarbones. Groaning out sweet little praises, telling you how brave you are for taking his dick. Anything and everything coming out of his mouth, with the thought of what sounds the dirtiest and loving things to say. The need of fulfilling your expectations of how good and how sexy it all is. 

  He hasn't had sex in awhile, the only thing he remembers is his fist. But that doesn't even compare to you, at all. And you begin to chase the fullness he provides you. Humping down into his thighs, pussy so wet it's running down to his balls. 

  “Such a good girl,” he moans, all breathy. Leaving your hips to play with your chest. Tweaking your puffy nipples and squeezing the fat of them, before he puts his mouth into play. “Taking daddy so deep, making a whole mess out of yourself. Right?”

  Keening, you push your chest further into his face. His other hand that isn't preoccupied goes down to the swell of your ass and slaps it. Pulling away and pressing his thumb down on your clit. Feeling you flutter around his girth and watching your eyes roll into the back of your head. 

  “Dad, please—more!” Bumping your nose into his forehead, breath all hot and fanning across his skin. Adding more sweat and tension to the palpitating air. Your panties sticking uncomfortably to your skin. Creating an absolute puddle on his lap. Drenching his pajama pants with your arousal. 

  Being greedy in the way he is treating you with such care and love, digging your nails deep into his shirt. Bouncing up and down like you own his cock. Like a slutty little porn star making incest videos. If you were to post it on there, nobody would bat an eye, thinking you are lovers or co-stars. 

  “Shit, baby,” he grunts, pulling you down and making you take it. Keeping the pace he wants to go at. Sloppy and irregular, threatening to spill deep inside of you. “Can I cum inside of you please? Let daddy fill you up, please honey.” Whining at how sensitive he is becoming. He isn’t as energetic as he used to be. Can’t last too long.

  “Yes, yes, yes!” Opening your eyes straight away, you gape into his eyes. Moaning into his mouth, squeezing him tighter than ever before. The stuttering of his thrusts and his thumb rubbing your clit so diligently, pulls you over the edge. Soon after, James follows suit, pumping you to the brim as you ride out your orgasm. 

  “Daddy!” You scream out, holding onto him for dear life. Creaming all around him, squeezing his fat dick for all he's worth.

  “So beautiful,” groping your thighs as you tremble atop. Clinging to daddy as always. “Sweetheart, hold on. If you give me a few minutes, we… we can keep going.” Pressing soft kisses on your cheekbones, dragging his tongue down to that soft spot. The one where you squeal and get extremely ticklish. Adoring how your heartbeat rises up dramatically when he sucks on it like a Werther’s Original.

  And you stay nestled on his softening cock, rope after rope of his spend shooting up into your womb. Feeling so stuffed, you're sure your belly is protruding just a bit. The milky liquid bubbling out of you and pooling on his pelvis.

  “Dad,” you whimper, rolling your hips down. “Are you going to marry me when I get pregnant?” Tucking your face underneath his jaw. The jumps of his manhood and his hips as you ask that question, forces soft noises to exhale from your throat. 

  Petting your hips, he groans lowly into your ear. “I- I don’t know, hun.” Digging his nails harder into your skin, too pussy whipped to even be in the correct state of mind. “Would you want me to?” Whispering against your neck, sucking small hickeys to ease the sensitivity of you wiggling around on his length. 

  “Uhuh, want to stay with daddy forever,” mindlessly bouncing, ignoring the whimpers coming out of his puffy kissed bruised lips. “Please? Want you s’bad dad, pump me so full that I can’t walk.” And it’s flooding his mind of you swollen with his babies, being the perfect mommy as he spoils you with love and attention. Taking care of your every need, carrying you around because his baby girl deserves it. He deserves to have a proper wife, proper family. A wife who won’t catch a damn disease. 

  The squeezing of your gummy walls, is wringing another orgasm out of him. In a flash, he pounces on you, pushing you flat on the cushions. Folding you in half as he begins to fuck you harder and faster than before. Plap, plap, plap, his balls hitting your ass as you begin to claw at him. 

  Ignoring your cries, he humps you with the intention of fulfilling his fantasy. One that Mary could never begin to achieve. Breath coming out fast, gusting across you. Keeping his hands underneath your knees, pinning you down with his weight. Eyes trained on the faces you’re making, his pelvis making contact with your clit, so perfectly. “Y’gonna take all of dad’s cum? Yeah?” Edging you on, moaning into the kiss he drives. All teeth and spit. 

  Messy enough to coerce another toe curling orgasm, but this time it’s slow and syrupy. Leaving you cockdrunk and pliable to his every need and want. Your thighs squish against his neck, creaming so much it’s forming a ring at the base of his cock. Cunt too tight, about to cut the blood flow, causing him to feel lightheaded. 

  Being a babbly cutie beneath him, he whispers out some “Yeah?”, “You like that?”, “That right, baby?”. Watching you come to tears, sobbing for daddy. Head dangling around identical to the way a lasso whips around, no thought behind those eyes. Closing his eyes tightly to hold onto the pleasure he is receiving from your wet pussy. Already addicted to it, deciding he’s going to make some father-daughter time happen every single day. Take you out shopping, just to pound you in the dressing room. Buying all the clothes that he humped you in. 

  “Ohh… I’m going to cum,” he growls, his hips faltering. “Mhmm… god, I’m cumming in my daughter’s wet hole. Fuck, Mary forgive me, please.” Trailing off into a high pitched mewl, dropping down on you. Gently fucking his cum deeper into that womb, painting your insides white. 

  As it starts drooling out, he stays put. All that exercise really winded him out. “Honey, dad really loves you.” Planting sweaty kisses across your cheeks. Faintly hearing a response back. “Let’s go to sleep. Can’t have you sleeping out here, daddy will keep you warm all night long in his bed.” 

  Leaning back on his haunches, he pulls out. Fluttering cunt oozing out his spend, sheer white plastered everywhere in your nether region. His chest swells up with satisfaction, knowing that he was the first and last one to dump his load into that needy cunt. Picking you up and making his way to the master bedroom. 

[pagesfromthevoid]

can we get bob's internal thoughts the first time he sees the teacher?

Oh HELL YES you can! I’m just —I’ll rewrite that scene from Bob’s POV. Idk how else to do it lol

He’s vaguely aware of Hangman and Phoenix talking to someone —he just assumes it’s a student. The kid in front of him is asking genuine questions about the systems of the plane, and Bob loves explaining this kind of stuff to anyone that’ll listen.

When Phoenix suddenly elbows him, he stands up straight and immediately turns his attention to the three people staring at him. His breath catches, and he feels his cheeks heating up as he sets the tablet down. He’d assumed it was a student talking to his colleagues; but the pretty smile that greets him makes his heart skip a beat.

He immediately extends his hand to her. “I’m sorry about that, ma’am,” he offers, though he’s trying to catch a glimpse of her badge. “Lieutenant Robert Floyd —though most people just call me Bob.”

The smile she gives him is…brilliant. Beautiful. And Bob has to take a moment to remember the words he’s going to say next when she takes his hand. And when she says her name, Bob wants to burn it into his memory.

“It’s a pleasure –like I was saying, I just wanted to thank you guys for coming out and doing this. Future Fest is our big thing and the kids really love it. Having you guys join us is a big deal.”

“Oh, I love doing stuff like this,” he reassures, and there’s a moment where he almost doesn’t let go of her hand. But he does, because that’s…probably weird. Is it weird to flirt with someone at a school event? She’s a teacher, and he doesn’t see a wedding ring.

He could remedy that.

Then he feels himself blushing at that thought, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“So…what does a weapons system officer do, Lieutenant Floyd?”

Hangman complains in the background but Bob doesn’t care one bit, taking up his tablet again. He loves explaining his work, and she’s staring up at him like she genuinely wants to know. She even gets a bit closer to him, zooming in on his screen, as he points out various items and explains his role on missions. Maybe he’s too caught up, because she seems to just be staring at him now. But Bob doesn’t mind one bit, honestly.

“So you’re in charge then?”

He chuckles a bit, imagining being in charge of any of it. “Like I said, it depends on the mission.”

She’s about to say something else, and he’s about to definitely interrupt her and ask for her number, when there’s giggling and shouting from a few feet away.

“Ooh, Miss! Get it!”

Bob immediately flushes, looking away. She’s turning to the students like she’s going to tear them a new one. Calling one of the girls a menace, she turns back to him with a sheepish smile.

“I’m sorry about that, Lieutenant Floyd. You’ll have to excuse me —I need to go remind the kids that they can’t be unhinged in mixes company.”

Bob can’t help but laugh at this, looking down at her in curiosity. She’s got a grin on her face too. “Only in mixed company?”

“I keep a running list of all the things they say in class all year,” she offers with a soft laugh. And Bob wants to hear that laugh again. Over and over. But he’s also acutely aware that Hangman and Phoenix are watching —same with high schoolers.

“I’d love to see it,” he admits, though he realizes it comes off more flirty than serious.

But she picks up a business card from the table, looking it over for a moment before holding it up. “This your cell phone or your work phone?”

He stammers, and words suddenly do not want to come out of his mouth. So he just takes out a pen and scribbles his number on the back of the card. Bob swallows hard and hands it back, a timid smile playing at his lips.

“I’ll send you a few when I go to lunch, then you can decide if you want the whole list.”

“Sounds great, Miss.”

She walks away, hands behind her back, and Bob is watching as her kids surround her, giggling. Hangman grabs his shoulder and shakes him some, but Bob is too distracted by what just happened.

Then he decides he’s gotta ask her out.

[universefcb]

hii! Do you mind doing some that reader pretends to break up with Pedri, just to see his reaction, and then they get all fluffy, thank you!

↬❥ Love test

Pedri Gonzalez x Reader!fem

Synopsis: You decide to play a prank on him by telling him you want to break up, just to see his reaction.

a/n: I'M NOT GOING TO SCHOOL TODAY KAKAKAKAKAK

REQUESTED

warnings: no

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

The sun was beginning to set in Barcelona, painting the sky with orange and pink hues. Pedri’s apartment was silent, except for the soft sound of the television in the background. He was sitting on the couch, absentmindedly scrolling through his cell phone, until his girlfriend, you, walked into the room with a strange expression.

“Honey, we need to talk.” His voice was low, almost hesitant.

He looked up from his phone immediately, frowning. “What is it, my love?”

You sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. You had just planned to test him, see his reaction, but now that you were here, it seemed too cruel. Still, you decided to go ahead.

“I've been thinking a lot and... I don't think it's working out between us anymore.” His voice was firm, but inside, his heart was beating fast.

Pedri’s cell phone fell to the floor with a thud. His dark eyes widened, and for a moment he said nothing. He just blinked, as if trying to understand what you had just said.

“What do you mean?” Her voice was shaky. “We’re okay, aren’t we? Did I do something wrong?”

You bit your lip, fighting the urge to smile. He looked so desperate. You hadn’t meant to bring him to the brink of tears, but… maybe a little bit would be fun.

“I don’t know, Pedri. I think we’re just not on the same page anymore.” You looked away, feigning sadness.

He ran his hands through his hair, getting up from the couch with a heavy sigh. His eyes were shining, as if he was holding back tears. “Please don’t do this to me. I can’t live without you. If there’s something wrong, tell me, I can change it!”

Now, you felt a pang in your heart. Maybe you had been too hard on him. He looked genuinely broken, and that wasn't fair.

You approached slowly, holding his hands, which were shaking slightly. “Pedri…”

He looked up, his eyes filled with tears. “You still love me, right? Please tell me you love me. I don’t know what I would do without you. I’ll give you everything, anything you want, but you won’t let me.”

That was the last straw. You burst into a sweet laugh, hugging him tightly.

“Oh, my love! I was joking! I would never break up with you, I just wanted to see your reaction!”

He froze in her arms. Then he pulled away a little to look into her eyes.

“Wait... WHAT?!”

You laughed even harder, holding his face between your hands. “I wanted to see how much you love me. And you passed the test, my dramatic.”

Pedri let out a sigh of relief, but then pouted, crossing his arms. “That was cruel. You almost killed me with so much suffering!”

You smiled and kissed his nose. “But now I can make up for it…”

He pretended to think, before smirking. “Hm... I want lots of kisses. And a cuddle while I watch my game.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed. “It’s okay, my sweetheart.”

He smiled in satisfaction before pulling her into a passionate kiss.

In the end, you didn't need a test to know how much he loved you. But it was nice to see that Pedri was willing to fight for you at any cost. And now, you would spoil him to make up for it.

After all, he deserved it.

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @p4uul0vr @nngkay @meganesanchez @bymerinott @htpssgavi @luvvpedri @joaosnovia @moonvr ( If you want to be added, let me know!)

[ogviceversa]

Head Swap/NBM Shorts

My Head Can Be The Ball

“Bro! If we need a ball, I got us!,” says Brad with his detached head laying on his lap.

“Dudddeeeee!!!! That’s so funny! Your heads perfect!,” says his friend Kaleb.

The boys grab Brad’s head and carry it outside to head to the practice field with them.

Meanwhile, Kaleb’s brother Jared comes downstairs and shocked to see Brad’s headless body just hanging out.

Now Jared has always found his brother’s jock friends to be hot! And when he peaked out of the window and saw them carrying off a head in a helmet into Kaleb’s truck… Jared felt excitement knowing it was just him and Brad’s sexy body left behind.

So he grabbed brads and pulled him up out of the chair and said, “you’re coming with me.”

Jared laid Brad’s body back in bed and stripped him down. He picked up Brad’s smell jock foot and placed in his face. He runs his hands up brads thighs until he was met with his cock and balls. He starts licking and kissing the semi hard dick. He played with his junk until he knew that brads body was close. Only to stop right before he comes edging Brad’s now very horny body…

Jared thought to himself, ‘God they could be hours before they get back… this maybe the best day of my life.’

Meanwhile the game started and Brad could feel what Jared was doing to his body… At first he thought about saying something to Kaleb but damn Jared soft lips feel way to good!

So Brad got to enjoy being thrown around while also getting a BJ. Talk about some good head!

My Body’s in Jail?

Tommy:

Shit! This was supposed to be something goofy and fun my brothers bet me to do!

That thought it would be funny if I ran around the stadium naked with this stupid sign! So I thought it would decrease the chances of my identity being caught if I did it headless just in case a camera can see me.

But what I wasn’t prepared for was my body being arrested!!!

I don’t even know what to do now… I mean one of my bros could take me to jail and I can turn myself in but known of them want to get in trouble!

And the crazy part is… I can somebody toying with my cock! Is my body in a cell with someone? Is an officer playing with my goods?!?! FUCk!!!!

Just Through Vacay

Justin:

Wow this is such a weird trip, I’m not sure why my brother Daniel and I agreed to doing a three way head swap with our dad but I’m kinda loving it!

I’m the youngest and now I have Daniel’s body. Daniel has muscles, he’s taller than me, and his junk is wayyyy bigger than mine. While Daniel has our dad’s body and dad has mine. I think I lucked out the most. I mean dad’s body might have been cool but I’ll take Daniel’s abs over dad’s beer gut any day!

And the crazy part is a bunch of guys have started to take notice of me. Do you think it would be bad if I hooked up with Danny’s body? I mean I’ve jerked off enough this week with it.

And he’s been at the tiki bar every night so he might not notice if I’m gone.

What The F*ck Robby???

Justin:

You know, I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to tell my friend Robby that my body builder uncle’s headless body is at my house right now while his head is out of town. Robby is staying the night with me while I’m watching my uncle’s place and told him to not go into his room.

But then u went to go take a shower and I come back to the guest room I’m staying in, still wrapped in my towl. As I swung open the door, I find Robby— laying in bed with his head attached to my uncle’s body.

“Sorry Justin! But I just couldn’t resist!”

“Dude!! I told you my uncles body is off limits!!”

“But he’s so freaking hot!!! Look These muscles! His dick… ITS HUGEEE!!”

“Robby! Take his body off right now! Side where I even is your body?”

He gestures to the corner of the room and I see his headless body just standing completely naked.

“Holy shit! Your body… it’s naked and you have a boner…” my eyes can’t look away at Robby’s junk.

“I know, I told it to go stand in the corner so I can get a background show while I play with your uncles junk but you’re trying to ruin my fun!”

You know, I’ve always wanted to fool around with Robby. Especially right now seeing his headless bod all exposed… fuck!

“You know what, I’ll make a deal with you. You keep my uncles body for the weekend and your body is mine to enjoy this weekend. Sound fair?”

“Fuck yeah! I always knew you had the hots for me Justin. Too bad I’m in to big muscle daddy’s and not cute twinks. But you can do whatever you want with it. I’ll be here having my fun!”

“Bet!”

I grab Robby’s headless bodies hand. “Follow me sexy,” I say to him.

“Can you bring it back in a couple of hours, I wanna feel your uncles dick inside of my hole.”

“Sure but be prepared to be swore because I’m wilding out with it.”

“Ugh fine!”

[thequeenofneverland1]

Elijah Mikaelson////Eclipsed Emotions

Anonymous request: Hi could I request a Elijah Mikaelson and Gilbert!Reader (bf/gf)

Where the reader is a vampire and is Elena's oldest sister. She finds out that her family has died so she turns off her humanity and kills people for fun but her boyfriend Elijah (s2) gets very worried about her so he goes to the gang and asks them to help him find his gf before things gets worse. They go out and look for her until they find her about the kill an innocent person. "Baby!!! What are you doing!!" Elijah shouts at her which causes the reader to stop and look round to see Damon, Elijah, Stefan, Elena and Bonnie standing there looking at her worryingly.”How did you find me??" She asks angry before she could attack them Bonnie does a spell which causes the reader to pass out but Elijah catches her before she collides with the fall then carries her back to the Salvatore house and placed her gently on the bed in the cell and waits outside before she wakes up and tries to get her humanity back.You can add the rest

Thank u

Ps. I hope this isn't to confusing for you

(She has red streaks in her hair)

Warnings: Grief and Loss, Violence, Dark Themes, Character death, Abuse, Vampire Lore, Mature Content

You’re helping your Aunt Jenna prepare dinner—chopping vegetables while she stirs something on the stove. The kitchen smells like rosemary and garlic, and there’s a comforting hum of music playing in the background. You’re both in your aprons, bumping elbows playfully as you move around the kitchen.

Suddenly, Elena walks in, phone in hand and a hopeful smile on her face.

“Hey,” she says, leaning against the counter. “Is it okay if I hang out with Bonnie and Caroline after dinner?”

You glance up from your cutting board, nodding. “Yeah, that’s fine with me.”

Jenna, without missing a beat, also says, “Sure, sweetie.”

Then, slowly, you and Jenna turn your heads at the same time and stare at each other.

“She was talking to me,” Jenna says, raising an eyebrow, a hint of smugness in her voice.

Your jaw drops slightly as you wipe your hands on a dish towel. “Nooo, Auntie. She was talking to me.”

Jenna puts a hand on her hip. “I’m the adult in the house. I think she knows who she needs permission from.”

You scoff dramatically. “I’m her older sister, thank you very much. Which means I’m practically her second mom.”

“Practically doesn’t count,” Jenna says, rolling her eyes. “I actually pay the bills here.”

You gasp. “Wow. You went there? Really? We’re pulling out financial receipts now?”

Jenna smirks. “Don’t test me, I’ve got spreadsheets.”

Elena groans from the corner. “Oh my god, both of you yes, I asked both of you. Can I please go?”

You and Jenna look at each other again, this time laughing.

You put an arm around Elena’s shoulder. “Yeah, go. Have fun. But if you stay out too late, I’m calling Bonnie’s mom.”

“And I’m texting Caroline’s,” Jenna adds with a grin.

Elena just rolls her eyes and walks away, muttering, “You two are literally the same person.”

You and Jenna glance at each other again, then say at the exact same time, “No.”

And then burst into laughter.

You and Aunt Jenna are standing at the sink together, shoulder to shoulder, sleeves rolled up as the warm water runs and the scent of lemon soap fills the air. The clinking of dishes and soft hum of crickets through the open window make the moment feel cozy, almost like the old days before everything got complicated.

Jenna hands you a soapy plate, and you rinse it off, placing it in the drying rack. There’s a peaceful silence for a few minutes before she speaks.

“So…” she says casually, but there’s a knowing glint in her eye, “how’s your relationship going with Elijah?”

You glance at her with a soft smile, a faint blush rising to your cheeks as you rinse off the next dish. “It’s going good,” you say honestly. “He’s… he’s really sweet. A complete gentleman. Despite him being a Mikaelson, I can’t hate him or his family. I’ve tried, trust me.” You let out a breathy chuckle. “But they’re the ones that saved my life, Jenna. I would’ve been dead if they hadn’t been there.”

Jenna stops scrubbing for a moment and looks over at you, her smile tinged with both relief and guilt. “I’m glad that he’s treating you well,” she says quietly. “That’s always been my main concern your happiness, your safety. I mean… I can’t lie, it’s still weird for me sometimes. The whole vampire thing. And part of me—” she swallows hard, “part of me can’t help but blame myself.”

You stop rinsing and look at her, confused. “Blame yourself?”

She nods slowly. “Yeah. I was supposed to protect you. I was supposed to make sure nothing happened to you and Elena. I didn’t see it coming. I didn’t know the world we were walking into when we moved here. And then… it just happened so fast. You turned. And I couldn’t stop it. I wasn’t enough.”

You frown, stepping closer to her and wiping your hands on a towel. “Jenna, no. Don’t do that to yourself. None of us were prepared for what this town had hidden underneath. You were thrown into all of it just like we were. But you still stepped up. You stayed. You fought for us. You loved us.” Your voice softens. “And honestly, if I hadn’t turned… I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have met Elijah. I wouldn’t have found this new part of myself.”

Jenna looks down at the sink, lips pressed together, emotions swimming in her eyes.

“I know it’s not the life you imagined for me,” you continue gently. “But… it’s my life now. And weirdly enough, I’m okay with that. Elijah makes it easier. He reminds me I can still have love, even with all the darkness that comes with what we are.”

Jenna finally smiles again, this time fuller, more sincere. “You really love him, don’t you?”

You nod, heart full. “I do. He sees me not just the vampire part. Me.”

Jenna reaches out and cups your cheek, her thumb brushing a small bit of soap from your face. “Then that’s all I care about. Not that he’s a Mikaelson. Not that you’ve changed. Just that you’re still you… and you’re loved.”

You smile, eyes glistening, and whisper, “Thanks, Auntie.”

She grins. “Now, if he ever breaks your heart… I will stake him. Just so we’re clear.”

You laugh out loud. “Noted. I’ll warn him.”

You’re standing in front of the bathroom mirror, a towel draped over your shoulders, your hair parted in uneven sections, and a box of red hair dye sitting open on the counter. You’re squinting in concentration, trying to paint the strands evenly with the little brush it came with, but it’s already looking like a crime scene. There’s dye on the sink, some on your ear, and even a red streak suspiciously close to your jawline.

You’re halfway through your second section when Aunt Jenna appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed and an amused smirk on her face.

“What in the world are you doing?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

You freeze for a second, then glance at her through the mirror, your expression sheepish but determined. “Trying to do red streaks in my hair,” you reply, holding up the dye brush like it’s a magic wand.

Jenna walks in, surveying the chaos red stains splattered on the counter, gloves thrown carelessly to the side, and one section of your hair looking more pink than red. She stares for a beat, then lifts an eyebrow again. “Uh-huh. And are you also trying to dye your neck, both elbows, and my brand new white walls in the process?”

You look down and gasp when you notice a faint red handprint on the cabinet. “Oops.”

Jenna lets out a laugh and shakes her head. “Move over, Picasso. Let me help you before you turn this bathroom into a murder scene.”

You groan playfully but make space for her. “I was doing okay!”

She grabs a pair of gloves and clips your hair up in cleaner sections. “No offense, but your ‘okay’ was about five minutes away from dyeing the dog if he walked past you.”

You both laugh as she starts applying the dye more precisely. Her hands are steady and practiced, and you can’t help but smile, watching her through the mirror.

“You know,” she says while brushing another section, “red’s a bold choice. Trying to send a message?”

You shrug. “Maybe. I just wanted to feel something different. Be a little edgier.”

Jenna smirks. “Well, mission accomplished. Just don’t go full vampire rebel chic and start piercing everything next.”

You giggle. “No promises.”

She finishes up and wraps the dyed sections in foil, wiping a stray smudge from your forehead. “There. Now just sit still and don’t touch anything red unless you want it to stay that way.”

You nod, then glance over at the bathroom door. “Should we tell Elena not to freak out when she sees me with red streaks?”

Jenna grins. “Let’s not, and just enjoy the reaction.”

You both burst into laughter, and as the dye sets, it feels less like a makeover and more like a memory you’ll always keep.

The next morning, the house is quiet sunlight pours through the kitchen windows, casting a golden glow over the countertops. You’re sitting at the table with Aunt Jenna, both of you still in your pajamas, sipping hot coffee and sharing slices of leftover chocolate cake from the night before. Your freshly dyed red streaks are still damp and pulled back into a low bun, and you can smell the faint chemical scent of the dye even over the aroma of brewed coffee and sugar.

You’re laughing about something Jenna just said probably another joke about how you almost dyed your eyebrows red when Elena walks into the kitchen, still half-asleep and rubbing her eyes. She’s in sweats, hair tied up in a lazy bun, and she’s clearly not expecting anything out of the ordinary.

Until she sees you.

She freezes mid-step, eyes squinting as they land on your head. Her brows furrow slowly, like her brain is still buffering what she’s seeing. Then she blurts, “Wait… is that blood on your hair?”

You choke on your coffee mid-sip and start coughing while Aunt Jenna bursts out laughing behind her mug.

You hold up your hand and wave it dismissively. “No, Elena, relax, it’s just hair dye.”

She blinks. “It looks like blood. Like, freshly spilled, just-off-the-victim’s-neck kind of blood.”

Jenna sets her mug down, barely suppressing her smirk. “You should’ve seen the bathroom,” she says, eyes twinkling with amusement. “CSI would’ve taped off the whole area and brought in a forensics team.”

You roll your eyes. “It was not that bad!”

Jenna snorts. “You got dye on the walls, the mirror, your chin, and I’m pretty sure the towel rack has a permanent red streak now. You basically reenacted a vampire attack in there.”

Elena walks over and leans in, inspecting your hair closer. “Okay… fine. It does look kind of cool. But for real, I thought you snapped and went full bloodlust before breakfast.”

You smile, pleased with the reaction. “It’s supposed to be edgy. You know, mysterious but cute.”

Jenna raises an eyebrow. “More like chaotic but charming.”

You nudge her playfully with your elbow, and she laughs again, reaching for another bite of cake.

Elena shakes her head, heading to the fridge. “I swear, every day in this house feels like a deleted scene from a vampire sitcom.”

You lean back in your chair and grin. “That’s what makes it fun.”

Jenna lifts her coffee cup and clinks it lightly against yours. “To red streaks, ruined towels, and mild heart attacks before noon.”

You both laugh, and Elena groans into the fridge, muttering, “I’m moving in with Bonnie.”

It’s late afternoon, and your room is filled with soft golden light filtering in through the curtains. You’re curled up on your bed, wrapped in Elijah’s arms, his fingers gently tracing lazy circles along your shoulder as your head rests on his chest. He kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then finally your lips slow, soft, and lingering.

You giggle quietly as his hand brushes along your waist. “You’re such a sap when you’re like this.”

Elijah smirks, his voice smooth and low. “Only for you. Don’t tell Klaus he’ll never let me live it down.”

You’re just about to reply when the door swings open without warning and Aunt Jenna walks in holding a laundry basket. Her eyes immediately land on you two tangled up on the bed, and she halts mid-step.

She sighs dramatically, her head slowly shaking in mock disappointment. “Not in my house,” she says, deadpan.

You freeze, then slowly lift your head from Elijah’s chest, trying not to laugh. “Yes, Captain,” you say, giving a mock salute with a cheeky grin. Elijah chuckles under his breath, clearly trying to keep his composure.

Jenna raises an eyebrow and sets the laundry basket down with a thump. “I gave you a bedroom, not a day spa for vampires.”

You sit up, still nestled close to Elijah, and smirk. “We were just cuddling… and maybe kissing… and barely corrupting your nice clean sheets.”

Jenna shoots you a look. “Barely?”

Elijah clears his throat politely. “If it helps, I can assure you that our intentions were—”

“Don’t.” Jenna holds up a finger, stopping him mid-sentence. “I don’t need a Mikaelson monologue about restraint and Victorian romance right now.”

You laugh and fall back against Elijah’s chest dramatically. “She just doesn’t understand our epic love story.”

Jenna folds a towel and mutters, “I understand that if you two start dry humping again, I’m bringing holy water and garlic next time I walk in here.”

Elijah leans closer to you and whispers, “She’s terrifying.”

You whisper back, “I know. That’s why I love her.”

Jenna points toward the door on her way out. “Keep the door open. I want airflow in this house.”

You and Elijah glance at each other. “Airflow?” you echo.

“And to keep you two from getting ideas.”

She leaves the room, and you both burst into laughter the moment she’s out of earshot. Elijah kisses your forehead again and says, “I adore her.”

You sigh happily. “Me too. Even if she treats us like horny teenagers.”

He smirks. “We are acting like horny teenagers.”

You snuggle closer and grin. “Exactly. It’s kinda fun.”

It’s late well past midnight and the house is silent except for the faint creaking of the wooden floors and the soft rustling of leaves outside your window. Your room is dimly lit by the glow of a small lamp, casting warm shadows on the walls. You’re lying on your bed, hair tousled and cheeks flushed from laughing too much, Elijah resting beside you, fully clothed but relaxed, propped up on one elbow.

“I should go,” he says in that velvet-smooth voice of his, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face.

You pout teasingly. “You could stay a little longer. You’re already halfway scandalous.”

He smiles, but there’s a spark of amusement in his eyes. “If I stay any longer, your aunt will assume we’re eloping. Or worse shopping for cribs.”

You snort. “Fair. And she would give a lecture.”

He places one last, lingering kiss on your forehead before rising from the bed. “Goodnight, my love.”

You whisper, “Goodnight,” and watch as he quietly exits your room, trying not to disturb the creaky floorboards.

As soon as he steps into the dim hallway and walks toward the living room, click the overhead lights suddenly snap on. Elijah freezes mid-step like a well-dressed deer caught in the headlights.

Jenna is standing near the light switch in her robe, arms crossed, face unimpressed but very amused.

“Well,” she says dryly, “at least you had the decency not to sneak out through the window like some sketchy boyfriend in a teen drama.”

Elijah straightens his jacket like he’s in a press conference. “That was never my intention,” he says politely, his tone calm and sincere. “I would never disrespect your household or your niece that way.”

Jenna raises an eyebrow. “Mmm-hmm. I’d believe you more if your tie wasn’t crooked and your hair didn’t look like she ran her fingers through it twelve times.”

Elijah clears his throat and adjusts his tie swiftly. “Force of habit. She was enthusiastic about a discussion on Shakespeare.”

Jenna snorts. “If ‘Shakespeare’ is code for ‘let’s make out until sunrise,’ then yeah, I bet she was.”

He maintains his composure with a tight, dignified smile. “Your niece is a remarkable young woman. I care for her deeply, and I assure you, my intentions are entirely honorable.”

Jenna walks to the kitchen, pours herself a glass of water, then glances back at him. “You do realize I’ve been raising her since she was practically climbing trees in a tutu, right? You don’t need to give me the ‘gentleman’ speech. Just treat her right and don’t give me a reason to keep a vervain dart gun under my pillow.”

Elijah nods with a small bow, the corners of his mouth twitching with restrained amusement. “Understood. Though I must say, if you ever require assistance with vampire defense, I’m at your service.”

Jenna laughs into her water. “Yeah, okay, Vampire James Bond. Just don’t leave your cufflinks in my sofa.”

He moves toward the door but pauses. “Goodnight, Jenna. And thank you for trusting me with her.”

Jenna softens, her expression losing its teasing edge. “Goodnight, Elijah. And… she’s lucky to have you. But don’t make me regret it.”

He nods one last time and steps out the front door, disappearing into the night like the immortal gentleman he is.

Upstairs, you’re peeking through your blinds and smirking as you watch him leave, already knowing your aunt had her “mom-mode” switched on the moment he stepped into the hallway.

You hear her coming back up the stairs and she calls through your door, “I better not find Shakespeare quotes on your ceiling in the morning!”

You shout back, “Too late!” and collapse into laughter under your blanket.

Elijah is seated in one of the armchairs, a book open in his lap, though it’s clear he hasn’t read a word in the last ten minutes. He’s lost in thought his mind still in the warmth of your room, still hearing your laugh and feeling your hand in his.

Rebekah eyes him for a moment, then takes the seat across from him, curling her legs underneath her. “You’ve got that look on your face again.”

Elijah looks up from the book, brow arched. “What look would that be?”

Rebekah smirks. “The lovesick, utterly useless, floating-on-air look you get whenever you’ve just come back from her place.”

Elijah lets out a soft, amused sigh and closes the book. “She makes me feel… human. In ways I haven’t felt in centuries.”

Rebekah swirls the wine in her glass and shrugs. “Well, I don’t like Elena,” she says bluntly, “never have. She’s too judgmental, too self-righteous, and always acts like she’s the moral compass of the universe.”

Elijah raises an eyebrow. “That’s quite a list, sister.”

Rebekah continues without apology. “But Y/n? She’s different. She’s real. She doesn’t pretend to be perfect, and she doesn’t treat us like we’re walking curses. I actually like her. Which is saying a lot.”

He smiles faintly. “That means more than you know.”

She leans forward slightly, her tone shifting into something firmer, darker. “Which is why I’m only going to say this once.”

Elijah tilts his head, sensing the change.

Rebekah’s eyes narrow, and she lowers her voice. “Never. And I mean never think about hurting her. Not emotionally. Not physically. Not accidentally. Not out of some twisted Mikaelson drama or guilt-ridden sacrifice nonsense you always pull.” She points a finger at him, wine glass in the other hand. “Because if you do? You will not be dealing with Klaus. Or Kol. You will be dealing with me.”

Elijah’s expression is unreadable for a moment, but the seriousness in Rebekah’s voice lands like iron.

“I’m not joking, Elijah,” she adds, softer now, but dead serious. “She’s been through enough. If she’s finally found something real with you, then don’t ruin it. Don’t ruin her.”

He nods slowly, a quiet sincerity in his voice. “I would never do anything to hurt her. Not intentionally. She’s become… precious to me.”

Rebekah leans back in her chair, satisfied but still watching him. “Good. Because she deserves a love that won’t destroy her. We all know too well what it’s like to be torn apart by someone you trust.”

He lowers his gaze for a beat, the weight of those words hitting home.

After a long silence, Rebekah sighs, then softens her expression. “Besides… you’re better when you’re with her. Less brooding, more tolerable.”

Elijah chuckles, the tension easing slightly. “High praise.”

She smirks. “Don’t get used to it.”

Rain taps softly against the tall windows, casting shifting shadows across the walls of the study. A fire burns low in the hearth, crackling faintly. Elijah stands near the mantle, hands clasped behind his back, his posture rigid with thought. Klaus sits in an armchair nearby, swirling a glass of bourbon, eyes trained on his older brother, waiting for him to speak.

After a long silence, Elijah finally breaks it, his voice quiet but weighed down by something deeper.

“My love for Y/n…” he begins, pausing as if the words themselves are too much. “It runs so deep that it terrifies me. It’s a kind of vulnerability I haven’t known in centuries. I know she’s strong brilliant, resourceful, capable of protecting herself. But still, I can’t shake the fear… that she’s going to get caught in the crossfire.”

Klaus tilts his glass thoughtfully, taking a slow sip before replying. “You think I’ll involve her.”

Elijah turns, eyes narrowing slightly. “I know you, Niklaus. I know how you think. How you react when you’re cornered, when your back is against the wall. You bring down kingdoms to save yourself. You burn cities if it means escaping your fate. So yes I fear that one day, when the war comes to our doorstep, you won’t hesitate to use her as leverage, or worse… collateral.”

Klaus doesn’t answer immediately. His gaze darkens, and for a moment, the silence between them feels volatile.

“You think I would be so careless as to drag the woman of my own brother into my destruction?” Klaus asks quietly, dangerously.

Elijah meets his eyes with unflinching resolve. “Not because you want to. But because you do, Niklaus. You always do. Our enemies are many witches, werewolves, hunters, the very people we once called family. They know who Y/n is to me. And I know how easily someone like you can forget the cost of your chaos until the damage is already done.”

Klaus rises from his chair, walking slowly toward the fireplace, standing beside Elijah now. His voice softens, but it’s threaded with a rare sincerity.

“You’re right,” he says, staring into the flames. “I have done terrible things. I’ve sacrificed innocents, burned bridges, betrayed those who trusted me. I’ve hurt people to survive even loved ones.”

He turns to face Elijah, and for once, there’s no rage behind his eyes. Only truth.

“But not her,” he says. “Not Y/n. She’s different.”

Elijah watches him closely, as if weighing every syllable.

Klaus continues. “She brings out something in you—something rare. Something good. And despite what everyone believes, I do care about that. About her. She’s not just some girl you’re enamored with. She’s family now. And I don’t destroy the people I care about.”

Elijah sighs, shoulders loosening slightly, but his tone remains steady. “Then prove it. When the time comes when danger is at our door I want your word. You protect her. No matter what. Not because of me, but because she deserves that.”

Klaus nods slowly. “You have my word, brother. I will protect her. Not just for you… but because Y/n is one of the few people in this wretched world who sees the good in us, even when we can’t.”

They stand there for a moment, the silence no longer filled with tension, but something solemn sacred.

You and Aunt Jenna are sitting on the porch, warm mugs of coffee in hand, wrapped in cozy blankets as the early sunlight filters through the trees. Birds are chirping, and there’s a lazy calm in the air no supernatural drama (yet), no urgent text messages, just the quiet buzz of a small town waking up.

You take a long sip of your coffee and lean back in your chair with a sigh. Jenna’s watching you out of the corner of her eye with a suspiciously playful smirk tugging at her lips.

“So…” she begins, dragging out the word.

You narrow your eyes. “What?”

She shrugs, pretending to be casual. “I was just thinking… if you hadn’t fallen in love with Elijah, do you think you would’ve ended up with Klaus? Or…” She raises her brows suggestively. “Damon?”

You nearly choke on your coffee. “Wait, what?!”

Jenna laughs. “Come on! You’ve been around both of them a lot, and don’t act like you haven’t noticed they’re both walking, talking episodes of a guilty-pleasure drama.”

You blink at her, stunned. “That’s… actually a really good question,” you admit slowly, setting your cup down. “I mean, I never really thought about it. Klaus and I have this chaotic history, and Damon he’s like this unpredictable storm with a weird sense of charm… but I don’t know.”

Jenna sips her coffee like she’s the wise oracle of all things romantic. “Mmm-hmm. You don’t know, but I do. It’s Damon.”

You gasp in mock offense. “You think I’d fall for Damon?”

She grins wickedly. “Absolutely. I know you. You’re drawn to that whole tortured-bad-boy thing, whether you admit it or not. Plus, he’s a total hottie.”

You stare at her. “Aunt Jenna!”

She shrugs shamelessly. “What? I’m not blind. The man’s got jawlines for days, and that leather jacket situation? Don’t get me started.”

You groan, covering your face. “Oh my god. You know Elena is going to threaten your life if she hears you talking about him like that.”

Jenna smirks into her mug. “Even if she’s dating Stefan? Please. I’ve seen the way she looks at Damon when she thinks no one’s watching.”

You lower your mug and give her a look. “You are way too observant for your own good.”

Jenna nudges you playfully with her elbow. “Hey, I’m just saying if Elijah hadn’t swooped in with his old-school manners and perfect suits, you might’ve ended up with the dark and brooding Salvatore or the charming, dangerous hybrid.”

You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Imagine that love triangle. Elijah the gentleman, Damon the reckless flirt, and Klaus the overprotective chaos incarnate.”

Jenna laughs. “It would’ve been messy. But very entertaining.”

You smile, looking off toward the trees. “Thank god I ended up with the one who actually makes me feel like I’m safe… even when the world’s falling apart.”

Jenna’s voice softens. “Yeah. And I can see it in your eyes every time you talk about him. You picked right.”

You glance at her and smile. “But if I ever do find Damon shirtless in my kitchen, just know it wasn’t my fault.”

She winks. “I’ll allow it… as long as I get to stare too.”

It’s late afternoon at the Salvatore house, and you’ve stopped by to drop off a book Stefan lent you something about ancient vampire treaties that you definitely pretended to be interested in just to be polite. You were planning to drop it and leave quietly, but of course, Damon is lounging on the couch like he owns the entire town, a tumbler of bourbon in one hand, that cocky smirk already locked and loaded.

“Well, well,” he drawls as you step into the room. “If it isn’t Elijah’s lovely other half. What brings you to my humble fortress of bad decisions?”

You roll your eyes, placing the book on the table. “Relax. I’m not here to steal your bourbon or borrow your leather jacket.”

Damon grins, sitting up straighter and eyeing you with way too much amusement. “Shame. I was starting to think you missed me.”

You shoot him a deadpan look. “Missed you? Damon, if I wanted endless sarcasm and unsolicited winks, I could just talk to my reflection in the toaster.”

He lets out a dramatic gasp and presses a hand to his chest. “Ouch. And here I thought we had a special little connection. The way you look at me? Those lingering glances? That tiny smirk you always try to hide when I walk into the room…”

You blink. “Are you seriously rewriting our entire history into some romantic comedy in your head right now?”

He stands, walking toward you slowly, glass still in hand, voice low and overly confident. “You definitely flirt with me. Admit it. It’s okay. You’re only human… well, mostly.”

You cross your arms and raise a brow. “Damon, I smile at you because I’m trying not to laugh when you try to act smooth. It’s sympathy. Not flirting.”

He steps closer, now just a breath away, and smirks like he already won. “You sure? Because I’ve seen the way your eyes linger. The way you bite your lip when I say something ‘dangerously charming.’”

You scoff. “Or maybe it’s because I’m debating whether or not to throw something at you.”

He raises his brows. “Still counts as attention. I live for it.”

You shake your head with a small smile, turning to leave. “Unbelievable. You are the human version of a smirk and a leather jacket.”

As you walk out, he calls after you with a cocky grin, “Just admit it, sweetheart! I’m your guilty pleasure.”

Without turning back, you call out, “My guilty pleasure is chocolate cake and Elijah reading poetry. You’re just a headache in tight jeans.”

Damon raises his glass in salute. “Still love me.”

Elena is mid-sentence, animatedly waving her hands. “and then Stefan literally blushed when I told him I had a dream where he turned into a golden retriever and tried to propose.”

You burst out laughing, nearly choking on your tea. “Wait what? Did dream-Stefan have a little ring box in his mouth or something?”

“He did!” Elena groans with a laugh. “He sat there wagging his tail and everything. I woke up confused and emotionally betrayed.”

Jenna grins, sipping her wine. “Honestly, sounds like a metaphor for most Mystic Falls relationships sweet, loyal, and completely surreal.”

You lean back into the couch, legs tucked underneath you. “Okay, okay. But can we talk about Elijah for a second? Because this man bought me first edition Emily Dickinson poetry and didn’t even brag about it.”

Elena gasps. “That’s better than jewelry.”

Jenna nods approvingly. “Gentleman behavior. Take notes, Mystic Falls boys.”

“Seriously,” you say, grinning. “And when I told him I had a bad day, he just listened. Didn’t try to fix it, didn’t make it about him. Just… sat with me.”

Jenna sighs dreamily. “Marry him.”

Elena raises a brow. “Slow down, Aunt Jenna.”

You laugh and raise your mug. “To emotionally available vampires with great taste in literature.”

Elena and Jenna clink their mugs with yours, all of you giggling like teenagers.

Just as Jenna leans in, clearly about to dive into some juicy story from her college days, the front door creaks open and in walks Jeremy hoodie half-zipped, earbuds dangling around his neck, and an expression that screams why is it so loud in here.

He stops in his tracks when he sees the scene: candles, blankets, chick flicks, and the unmistakable aura of feminine energy.

“Uh…” he squints. “Am I interrupting a coven meeting or something?”

Elena rolls her eyes. “It’s called girl talk, Jeremy. You wouldn’t understand.”

Jeremy raises his hands in mock defense. “Okay, okay. I just came down for a soda. Chill.”

Jenna grins. “Unless you want to sit down and discuss vampire boyfriends, exes, and emotionally unavailable men, I suggest you take your soda and run.”

Jeremy makes a face. “Nope. Hard pass.”

As he turns to leave, you call out, “Wait! Before you go Team Damon or Team Stefan?”

He pauses, groans loudly, and keeps walking toward the kitchen. “Why is that even a question in this house?!”

You, Elena, and Jenna dissolve into laughter as the fridge door slams open in the background.

Jenna leans in and whispers, “Boys are so dramatic.”

Elena smirks. “They really are.”

The next morning, the sun is shining but it feels wrong. Too bright. Too calm.

You pull into the driveway of your house after spending the night at the Mikaelsons. Elijah’s cologne still clinging faintly to your clothes. His goodbye kiss had been soft, his hands warm against your face, promising he’d see you soon. Everything had felt safe. Peaceful. For once, it felt like things might finally be okay.

But as you approach the front door, that peace begins to crack.

The house is quiet. No music playing from Elena’s room. No clatter of dishes in the kitchen. Just… silence. Thick and eerie.

You step inside slowly, calling out, “Elena? Aunt Jenna?”

No answer.

Your heart starts to pound. You drop your bag by the door and move further in, eyes scanning the living room. It’s empty. A coffee cup is still sitting on the side table—half full, gone cold.

“Elena?” you try again, your voice trembling now.

You hear a small sound a sniff. Then another.

You follow it upstairs, your footsteps cautious, every creak of the stairs echoing through the stillness. When you push open Elena’s door, you find her curled up in the corner of her bed, knees drawn to her chest, her face buried in her hands. She’s shaking.

“Elena?” you whisper, stepping closer, fear gripping your throat.

She looks up slowly, and her eyes are red and swollen, mascara streaked down her cheeks. The moment she sees you, a broken sob escapes her lips.

You rush to her side, kneeling in front of her. “What happened? Elena, what what is it?”

She tries to speak, but her voice cracks. She covers her mouth like she’s trying to hold herself together. You grasp her hands gently, your voice shaking. “Please. Tell me what happened.”

“Elijah…” she chokes out. “You… you need to sit down.”

Your blood goes cold.

“Elena,” you say, firmer now, “What. Happened?”

She looks you dead in the eyes, and it’s the kind of look that tells you your world is about to fall apart.

“It’s Aunt Jenna,” she whispers. “She’s gone.”

The words hit you like a car crash. You blink, trying to process them, your body frozen.

“No,” you whisper. “No, that’s not… that’s not funny.”

“She’s gone,” Elena repeats, voice breaking completely now. “Last night Klaus he… he killed her.”

The room spins. You stumble back, barely catching yourself on the edge of the bed.

“No, that can’t be right Elijah said Klaus was keeping his distance. He said he wouldn’t he promised—”

“He lied,” Elena snaps, more anger than anything else, tears pouring down her face. “Klaus turned her into a vampire. Then he used her. And when he was done, he —he killed her like she was nothing.”

You’re shaking your head, your hands gripping your thighs so hard your nails dig into your skin.

“No… no, no, no. She was just she was just drinking wine on the porch yesterday she was teasing me about Damon she can’t be gone.”

Elena wraps her arms around you, but it doesn’t feel like comfort. It feels like suffocating. Like reality is pressing down on your chest and stealing all the air.

You break.

A sound tears from your throat a cry so raw, so guttural, it doesn’t even sound like you. Your whole body folds in on itself, and you sob into Elena’s shoulder, both of you shaking, both of you drowning in the loss.

“I should’ve been here,” you whisper over and over. “I should’ve protected her. I should’ve been here.”

Elena just cries harder.

Downstairs, the clock ticks like nothing happened. Outside, birds still sing. But in that room, the world has changed forever.

And all you can feel is the absence of the woman who raised you gone because of a man you thought you could trust.

And something inside you starts to harden.

The moment Elena’s words sink into your soul Klaus killed Aunt Jenna something inside you cracks so violently it feels like it takes your breath with it.

You barely remember how you left the house. Your legs moved on their own, your vision blurry, ears ringing with Elena’s voice echoing like a ghost: He used her. He killed her.

You feel numb. Cold. Like the warmth from your body left the second you realized you’d spent the night wrapped in Elijah’s arms safe, cared for, even laughing while your aunt was being turned, used, and discarded like nothing.

And he knew. He had to have known.

It doesn’t take long to find him. He’s outside the Mikaelson compound, standing in the courtyard, speaking softly with Kol. The second he sees you, he straightens, his expression instantly shifting—concern, relief, warmth.

“Y/N,” Elijah says, stepping toward you, “I was just coming to see you.”

You stop in your tracks, eyes fixed on him like daggers. Something about the way he says your name makes your stomach twist—how dare he sound so calm.

He notices the storm brewing in your eyes and takes another step closer, cautiously. “What’s wrong?”

You don’t answer immediately. You just stare at him. And the moment of silence is heavy. Too heavy. Then you breathe out—broken, sharp—and ask quietly, too quietly:

“When were you going to tell me?”

Elijah’s brow furrows. “Tell you what?”

You clench your jaw. “That your brother killed my aunt.”

The color drains from his face.

“Elena told me everything,” you go on, voice shaking, but no longer soft. “Klaus turned her. Used her. And then he killed her like she was disposable. Like she was nothing.”

Elijah opens his mouth, but you hold up your hand. “Don’t. Don’t even try to defend him. Don’t tell me he was desperate or that it was a sacrifice. Don’t insult her memory like that.”

“I wasn’t going to—” he starts, but you cut him off, anger bubbling out like lava.

“You knew, Elijah. You knew Klaus was planning something. You kept telling me you’d protect me and the people I love, but you let me stay the night with you while he slaughtered her!” Your voice cracks at the end, and tears spill down your cheeks, but you don’t care. “You were distracting me while she was dying.”

“No,” Elijah breathes, stepping closer. “I didn’t know. I swear to you—I didn’t know. If I had—”

“You would’ve what?” you snap. “Stopped him? Lied better? Offered someone else instead?”

He flinches like you slapped him.

“I trusted you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper now, full of heartbreak. “I let you in. I let myself love you. And while I was in your arms, my aunt the woman who raised me was being ripped away from me.”

Elijah takes another step toward you. “Please—Y/N, look at me. You know me. You know I would never—”

But you shake your head, backing away.

“I don’t know you,” you whisper. “Not anymore.”

You turn, your footsteps heavy and uneven, but you don’t stop. You don’t look back, even as Elijah calls your name—once, then again, more broken, more desperate.

“Y/N please don’t walk away like this—”

But you keep going.

Because if you turn around now, if you see the guilt in his eyes, the pain on his face you might shatter completely.

And you’ve already lost too much to let him break you, too.

You don’t know how you got home. The roads blurred beneath your tires, the air was cold and sharp, and your hands shook the entire drive. The house is dark when you step inside too quiet. Too still. Like it knows something is gone.

You stand in the middle of the living room where it all once felt full. Jenna’s laughter used to echo here. Her music used to play. Her voice used to call you in from the porch for dinner or force you and Elena to sit down for “girl talks” you’d pretend to hate but secretly loved.

Now… silence.

You drop your keys and just stand there, arms hanging limp at your sides as the weight of it finally sinks in.

She’s gone.

A sob builds in your throat, but before it can rise, your knees buckle, and you collapse onto the couch. And then, like a dam shattering, the memories hit you hard and fast, in violent, suffocating waves.

You see Jenna holding you as a child, brushing your hair behind your ear, whispering, “You’re safe now, baby. I’ve got you.”

You see her at your first school play, standing and clapping way too loudly, cheering like you’d just won an Oscar.

You see her with Jeremy, gently guiding him through heartbreak. With Elena, holding her steady through every storm. With you always with you wiping your tears, grounding you when everything felt like it was falling apart.

You remember the night you told her you were a vampire. How scared you were that she’d look at you like a monster. But she didn’t flinch. Not once.

She’d sat beside you, silent for a long moment, and then said, “You’re still my girl. No matter what. Nothing—nothing— could ever make me stop loving you.”

You remember her stroking your hair that night while you cried in her lap, whispering, “I know you didn’t ask for this. But I’m here. Always.”

And now… she’s gone.

Used. Killed. Just another casualty in Klaus’s sick game.

Your vision blurs as tears spill down your cheeks, your body trembling. You scream into the silence a scream so raw it doesn’t even sound human.

“I should’ve protected her!” you shout into the empty room. “I should’ve been here I should’ve—I should’ve—”

But there’s no one to answer. No one to hold you this time.

You crumble onto the couch and weep until your voice is hoarse, until your body feels like it’s unraveling from the inside. The pain is unbearable like fire in your chest, like acid in your veins. Your heart feels like it’s ripping open over and over and over again.

And then…

Something shifts.

You sit up slowly, the tears still wet on your face. Your breathing evens out not calmer, but emptier. Like something inside you is retreating.

You walk to the mirror in the hallway and stare at yourself.

Eyes bloodshot. Cheeks pale. A girl who looks like she’s already dead inside.

“I can’t do this,” you whisper. “I can’t feel this.”

You place your hand on your chest, where the pain sits like a knife.

“I can’t survive this kind of pain again.”

And then, without another word, you close your eyes.

And you flip the switch.

It’s immediate. Like someone silenced the screaming in your head. The pain stops. The grief disappears. The tightness in your chest melts into nothing.

You open your eyes and stare at your reflection again. There’s no emotion. No tremble in your lip. No tears on your lashes.

Just cold.

Still.

Empty.

You breathe in deeply, straighten your shoulders, and whisper:

“She’s gone. And now so am I.”

And you turn away from the mirror no longer the girl she raised.

No longer someone who feels anything at all.

It’s nearly midnight when Elijah finds him.

Klaus stands at the edge of a clearing just outside the woods, his back turned, paint-stained fingers gripping a half-finished canvas propped against a tree. The moonlight casts long shadows over the grass, and the only sound is the quiet rustling of the wind through the leaves.

He doesn’t turn when Elijah approaches.

“You knew,” Elijah says, his voice low, trembling with fury, heartbreak swimming just beneath the surface. “You knew what you were going to do to her. You planned it.”

Klaus doesn’t respond right away. He continues brushing a few strokes across the canvas, like he’s trying to distract himself from what he already knows is coming.

“I made you a promise,” Klaus finally says, still facing away.

Elijah steps closer, his voice rising now. “You promised me you wouldn’t hurt her! You said you cared about her—that you wouldn’t drag the people I love into your games. That was your word, Niklaus. And like always, you twisted it.”

Klaus finally turns, slowly, his face unreadable. “You think I wanted this?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Elijah spits, eyes burning. “You told me you don’t hurt the people you care about. You said it. And now Jenna’s dead. Y/N is broken. You destroyed the only home she had left.”

Klaus narrows his eyes. “You don’t understand the cost of what we’re dealing with. Sacrifices had to be made.”

Elijah’s jaw tightens. “You call Jenna a sacrifice?”

“She was human,” Klaus says flatly. “A liability. One of many.”

Elijah steps closer, his hands clenched into fists. “She was her family. She was ours. And now she’s gone. And for what, Niklaus? Power? Leverage? Some twisted ritual to prove you’re still in control?”

Klaus’s expression shifts just for a moment. Guilt. Regret. But it vanishes quickly.

“Sometimes,” he says quietly, “you have to make choices that hurt the people you care about… if it means protecting them from something worse. Or saving yourself before everything collapses.”

“You sound like our father,” Elijah says coldly.

Klaus flinches.

“That’s what he did, didn’t he?” Elijah goes on. “Sacrificed us. Made his choices. Said it was to protect the family. You’re no different than him now.”

Klaus’s face hardens. “Don’t you dare compare me to him.”

“Then prove it,” Elijah growls, his voice cracking with emotion. “Tell me there was no other way. Tell me you didn’t have a choice. Tell me that you didn’t watch Y/N smile and laugh and trust you, knowing what you were about to do to the one person she couldn’t live without!”

Klaus turns away again, jaw clenched, eyes dark and stormy. He doesn’t answer.

And that silence says more than anything else.

Elijah’s breath shakes as he speaks again, softer this time, full of quiet devastation. “She’s turned off her humanity, Niklaus. She looked me in the eye and didn’t even see me. She’s gone… because of you.”

Klaus closes his eyes.

“She loved you,” Elijah adds bitterly. “She defended you. Even when I couldn’t. And now she doesn’t feel anything. Because that was easier than surviving what you did.”

For a long moment, neither of them speaks. The wind blows between them, cold and hollow. The canvas flutters in the breeze, streaked with angry brushstrokes.

“I never meant for it to happen like this,” Klaus finally says, so quiet it’s nearly a whisper.

Elijah’s eyes shine with unshed tears, his voice soft and tired. “You never mean to, brother. But you always do.”

And with that, Elijah turns and walks away, leaving Klaus alone in the clearing haunted by the silence, and the weight of what he’s broken beyond repair.

It’s been days since you turned off your humanity.

Days since the screaming inside your head finally went quiet.

Days since Jenna’s face last haunted you in your dreams.

Now, all you feel is… nothing. And that nothing has become your sanctuary.

The sky is dark above the Mystic Falls back road, clouds swirling above like bruises. You stand over your next victim a young man trembling in the dirt, blood already smeared at the corner of your mouth. His pulse is loud, quick, panicked. The fear in his eyes used to mean something. Used to stop you. But now?

Now it’s just… noise.

You crouch slowly, gripping his collar, your fangs just beginning to drop, when—

“Y/N,” a familiar voice says behind you, strained. Pleading.

You freeze.

You don’t turn. Your jaw tightens.

“Elijah,” you say coldly, “you should go.”

He steps closer, his voice barely above a whisper. “This isn’t you. You don’t kill for pleasure. You don’t hurt people who can’t defend themselves.”

You finally stand and turn to face him, slowly, your expression unreadable. But your eyes are darker now. Hollow. Your voice is void of warmth.

“Why are you talking to me like I’m the one who started all of this?” you ask, your tone sharp but calm, almost mocking. “Like I’m the villain in the story?”

He looks at you, aching in his eyes. “Because I know you, and I know this isn’t what Jenna would’ve—”

“Don’t you say her name,” you snap, stepping forward, your eyes glowing faintly. “You don’t get to say her name. Not when your psycho brother killed her.”

Elijah flinches at the venom in your voice.

“She was the most innocent woman in my life,” you continue, your voice rising now, each word cutting like glass. “The only mother I had left. She protected me, believed in me, loved me when I couldn’t even love myself. And your family took her away.”

“I didn’t know—” he begins, but you cut him off with a bitter laugh.

“No, of course you didn’t. You were too busy pulling me into your bed and whispering promises you couldn’t keep. While your brother was tearing my world apart—again.”

Elijah’s eyes flicker with guilt, but you shake your head before he can speak.

“So don’t stand there trying to guilt me, Elijah. Don’t play the noble card and pretend you’re still the better brother. If you need someone to shame and lecture, try Klaus. Or better yet yourself.”

You walk past him, brushing his shoulder with yours, cold and unforgiving. He reaches for your arm, gently, desperately.

“Y/N… please—”

You yank away, your voice low and final. “Let me be.”

The sky is heavy with clouds as Elijah makes his way to the Gilbert house, his footsteps purposeful but weighed down by the burden he carries. The past few days have been a nightmare a whirlwind of guilt, pain, and shattered trust. He knows what he has to do, even if it means facing the very people his family has hurt.

Bonnie’s already in position when he arrives, standing slightly behind Elena and the Salvatore brothers, her hands just brushing the edge of her spellbook. A protection charm glows faintly beneath her fingertips, ready to be activated at the first sign of danger.

Elena’s arms are crossed, her stance rigid, eyes sharp with distrust. Damon moves in front of her instinctively, his hand twitching slightly as though he’s already thinking about staking Elijah before he even opens his mouth. Stefan watches silently, but his expression is taut and weary.

The moment Elijah steps into the clearing, they block the path to Elena.

He stops a few feet away, lifts his hands to show he’s unarmed.“I didn’t come to fight,” he says softly.

Elena narrows her eyes. Her voice is cold. Flat. “Then what did you come for? Another one of your carefully-worded, emotionally detached speeches? Did you come to justify what your family did?”

Elijah bows his head slightly, the weight of her words sinking deep. “I know I have no right to be here,” he admits quietly. “I wouldn’t show my face after what Klaus did. But I need your help with Y/N.”

Elena’s eyes flash with suspicion and concern. “What’s wrong with my sister?”

Elijah takes a deep breath, steeling himself before he speaks. “I’m afraid she’s… turned off her humanity. The pain of losing Jenna was too much for her to bear. She couldn’t handle it. So she shut down all her feelings.”

There’s a heavy silence as his words settle over the group. “She’s not just hurting, Elena,” Elijah continues, voice low and urgent. “She’s changed. She’s killing—feeding—without restraint. And if we don’t help her, she could spiral into something far worse. Something that could destroy her completely.”

Bonnie’s fingers tighten in her spell, ready to protect if needed, but her eyes flicker with empathy.

Elena’s face crumples, the raw pain of fear and helplessness breaking through her usual composure. “Y/N… my sister… I don’t want to believe it. But if she’s out there hurting people, then we have to stop her. We have to save her.”

Stefan steps forward, voice calm but resolute. “We’ll help. Whatever it takes.”

Elijah nods, grateful but still weighed down by the burden of what’s to come. “Thank you. I know this is difficult. For all of you guys.”

The search had gone on for days.

And with every passing hour, it felt like you were slipping further and further away.

Elijah stood rigidly in the Salvatore living room, arms crossed, jaw clenched, staring at the map sprawled out across the coffee table. Pins. Circles. Places she’d been spotted. Corpses drained and abandoned. All dead ends.

Elena sat on the edge of the couch, exhausted and anxious, her fingers twisting the silver daylight ring on her thumb. Stefan leaned over the map, trying to make sense of a trail that didn’t want to be followed, while Damon paced behind the sofa like a caged animal, half a glass of bourbon in hand, though even he hadn’t touched it in minutes.

“Nothing,” Stefan muttered, drawing a line between two towns. “No leads. She’s not staying in one place for long.”

“She doesn’t need to,” Damon added bitterly. “No humanity means no guilt, no hesitation, and no reason to hide unless she wants to toy with us. She’s playing with us.”

“She’s not playing,” Elijah said, voice low, but full of a quiet ache. “She’s lost.”

The room went still at that.

And then, Bonnie who had been sitting silently with her grimoire open and pages scattered around her stood suddenly, as if a light had flickered on in her mind.

“I think… I might have something,” she said.

All eyes turned to her.

“What is it?” Elena asked, hope and desperation laced in her voice.

“I’ve been reading a tracking spell. It’s ancient, but it was originally used to trace the bloodline of vampires… or those sired by the same blood,” Bonnie said, flipping through the pages of her book.

Damon frowned. “You want to use a sire bond locator?”

“No,” Bonnie clarified, “not the bond itself. But blood that shares the same lineage. The spell can link a vampire’s location to another from the same bloodline. And since Y/N was turned by Katherine…”

Stefan’s eyes widened slightly. “Who turned Damon and me.”

Bonnie nodded. “Exactly. That makes your blood linked to hers distantly, but enough for the spell to work.”

Damon raised a brow, lowering his glass. “So you want a sample of our blood? You could’ve just said that instead of reciting a whole spellbook.”

“Damon,” Bonnie said through a clenched jaw. “You want to find her or not?”

He rolled his eyes but held out his arm. “Fine. Poke me, witch.”

Bonnie gave him a tight smile and handed him a small silver blade. Damon sliced his palm, letting a few thick drops fall onto the blank parchment she placed in front of her. Stefan silently did the same beside him.

Bonnie closed her eyes, letting the blood soak into the page, murmuring the spell under her breath as her fingers hovered above it. The candles around the room flickered violently, reacting to the surge of magic. The blood began to swirl across the paper like ink in water, carving lines, symbols, and finally slowly forming a map. Red veins spread outward until they landed on a single point, glowing faintly.

“She’s in Oak Hill,” Bonnie whispered, opening her eyes.

Elijah stepped forward. “Are you certain?”

Bonnie nodded. “Yes. She’s there. But I don’t know for how long.”

Elena leaned forward. “Why would she be there? There’s nothing in Oak Hill.”

Elijah’s eyes darkened. “There’s nothing for you there. But Y/N… she once told me it was a place she and Jenna used to go. A quiet retreat when things got too loud.”

“So now she’s turning it into a feeding ground,” Damon muttered. “Great. Even her trauma has real estate.”

Elijah shot him a sharp look but said nothing. The urgency in the room thickened.

Bonnie stood, her voice steady. “We have her location. But you need to be prepared. She’s not Y/N right now.”

Stefan nodded solemnly. “Then we’ll bring her back… one way or another.”

Elijah’s eyes stayed fixed on the glowing point on the map. His voice was barely a whisper.

“She’s still in there. I know she is.”

And now, for the first time in days, they had a way to find her.

Even if what they found… wasn’t who they remembered.

The forest at Oak Hill was quiet… eerily so. The sun had dipped low behind the trees, casting long shadows across the clearing where the last blood trail had led them. Elijah, Stefan, Damon, Elena, and Bonnie moved through the trees with a careful urgency. Each footstep was deliberate. Each breath was heavy.

They were close now. They could feel it.

And then… they heard it.

A scream.

A woman’s voice frantic, terrified.

Elijah didn’t hesitate. He ran.

The others followed closely behind, weaving through the brush until they broke through the treeline into a clearing—and there you were.

Your back was to them, your hand gripping a woman by the throat, lifting her off the ground effortlessly. Her eyes were wide with terror, her feet kicking helplessly, the scent of blood already thick in the air. You were just about to sink your fangs into her neck when—

“Baby!!” Elijah’s voice thundered across the clearing.

You paused.

“What are you doing?! Please—let her go!” His voice cracked, raw with desperation.

You froze. Slowly, your head turned.

Your eyes locked onto him, then flicked across the clearing.

Damon.

Stefan.

Elena.

Bonnie.

All of them stood there, unmoving. Faces tight with fear, concern, heartbreak.

You narrowed your eyes, your grip on the woman loosening, but your expression twisted with anger.

“How…?” your voice was low, a growl almost. “How did you find me?”

Bonnie stepped forward slightly, her voice calm but steady. “We tracked you. Through your bloodline.”

You dropped the woman to the ground, where she crawled away, gasping. You didn’t even look at her anymore. Your eyes were locked onto them.

“I told you to let me be,” you said, stalking toward them slowly, predatory and poised. “But you just couldn’t do that, could you?”

Elijah stepped forward carefully. “Y/N, please. I know you’re in pain. I know you don’t want to feel it—but this isn’t the way.”

You laughed bitterly. “You think you know what I feel? You think you understand what it’s like to watch the only good person in your life die while you’re too busy sleeping next to the man whose brother murdered her?”

His face dropped, jaw tightening with shame.

“You should’ve stayed away,” you whispered. “All of you. Do I need to show you again what happens when you don’t listen?”

You took another step forward, veins darkening beneath your eyes, your fangs descending.

Bonnie’s fingers twitched.

“Now, Bonnie,” Elena said quietly.

Bonnie closed her eyes and murmured a spell under her breath, voice ancient and precise. A golden light began to glow between her palms as wind rushed through the trees like a sudden storm.

You staggered.

Your eyes widened.

“What…?” you gasped, stumbling backward. “What are you—”

And then your body collapsed.

Elijah moved faster than anyone, catching you before you hit the ground. You were limp in his arms, your breathing shallow, face still and pale, your dark lashes resting gently against your cheeks like you were just sleeping.

He held you tightly, cradling you to his chest like you were the most fragile thing in the world.

The others stood around silently relieved, broken, and afraid of what would come next.

“She’ll wake up soon,” Bonnie said quietly. “But that was temporary. It bought us time. Nothing more.”

Elijah looked down at you, brushing the hair from your face, voice shaking as he whispered, “I’ll bring you back. I swear to you, I’ll bring you home.”

And in the middle of the woods, surrounded by blood, silence, and broken hearts, the first battle to save your soul had just begun.

The world felt… strange.

You blinked slowly as you opened your eyes, vision blurred by sleep and unfamiliar stillness. The room was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the lamp on your dresser. You recognized the sheets beneath you—the soft ones you’d picked out with Jenna after a long afternoon of shopping. The scent of lavender still lingered faintly in the air.

Home.

But it didn’t feel like home. Not without her.

Your body was heavy as you sat up in bed. There was no ache, no tension just numbness. You looked down at your hands, flexing your fingers, remembering the weight of your last victim’s blood, the way the warmth drained from their skin.

And yet, somehow, this bed… this house… it still hadn’t burned to ash the way your insides had.

You stood and crossed the room slowly. Every movement felt distant, like it belonged to someone else. Your feet carried you to the door almost without thought. You placed your hand on the knob, twisted it, and pulled it open.

Elijah was standing right there.

Tall. Silent. Steady. Like he had been waiting the entire night.

His face was etched with exhaustion and guilt. His eyes, those eyes you once loved to get lost in, were now glassy with a sadness so deep it mirrored your own.

You moved to step past him without a word.

But his hand gently caught your arm not forcefully, just enough to stop you.

“Y/N,” he said softly, voice thick, “please. Just… wait.”

You turned toward him slowly, your face blank, but your eyes holding a storm beneath the surface.

“I feel what you’re feeling,” Elijah continued, stepping closer, still holding your arm with a touch that was more anchor than restraint. “And I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for the pain my brother has caused you.”

You stared at him for a long, agonizing moment before your mouth twisted, your voice finally cracking through the shell around you.

“You don’t know what I’m feeling.”

Tears welled up in your eyes so suddenly it took your breath away. You shoved at his chest not hard, but enough. Your voice shook, broken and angry and lost all at once.

“You weren’t there. You didn’t see what he did to her. You didn’t feel her slip away. You didn’t hold her hand while she was alive you didn’t wake up knowing she’s gone. Forever.”

Your voice dropped to a whisper. “You don’t know what that kind of emptiness feels like.”

Elijah didn’t flinch. He didn’t look away.

“I do,” he said gently, his hand moving from your arm to your cheek, brushing away a tear that had started to fall. “Because I know you. I know your heart. I know how much Jenna meant to you how she raised you, loved you, protected you. I know you’re walking through every second of this pretending it doesn’t hurt, because it hurts too much to let yourself feel it.”

You shook your head, but the tears were already spilling freely. You didn’t want to cry, didn’t want to break, but his words his eyes were cutting through every wall.

“I know you think shutting off your humanity was the only way to survive it,” he whispered, stepping closer. “But you’re not alone in this, Y/N. You never were. And you don’t have to carry this weight without someone to hold it with you.”

He paused, swallowing hard.

“If you need a shoulder to cry on, I’m here. If you need silence, I’ll sit with you. If you need rage I’ll burn with you. But please…” his voice faltered, “I pray you turn it back on. Not for me. Not for them. For you. Because the girl I love the woman who fought so hard to keep her family together she’s still in there. And she deserves to come back.”

You stared at him, your face trembling as tears spilled freely now, no longer held back.

His hand pressed gently to your chest, right over your heart.

“Let her come back,” he whispered. “Please.”

And then—

It hit you.

Like a wave crashing over your soul, the dam you built so carefully burst open.

The grief. The love. The guilt. The memories. All of it came flooding back in one unbearable, unstoppable surge. You gasped and staggered forward, clutching his shirt as a scream escaped your lips raw and guttural.

Elijah caught you instantly, pulling you into his arms as you sobbed uncontrollably against his chest. Your fists balled in his jacket, your body shaking as every emotion came crashing down, drowning you in everything you tried to escape.

“She’s really gone,” you whispered between sobs, “and I couldn’t save her.”

“I know,” Elijah murmured, pressing his lips to the top of your head, his own eyes wet with grief. “But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

You collapsed into him completely, no longer fighting the pain. No longer pretending it wasn’t there.

And for the first time since you lost her, you felt again.

And for the first time since you shut the world out, someone was there to hold you through it.

[mytherapyisreading14]

Never Alone

Summary: A month ago Spencer proposed to you and you couldn’t be more happy - until now. You find out he’s in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Category: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: Mention of Panic Attack and Murder

Word Count: 1,5k

You still remember exactly what you were doing when the call came in.

It had been one of those quiet, blissfully uneventful afternoons. The kind that makes you forget, just for a moment, that the world can be anything but gentle. You were in the kitchen, barefoot on the cold tiles, humming along to a playlist Spencer made for you.

A soft blend of instrumental music, jazz and old love songs with that one cello piece he loved most playing in the background. You had just finished scribbling down a list with your wedding ideas. Nothing official, just some thoughts, half-finished sentences and little hearts in the corners. You'd even written "First dance?" and underneath, "maybe Can't Help Falling in Love with you?"

The one you always danced to in the living room when the lights were off and only the streetlights lit the walls. It was a moment of pure love and chaos since the two of you are both not experts in dancing. Still, everything felt like it was falling into place.

And then your phone rang. You glanced at the screen, expecting maybe your sister or Spencer, but the name Penelope made you smile. Little did you know, that smile only lasted a second. From the moment you answered, you knew something was wrong.

Penelope's voice, usually bubbling with warmth and excitement, sounded completely still. She didn't even say hi the way she normally would. Just silence. A deep breath. And then she slowly said "Spencer... he's been arrested." The world tilted. Just a fraction. But it was enough.

You pressed the phone harder to your ear, thinking maybe you'd heard her wrong. "Arrested? Penelope, what are you talking about?" Your voice trembled, and your body was already reacting. Your hands started shaking, your heart started pounding and your mouth suddenly went dry.

"Murder," she said quietly. "Suspicion of murder, to be more exact. JU is already on her way to you. She'll explain more." You didn't register the words at first. Murder? Spencer? No. That made no sense. None.

You grabbed the edge of the table for support as your knees buckled slightly. The kitchen, once warm and filled with music and dreams, now felt cold. Your breath came in short, painful bursts, your chest too tight to hold the panic that suddenly clawed its way up your throat.

It had to be a mistake. It had to be. You know him. You know the way he treats people, the way he speaks about life. He's kind. He's caring. He wouldn't hurt anyone, ever. He'd rather take the fall himself than cause pain to someone else. And now... now he was sitting in a cell somewhere, scared, confused, hurt. And there was absolutely nothing you could do.

Your legs gave way and you collapsed onto the sofa, hands over your face, your whole body tight with grief and disbelief. You cried. Not softly, not quietly, but the kind of crying that comes when something inside you shatters. The kind that's filled with fear.

And through the tears, there was only one thought that repeated itself over and over, louder than the fear, louder than the chaos: I will not rest until he's with me again.

-

Now you're sitting in a hard plastic chair in the visiting room. The air smells of dust and despair, and the white walls feel like they're pressing in on you. You try to keep your hands still on the metal table, but they won't stop trembling. Your heart is thudding in your chest so loudly it drowns out the sounds around you. Voices. Footsteps. A guard coughing. None of it matters. You just want to see him.

And then, after what feels like a lifetime, the door opens. Your breath catches in your throat. And there he is. Spencer. But not the way you remember him. He looks tired, more than tired. He looks exhausted in a way that makes your heart physically ache. His hair is messy, his posture tense.

And his eyes... god, his eyes. They used to hold so much light. They sparkled when he talked about things he loved, lit up when he looked at you. But now they're dull, like someone turned down the brightness inside him. There's a heaviness in him that wasn't there before.

He sits across from you, and there's this awful piece of glass between you, keeping you apart. You want to reach out, to grab his hand, to touch his face, but you can't. You're not even allowed to do that. "You don't belong here," you whisper. Your voice is shaking. He swallows hard. It's clear that seeing you like this is tearing him apart.

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. Then finally, he speaks. "I've had a lot of time to think. About everything. And it's... not looking good. I know we just got engaged but maybe you... you shouldn't wait for me. I don't want you wasting your life on me."

It feels like the air has been punched from your lungs. You blink. Once. Twice. "That's the first thing you say to me?" Your voice is sharper than before, but it's still trembling. "You think l'd just give up on you? Because it gets hard?"

You lean forward, close as you can get without touching the glass. "Do you remember last month?" you ask. "On the roof?" He looks at you, and something shifts in his expression. A flicker of something softer. Sadder. "Of course I do." You close your eyes for a moment, as if you can relive it just by remembering.

It was one of the nights where the two of you climbed onto the roof in your apartment again. In the middle of the night, when everyone was already asleep and only a few windows were lit. You always loved it, the peace and quiet atmosphere up there. Just the sky, the stars and Spencer.

That evening, you hadn't suspected anything. You'd been tired, but Spencer persuaded you to go outside. "Come," he'd said, "just for a bit. The sky is clear today and there will be lots of shooting stars." And you'd laughed, grabbed the blanket, and climbed outside after him.

You'd lain down, the city below you, the sky above you, his hand in yours. As so often, it had been quiet. You'd simply enjoyed the moment and the closeness to each other, looking at the stars. Then he'd sat up, quite suddenly. You looked at him in surprise, but he just smiled at you - that smile you love so much.

He nervously pulled a small box out of his jacket pocket, and your heart immediately started beating faster. "You know," he had said, "I've been thinking for a long time about how I should propose to you. Whether it should be big, romantic, or spectacular... and then I realized, I actually want to do it right here. At our place.

Where we first confessed our love to each other. Under the sky we've looked at together so many times." Your eyes had swelled with tears before he'd even finished the sentence. "Because that's exactly what I want. That you lie next to me forever. On this roof, in this life, even after death - everywhere. That you stay with me, even when it rains. Even when the sky isn't always clear."

Then he got on his knee and opened the box - inside was a ring, simple, beautiful, exactly your style. "Will you marry me?" You looked at him and simply nodded. Wordlessly at first, because you couldn't speak.

Then you managed to breath out a quiet, shaky "Yes. Yes, I do," before you fell into his arms, crying. He kissed you, for a long time. And then you sat there, tightly embraced, looking at the stars. It was your moment. Real. And perfect.

Now, in this cold room with fear clinging to the both of you, you hold onto that memory like it's the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely. "I said yes," you tell him now, voice steady despite the tears in your eyes. "And I didn't just say yes to the easy parts. I said yes to everything. To you. To all of it." Spencer looks down. His shoulders shake slightly, and you know he's holding back tears.

"I love you," you continue. "And I'm not leaving. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. We're going to get through this. We're going to prove you're innocent, because you are. And when you walk out of here, I'll be standing right there, waiting for you." He doesn't speak, but you see it. His expression is breaking, crumbling, piece by piece. The fear, the pain, the helplessness, all of it giving way to something else - Hope. Fragile, but real.

"I think about our wedding every day," you say. "Even if we don't know when it'll be. It'll happen. We'll make it happen. I'll wait for you. Not because I have to. Because there's no one else I want. Just you." You smile through your tears.

And for the first time since he walked in, he smiles back. It's faint and barely there but it's real. And for now that's enough, because you'll keep fighting. For him. For you. For everything you've promised each other. And you won't stop until he's free. Until he's home. Until he's yours again.

[witherby]

I’m rly loving the whole punchline series rn, I find it so interesting like omg Wdym this small child has a more deep and fleshed out background than my oc I’ve had for 4 years??

Anyways- I’ve been thinking ever since I read the a/b/o au of punchline and LW would Damian (and maybe the other bats + Harley) try get Punchline out of that toxic stereotype that Alphas are “better” than omegas and if they do how do they try do that?

-🌻

That's very flattering! I'm playing a lot of Punchline's mannerisms by ear because she's very much not fleshed out, so it's intriguing that it reads otherwise! Fake it till you make it, baby!!!!

Great question! The bats would absolutely try to correct her line of thinking in regards to caste dynamics, both verbally and through example!

Verbally, Alfred and Damian and Tim would put in a lot of work trying to explain that she isn't any higher or lower status to somebody else just because she's an Omega. She has rights and personal agency and bodily autonomy that no one else should be allowed to dictate.

Bruce and Dick wouldn't have this conversation with her on account of being Alphas. She would just defer to whatever they said anyway, regardless of the message they mean to convey.

Jason doesn't have the patience to teach her about Omega rights when they first meet.

By example, Alfred would have her learn lessons through reading books together.

"See, Punchline? The main heroine in this book talked back to her Alpha and didn't face any punishment, because she's allowed to do that as a person with her own thoughts and feelings. Do you have any thoughts and feelings you might be afraid to share because you don't want to get hurt? I can assure you, that won't happen here."

Damian leads by example by Challenging Bruce and Dick more than usual, and makes sure she's watching. It doesn't take long for the others to catch on.

"I said," he'll growl, baring his teeth and taking an aggressive stance "I won't attend that asinine luncheon with you while my brain cells shrivel up and die around all that meaningless chatter your Socialite friends insist upon."

Bruce will narrow his eyes and glare back at him for a few moments, but then he'll relent and his body will slacken, deferring to his son.

"Fine, but you could've stood to be nicer about it."

Dick and Bruce lead by example in gentle ways. Literally. It doesn't take the world's greatest detective to see the scarring on Punchline's body and recognize that the Joker is the definition of Stereotypically-Abusive Alpha. So when they're near her, their voices are soft. They don't stand to their full height. Their hands are open and their scents are passive. If she upsets them, they're careful not to make her think she'll be hurt for it.

It's so, so, so much collaborative work. It's a ridiculous amount of work. Her whole world is being rocked and everything she thought was true is no longer so. She has to accept these changes slowly or she'll block it all out and dismiss it as a trick if they push too hard, too fast.

[samptlay]

♡ ⁠◍⁠• Skin That Cries Golden Tears • Chapter 2 ◍⁠

Chapter 1•🌑

Ah yes. How cliche. Of course, you blackout as soon as you hear the background noises of the tiny mob dying. Everything was too overwhelming at once, you couldn't fight it. You died and suddenly woke up inside a game. Not to mention you still have to process the deep feeling of betrayal left by your ex. But it honestly can't be helped. You have no idea where you'll be when you wake up and just pray it's not a jail cell. You weren't dressed in anything they were used to, you were dressed in a simple black dress that you’re sure didn’t belong in your wardrobe, it definitely wasn’t what you were wearing when you had died but it looked modern. You’re going to half to find a way to play it off, somehow.

When you first felt your body being carried, it was no surprise since it was the only way you’d be…. Well, rescued. That is what happened, right? Surely you didn’t get kidnapped. But judging by the moon being out and the cool air at the time, it couldn’t have been the Knights since all of them must have been asleep or in town based on how dark it was. So who came to your rescue? They had to use Pyro, you knew that, at least.

Red ponytail…. Pyro vision…. Night time….

You can’t possibly be this slow. It’s clearly -

“So you think the Dark-Knight Hero is the one who left her unconscious at our doorstep?” There’s no mistaking it, the owner of that soft-spoken voice was most definitely the Grand Acting Master, Jean. Your eyes were still closed telling by the sunlight hitting your skin, that you most likely spent the night there, or morning. You were completely conscious, but you wanted to know for some reason. Depending on when they noticed you outside. “Yes, there was a letter too but it flew away in the wind before I could bring it here when I picked her up.” And that absolutely had to be Diluc’s voice. Anyone smart enough would be able to tell that it was clearly him who brought you the HQ. However, Jean just sighed with a nod before looking over a particular document at her desk, which actually looked more like some type of scroll in your opinion. She kept looking back and forth between it and you.

“So, unidentified traveler, how long do you plan on faking unconsciousness?” The sudden change in his voice startles you, causing your eyes to blink open fully and take in the frowning tall man who’s crossing his arms while looking down at your figure lying on the bed.

“Oh. Sorry, I was a bit… Half-awake? I didn’t mean to eavesdrop or anything, I just-” But your words were interrupted by someone clearing their throat to which both you and Diluc turned to look at the source, Jean, of course. “It’s not that big of a deal, Diluc.” She takes a few steps towards you before raising a hand to your forehead, even moving a little hair out of your eyes. Even with her touching you, she looked somewhat wary and in your opinion, overly spectacle.

“You seem healthy. However, I am curious to know exactly what you were doing in the fields late at night. And you don’t seem like a traveler, with no weapons on you, or resources. And you clearly don’t have a companion, or am I wrong?” You catch the way she wavers in her voice as if she’s conforming to something she doesn’t want to or is even afraid to. It is exactly what she’s doing so you’re confused about why she’s nervous.

“..Yes, I’m alone. I was just… I... I don’t know how I woke up there, to be honest.” Diluc, who you had forgotten was there for a moment lets out something that sounds like a chuckle, but out of disbelief. Jean glances at the desk once more which just makes you want to get up and see what’s there for yourself. She removes her hand from your body before standing up straight up and eyeing you with something you can’t describe. She goes behind her desk and sits down.

“...”

The silence & tension in the air was so thick it could be cut with a knife. You suddenly felt the urge to sit down, as if sitting down would prove to turn you too vulnerable. So you get up, quickly. It startled the other people in the room and you swore you saw Diluc reach for his sword when he flinched, and the reaction on your face clearly said it all because he glimpsed over the sword strapped to him before visibly relaxing (at least trying to). 

“This was fun for a little but I think it’s time you c-” The Grand Acting Master is interrupted as the door flies open and you think the temperature gets a little chiller. A certain navy blue man with an eyepatch scurries in, looking like he is searching for something. His eyes scan the room in a flash before landing on you. Something about the eye contact you two made sent a shiver down your spine while his gaze lingered while he turned towards the other two in the room. “Oh! Was I interrupting something? Sorry, sorry. I heard that a particular person had shown up in the middle of nowhere and I just had to see what all the commotion was about…” The deep ocean blue eyes fall on you again. “So this is our guest?” He leans against the door frame for a moment, eyeing you up and down when he decides to stand up straight and walk (more like stride) straight in your direction. 

Real. This is all real and in fact, not some delusional dream. You pray none of them notice the way you hold your breath as he gets closer and closer, stopping at Diluc's distance, only a little closer. You can't stop the words coming out of your mouth. 

“You're-” “Kaeya.” He interrupts confidently, stretching out his hand to you. It's a good thing he said something before you mentioned his name. It would have only made you all the more suspicious. You stare at his hand that's stranded in the air for a few seconds, before he sighs and takes your own with a gentle yet strong grip, pulling it to his lips, and kissing it. A peck. Then he freezes, as if he didn't believe what or why he just did that. It wasn't really visible on his face but you could tell. You can tell a lot about everyone here, actually. And some things tell you it's not just because you know all the lore for every character. It's something you feel from the inside. 

Kaeya graciously lets your arm fall back to your side and you hope there isn’t as much blush on your face as you think there is. “Why don’t I take this fine lady throughout Mondstadt, hm? You two seem like you have more important… things to discuss about whatever just happened, unless..?” He, not aggressively, yanks you up and off what you are sitting on and starts leading you toward the door. He didn’t even wait for the two to reply. Jean gets up from her chair, hands practically slamming on the table as she pins him with a look. “Hold on Kaeya, this is dangerous. We don’t know who this is or where they came from. And here you are trying to show them around? Let them meet civilians? This is all too suspicious. You can’t just-” She shuts her eyes and makes a noise that sounds like something close to a groan. One hand on her hips. “They have to stay here. You know exactly how heavy this situation is.” Diluc, being the man he is, also glares at Kaeya, and you swear you hear a scoff from under his breath.

Kaeya, shockingly, doesn’t look back and continues dragging you along out of the head office. “I’ll bring them back, don’t worry. But I’d like this with this one by myself.” You can hear Jean and Diluc’s complaints rise but you're out of the building by the time you can make out any of their words. 

The two of you venture into the city, and you take a moment to look at everything around you. Wow. It’s much more beautiful and lively since everything is suddenly so…. Realistic. Before waking up here, it was your least favorite nation but you might consider changing your mind. Everything seems so calm and it really is less chaotic than all the other nations. It’s peaceful. “So I assume our city is to your liking? With the way your eyes are practically shining…” Your daydreaming is cut short when Kaeya stands in front of you, arms crossed, hands on his hips, looking amused out of his mind. “Well, it’s not every day you wake up in a whole new world.”

It slipped out, it really did. But you hope he doesn’t take your words literally, and you think he didn’t because he lets out a content chuckle. But then his smile drops. And you’re stuck in place. He slowly makes his way closer, then he grabs both your hands and stares you straight in the eye.

“I don’t think what I’m feeling right now is simply attraction. I have a lot of experience with that, trust me. But with you, there’s a pull. A pull that I can’t ignore. Hah, I wonder if the Red Hawk man feels it… Maybe that’s why he didn’t want you to go.”

You don’t know what to say. You have no idea why this is happening or why you’re here. And is he serious? A pull of some sort? That’s not good. Pulling means attention and that’s the last thing you need right now. Yet the way he looks at you would make anyone think the whole world revolves around you. And as of now, you have nothing. No one knows you or trusts you. You don’t know how to fight, which is very much required to survive in Teyvet. You need friends, allies, and people who are willing to defend you. And you can’t do that while simply touring around Mondstadt.

“Thank you, for this.” You step closer and you know what you want from him, what you need. You need his trust. “All of this is nice, but I’m more curious about you. I think I feel that same pull with you, to be honest. I want to get to know you better. Where do you live around here? I’m curious to see how people here live.” You’re positive you sound genuine and curious. Good. All is needed to win him over.

He looks surprised, then pleased. All before you’re suddenly tucked into his chest… And a sword is against your throat. You gawk at it, squirming. That wasn’t the smartest thing to do, which caused him to press it against your throat even more. “I might be captivated by you, but I’m not as stupid as you think. Now… Why would anyone try and get into someone's home when they’ve barely known that for a couple of hours? Unless, that certain someone has a plan, of course. I took what Master Jean said to heart. For all I know you could be dangerous. I’ve been watching you closely the whole time. It’s as if you’ve never seen something like a regular town. There are even more impressive ones all over Teyvet. You know what that tells me?”

You know exactly what he’s implying and you feel like you could throw up your organs. Were you going to lose your second chance so easily? 

He turns you slightly and you’re finally facing him. Expect all the warmth is gone. His gaze is as cold as his vision and you’re no longer sure if you’ll be able to try and gain him as a companion, let alone civil allies. The sword across your neck is making you start to throb in pain and you’re sure it’s going to leave either a cut or a mark. It hurts.

You can feel Kaeya’s breath against your neck.

“Who are you?” 

Suddenly, there’s a bright flash and you’re temporarily blinded, and Kaeya’s holding his left arm up. You can see some blood seeping through. It looks like it’s the same size as the one he created on your neck. But yours is gone.

He’s breathing heavily, confused. Kaeya’s barely standing on his two feet, he’s dizzy. Even though he just practically attempted on your life, you couldn’t blame him for it. He doesn’t trust others. He can’t, it’s not what he’s here for. You don’t know how you get to him so quickly, throwing one of his arms around your shoulder. He seems to be in a more… fatal condition than you were. It’s like he took your injury, only intensified. You have to get him aid. But then again, if you go to anyone else, there’s a good chance you’ll be locked up. You don’t want to imagine an interrogation right now. So, you look at the poor man in your arms and speak softly. You hope that gets you some points, at least.

“Where do you live, Kaeya?” He barely opens his eyelids, having a look on his face that’s in between exhaustion and uncertainty. You think he’s about to shake his head before he blurts it out, surprising the both of you. Now he’s the one gawking at you since you go in the actually direction of his home. How did you even know your way around? That took away some points, didn’t it?

A/N:

A little over two weeks, my apologies. Time flies, 1.5x longer!! Yippeeeee ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ I'll get to that Masterlist...

Taglist: Sorry if I tagged you twice!

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Borders by @cafekitsune

[dorabellingham]

Touch me

warnings: Sexual insinuations

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when your boyfriend is playing GTA but you have better ideas

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a quiet night in Jude's apartment. The sound of video game controls filled the room as his friends played GTA in the living room, but he was completely oblivious to what was happening on the screen. His focus was all on you, who was sitting next to him on the couch, playing on your cell phone, a little distracted, but always aware of his presence. Every time he moved or brought his body closer, you felt a soft shiver, as if he knew exactly what was coming. He couldn't take his eyes off you, and there was a tension in the air, something that hovered between the two of you, an energy that made everything around you seem slower, less important. He leaned in a little, putting his arm around your shoulders, and you looked at him with a smile that was half shy, half teasing.

—You know exactly what you're doing to me, right?

He murmured, his hand now resting on your thigh, his fingers lightly touching the soft skin beneath your shorts. You chuckled softly, leaning a little closer.

—I think so. And you know I am too.

He knew. I always knew. From the first moment he laid eyes on you, he knew you were unlike anyone else he had ever met. You weren't just pretty. It was the confidence, the way you laughed at him, like he was just another ordinary kid — but at the same time, it was everything for you. And it drove him crazy.

—Have I told you that I'm completely crazy about you?

Jude asked, the words coming out easily now.

—Yes, a few times. But I never get tired of listening.

You smiled, leaning in until your lips brushed his, a soft, almost imperceptible touch that made him move even closer.

The moment was hot, electric, even with the friends' confusion in the background. He held your face with one hand, while the other continued to caress your leg, as if he couldn't stop touching.

—You have me in a way that no one else does, you know?

—I know —You replied, whispering between the touch of your lips, a soft tease that made him want more. —And the best thing is that you like it.

Jude offers, a smile full of intention, and pulls you closer, your mouths finally meeting for real, the kiss soft at first, but soon gained intensity, as if neither of them could hold back any longer. It was like being on edge, no longer able to deny what I felt. The pressure between you, the desire that had been growing, everything was there, in every touch, every kiss.

—Dude, are you going to play or not? — one of the friends connected over the phone line.

Jude was late, panting, but with a smile on his face. He looked at you, and you both laughed softly.

—I think I'm too busy here.

—Go there. I'll be here when you're done.

You said, giving him a wink and adjusting yourself on the couch, clearly knowing that you were teasing him. But he didn't move. He just stood there, knowing that no matter what happened around him, he wouldn't be able to get your attention.

It was you, and it always would be.