#Because he trusted him even after everything had been unraveled!!

[youngeditor1999]

The fact that Felix believed Oliver over Farleigh about Venetia...

Like, Felix.

Felix. 😩😭😔

He trusted Oliver that much; to the point where he believed a man he had only known for less than a year over a cousin that he had known his whole. Life. A cousin who was more like a brother to him when it came down to it!!

His blind trust in Oliver is ultimately what lead to his downfall.

[thewulf]

Forever Yours || Paul Lahote

Summary: Request -Okay so reader is Bella's (fraternal) twin sissy. She moved to Forks with Bella and the whole first book happens WITHOUT her knowing what's going on. She's just as in the dark as Charlie is..... Read Rest Here

A/N: LOVED THIS. LOVE TWILIGHT. Keep them coming!! Thank you for the requests as always!

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Swan Sister Reader

Word Count: 4.0k

TW: Possessiveness

You and your sister, Bella, had always gotten along well even being so different. She was the shy twin who always stood behind you. You on the other hand always fought Bella’s battles because she needed it, that’s what sisters were for. The two of you weren’t identical, and your personalities could not have been more different. Yet, at the end of the day, she was the person you knew would always understand you. She was your best friend and confidant. So, when she proposed moving back in with Charlie you followed along with her.

Things changed when the two of you moved to Forks and not in a way you liked. She began distancing herself from you after she met Edward. Instead of coming home and gossiping about your respective days she started going to the Cullen’s house. She stopped telling you things. She became protective and oh so secretive over her boyfriend. You confided in Charlie more than you could ever expect. You hung out with Jessica and Angela more than you would’ve ever dreamed. Still, you looked after your sister. She was the shy one who fell hard and fast. For whatever reason you just couldn’t seem to trust Edward. When she finally let the two of you meet he was just off and you couldn’t seem to pinpoint what it was.

It wasn't until the departure of Edward Cullen, leaving Bella desolate and shattered, that the mysterious shroud enveloping your lives began to unravel at a rapid pace. As Bella struggled to navigate through the abyss of heartbreak, you tried your hardest to be the strength that she needed. But it often felt like you were failing her. Like nothing you could say would offset any of the heartbreak she was feeling. And you were angry. Angry at the stupid family that decided to vanish without a trace. For even though Edward seemed off he seemed like he truly was deeply in love with your sister.

Your only saving grace was your old friend Jacob. He found a way to bring your shattered twin back to the surface of the water she was struggling to swim in. The three of you spent so many nights together doing everything and nothing at the same time. Laughing till your faces were blue and finding the human connection she so desperately needed. You could never thank him enough for bringing back your sister you had lost for so many months.

But even that wasn’t enough for him to leave. When Jacob withdrew from both of your lives you became the sad twin. It was Bella who became angry like you were so many months prior. Bella forced you in the truck one afternoon claiming she had a bone to pick with the second boy who abandoned her in so many months. You had no desire to see the boy, but Bella demanded you come with her.

You watched as she pounded on the door of his home only to be met with nothing. You waited in the truck as Bella noticed Sam and his pack off to the side of Jacob’s home. Her footsteps treaded the path towards Sam and his pack, heart pounding with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. It was only when you saw her physically push Sam, the leader of the tribe, did you bolt out of the car trying to catch your sister from doing anything too drastic.

"Bella, stop!" you cried out, your voice tinged with desperation as you rushed forward. Your heart was hammering desperately in your chest, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within you as you reached out towards Bella, hoping to stop the impending confrontation.

But it was too late. Bella's palm has already met one of the dark-haired boys cheeks with a sharp crack, the sound reverberating through the trees. You watch in dismay as the man’s expression darkened. His features contorted with fury, a primal growl rumbling in his chest that even startled you. The forest seemed to hold its breath as the world became silent at what the next move of the man could possibly be. You gulped feeling the tension thick in the air.

And then in the midst of the events that were unfolding you looked to the men in front of you looking at each of them one by one before your eyes finally met the one who had just been slapped. His gaze locked onto yours, a fleeting moment of connection amidst the tumult that surrounded you. In that instant, everything seemed to crystallize, the world narrowing down to just the two of you even with all the people surrounding you.

Timed seemed to slow to an utter crawl. The world around you faded into insignificance as your attention was locked in on the man. A sharp gasp came from you as you continued staring right at him. It was a feeling you had never experienced in this lifetime. Something you could never have expected. He too couldn’t seem to break his gaze away from yours. In that fleeting instant, everything seems to shift. The air crackled with anticipation, the forest holding its breath as the weight of the moment bears down upon you. It's as if the universe itself has paused, allowing you and Paul to exist in a suspended state of existence, isolated from the disorder that rages beyond the confines of your shared gaze.

As the boy who captured your heart and soul with just a single look staggered backwards, a whirlwind of emotions courses through his mind each feeling vying for dominance over the others. Anger, once burning bright within him, now dissipates like mist in the morning sun, leaving behind a hollow sense of bewilderment and wonder. His chest heaves with the effort of controlling the torrent of feelings threatening to overwhelm him. He had felt every single emotion. Saw every single emotion. You were her. You were his imprint. Only Sam had been so lucky to have found his person. And now he did. And he didn’t even know her name nor you his.

To your surprise you felt your feet moving forward as he dropped to his knees on the forest floor. Pauk was acutely aware of the weight of this moment. He had to wonder what you were feeling. You too were locked in on his own eyes, yet you could have no idea what was going on and how chaotic your seemingly normal life was about to get. But amidst the heaviness of the moment, there is something else—a glimmer of hope, a spark of possibility that ignites within him like a flame in the darkness. For in your eyes, he sees not just a reflection of his own turmoil, but also a flicker of understanding, a shared recognition of the bond that now binds the two of you together.

"What... what just happened?" Bella's voice wavers, her eyes wide with disbelief as she looks between you and the man she just slapped. But you have no answers to offer, you were just as confused as she was. While Bella's voice wavers with disbelief, her eyes dart between you and the surrounding men, searching for answers amidst the bewildering scene.

Embry, who had been standing nearby with Sam, catches your eye with a knowing smirk, a hint of understanding dancing in his gaze. He stepped forward, as if he's seen this scenario play out before. "Looks like we've got ourselves an imprint," Embry remarks, his voice tinged with amusement as he addresses Sam, who watches the unfolding scene with a composed yet cautious demeanor.

Sam nods in acknowledgment, his expression unreadable as he assesses the situation before him. His eyes shifted between you and Paul with a measured intensity, as if gauging the depth of the bond that now connects you.

Meanwhile, the boy you had originally came to see, Jacob, came sprinting out of the house that he had just ignored Bella from. His expression a mix of surprise and concern as he takes in the scene before him. His eyes narrow as they settle on Paul, a flicker of protectiveness crossing his features before he turns to you, his look softening with understanding in your utter confusion. Yet in all that was happening so fast you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from this man. He had captured your mind, body, and soul all within a single look.

"Y/N, are you okay?" Jacob asks, his voice gentle yet tinged with worry as he approaches, his footsteps echoing against the damp grass.

You finally tore your gaze away from Paul somehow, your heart racing as you meet Jacob's concerned gaze. Despite the frenzy that surrounds you, his presence offers a sense of comfort, a reminder of the unwavering support that has always been there for you, negating the two weeks he had decided to ignore you for.

"I don't know what happened," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper as you try to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions that flowed through you so unexpectedly. "But I feel... different."

Bella's eyes widen in disbelief, her mind racing to comprehend the incomprehensible. But amidst the uncertainty that envelops you all, one thing remains clear—the ties that bind you to Paul, are unbreakable, defying logic and reason with an undeniable force.

"Jacob," Sam's voice cuts through the silence, his tone firm yet tinged with a hint of urgency. "Take them to Emily's. We need to talk." He motions towards Paul who was still on his knees before you.

Jacob nods in acknowledgment, his gaze flickering between you, Paul, and Sam, a silent understanding passing between them. He moves forward, his hand reaching out to gently guide you away from Paul, his touch reassuring in the confusion that surrounds you.

"Come on, Y/N, Bella," Jacob murmurs softly, "Let's go."

As Jacob reaches out to guide you away from Paul, a low, guttural growl rumbles deep within Paul's chest just as it had earlier after Bella has slapped him. His possessiveness flaring in the face of Jacob's touch. His eyes narrow, a primal instinct driving him to protect what he now considers his own.

"Hands off my girl," Paul's voice is low, but the irritated edge to it is unmistakable as he stands to takes a step towards you. His eyes never left yours. The intensity of his declaration sends a shiver down your spine, his unwavering stare holding you in a trance.

But Sam, ever the voice of reason among the sea of emotions, steps forward with a measured stride. His expression unwavering as he addresses Paul with a firm yet understanding tone. “Paul, calm down," Sam's voice carries authority, tempered with a hint of empathy as he meets Paul's frustration head-on. "We need to talk, separately. She will be just fine with Jacob."

Paul's protest is immediate, his feelings for you overwhelmingly strong. "No, she's not going anywhere without me," he insists, his voice tinged with desperation as he takes a defiant step forward, his resolve unyielding.

But Sam's gaze holds steady, his alpha like authority asserting itself in the face of Paul's defiance. "Paul, stand down," he commands, his voice brooking no argument as he meets Paul's gaze with unwavering determination. Paul winces but gives into Sam’s demands, though the reluctance is evident in the tension that lingers in his frame. His eyes remain locked on you, a silent promise of protection and devotion burning brightly within their depths.

While Jacob leads you away from Paul you can't help but feel torn between the conflicting desires that rage within you. Part of you longs to stay by Paul's side, to bask in the warmth of his unwavering love. While another part recognizes the need for clarity and understanding in the sheer confusion that threatens to consume you. And as you and Bella follow Jacob through the dense undergrowth of the forest you can't shake the feeling of Paul's presence lingering at the edges of your consciousness, a constant reminder of the inexplicable bond that now defines your existence.

Jacob guides you and Bella through a trail in the forest, a heavy silence hangs in the air, punctuated only by the rustling of leaves and the distant calls of unseen creatures. Sensing the need to break the tension, Jacob takes a deep breath before breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Look, I need to tell you both something," Jacob begins, his voice cautious yet resolute. "But it's going to sound... well, it's going to sound crazy."

You and Bella exchange a puzzled glance, the weight of Jacob's words settling uneasily in the pit of your stomachs. You've both sensed that there's more to the Quileute tribe than meets the eye, but the truth remains shrouded in mystery.

Jacob takes a moment to gather his thoughts before coming out with it. "The thing is... we're not exactly... normal," he admits, his words halting as he struggles to find the right way to explain the inexplicable. "We're... werewolves."

The revelation hangs in the air like a heavy fog, enveloping you and Bella in a cloud of disbelief. For a moment, neither of you can find the words to respond, the enormity of Jacob's confession leaving you speechless. "Werewolves?" Bella's voice is barely above a whisper, her eyes wide with shock as she looks to Jacob for confirmation.

Jacob nods solemnly, his expression grave as he meets Bella's gaze. "Yes. And there's something else. Something called imprinting."

You nodded along, “That’s what the one guy just said. We’ve got ourselves an imprint? What is that?” You asked pressing him further.

Jacob smiled knowing that your life was going to change, hopefully for the better. "It's when a wolf finds their soulmate. Their other half. The one person they're meant to be with for the rest of their lives." Bella's brow furrows in confusion, her mind struggling to comprehend the magnitude of what Jacob is telling her. But you, on the other hand, feel a strange sense of recognition stir within you, a faint echo of the inexplicable connection you felt with Paul.

As Bella sighs with uncertainty, Jacob senses the weight of her confusion and seeks to provide clarity. "And... and what does that have to do with what happened back there?" Bella asks, her voice laden with hesitance as she gestures back in the direction of Paul and the pack.

Jacob's gaze flickers towards you, a silent acknowledgment passing between you as he prepares to reveal the truth. "It means that... Paul imprinted on you, Y/N," he explains gently, his eyes filled with compassion as he meets your bewildered gaze. "He's your soulmate."

“Paul.” You whispered his name out loud for the first time. Paul, your soulmate. Your heart skips a beat at the revelation, the words sinking in slowly as you struggle to comprehend the enormity of what Jacob is saying. Soulmates? It's a concept you never thought you'd entertain, let alone experience firsthand.

"Soulmate?" Bella's voice echoes your thoughts, her eyes widening in astonishment as she turns to you for confirmation.

You nod slowly, the reality of the situation beginning to sink in. "I... I don't understand it all," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you grapple with the implications of Jacob's words as the three of you walked through the forest to what you assumed to be Emily’s place, whomever that was.

Jacob offers you a reassuring smile, his expression filled with understanding. "It's okay, Y/N. I know it's a lot to take in," he says softly, his tone gentle yet firm. "An imprint is... it's like finding your other half. Your perfect match. And for Paul, that's you."

Bella's eyes widen in realization, her mind racing to process the revelation. "So... he's bound to her? Like... forever?" she asks, her voice tinged with uncertainty as she seeks to grasp the intricacies of the imprinting process.

Jacob nods solemnly. "Yeah. It's a permanent bond," he explains, his tone heavy with the weight of the truth. "But it doesn't have to be romantic. It can be... it can be like a best friend too. Someone who's always there for you, no matter what."

The realization washes over you like a tidal wave, the enormity of the situation sinking in as you come to terms with the truth of Paul's imprint. It's a bond that transcends the boundaries of time and space, forging a connection between two souls that can never be broken.

And as you walked surrounded by the whispering of the trees and the steady presence of Jacob by your side, you find yourself beginning to accept the truth of your newfound destiny. The road ahead may be filled with uncertainty, but with the unwavering support of your sister and the friendship of Jacob, you know that you'll face whatever challenges may come your way head-on.

As you, Bella, and Jacob step into Emily's cozy kitchen, the aroma of freshly baked muffins envelops you, a comforting contrast to the whirlwind of emotions swirling within. Emily's warm smile greets Jacob, her eyes alight with joy as she rushes forward to embrace him.

"Jacob, it's been too long!" Emily exclaims, her voice filled with genuine affection as she pulls back to look at him.

Jacob returns her embrace, offering a sheepish grin. "I know, Em. It's good to see you," he replies warmly.

Emily's gaze then shifts to you and Bella, her smile widening as she takes in your presence. "And who do we have here?" she asks, her tone friendly and inviting.

Jacob gestures towards you and Bella. "Emily, this is Y/N and Bella Swan," he introduces, a sense of pride evident in his voice. "They're new to town, and we thought I'd bring them by to meet you." He spoke referencing the pack as a whole. It was intriguing watching him operate now that you knew why he up and disappeared on you those weeks ago.

Emily's eyes widen with recognition as she looks at Bella. "Ah, the Swan sisters! Charlie's girls. I’ve heard a lot about you two," she remarks with a knowing nod. Then her gaze shifts to Bella, and her expression changes to one of surprise. "And you're the vampire girl, aren't you?"

Your heart nearly stops at Emily's words, the revelation hitting you like a sudden jolt. Vampire girl? You exchange a bewildered glance with Bella, who looks equally taken aback. Edward was a vampire? What next… mermaids?

"What? Bella? Vampires?" you stammer, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you struggle to comprehend Emily's words.

Bella's face turns crimson, her embarrassment palpable as she shoots you an apologetic glance. Her eyes told you that she would explain it all later. "Emily, I'm so sorry," she begins, her voice tinged with mortification. "Y/N, this is... um... kind of a long story."

As the truth about vampires and the supernatural world of Forks begins to unfold, you can't help but feel overwhelmed by the enormity of it all. But amidst the confusion and embarrassment, there's a sense of shared understanding that together you'll navigate the challenges that lie ahead. As the conversation continues in Emily's kitchen, laughter and chatter filling the air, the sound of approaching footsteps draws your attention. Sam, Paul, and Embry enter the room, their expressions relaxed and jovial as they exchange banter with Jacob.

"Hey, look who decided to join the party!" Jacob teases, a playful grin spreading across his face as he greets his packmates.

Sam chuckles, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Couldn't stay away, could we?" he retorts, a hint of mischief in his voice as he exchanges friendly jabs with Jacob.

Paul's gaze finds yours amidst the commotion, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Y/N," he says, his voice gentle yet earnest as he steps forward, his eyes meeting yours with a depth of emotion that leaves you breathless.

"Paul," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you meet his gaze, a rush of anticipation coursing through you at the prospect of speaking with him alone.

Sensing the unspoken tension between you and Paul, Jacob steps forward with a knowing smile. "I'll leave you two to get to know each other," he says, his tone light yet meaningful as he gives you a subtle nod of encouragement.

As Jacob and the others retreat away from the kitchen to give you and Paul some privacy, you find yourselves alone in the midst of Emily's bustling kitchen. The air crackles with anticipation as Paul takes a step closer, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that sets your heart racing. "Y/N, I wanted to talk to you," Paul begins, his voice soft yet filled with determination as he gathers his thoughts. "About what happened earlier. About us. If that’s okay with you."

You swallow hard, the weight of Paul's words hanging heavy in the air as you search for the right response. "Paul, I... I don't even know where to begin," you admit, your voice trembling with uncertainty as you struggle to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions that threaten to overwhelm you completely.

But Paul reaches out, his hand finding yours with a gentle touch that sends a shiver down your spine. "We'll figure it out together, Y/N," he says, his voice filled with conviction. "Whatever happens, I'll always be here for you. I promise you that."

As you stand there, enveloped in the warmth of Paul's presence, a soft blush tinges your cheeks as you struggle to find the right words to express the swirl of emotions coursing through you. Your heart races with anticipation, your thoughts a jumble of uncertainty and longing. "This is all a lot," you murmur softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you meet his gaze with a shy smile. "But it's a good thing you're so... so handsome." You weren’t sure where that surge of confidence came from, maybe it was the bond. But even you couldn’t deny the sheer beauty of the man that stood before you. You feel a rush of exhilaration mixed with nervousness, unsure of how Paul will respond to your flirty compliment.

Paul's expression shifts, a mischievous twinkle dancing in his eyes as he leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Is that your way of saying you think I'm cute, Y/N?" he teases, his voice low and husky.

You bite your lip, a playful glint in your eyes as you meet his gaze. "Maybe," you reply coyly, a hint of flirtatiousness creeping into your tone as you lean in closer to him. "You'll just have to stick around to find out."

As a smirk tugs at the corners of Paul's lips, his gaze intensifies, locking onto yours with a magnetic pull that leaves you breathless. You feel a surge of anticipation coursing through your veins as he leans in even closer, the air crackling with electricity between you.

"Oh, I intend to, pretty girl" Paul murmurs, his voice a low rumble that sends shivers ripping through your body. His words are filled with promise, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he closes the distance between you, his breath warm against your skin. “Don’t you worry about that.”

A soft gasp escapes your lips as Paul's hand gently cups your cheek, his touch sending waves of warmth cascading through you. Your heart pounds in your chest as his lips brush against yours in a tantalizing whisper, a feather-light caress that ignites a fire deep within your soul.

"You're so beautiful, Y/N Swan," Paul whispers against your lips, his voice filled with sincerity and admiration. "I can't help but be drawn to you. I’m forever yours pretty girl."

The sweetness of his words sends your heart soaring, a rush of euphoria washing over you as you lose yourself in the intoxicating embrace of his affection. In that moment, all doubts and fears melt away, leaving only the undeniable connection between you and Paul, a bond forged in the flames of desire and longing. And as you surrender to the irresistible pull of his embrace, you can't help but feel a sense of bliss wash over you. With Paul by your side, you know that the journey ahead will be filled with laughter, passion, and endless moments of pure, unadulterated love.

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[bromcommie]

tbh I still think Brock Rumlow was an interesting character and upon further examination way more unsettling a villain than most to me because like. Let’s be real, the second you lay eyes on Robert Redford as Pierce monologuing in his pristine suit and glass office high up in the sky he just screams Evil Politician! at you. You can see it coming a mile away. Meanwhile Rumlow is….Just Some Guy. On the surface, he’s just some side dude. He’s not enhanced, he’s not in some major position of power, he’s just someone who’s really good at what he does and seems dedicated enough to the work and functions well with his team. He respects Steve, might admire him even, but not so much that he gets starry eyed like everybody else. He’s lighthearted but focused, he’s no nonsense, he’s the everyman Steve can relate to way more than spooks like Natasha or Fury.

And okay, maybe what Rumlow does for a living is beat intimidate and kill people, but it’s not like that’s the primary objective, right, because SHIELD are the good guys and this is what Steve does now, too, anyway; except that Steve doesn’t really use any weapons other than the shield, he holds back, he doesn’t carry a gun anymore which is usually fine since he’s dangerous enough without it. But when that leaves him vulnerable, he’s covered: Rumlow’s got his six, and he does it well, and he earns some of his trust. This is familiar to Steve.

And maybe Rumlow’s a little too good, fine, maybe he shoots a guy in the head within the first fifteen minutes of the movie when he doesn’t necessarily have to and then cracks jokes immediately after but that’s alright too, because that guy had Steve at gunpoint and that guy was Bad whereas Rumlow is One of the Good Guys just doing his job, right. Rumlow’s joking around because he’s used to the violence, they’re all used to it, and this is just how it works. They’re just soldiers doing the grunt work and following orders, and this is familiar, too.

Except that they’re not soldiers and this isn’t a war, except that the work is for an intelligence agency whose job it is to hoard and steal information and monitor civilians and orchestrate and sabotage and meddle in internal and external state affairs. Except that the Good Guys, in reality, are extremely grey at best. Except that many of the Good Guys turn out to be Nazis on top of everything else, and it’s not that far of a stretch.

But when it’s all starting to unravel, you’re still thinking well maybe some of these guys didn’t know. Maybe they didn’t do it out of individual belief, and if faced with the right choice, they can be redeemed.

That is until you realize that Rumlow maybe didn’t respect Steve and what he did so much as what Steve could do if only Steve weren’t “weak” in other ways, if Steve had chosen the right side. That it not being personal is less a cop out and more a taunt the same way just following orders has always been, for Rumlow and many many men that came before him and will continue to come after. Until the vault when, by the most charitable of interpretations, Rumlow looks at the Winter Soldier letting himself be smacked around and crying and getting shocked like he’s maybe a little unnerved (if not just downright fascinated) by the whole thing, but not enough that it really changes anything for him, because the end justifies the means and it’s not really his problem, anyway.

Until Sam shows up and Rumlow looks at him like a bird of prey and says This is gonna hurt with a fucking smile on his face, and then you think: shit, man, obviously. How was it not clear from the start.

To me, what makes someone like Rumlow a good villain, even a side one, is not that he’s straight up Insane & Evil™️ or suffering from Tragic Backstory Syndrome or all hopped up on magic superstrength juice or whatever, but precisely the fact that he’s Just Some Guy with a cockroach survival mentality who operates well within the established system and just so happens to be really good at his job - a job that he might’ve even joined thinking it was for a good cause, or because he had something to prove, or simply because it gave him one hell of an excuse to be a bully. Because he either wholeheartedly believes in HYDRA or he just doesn’t give much of a shit either way so long as he gets his due in the end, and both are just as bad.

Because when you strip away all the grand scale superhero theatrics, you’ve seen this before. You’ve seen Rumlows in your school and in your neighborhood and in the military and the cop car patrolling your street. They’re the ones who sometimes say or do somewhat offputting shit but you figure it’s fine because they’re otherwise real nice or charismatic or normal looking, or maybe they work a job that’s framed as helpful or protective or inherently good despite the power dynamics at play, or they share your background and interests and you chat about the weather being crap this time of year.

And every time one of them turns out to be a violent, hateful piece of shit, you’re still somehow surprised then, too, when you really shouldn’t be.

[fourmoony]

Just thinking about Sirius trusting reader enough to do his hair :,) or maybe she experiments with putting his hair in curlers/curling it. I could even imagine Sirius owning a Dyson airwrap to have the best blowouts 😭💀

Sirius would 100000% own the dyson air wrap!!! Thanks for requesting, babe!

cw: none

750 words, modern au

You're not sure where Sirius learned his money managing skills from (or if he even has any), but the pleased smile and child-like excitement over his brand new hair dryer is something you refuse to admonish. Though, you're sure even if you tried, you'd fail.

Your boyfriend bounces happily on the balls of his feet, hair sopping wet and plastered to his face. Water droplets seep into his grey shirt but Sirius doesn't seem to care. Not when he's too busy making bedroom eyes at the unopened box on the bathroom counter. He'd been so happy when John Lewis finally had the Dyson Air Wrap back in stock, had dragged you out of bed this morning to drop an easy five hundred quid on it. Your head had spun with the realisation of just how rich your boyfriend actually is.

He's not flashy with his money. Irresponsible, yes. But being there to witness a classic Sirius-Black-Irresponsible-Purchase had really solidified the knowledge that your boyfriend is filthy rich.

"Okay, I'll grab a stool and you set it up." He says, turning to make for the stool that sits under your dressing table.

"Wait, you want me to do it?" You yell after him.

Sirius makes noise everywhere he goes. He's loud and abrasive, jagged around the edges. He loves so loud that it only makes sense his entire personality is the same. There's thumps and grumbles as he bumps into things all the way along the hall, the tell tale sounds of the stool scraping along your freshly painted hallway. "Well who else would do it?" Sirius rounds the corner, flashes his teeth in a wide grin that he knows will make you fold.

"What makes you think I'm qualified?"

Sirius shrugs, "The fact that I'm one hundred percent not. You're good at everything, sweetness."

He knows flattery works like a charm, especially when he pairs it with his best flirty eyes. You sigh, reaching for the box and unravelling all of the corresponding pieces. It's high tech, incredibly high tech. Sirius fidgets on the stool as you watch a video on your phone, lips curled between your teeth in concentration.

It takes a while to get the hang of, and you're sure you'll get better in time. Sirius softens and relaxes as much as he ever allows himself to as your fingers work through his hair, as you brush and comb and dry it. He hums and sighs and even closes his eyes. It's peaceful and intimate and it allows you to come to a startling realisation that Sirius has never asked you to do his hair for him before.

He's not prissy about his hair. He'll let anyone touch it. He actually begs for people to play with his hair. But he's never outright asked you to fix it up for him, prefers to get it sitting perfect by himself because he believes it to be his best asset. You'd have to disagree with him on that. His eyes never fail to amaze you, nor his smile.

"All done." Your voice seems to pull him out of a daydream.

His eyes open and he smiles wide, turning in the stool in an instant until he can take your hands in his. "Bad news, sweetheart, you're going to have to do this every day." He informs you, standing until his hands can reach your hips.

He pulls you into him, a little roughly, but catches you with his own body, lips ducking down to press to your forehead. You resist the urge to tell him you'd be happy to do his hair every day, if only to feel the intimacy and pride of being the one person he trusts to style his hair.

"Such a travesty." You feign indifference, lips pressed to his collar bone where it peeks out of his shirt.

Sirius shivers at the contact. "Easy, sweetness. I know my hair is super hot and stuff, but we have dinner reservations with James and Remus. They'll get pissy if we cancel to have sex."

"Again." He adds after a second.

You scoff, pushing your boyfriend away whilst he barks with laughter. Heat creeps up your neck as you exit the bathroom, ignoring Sirius' shouts down the hallway that he could make an exception for a quickie.

"Thanks, baby!" He calls a moment later.

You can't fight the smile that toys at your lips as you pick out an outfit for dinner.

[dramioneasks]

Top 10 Most “Kudos-ed” (Completed) Fics on AO3 of 2023:

Damaged Goods by slytherin_after_dark - E, 50 chapters, Words: 150,499 - Hermione, now in her mid-20s, is back at Hogwarts to pursue higher education. Trying to forget the trauma carved into her by the war, she spends one lust-filled night with a certain pureblood. But that night will have consequences. While her personal life unravels, a string of mysterious murders forces her to work together with Draco Malfoy, who himself seems to carry many secrets. "He scared her. Not because he wielded killing curses like they were nothing, but because he seemed to understand her in a way that even she didn’t. The more she let him in, the more power he had to destroy her." Come for the smut, stay for the plot. Read if you like: - Murder mystery - Dark Arts - Hurt/ Comfort - Hermione and Draco both deal with PTSD - Angst, so much angst

In These Silent Days by HeyJude19 - E, 14 chapters, Words: 67,209 -Hermione is familiar with fighting: for respect, for attention, for justice. She’s even made a career of it; working on behalf of creatures and beings. But her battle against the Ministry’s marriage law is one she loses. Badly. And now, she has to contend with not only public derision and patriarchal politics, but her growing feelings for her government-mandated spouse.

The Silver Envelope by sinflower81 - E, 70 chapters, Words: 192,647 - “Tell me again to release you, Granger. Tell me again that you just want to be friends.” It’s been five years since Draco last spoke to Granger. Things are different now, and though earning her trust will be a challenge, he can’t seem to keep himself away. Hermione has been busy advocating for elves around the world, but when her breakup with Ron turns her life upside-down, she knows there’s only one person who can help her. Alternating POVs between Hermione and Draco. Slow burn, eventual smut, light dom/sub. Diverges from canon after Voldemort's defeat.

In Silence & Submission by gillianeliza - E, 29 chapters, Words: 69,694 - 10 years after the war everything has changed. Enemies turned into friends and lovers. Fear turned into hope. Pain into joy. Everyone has moved on except for Hermione Granger. Nestled within her friend group, now made up of not just Harry and Ginny, but also Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and of course Draco Malfoy, she was content to allow the trauma of her past to haunt her. More than just content - it was what she felt she deserved - until one evening Draco Malfoy decided enough was enough. This is a low stakes, split POV fic that deals heavily with life AFTER the Battle of Hogwarts. You will find the POV of either Hermione or Draco stated in bold italics, in the middle whenever it shifts. Please read all tags as this work deals with BDSM, kink, trauma recovery, & suicidal ideation.

A Game of High Stakes by In_Dreams - E, 51 chapters, Words: 263,110 - In theory, the task is simple: kill Draco Malfoy. In practice, putting a curse through the Dark Lord's favoured lieutenant will take everything Hermione has―especially since he's trying to kill her, too. Even more so when the lines between them start to blur. Sometimes, the only way out is through.

Hogwarts: A History (Hermione's Version) by Lizzie_carlile - M, 38 chapters, Words: 141,828 - Lord Voldemort has been defeated, and the children of the Wizarding War are thriving. When the heir to the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black is adopted and takes her place in the family with her loving fathers, a new trio is formed. With her best friend and her brother by her side, Hermione Black is thrust into a world that she never knew existed. Will whispers from the past threaten to destroy the world she knows? Or will love once again conquer all? Another take of the Nice Things AU. What would happen if Draco asked Hermione to the Yule Ball before Ron Weasley had a chance to?

Teach Me How to Forget by scullymurphy - E, 20 chapters, Words: 109,646 - Hermione Granger is 27 years old when her life falls apart. Cheated-on, flatless, fed up with her job, she decides to change one thing she can--take a class and try for some career advancement. But change is never easy, especially when an old enemy is the catalyst. And the class instructor. "Just as the minute hand clicked over to the hour, the doorknob twisted and a figure slipped into the room. He was tall, a bit windblown. Hermione had a general impression of crisp cuffs and polished leather, and then a more specific one of the most beautiful grey coat—highlighting his shoulders and eyes, skimming to just the right place on his knife creased trousers. His movements were precise and confident. He was wearing the softest-looking gloves. He was not Professor Belinda Rowle. He was Draco bloody Malfoy."

The Order of Serpents by bl_crtz - E, 44 chapters, Words: 193,506 - During the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry Potter walked into the forbidden forest, died, and walked out with crimson eyes as the new vessel of the Dark Lord. Since then, Hermione Granger served as an elite member of the True Order, isolating herself from other Order members and going on missions alone, not only haunted by the loss of her best friend, Harry, but Ron who had run away after the battle. Three and a half years later, Draco Malfoy shows up with his two year old son on the Order’s doorstep seeking to switch sides. Together, Draco and Hermione are forced to deal with not only each other, but their own past and confront who they’ve become because of the war.

The Contender by rubykrishna - E, 9 chapters, Words: 58,875 - Hermione stopped walking. Her eyes scanned back up the roster until they found the name that she initially mistook for a typo. Draco Malfoy….Beater. She could comprehend the words, the name and the meaning. She understood that his name being on the roster meant he was the starting Beater for England’s national team, but for whatever reason, when her eyes ran over the black ink, her brain could not articulate any emotions or reaction. 

Sincerely Yours by LovesBitca8 - E, 10 chapters, Words: 40,759 - A smile tickled the corners of Hermione’s mouth as she clicked Send. She listened to the whoosh of the message and then turned off her computer. When the ping! had come in, she’d had one foot half-out the door of her flat. She’d dropped her coat and darted for her computer desk, a wide grin blossoming at her inbox. You’ve Got Mail.

[bangtangalicious]

nexus (m) part 6

pairing: jungkook x reader, taehyung x reader ft. hobi x reader, namjoon x reader, yoongi x reader

smut: taehyung x reader, jungkook x reader, some hobi x reader

premise: a notorious casino conglomerate took you in when you were young. you grew up alongside their sons; inseparable from the oldest, infatuated with the middle, and engaged to the youngest. after a shocking murder, a detective with a vendetta drags you into unraveling a web of dangerous lies that cause you to question who you trust, and who you love

genre: 18+ slow burn romance mafia elite arranged marriage murder mystery thriller

characters: detective jungkook, heir taehyung, ceo namjoon, arms dealer hoseok, bartender yoongi, doctor jimin, best friend/heir seokjin

wordcount: 6.2k

warnings: 18+ multiple smut scenes, oral (f and m), fingering, sexual tension, like a lot of sexual tension, a lot of subtle touching, grinding, kisses, possessive behavior, tsundere!taehyung, implied bipolar disorder, angstttt, betrayal, light yandere undertones, taehyung gets his first kiss...and some other things too ;) breast play, hella teasing, did i mention sexual tension idk taehyung is hot ok but hes also scary do with that what you will, declarations of love, jungkook tryna be sweet we been knew ig, as you might imagine this sets the foreplay for loads of smut in the next part LOL, its a lot of slow burn build up and evident thirsting over this taehyung okay im not sorry

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“I can’t lose you”

Taehyung’s words haunted you as you stared aimlessly at the tiled ceiling. The hospital room chilly, the smell of alcohol—the sanitizing kind, unfortunately—overwhelming your senses. There were other things you could be thinking about. Namjoon in jail. Jimin dead. Hobi betraying your trust.

But no. It had been Taehyung’s eyes that were on your mind—was it concern? Worry? Taehyung with emotions was a rare sighting. You were practically cherishing the moment.   

“It’s late”

The devil in question sat by the windowsill of your private hospital room, minding his own. Reading. Fingers bending the corners of a paperback novel as his eyes trailed over the pages with interest.

Even in the dark hue of the night, the faded moon seemed to hit his face just right.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Go to sleep” His answer was frank, “None of that matters until you get better”

“How can I not think about it?” You snapped. “Namjoon went to jail for me. Because I was an idiot and trusted Hobi. Bet my ass he killed Dr. Park too. I’m probably next. And if he murders me—you won’t get to, Tae”

The corners of Taehyung’s lips curled ever so slightly.

His uninterested eyes steady on the pages of his novel. Not bothering to glance your way.

“Have you ever considered just keeping yourself out of dangerous situations? Whatever it is you’re trying to prove…that you’re powerful, like your mother…that my family wronged you—all it does is show that you’re still their puppet.”

He exhaled sharply, a dismissive scoff that tore your confidence thread by thread, finally meeting your eyes.

“It’s pathetic”

You’d had just about enough of him. Fingernails digging into your palms.

“You’re an asshole Taehyung” You informed him. He shrugged.

“I’m honest” He countered. “And you’re not used to that. You’re used to being babied.” Finally setting his book aside, he walked up to your bedside, kneeling down until he was at your eye level.

“Now will you please sleep?”

The look in his eyes perplexed you. You couldn’t quite tell if he was annoyed, or if he genuinely cared about your health.

Deep down, you knew he was right. Everything you’d done had been to prove a point.

Taehyung rested his head on the armrest. Watching you intently, his eyes tired, dropping unconsciously.

“You’re the one who needs sleep, idiot” You muttered under your breath, letting your fingers run through his soft, wispy black hair. “Taehyung” You nudged him. He barely opened his eyes. 

“Get in here” You shifted over, giving him space. He didn’t question it in the moment, he was probably too tired. He didn’t face you. Kept a decent distance between you both.

You were paralyzed. Aware of his every breath. Aware of the way he shifted himself to get comfortable—you could sense the intention in his avoidance of touching your skin even slightly. His scent was more prominent.

“Do you miss your mother?”

His question was so quiet, you weren’t even sure it was real.

And it occurred to you then, that you’d never thought about it. That you’d never even been asked. In the chaos of your mother’s death, your move to the Kim’s and Taehyung being sent away—you barely even processed anything. All you remembered was Jin being so patronizingly worried about you—convincing you that he was all you needed. That you moving in with him would fix everything.

You blinked wildly. Trying to piece together a coherent answer.

“I liked her” A smile creeped onto his face. Or so you thought, as you turned to see the side of his face—his eyes steady on the ceiling fan. “She’d always get me hotteok”

You watched him. Inspected the mole on his neck. The curve of his cheek. The way his long lashes merged when he’d blink. The way the night sparkled in his eyes. The same eyes that would bend your will so easily.

Young Taehyung would give you one look and you’d give him the world. And he’d known it too.

It was so quiet. But your chest was beating loud in your ears.

You must have fallen asleep despite yourself. Dreaming of Jungkook had become a standard practice. This time, he was drowning. You were him, and he couldn’t breathe. You reached out to him as he screamed for you. He was terrified. Falling. Dying.

Breathe.

You tried to tell him. Swim to the surface. Breathe. Something chained him down.

Your eyes shot open.

It was dark.

You. You couldn’t breathe.

Suffocating you, the cotton tasted bitter on your toungue. You squirmed. Thrashing, trying to grab for someone—anyone. You screamed out, for what it was worth. Scratching at the strong hands that held the pillow down over your face.

Adrenaline surged. It occurred to you to kick your legs. You did.

Suddenly the grip loosened.

Taehyung was on the floor.

Panting.

Hyperventilating.

The pillow inches from his palm.

He was quivering. Eyes shot—looking down as if he himself couldn’t believe what he was doing.

You stared at him. Trying to comprehend. Trying to rationalize.

“Taehyung” His name left your mouth in a more accusatory manner than you meant it to. Was it a question or a plea—you were unsure. He met your eyes, and you saw fear. As if he’d been pulled out of a trance.

“I—” He couldn’t form the words. He receded into himself, moving back until he was as far from your hospital bed as he could be. Back pressed against the wall as he hugged his knees to his chest. His voice was shaking, “I don’t—”

“Were you trying to kill me?” You yelped, looking around suddenly for your phone. Grabbing it you held it to your chest, ready to call for help if he tried anything. You almost wanted to laugh—thinking for a moment that you were safe around Kim fucking Taehyung.

You should’ve known better.

Taehyung’s eyes were overcome with horror. Disgust, at himself. He looked at his hands as if they weren’t a part of his own body. Then back at you.

“Princess” He was breathless, “—I swear, I didn’t mean to. I was d-dreaming, I didn’t know”

You gulped. Your fingers curling around your phone as you tried to think.

Maybe he was telling you the truth. Taehyung didn’t know to lie to you. He was honest if nothing else.

“Come back” You let your voice soften, but your body remained tense. “Go back to sleep Tae”

Taehyung gave you an uncertain look.

You rose from the bed, the hospital gown falling loosely around your curves. Kneeling down, you met his eyes at his level. Taking the pillow from the ground, you reached your other hand out to him.

“Maybe,” You sighed, “Maybe being in a hospital is triggering for you” It was a stretch, but you needed to believe there was something. Something that wasn’t that Taehyung hated your guts. Resented you, and would go as far as to kill you in your sleep because of it.

“It is”

He confessed quietly, still not meeting your gaze.

The pout on his lips, evident.

“You didn’t have to stay”

He looked at you.

He said nothing.

“Why don’t I call Yoongi, hm?” You reasoned, “He can take you home” And then you can call Jungkook and get the fuck away from him.

The phone rang.

Jungkook groaned, shoving his face into his pillow.

It kept fucking ringing.

Knowing deep down it might be the precinct, reluctantly, he put the phone to his ear.

“Hey”

Your voice was an aphrodisiac.

He felt it straight in his chest. Awake, now. Worried, seconds later.

He rubbed his eyes, checking his phone to see how late it was.

“Y/n? Baby, is everything okay? Are you still at the hospital?”

“I’m fine.” You weren’t. He could hear the tremble in your voice, “I just sent Taehyung home. Can I come to your place?”

Jungkook sighed. “Sure. I’ll be there soon”

Perks of having a police vehicle. Traffic was never an issue for him.

Entering the hospital, he noticed Yoongi and Taehyung in the lobby, heading towards the back exit. Yoongi had his hand on Taehyung’s shoulder. Seemed to be reassuring him.

Jungkook wondered what happened. You called Yoongi to the hospital so late to take Taehyung home.

He got in the elevator. He knew what room you were in. He’d been the one to bring you to the hospital, before the staff kindly reminded him he was not family—or rather, he wasn’t a Kim, and therefore couldn’t go into your room.

Then Jimin’s body was found. Duty called.

Three gunshots. He didn’t see him, but the autopsy report was eerily similar to that of his own fathers.

You were waiting at the front desk of the inpatient ward. Signing what he assumed were your discharge papers. You noticed him, eyes lighting up immediately.

Jungkook placed his calloused palm against your cheek. Your eyes were so fucking beautiful it stung him just to look at you.

“You’re okay” He breathed, reassuring himself more than anything. His voice trembled softly into a chuckle as you nodded, covering his palm with your own.

“Yeah, I’m okay” His lips neared yours, not touching, but enough for you to feel his breath scrape against your nerves.

He took your hand in his, and led you out of the hospital to his car. It was a short drive to his apartment. It occurred to him that you’d likely never stepped foot on this side of the city. The streets were narrow. Crippling houses dotted his peripheral—a faint scent of smoke through his windows.

He parked on the edge of the street, in front of an average-sized apartment complex.

“The Jeon Manor” He joked lightly.

You pouted, grabbing his hand. Fingers lacing with his.

“You know I don’t care that you’re not rich”

Jungkook wanted to scoff. But he held it back. If only you knew. If only you realized what could have been his, if it hadn’t been for—

“I don’t care where we are, I just want to be with you”

You brought his hand to your lips.

“Stop” He exhaled.

“W-what?”

“Stop saying shit like that when you won’t fucking commit”

You gulped. His stare was intense as he pulled his hand away from you, running in through his dark curls.

“Jungkook” You reached for his shirt, tugging the fabric towards you but Jungkook’s jaw hardened. He turned away. “Jungkook I’m serious”

“You won’t leave Nexus for me, you told me that. You won’t fight for me”

You tugged harder. He grabbed your wrist, harsher than he meant to. Glaring at you.

You didn’t understand. Jungkook should have known. Why would you? This was personal for you. Running Nexus was a point you had to prove, he understood that. But it was the very thing he needed you to give up. If not, then you’d never forgive him for what was coming.

“I love you”

Jungkook’s eyes clenched shut, almost out of regret. He felt tears but pushed them down.

“No.” He shook his head. Shit. He had let this go too far.

For as much as he’d wanted to hear it, it was a wake up call. The two of you couldn’t be together.

“You can’t”

Then he kissed you. His heart was erratic, breathing too. A desperate kiss, fierce with need. Your body fell limp, melting into his touch. Falling into him because he was everything and all you needed.

-

Somehow, he brought you to his apartment. Kicking the door closed.

He lifted you onto the counter, not letting you breathe—not letting you think, but fighting a sweet war with your lips. You were spinning. Losing yourself every passing second—seconds which passed so slowly as the moment consumed you.

His hands which rested on the sides of your hips, crawled beneath the hem of your shirt. Delicately they explored your skin, rising to the curves of your chest. Caressing your breast, he deepened the kiss, tongue pushing past yours, tangling together.

“Jungkook” You whimpered. His mouth slanting down your jaw, to your neck. Where he tasted your sweet skin and you arched into him. His fingers drawing across your nipples with intention, causing fire to pulse through you.

You could feel him pressed against you, hips locked. Rocking ever so slightly.

Your phone began to vibrate. Jungkook hissed in irritation, backing away as you answered the call.

“Y/n”

Your blood ran cold.

That voice.

“Run”

You could see Jungkook’s eyes narrow at you. The line went dead. You were too stunned to speak.

“Who was it?” Jungkook inquired, looking at your phone. Gulping, you shook your head.

“I-um—just remembered that I need to take care of something”

His fingers hovered over your waist. “Okay, I can drive you” You stiffened as he kissed your neck again. “Or we could go after 20 minutes” His voice was husky.

Run.

Jungkook’s lips dipped to your chest, pushing the hem of your t-shirt up. Leaving pronounced kisses on every inch of skin he could find.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

You squinted behind him. There was an old family photograph hanging on the wall.

Two young boys. A father.

Their suits. Well-tailored. Designer.

Your breath hitched, Jungkook’s fingers slid across your slit.

“I love you baby” He mumbled as his lips returned to yours. “So fucking much, I almost hate you for it”

Two boys. A father.

Two.

“You’re an only child, right?”

Jungkook’s actions halted.

“Yeah,” He wiped his lips, “My mom died when I was young.”

“Any, other relatives…?” You slid off the counter carefully, pieces in your mind beginning to fit together.

Jungkook’s face hardened. Jaw stiff.

“Did Jimin say some bullshit to you?”

Oh God. Jimin had been hinting at some connection between Jin and Jungkook all along. You thought it had been a joke. A way to toy with Jungkook’s head.

That day. After you fucked Jungkook for the first time. Jin saw him. Jin knew him.

What if Jimin had been right? What if he had been the only one who was truly looking out for you all along?

“Did you kill Jimin?” The question had no sound. The air was still. The two of you, frozen in time.

“Come on, Y/n.” Jungkook sighed, “Jimin got what he deserved, but no I did not. He hurt you. He’s insane”

You flinched when he reached for your wrist.

He knew you figured it out.

You stepped outside the apartment. Running down the steps until you were back on the street. Outside Yoongi stood, leaning against the stone wall across the street as though he were expecting you.

“You knew” Was all you said.

Yoongi sighed, “I knew about Jungkook, but I needed to make sure if my hunch about Jin was true.”

You laughed bitterly. “That’s why my mother hated Jin. Because,” You couldn’t even say it. It made you want to vomit.

“Jin is a Jeon”

You blinked back tears. “But, why would he kill his own father?”

“Unless, he didn’t”

“Oh my God. You think…” You exhaled, feeling weak again. Yoongi held you upright. “Taehyung?”

He shrugged lightly, “It’s possible. More believable that a mother sends away the son who killed her lover than a son who simply witnessed something”

You were silent.

“You need to be careful” He made his voice as soft and kind as he possibly could. “I know about Hobi, but I’m honestly more suspicious of Jungkook.”

You nodded. The sun seemed to peak out from the horizon. A new day. A new betrayal.

Then the sound of the voice on the phone hit you. Run. So familiar. Like a ghost.

“Yoongi?”

“Yeah love?”

“Did you call my phone earlier?”

He shook his head. “No…why?”

“You’re back early” Taehyung answered the door, “Figured you’d spend the whole night with the Detective” His bland tone seemed to have been revived. You were too bewildered to care. You pushed past him, Yoongi following behind. Taehyung greeted him nicely. “Hyung”

You slumped into the couch immediately. Hand on your forehead as if it would ease the pounding.

Yoongi watched you, concerned. Taehyung looked to him for an explanation.

“So listen,” Yoongi cleared his throat. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now, but we still need to stay focused on pushing Hoseok out. The shareholders will be at the casino this evening for the anniversary gala”

“Yoongi” You laughed bitterly, “I don’t want to—”

“Y/n,” He responded, adamant, “This is what it’s like. You can’t hide just because shit’s hard. You’re not Jin’s princess anymore, you have responsibilities if you want back what’s yours. Taehyung isn’t ready to handle society on his own. He needs you”

A tear rolled down your cheek.

“Get some sleep” Yoongi rested his hand on your shoulder, caressing it gently. “It’s 7 AM, you’ve got plenty of time to get yourself together” His gaze diverted to Taehyung. “Black tie formal. I’ll send a suit for you. Make sure this one starts getting dressed at least 3 hours before we leave—she takes forever”

You let out a sad laugh, knowing Yoongi was trying to cheer you up but failing epically when all you had was a broken heart and impending doom.

Yoongi left, but Taehyung remained standing in front of you. A safe distance away, he simply observed you.

“You can sit you know” You grumbled.

He didn’t react. Didn’t move an inch.

“What’s wrong?” He inquired after a moment.

“Nothing,” You chuckled, “Just another missed opportunity for you to be the cause of my misery.”

“Was it,” Taehyung took a deep breath. Pausing, considering his next words carefully, “Was it him? Did the Detective hurt you?”

His eyes seemed to flash with something you couldn’t quite read.

“No” You stood up finally, “No the Detective is just another lying, manipulative asshole like the rest of you”

You walked past him, heading towards the foyer.

“I thought you loved him”

You whirled around. How he had managed to pick that up, you had no idea.

“I’ve decided I’m done with love” You stated confidently, “I end up falling for liars anyway”

You proceeded to storm up the stairs.

You were woken up by the sound of soft footsteps. Squinting, the evening sun blaring into your room, you noticed Taehyung pacing nervously outside of your room.

He was dressed.

Yoongi must have come by with the suit. It fit him perfectly. His dark hair was styled, tousled but neater than usual. His shoulders were prominent. The tailoring was perfect for his lean figure, and long legs. A gold watch on his wrist. It looked natural. He wore it so well.

Just like his brother.

Run.

“You’re awake” Finally, Taehyung stepped inside your room.

“Get dressed” He motioned towards a dry-cleaning bag that lay on your desk.

“Taehyung,” You sat upright, wiping the drool from your lips, “You look very handsome”

He blinked at you. Then walked away.

If you had any lingering doubt in your mind that the man by your side was in fact, Kim Taehyung—they were utterly dismissed. His Kim colors were shining. Despite his typical cold nature to you, Taehyung was the embodiment of charm.

Stepping into the casino, he had been initially overwhelmed by the stimulus: the lights, the slot machining whirring with bright colors, the crowd. You could feel him visibly tense even though he remained an appropriate distance away from you at all times. Close enough that folks knew you’d come together. Far enough to show you that he hadn’t forgotten about what happened.

The first few people who’d approached you had been friends of his mothers. You knew everyone well, everyone knew you. Taehyung would be quiet, shy at first, but it was that very aspect of his personality that made him alluring. He knew exactly what to say. His observant nature allowed him to navigate the different dynamics, pick up on cues expertly.

The elders respected his aura. The young were entranced by his mystery.

Every person he talked to was ready to trust him with their life. And if that wasn’t a Kim trait, you weren’t sure what was.

The only hiccups would arise when folks would bring up the past.

“Aren’t you two getting engaged?” Mr. Lee, one of Kim Enterprises’ stakeholders, asked politely, “So tragic what happened to dear Seokjin. But have you rescheduled?”

With speedy hesitation, Taehyung slid a hand onto the small of your back, looking into your eyes. There was a genuine passing of emotion, ever so subtle. He spoke, to Mr. Lee, but really—to you.

“In time” He smiled slightly. Looking back to Mr. Lee, “We are still mourning, in our own way”

“I’m sure Jin would be so proud of you”

You felt Taehyung tense at the implication. He maintained his composure, nevertheless, but you could see the turmoil stirring within him. Mr. Lee excused himself, and you turned to Taehyung, searching his eyes.

The mere mention of Jin had been pushing him closer and closer to the edge all night.

“Tae” You sighed, caressing his arm. “Want to take a break?”

“Please” His response was curt, but you could see his other hand balled up in a fist. Jin’s name had such a radial effect on him—one that reminded you that despite his ability to play the social field, he was dangerous.

Taehyung followed you to the backrooms where a younger crowd was immersed in pool, poker, and other debauchery.

“They loved you”

Taehyung merely shrugged. “Play the man, not the game” His eyes ghosted over you, “You taught me that”

You snorted lightly, as you found a quieter spot away from the buzz, Taehyung leaned against a wall, looking at ease.

“Taehyung, do remember how to play pool?” You asked suddenly as the billiard table came into your vision.

Taehyung thought for a moment. “Not really. But I’ll learn”

“Winner makes a wish, loser fulfills it” You challenged him. You really couldn’t help yourself. Being in the casino made you crave risk. But Taehyung wasn’t ready for high stakes, you knew that.

“Fine”

You start off expertly. Taehyung handed you the pool cue, the smooth wood cool against your fingertips.

"Alright, let me show you the basics," you said, positioning yourself near the table with a practiced ease.

He watched intently, his eyes following the calculated movements of your hands as you lined up a shot.

You demonstrated the proper stance, the controlled grip, and the delicate finesse required to send a ball into the pocket. With each shot, you explained the strategy, the physics of the angles, and the importance of precision.

You hit the shot expertly. With a smirk, you put down the pool cue and motioned for Taehyung to take your place.

"Your turn, Tae."

He eyed you skeptically but took the cue, positioning himself for the shot. You stepped behind him, your hand gently guiding his.

You’d never been so close to him. Not since the day you reunited, and he hugged you. And asked: are you scared of me, Princess?

Ever since then, there were oceans between you that you could only dream of crossing. He smelled good, you couldn’t help breathing in his fresh aura. The dimly lit room seemed to fade away just for a moment, and you wondered if he was effected like you were.

"Now, focus," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear, though you maintained a level of indifference in your tone.

Taehyung's breath hitched imperceptibly, but he composed himself, focusing on the game. With your guidance, he took the shot, sinking the ball into the pocket expertly.

"Perfect," you praised, the ghost of a smile on your lips. "See, you’re a natural yet again. A true Kim”

Taehyung turned to face you, his gaze intense. "Anything I am is because of you”

You stiffened. His words were both a compliment and an accusation. God, seeing this side of him made him even more terrifying, because you didn’t trust yourself not to buy into the fact that he was some pure, innocent version of his older brother. He wasn’t. Kim Taehyung was unhinged. Any second he could snap, and you were on eggshells.

“Your turn” He handed back the cue. A few shots later, the two of you were neck and neck. The ocean between you two drying up slowly with every exchange of banter.

“Done with love, huh?”

You circled him as he lined up his next shot.

“What exactly did the Detective do to make you say something like that?”

You pursed your lips. “Why, gonna go beat him up?”

With a flick of his shoulder, the ball went in. Taehyung stood straight. “Maybe. What’d he do?”

He leaned against the table, handing you the cue as you positioned yourself. “He lied. He betrayed me. And I’m tired of loving liars”

“Didn’t you also lie to him?” He challenged. You shot him a glare. “Why haven’t you told him everything?”

You hit your mark. You missed. Taehyung’s blatant honesty was always unnerving. He wasn’t one to play games. “It’s complicated. I didn’t trust him. I still don’t trust him”

“And you expected him to trust you” Taehyung shrugged blandly. He stole the cue from your hand and before you could blink, he snapped the final shot. “Seems fair”

Taehyung’s last ball went in.

He beat you.

“Well” Taehyung huffed, trying to hide his gleaming pleasure. You almost wanted to roll your eyes. “I suppose that’s that” He looked at you expectantly.

“Okay Kim Taehyung, what wish can I grant you?” Cue in hand, you pretended to curtsy. Taehyung grabbed the end of the stick, using it to tug you towards him.

The space between you vanished. Only the cue between you, until Taehyung pulled it from your grip and set it aside.

There was something unrecognizable in his eyes. He licked his lips unconsciously.

“Well?” You looked up at him, suddenly aware of his height.

His fingers held your chin, tilting your face upward. Except his touch wasn’t harsh. Wasn’t painful.

Taehyung inhaled.

Your eyes widened as he closed his mouth over yours. His eyes shut—kissing you with a depraved delicateness. As if he was drinking your soul like he was the devil himself.

A touch so tender, and yet it seemed to steal away every last bit of purity within you, leaving behind a raging storm. Activating something so sinful—so wicked. All due to the decadent taste of his delicate lips.

He pushed your mouth open, deepening the kiss. And you—you were lost. Still utterly shocked that—Kim Taehyung was kissing you. The Kim Taehyung that wanted you dead. The Kim Taehyung who blamed you for everything—was actually kissing you.

It wasn’t like you’d never thought about it. The two of you no longer had to get engaged, but you lived with the man. And he was gorgeous. His quiet, mesmerizing charm. Enigmatic, smoldering and yet so calm. Who knew beneath that cold demeanor there was a tsunami waiting to be unleashed? 

He didn’t give you an opportunity to question him. His lips felt too good on yours for you to care. The casino around you seemed to vortex—everything spinning: the colorful lights—until you were airborne.

Floating. Dizzy. Afraid to fall but so fucking glad you were in the sky.

His mouth coaxed out your fierceness until you began to feel impatient. You placed your hand on his pounding chest, a light push until he sat down on the bench. You slid into his lap, no longer thinking—no longer caring that you were in public. That there was a room full of people in the casino who could be staring. Taking pictures. Gossiping.

They were all dead for all you cared.

You gasped audibly, a soft moan as he pulled you impossibly closer. You were losing your breath. On the verge of fainting—overwhelmed with sensations. Everything was heightened—everything felt alive.

His hand was behind your neck, the other one on the small of your back. Both yours in his wavy black—cloud like hair.

He pulled away, finally—barely. Catching his breath. His chest rising as fast as yours, offset by his erratic heartbeat. He was nervous.

Was that his first kiss?

He swallowed, uncomfortably on edge. His eyes were dark with desire. An angry kind of lust.

You searched your mind for words. Something to tell him that he did so good. That you loved it—and you wanted more. He was searching your gaze for something, but you were speechless.

So you kissed him again. Because how the hell else are you supposed to communicate.

“Taehyung” Your hands moved to cup his cheeks. You shifted, letting your body roll against his. Grinding against him slow and sensual, letting your movements mimic those of your lips. He was hard—painstakingly so. And he felt so good tucked between your legs. Throbbing for you. Both his hands lowered to your hips, then back up your back as if he couldn’t decide where he wanted to touch you—or maybe he couldn’t believe you were real.

His hold was strong—not rough. Touch intentional but not desperate. He took his time with you as if he had all the time in the world, but was still somehow starved. Drinking from you was his only salvation. You—you were his salvation. And he was your ruin.

He pushed you away, suddenly. You blinked, dizzy from the loss of touch. Sensitive and damp, heart throbbing fast. He didn’t meet your gaze.

“Fuck”

You could see the judgmental stares all around. Rolling your jaw you smirked at the crowd.

“We own this place. I’d mind your business”

The chatter dissipated. You redirected your attention back onto Taehyung.

“Taehyung?” Your voice was soft. “You okay?”

You noticed how tightly he was gripping the table. His head down, looking anywhere but up at you. Eyes wide, spiraling in thought.

“I—” He exhaled, closing his eyes again.

Was he--?

You couldn’t help yourself. You knew he’d despise you for it—but Kim Taehyung already despised you. You weren’t going to pass up a chance to feel him cum.

You shifted his chair so he was facing away from prying eyes. Carefully you snuck under the pool table, clawing at his pants.

His fingers pulled your hand away. A warning glare.

You yanked your hand away, unzipping his pants and letting his pretty cock spring free.

You clicked your tongue. Poor thing was ready to burst.

Licking your lips, you let your tongue glide from his base all the way up his length where you left a soft, sweet kiss on his tip. You slid his tip into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked.

Flattening your tongue, you let his cock rest there. Like a dog, you waited for him to cum all over you.

Then you looked up at him.

His eyes locked onto yours—and they were wild.

He hissed, shooting into your mouth. You drank up everything he had to give—and it was quite a bit. He bucked over, knuckles turning white. The bite into his lip released blood with how hard he was trying to stay quiet. You let him push his cock into the hollow of your cheek and spurts continued to flow out of him. You rested your hand on his knee, and his hand covered yours. Holding it tenderly—as if he were thanking you.

You cleaned him up quickly, before returning to your seat, adjusting your dress inconspicuously.

You grinned at him, but he was not amused at all. Still panting.

“Was that your wish?” You beamed at him. He chuckled softly.

“I just wanted to know what it felt like”

It was an innocent intention. Almost heartwarming.

“And, what do you think?” You leaned into him, “Did I rock your world, Kim Taehyung?”

“You are my world. There was never a doubt”

His eyes glossed over. You wanted to melt in his gaze. Unravel. Instead, you were plunged into cold water.

“Fancy seeing you two here”

The hairs on your body straightened. Chills seeping over you at the familiar voice, laced with betrayal.

“Jung Hoseok” He extended a hand to Taehyung, “Pleasure’s all mine baby boy” Taehyung skeptically shook it.

-

Hobi was extremely amused at what he had walked in on. Of course, a whore like you would take a matter of days to wrap the young Kim boy around your finger.

“Nice job leashing the puppy” He muttered, cigarette at the edge of his lips. The smoke wisping past your unamused expression.

“I should kill you” Hobi grinned at your response.

“No need,” He tapped the cigarette ash on the edge of the ash tray. He had brough you to his private booth. Leaving Taehyung for the wolves.

“What do you want, Hobi? I don’t want to leave Taehyung alone too long”

“Why?” He leaned closer to you. His hand resting on your bare thigh. Your dress was so fucking slutty, he loved it. He always loved the way you’d dress to gamble. As if your body gave you an edge—it did. He knew you crumbled rich playboy’s resolve with one bat of your pretty eyes. “Are you so desperate for dick you’d take your lover’s little brother’s virginity?”

You rolled your eyes. “I asked you a fucking question,”

“A birdy told me that you found out about Jin’s daddy”

You squinted at him. “What about it?”

“Don’t you want to know the whole story?” Hobi’s fingers hooked under the straps of your dress, playing with them. “Of the infamous Jeon family? And your mother—the woman who tore down a legacy”

His hand slid between your legs.

“Long long ago, the entire arms distribution business lay in the hands of one famous Korean gangster. Jeon Junghyun.”

He brushed against your clit. Gentle circles while he gazed into your eyes. A wicked grin. Like he could kiss you or stab you in the back.

You latched onto his arm as he lured you towards an orgasm. His face burying against your neck, breathing you in as he continued to touch you. Nothing except your soft whimpers in the air.

The heat from his body infected your every nerve. His breath scalding over your cheek.

“Then there was this clever little bitch” You inhaled sharply, edging forward towards your high. He could tell—because he pressed a little harder.

“Who manipulated her way to the top. Gained favor of everyone under him and took him out with a stab to the back” His hands roamed your body, sliding up your dress. He pushed the fabric up until it bunched up above your breasts which he grabbed at eagerly.

Thumbs rolling over your nipples, he continued “She took everything from him, leaving him and his two sons to rot. But she wasn’t cruel. She let him stay as her right-hand”

Hobi left a soft kiss against your left breast. Then another. And another. His thumb back onto your clit, he licked and suckled you. You gasped—looking at him with big, pleading eyes. Curving into his touch.

“She grew the business. An arms distribution pipeline can be used for a lot of things. She went legit. Bought out other companies with the blood money. Began distributing just about everything.”

He licked your lips. The sensation like that of slowly sinking into absolute, soft bliss. Licking down your jaw, fluttering desperate hisses across your neck.

Then, he slipped one finger in—your face heating at the sound. You clenched around the protrusion and he reached deep inside. Working you slowly, carefully—before adding in another.

His kisses trailed back up to your mouth. His breaths were heavy, swallowing your moans. It was hauntingly intimate.

“Hobi” You pleaded, gripping onto him as you shook. Orgasm sweeping over you like an earthquake. Tremors from your heart to every finger and toe in your body. He was so wildly aroused that he couldn’t look away. His fingers were steady nevertheless, pumping you through it. “Fuck, Hobi please”

“Jeon Jungkook wants you dead sweetheart” The pain from his words pushed you over the edge. You soaked over his fingers, twitching wildly. “And so did his hyung. Kim Seokjin.”

-

The brisk night air bit at your skin as you seized Taehyung's wrist, pulling him outside. People were chattering, smoking cigars, the lights from the casinos madness still polluting the air. Limousines, sleek and imposing, formed a line ready to usher the remaining guests to their destinations.

Waving down a driver, you led Taehyung inside one. The plush leather seats cool against your exposed legs. The interior lit so you could see him in front of you, clear as day.

The light shut. Instead there were light sparkles on the ceiling of the limo as it began to move. The champagne swirled in your mind as you leaned back, looking out the window. The city lights blurred past the tinted windows. Like a rush, you wanted to lose yourself.

Your eyes shut for a moment. Remembering the way the light danced on your fac when you were with Jungkook that night at the club. Yearning for his touch, the look in his eyes when he told you how he felt.

You swallowed thickly, heart in too much pain to go down that road. You looked at Taehyung next to you, instinctively reaching out to touch his face. Gently, you took hold of his chin, coaxing his gaze to meet yours.

Your thumb traced over his cheek. Fingers dancing over his soft, delicate skin. His eyes fluttered close as you did. Teasing the edge of his lips ever so lightly. He really was a beautiful man. His lips looked soft. Devastating, with the way his shaken breath made them tremble.

He leaned into your touch, your fingers sliding up over his ear, pushing his hair out of his face. It felt like you were getting kicked in the chest repeatedly. Every part of you feeling numb but simultaneously sensitive to even the slightest movement of air.

He exhaled. The flow of his breath wavering. Or was it a moan, you weren’t sure.

You were about to pull your hand away, until Taehyung’s over fingers gripped your wrist. He stared at you, pupils wide. It was these moments where you felt like you could see him. His soft, vulnerable side, behind those concrete walls.

To your surprise, he brought your hand up to his face, kissing the inside of your wrist.

His lips softly melted into the sensitive area. Your breath hitched.

It was furiously intimate.

Holding your hand still, his eyes blinked back up at you. Almost as though he were asking permission.

Your throat was dry. The alcohol loosening the knots on your sense of logic.  

His eyes traced over you, dipping down your entire body. The way he sat, leaning so his knees almost touched yours. The leather suddenly felt so hot against your skin. Under his flaming stare.

He inhaled, steady, before leaning into you. Tracing his nose behind your ear. You shivered. His touch making you dizzy. Needy. Quivering.

“You looked beautiful tonight”

They were plain words.

When he said them, they meant the world. Something bloomed inside you. You were spinning and breathless, mouth parting in shock. His lips barely grazing under your jaw.

He backed away, putting distance between you yet again.

-

Namjoon stood in the foyer, waiting for you to come home. The moment the door swung open, you darted into his embrace. It felt like a familiar haven, and he effortlessly hoisted you up, cradling you in a desperate hug, afraid you might vanish if he let go.

"I missed you," Namjoon murmured, pressing a kiss to your cheek before reluctantly releasing you. His gaze then shifted to Taehyung, pride in his voice. "You too. You look great, Taehyung. I heard you went to the casino."

Taehyung's response was measured. "Are you out on bail?"

"No," Namjoon replied with a hint of bitterness, "Yoongi blackmailed Jungkook into letting me go."

Your heart tightened at his name.

"Where is he? I want to see him”

“Absolutely not” Namjoon was firm. “We don’t know how dangerous he is. I have some of my guys looking into it with Yoongi. He sure as hell had been in contact with Jin in the weeks leading up to his murder”

Namjoon cupped your face. “But other than that, it’s over. He won’t contact you. You’re free. I don’t want you worrying about this anymore”

You wanted to laugh at the term. Free. Especially since Namjoon was already back to telling you what you could and couldn’t do.

“What about Nexus?”

Namjoon smiled, taking your hand in his. “Come with me,”

You followed him. Taehyung a few paces behind. Namjoon brought you into the garden. There were a million fireflies. Out of the corner of your eye, you glanced at Taehyung, wondering if he remembered your tender moment in this same spot.

Namjoon lowered onto one knee.

Fuck. It was one of those moments where everything was so still. So quiet yet extremely loud in your chest. He smiled. Eyes meeting yours. Brimming.

“Marry me”

Your mouth was dry. The moisture building in your eyes instead. It hurt, deep inside because your mind took you to a certain tattooed, mean and yet tender man who you had left behind.

“Let me give you everything, Y/n” Namjoon continued, “The papers. The stocks. The business. You deserve it all and I will give it to you. I’ve done you wrong, and I know you aren’t where I am. I know you loved someone else”

His proposal hung in the luminous space. His words echoed in your ears. His gaze held both sincerity and vulnerability. He waited for your response, standing up so his fingers could brush against the side of your face. The fireflies flickered like stars behind him.

“I hope someday, it can be more than an arrangement. Someday you might love me the way I love you. But for now, I wanted you to have the option. I will give you everything, I promise”

Tears blurred your vision, and you took a steadying breath. "Namjoon," you whispered, your voice fragile yet resolute. Suddenly, with the prize standing in front of you, waiting for your claim, you realized how serious your answer was. If you married Namjoon, you were signing a deal with the devil. There would be no going back.

"I need time."

His eyes reflected understanding, and he stood, pulling you into a tender embrace. "Take all the time you need," he murmured against your hair.

You could still feel Taehyung watching the scene unfold. His expression unreadable, he retreated into the shadows.

Namjoon walked you to your bedroom, and you kissed him goodnight. He urged you not to stress. To take all the time and he’d be there, waiting when you were ready. No rush. This is what you’d wanted.

So why was it so hard to say yes?

Jungkook’s face engraved into your mind. Your gut flipping. You needed to find him. Needed to talk to him without Namjoon finding out. Your phone began to buzz. Hope coursed through you. Maybe it was him.

You answered quickly, excited.

“Don’t marry him”

There was no way.

“You’re mine”

series navi | join taglist | masterlist | scream in my asks

a/n: its been a fucking MINUTE. idek how to do thia anymore, please enjoy and let me know what you think !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TAEHYUNG omfg come scream with me pls thanks

and thank you for reading you hawtie <3

[keehomania]

girl ur literally my fav nct writer 🫶🫶 i just wanted u to know that i appreciate u answering the asks wholeheartedly hehe. in a mark lee brainrot rn, dom!mark x reader 🫡🫡

MARK LEE (마크이) — SWEETHEART (18+)

✧ MDNI

it had been perfect—like a dream you never wanted to wake up from. your relationship with jaehyun was everything that love songs were written about, the kind of smooth sailing people envied from the sidelines. it was golden, wrapped in honeyed moments, soft whispers, and lazy smiles shared in the glow of a setting sun. the two of you painted a life together, each day a new canvas, filled with color, warmth, and comfort. nights were spent with heads tilted back, eyes tracing the stars, mapping constellations in the inky blackness, sharing secrets that were only meant for the sky to hear.

paris was your sanctuary. the rented hotel room had the scent of wine lingering in the walls, cigarettes lazily curling in the air like an afterthought. it was there that you learned how to make jam by hand, the two of you laughing at the mess you created, fingers sticky with sugar and fruit. you remember the way jaehyun kissed your wrist, tasting the sweetness as if it were the only thing that mattered. those moments were pure. untainted. until they weren’t.

it wasn’t the heart-wrenching kind of betrayal you had heard about—where tears flood your eyes and your chest aches so much you can barely breathe. no, it was quieter. like a slow unraveling, a ribbon pulling apart from the fabric of your life, thread by thread. he had been cheating, living a double life that you were blissfully unaware of. the weight of it didn’t crash into you all at once, but it sank, settling deep inside your chest, colder than anything you had ever felt. you weren’t shattered—you were numb. how could he have done it? how could you have been so blind, so foolish, to miss the signs that were right in front of you? it was enough to make your head spin, the world tilting on an axis you no longer recognized.

the days blurred together after that, a haze of distraction and feigned indifference. you got on quicker than you thought possible, faster than anyone expected. maybe it was because you hadn’t truly felt the pain, or maybe because you didn’t want to. either way, you moved forward. it was easier to pretend that nothing ever hurt at all.

mark, though—he had prayed for this. he would never say it aloud, not even in the deepest, darkest corners of his mind. but he had. every time he saw you with jaehyun, every time he watched the way you kissed him, the way you melted into him, something inside mark twisted. and he prayed. he prayed that your perfect relationship would crumble, that something, anything, would cause a fracture, a break that could pull you apart.

he never wanted to admit it to himself. what kind of friend did that make him? jaehyun was his best friend—one of the only people he had ever truly trusted. but how could he look away when all he could think about was you? the way your hips swayed in the jeans jaehyun bought for you, the way your lips wrapped around the popsicles mark had handed you on a hot summer day. it was wrong. he knew it was wrong, but it didn’t stop him. something had been unlocked inside him, something dark, something he hadn’t known was there. and now that it was free, he couldn’t lock it away. he didn’t want to. no one else had to know, not yet. but you would. soon enough. he was ready to introduce that side of himself to you.

“fucking slut,” mark’s voice was low, dripping with something dangerous as his hand tightened around your throat. his thumb pressed into that sweet spot just beneath your jaw, the one that made your vision blur and your breath hitch. you could barely think, barely process the rush of heat between your legs, the pressure of his knee grinding into you, sending shockwaves through your body. there was nothing between you but the thin fabric of your panties and his jeans, and you were soaking, drenching his knee with your desire.

“is that what you are? a slut?” his words were a hiss, dripping with venom and amusement. you were, and you had only just begun to realize it. not in the way you might have thought before—this was something deeper, darker, something that only Mark had drawn out of you. you weren’t some naïve virgin, far from it. you had done this countless times with jaehyun, but it had never felt like this. he had always been too soft, too careful with you, like you were made of glass, fragile and delicate. it was almost ironic, given the way he had shattered everything with his lies and betrayal.

but mark was different. loud, funny, hyperactive—that was what everyone saw. that was what you had seen. this, though? this was something else entirely. something darker, something you’d never have expected from him. but you had learned your lesson about judging people by appearances. “yeah,” you rasped, your voice barely more than a breath as his grip on your throat tightened, sending another pulse of heat straight between your legs. “just for you.”

he scoffed, his lips curling into a smirk as his hand trailed upward, his grip loosening just enough to let you breathe, but not enough to let you think. his thumb tapped roughly against your lips, a silent command, and without hesitation, you parted them. the moment your mouth opened, he shoved his thumb inside, groaning when he felt your tongue curl around it, wet and obedient.

“you should see yourself right now,” he murmured, his voice low and taunting. his eyes flickered over your face, watching the way your lips wrapped around his thumb, your eyes glazed with lust. “he should see you right now.”

the shame that pooled in your stomach twisted into something darker, something far more exhilarating. the thought of jaehyun walking in, seeing you like this, seeing his best friend ruin you—god, it turned you on more than you wanted to admit. a part of you wanted it to happen, wanted him to see how far gone you were, how much you had fallen.

“he should, actually,” mark repeated, the dark glint in his eyes growing more intense. he pulled his thumb from your mouth, the slick wetness of your saliva still glistening on his skin. you watched in a haze as he reached for his phone, sitting on the edge of the desk. he picked it up with a smirk, his eyes locking with yours, daring you to protest.

“what do you think, princess?” his voice was a murmur now, a purr, as his fingertips traced the bare skin of your thighs, sending shivers racing up your spine. you could feel your heart pounding, could feel the weight of the decision hanging in the air between you. and yet, despite everything, despite the shame, despite the humiliation, you wanted it. you needed it. so you nodded. mark chuckled, the sound dry and amused, like he had expected nothing less. “exactly what i thought,” he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours as he swiped the screen, fingers moving with ease as he pressed record.

mark’s grip on your throat tightened again, his thumb pressing down hard enough to make your pulse stutter, your vision blurring at the edges as the air thinned in your lungs. he reveled in your reactions, the way your lips parted, the small gasps and moans slipping out, desperate for more, needing more. there was a sick pleasure in the way he controlled you, the way he had you falling apart beneath his touch, completely at his mercy.

“look at you,” he sneered, his voice low and cruel as his eyes flickered from the phone screen to your face. the red light on the camera blinked steadily, capturing every moment, every sound, every filthy thing he did to you. “fucking pathetic. you think jaehyun could ever fuck you like this? like you deserve?” his words sent another wave of heat rushing through you, shame and arousal twisting together in a way that made your heart race, your core clenching with need. you couldn’t answer, not with the way his hand was wrapped around your throat, but the way you writhed beneath him said enough. you needed this. you needed him.

mark shifted his weight, his knee pressing harder between your legs, grinding against your dripping core. his free hand moved to your ass, squeezing roughly before landing a sharp, stinging slap that made you cry out. “answer me,” he demanded, his voice sharp as he delivered another slap, harder this time, the sound echoing in the room. “no,” you gasped, your voice hoarse as you struggled to breathe, your body trembling from the roughness of his touch. “he couldn’t.”

mark chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowing as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. “that’s right. he couldn’t. he doesn’t know how to handle a slut like you.” he spat the word with venom, and yet it sent a thrill through you, the degradation hitting you harder than the slaps, making you shudder. he let go of your throat just long enough to shove two fingers into your mouth, forcing them deep, pressing against the back of your tongue until you gagged around them. his eyes gleamed with something dark and twisted as you choked, and he pulled his fingers free, wiping the spit across your cheek.

“open,” he growled, and you did, your mouth parting obediently, your tongue resting against your lower lip as you looked up at him with wide, needy eyes. his lips curled into a smirk as he leaned over, spitting directly into your mouth. “swallow.” you did, closing your mouth and swallowing hard, the taste of him lingering on your tongue. he grunted in approval, his hand sliding down your throat again, squeezing as he pushed you back against the bed. his knee was gone, replaced by the rough fabric of his jeans pressing against your bare, soaking core, grinding into you as he smirked down at you.

“i should send this to him,” mark murmured, his eyes flicking to the phone, his hand tightening around your neck again. “let him see what his little princess looks like getting fucked like a whore.” your body betrayed you, a shiver of excitement rushing through your veins at the thought of jaehyun watching this, of seeing you like this, ruined by his best friend. mark grinned, sensing the shift, his hips rolling against yours, teasing, taunting you as you whined beneath him.

“yeah,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “you like that, don’t you? you want him to see, you want him to know how much you need this. how much you need me.”

he didn’t wait for an answer, his hands moving to your hips, lifting you up just enough so he could pull your panties aside, exposing your slick, dripping folds to the cool air. he wasted no time, thrusting into you with a rough, punishing force that had you arching off the bed, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as he filled you completely. there was no gentleness, no hesitation, just the relentless pace of his hips slamming into yours, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room.

“look at you,” he growled, his hand wrapping around your throat again as he fucked into you, hard and fast, the bed creaking beneath the force of his thrusts. “so fucking desperate for it. bet you never looked like this for him.” his words were a sharp sting, but they only fueled the fire burning inside you, the heat building with every rough, pounding thrust. you could feel the phone’s camera still recording, capturing every moment, every filthy word that fell from mark’s lips.

“bet he didn’t know what to do with you,” he continued, his voice a low snarl as he slapped your ass again, harder this time, leaving a red handprint on your skin. “bet he didn’t know how to fuck you like this. didn’t know how to make you beg for it.”

you were already so close, your body trembling, every nerve on fire as he drove into you mercilessly, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you clawed at the sheets, desperate for more. mark’s grip on your throat tightened, cutting off your air just enough to make your head spin, your vision blurring as the pleasure built and built, coiling tight in your belly. “come on,” he taunted, his voice rough as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “I want you to cum for him. cum for me while he watches.”

that was all it took. your body shattered, pleasure ripping through you in waves so intense you could barely breathe, your vision going white as you screamed his name. mark didn’t stop, fucking you through it, his thrusts rough and brutal as he chased his own release, his hand tightening around your throat as you convulsed beneath him. with a guttural groan, he came, his body tensing as he buried himself deep inside you, his hips jerking against yours as he filled you, the warmth spreading through your core. he stayed there for a moment, panting, his hand still wrapped around your throat as he rode out the last of his orgasm.

then, with a smirk, he reached for the phone, lifting it from the desk as he pulled out of you. he angled the camera down, making sure it captured everything—your wrecked, trembling body, the sticky mess between your legs with his hot cum seeping out of your cunt—the evidence of his release dripping out of you. “perfect,” he murmured, his fingers tracing your thighs one last time before he stopped the recording, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

✧

a/n: this was soo rushed i’m sorry lol but it’s 9 am and i have an mun meeting in an hour!! also ily u sound like such a sweetheart omg so cute

[agoodroughandtumble]

Roronoa Zoro x Reader - Birthday

Status: Complete Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader – I haven’t beta’d but I don’t think Reader is a particular gender (obviously comment if you think it needs changing) Summary: It’s Reader’s birthday Warning(s): 18+ Language, alcohol

Roronoa Zoro was not unaccustomed to the unknown. The unravelling of mysteries were, thankfully, usually not his problem so he tended to just wait until someone told him which direction his swords should be facing. Life had been fairly simple that way. He trusted his captain, trusted his crew. The only problem he had to solve was which insult he would be hurling at the Sunny’s cook at that particular moment. Life for him had been on a solid trajectory – follow his captain, protect his crew, become the world’s greatest swordsman.

Every now and then Luffy would enlist another lost soul and that inevitably led to a veer off the course but that was Luffy, and Zoro was well accustomed to the trend. And then, as much as the cliché infuriated him – you came along. Another broken soul longing for acceptance – that part was fine, tolerable, understandable. The effect you had on him not so much. That was an exasperating unknown, and one he didn’t much care for. Only no one else was figuring it out for him – not that he would ever discuss this with anyone. Maybe Nami, after a few drinks, but he was almost certain her “advice” would be decidedly less than helpful.

So, as much as it was driving him insane, it seemed like you were his own mystery to solve, or at least you would be if Zoro hadn’t mastered the art of stubbornness along with swordsmanship. If he couldn’t understand you, if he couldn’t explain why you were occupying so many of his thoughts then he was just going to ignore you – ignore the way his gaze automatically fell on you, ignore the instinctive response to stand in front of you at the first sign of danger, ignore the way his heart leapt when you smiled at him. He could ignore everything – only it was impossible to bury his head in the sand when he was surrounded by water.

On this particular day you were making your way into his intrusive thoughts in spectacular fashion. The morning had been fine, normal – breakfast, training, preventing Luffy from launching himself overboard in the name of hijinks… Then Sanji had swept across the desk, the very epitome of the cat that got the cream. He’d been gushing to anyone who would listen about much you had appreciated – no, loved – your birthday present.

Ah, shit.

There was ignoring you because of weird, unknown reasons. And then there was being the arsehole that forgot your birthday.

Of course the stupid love cook would make a song and dance about it. If Zoro was in a more forgiving mood he would just assume Sanji was just being his usual overly flirtatious self. But Zoro wasn’t in a forgiving mood – he was annoyed at himself for forgetting and therefore Sanji was deliberately being a prick. The blond’s obsequious behaviour towards you hadn’t been lost on Zoro. Even he could only dismiss the fawning for so long. It didn’t help that Sanji was notorious for flirting with any woman with a pulse. Every time you giggled at a joke or downcast your eyes out of feigned modesty Zoro wanted to grab your shoulders and shake you. He wanted to tell you that Sanji wasn’t doing it for you, but he wou-

Zoro scrunched his eyes up. Another intrusive thought. That stupid bloody cook. If Sanji wasn’t being such an obvious flirt then Zoro wouldn’t have to get involved. Just to stop you from reading too much into it. That was only why he cared, nothing about you flirting back, nothing at all like that. Yeah, that was convincing.

*

The evening sun was lazily making its way below the horizon when you found yourself resting against the railings of the Sunny. You weren’t particularly one to celebrate your birthday but the fact that every one of the Straw Hats had gone out of their way to make it special, well, you couldn’t ask for anything more. Unsurprisingly the party was in full swing, although you weren’t sure whether it was a party just for you or for the sake of it. Not that it mattered. You were just glad to be a part of something. It was almost sickeningly sweet how much you were enjoying your crew mates’ revelry, which just made Zoro’s indifference to the festivities all the more sour. You hadn’t expected much but then a simple “happy birthday” was hardly asking for the moon.

You weren’t quite sure what had happened. For the first couple of months Zoro had just treated you like any other member of the crew and then almost overnight he couldn’t bear to be in the same vicinity. You had spent hours wracking your brains, obsessively reliving every conversation and encounter – desperate to understand what had prompted the sudden gear shift.

Annoyingly, you had passed the barrier between being drunk enough to confront him and too drunk to confront him. Your fists clenched. Honestly. Could he not just pretended he liked you for a day? You didn’t particularly like him either but at least you weren’t so petty as to make him feel guilty at his birthday party because you weren’t having fun. And, you reasoned to yourself, he’d done this himself. He was the one who was ignoring you. He was the one who conveniently had to be everywhere you weren’t. He was the arsehole.

You glanced around you – surveying the landscape. Obviously Brook was on deck with his violin, you could hear that much. The others seemed to be sat in a circle a few feet away from him playing some sort of game which, judging by her outspokenness was Nami’s idea. All except one. You could feel the heat rising in your chest. So now he wasn’t even bothering to be at the party? The man who loved sake almost as much as he loved his swords. He’d rather not drink than be anywhere near you. Tears pricked your eyes which was pathetic – you knew it was pathetic. Why did it matter so much? Only it did. Because you clearly liked him. Because you clearly … fuck you couldn’t say it. Because he was the one that mattered. Because he’d been ignoring you for months and what had you done? Well, you had been unsubtle about your feelings but that was it.

You took a sip of your drink and tried to steady yourself. The last thing you needed was someone seeing you upset, ruining the whole evening for everyone. A deep breath and you’d be fine. You didn’t need Zoro. Didn’t want Zoro. Yeah, that was convincing.

*

“Are you alright?”

The voice behind you made you jump. Fuck. Quickly wiping a tear away from your eye you steadied yourself. You weren’t going to be upset in front of him of all people. “What do you care?”

A heavy sigh. “It’s your birthday.”

“Oh you noticed?”

A pause. You inwardly cursed yourself for being so defensive. But then fuck it. Why shouldn’t you be? Why couldn’t you be an arsehole tonight when he’d spent the past six or so months doing the exact same thing. Guilt be damned.

“Are you going to bite my head off if I wish you happy birthday?”

Your mouth twitched, eager to unleash all of the thoughts in your head. Somehow with a deep breath you managed to contain them and turned around to face him. He looked … you couldn’t work out what. Not like the sarcastic, stoic dick you were used to. You brushed your hair behind your ears, giving you a few seconds to compose yourself. “Well where’s my present then?” You had tried to sound light-hearted. It hadn’t worked.

“I had some thoughts. You’re hard to please.”

You scoffed. A cowardly way out. “How do you know that? How do you know anything about me when you just ignore me all the time?” The heat in your chest was back. “You don’t know anything because you never try.”

Zoro looked away from you, you squinted at him. If he was going to come out with some wank you weren’t having any of it. And you certainly weren’t going to let him sweep the past six months under the rug just because he said something now. If he wanted to be your friend, fine, you would let him, and you could forget the awkwardness but one grand gesture wasn’t overtaking months of him making you feel like you weren’t worthy of even being in the same room as him just because he’d suddenly decided that was so.

“Well?” You prompted, “Since it’s my birthday you have to answer my questions.” You could see the furrow in his eyebrows. Good. You wanted to make him squirm a little bit.

“I know,” Zoro cut off and you rolled your eyes fully prepared for the spiel. “I know when you can’t get someone out of your head. And you don’t know why. That’s what I know.”

You took another sip of your drink. And swallowed. Hard. You scrunched your face – a million thoughts running through your head and trying to grasp onto the only one that didn’t make you sound like an arsehole. You didn’t want an argument but the need for clarity was over riding. “And I’m supposed to believe that’s me? The one you can’t get out of your head?”

As soon as the words left your mouth you braced yourself. Obviously it wasn’t you. But please for the love of God let it be you. Let it be you that Zoro always thinks about. Let him want you as much as you wanted him. Let him be feeling even a fraction of the anticipation, nerves, self doubt, want, need, desire as you were. Just… just don’t let him say it’s for someone else.

The silence was palpable. Consuming. But you could live in it if the other option was rejection. You could spend a thousand aeons in this silence if the alternative was Zoro telling you he didn’t want you.

A sharp intake of breath and once again you were bracing yourself for the inevitable. Zoro turned around from you. Your shoulders slumped in defeat. He couldn’t even look at you whilst rejecting you. That was a new found low. Your eyes hit the deck, biting your bottom lip and wanting anything else than this. Your heart had fallen slow it would be used as an anchor.

You didn’t notice when Zoro turned back to you. It was only when he took your hand in his. The customary I-like-you-as-a-friend-gesture. You wanted to be sick. Just get it over with and fuck off. But your eyebrows furrowed when something was placed in your hand – something small and ever so slightly warm. Despite yourself you opened your palm and looked down at your hand. An earring. A gold earring. Your eyes darted up to his but they were closed.

His forehead leant against yours, “Now you’re not in my head.”

[abyssalzones]

[1/3] Hello! My apologies, I'm not sure how the best way to approach this is, so I hope you'll bear with me. I have been struggling with some thoughts surrounding Ford and Fiddleford that I haven't really been sure how to parse, and I am genuinely interested in your opinion. I mean this in good faith, an open mind to learn, and from the perspective of someone who really enjoys your depictions of these two characters. Especially in your review/analysis of the Book of Bill, I really agree with the way you describe Fiddleford's significance to Ford and how their relationship with each other is.

I'm going to keep this fairly short and simple because my feelings on it are honestly not that complex, but I do really appreciate you coming to me with an open mind and explaining your own perspective. The truth is that I really don't think anything Bill did to Ford is equivalent to what Ford did to Fiddleford- which is not to say we're setting a standard for abuse at "the most extreme shit ever", but more that... I just don't see any evidence for it, whether that's textually or thematically.

Don't get me wrong- Ford definitely treated Fiddleford unfairly at certain points in the story. It's a major part of why their reunion feels all the more satisfying... but I think that has less to do with Ford not respecting Fiddleford and can be attributed largely to Bill's manipulation driving a wedge between them both. Ford and Fiddleford are, objectively speaking, equal partners: they were roommates in college, Fiddleford drove up to Oregon and stayed of his own accord to help Ford with what would become their portal project, and when shit gets to be too much, Fiddleford leaves. It's clear that even outside of a romantic interpretation they make for very good friends, something that to me is clearly not just a boss-employee relationship.

So the biggest faults in how Ford treats Fiddleford boil down to two things: a lack of trust ingrained from childhood bullying, and the evilest motherfucker in the world sitting on his shoulder and whispering lies into his ear. When Ford gives Fiddleford a stack of equations to work on, he's working himself to death just as hard if not harder. When he mixes up his Cubic's cube, he's playfully messing with him and potentially not understanding that it really is bothering him (if it is.) And later, when things start to truly unravel, Ford's rash behavior (leaving him at the diner, yelling WELL FINE I DON'T NEED YOU I DON'T NEED ANYONE >:(, etc) it's Bill's influence well and truly consuming him and successfully isolating him from someone he had a once-healthy relationship with. hell, even in the journal's small segment about the "a better world" dimension, Fiddleford and Ford eventually make up and become business partners after the success of their portal project, regardless of everything that happened between them- with a way shorter timeframe between those things than in canon.

Idk I just think that while it's true Ford has flaws I think that's true of... any other character on earth? and I just personally can't see a reading of their dynamic that's abusive being true. and that's not only for textual, canonical reasons but a matter of framing between Bill & Ford vs Fidds & Ford. I think "well abused people are capable of abuse too!" is a fair point to make but in this context seems superfluous and really committed to this idea that Ford is just as bad of a person as Bill, or something, that often happens with abuse victims in or out of fiction.

but that's just me

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Giving Spencer Head for The First Time [Spencer x Reader]

Warnings: 18+, Graphic Depictions of Oral Sex (M Receiving), Handjob, Inexperienced Spencer, Submissive Spencer, Teasing, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Petnames, No Pronouns used for Reader Except ‘You’.

From between Spencer’s thighs, looking up at him beneath your lashes, you could see his chest heave, his lips parted and his eyes hooded as he looked upon you. On your knees, you placed your hand on his, held him, kept him grounded. And you smiled.

“You can back out if you want to,” you said, voice low and incongruous to the compromising scene unfolding. Spencer’s trousers lay pooled at his ankles, and, squeezing his thigh with a feather-light softness, you watched him swallow thickly, his eyes squeeze shut, then open as he tried to gain some semblance of control over his body. Which, if the rate at which his cock was stiffening was anything to go by, you could see he was failing to do.

“No, no—“ he said with haste, shaking his head, eyes widening. “I want to — I really do. It’s just…” His flickering gaze settled on you, and, with all the patience in the world, you sat back in your calves, looked up at him and waited for an answer. You never broke eye contact once.

“I’m just worried that…” Spencer’s fists clenched, unclenched, his knuckles whitening. He swallowed again. “Just scared I won’t do it correctly,” 

You felt your heart thrum, the quiet tone of Spencer’s voice leaving you with the insatiable need to care for him, to reassure him. Your smile widened, eyes crinkling beneath the weight of your friend’s genuine nature. You swore something akin to doubt flashed in his eyes. You sought to alleviate him of it.

“Spence,” you said, limbo-low. Your hands slid up to the precipice of his thighs. Squeezed. His breath staggered. “You don’t have to do anything.” You shifted as you felt your calves grow numb. “Just let me take care of you,” You pressed your lips to his thigh, chaste even amidst the situation. Spencer gasped. Quiet.

“You ready, Big Boy ?” Your eyes shone as you gazed up at him. And, in that second, Spencer forgot anything and everything that wasn’t you.

He nodded, for he did not trust his voice would not betray him and belie the fried-nerve feeling of ants crawling beneath his skin, of butterflies in his stomach. You wore your smile, never faltering for a moment. And, turning your attention to where Spencer needed you most, with careful, eager hands, you traced your nails up the sides of his thighs, coming to stop only at the waistband of his boxers.

You could see the wet patch forming at the front. Before you could allow Spencer to anticipate what you would do, you ran your tongue across the cotton, tasting salt and warmth. Spencer’s breath shuttered, eyes screwing shut, head thrown back. The space between your legs warmed at the sound of the beginning of Spencer’s unravellment.

This whole situation has been the by-product of a discussion between yourself and Spencer, who, after being grilled as to who his most memorable sexual encounter was, cracked.

“Never had one before,” he told you, staring down into his glass, tracing the rim with a slender finger. Ruminating. He didn’t — couldn’t — look at you, even as you drew close, eyes wide and lips parted. You refused to believe him at first, but the unmistakable flush of pink on his cheeks and the shallow glow in his eyes told you that he was in fact being truthful. You had no clue as to how you’d never come to learn this before, especially since you and Spencer had been best friends for years. But, as you asked him to “Look at me, Spence. Please,” you realised why.

He was embarrassed.

You knew he’d held some shallow insecurity towards never having scored a date with anyone before, despite you telling him many times that: 1.) he could date anyone he wanted because he was an incredible person (and very attractive), and 2.) if he actually went up to someone and asked them out, he’d stand a much higher chance of actually going on a date. But alas, Spencer had never tried. And so, here you were. Until, from somewhere within the back of your mind, perhaps the culmination of fantasies you’d never even think to divulge to your dearest friend, that an idea volunteered itself.

“We’ll,” you said, looking down at Spencer’s drink, trying not to find his gaze. “What if…I helped you ?”

To that, Spencer simply looked up at you, the crease between his brow forming as he considered (and likely tried to discern) what you were suggesting. You bit the inside of your lip, sucked at the gum, and elucidated. “What if I gave you an experience so you…don’t feel as bad about it anymore ?” Your heart hammered in your chest. You liked Spencer, truly, you did, and the idea of not only being rejected by him, but losing your friendship, haunted you. And yet, you had no idea why you suggested such an idea. But, after a second’s silence, then two, then three, Spencer seemed to boot up again, his eyes widening.

“You…you would do that for me ?” He said, voice almost quivering, thin. You smiled, placed a hand atop his and squeezed it.

“What are besties for ?”

And so, here you were; stationed between Spencer’s legs, mouthing the cloth restraining his member. You could feel the force with which Spencer gripped the comforter, his head lying against the backrest of the sofa. Tracing the stiffening shape of him with eager lips, you hooked your fingers over the edges of his underwear, tugging them down. Pulling back, you dragged your nails down the expanse of his thighs, felt goosebumps form along his skin in your wake. His cock was only half-visible to you, bulging beneath the cotton as if trying to escape. You slid his boxers so far before Spencer’s weight prevented you from relinquishing him of his burden. Your voice sang to him, called to him: “Spence, Sweetie, I need you to lift your hips for me,”

He did so, though without full commitment as he could only find enough strength and will to bring his hips an inch or two from the sofa before dropping back down. Meanwhile, you slid his boxers over his knees, heard them drop to his ankles, disturbing the buckle of his belt and causing a minute clink to be heard.

Spencer was long, veiny, his tip already reddening, beading with pre. You watched for a moment, took in all the details and twitches and the most prominent vein. You felt your core tighten.

Evidently, you must have been admiring Spencer for too long as, cracking an eye open, lips parted. He looked down at you. “What is it ?” He asked, that same quiet, thin tone as when you’d confronted him earlier present in his voice. Panic, perhaps. Or the tides of his insecurity lapping at his consciousness again. You placed your hands back on his thighs, rubbed up, down, saw his eye twitch. You smiled.

“Just seeing what a big boy you are,”

You saw Spencer’s chest stutter, his eye twitch and his lips pull further apart, as if trying to mouth around some invisible mass. Felt his breath halt. You leaned in, unravelled your tongue and, in full view of Spencer, flattened your wet muscle to the base of his cock. Spencer gasped, gripping the comforter, his hands gloves with white-hot strain. You drew your tongue up the length of his shaft, slow, deliberate. The sound of Spencer’s whining cut through to your core, sparking electricity within. As well as another idea.

You stopped just short of the tip, thin, viscous streaks of pre tingling on your tongue. Your breath hit against the sensitive skin of Spencer’s shaft; sent a shiver up his spine. And, when you didn’t move, remaining steadfast, Spencer’s eye cracked open, pupils gleaming and dark. “(Y/N)—“ he breathed. “Why…why’d you stop ?”

You felt yourself growing more and more feral by the minute; especially as that worried look crossed his disposition. You restrained yourself, resisted the urge to pounce on him and fuck him silly right now. You retracted. Spencer’s body twitched, he leaned up by a fraction, as if to reach out to pull you back. You knew you had him eating out of your palm, and if you were to be his first, you would be memorable. You’d make sure of it.

“Beg for it.”

Such a simple command, and yet Spencer only looked at you, dumbfounded, as if you spoke a language that did not yet exist. One beyond his fathom.

“I said—“ you brought a hand to the base of his shaft, took the girth between your fingers. You squeezed. Spencer yelled, his back arched and eyes screwed shut. A crease formed between his brows, the veins along his forehead starting to bulge.

“Beg for it.”

Spencer breathed heavily, his chest heaving, his hold on the blanket pulsating, the ebbing forming in his stomach tightening. Quietude. Then, he swallowed. Licked his lips. “Please (Y/N),” he said breathless, voice malnourished and skeletal. You could hear the cracks forming and you hadn’t even given him head yet.

“I need you — please, please touch me—“

You gave his shaft another squeeze, harder this time. He gasped, threw his head back over the lip of the backrest, his mouth hanging open. “Please,” he whispered.

You felt a sharp, cruel smile cross your features. And you made no effort to hide it.

“I’m barely touching you and you’re already whimpering. I have half a mind to just leave you like this and watch you struggle to get yourself off,” You let go of him, brought your hand to your mouth to spit into it. But that second of removed contact was too much as Spencer’s eyes snapped open, widened, doe and helpless, and searched for you.

“No!” He whined, softly enough to let you know that you possessed his submission, held all the cards, but packing enough volume that you could hear just how desperately he needed you. His fingers unfurled from the comforter; he looked to sit up. You got up onto your feet, your hand shooting out and flattening against his chest. You served him a sharp look, pushed him – persuaded him – to lie back down. His heart pounded beneath your touch.

“I call the shots here, Spence. Don’t make me angry or I’ll leave you all alone.”

He blinked at you, lips parted and gobsmacked. His gaze dropped to the floor, his lips threading together in resignation  — submission. He obeyed, lay back. You smiled. 

“Good boy.”

Now, hand lubricated, you got onto your knees, attached your fingers to the base of Spencer’s cock and felt him pulse. His tip was even more red than before, leaking profusely. 

“Hmm, I’m impressed. I’ve never seen anyone get this worked up so quickly.” You told him. You worked your hand towards the tip, falling just short before descending to the base again. Spencer’s chest fluttered, his breath shuttering, a light moan laced between his feathered panting. The closest thing to a cohesive response.

“I always thought you’d be big, but never this big,” you continued. As pre wept from his tip, you gathered it beneath your hand, used it to slip your hand up and down the expanse off his shaft with artificial ease. Faster. Your core clenched; you bit your lip. “Always wondered how you’d feel inside me,”

You gave Spencer another squeeze, grip tightening around his cock. He moaned — yelped — high-pitched and restless as your words reached him, stirred electricity in his centre. That, and the hold you had on him, enacting what he’d only ever been able to dream about.

Already, you could tell he was getting close. Even after only a few minutes, you could feel him twitching in ways he hadn’t earlier, seen the way he bit his lip, trying to keep from permeating the air with his moans. Telltale signs you’d witnessed in him before. Only once, when you’d heard him pleasuring himself, and when you’d peaked in, he was on the precipice. Making the same face as he did now. He never lasted long. Even by his own hand, he’d fall victim to an orgasm sooner rather than later. And you knew he wouldn’t last long now, especially with someone else pumping him, bringing him to the edge.

“You close, Baby?” Your voice was soft and concerned. The song of deception. Spencer, with his eyes squeezed shut and his faculties long since scattered to the four winds, nodded, the gesture a chore with his head bent over the back of the sofa. But not lost on you. “Use your words, Spence.” 

“Ye-yes,” he fumbled, voice weak, barely capable of standing on its own. Cracking.

“Look at me,” you said, firming your voice. Your wrist was starting to ache, but you persevered, feeling an expanding wetness between your legs become apparent as the sound of squelching and breathy, virgin moans filled the space.

Spencer, perhaps out of fear of you leaving him high and dry, or a simple carnal need to finish, could only open his eyes. His body had little strength or will to make him sit up, to give you anything more than a glistening, pleading, half-lidded stare; a symphony of euphoria the soundtrack to your front-seat viewing of his destruction.

“Am I the first person who’s ever touched you like this?” You knew the answer. You just wanted to hear him say it. Wanted him to admit to how you were unravelling him, inch by inch, strand by strand. His lips fell apart, but no answer prevailed. Particularly when you brushed over a sensitive spot just shy of the tip — one you’d intentionally missed before. He moaned, loudly, his back arching into your touch, eyes clenching shut.

“Oh no, you will answer me,” you said. Your grip on his dick began to loosen, soften. The sound of panic - hyperventilation - fell from Spencer’s lips.

“Yes!” He exclaimed, voice cut and scathed with ecstasy. “Yes– god, yes! you are–”

You bit the inside of your lip, the urge to relieve yourself of the heaviness forming in your core, the electric euphoria growing there, becoming too all-encompassing to ignore.

“Did you imagine that your first would be me?” This was a genuine question. Not that you’d stop now if the answer was anything other than what you wanted to hear. But still, the ego trip would be worth the risk.

Spencer quietened. A second’s deliberation to cross an already destroyed boundary from which neither of you could ever return. Long enough for your heart to slip and drop.

“Yes,” Spencer breathed, quieter than before “Only you.” 

And bounce back.

Fireworks fizzled in your chest, the urge to smile burned your cheeks. Your newfound vigour showed as you moved faster, hungry still, across Spencer’s shaft. He cried out.

“Mmm, good boy,” you said, voice glazed with a sweetness. “Being so honest.”

He was on the verge now. One step from falling into the throws of an orgasm.

“(Y/N),” he whimpered. He almost sounded scared, afraid of the static euphoria threatening to overtake him, to send him spiralling into a bursting, rippling, all-consuming ecstasy. His hands gripped at the sofa beneath him — whatever was within his grasp — leaving marks where his nails clawed at the fabric. “I’m so close—“

“I know, Baby,” you said. You smiled, thin and pensive. “I know.”

Without warning, you released him. Sat back on your calves and watched the scene unfold.

You thought he hadn’t noticed at first with how his breathing remained hasted, stumbling and staggering with breathy moans, whines and gasps. But, as the seconds rolled by, you saw the crease in Spencer’s brow deepen. Then his eyes slipped open. He saw you, sat back, doing nothing but gaze at him, doing nothing to alleviate the heavy, sopping, red, ravenous monster between his thighs. The one you had created. He groaned, hard. Whined.

“Why…why’d you stop?” He asked, his voice gaining volume the longer he was left unattended. The pleasure in his stomach was beginning to ebb away, fleeing him, shedding. He wrapped a hand about his base, and, biting his lip, tried to finish what you’d started. 

Not that you’d let that happen.

You came out of nowhere, grabbing Spencer’s wrist, bent it ‘til he winced, mouth widened in a silent cry, and his fingers slipped from his cock. Your face, narrowed and harsh, scowled.

“Oh no,” you said, almost tutted. “You don’t get to finish until I say so.”

“W-what?” His voice was high with incredulity, breathless with betrayal. “Why?” You couldn’t ignore the sound of betrayal, of injustice, in Spencer’s voice. It made something between your legs tighten. You leaned closer, and, as if to mirror you, so did Spencer.

“Because I wanna see you screaming and crying and begging by the time I’m through with you.”

You scarcely gave Spencer time to unpack your statement before you took his softening member between your lips and slid your tongue across the tip. Spencer cried out, hips rutting up in reflex, his body acting if it’s own accord. He gasped, breath knocked out of him.

You could taste salt as your lips engulfed the tip, allowing Spencer the small mercy of accustoming himself to this new feeling before overloading him. It was potent, viscous and sticky, having dried some before you book him into your mouth. You sucked, gently, and watched Spencer’s face scrunch up, his teeth bared as the foreign feeling of being touched by someone other than himself settled in his core. You hummed, the vibration causing Spencer to groan, his vein to twitch.

Your tongue lay flat against the side of his member as you mother the tip, descending an inch and taking more of him into your waiting cavern. You know Spencer would be long, but after what you’d seen — felt — you knew he would be a challenge. And you weren’t one to back down.

“(Y-Y/N)”, Spencer whispered. “Please, please— suck me,”

He didn’t have to ask you twice.

You filled your lungs with as much air as they could carry and took another inch. Spencer jumped, a shock of euphoria, and clenched his fists. Gasped. You sucked. Hard. Spencer cried out, moaned, his back arching and forcing another inch into you. You suppressed a gag as he grew closer to the back of your throat, focussing instead on tracing his most prominent vein with your tongue.

“Right there—“ he gasped, “Please, don’t stop,”

His pleading was difficult to ignore. Dismiss. You sucked, pulled yourself up to his tip before plunging back down on him again. A ceaseless, remorseless rhythm. And Spencer could only let it happen. Your name fell from between his lips just as you’d always pictured it would; pleading and desperate. Anguished at the prospect of denial. He writhed beneath your touch, held down only by your hands gripping his thighs, inching closer and closer to his with every passing second, leaving crescent grooves in the sensitive skin just shy of his groin.

Your cheeks, hollowed, showcased an enthusiasm — and competition — you’d never exhibited before. Your steadfast need to be Spencer’s first and last; to be all that he could ever dream and more. To show him he’ll never have it as good as you can give him.

On a withdrawal, you took a deep breath and, preparing yourself for what was about to come next, took more of him, swallowed an inch or two more. The tip of your nose was tickled by dark, curled hairs. You persevered, the warmth of Spencer’s body drawing you in. You could smell the soap he’d used to wash himself with earlier that day.

At the sudden engulfment, Spencer gasped, his hips lifting as his stomach tightened, spasmed. He only seemed able to return to form when you squeezed his thighs, a silent command. You could feel him twitching. He’d be close soon. Very soon. And you had no intention of stopping him this time.

With a sly hand, your fingers slid closer to Spencer’s groin until you were just a centimetre from your goal. You looked up at him from beneath your lashes, saw the effect you were having on him: panting, moaning, forehead beading with sweat and his eyes welded shut as he tried to acclimatise to this gifted euphoria — to the many shades of ecstasy you draped him in. Your name was a spell written on his tongue, your touch the key that fit into his soul. His missing link. Everything he’s ever needed.

With slow, creeping fingers, you slid your palm beneath Spencer’s member, felt for what you were searching for. Found them.

You wrapped your fingers around his balls, and, at the unforeseen contact, Spencer let out a shrill gasp, jumping as you handled the sensitive skin. Your heart almost leapt into your throat as Spencer’s movement disrupted your rhythm, and you stopped. His eyes shot open and he stiffened. You glared back up at him, all that you needed to say written in your stare. Sit back down. Now.

And, as you ran your thumb over the skin, gently, Spencer’s breathing evened out. The ebbing of his phantom orgasm reminded him of all he needed to do. He sat back against the sofa for what you would make sure would be the last time. With a firm band, you let Spencer know exactly how little authority he had here. You gave his balls a squeeze. His half-lidded eyes glued shut once again as any neglect he may have been feeling faded away, replaced instead by a spasming between his legs, a twitching in his cock. You felt it, too. You almost grinned.

You resumed your pace before Spencer’s orgasm could elude him for a second time, sucking his cock, slipping your tongue in the groove of his tip, tasting the salty residue as it collected in your throat, just thin enough to cling to the inside. A reminder. And your handling of his testicles left Spencer almost welding himself to the sofa, pushing himself further and further into the fabric; anything to prolong this feeling — to not lose his sanity as you brought him hurtling towards salvation.

He was leaking profusely, practically draining himself of his fluids as his body clenched and perspired and quivered beneath your touch. Spencer wasn’t even forming words anymore, your name lost amidst the newly-formed tears bundling and streaking his cheeks; the half-thoughts and breathless moans that permeated the room, reminded you that this was in fact real. And, in the last moments before Spencer’s crashing end, you looked up at him.

Breathtaking may have been an understatement;  with his brunette tendrils sprawled behind him, his hairline and forehead dampened with sweat, tears slipping from between his eyes, he could have been the attribute — the image — of Humanity’s greatest Vices: Lust.

You knew you were in the last stretch. You just had to bring it home.

Gorging yourself on Spencer’s aching, sobbing member, you massages his balls in your hand, your fingers pulsing around them, squeezing them, moulding them. The ache in your throat and your jaw scarcely reached your mind as you dedicated yourself to breaking Spencer. Once and for all. And, as he practically wept, chest heaving and stuttering as he cried, panted, moaned, you swallowed, tightly, around his cock, making sure the tightest part of your throat engulfed his swollen tip.

Time stopped. Spencer’s jaw unhinged, his back arched, his heels dug into the floor. A second passed. Then, a strangled, wanton, anguished moan tore from the depths of his very being, a banshee scream as something within him snapped. Then, ecstasy. Sheer, unencumbered euphoria — the likes of which his infinitely ingenious mind couldn’t even begin to conjure.

“(Y-Y/N)!“ he cried, his voice tangling about your name like vines, tethering his very soul to you, your angel touch. Thick ropes of semen flowed from his tip, stray beads filling your mouth, coating your tongue, while the rest slid down your throat. You swallowed, both to prolong the waves of Spencer’s orgasm — the sculpture of Desire his face has become — and to glean the viscosity, the rawness, of Spencer’s load. Every time you swallowed, he moaned, helpless, his voice losing power with every excursion. Wilting. Leaving him capable now only of whining when your throat constricted him, milked him for all he was worth.

A minute passed. Spencer remained pinned to the sofa, weighted by his own fatigue. His eyes were no longer bolted shut but rather seemed to rest, the harsh lines protruding from the corners as he clenched them tightly receding, leaving him with an expression of the most serene. His cock still twitched every once in a while, but you could feel him softening by the second. He was spent, that much you knew. You withdrew, slowly, making sure that the both of you heard the obscene friction between your cum-coated tongue and his saliva-sodden member, ensuring you left a parting flick of your tongue across his slit, sending a jolt through him.

You sat back on your calves, panted. The haze which had overcome you, driven you to the extreme of taking Spencer to the edge of insanity and back, was beginning to settle, solidifying and sealing away your  possessive streak until it would be called into enlistment again. The taste of Spencer lingered in your mouth, beneath the crevices of your aching tongue, between your teeth. Your cheeks, tinted warm with exertion, we’re hot to the touch, your forehead moist with beads of sweat. Evidence of your doings.

Eventually, his breathing evening out, Spencer cracked his eyes open, chocolate pupils glistening, as if lit by the illumination of a third, newly opened eye. Realisation. He swallowed, Adam’s apple dipping and rising, and licked his lips.

“Did—“ his voice rasped. He flinched. “Did you finish?”

You suppressed a laugh and opted instead for a smile. For a super genius, Spencer really didn’t know much. You brushed the gap between his thighs, rested your arms atop them like planks of wood, and perched your chin atop them.

“That’s not how it works, Spence,” you said. The heat between your legs was receding, though a wetness remained, threaded into the fabric of your underwear. You shifted, tried to move so you couldn’t feel it. “But thank you for your consideration.”

Spencer looked down at you beneath hooded eyes. Light no longer danced in them with lust, an internal partner. Instead, something else dwelled.

A fractional whimsy, perhaps. Or…

Eagerness.

“Why don’t you teach me how it works, then?”

Your gaze, softening as fatigue overtook you, sharpened. Your brow furrowed, lips parted. Pupils dilated.

You were surprised.

When you didn’t say anything, Spencer leaned forward, finally able to muster the strength to do so, and met you. The top of his nose, button, tapped yours. He smiled. A watery, uncertain, yet enthused smile.

Regardless of how scarcely you believed it — how confident your dear, sweet, inexperienced Spencer had become — you refused to let the chance pass you by. And you smiled, wide and unabashed, and, one hand coming to grip his tie, you pressed your nose to his, peered into his eyes.

“I’d like nothing more, Doctor Reid,” you said, pulling him in by his tie and pressing your lips to his. And there, you could feel his smile broaden.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[jjkamochoso]

The Perfect Fit

Story Overview: Levi Ackerman begrudgingly finds himself falling in love with the Survey Corps’ seamstress. Will they be able to own up to their feelings for each other? Or is their love doomed to fail before they discover the truths of each other’s hearts? This slow burn reader insert story will be filled with angst, yearning, and a bit of mystery as we slowly unravel the truths behind Y/N’s past… and explore her and Levi’s future!

Chapter 10

Series Masterlist

Chapter 9 linked here

Chapter 11 linked here

Levi Ackerman x female reader

Warnings: cussing, suggestive jokes

The first two weeks of Levi’s healing went okay, him finally being resigned to the fact that he needed to rest after breaking ribs. He threw himself into the mountains of paperwork that had piled up because, in his words, “I can’t sit around scratching my ass while everyone else works.” Meanwhile, you were busy suturing up all of the uniforms that got ruined from the last expedition. The confession you two shared nights ago stayed nestled in the back of your mind as you went through the motions of work. You felt like a weight had been lifted from your chest and your tongue was no longer heavy with feelings unspoken. Levi now knew how deeply you cared for him and, better yet, didn’t run from his emotions as they were conveyed in his own manner.

By week 4, Levi had enough of not doing physical work. His sour mood permeated every room he moped into, cadets practically tripping over their feet to stay out of his way and spare themselves from the venom waiting to spill from his mouth. His patience was thinner than usual and he found himself snapping at everything and everyone. Even you weren’t spared of his foulness.

“Look, Levi, I’m just trying to help,” you had said one morning after he had struggled bending over to tie his shoe. You’d leaned down to tie the laces but he swatted you away, scowling.

“I’m not a damn baby. Leave me alone and get back to work.”

You gave him an unimpressed look. “You’re my captain but you’re not gonna boss me around like that.”

That irritated him further. “Listen, Sergeant. When I tell you to do something, you do it. Am I clear?”

You narrowed your eyes. “All due respect, Captain, but you taking your anger out on people for something they didn’t do isn’t nice. It sucks getting hurt, trust me, I know, but it’s not permanent.”

Levi didn’t respond. You could tell he was seething and you weren’t sure if it was from your blatant lack of respect for his authority or because you were right. Probably a mix of both.

“What do you know about what I’m going through? All you do is sit in here all day sewing. I have an important job that I have to get back to. People are relying on me.”

Levi’s finger was pointed toward you accusingly and you wished you had enough courage to snap it off his hand.

“I thought we were past the petty insults, Levi. You don’t need to be a jerk to me because of your inner turmoil or whatever. You’re right, I don’t give my heart and life like the other Scouts do, and I’m sorry for that. I don’t know what it’s like to see comrades die and maybe feel like it’s my fault. But my job is important in its own way, too, and I know you know that.”

You could see that your words made an impact because Levi’s expression changed from one of dismay to something that leaned more toward despair. You were right, of course—Levi had gone too far. He had been ridiculously upset at his own shortcomings when he went to the dining hall and saw all of the missing faces from the last expedition. Every time a soldier dies, he feels like a piece of himself dies with them. Sure, it was their duty to give it all for the sake of others, and he has no regrets about any of the choices he makes as a leader, but that sure as hell didn’t make any of the losses hurt less. He internalized their deaths as his fuel to keep going. He needed to get back to training as quickly as possible so he could make sure there weren’t as many casualties the next mission and his injury was preventing him from doing so. Levi also couldn’t get the night from a few weeks ago out of his head. He knew it was the right thing to share with you how he felt about you, but he couldn’t help but think you’d change your mind about caring for him after seeing him so vulnerable and useless. He reverted into his old ways of pushing everyone away, but he should’ve known that you weren’t the type to give up easily, especially on people you cared about.

He couldn’t meet your gaze as he spoke. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. But thanks for acknowledging it. Anyway, drop the shitty attitude. We’re going for a walk.”

You proceeded to exit the room but Levi stood in his previous spot.

“Did you break your legs, too? I said c’mon.” You motioned for him to come with you and he finally obliged. The walk outside was quiet, both of you unsure if the other wanted to talk. Levi’s eyes adjusted to the bright sun that warmed his body as he realized he hadn’t been in the open air the entire time he’d been injured. That was probably another reason why he was so grumpy. You, of course, had assumed this and decided he needed some time to rest outside and get Vitamin D in his system.

“Where are you taking me, brat?” he asked, trying his best to be annoyed but not finding it within him.

You gave him a sly smile and put your finger over your lips. “It’s a secret. You trust me, don’t you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately. But if you’re taking me somewhere to put me down like a lame horse I ask you do it quickly.”

“Hey! Dead horse jokes hit a little too close to home still,” you said, playfully scoffing. “Besides, you won’t want to repeat that in front of our gracious hosts for the morning.”

He didn’t know what you meant until he realized you were at the stables.

“I checked with the doctor the other day and she said it was still too early for you to ride your horse but we can give these guys some snacks if you’re up for it.”

Levi usually hated coming to the stables since it was dirty and smelled nasty but he couldn’t deny how his heart raced at the idea that you went out of your way to do something to better his well-being, even after he treated you rudely. He didn’t answer you but found his way to his horse, the only black one in the Survey Corps. You took that as a sign he’d agreed with your suggestion and you internally high five’d yourself at making a good call. You left to find some fruits and vegetables for the animals. You were gone for a good 20 minutes, hoping Levi would enjoy his alone time. When you came back, you saw that you were right—the captain had his hand outstretched to his horse’s snout and was on the receiving end of unstoppable licks. He looked the most at ease than you had seen him in a while and the sight of him bonding with his horse melted your heart. You handed him a carrot to feed the steed but he refused.

“You should feed him. I know how lonely you are without your own horse and that could help.”

It was a short sentence but it hit your gut with a huge impact. Levi truly did care for you, even if he was bad at showing it sometimes. You appreciated the little gesture, putting the vegetable in your grasp and offering it to the hulking creature. He ate it gratefully and you found yourself snuggling into the horse as Levi’s hand stayed stroking its face.

“Horses are just so cute. I wanna give him a big smooch!” You leaned in and gave Levi’s horse a small peck, giggling at Levi’s shocked face.

“What? Are you jealous?” you asked.

“Tch. Are you stupid? That’s disgusting.”

“Me kissing the horse or the thought of me kissing you?”

Your teasing made the tips of his ears turn red as he huffed in annoyance.

“Use your brain and figure it out,” he grumbled, leaving to feed the other horses. Your laughter echoed throughout the stables, the horses stamping their feet and joining in the fun. After a few hours and the morning turned to afternoon, you could see that Levi was getting tired from his outing.

“I’m starving. Wanna grab some lunch?” you suggested as you heard Levi’s stomach grumble. When you walked into the dining hall, there was a commotion from your regular table.

“Oh hey, here comes the duo! We haven’t seen either of you around, we thought maybe you didn’t like us anymore,” Petra said, wearing a fake frown.

Oluo chimed in. “They’re together all the time now, so if they don’t like us, at least we know they like each other!”

A round of flirtatious sounding “ooh’s” were chorused and you saw Levi give him a death glare.

“You’re not familiar with that feeling, are you, Oluo?”

The whole table burst out in uncontrollable laughter as Oluo pouted and it was like old times again. You and Levi put down your filled trays and began to eat, listening to the funny stories being swapped by your friends. As you took a bite of bread, you felt some of your hair getting pulled and saw Levi plucking something out of it.

“You have hay in your hair, idiot.” He placed the stray piece on the side of his tray to dispose of later and you went back to eating. Little did you know, the whole table was trying to hide their shock at the loving gesture their captain brazenly displayed.

“Really? Right in front of my soup?” Gunther groaned while Petra punched him in the arm to be quiet. When the meal was finished, Levi took his leave while you stayed behind to catch up with your friends.

“So, hay in your hair, huh? Did you and the captain go for a romp in the stables?” snickered Oluo and you choked on your drink.

“Wha-what? Don’t be crass. I don’t know why you would think that,” you said, embarrassment creeping up your body. You were fine getting teased about anything other than your love life, or lack thereof. That topic flustered you to no end and Squad Levi picked up on that, fast.

“Hmm? So you didn’t ride the famed black stallion?” Eld smirked. You wanted to die then and there.

“Guys, stop. I didn’t-W-we don’t… that’s gross. We’re not like that. We’re just good friends, that’s all.” Your stammering spurred on more hoots and hollers as they ignored the substance of your words. Your chair scraped the floor as you stood and slammed your hands down on the table.

“Please knock it off!”

The whole dining hall went silent. You hadn’t meant to be that loud but you caught the attention of everyone in the room. Your friends looked at you with wide eyes, surprised at your outburst.

“We were just having fun, y/n, we didn’t mean to make you upset,” said Petra.

“We go too far sometimes. Sorry,” replied Gunther. The other guys nodded solemnly. You sat back down and put your head in your hands.

“Sorry guys. It’s not you… well, okay, it was you a little bit, but I’ve just had a day.”

“We’ve all been there, kid. Don’t worry about it.” Oluo placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“Besides, there’s no one else we’d rather see our beloved captain with!”

“Petra!” you whined, seeing her smile, “we’re not together. I promise you that much.”

The group exchanged glances.

“Are you sure?” asked Gunther, “because I’ve never seen Levi be so gentle with anyone before.”

“Yeah,” Eld added, “you fooled us. I would’ve guessed you two were married by the way he acts around you.”

Their words were comforting. The connection you and Levi shared was something unseen before by any of his closest comrades which brought you a sense of peace that this really was something special.

“All I know is that Levi and I have a profound sense of trust in each other. I’m not sure how to describe it any better than that but I hope it’s enough for you guys to understand what I mean.”

Apparently it was a good enough description for your friends because they finally left you alone about it, opting instead to talk about a poor cadet who was left hanging upside down by their ODM gear for an hour during training. You kindly excused yourself from the conversation to clear your tray and head back to work. You felt a long arm wrap around your shoulders before you could leave the dining hall and you were met with Hange’s face millimeters from your own.

“Hay in your hair, huh?” They gasped before breaking out into a giddy smile. “Did you and Levi finally bang?!”

Only a few minutes after Levi entered his office, his door flew open, swinging wildly on its hinges, and there you stood, huffing angrily.

“I have to get out of this place for a few days. You up for that trip to the interior?”

Chapter 11

Taglist: @blueeclipsepaperstudent @raginginferno267 @come-away-with-me87

[chiharuhashibira]

𝓗𝓮𝓵𝓵𝓸 𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓷𝓪-𝓼𝓪𝓷~

I don't think I should talk too much in this one-shot.

I'll just write it.

Little context: Saying to someone, "the sunset is beautiful isn't it" is a beautiful way to express your intense affection for them while recognising the hard part of letting them go. It's quite the opposite of “the moon is beautiful, isn't it?”.

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑺𝒖𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒕 𝑰𝒔 𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍, 𝑰𝒔𝒏'𝒕 𝑰𝒕?

𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐗 𝐆��!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐌𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐀𝐔)

Content Warnings: None ^^

Genre: Drama/Angst/Romance

"Y/N, have you ever wished that you could just live a normal life?"

"What do you mean?"

"Would you try to change anything if you could undo things?"

"I don't understand, Giyu. What are you trying to say?"

Pouting, I looked at Giyu and saw the somberness in his blue eyes. He was staring at the twilight, and I couldn't help but feel my heartbeat race.

Giyu looks so wonderful right now. He always does.

I never thought I would find myself in this state, a year after we became best friends. I never expected that the day when I'd fall for him would come. And yes, I know that I shouldn't feel this way, but it seems inevitable, isn't it?

I could say that everything that happened was unexpected, but it's one of the best surprises that happened to me.

Tomioka turned to look at me. There, I saw how the sun rays made him look almost ethereal and surreal at the same time. The way the beams of the sun caressed his seemingly pale skin and ravenette locks woke up the butterflies in my stomach. His deep blue orbs added fuel to the fire that caused my knees to feel weak.

Behind that somberness, a glint of wonder shone. And that brought back all the memories.

I didn't fall for him just because of his looks. I fell for Giyu because of who he is and all the things he has done for me.

This man had done so much for me in a short span of time. He knows I don't trust people that easily, and yet he has proven to me that not all are as bad as what I've portrayed them to be.

Tomioka's not the most sociable person, but when it comes to me, it seems like a new persona will suddenly show up. I could tell that he did all that he could to gain my trust.

The support that he had given me on every occasion, big or small, could be proof of everything. Our daily midnight calls and undying conversations about everything under the sun can also explain it.

He's even undergoing a rigorous training for quite a while, but yes, he makes time for me. Even the extent to which he's willing to sacrifice just to see me for six hours once or twice a month will be a testament to how dedicated this man is towards me.

Giyu's efforts didn't just gain my trust. He also unconsciously made me fall in love with him.

There are times where his notions make me think, what if he does all of this because he likes me back?

I'm his go-to person for everything. I even saw his craziest side, which seemed to hide away from the world. Giyu had unravelled himself on me slowly but surely. I am sure that every special thing that he does is just for me. Just for me.

He'd said it not once, but maybe three times. He's told me that he never usually does these things with other people. And yes, that made me quite happy and content. But again...

Why is Giyu doing this for me?

We could be friends for all eternity, but perhaps I wouldn't still be able to find the courage to ask him that.

I can't.

I just can't risk this wonderful friendship because of my curiosity.

I know I deserved to know, but do I really want to know that truth if the consequence of that would be losing him forever?

I've been asking myself another question too for so long. What if I am just delusional? What if all I am doing right now is just romanticising things that he does because I love him? What if everything is just in my head?

But why are you looking at me this way, Giyu? Why are you speaking to me so kindly that it melts me to the core? Why do you share lots of things with me? You used to use songs to tell me what you felt, until all my songs were also yours.

Why do you smile at me that way? Why do you choose to make all those sacrifices for me over anyone else?

Why is it me, Giyu?

These gentle caresses, the way you play with my hair, your embrace, and the way you hold my hand every time you have the chance to do so...

These actions are all the opposite of your aversion to physical interaction. I would never have thought I'd ever have had these experiences with you the first time I met you.

You're so gloomy.

You seem colder than the ice itself.

Then why are you radiating so much heat that it burns me?

Why me? Why is it me, Giyu?

"I'm just thinking, how would it feel if I decided to choose another path before? Like, how would it feel to have the perfect life?"

"What is the perfect life for you, though?"

"Hmm, perhaps it's like how I imagined it to be before. Having the perfect career, marrying at 25, and having my very own wonderful kids."

I wasn't able to give a retort to what you had just said. Giyu... Haven't you told me before that you didn't dream of marrying? Haven't you told me that you had never fallen in love once in your life?

Then, why are you asking me this now?

Why is it the opposite of what you told me before, again?

"Oh..."

"I mean. I just wonder how it would feel to have my own perfect family. I guess that would feel great."

"Yeah. What if you had all of those?"

"I don't know. Haven't you also asked yourself those questions?"

"I have lots of what-ifs, Giyu."

And one of those what-ifs is: what if you're now thinking this way because you want to make it happen with me?

But, of course, that would never happen. You don't like me that way, right? I'm just a friend.

It seems like no matter how I wish or manifest things to happen, you won't really fall for me, Giyu.

"Like what?"

What if you just loved me back? Why don't you just fall in love with me as easily as I fell in love with you? As far as I know, I did everything to try to show you my feelings. But it seems like it is not enough.

I'm not enough, and I'll never be enough.

"What if I'll never find love? You know me, Giyu. Behind all this shitty, tough facade, I'm a fucking hopeless romantic."

Giyu didn't answer me. Instead, he just looked back at the sunset and heaved a sigh.

"Then I guess we'll grow old together."

"Grow old together?"

He appears to be flushed by my reaction. His answer eventually shut down my hopes, which came like a flash flood.

"Just kidding. Y/N. You know what? You're still young, and I don't want you to be as miserable as me. Find love, then. Or let yourself fall in love? Whatever. The thing is, don't be too hard on yourself. Don't exhaust your heart on something that isn't worth it. You know?"

His monologue came to me like a slap in the face.

Don't exhaust your heart on something that isn't worth it.

"But how do I know if someone or something is worth it, Giyu? How do I know when to let go?"

Slowly, Giyu looked into my eyes. He seemed lost. In times like this, I wanted to be his compass. I wanted to be the answer, or at least, the light that'd guide him towards the answer. But it seems like now isn't that day, as he placed a hand over my shoulder and spoke up.

"I wish I could tell you, Y/N. But I think I won't be able to answer that. My heart is just too tired for love. I don't think I'll ever fall in love with anyone, Y/N."

He won't ever know how his words completely devastated me. How it confused me to the core.

All I want to do now is disappear.

I still wanted to ask him back. Why does he do these things for me? What's this effort all about, then?

Because if you wanted to just heal me, Giyu, you did more than that. You have been the only good thing in my life. You have been the peace that I am looking for whenever I need it. You made me think that the world is beautiful once again.

I think a tear had escaped from my eyes, as the next thing I felt was Giyu's thumb caressing my cheek. "Why are you crying? Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?" He looked concerned, and that shattered me.

I wanted to scream at him to stop with his kindness and sweet gestures, as it confuses me a lot.

But I didn't.

Instead, I buried my face in his chest and spoke up between my sobs. "I think I know the answer, Giyu."

"What are you talking about?"

I didn't answer, so Giyu pulled out and wiped my face with his hankerchief. "Hey, stop crying. I'm worried about you. Did I say anything bad?"

No, you just made me realise that I should have stopped a long time ago. I should let you go.

"No... I mean, perhaps it's just my hormones. I'm sorry."

"Okay. But you sure—"

"Yes. Giyu."

He looked at me, still having that sombre expression, so then... I gulped and looked at the sunset that he had been adoring for quite a while.

I took in the remnants of today's daylight and pointed out the horizon. I know you're used to me telling you how the moon is lovely, but perhaps that won't happen again.

"Giyu, look. The sunset is beautiful, isn't it?"

𝓜𝔂 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓱𝓾𝓻𝓽𝓼 𝓱𝓾𝓱𝓾

I mean! Look at this one-shot T_T It hurts so much!

Idk why I had this idea all of a sudden. 🥺

Anyways. Thank you for reading!

Feel free to reblog, comment, and request!

~𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓾-𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷🌸

[sachiko1309]

I trust you

Summary: Aubrey is slowly working through her past with her abusive father. Carlisle takes his time helping her, after Aubreys preschool sister tells him about Aubreys angel wings.

This is part of a story I write on Wattpad, as I am conviced this man needs more attention. Its called "Save Haven - Carlise Cullen". Feel free to hop over, my account name is in my description. 🥰

Word count: 3508

Warnings: This contains adult content Minors DNI, smut, praise, slight hurt to comfort

After my mother and my siblings had left, I was cuddled into Carlisles arms. We were laying in his bed, after I had taken a long hot shower to get rid of the feelings of the day. He was abstinently painting little pictures on my arm, making my heart stutter every now and then. I knew he could hear it, because every time my heart skipped a beat, he stopped what he was doing looking at me with smug eyes. “You can hear it, can you?” I asked, turning onto my back. Carlisle was laying on his side, propped up on one elbow, looking down at me softly. “I can.” He simply answered. I knew his senses were sharper than those of normal humans, he told me that much, but I didn’t exactly know how much he could sense.

“How good do you hear it?” I asked, suddenly very anxious for his answer. Looking out of the window, he chuckled. “I can hear the cars pass on the highway.” My eyes went big on his confession. “That’s like five miles away.” “4.6.” He corrected me.

“Oh my god.” I felt my face flush bright red. “So, you hear everything? How can you stay sane with that? I mean you work at a hospital doesn’t the noises get too much.” But then it hit me. Eyes widening even wider. “Wait, does that mean you can smell my blood too?”

My utter confusion and embarrassment made him laugh with his soft tenor, that made my heart flutter. “Yes. I can hear and smell everything of you.”

“What do I smell like?” I asked, now wondering, if he found it appealing. He rolled on top of my, pressing me down into the mattress. “You smell like a sweet flower bed. It reminds me off apple blossom and bluebells. Very intoxicating to be honest.” Then he started kissing my face, placing soft little touches all over it. “I can hear how your heart stutters, when I touch you, or kiss you. I can smell, when you are afraid, or when you are getting aroused. The later really does get hard to ignore sometimes, because it makes me want to rip the clothes off you.”

“You know when I…?” I stared at him in pure horror. Thinking back to all the times I was secretly ogling him. Well apparently, not that secretly. I mean I knew Edward could read my thoughts and Jasper feel my emotions. That’s something I had to get used to, but learning that Carlisle was able to pick on to it made it even more embarrassing.

“Yep. Every time your hormonal balance changes I know it.” He cockily said, nudging the tip of my nose. “But don’t worry. You are not the only one that has a hard time keeping their needs a secret. I swear Edward would have thrown up many times, if he would have been able to.” Hiding his face in my neck, he took a deep breath, inhaling my scent, a low growl rumbling through him. It should have scared me. Should have made me want to run away from him. But in that very moment, something unraveled deep inside of me. I was home. He was my home.

“Carlisle.” I whispered, my voice inches from tipping into a sinful moan. Instantly, his head shot up. Eyes hungry. Black with lust. “Get out.” He groaned, eyes not leaving mine. Only seconds later, I could hear the front door loudly fall into its frame. I knew they only did it for me. “You send them away.” I concluded, unsure what to say or think. As if he sensed my fear, he backed off, leaning back on his knees. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He said, voice strained like he was fighting internally for control. “We don’t have to do anything. Its just precautious.”

Sitting up, I reached out for him. My inner need to touch him nearly unbearable. “Just be careful.” I whispered.

“Of course, love. Whatever you need.” Slowly he came back to me. Pushing me into the bed once more. As he towered over me, I couldn’t decide whether I was scared or not. His presence making me feel safe and anxious at the same time. “Don’t be afraid, my love. I wont hurt you, I promise.” He said, taking my face into his cold hand. “We have all the time in the world.” Bending down for a kiss he wrapped me in his arms. Holding his weight with one hand on top of me, while the other carefully wandered down my side. I shrieked, when his cold skin touched my sensitive side, causing him to pull back. But as fast as I could I put his hand back. “You’re just cold.” I mumbled, a tiny smile on my lips.

My words made him chuckle. “You told your mom you wanted me to take more action.” He said, slowly pushing his hand underneath my shirt. “Tell me, when I am overstepping a boundary.” His voice was es soft as butter, smoothing over the last doubts I had according to this happening. I tried my best to stay focused, but my shaky voice snitched on how much he affected me: “You have been listening in, on our conversation.”

He started kissing my neck, sucking my skin between his teeth. “I would view it more as making sure, my girl is alright.”

“Your girl.” I moaned, head starting to cloud from his scent.

“You like that? Me calling you my girl?” His voice didn’t hide the smile forming on his lips, when he kissed down my throat. I could feel him taking the collar of my shirt between his teeth, tugging on it. “Stop playing with me, Carlisle.” I whimpered, arching my back into his hands. “Take it off, please.”

“Answer me first.” He whispered. Lips back on my ear. The sweet growl that was accompanying his words, send shivers down my spine, letting my hair stand up in goosebumps.

“Yes, Carlisle. Please.” I begged, sighting heavily, when he finally took my shirt off. Now I was only wearing soft blue panties. His eyes instantly trained on my bare chest. I could feel the blush creep into my cheeks. Suddenly feeling way out of place. I shrunk into the bed, trying to hide behind my hands, but he just pulled them away. “Don’t hide from me, love. You are beautiful.”

“I am not. I have scars all over my body. And you… You are this godly creature, literally sculptured from marble. Compared to you I am nothing.” I whispered, feeling the tears prick in my eyes. Taking me into his arms he pressed me down into the bed, as if he wanted me to be protected from everything. “Love no. Don’t think about yourself like that. You are the most beautiful woman on this planet, angel.” My eyes shot up at the new nickname. “What did you just call me?”

He sighted deeply. “Emilia told me. She wanted me to know, that you have angel wings how she calls it.” I froze on the spot, a sick burn starting in my stomach. “What else did you find out today?”

“I know everything, what you and your mom spoke about.” He answered and I could hear the apology swinging in his words.

“So you know, I got my tubes tied? And that I nearly got killed at eleven?” I asked, pushing him away, so I could look in his eyes. He nodded. “I do and I don’t care. To me you are beautiful and strong no matter what.” He stayed silent for a while, before he spoke again. “Can I see them?”

“What?” My eyes shot up.

“Your scars. Will you show me?” There was nothing but pure honesty in his eyes. That’s probably what made me give in. Nodding I pushed him back, then turning onto my stomach. As soon as his eyes landed on my back, he took a sharp breath.

“I have scars all over my body. But my back is the worse. That’s why I got these wings tattooed. I wanted something else than my scars to stand out.” My voice was thin. I didn’t dare to speak up, fearing I would break out and cry.

“Its beautiful.” He whispered. “Can I touch it?”

“Yes. It doesn’t hurt. If that’s what you were wondering.” I allowed him. A cold hand faintly brushing over my skin. “Good to know. But I was merely checking for your consent. I don’t want to push anything onto you.”

“God, Carlisle.” I sighted. “You could never. You are perfect in any way.” He chuckled at my words and I could feel the bed dip underneath me, indicating he was moving around. And indeed, seconds later, I could feel his cold presence hovering over my body, icy lips kissing my back.

I reached out for his hand next to my head, clamping my fingers around his wrist. He sank down on his elbow, taking my hand into his bigger one. The new intimate position, suddenly making me feel hot. Blindly I tugged on his shirt. “Carlisle. I need you. Please.” My desperateness jumpstarted him into action. A soft twirl of air indicating his movements. Before I could even fully comprehend, what was happening, he was back on top of me. Now I could feel his cold chest on my bare back. Strong thighs pressing my legs apart, the feeling of cotton pressing against my lower back. So he had left his boxers on.

Again, his cold lips were smothering my body, this time much rougher and more demanding than before. He was caging me in between his hard body and the soft bed. Cold hands gripping my hands, playing with my fingers. Involuntarily I bucked my hips against his lap, when he sucked the soft skin underneath my ear between his teeth, making him growl out at the sudden contact. Him growling like that, stirred something deep inside of me. Ripping out a sudden urge to submit to him. To let him guide me through everything. “Carlisle.” I called out, pressing myself against his body. Only to be met with his strong chest pressing me down. “God, please. I need you.” Whimpering, begging for more. “Angel.” He groaned, bucking his hips against me.

At this point, I was sure; my panties were soaked. And by the way he was frantically jumping backwards, crashing into his big bookshelf, my assumption was confirmed. I turned onto my back, shuffling towards the headboard. Looking back up to him, I could see his eyes trained between my legs, nostrils flaring, muscles as tense as could be. “Aubrey…” He whined, clenching his fist on his side.

“Its alright Carlisle. I trust you.” I purred, spreading my legs further for him to see.

“What if I hurt you?” He growled. “This is not right. We should stop.”

“You wont hurt me.” I retorted.

“You don’t know that!” He nearly yelled, tilting his head back. I gulped hard. Seeing him irritated that much, send a shiver down my spine, reminding me of my father. I took a deep breath, pushing the unwanted thought out of my head. “What can I do, to make you feel better? I want to help you. Tell me, what can I do?” His eyes snapped back onto my face. “Promise me to tell me, when I hurt you.” He rasped, slowly walking towards the bed.

“Promise.”

He knelt down on the bed, eyes again wandering over my body. “So beautiful… so, so beautiful.” Mumbling he froze on his spot, just looking at me. I stretched out an arm, leading his hand towards my body. “You can touch me.” I whispered, suppressing the shudder that went through my body at his cold fingers. “Touch me where ever you like. Just please, for the love of god, stop holding back.”

“I have to hold back, love. One wrong move and I could kill you.” He gritted out between his teeth. I rolled my eyes, sinking back into the covers. “That’s not what I meant. I was talking about your 1600s stuck up gentleman attitude. Its making it worse not to crush on you any harder. More action. Remember?”

My confession, plastered a wicked smile on his face. “You want more action, love?” He growled, crawling on top of me.

“Carlisle, please.” I breathed out, my voice dripping in need and desire.

“Such a needy little girl.” He teased. “I will take my time with you, there is no rush for us. You deserve to be taken care of.” The fingers of his right hand wandering over my body, taking paths of pure sensation, getting more and more intense, the longer he took his time. Writhing underneath him, I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him flush against my core. Slowly, he started grinding his hips against mine, causing the first moan to roll over my lips.

He caught my lips with his, letting his cold hand flutter between us. I was in heaven, when his fingers finally found my core. My brain foggy from his scent, his touches, his lips. My body reacting to his touches automatically. Suddenly, I could hear fabric tearing, then his cold fingers found their way to my folds. I gasped at the icy feeling, pulling away from his lips. My lungs sucking in the air, causing my head to spin at the sudden overflow of oxygen.

Then I felt the first finger, entering my core, clasping onto his shoulders, I stiffened up. Stopping his actions, Carlisle kissed the side of my neck up and down, whispering into my ear: “Let me take care of you. You are safe.” Taking a deep breath, I did exactly as told. Relaxing as much as I could. Once he realized, I gave up my barriers, he pushed another finger inside of me. Scissoring them apart, creating a steady rhythm.

I closed my eyes, lips hanging open, the faint sound of his name, flowing through the room. A hot fire started burning deep inside of me, threatening to take over my whole body. “You are doing so good. Taking my fingers so well, love.” He praised me, voice soft like silken ropes. Carefully he pressed his thumb onto my clit, circling it, while his fingers massaged me deep inside. I could feel the blood rush up to my face, painting it in a light pink shade, my breathing going ridged and abrupt. Hearing my heart beating so loud in my ears, I nearly missed his murmurs. Sweet little praises.

His mouth wandered all over my neck and my chest, sucking purple bruises all over my skin, before kissing the sharp pain away. I could feel my legs shake, the fire in my stomach burning brighter than before. My walls started to flutter, sucking in his fingers. Eyes rolling into the back of my head, I grabbed his arm, his name ringing through the room, at the suddenness my orgasm washed over me. Carefully he pulled his fingers out, placing his cold hand onto my throbbing core. I just dwelled in the feeling of my subsiding orgasm, forgetting everything around me for a brief moment. The only thing spinning through my head was Carlisle.

“Carlisle.” I mewled. “I want more. Please.” Instead of answering, he pressed his lips on mine, kissing me with such passion and longing, that he had my head reeling. His hands roamed freely over my body, grabbing a hold of everything he could. I shivered under his cold touch, yearning for him to finally fuck me. I wanted him so bad, that I didn’t care how desperate I seemed, letting my hands wander to the waistband of his boxers I tugged on them, signaling him what I wanted.

“Are you sure, love? We don’t have to…” He was still concerned for my wellbeing, but I just couldn’t hold back anymore: “Stop being so nice and fuck me already.” My voice lazed with hunger and anticipation must have been what finally broke down his walls. One deep growl on his lips, he ripped his boxers from his body, resting between my legs.

Looking me deep into the eyes he eased his member into me. Arms propped up on both sides of my head. I hissed at the intrusion and the slight pain the stretch brought with him. He was packed. Not like disproportionate, but definitely something to get used to. One slow final push he bottomed out, pulling a wretched moan from my lips. “I am sorry, love. I promise its going away.”

“Lucky thing you have a second function as a cooling pad.” I joked, trying to ease the tension. It worked, because one of my favorite soft smiles crept onto his face. Shaking his head he slowly started to move, always checking in if I had any pain. Soon the weird feeling of being filled, subsided completely pushed away by another fire. Stretching my walls heavenly every time he pulled out and pushed back in.

I let my hands wander from his neck to his shoulders, holding onto him, pressing my chest against his. A soft moan escaping my lips. “Do it again. Let me hear how much this pleasures you.” He growled, picking his pace up once he saw how I melted in his hands. “Carlisle!” I yelped. “More I need more. Please. I want to be your girl. Let me be your girl. Claim me as yours.” I was babbling before I could even think about what it would do to him.

“God, Aubrey…” He groaned. “You are the death of me, I swear.” But when he heard me call out his name again, all of his self control seemed to have vanished. Taking one leg in his hand, he threw it over his shoulder, effectively thrusting into me deeper than before. His pace started to become ruthless, the grip on my thigh surely bruising. But I didn’t care. I wanted him to let go. Seeing him fall apart for me.

“My pretty little mate. All mine to have. All mine to fuck.” He snarled possessively, making me moan in return: “Yes, take me, Carlisle. I belong to you.” Grabbing my wrists with his hands, he pinned them down over my head, caging me in under his tall frame. Eyes not leaving mine and if it wouldn’t have been for him to hold be like this, I was sure I would have been pushed against the headboard by now. But I didn’t care. In no way would I stop him right now. His cock was hitting my spongey sweet spot deep inside of me, every time he thrusted into me. Mewled sounds were falling from my lips, mixing with his strained growls. I could see he was holding back for me. Both, his strength and orgasm. That shoved another wave of hot pleasure through my body. “I am close…” I whimpered, my core pulsating around his hard cock. “I know. I can feel it, my love. Just let go for me, angel. Do it for me. Cum for me.”

At this point my legs were trembling around his waist, my whole body shuddering in pure bliss. And then my second orgasm pulled me over the edge. Letting me fall into the deep abyss of pleasure. Arching my back, I wrapped my legs around his waist, fighting his hands pinning me down. I moaned out his name over and over again the waves of my orgasm seemingly never ending.  Having me this worked up underneath him, pussy pulsating for him, his name being called out in pure satisfaction, dragged him down as well. I could feel his cold seed shooting into me, painting my walls white. He growled into my ear, sinking his teeth into the pillow beside me, effectively destroying it.

It took him a few moments to catch his demeanor again. Pressing me close to himself he turned around, pulling me on his chest. “You did so good, love. Took me so well.” His breath fanned over my face, lulling me to sleep. “I promise I will always love and protect you. You mean everything to me. You are the sole being of my existence. My heart, my soul, my everything.” Listening to his sweet ramblings, I cherished the intimate moment that surrounded us, to my dismay interrupted to soon, by his seed trickling out of my core. Wriggling out of his arms, I tried to get up and walk over to his adjoined bathroom, but he was quicker.

Scooping me from my feet, he carried me over, sitting me down on the edge of the bathtub. To quick for my eyes to process it he was kneeling in front of me, cleaning the sticky residue from my thighs and between my legs. Then he carried me back to bed, but I interrupted him. “I need to brush my teeth first.”

Turning on his heels, he walked back sitting me down once more.

[pespillo]

Hey you mind giving me a quick rundown of the Emperor's Acolyte AU please? :)

Around 9 years ago, Belos sailed off to the other side of the world to meet with the Titan Trappers, along with Collector and the past Golden Guard. During the time meeting them, Belos came to known that the Trappers had successfully kidnapped the very last Titan known alive, a direct descendant of the Boiling Isles titan, the leader had come to tell them that even if tempted to sacrifice it right after it had been born and found, he knew that they needed to put all their collective effort in raising it up until its first True Cry (their powers awakening) to be able to communicate with the Grand Huntsman and thus bring forth a new era of glory of their cult.

With interest, Belos had kept Collector away from this conversation, but let them known that he had come across the tablet and it was in his possession , ready to be awakened when needed. Thus they thought of striking up a deal ; Belos had more than enough resources to raise the titan for sacrifice, and he would give them the tablet in the given time, and when the time comes after the Day of Unity they would reunify for a grand sacrifice, and the world left behind will be for the Trappers to conquer. With this deal made that baby titan was sent away with Belos back to the Isles, and the GG was tasked with giving the Trappers the tablet (on the notion that it "belonged" to them as a relic), but after he wandered off by curiosity , he saw the shrine of the Huntsman and the carnage of the murals, and decided this was not people to be trusted, believing in the Will of the Titan meant that that child deserved to live, thus the GG purposefully misplaced the tablet back in the Isles (ending up in the depths of the Bonesborough library) and gave the Trappers a decoy (Belos did expect Collector to remain silent for the next decade, and the Trappers expected the tablet to be not activated in any way) .

And so Belos raises Childe (the only kind of name he´s given King), alongside with Hunter right after knowing the GG´s betrayal n swiftly killing him off, Childe has been raised to believe that he was saved from a group of witches by Belos that wanted to kill him, and that actually, all of the witches and demons of the Demon Realm would want to kill him if they knew he was a Titan, that they are parasites to the Isles and he was brought into this land to take him to a new paradise. But that he has to help him to bring the Day of Unity so he can wipe out all these supposed maggots away from his father and lay his soul and divine mission to rest.

Belos routinely experiments on Childe throughout the years, he´s taken off half his horns to drill bone samples, he takes his blood to see if he can use it on a portal, even getting to the point of drinking his blood because it makes him think it gets his curse under control, all while treating him like a pet, and making the child resentful and volatile towards others, like an attack dog, making him think he´s the only person in this world that understands him. Childe has come to known about Hunter being a grimwalker and is under the impression they are dolls that are just made to obey, Belos has told him they dont really feel Real Emotions, just copying what Real People do.

Kikimora has become aware of King being a Titan simply because Belos needed someone to take care of him when he´s busy with Hunter, and she´s been made to make this an oath to obey the Titan´s will (this will backfire for Belos later).

As years pass by Childe knows the DoU is fast approaching, but so is his curiosity about the world around him outside the castle, his illusions of grandeur and arrogance makes him seek out more, things get even dicier when Luz comes into the picture along Eda, thus thats how everything unravels and Childe will come to realize about Belos betrayal and his own past and more.

[artist-issues]

Hello! My ask is about The Rise Of Skywalker. I would like to read your analysis of Reylo's scenes such as their dialogues in the film, Rey's declaration to Ben ("I did want to take your hand. Ben's hand."), Ben's return to the light side and the reylo kiss. The declaration, Ben's return and the kiss, for me, are the only good things about this film.

I thought all of the Rise of Skywalker was really terrible. Terrible writing, terrible plot, and even some pretty terrible characterizations. (I thought the actors did their best, though.)

Basically, ROS had several threads that TLJ and TFA had braided together. All it needed to do was tie those threads off. But instead, it unraveled them and tangled them up and said “done! All tied up!”

For example:

Thread 1: Finn’s journey from fear to faith.

Thread 2: Leia’s hope for her son.

Thread 3: Poe’s journey from hero to leader.

Thread 4: Hux’s growing, rabid desire for control. (It’s why the organization’s called the First “ORDER”)

Thread 5: Kylo Ren’s learning that power won’t make him feel secure.

Thread 6: Rey’s learning that she doesn’t need to be “somebody” because it’s all about something bigger than herself.

Thread 7: Kylo Ren and Rey learning their respective lessons by finding the answers in each other.

TLJ took what TFA started and got you those threads. Then TROS said “never mind, we don’t like those threads” with most of them. For example, Poe and Finn suddenly have nothing to do. For example, Finn is not doing anything that requires the faith he began building at the end of TLJ; he’s just following Rey around. Poe is not learning how to lead, he’s just info-dumping and trying quick three-man hero missions, unlike the lesson he learned at the end of TLJ. Hux is not strategizing with rabid extremism for control; he’s just pettily throwing his life away to get back at Kylo Ren. Et Cetera. The threads all get unraveled or tangled up or left dangling uselessly.

EXCEPT for Thread 7.

They make an attempt at “Kylo Ren and Rey learning their respective lessons by deepening their bond.” The problem is, without the other threads, that one just doesn’t fit any better than the rest of the story.

First off, I 100% agree that Kylo Ren and Rey would be involved romantically, in some way, eventually. There’s literally no way around it. Romantic attachment is choosing to commit to someone on an intimate level. Because they’re Force Bonded, and because they are the only people in the universe who have similar identity crises and deep family-related angst, they were bound to intimately understand each other. They started caring about each other in TLJ. All TROS had to do was fan the flames of that care up in a way that led to their character developments concluding.

Rey just needed to demonstrate more of the letting-go she demonstrated at the end of TLJ: she wants Kylo Ren to be Light, but she realizes there’s nothing she can do to force it, even if she begs and pleads, so she just keeps doing the right thing on her end and trusts the Force, believing he’ll come to the right conclusion in the end no matter how much evil he’s done. What’s that ladies and gentlemen? It’s called ✨ unconditional love. ✨

Then Kylo Ren just needed to see that love. Literally, just see and continuously experience it. Even if he’s trying to hunt her down and kill her or take everything from her or whatever, she just keeps refusing to kill him and believing he’ll turn good. After all, that’s more than his parents did for him back when they sent him away—and since then, whatever unconditional love Rey shows him is strengthened by the examples of unconditional love Han Solo and Luke showed right before they died. Plus the alternative to accepting unconditional love—murdering everything that might give him a sense of power—hasn’t been making him feel any better. So he was primed for redemption via Rey.

That’s all they needed to do in TROS. Not so hard, just write a reason for her to save his life or spare it again, even after their previous encounter and even given his new status as Supreme Leader. He’s halfway there. Continued pushes are all that’s needed.

Just like Luke Skywalker in the Revenge of the Sith, Rey and Kylo Ren don’t really need to develop much more in the final movie of their trilogy. They just need to put what the first two movies taught them to a big final test.

Anyway. With that in mind:

Let me give you the bite-sized version 😅

The Force-Searching Scenes - I don’t like these because they’re all Kylo Ren searching for Rey, with little to no engagement from her. She feels more like she’s given up on him in these scenes and is just trying to win an argument whenever he barges into her brain. He, on the other hand, might be looking for her, but it’s with one hand on his grandfather’s mask. Which is totally the opposite of him “letting the past die. Kill it, if you have to.” So he’s taking weird steps backward, toward TFA, as if TLJ never happened… and that tarnishes his motives for finding Rey, in my mind. If he’s going back to trusting the past and the idea of his grandfather, then why does he want to turn Rey to the dark side? When Vader failed to turn Luke, he tried to murder him. Kylo Ren knows that. So meditating on a mask he should be giving up on in order to find and turn Rey makes no sense, so it takes the tension out of those scenes for me.

Fight Scenes - Again, it makes no sense that Kylo Ren would still be pursuing turning Rey to the dark side so doggedly. Neither of them could convince the other at the end of TLJ. They split a lightsaber in half to prove it. Now, that doesn’t mean they should be giving up on each other completely. But Kylo Ren should be acting like he’s given up on her, even if just to convince himself. That’s what he’s done this whole time: turned to killing the people who fail him to make himself feel more powerful. She has a reason to keep believing in him: she’s on the Light Side of the Force. But instead, she’s the one acting like she wants nothing more to do with him. He mentions how he’s going to turn her to the dark side multiple times in the movie. But she doesn’t say more than one quipped question hinting that she still wants him on the light side. So the “attachment” focus of their fights loses all it’s tension because again, it doesn’t make sense. After TLJ, he should be at least trying to give up on her and pursue killing her, if anything. And she should be steadfastly believing in him, while pursuing doing the right thing no matter what he does. That’s where they were in their character development. More fighting barely makes sense.

Healing Scene - I liked this scene only when Rey heals Kylo Ren. Their fight beforehand, and her ramming his lightsaber into him, still makes no sense. She’s angry at him because of her connection to Palpatine and she’s fighting him like that’s going to exorcise her identity…but Rey being a dark, angry descendant of Palpatine never made sense (it unravels her whole character development.) So her motivations in this scene don’t make sense…until she heals him. Then, suddenly, there’s a glimpse of that Rey we left on the Millenium Falcon in TLJ: she’s healing him, even though he might just stand up and attack her again, because she genuinely believes he’s Ben and she just needs to show him mercy until he comes around to believing it. And THAT is part of what turns him. So I like that: I just think it was executed really poorly. She should never have been healing him from a wound she caused.

The Kiss - The kiss was just basically the TROS storytellers confirming that they were romantically attached instead of just enemies-to-friends/Allie’s attached. Because…for some reason they had to confirm that visually. I just think, again, that they didn’t set it up and execute it well. They have no conversations and no significant attention paid toward each other between the healing scene and the final battle. They might be force-linked, but the audience needed to see that bond turned romantic, or him turned good before any overt romantic gestures, much earlier on. Other than that, I like that he healed her. I love Adam Driver’s acting in that whole scene. Makes me wish they gave him more to do.

The Death Scene - This should not have happened. It was lazy. Kylo Ren is a character who has been trying to fulfill himself by making BIG, final (emphasis on “final”) choices. Having him make one more big final choice, to end his own life, was not good character development. He should’ve had to live with what he’d done so he could learn from his mistakes. That’s where his whole character was headed. He’s always failed to learn from his past: he thinks he can just erase it. You know what giving up your life for a different hero and then fading away is? It’s nice, but it’s just another “erase” choice. Additionally? It’s terrible for Rey’s story, too. She finally had someone she chose, someone she waited for who actually came back, somebody who understood her…somebody who’s redemption rewarded her long faith…and she’s left alone again. That’s just the worst. Plus, what did she need him to heal her for? What exactly did she die of? He was way more injured than she was.

What they should’ve done was, Kylo Ren and Rey save the day, and then he’s condemned to death for his crimes by the New Republic, but in honor of Leia’s life of sacrifice and belief in him, he’s given enough of a pardon to simply be banished to the unknown reaches. And Rey goes with him, because she can finally stop waiting, she loves seeing the galaxy, and they can learn about the Force together…plus, they’re obviously deeply connected. And that would be a great homage to Leia’s legacy as a character who never gives up on hope, and that hope is ultimately rewarded. Instead of having her give her life to reach him…so he can live for an hour or so before also dying.

Long story short…you’re right! I just think all the elements you liked should’ve been way more central, built up to, and placed where they fit in a better movie!

[hxnbi]

The world of BUNGO STRAY DOGS is entirely circled around the cores of betrayal and loyalty. There are distinct sides—the good and the bad—organizations and factions that each person with a gifted power stands alongside, whether that be the cruelness of the Port Mafia, the righteousness of the Detective Agency, the Hunting Dogs, the Guild, or even the Decay of the Angel. 

But what if that betrayal came from someone he considered trusted? And far beyond that, the only one he would ever get to love and cherish?

You, his one and only confidant, turned out to be working for the other side. His entire world crashes.

You’re not who you said you were. 

In fact, your entire presence was just to trick him—an elaborate ploy to infiltrate and sabotage. Whether for the Port Mafia, the Guild, the Detective Agency, it hurt—so much more than he ever thought. This life he had, with you, all shattered before his very eyes. 

It was only a matter of time, he thought, before someone would deceive him—stab him in the back—yet again. But that betrayal in his chest still destroyed him from the inside out. Each cut deeper than the last, leaving behind metaphorical scars that never truly healed. Even now, as he stood alone exactly where he heard of your treachery, shortly then fleeing and disappearing, almost as if you were never there to begin with, he felt the weight of it all.

He had let himself believe, if only for a fleeting moment, that he had found someone he could trust, someone who saw him for who he truly was. But now, as all but the truth unravelled before him, he realized that it had all been a lie—a cruel, deceptive illusion designed to lure him into a trap. And it worked.

The realization sank in. Now what? 

His sense of justice. Everything that he’d been striving for. Were you an exception or not? You were the enemy, someone who was deeply involved in the schemes and machinations of the organization you were from. 

Never did he want to believe that this was all true. How could he dare to lay his hands on you…?

Unfortunately, that decision wasn’t up to him. But when he is confronted with you face to face for the first time, he hesitates. And you saw that. You stared back at him, as if daring him to act first. 

In the depths of his eyes, you saw something more.

Whether he is the one to put you down or not, he wouldn’t—he couldn't—be the one to make that choice. And you were well aware of that, after being with him for so long. 

For in that moment, with the knife poised to strike, he realized the truth. It wasn't his hand that held the power to end your life—it was yours.

In a final act of sacrifice and twisted compassion, you took matters into your own hands. Because, with a knife right in your heart, you guided the knife and directed it toward your own flesh, holding that knife and plunging even deeper into your own stomach. With each agonizing twist of the knife, blood coated your and his own hand, even as you continued to bleed, you did not falter. 

You wanted to make it easy for him. 

He was the one who had to kill you. All he had to do was act. But in the end, it was you who held his fate in your hands. You knew he couldn’t do the job. All the while, he stood there, paralyzed by the weight of his own indecision. 

And though the pain of betrayal would never truly fade, so too would the pain of your loss.

atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara, ryūnosuke akutagawa, michizō tachihara, doppo kunikida, jun'ichirō tanizaki, kenji miyazawa, osamu dazai, ranpo edogawa, ango sakaguchi, edgar allan poe, sigma, tetchō suehiro, ōchi fukuchi, yukichi fukuzawa