#WHERE I DO NOT REACH THE END OF THIS PART

[lymtw]

Toji can't ignore the sounds of your moans and whimpers through the wall. He's sitting on the couch, in the living room, unable to do anything about it, because you're still mad at him, and he's frustrated as hell, because he's so painfully hard, that he can see the his dick twitching against the front of his sweats. He refuses to take care of it himself when he knows you're only a room away. To his convenience, you're already in the mood—clearly—but to his inconvenience, you're punishing him. You're scattering his name into your moans to throw salt in the wound, to really make it unbearable, and truthfully, it's getting to him.

Toji reached his limit when he heard you let out a sharp gasp, followed by the sound of those cries you let out when you cum hard. He strides over to your shared bedroom, opening the door to reveal your naked lower body, and your tank top scrunched up over your chest. His breath hitches, the throbbing in his pants intensifying as he rakes his eyes over your frame and absorbs the entire sight of you.

"You're really gonna get yourself off to the thought of me, when i'm right outside?" His incredulous tone doesn't do a good job of hiding the desperation that led him to barge into the room where you're splayed out so indecently.

"Mhm..." you hum, blissfully. You release a heavy, satisfied sigh. "That's exactly what I just did, 'cause you're on a time out," you say, tugging your shirt back down and pulling up your underwear, before sitting up to search for your shorts. "Don't worry. I finished. I'm done torturing you."

He can't let it be over. This normally wouldn't be enough to satisfy you. From what he heard, it seems like you only came once.

"Baby, no," he almost whines. He's outwardly desperate for you, having gone way too long without being allowed to touch you, intimately. "Let me. Please," he says, climbing onto the bed. His hands make contact with the skin of your bare legs and glide over the length of your shins, continuing their way up to part your thighs to make room for him to wedge himself between them.

"I did what you asked of me. Said I was sorry and repeated after you to call myself dumb." It was such a silly moment that made the storm in your mind subside for a minute or two.

Toji resists the urge to smile when he sees you suppressing the curl of your own lips. His hands go to your waist, not stopping there. The warmth of his palms travels up your edges, meeting the sides of your breasts and briefly palming the tops of them, in order to get to your shoulders. He grips your shoulders, using them as leverage to guide you back down to the bed. Focus is embedded into his features as he takes the thin material of your shirt between his rough fingertips and peels it off your skin until he reveals the gorgeous view of one of his favorite parts of your body.

Like a domestic cat, he lays his body on you, and plants his face between your breasts. It doesn't take long for him to begin appreciating your chest, pressing multiple slow kisses to your skin. He's basking in the softness you withheld from him.

"What else do you want from me, doll?"

You let out a small, quiet sigh, through your nose. You feel a little irritated with yourself for not even putting up a fight against his affection. You always say you're not going to let him touch you for a certain amount of time, as punishment for the dumb things he does, and yet somehow it always ends up this way—him nuzzling into your chest.

"I want you to stop being a jealous maniac," you say, the words coming out softer than you intended them to, as you welcome defeat and run your fingers through his soft, dark locks.

"Mm-mm, anything but that," he responds, muffled by your warm skin. His hands caress your body, rubbing your waist and massaging your hips in a manner that would induce relaxation under different circumstances. You can't let yourself fall into that comfort until you've talked things out.

"Toji, you flashed your gun at someone who mistook me for somebody else." You attempt to keep yourself composed in order to communicate the issue efficiently. There's no need to raise your voice when you have him right there, lying comfortably on your chest.

"Mhm, I did that," Toji confirms, before planting a soft kiss on the inner side of your right breast. "The dickwad must have been real blind if he had to get so close." He feels your chest rise with a deep inhale, then hears you let out the breath. With that, he knows you're still upset and he has to further elaborate on his actions. "He had his filthy paws on you and everything. I did what I thought was best to get him to fuck off."

You hum in mere acknowledgment. "Uh-huh, that's definitely the way to go about it. God forbid you verbalize your discomfort before threatening to use a bullet."

You feel a warm puff of air on your chest, similar to the sigh you let out, but less audible, and then a kiss directly between your breasts.

"I was right next to you, ma. He was looking at you in a way that he shouldn't have been. He looked at you the same way that I look at you. You don't need that from anyone else. And that stupid ass thing he said about supposedly feeling like he's seen you somewhere? He clearly said it to get a good look at you from up close."

"You really are insane, aren't you?" You ask, rhetorically, stilling the hand that's on the back of his head.

"Doll, I hate the idea of pulling the gun out in front of you. I don't ever wanna have to use it and scare you in the process, but he was actively trying to steal you from me. If he were just ogling you from afar, I might've acted differently, but he touched you. He fucking touched you. Who does shit like that?"

Toji can feel his blood boiling again, so he refocuses on your chest. He doesn't want to think about what happened anymore, when he's in his happy place, where he knows he belongs.

"Alright, Toji. Take a deep breath." You softened your voice to simmer down his emotions. You resumed the movement of your fingers carding through his hair, aiding him in calming down more.

He does as you say and releases a heavy breath. It's riddled with his discontented feelings. "You're supposed to be mine," he mumbles, before finally latching his lips around your nipple.

Toji needs reassurance, too. Him being an attractive, enormous, hulking man, has nothing to do with how secure he feels around you, his lover. It's easy to think that because he manages to turn heads wherever he goes, that he'll be fine when you get those same reactions, but the way you have him now, is proof that insecurity can reach even him. He needs to know that he's not going to lose you so easily, especially to someone as ridiculous as the man who managed to unsettle him.

You look down at him as he takes all the comfort he needs from your chest. "I'm all yours, Toji. You're the only one who will ever get a pass for that kind of psychotic behavior."

He hums, releasing your breast, before resting the side of his face down on your chest. "You make it sound like i'm toxic towards you."

Your chest jumps as you laugh, a gesture that makes Toji lift his gaze to look at you. Your expression managed to make him lighten up a little more.

"You're crazy, but I love you, regardless."

He groans, the sound cushioned by your soft skin. You're the one thing that holds up his sanity, yet somehow you're also the one who tests it by saying things like that to him.

"Let me have you," he says, his kisses beginning to trail up, towards your neck. "Please, let me have you, mama."

"Are you gonna keep threatening people when you get jealous?" You ask, your lips curling as be continues to kiss your delicate skin.

"Mhm," he confirms. "Like I said and you said," he speaks, into your neck, "you're mine. If people don't know it, i'll make sure they get it on the first go. There's no need to make mistakes."

You laugh. "Your possessiveness is intense."

"You're not a joke, to me," he says, looking at you. His expression is as serious as what he just said.

You grab the rolled up fabric of your shirt, with the intention of covering yourself. The ambience has gone more serious and it feels wrong to be so exposed in the moment.

"Don't cover yourself, yet. I want you, baby. Please." His knuckles graze your cheek, affectionately. Despite your chest being out on full display, his attention is centered on your face. He's reading your expression. You were laughing a few seconds ago and now you're as still as him.

"Be nice to me. I don't want you to be rough, this time." It's back to back gentleness with the way your voice reaches him and your smile manages to soothe the remaining sting he's feeling. It's like you're showing him the way you want him to handle you. "I'm yours, Toji. No amount of speed or aggression from your body against mine, will have an impact on the fact. Okay?"

He keeps his eyes on you for a couple more seconds, like he's letting your words sink in and fully envelop him. He repositions his hand, so that he's cupping your cheek, and a couple slow strokes of his thumb against your skin gave him the courage to lean down and kiss you. The second his lips meet yours, he wants more. Infinitely more. He's chasing kiss after kiss from you, utterly drunk on the feeling of your hands pulling him closer by his shirt. He'll consume you, at this point.

"Hm?" You hum, still awaiting his response.

"Got it, baby," he says, before connecting his lips to yours once more. He peppers the rest of your face with kisses, luring giggles from you at the barrage of affection.

This isn't the first time Toji has been revoked of his 'you privileges', and gotten them back, instantly. This has occurred many times in the years that you've been together. Going into a relationship with him, you never thought he'd be the jealous type, much less the type who would threaten someone's life over getting overly cozy with you. The first time he pulled something similar to this, it was a little frightening. You knew he kept a gun on him sometimes, but you figured it was strictly for life or death situations.

You were wrong.

Some weirdo was getting too comfortable with you, hand wrapped around your wrist and all. You clearly remember Toji being visibly bothered, because someone thought they could just swoop in and steal your focus from him. He watched for a minute or two as the man took in your beauty and complimented you on every aspect of your appearance. He really did his best to get you to follow him to his table, and though Toji thought the whole thing was a pathetic attempt, he couldn't help the feelings that began to bubble up as the man squeezed your arm. Toji did a dog whistle to grab the man's attention, and when he looked, he lifted his shirt, just enough to show the grip of his gun. Your stomach twisted and you felt like your heart was going to lurch out of your chest. The stranger just stood there for a second, looking at Toji, condescendingly, as if to insinuate that he knew he was bluffing, and when Toji reached for and grabbed ahold of the gun's handle, that same cocky man paled. He didn't even have to pull out the whole gun—the man had walked away by the time he had the grip in his hand— but you remained worried that he would notify someone about what happened, so you and Toji left.

To this day, Toji still scares people that way when he notices them invading your space in a manner that doesn't sit right with him. You're not scared anymore, when he does it, but the frustration of having to ditch wherever you are, in fear of being ratted out by whoever Toji threatened? It's still there, and you feel it every time. You know he does it out of love for you, but sometimes you wish he would take a second to talk to you, before he even thinks of hurting someone.

Toji has kissed your entire torso, by now. Your chest wasn't exempt from his attention, despite the amount of time he already spent on it. If anything, he refined the love he gave it with purposeful movement and significance towards every spot his lips brushed.

He nears your lower abdomen, wet kisses placed beneath your navel, going lower and lower until you can feel his breath being filtered through the front of your underwear. His hands go beneath the elastic band, cupping your hips without restriction as he kisses your clothed pelvis.

Your breathing picks up the slightest bit when his lips meet your slit through the thin layer. His tongue comes out and he does an experimental swipe of it against the fabric. You feel the space immediately heat up, from your arousal and from the warm wetness of his tongue, itself.

"Stay still for me, mama," he murmurs, kissing your inner thighs after spotting the quiver in them. "You nervous?" He asks, with a small curl of his lips.

"Of course, I am." You look into his eyes as you confirm it. You love him so dearly, that even after the years you've spent together, you still feel lightning coursing through you when he has you this way. This electric feeling doesn't prevent you from letting yourself enjoy what he gives you, nor does it hinder you from touching him and making him feel good. You don't become more hesitant towards him, because by now, you're well aware that your love for him coexists with butterflies. They reside in you, and are able to be lured out by him at any instant, despite your knowledge of the fact that he would gladly be someone's cause of death if they don't keep themselves in check around you.

"Love you," he says, kneading your hips as he leans in to press a few more warm kisses to your thinly veiled cunt. His eyes dart up to your face when you don't respond—he's a little lost on why you didn't say it back— until he sees how despite the way you just admitted to your nerves, he has you entirely at ease. You have a hand flat on the sheets, occasionally moving against the material beneath it, while your other hand rests on your stomach. Your chest is steady and your attention is on the ceiling, your expression serene—ethereally so.

His hands run down your hips, warm palms squeeze and feel up your thighs, gaining your eyes on him again. "You're not gonna say it back?" He asks, his voice deep enough to make the ache between your legs just that much more intense.

"You already know I do," you say, contrasting his demeanor with a giggle. He looks like a needy puppy with that glint that presents itself in his eyes.

"Mhm, doesn't mean I don't wanna hear it, again, or do you not love me, right now?"

You're caught by surprise with that one, a small, almost inaudible gasp, leaving you at the words. "I love you all the time, Toji. I love you now and I loved you earlier when I was pissed. It's not going away."

He's a little more impatient for you, now. His movement doesn't speed up, but his heartbeat is in his ears, and there's a tremble in his hands as he reaches for the elastic of your underwear. He pulls the garment down, wanting to smell and taste you more clearly. His cock jumps at the sight revealed. You're still so wet. He lets out a shuddered breath, now that your lower half is completely bared for him. His mouth comes closer and closer and his tongue comes out, making contact with your throbbing cunt for the first time.

"Toji." The sound is soft—unexaggerated—as his tongue laps at your warmth, tasting the sweet wetness that coats it. He could stay like this for hours, worshipping your entire body, while you touch him and gift him the prettiest sounds ever. He can't get enough of you, which is why when it looks like you're going to close your legs, he pins them down, entirely. His hands splay over your thighs and he keeps them there, because he isn't going to fight to give you the pleasure you deserve. He'll love on you until your body is begging him to stop, because he knows that your mouth can be misleading, at times.

He's taking it slow, just like you wanted him to. The most stimulation comes from him lightly sucking on your clit for brief moments at a time, just to hear your moans get the slightest bit louder. Every time he releases your sensitive pearl, he goes back to running his tongue through your drooling slit, the tip of the muscle nudging your clit, causing it to throb with need. Each graze of the wet warmth, makes you wonder if you should ask him to go faster, though you were the one who asked for this gentleness. You don't want to seem indecisive or come off as doubtful that he can make you cum this way. You know he can, but god, you want so much more. You feel like you're the one who's going insane with every flick of his tongue.

"That good, mama? Or do you want it slower?" He gives you a teasing smirk. Toji knows how you are. You say you want him to be soft and gentle with you, but when the time comes, you want more than what's given to you. You delve into greediness as seconds turn to minutes. You both have nowhere to be. Time is yours, and Toji intends to take advantage of that. He's going to fulfill your needs the way you want him to, but that doesn't mean he loses awareness of your little ticks. He feels the small twitches of your legs beneath his hands every time you feel his nose bump into your clit just before it gets hit by his tongue. He sees the way your hips sink into the mattress and your body quivers when they rise, again.

"G-Good. Don't go any slower," you respond, holding your voice as steady as possible.

"Mm... Faster?" He asks, his tone so calm yet sultry, that you can't tell if he's patronizing you. He doesn't miss the way light flashes, briefly, through your features. In an instant, you regain your composure. A simple hum is offered in response—a wordless brush off of his suggestion. The sound makes Toji smirk. How stubborn of you.

"I won't hold it against you," he says, pressing a kiss to the crease that joins your pelvis and your thigh, leaving an echoing feeling of need in your core. "Just say the word, ma." He presses more kisses to your skin, as if he's trying to persuade you to let him devour you.

"Mm-mm, this is good."

It's not what he's trying to get out of you, but he can keep going until you're hanging on by a measly thread.

He continues on with that same pace—licking, suckling, prodding—so gently, luring the cutest little mewls from you. It took a little longer, but eventually, your body started trembling with impending release.

"I'm gonna- Toji," you cry, tightening your fists around the sheets as he slowly circles his tongue over your clit, focusing on it entirely. Your moans grow needier and needier as you near the edge through such delicateness. The anticipation is killing him. He wants you to be louder. You wouldn't hate him for bringing you more pleasure, would you? It's a risk he's willing to take.

Without another doubt, he's messily making out with your cunt, causing more of your sweet nectar to drool out at a more rapid pace. Your breath hitches, a sharper rendition of his name cried out. Your hand reaches downward and grabs a fistful of his hair, tugging on it as he continues to ravage you. Your moans sound absolutely filthy. He doesn't detach his mouth from you for a single second. His hands finally release their pin on your thighs, allowing you to fully suffocate him when they shut around his head. His arms hook around your thighs, a harsh grip on them to keep you from scooting away from his relentless mouth when you cum. It's another strong, orgasm, that has you arching your back off the mattress and squirming as he continues devouring you through the intense sensation. Your hips roll in an attempt to get more of his mouth on you. Only when you start whimpering and attempting to twist out of his hold, does he ease up. He goes back to the original pace, soft kitten licks through your slit to lap up every drop of your sweetness, earning small twitches from your body, due to the sensitivity you feel.

You release the hold you have on his hair and relax your legs, unbending them and letting them fall comfortably on the bed. He finishes you off with a few kisses, thin strings of his saliva and your cum sticking to his lips, before snapping every time he loses contact with your cunt. His warm palms caress your thighs—a comforting gesture, as your sounds come to a halt and all that is heard is your breathing.

"You're so impatient," you playfully chide, a breathy laugh following.

"You wanted more," he responds, one more kiss placed on you before he licks his lips clean. "I'm really good at reading you."

"Yeah? You think so?" You ask, a teasing grin on your face.

"I know so," he responds. "Wouldn't it just be the worst if we've been together this long, and I didn't know almost everything about you, by now?" He repositions himself, now sitting on his knees to start ridding himself of his own clothes.

You manage a hum and a nod as you watch Toji pull off his shirt.

"Good thing that's not the case, and I do know basically everything about you. Down to the way your body reacts to me— the signals you create that let me know you're gonna cum all over my tongue, when your pretty mouth can't form words."

"So vulgar," you say, through flustered giggles.

"You can take it, mama," he teases, a smirk growing on his lips as you watch him pull off his sweats. His eyes stay on yours, as he kicks them off, letting them slide off the bed and onto the floor, before crawling back between your legs. You can feel his clothed hard-on pressing against your core as he takes your lips in his again. He's addicted to the feeling of your warm body against his.

His hands come down to cup your waist, his fingers molding into the soft flesh with every squeeze they offer. He pauses the make out, small breaths leaving him.

"Baby," he says, his voice almost a whisper, his lustfully darkened eyes narrowed on your starry ones. "I'm gonna kill the next person who hits on you in front of me." He goes back in for a few more quick kisses. "I'm not joking. I can't keep sparing them."

"Shh... All yours, Toji," you murmur, softly, pulling him back in to continue the flow of kisses. Your hand goes to the nape of his neck, the other settles on his shoulder. You hear him groaning quietly into the kisses as he continues grinding his hips into yours.

"Fuck, doll," he groans, pausing his lips on yours once again. "I need you."

You laugh, a warm sound that just adds on to his desire to have you. "So, take me, baby. I'm ready for you."

He gives you one more peck, the slyest smirk playing on his lips as he watches you lean forward for another one, only to be met with nothing.

"Ass," you grumble, playfully shoving his chest.

He chuckles, a deep rumble of a sound as he sits back to remove his boxers. He's not even ashamed of the mess of precum that accumulated in them. If anything, he's surprised he was able to hold in his load this entire time. Pleasantly surprised, because every drop will go to you, as always.

One minute you're sitting up to fully remove your shirt, pulling it up over your head, the next, in what seems like a flash, you're pushed back onto the bed, hands pinned above your head.

You giggle, looking up at him with a lingering smile. "Gentle."

"Mhm," he hums, leaning down to kiss your neck. "So gentle." Two misleading words that don't prepare you for the sensation of his teeth sinking into the crook of your neck.

Your bubbly laughter homes into his ears when his tongue runs over the indentations, luring a huff of a laugh from him.

You feel his cock run through your slick folds, his hips moving back and forth, slowly. Quiet breaths fill the silence that takes over the intimate moment. Toji runs his length through your slit one more time, before finally pushing his tip in. You gasp, feeling his cock begin to drive into you.

"F-Fuck, baby, let me touch you."

"In a minute." He sounds so calm and collected, but you can feel the grip he has on your wrists tighten and the bluntness of his nails pressing into your skin.

"No. Please."

"In a minute," he repeats.

"Pretty please?"

"You're so conflicting, mama. Love that you're begging, but at the same time, you're not listening." His hips draw back and thrust right back into you, his cock filling you up entirely, again.

"Oh fuck. Okay. Please, Toji," you whine.

Toji hums dismissively and picks up a rhythm that manages to get you to stop thinking about your pinned wrists. He lures soft, little moans out of you, listening closely as he plants warm, wet kisses on the side of your face, from your temple to your jaw.

"Just let me be good to you, baby. Alright?"

You hum, nodding your head.

"Yes?"

"Please, yes."

His thrusts become even more precise as he focuses on bringing pleasure to both of you, deep groans and grunts blending together with your higher pitched moans. A few minutes pass and you feel the pressure on your arms ease up, your hands free to roam without restriction. The first thing you do is cup his jaw and bring him in for breathy kisses. You keep your hands on his face and he lets you turn his head in every which way to cover him with kisses. Your affection is intoxicating, and he can't get enough of it. He lets out a breathy laugh when you practically have a make out session with the scar on his lips, your melodic sounds of pleasure released against the strike as he continues to fuck into you. The last kiss you leave on the cicatrix is a big one. One that makes the obnoxious kissy sound and everything. He swipes his tongue over his scar, as if he's trying to catch remnants of the sugar you coated it with.

"Love you," you say, eyes darting over his handsome features and the lovestruck expression they create. You feel the way his hips stutter against you, his abs tensing with restraint before he recomposes himself. You glide your hands up and down his arms and repeat yourself for him. "Love you so much, Toji. I'm yours."

"Fuck— I fucking love you. You're all mine. My baby." He mutters more inaudible curses under his breath, his grip on your waist getting harsher and his thrusts growing quicker, with every sweet confirmation you offer.nYou whimper, nails digging into his biceps as you withstand the feeling of his cock relentlessly brushing that spot within you that makes you melt beneath him.

"Oh fuck, i'm close." He groans, feeling the way your walls spasm around him at the words. "Yeahhh, you want it, huh, baby? Want my cum?"

A shaky breath leaves you, your face observed up close and personal by Toji, through lust-brimmed, enamored, obsessed eyes. You squirm under all of him— his zoned in attention on you, his touch, his hot, tacky skin, his cock buried inside you—dragging in and out of your soft walls, in a manner that has your toes curling to the brink of actual pain. His fingers find your clit and rub it in rapid circular motions, causing your body to jolt at the sudden intensity of the enhanced pleasure.

You look up at him with your sparkling eyes. "Please... P-Please, Toji? I want it. Want you," you utter, as he brings you closer to your own orgasm.

"Fuck, okay. Okay, baby, gonna give it all to you." His hips pick up their pace a little more and he buries his face into your neck. You can hear the string of grunts and shuddered breaths that pair with his unraveling, right beneath your ear. Deep moans and pants flow past his lips, and his nails begin to leave crescent shapes on your sides. You feel his hot breath on your neck, the open mouthed puffs of air accompanied by the lewd sounds of him filling you with his warm, creamy cum. As he continues rutting into you, riding out every second of his orgasm and then some to get every last drop of his cum into you, he bites your delicate skin, the placement only a few centimeters above where he bit you the first time. He stays there for a few seconds, breathing heavily through his mouth and nose, before he loosens his bite, the gesture transitioning to sloppy kisses over the wet, saliva-coated indentations.

"Cum, doll," Toji mutters, feeling the way your cunt flutters around him when his fingers relocate your throbbing bundle of nerves. Your head sinks back into the pillow, allowing him to drag his kisses up the column of your neck, to feel the vibration of your sounds beneath his lips. Your nails go to his shoulders, dragging across the toned area of muscles, surely leaving behind some scratches. You cry out in utter bliss, your force of an orgasm echoing through your entire being. "There you go, mama," Toji purrs, in response to your body releasing the tension that came with the intensity of your pleasure. You tremble, your small, rapid whimpers and breaths evolving into full blown, unholy moans. "So, so pretty," he drawls out, engraving yet another one of your euphoric expressions into his memory. His fingers leave your clit, and his hips slow down to the point of merely grinding into you, to lure those final little whines out, before stilling entirely.

You shut your eyes to focus on calming your heaving chest for a few seconds, and when you open them again, you have the prettiest pair of green eyes staring down at you. You give Toji a lazy smile and a laugh, a sight that makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside. His heart races as he absorbs the visuals of your post-orgasm haze. Your luminous eyes devour him, that little satisfied smirk on your face is everything— god, he loves that you laugh even more at the way he can't stop staring at you.

Just like that, Toji is reminded of what got this sight revoked from him in the first place. He still doesn't feel like he's in the wrong for wanting to murder anyone who has far from just friendly intentions with you, but as you caress his face and hold his gaze with that tender look in your eyes, his desire to kill those who openly lust after you, becomes entirely justified in his mind. He's lost all reason to hold back. There's no longer any part of him that would feel remorse or guilt, even if you can't look him in the eyes for days after the matter. He'll grovel as much as he has to, to get you to give him your eyes, again. You'll just have to agree to disagree on this, because yes, you come home to him, you sleep in the same bed as him, you kiss and hold him, the body concealed by your clothes is a secret between you and him, you get tangled up in sheets with him and the lot of it— but he can't risk losing you to someone who's possibly better than him and searching for all the exact things you have to offer. You're for him, as he is for you.

Toji doesn't care how clingy he appears when you finish getting cleaned up and ready for bed. You carelessly toss yourself onto the mattress and pull the blanket over your body while you wait for Toji, who took the steps and walked around the bed to make it to his side. He finds your body beneath the covers and immediately rolls on top of you, adhering himself to you, again. His head rests on your chest, his arms wrapped tight around your body.

You're already prepared to give him the intimate aftercare that comes with days like this. You don't mind that he's heavy and that he's crushing you or that he's taking up all your space, again, after having been so close to you a little while ago. You'll do this is many times as you need to for him to understand that he's wanted and loved by you.

You press a kiss to the top of his head, and murmur a quiet 'love you'. Your fingers run through his damp hair, your nails gently scratching the back of his head, while your other hand rubs his back. You feel the extra warm skin of his shoulders, where you paid no mind to the pressure your nails applied on it, earlier.

"Does that hurt?" You ask, lightly tracing a couple of the mildly inflamed lines. He hums in denial, but you let up, anyway, and continue to just rub his back.

He groans quietly at your soothing touch, nuzzling further into you. "I'm yours, too, ma. All yours," he mumbles. "I don't want anyone else and I don't wanna see you with anyone else."

You smile softly at his admission. "You're more than enough for me, Toji. There's no one I want more than you— no, there's no one I want other than you," you correct. "You know how much I love you?"

"Mm... How much?" He asks, waiting for you to give him a number or even just an elongated 'so much', but instead, you surprise him with:

"I wouldn't be able to tell you."

He chuckles. "Really?"

"Yeah, really. If you want something accurate, I'll never shut up."

"Good thing I like when you talk my ear off. You wanna give me an inaccurate idea of how much?"

You hum like you're in thought, a giggle following when he pinches your waist, encouraging you to tell him. "I love you a lot, Toji. So much more than I will ever be able to say or show. We would have to conjoin our minds for you to understand exactly how much I love you, but even then, once our minds separate, your estimate will be entirely off again."

He lifts his head off your chest, and waits for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room. The moonlight seeping through the spaces between the curtains is the only source of light that allows him to get a mediocre view of you. "That's inaccurate?" He asks, looking at you with clear disbelief when his eyes finally adjust. You nod, smiling through the warmth that spread on your cheeks. "Now, I wanna know how much you love me, with complete accuracy. I have all the time in the world to listen to you, baby. Just keep talking to me." He presses a kiss to your cheek before lying back down on your chest and wrapping his arms around you, again.

You hugged him as tight as you could for a few seconds. The sound of you straining yourself made him laugh, because not only did he not let out a single groan, but you tired yourself out even more. You rested your arms on his back and just shut your eyes. It was the warmth and weight of his body on you, the feeling of his arms keeping you firmly against him, the security, that managed to lull you to sleep. Toji dozing off was simpler than that, because all he needs to be able to sleep soundly, is for you to be around.

[goteique]

| MY STARGIRL + rafayel, sylus, xavier, zayne. 

+cw. — f!reader, headcanon + scenarios format, established relationship, unprotected, s/d dynamics, explicit smut, rafayel is in heat, period sex, oral sex, f!overstim + m!overstim,  | +wc. — 3.5k |

+syn. — the thought of having a quickie with you occurred to him so suddenly and so enormously that all he needed was just to make it go away. However, it did not stop there.

+notes. — something possessed me while I wrote this. So happy that I’m finally making the debut post for this fandom & thanks to @hayatoseyepatch for beta reading all my lads pieces. | redirect to blog navigation

◈ RAFAYEL. 

“It’s just the tip baby,” Rafayel whispers against your ears followed by a prolonged groan. Encapsulated by his arms you feel immobile under his touch. He adds, “I promise.” You know him better than he knows himself. He says it's just the tip but the way he is being handsy with you, playing with the hem of your robes, pressing himself against you it does not strengthen the promise part of his word. 

“I don’t think you will. . .ahaAah!” His lips have already moved onto the bottom of your nape. You can feel his teeth sinking into your skin.  You can still look at the view of the vast blue of the sea through the window but as his hands skim under your dress cupping your breasts you moaningly exclaim, “I bet you won’t stop just at the tip.” There is a hint of mockery in your tone, underneath that, a challenge. Rafayel can take on challenges quite well even though he will whine about them throughout, very well when it is coming from you but not a taunt. That’s still a little hard to digest for him.

“Hah! We’ll see who’s on the winning side,” He rasps against your ears before turning you towards himself. Now your back is against the warm glass window. The heat does not irritate your skin since the sun is not very rowdy today but Rafayel is. Rafayel does not wait any further for any form of resistance but ends up smashing his lips against yours. It is the first time he has been like this, so needy, so rough, and above everything you like it. Is he on his heat cycle already? Both of your hands rest on his chest, trying to push him away at the possible realization because it would be dangerous for both of you but he just wouldn’t budge. So, instead of trying to resist, you just give in. 

“We’re not going to do this here, are we?”Rafayel does not answer your question with words but with his actions. He clusters all your dress up and tucking it over your boobs. You gulp as you help him to unbuckle his belt. As soon as his pants hit the floor, you can see the evidence of his yearning for you. 

Rafayel takes you into his lap by hoisting you up in his arms. The moment he pushes the head of his cock inside you, a gush of warmth washes all over your body. It is a beach resort solely owned by him where you have accompanied him but there must be at least a few staff, right? What if they see you like this? The chances are bleak but never zero. Those worrisome thoughts were pushed aside you feel the base of his cock hitting your skin with a strong deep thrust making you arch and moan.  You tip your head forward to say, “But Rafayel. . .you said. . . it's just the tip.” 

“And you said I —ahh— I can’t be stopped at just the tip.” He states as he starts to rut into you. “I'm just proving you right. Doesn't it feel good to be on the winning side?” it does . . . it does . . . your arms encapsulate around his shoulders as he starts to bob you up and down his fat shaft as you bury your face into his shoulders. He is stronger than his usual self. As he quickens his pace you start to whimper and you can feel him leaking and growing inside you, reaching your sweet spot as he keeps rutting into you in full yet strong thrusts.

By now, he has fucked you in different positions and different places of the resort keeping in mind not to finish inside you. He can not just help it: chasing the thought of cumming inside you especially when he fucked you raw for the first time. But he can wait. No. he will wait for you till you are begging for him.

And, when the sun sinks into the sea making the sky blush at its fullest, you and him are deep in slumber, in front of the fireplace, under the sheets, naked underneath, and holding each other.

◈ SYLUS.

It’s painful. He has been teasing you for a while now and your posture does not make it easier for you. Your muscles feel clammy. The way Sylus keeps rubbing the tip of his cock-head against your soft, tender flesh of your femininity gradually wears off your patience, thinning your limit and testing your sanity. It was you. It was all you. You admit that but you did not think he would be able to keep up when you kept being so needy, so ready for him. By now, you have come to know his melting points and you know when to abuse them and when not to. When you said you needed him, despite being in your months-time, at first he hesitated because you are not someone who can easily beg or ask for things but when you kept being handsy, and distracting him he said he would— with just the tip— a mere quickie but you never knew it would turn out to be this tormenting.

“Wait Sylus. You gasp as he rests both of his palms over your respective knees. This position.”

“Yeah, too deep?” Sylus verbalized with a veil of mischief over his face as he spread your legs apart as a result pushing the tip of his cock-head inside you. But before now, he would jock down to kiss you,  suckle at your nipples, and play with your hair but his cock would still be rubbing against the outer folds of your pussy, and truth be told, it was good, it was okay you felt satisfied but the moment you felt his cock inside you, even just the tip, it made you want all of him. “Let me know if I hurt you, okay?”. He isn’t; if anything he is diluting your self-control by pushing himself in you in small doses.

Sylus smiles as he cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb over it. He sees it the way you keep swallowing, gasping for breath, biting your lip, touching yourself — you do that when you want something yet can not ask for it. As you half-lay on the bed, with elbows resting on the mattress creating dips under the influence of your pressure Sylus leans towards you his hands still intact on your knees, spreading them further as a result of which he sinks more into you; you gasp followed by a moan feeling almost half of him inside you. With a crease amongst your eyes, eyes closed, chest heaving up and down while the night robe is barely covering your breasts you look divine under the dim light of the room.

You can feel how aroused you are. It would merely take a few thrusts to make you cum. He can feel that too yet dares to ask, “Do you want me to move?” Since he asked so nicely you decide to play into his little game. Wrapping one of your arms around his nape, you pull him into a strong, yearnful kiss. He can tell. He can certainly tell how much you want him now. As you slowly feel his hands under your waist locking in, your legs start to curl around his hips The lights go dead when you pull away from the kiss to take a breather and he pushes all of him into you adjusting you in his lap. A gasp of a high note blesses Sylus’s ears followed by a trail of short quick huffs as if he ran fingers along the piano keys. Even with the lights out, when you glimpse his eyes on yours a hot wave of embarrassment washes over you. 

The lights are alive again when you bury your face in his chest. 

“Kitten, you doing good?” He asks that with the whole of him inside you despite knowing how such soul staring gaze while having sex makes you nervous. He walks into a different room in that position carrying you where two mirrors are placed opposite to each other. 

You barely peep seeing him through the mirror at first and then look into his eyes, commanding, “Fuck me as you hate me Sylus.”

A throaty chuckle escapes from his chest as he says, “Y’know I can’t do that.” As he puts you on the bathroom sink. “However, I shall not disappoint my queen.” placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

◈ XAVIER.

Xavier claims that he is not much fond of the idea of punishments in general but he has never denied yours. In fact, he has enjoyed them thoroughly till the end. He has never been the one to ask things right away and always ends up taking detours after detours observing your expressions so minutely, so intently since it sends an ample amount of electric thrill in his heart for a few seconds — the way you look away when he makes advances on you, the way you quickly lick your bottom lip before dismissing his approaches or the quickening of your breaths, the flustered look— even if it is just for a mere few seconds — it’s all worth it in the end when you just give in, doing all those innuendos, craving your walking path only to him and him alone. 

But, this time you decided to try tackling him from a different angle. You did not resist like you usually do when he slowly started to cave into you. In fact, you agreed with him right away. Both of your stress would just sublime especially if you two took a quickie break together. Ah! The look on his face— was priceless: with one of his eyebrows pitched higher than the other as a small crescent appears along his lips: he is so confused. Even if Xavier can not quite navigate your thoughts he is not backing out and you know he won’t.

As you sit on the nightstand crossing your legs, one upon the other with your heels still intact you summon him with your arm raised, all the fingers lightly curled into a fist except your index finger that moved to and fro for him, while Xavier stands at an arm's length from you. He walked towards you but stood, waiting for your next move. You loosen his tie and pull it away from his collar with a swish. He leans into you but stops midway as he feels your pointed nails digging into his chest. 

“Turn around,” you utter with a grave tone. It is so odd to see you like this that Xavier can not help but be pulled into this intimidating daze of yours. After you tie his hands at the back he turns around and then the fun begins. Xavier loses his mind for a good minute when he sees you taking his cock out of his trousers, jocking down with lips forming an unfamiliar pout, only to spit on it, stroking his length all over, coating your saliva on his cock. He groans loudly enough for you to look at him. Is he okay? With his head tipped backward you fail to gauge his expressions so you spit on your hand to use it as a lube for his cock.

Xavier tips his head forward as he feels his cock being surrounded by something, but only a part of it. There is a gap in between your cross-legged sitting posture: the gap between the end of your knee and the apex of your calf muscle with your other knee underneath. 

“You don’t mean — Xavier stammers— that I—

“Yes. I mean exactly what you’re thinking.” You exclaim with a firm tone by keeping your fingertips underneath your hand, elbow rested over your knee as you wait for his move. As he starts to move he can understand how much he has to work for himself to cum and you are just staring at him. It drives him insane, really. With his hand tied at the back, he can only do so much so you decide to help him— out of pity of course. After you unbutton his shirt one by one, you hold his hard nipple with your sharp nails and pinch it; Xavier has to fight the urge to hold himself back from latching his lips on your warm skin.

As your hands move upwards, caressing his cheeks, thumb abusing his lips. He glances before he takes your thumb into his mouth while his hips are in constant motion. “Go ahead. Get yourself off.” Yeah! He doesn’t need to be reminded of that. You watch his face contort, your thumb pressed in between his teeth making you wince as he peaks his orgasm. He pulls out his cock and the exhaustion is heavy on his muscles. 

Inserting a finger into the gap between his belt and trousers, you pull him towards yourself, whispering, “Good boy ”over his lips before kissing him. He moans while kissing and surrenders as you untie the knot of his hands which immediately clamp around your shoulder heads. Well, aren't you an angel for showing kindness to him?

“More. . . more . . . I want more. . .” Xavier mumbles taking a quick breather before diving back to one more kiss and this time he is rougher than usual. 

◈ ZAYNE.

Zayne has been teasing you for . . . ah ! You do know how long has it been since he pushed you over the pool table. His cock is still inside his pants, intact but awake. Although the only view you have is the ceiling and sometimes his face when he rubs the clit folds by running his thumb roughly over them while the rest of the finger rests against your inner thigh. He has unbuttoned your dress shirt enough to have a view of a slice of your supple skin. Every time he presses your bud, followed by a rough rub towards the apex of your cunt he sees your navel sink. It turns him on, too much for him to ignore the attention that his cock has been begging. Your palms lay flat on the green of the pool table yet every time he jocks down to have a taste of your arousal your nails dig into the corase of the table. 

As Zayne stands up again, you whimper before saying, “Stop teasing, me. just put it in already. ” The tip of his nose glistens. Does he know that? He licks his lips before responding, “But I haven’t even. . . he trails off because part of him does not wanna scare you by bringing the thought into light that how he has not taken out his cock yet. He has been touching your folds, lapping over your arousal once in a while. You can not see but only hear the lewdity now while Zayne can see that you are so wet that the moss green of the pool table has become dark green. You don’t need to know that, not now.

“Have a little trust in yourself, I know you can take it.” Zayne supplies in a tart manner but actually, he is reminding himself not to cross the thin boundaries too much otherwise he won’t be able to keep his urges at bay. He is under the influence of the same pain as you yet you are so whiny about it which only makes it harder for him to refuse you in this vulnerable needy state. He was just teasing you, flirting ever so slightly to get you comfortable and now he is in deep trenches of pleasuring you. 

But, there is pain underneath. Your body tells him that you want more but he is not sure about himself how long he can keep at it.

Fuck. He can’t. Not anymore. In a series of rough and messy movements, he has his cock out of his pants, aligning to your entrance. One glance and the moment he is inside you he can feel your cunt clench around his cock while your legs wrap around his hips. He can hear the click of your heels as he leans over you, his face in the nook of your neck, not moving but still adjusting to the feeling of your gummy walls wrapped around him but you are so impatient. He feels your wet suck of the lip over his collarbones which denotes his desire for you. As he starts to buck his hips against you, you suddenly think how the design of the ceiling is not boring anymore.

[bpmiranda]

Honey III |l. howlett| nsfw

A/N: dbf!logan, recluse!logan, sunshine!reader, age gap, tiny bit of angst, mainly smut🤭, mild daddy kink, fingering, oral f!receiving, unprotected sex

Honey Honey II

“I can’t grow old with you.”

Those words felt like a dagger in her belly and she recalled deciding to leave. Not because she was upset that he was a mutant, but because she felt it was a cruel joke from the universe to finally meet a man whom she wants to share a life only for it to not be possible. The only thing she could think to do was finish this last semester of her first college year and she figured they would talk again when she returned.

They had to talk about this, right?

However, Logan wasn’t on the mountain when she came home for the summer. Her dad had told her that he went on a trip to that States not long after she left for school and her heart fell into the pits of her stomach. That night she cried silently into her pillow, the ache of having lost him just like that too much to bear. It felt like a part of her had been taken with him. Perhaps she shouldn’t have pressed him to share her feelings, perhaps she should’ve given him more time to decide on his own if she was really what he wanted. The moments they shared sure had convinced her that they were on the same page.

The days all blended together after that night. Nothing interested her anymore, but she had to put a smile on because she didn’t want her father to grow concerned. But he knew something was wrong.

“You miss him?” He asked her one day when they were opening up the store. Her eyes widened as she looked up from the box of candy she had been slowly organizing and he chuckled. “Haven’t quite been yourself since you found out he left.”

Her face felt warm and she shook her head. “I-Logan and I-we-” She struggled to find a way to convince him she was not in love with a man twice her age, but her dad put a hand up.

“Logan’s a good man.” That was all he said and she smiled, nodding in agreement. “I figured something was going on when he asked me to let you know where he was going.”

Now is as good a time as any, she thought. “Did he say anything else? Maybe about me?” She asked sheepishly and her dad gave her a slow head shake.

“Just that he wanted you to know he won’t be gone for long.” He said and that alone gave her enough hope to hold onto for the time being.

Late one night, while she laid wide awake in bed almost a month after learning of his departure, she heard a soft thumping outside her window and she sat up quickly. Her eyes were wide as she watched a large silhouette appearing in her window and she realized who it was almost immediately as she hurried to open the window and let him in. Logan landed in her room with a heavy thud and she shushed him with a smile. “Hey, honey,” He greeted her with a grin. His hand reached out for hers and she shyly took it, leading him to sit on the end of her bed with her. “I hope I didn’t have you too worried.”

“Just about.” She teased, her hand reaching up to caress his cheek softly, the familiarity of his face bringing her so much peace. It didn’t matter that he had left, not now that he was back with her, but she still asked, “Why’d you leave?” Her big, sad eyes gave away her the pain he had caused her and Logan shook his head, disappointed in himself for not having told her more, but he couldn’t risk her not being safe when he returned.

“Not because of you.” He said, bringing his lips to hers for a soft kiss. “I promise it wasn’t because of you.” Her face warmed up and she nodded, believing him. “An old friend needed my help.” Her eyebrow raised curiously and Logan knew what she was thinking. “His name is Charles.” Her smile returned and she looked away from him as she whispered a soft ‘oh’ and he laughed softly at her. Gently, he held her face in both his hands and he looked seriously into her eyes. “I do love you.” Logan said, regretting not having said it the last time they were together. “Honey, I love you. I’m-well-I’m just scared of something happening to you.” He said, not bearing the thought.

Her heart was full as he told her he loved her. Relief washed over her and she lightly kissed him as she moved to straddle him. “Is there any reason I should be worried about my safety right now?” She asked, trying not to make a lewd sound as she felt his shaft underneath her. Logan shook his head, his hands resting on her hips as he kissed her back. “Then let’s just enjoy tonight, and we’ll worry about tomorrow when we get there.”

Logan nodded, knowing he wasn’t going to change her mind, knowing she wasn’t scared of him, or of being with him. “What about growing old together?” He asked as she kissed his neck softly, his head hung back as he let out a soft groan while lying on her bed with her on top of him. His large hands rubbed her bare thighs slowly as he tried to hold back long enough to make sure they could have a proper conversation about their future before he made up for the pain he caused her with his absence.

“I’ll grow old,” She whispered, smoothing her hands down his toned torso and sucking a light hickey on his neck, watching the little bruise disappear moments after. “And you’ll take care of me, like I do for you now.” She resolved, lifting herself up a little, slowly dragging herself along the jean clad length of his cock until she felt his head throb at her core which was covered only by the thin material of her pajama shorts.

Logan groaned, digging his fingers into her hips as he guided her along himself. Her head rested against his and she hummed in pleasure. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” He whispered, holding her close as she slowly rolled her hips against him. “I love you.”

“I love you, Logan.” She breathed out as her lips met his and he then sat up, lifting her up so he could lay her down on the bed. Her hands ran down his exposed arms and he removed his tank top so she could smooth her delicate fingers over his toned abdomen. Her bottom lip tucked between her teeth as he watched her with a little smirk. “Will you fuck me, daddy?” She asked quietly, those gorgeous eyes looking up at him pleadingly and he nodded as he dipped his head down and kissed her neck.

“‘Course I will, honey.” He whispered.

Their clothes came off and Logan had her spread her thighs for him so he could lap gently at her cunt. Her body was trembling as she tried to remain as quiet as possible. His hands gripped her ass and thighs firmly, massaging her lower half as he drooled into her. “That feel good, baby?” He asked as he began pumping two fingers into her tight pussy, his tongue still toying with her sensitive clit while she mewled with her eyes shut tightly, nodding desperately.

“‘S always good, daddy,” Her voice was shaky and he smirked to himself. “You always make me feel good.” She moaned, her back arched against her bed as she felt herself reach that point of no turning back, losing control as he made her cum. “Fuck!” She whined and he quickly covered her mouth, his fingers still knuckle deep inside her as he watched her eyes well with tears while he extended her orgasm.

“That’s my girl.” He praised as she kept her trembling legs open for him. “Missed seeing you like this.”

Her eyes were blurry from the tears of overstimulation as he pulled his thick fingers out and sucked them clean before slowly rubbing his head through her folds. The feeling sent a jolt through her body and she braced herself onto his broad shoulders as he pushed his tip into her. “Oh, yes!” She whispered, her mouth latched onto his in a passionate kiss and he groaned as he sunk into her in one good thrust.

“You want this?” He asks and she nods, her brows upturned as he’s fucking so deeply into her, relentless in his pace. Logan caresses her hair with one hand while hiking her thigh up over his hip, allowing himself to rut deeper into her and she cries out, muffling herself with her hand while holding onto his waist with the other. “You want me?” He groans, feeling her walls clench tightly around his girth and she nods again.

“I want you, daddy. I only want you.” Her voice trembles and he notices tears rolling down her face. Logan smiles as he kisses her, wiping her cheek softly while he’s fucking her roughly.

“I’m yours.” He promises, grunting as she suddenly claws at his chest while she writhes beneath him. Logan can’t take his eyes off as she reaches her orgasm, her eyes half-lidded from the pleasure, and her teeth biting down hard on her lip as she’s struggling to keep quiet. “Can’t quit staring at you, you’re so pretty, honey.” Logan sighs as he fucks her through her release, wanting to give her everything. “You gonna take it?” He asks and she nods weakly, so pliable in his hold now. Logan buries his face in the crook of her neck as he ruts into her harshly, chasing his own high within her tainted walls. Her hands rub his broad back as she pants heavily, her mind fuzzy from the feeling of him gliding along her walls, the smell of his natural musk mixed with his signature cigars, the faint taste of herself on his lips as they kiss while he pumps her full of his cum.

They fall silent as they catch their breathes, kissing each other softly wherever they can reach as they refuse to pull away just yet. Logan doesn’t recall ever feeling quite this attached to someone before, and though he still holds concerns for her safety, he realizes that not something that he will ever stop worrying about. “I want you for as long as I can have you.” Her voice brought him out of his thoughts and he nodded in agreement as he brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. “We can deal with the rest as it comes.”

“If that’s what you want,” Logan murmured, kissing her forehead softly. “That’s what I’ll give you, honey.”

🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯🍯

I hope you kind readers enjoy this little happy ending for Honey and Logan:)

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened

[littlexdeaths]

eddie munson x shy fem reader

warnings: reader is a bit insecure, little sprinkle of jealous eddie, reader wears glasses, smooching, also the finest cheese in all the land (i hope) <3

part one | part two

word count: 2.5k

a/n: this ended up bit longer than i intended so oops. but big thanks to @strangerstilinski for brainstorming some ideas with me to further cheesify the kissing scene. and another HUGE thank you to @undead-supernova for helping me with fix some things and for looking this over. I LOVE YOU BOTH <3

“What do you mean you didn’t kiss him?!”

You quickly turn to give Nancy a pointed glare before digging deeper into your locker to retrieve your biology textbook.

But really, it is a valid question.

“I— just,” you blow out an exasperated breath. “I panicked, alright? Trust me, I’m just as disappointed as you are.”

While your date didn’t end on a bad note by any means, it definitely ended on a lame one.

When Eddie dropped you off at home after the two of you spent way too much time cozying up in a corner booth at Benny’s— you weren’t entirely ready to say goodnight to him yet.

But when he walked you to your front door and carefully started to lean in, those pesky nerves got the best of you. Instead, you pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek before he had the chance to reach your lips.

Feelings of disappointment clawed at your insides once your lips brushed against the stubble on his cheek instead of his lips, your tinted chapstick leaving a tinge of pink in its wake. 

Eddie cleared his throat, carefully rubbing the back of his neck while he bid you goodnight. 

You’d barely shut the door behind you when your smile faltered and all those feelings of self doubt you’d managed to push aside all night came creeping back in. 

Everything was going so well, why couldn’t you just kiss him? It wasn’t as if you’d never kissed someone before. 

Your first kiss happened your sophomore year, with band geek Ray Howard in King Steve’s coat closet during a stupid game of 7 minutes in heaven that neither of you enjoyed. 

If you were brave enough to do that, why couldn’t you kiss the guy you actually liked? 

“Well, when are you gonna see him again?” Nancy prompts. You shrug once you slam your locker shut.

“I don’t know… I’m afraid he’s not gonna want another date. I mean, I gave him a peck on the cheek! How lame is that.”

You hug your textbooks to your chest as you head to class with Nancy, who is desperately trying to convince you that Eddie would be insane if he didn’t want to see you again.

You just hoped she was right.

When you don’t see him at lunch, you instantly deflate a little. The doom and gloom that lingers outside the school now mirrors your mood, taking any semblance of your appetite with it. You hadn’t seen him all day, so that only seemed to confirm your worries.

He’s avoiding you. What else could it be?

It’s not like him to skip out on lunch, so instead of heading further into the cafeteria you turn heel to head toward the library— 

And almost collide directly into Eddie.

His leather clad arms instantly wrap around you, a teasing smirk playing on his full lips. Lips you so desperately want to feel pressed against your own.

“Sweetheart, we really gotta stop meeting like this,” he teases, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “One of these days you’ll take both of us out.”

You let out a nervous giggle and an apology, relief filling your chest as his smile grows wider in response. Damn Nancy for always being right.

“Where are you headed in such a rush anyway?” he asks, finally letting you go, much to your dismay.

“Uh… the library. Wasn’t feeling super hungry.”

He nods, leaning his shoulder against the door frame. He looks even prettier than when you saw him on Friday. His curls are a little more unruly, his stubble more pronounced. 

And when you catch the faintest hint of cigarette smoke lingering on his jacket and how it mixes with his spicy cologne— it has your heart stuttering in your chest.

“Well, anyway, I was wondering…”

A small grunt leaves his lips as his body is forced forward, directly into yours. The jock that just shoulder checked him mutters a “watch it, freaks” under his breath before continuing past you into the cafeteria.

The shove has closed the remaining distance between you, your faces merely inches apart now. Your palms resting against his chest, feeling how his breath slightly quickens beneath your fingertips. You could so easily kiss him like this, all you have to do is tilt your head up…

But you choke, eyes darting back down nervously toward your feet when you take a small step back.

“Are you alright?” you ask, meeting his eyes once more.

Eddie doesn’t even seem phased by what just occurred, his warm eyes entirely still focused on you.

“Oh, that’s nothing, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “I can handle myself.”

Eddie motions to his torso, lifting the lapels of his jacket as if to prove his point.

“See? Not even a scratch.”

And it takes all your self control to keep your eyes from wandering lower, past the soft cotton of his shirt, over the handcuff buckle of his belt…

Focus.

“Now, what I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted,” his voice raises in volume, eyes throwing a pointed glare towards the jocks table before they settle back on you. “Would you like to have lunch with me?”

Eddie nods towards the Hellfire table, your eyes drifting across the cafeteria. The familiar group of males are already seated at their usual spots, engaged in a heated debate over something.

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

Eddie can sense your hesitation, shaking his head as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I promise they don’t bite.” He grins, beginning to lead you toward the lunch table. “Can’t say the same for me though.”

He whispers that last part, his lips playfully grazing over the shell of your ear. Eddie can feel how you shiver in response, thoroughly satisfied with himself as you try to compose yourself once you reach his friends.

The guys barely spare either of you a passing glance, still deep in their conversation when Eddie pulls up a chair for you. Right at the head of the table next to his own.

You take a seat with a polite smile, each of the members of Hellfire now noticing your presence. And they can’t hide their utter shock and surprise as Eddie takes his seat beside you. He introduces you properly, going along the table until he reaches the two youngest members of Hellfire.

“While we haven’t been able to coax Sinclair back from the dark side,” he sighs, resting his arm on the back of your chair. “You obviously know Wheeler and Henderson already…”

“Oh, Mike knows her alright,” Dustin interjects, mischievously glancing over at his best friend. “He used to have the biggest crush—”

Mike elbows Dustin in the side before he can even finish his sentence, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red as he hangs his head.

“Would you shut it?” he hisses, already noting the way Eddie’s gaze hardens as he tugs your chair impossibly closer to his own.

“No… Henderson, please continue.”

A brow quirks up from underneath his bangs, and suddenly the whole table has gone silent, all eyes on their fearless leader.

Dustin nervously swallows, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “It was… really stupid kid stuff, not important! Just forget I even brought it up. It was just a dumb— ”

The younger male’s voice raises an octave when he laughs, his nerves shining through.

“— right, just a dumb little crush,” Mike finishes, but Eddie doesn’t seem entirely convinced.

When you suddenly rest your hand on his knee under the table, his composure begins to slip. His eyes soften when he looks down at you. The whole table is practically holding their breath, in anticipation for Eddie’s next move.

But you beat him to it.

“Someone had to be the president of my fan club, right?” you giggle.

Mike just groans in response, head falling to the table while the other guys begin to chatter amongst themselves again, that underlying tension now beginning to melt. Much like you are under the weight of his gaze.

“Well, I’d gladly take over that position, if you’d have me.”

Your breath hitches at the underlying meaning behind his words, and, god, you’ve never wanted to kiss him more than you do right now.

When Eddie slowly begins to lean in, Dustin practically gags, the chiming of the lunch bell stopping everything in its tracks.

“Saved by the bell,” he mutters under his breath.

The brunette unwillingly rises to his feet and reaches out a hand for you to take, keeping you closely tucked into his side while he walks you to your next class.

Your mind was racing the rest of the afternoon, impatiently watching the hand on the clock tick by ever so slowly— desperately waiting for the final bell to ring.

After Eddie had walked you to history, he planted a playful kiss to the back of your hand. Giving you a dramatic bow before heading in the opposite direction toward Ms. O’Donnell’s classroom. 

You were a fumbling mess once when you took your seat next to Nancy, and you could tell by the look on her face that she wanted to know everything.

So you spilled the beans during your walk to English afterwards, a plan beginning to form in your head with each step closer to Ms. O’Donnell’s.

Three failed kissing attempts was all your poor heart could take, so you spent the entirety of the last period plotting how you’d be able to get Eddie alone.

Which was how you found yourself pacing back and forth on the football field, eyes scanning the trees for any possible signs of movement. The palms of your hands are sweaty despite the crisp air, the fabric of your sneakers dampening with each step you take through the wet grass.

And you’re wondering if maybe this was a stupid idea, that maybe you heard Jeff wrong.

You knew Eddie dealt weed, the whole school did. But having never dabbled with the leafy substance yourself, you weren’t exactly sure where he made his deals at. So it was a stroke of luck when you overheard Jeff mention it in passing to Grant during English.

Something about how he was going to be late for rehearsal because some jock wanted to buy a bunch of reefer behind the football field. And who was Eddie to refuse a good sale? Especially when the douche was offering him a lot of money.

You’re abruptly broken out of your thoughts when you finally see his lanky figure emerging from the tree line and your heart kicks into first gear— about ready to burst out of your chest with each step he takes towards you.

His curls are a little damp from the mist hanging in the air, that signature dimple indenting his cheek when a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

And despite your nerves, it’s a welcomed sight.

“Well, I didn’t take you for a stoner, sweetheart,” he begins.

But you don’t give him the chance to give you a proper greeting before you’re springing into action. Your fingers curl into the collar of his denim vest, meeting him halfway as you lean up to press your lips to his…

Only to end up knocking your heads together instead.

A small grunt of pain leaves him and your stomach twists in embarrassment, fingers gently pressing against your forehead as you wince.

“Oh my god, I am so—”

Those words barely have a chance to slip past your lips before he tilts your chin up and carefully molds his mouth over yours. His movements are slow but steady, as if gauging your response.

Your body reacts before your mind can fully process what’s happening, instinctively reeling him in closer and pressing your lips more firmly against his own. He hums softly, the sound setting your whole body alight.

As Eddie slips one of his hands around your waist, the other reaches up to tenderly cup your cheek. And when he begins to guide you backwards, you let him. Only stopping once your back is flush against the goal post. But even then, he doesn’t stop kissing you.

You can feel the cool metal seeping through the thin layer of your jacket, causing goosebumps to rise on the surface of your skin. But even with the cool air continuing to nip at your exposed skin, you feel like you’re on fire.

His lips are like molten honey, sugary sweet and practically melting you to your core. And you swear this is the closest to heaven you’ve ever felt.

When he eventually pulls away and you take a shuddering breath in, your eyes remain closed. You’re practically on cloud nine, basking in the lingering tingles that prickle over your lips. His hand remains on your cheek, thumb brushing over where his lips just were.

Eddie suddenly lets out a deep chuckle, the sound vibrating against your chest while his breath washes over the apples of your cheeks. Only then do your eyes flutter open and you realize the reason behind his amusement.

Your vision is completely obscured, the round lenses of your glasses fogged over from the heat of his breath. You can just barely make out his smile through the frames, but the silliness of the moment has you letting out a giggle of your own.

“May I?” he asks, the tips of his fingers grazing over where the arms of your glasses meet your temples.

You nod immediately, allowing him to remove them with the utmost care. He untucks his Judas Priest t-shirt from his jeans, using the soft cotton to clear the fog away from your lenses. Even with your blurred vision, you manage to catch a glimpse of his tummy before it’s hidden away beneath his shirt again.

When his eyes flick up to meet yours, he can’t help but feel like he’s really seeing you for the first time. Not hidden away behind a book or the thick wire frames of your glasses. Just you, in all your unbridled beauty.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he carefully places your glasses back onto the bridge of your nose.

Eddie just grins, leaning his forearm on the goal post above your head. He smells faintly like weed and peppermint gum, and you really want him to kiss you again.

“How’s about I give you a ride home, hm?”

You can’t hide your smile, nodding your head enthusiastically.

“I’d really like that.”

Eddie leans down to press one more searing kiss to your lips before he slips his hand in yours and pulls you along. The two of you now walking hand in hand across the football field.

“So, sounds like I’ve got some competition with Wheeler, huh?” he teases, squeezing your hand a little tighter in his.

“Oh come on, you’ve never had a crush on a babysitter before?”

Eddie takes a step in front of you, beginning to walk backwards while simultaneously guiding you forward.

“Well… considering my only babysitter was starting to bald and my uncle,” he practically shudders, “I’m gonna say no, sweetheart.”

series taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 @blckbrrybasket @your-nightmaredoll @missmarch-99 @fandom-princess-forevermore @mylovelycrazyworld @princesssunderworld

[pathologicalreid]

for the fear of falling apart | epilogue

good things come to those who wait, and you're finally getting your happy ending

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | epilogue

series masterlist

who? spencer reid x jareau!reader category: fluff (there's a first time for everything) content warnings: spoilers for criminal minds evolution but nothing super detailed, dad!spencer, babies, breastfeeding, takes place during s16, cancer, spencer's "special assignment" is just him being a dad word count: 1.74k a/n: the spencer reid dilf agenda is at the center of the universe. i cant believe ffofa is over. this is just a short and sweet look into what r and spencer are doing during cme - aka being parents. (the gif has nothing to do with the chapter he just looks so sexy)

“Where is she?” Spencer asked, minding the hour as he hung his token leather satchel in the entryway. He peeked around the living room before making his way to where you were in the kitchen, closing up your book of crosswords before he saw the clues and gave you all of the answers – a habit of his that you had been begging him to break.

Affixing your pen to the cover of the puzzle book, you hummed in response to his question, “It’s nine p.m., she’s asleep, in her crib.” You turned to face him, “And you may not go up there and get her,” you caught at his hand as you noticed him moving toward the stairs, “You will not wake that baby up, Spencer Reid.”

He accepted his defeat, coming back and gently wrapping his arms around you, “Did she go down okay?”

“No,” you answered bluntly, reciprocating his hug by reaching your arms up and slinging them over his shoulders. “She never does when you’re not home,” you added, providing a fact that he was already well aware of.

Spencer chuckled softly into the crook of your neck, “I thought I would’ve been able to get away earlier.”

You were unbothered, leaning into his touch, “Bedtime is at 7:30, you never would’ve made it in time.” His faculty event at school started at seven. It had been scheduled to run until midnight, but Spencer always made the effort to be home with you at the end of every day. The two of you hadn’t missed a tea date since before your daughter was born.

“But now it’s too late for us to do anything of substance,” he said, separating himself from you to switch on the electric kettle, looking over his shoulder at you, silently asking if you wanted tea.

Nodding at him, you watched as he pulled two mugs from the cabinet and dropped tea bags in each of them, “We can watch that documentary you were talking about last night.”

“You’ll fall asleep,” he countered. It was a symptom of motherhood that you hadn’t seen coming, falling asleep while watching anything.

You shrugged, “She’ll wake up to eat, I’ll wake up to feed her.” While your otherwise perfect daughter had mastered sleeping through the night within her first few months earthside, teething had ruined any semblance of a sleep schedule she had, so, she started crying to eat in the middle of the night.

Your husband didn’t seem convinced, but he grabbed the kettle off of its base and poured the hot water into your mugs, sliding a bureau-branded one toward you and keeping the octopus mug for himself. “Last time you fell asleep on the couch and I tried to get you to bed you threw things at me,” he reminded you, stirring honey into his tea before handing the sweetener to you.

“I threw a pillow at you,” you disputed, drizzling the honey into your mug before asking him to put the dish back up in the cabinet.

He rolled his eyes, leaning over the counter and smiling at you, a sweet, dopey, Harlequin romance smile. “I probably deserved it,” he acquiesced, bringing his mug to his lips and taking a sip of the lavender tea.

Spinning your mug on the counter in front of you, you raised your eyebrows and considered changing the subject, but you were lacking any kind of segue material, “So, JJ called me today,” you said.

Spencer set his octopus mug on the counter and frowned, “Are they still having problems?” He asked, resting his chin in his hands and keeping his attention on you.

Nodding, you shared a knowing look with him. Havoc had been wreaked on the BAU since Penelope left. You were lucky enough to be on maternity leave while administrators tore your unit apart and Spencer was on a special assignment – playing the long game on a case that the bureau felt needed to be closed. “I still can’t believe they dragged Penelope back, she was so content with SOAR,” you griped, knowing how much the techie’s life had improved since leaving the FBI.

“I can,” Spencer admitted, “There’s no BAU without Penelope Garcia. There were four people in that tech room trying to do the work she did,” he said, picking his mug back up before making his way around the kitchen island and sitting in the bar stool next to yours.

You leaned back in your stool, with Matt out on an assignment of his own, the BAU’s numbers had gone down drastically. “In better news, Dave went home,” you told Spencer, pointing your sock-covered foot out to nudge him gently.

His expression softened, “Good, the hotel was getting…”

“Yeah,” you agreed, sipping at your tea. Krystall had been the picture of health until she wasn’t, and losing her had nearly sent Rossi to a place you feared he’d never come back from. “Anyway, JJ asked if we were still alright with hosting Christmas this year,” you recalled from the phone call, “I said yes.”

Spencer nodded in agreement, “Have they heard anything from the oncologist?”

You frowned helplessly, “Not yet, depending on the results they might have to do more tests. I offered to take the boys next weekend if they need the time, J’s afraid mom will blab to Henry.”

“You miss it,” Spencer observed, eyes flitting over to the baby monitor on the counter.  

Rolling your eyes, “You do a job for nine years, you’re going to miss it when you take time off. Don’t act like you don’t,” you chided gently, smiling into your mug. When the bureau took everything you had been through into account, they willingly offered you an extended maternity leave, which you took without a second thought. However, you hadn’t anticipated feeling so disconnected from the team.

Spencer pursed his lips, “I do, but I like being home with you and Mila more.”

Leaning forward, you reached out and took his hand in yours, “Baby, if you want to go back to the BAU full-time, you know I’d never, ever get in the way of that.”

He shook his head dismissively, “No, not yet at least, but someday.”

The BAU was home, you knew that well enough, but now he had a home with you and Amelia. That wasn’t something he’d give up easily. You watched Spencer at he looked at the baby monitor again, “Stop praying on my downfall, she’ll wake up soon.”

Taking your empty mug in his hands, he set both yours and his in the kitchen sink, “I love you,” he told you.

Your face warmed at the expression, one of those times where there just wasn’t anything else he wanted to say – he just needed to tell you that he loved you. “I love you too,” you said, happily basking in what you assumed was your lingering new parent glow – the two of you were stronger than ever.

Quietly, Spencer loaded the rinsed mugs into the dishwasher before closing it, coming back around the counter and stopping in his tracks when a phone started to ring.

Dropping your head to the counter, you waited for the inevitable wailing to come from the nursery, when the cries started, you looked up at Spencer, “You get her, I’ll get the phone,” you negotiated.

Fishing the ringing phone – Spencer’s – off of the coffee table, you frowned at the caller ID before bringing the screen to your ear. “I need to talk to your wife,” a frantic voice said on the other end.

“Hi, Penny,” you greeted, eyes drifting to the top of the stairs where Spencer was emerging with a squawking baby in his arms.

Penelope gasped on the other end of the call, “I so very desperately need your advice. Do you remember me telling you about Tyler?” She sounded almost out of breath.

You hummed in response, “The guy from the serial killer website?” You wondered where she was going with this – technically the team wasn’t supposed to share case information with you, but that had never stopped any of them.

“Yes, that one,” she confirmed, “I kissed him.”

Surprised, you dropped down onto the couch, looking up at Spencer as you searched for an appropriate response to Penelope’s confession, “Emily is going to kill you.”

The other end of the call was silent except for Penelope trying to articulate a retort. Spencer frowned at you, swaying gently with Amelia in his arms, “What happened?”

Moving the mouthpiece away, you looked up at him, “She kissed a material witness,” you told him, watching as he clamped his lips together in a failed attempt to hide his amusement.

“This is serious,” she scolds over the phone. “I need a debrief. Coffee tomorrow?”

You nodded as the baby grew increasingly impatient in Spencer’s arms – his chest was just no good to her. “Hold on,” You said over the phone, waving for Spencer to hand the baby off to you so you could feed her.

He settled her in your arms, helping you as best he could before he was in the way, “You’ve got her?”

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your hairline when you told him you were fine, bringing the phone back up once Mila latched, “Hey, so tomorrow, nine?” You offered, peering down as the baby nursed for comfort. “I can meet you at the kiosk in front of Quantico if that’s easier.”

Penelope sighed dramatically, “As long as you bring your pretty face and your pretty baby, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lobbing the phone across the couch cushions, you leaned back slightly, adjusting the baby when she was done so that she could hopefully drift back to sleep. Your husband came back downstairs, having swapped his work clothes and contacts for pajamas and glasses, he deftly sat down next to you and took the baby.

Carefully, he settled her on his chest, letting her tiny limbs curl in neatly as she let out sweet coos, brown eyes fluttering shut as Spencer gently swiped his thumb across her back. That little girl had him wrapped around his finger from the moment he knew about her existence.

You shifted to rest your head on his shoulder, watching Mila drift off into her dreams, “Are you going to fall asleep like this?” Spencer asked you, keeping his voice at a whisper.

Humming, you shut your eyes briefly, “Yeah, this is my favorite show.”

taglist: @football1921 @thedancingnerdmermaid @dollarstore-lydia-deetz @cillsnostalgia @alivesarcastically

@hellsingalucard18 @poetoflawed @lillysfrogsandbogs @mega-kittyglitter-1 @sndixz

@k-corbett @nott-my-riddle @guiltyyassin @starkeyellow @rainydayathogwarts

@roblino @awildfirestarting @getawaycarsficrecs @syd-maximoff @melodyflowersblog

@stargirlls-world @ovando13 @cxtherine

[chiscaralight]

nsfw kinich x fem reader. i love him, i miss him, choking, repaying favors iykyk

i’m so sorry but you know the part at the end of the last scions of the copy tribal quest where kinich says:

'promise me, if you need anything in the future you’ll come to me.’

so on a particularly tough night where your fingers aren’t doing enough, and humping your folded pillows insnt helping, you find yourself stumbling towards his home in the dead of the night. he swings the door open when he realizes it’s you, questioning why you’re here at such a weird hour.

“you said if i need anything i could come to you..”

“yeah, i did. what do you need?”

kinich is very precise with his work. it's something he's well known for, but you weren't too familiar with. but now, with his fingers expertly plunging in and out of your cunt as you struggle to keep your legs up, you understand what everyone means now. his face is inches from yours, breath fanning over your face as he studies your pleasured expression. your back is arching off the smooth wood of the door that he had you pressed against mere moments ago after you smashed your lips against his in the doorway.

his tongue is hot against your neck. you're desperately gripping at the wrist that's assaulting your sopping hole, weakly attempting to push it away from the sheer pleasure that's blooming throughout your lower half. you're whining, cries of his name dripping out of your lips as your thighs start to clamp down around your hand. and he's trying to ignore the throbbing in his pants because you came to him for help this time. you'd done a great deal for him, and it would be unfair to take something from you again so soon. but those eyes of yours, they're pleading, begging for him to just fill you up, as much as that perfect body of yours could take.

and he was right to trust his instincts because your cunt is sucking him in so well. his fingers are tight against your throat, pressing down as his free hand moves to wrap around your waist. he has perfect leverage like this, pulling your back against his chest as he fucks into you sharp and hard. your hands are gripping at nothing, the feeling of his cock combined with the lack of oxygen reaching your brain sending you into a sweet spiral. you can't even feel the words leave your mouth, soft whines and pleas surging into his ears as you mindlessly beg.

"i-inside, kinich. please, please-"

it's the least he could do, after everything you've done for him. he's also trying to convince himself that he's doing this for you, not because he's been thinking about pumping you full of his cum. sure, he'd finish his commissions early so he could drag mualani to come and hang out with the two of you, or purposefully rile up ajaw so he'd have a reason to put him in time out, giving him enough privacy to pump his length to the thought of you. but no, this was entirely about what he was willing to give back to you. so he'd free up your neck, letting your body softly drop to the bed, before securing your hips with both of his hands before ruining you. you're fisting the sheets, squealing hard as the sound of his skin slapping against yours fills the room, his thrusts are messy and uncalculated, warmth painting your walls as his orgasm waves through the two of you. he's still smacking into you with such fervor, that you can't hold back your own climax, releasing around his still-hard length with a yell.

and he's obsessed with the white ring that's starting to form around the base of his cock from your orgasm. your pretty hole is still fluttering around him as he continues to move. he stills for just a second, then mutters an apology. he knows he's supposed to be assisting you here, but he just can’t help himself. he's going to have to take one more orgasm from you tonight, but he’ll make sure to give you one right back.

[muwapsturniolo]

⋆.˚ 𝐈'𝐦 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ⋆.˚

IN WHICH...a wallflower finds solace in her life thanks to a boy who gives her the will to live

WARNINGS...mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts! depressive thoughts, alcohol, weed, IF I FORGOT ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW

BTW, the series playlist is linked in the title!

THIS SERIES IS NOT IN ANY WAY, SHAPE , OR FORM TRYING TO ROMANTICIZE DEPRESSION OR SUICIDE! THIS IS SIMPLY A FIC THAT IS SUPPOSED TO SHOW THE STRUGGLES OF MENTAL HEALTH AND HOW SOMETIMES WE JUST NEED TO FEEL LIKE WE BELONG TO FEEL BETTER! IF YOU SUFFER WITH ANY TYPE OF MENTAL HEALTH STRUGGLE, PLEASE REACH OUT FOR HELP! AT THE END OF EACH CHAPTER I WILL PROVIDE A PHONE NUMBER FOR THE SUICIDE HOTLINE!

Matilda.

A movie about a young girl who was ignored at times by her family, or simply just treated horribly for existing.

She related to that.

From a young age she was ignored by her parents, the adults constantly forgetting they even had a child to tend and take care of.

They would leave her home alone without even mumbling a goodbye, they wouldn't even leave a note. The birthdays she wished to celebrate every year were forgotten, the holidays she would see being celebrated on TV in grand and dramatic ways were never like that for her.

She thought it would be different at school.

She'd seen the TV shows of kids having big groups of friends, having nice and welcoming teachers, and having fun.

She was wrong.

In elementary school she was bullied, the kids making fun of her hair and clothes. They made fun of the fact she was soft-spoken and always reading the 'Magic Tree House' books. Her teachers never did anything about it, and she didn't want them to.

She would take bullying over being ignored any day.

Then, middle school happened.

The bullying had stopped, but not because the kids felt bad, they grew tired of her. They treated her like she was a nuisance making their lives unbearable. To make it worse, her teachers felt the same way. She would raise her hand to answer a question, and the teacher would roll their eyes while her classmates would mock her and call her a 'suck up' or 'annoying". Her peers would bump into her in the hallways and yell in her face to move.

A vivid memory of hers was when she bumped into Lacey Sanders in the lunchroom, spilling her lunch all over her brand-new white top. Lacey lost it, she pushed the girl to the floor, screaming in her face that she was a waste of space and should have never been born.

It was embarrassing.

So embarrassing that she raced out of the lunchroom and straight to the bathroom where she had her first panic attack.

She began to believe the callous words and actions around her.

Maybe she was annoying, maybe she was a suck-up, maybe she shouldn't have been born...

It seemed as the school year went on and people began to forget the lunchroom incident, they began to forget about her too.

High school soon came along, and that's when she realized how invisible she truly was.

No one would give her dirty looks anymore, they would bump into her in the hallways and continue to walk as if she were an inanimate object. Her teachers would either mark her absent or not even call her name during attendance.

It's like she didn't exist.

She blended into the crowd, but she wasn't a part of the crowd,

She was an empty shell, a ghost begging, screaming, pleading to be noticed,

Just like she's doing now.

It was a cold December night in Boston, a few days before Christmas. The streetlights illuminate the icy roads, showcasing the flurries of snow flying around. The streets were basically empty, the majority wanting to escape the cold, but not her.

She loved the cold.

She loved the way the crisp air pierced her skin, numbing her fingers and toes. She loved how when she breathed out, she could see the carbon dioxide, showing that she was in fact there and alive much to her dismay and others.

Her hands grip the cold railing tightly, her palms burning from the frost coating the metal. The murky water below was currently sloshing against the rocks violently, the noise so loud yet calming at the same time.

She couldn't help but wonder if her end would be the same,

Violent and loud, yet calming.

She takes a shakey breath and looks away from the water, looking behind her and watching as a few people walk by...Ignoring her.

They were dressed in their winter attire, laughing and talking about the holidays to come and how excited they were to spend time with family. They weren't worried about the 17-year-old girl on the bridge.

Why would they worry?

As much as she wanted someone to notice her, to stop her from ending it all and tell her it's ok, she knew they wouldn't

They don't care.

"They don't care," she murmurs to herself.

Her eyes began to burn, she wasn't sure if it was the cold air or the tears forming in her eyes, but she didn't care...Not anymore. She closes her eyes and faces forward once more, the noise around her beginning to soften as the rushing water grows louder in her ears. Her grip on the railing began to loosen, a faint smile gracing her face.

This is it.

She's finally going to be at peace.

Just as she begins to let go, a hand firmly grabs her shoulder and yanks her backward, her back hitting the railings harshly. Her eyes snap open and she whips her head around, coming face to face with a boy who looks out of breath. 

His eyes are wide and filled with genuine fear, but he has a smile on his face.

“Come to a party with me!”

She blinks in confusion, not sure if she heard him correctly. "w-what?"

" Come to a party with me. It's not a huge party really. It's just me, my brothers, and a few friends in Nate's basement. We're going to watch Christmas movies, play games, drink, smoke..."

Despite the tension in the air and his body, the boy keeps a smile on his face, begging internally for the girl to agree.

"You don't even know me..."

"Well I want to..."

He wants to know her.

Someone wants to know her.

Her grip on the railing tightens once more as she begins to feel conflicted. She wanted to end it, she was tired of hurting in silence, yet here he was, a stranger, inviting her to a party.

Was this the universe finally answering her wishes, or was she already dead and in her own version of heaven?

"Come on, it will be fun...We have pizza."

He was warm and inviting, the cheesy smile on his face and the crinkle by his eyes proving that much. It was a nice change compared to the coldness she felt in her life.

She hesitantly nods to his invitation, the action accruing before she even realizes she's doing it. He quickly drops his bags to the ground and yanks her over the railing, holding her close as he mutters a 'Thank God' to himself once he realizes she's now safe.

Once she's steady, she pulls away from him and looks away awkwardly, her nails digging into her palms.

He wants to confront her, tell her what she planned on doing was stupid and she would regret it, but he didn't.

He couldn't.

She didn't need a lecture right now, she needed a friend.

Noticing she's just in a flannel and sweatpants, he quickly takes off his jacket and throws it over her shoulders, "S'freezin kid, should have worn a jacket in this weather...Come on, let's head to Nates. It's not that far." He grabs her hand without a care in the world, grabbing his dropped bags in the other, and leading the way.

The walk to Nates is quiet for the most part, the only sound coming from the plastic bags and their feet crunching against the snow. She was lost deep in thought, her mind buzzing with the events within the past few minutes.

She's pulled out of her thoughts by the boy speaking, "I think I've seen you around school, I say I think 'cause I'm rarely there...What's y'name kid?"

He noticed her around school? She actually stood out for someone to notice her?

"Y/n..." She answers softly. He hums in response and gives her a big smile, "Well, I'm Chris. S'nice to meet you Y/n."

They soon make it to Nate's house and Chris waltzes right in, stomping his feet on the matt to get rid of the snow before kicking the boots off. "Come on, everyone's in the basement." He motions to the basement door, already walking towards it.

Y/n hesitantly follows, this was all new to her.

She's never been invited to parties or asked to hang out.

As Chris opens the basement door, she hears the sound of laughter and shouting.

"You cheated!"

"How the hell do you cheat in Candyland you dumb fuc-I'm back!" Chris's announcement of his arrival causes the group of four to look at the two teens standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"And you brought a stranger?" A boy who looks just like Chris asks, looking Y/n up and down.

She feels her face grow warm as the boy calls her a stranger, he wasn't lying though, she was a stranger. Chris rolls his eyes and drops the bag on the table before slapping the boy upside the head. "Shut the hell up Nick, Y/n's not a stranger... She's a friend."

She feels her heart skip a beat at his words.

Friends...She was a friend.

Chris plops down on the couch, immediately man-spreading and crossing his arms. Meanwhile, Y/n stands by the stairs awkwardly still wrapped in Chris's jacket. Chris notices and pats the spot next to him, urging her to sit down.

She shuffles over, her movements unsure as she sits down next to him.

She expected the group to jump back into what they were doing, to completely disregard her existence - that wasn't the case. They immediately begin to talk to her, asking all types of questions to get to know her better. It was different, it was scary, it was overwhelming, but she found herself relaxing in the warm atmosphere of the basement.

Despite Nick's hesitancy towards her earlier, everyone was so welcoming. They treated her like they had known her for years, like they grew up with her. It was comforting, for once in her life she felt like she belonged, like she was actually alive.

It was refreshing.

"S-so do you guys always hang down here?" She asks as she looks around the basement. It looked like the basement of an early 2-thousands teen movie. Posters of different bands and TV shows were thrown on the wall, the colorful Christmas lights were strung along the ceilings creating a serene atmosphere. There was a huge tv mounted on the wall - gaming systems on the stand below. Two couches, a recliner, and bean bags of different colors were scattered about.

"Yeah, my mom doesn't want us messing up her nice couches and she says we are too loud, so she and my dad let us use the basement as our hangout spot," Nate states as he sets the bong down on the table, Alahna immediately taking it. "A-and they let you guys smoke-" her eyes dart over to the alcohol in Nick's hand, "And drink?"

"Better here rather than out somewhere getting hurt....Are your parents really strict or something?"

The question makes her wonder, were her parents strict? They were never around or paid any attention to her for them to be. She could have been causing all types of trouble and doing god knows what without any type of repercussion, yet she never did

She gives a brief smile, "N-not really... I've just never done any of that stuff...." The group looks at her in shock. How could someone in their grade never dabble in any of these activities? "Well, that is going to change! Take your pick, what drink do you want?"

"Or do you want to smoke?"

The group begins to debate on what the girl should do first, two of them leaning towards drinking while the other two claim an edible would be better. Meanwhile, Chris is doing neither. His eyes land on the girl who looks frightened by the idea of ingesting any type of paraphernalia.

"Hey-" his hand finds its place on her knee, giving comfort. "You know you don't have to do anything if you don't want to right? Don't let them pressure you."

Conflicted feelings swarm in her mind. On one hand she's not completely keen on the idea of being intoxicated, worried about what she will say and or do while not being in the right state of mind. What if they find her weird, or they make her the butt end of a joke? However on the other hand, she wants to fit in, she wants them to like her, and she wants to belong.

"I-is there anything not...Strong?" She asks timidly. Chris nods and grabs an unopened can of Twisted Tea. "It's tea with vodka. Taste kind of funky but I like it." She examines the big can, a look of nervousness still on her face. " We could share if you want? I doubt you will drink the whole thing." He was mainly offering out of concern, he knew the drink wasn't strong, but he didn't want the girl throwing up everywhere because she couldn't handle alcohol.

“T-that sounds nice….” Chris nods and cracks open the can, handing it to her for the first sip. She takes it once again, smelling the liquid before taking a hesitant sip. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. She shivers as she swallows, smacking her lips as the taste settles in her mouth. Chris laughs as she hands the can back to him, taking his own swig of the spiked tea.

“Alcohol virginity has been semi-taken! We’ll save the weed for a birthday or something,” Alahna cheers, the whole group joining in.

The night is a whirlwind of endless activities ranging from Just Dance, board games, Heads up, the girl learning how to play Fortnite, and karaoke.

Y/n was having fun. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t sad, she was happy. Even if it was a temporary happiness, she spent her whole life worrying, it wouldn't hurt her to live and enjoy her life for one night.

The night soon ends and everyone is getting ready to leave, “We can drive you home. S’pretty late and I uhh... I don't want you walking alone..." It was obvious Chris was worried, scared she would find her way to the bridge once more and disappear. He knew he couldn't do much to make whatever she was going through better, but he sure as hell was going to try.

"It's fine, I can wa-'' As she tries to turn down the offer of a ride, not wanting to be a burden, Chris turns to Matt - "You good with driving her home? She doesn't live far."

Matt's eyes drift over to the girl who is smiling awkwardly, shrugging his shoulder and grabbing his keys, "Yeah, let's go. "

After saying their goodbyes to Nate, Alahna, and Nate's family, the four pile into the black van. Y/n climbs into the car, sitting next to Nick in the backseat as Chris and Matt remain upfront. Matt suddenly hands her his phone, Google Maps opened- a clear sign to enter her address. She does so, handing him back the phone quietly. “ You live next door to us?” Matt questions as he puts the car in reverse, the tires crunching against the snow.

"I-I do?" She questions. She had never noticed the three boys - it's obvious they hadn't noticed her either. The car ride to their respective homes is pretty quiet, a song from Chris's playlist playing softly as the two boys upfront hold a whispered conversation. Nick was busy sleeping, all the alcohol finally catching up to him. Y/n looks out the window, her eyes focused on the blurry imagery passing her by.

It wasn't long before Matt pulled into their driveway - everyone piling out of the car and ready to go to bed. "You guys head inside, I'm going to walk her to her house." Chris moves toward Y/n, his hand resting on her back. Matt eyes the gesture and says nothing, grabbing a half-asleep Nick and walking him inside.

"Y-you didn't have to walk me back...."

"I want to...Come on."

The two begin the small walk toward the white house - silence being the conversation between the two.

"Well...This is you," Chris states as they arrive in front of the brown door. he shoves his hands into his pockets, his feet kicking at the snow on the ground. "Y-yeah..." Her hand rests on the doorknob, her eyes looking over Chris as she tries to figure out what to say next.

"Did you have- Thanks for," Soft laughter falls from both of them as they talk over each other, Chris running a hand through his hair as Y/n wraps her arms around herself. "You go ahead, what were you going to say?"

"I-I was going to say thanks...I-I needed this tonight." Chris smiles softly at her, the two coming to a mutual understanding of what she really means.

"S'no problem...Hopefully I- We get to see you more." The thought of this friend group - a group that has been friends forever, wanting to hang out with her again, fills her with excitement. She tries to hold back her giddiness, a Cheshire smile wanting to make its way onto her face. Chris notices it but decides not to say anything, not wanting to embarrass the girl.

"Well, I should head back. I'll see you soon alright?" She nods and watches as Chris walks back to his own home, their eyes meeting briefly before he goes inside. She smiles to herself and rushes inside, nothing but pure joy in her system.

It's not long before she's showered and laid in bed, her eyes trained on the ceiling covered in stars. She was thinking about her night, how it started off so shitty, and ended up being the best night of her life. She was seen, she was laughed with and not at, she felt like she belonged.

She turns on her side, pulling the blankets closer, a smile on her face.

Maybe things are getting better, her wishes being granted.

She could only hope it stays that way.

As she falls asleep, she fails to notice a body climbing out of a window next door, situating itself onto the roof. The person lights a cigarette between their lips, letting the mix of cancer and cold air enter their lungs. They take a big swig from the vodka bottle in their hand, the alcohol burning their throat. They stare off into the empty street, their eyes void of all emotion as they wonder-

What went wrong?

I hope you all like this. i did my best to articulate the words and feelings i have experienced into this. i want all of you to know you are loved, you're seen, and you're not alone! if any of you are struggling mentally i want you to know you're so strong and I'm proud of you for making it this far.

i believe this is a nationwide site that you can use to call and or text when it comes to mental health. if it is wrong, please let me know!

[dipperscavern]

The brain worms have brain wormed once more, my friend. Tonight, they writhe for Cregan Stark. As do I but that's not the point.

I am a firm believer Cregan has a corruption kink. Something about his sweet, blushing bride, and her timidness when it comes time to consummate the wedding just makes him want to howl at the moon. Doesn't matter if you're always shy and submissive after that or if it was just for your first time, he looooves to see you blush and whimper and plead for him to be gentler, that you can't take it, that it's too much.

Maybe after some time together, you throw in some roleplay. The blushing bride and the big bad wolf. Sounds like a shitty porno honestly. You're so sweet and soft and shy, and he just wants to ruin you and make you cry.

God, the things I would do to this man and let him do to me.

-chonky anon.

P.S. I think Robb might also be into corruption but moreso pretending to be the one getting corrupted. Idk, I can feel it in my ovaries. Something about virgin!Robb just speaks to me. And my coochie.

CORRERERRRRRREEUPTION KINK 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️

when it comes to cregan & kinks like this, he’s so ashamed that he feels that way. but no where near ashamed enough. he’s so close to feeling guilty about it, but he can’t help himself in the satisfaction he feels knowing he’s ruining you. knowing he’s making you feel so good you’ll never be able to go back to the way you were.

and the trust you put in him drives him crazy. sorry, it drives him up the walls and around the corner. it’s part of that more domestic-vibe he loves, and you (accidentally) feed into it by submitting yourself to him during those few times you were getting a grip on ‘the act’ (or, if you’re the submissive type, then indefinitely. but even if you’re not, he still has the corruption kink) (don’t make me elborate) (or do, this is a democracy). showing that trust when he’s sliding in for the first time (or the second, he takes a while to get used to), mumbling something about how it’s too much. how you can’t take it, and he just presses a kiss to anywhere he can reach n reassures “You can.” (because you can. you aren’t pulling away, you’re just unsure. cregan knows what you need)

AND ROBB BEING ON THE RECEIVING END OF IT.

you being the one to take robb’s virginity, and now you both are certified fuck buddies. you’re so good and so gorgeous it’s all he can think about. spotting you around the castle, in the most innocent of settings, even, and his mind is plagued by thoughts most unbecoming of a prince. and he loves it.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine helping Crocodile discover a new way to use his devil fruit, part 2

I've decided that I'm going to do a fic for this, instead of an imagine. I don't know about this one, but I'm posting it anyway.

Also, this an afab reader fic, sorry.

It was late when you left Buggy's party to head home. So late, in fact, that the city had turned off most of the streetlamps. With only every third lamp lit on the main streets, one of Crocodile's brilliant budget cuts left you blindly scurrying between lamps to stay where you could see, cursing as you went. When you finally reached your street you encountered an expanse of broken streetlights leaving you with little choice, but to fumble blindly down the road, with only starlight to guide you. You paused, to give your eyes a moment to adjust and to put on your shoes, before heading off into the darkness.

Only a few steps in, you heard what sounded like sand moving. Without thinking, you called out, "hello?" Your jaw snapped shut when you realized you had just given away your position.

A deep chuckle broke the tense air, it was familiar, "It's quite late for little deers to be out, all by themselves." Suddenly, a bright ember lit up in your periphery, giving you a glance at the man in the dark. A dark cigar with a predatory grin at the other end of the ember, there was no mistaking it.

Crocodile murmured, "I've been looking for you all night."

"Why me?" You asked, taking a step back, even though you knew there was no escaping from him if he really wanted you

"I want to know what else that fucked up little head of yours can come up with." He purred. You flinch as his hand engulfed your neck. The feeling of his sand skittering along your skin made you instinctively go up on your tippy-toes to get away. Sensing your discomfort, his thumb gently caresses your cheek to soothe you. "Easy there, I'm not going to hurt you, yet." Crocodile takes a slow drag off his cigar, the ember glittering in his eyes. He was clearly enjoying the power trip he was getting off on your fear.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and started to ramble off anything you could use sand for. "Water filtration."

"Water is a no-go."

"You could use the technique I previously suggested to make glass. It would be useful for barriers against biochemical attacks, or for stopping up hinges. "

Crocodile hummed, "That would be useful, I'll have to try that later... But ultimately not the thing I'm looking for. "

"What sort of things are you implying?"

"Telling you would deprive me of the pleasure of watching you squirm, so keep trying." He said, tightening his hand around your neck, just enough to make your head spin.

You gasped, "Sand has silica in it, which is bad to breathe in. Uh... I can be used for skin!"

His grip loosened, as he echoed, "for skin?"

"It's used as an exfoliant." You stammered, trying to remain balanced.

"I recall having skinned my knee falling on the beach before I ate my devil fruit." He grumbled.

"You're supposed to add it to lotion or oil. "

"I can use lotion and oil," he chuckled, "I finally have the inspiration I needed. Thank you, little deer, why don't we go try it out." Crocodile released your neck, slid his arm around your shoulders, and guided you down the street.

"What are you doing." You asked, "Where are you taking me?"

The large man pulled you into his side, bemused by your size difference, as he asked, "did I misinterpret the way you look at me when you think I can see you?"

Your eyes flicked up to his, suddenly feeling very embarrassed because you've always taken every opportunity to ogle him in that slutty lil waistcoat of his.

He gave you a feline grin and mused, "I have not misinterpreted anything, have it. I know a hungry look when I see one. So where I'm taking you is to feast at my residence."

Sir Crocodile wasted no time bringing you to his estate, you crossed the threshold, and his grip on you slid from your shoulder to your waist. His hand groped the fat of your hip through the thin material of your shirt, as he led you to his room.

As soon as his bedroom door shut behind him, he removed his coat and gently pushed you face down on the large, plush sheets of his bed. He ordered you not to move a muscle, and you waited patiently, happily taking in the heavy scent of his sheets. You remained there for two minutes, listening to him remove his coat and shoes, he moved to another room for a minute, before coming back and setting several bottles and a large box on the nightstand.

"Up, sit up." He asserted, sliding onto the bed behind you. When you sat up on your knees, one of his large hands pulled you back into his lap. With another hoist and a gasp from you, he had you perched upon the rather prominent bulge in his pants. He had evidently removed his belt and vest well, he sat there in only a crisp button-up shirt and starched slacks.

"Now, why don't we get started with the foreplay?" He chuckled, swapping out his hook for some sort of mobility attachment that allowed him to unbutton his shirt. You leaned against his chest, and looked up at him. The black haired man grinned at the submissive look on your face, and used his now free hand to remove his hook. You watched as his nub and his hand turned into lumps of sand.

"I think the lotion would work quite nicely, don't you?" Crocodile rumbled, depositing several pumps of lotion onto the sand and rubbing them together until it was mixed evenly. The anticipation had caused an ache to grow between your legs. An ache that only grew larger when he shoved his hands under your shirt. You gasped when his fingers pushed up your breasts. The sand was cool at first, but it warmed up the rotation picked up speed.

You reached back and locked hands around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the strands of hair there, as you arched into his touch. Crocodile let you bask in his touch for only a brief moment, before nudging your head in his direction and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His scent, taste, and touch filled your senses. He smelled like whiskey, smoke, honey, and a natural musk, which left you dizzy. A high-pitched sigh left you, reveling in the moment, completely missing that the noise that had left you a moment ago had made the man under you feel absolutely feral. He let you distract yourself by grinding down on him, and nipping at his lips and tongue, while he gathered more sand. He opened the lotion bottle and mixed its contents with his sand before forming several new arms.

Three large hands pried apart your legs, as two hands of swirling sand massaged the meat of your thighs and calves. Two hands gripped your hips, rocking your clothes slit over his bulge, as two more hands groped at your chest. You cried out, only for Crocodile to use a column of sand to pull you back into a kiss. While his hand, of flesh and bone, made its way between your legs.

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[novaursa]

The Last Fire

- Summary: You survived the fall in the desert, and now it's up to you again to decide where your story leads or ends.

- Paring: sister!reader/Aegon I Targaryen

- Note: This part contains two new possible endings that were requested. Pick your poison. These events happen after The Last Flight, and these two short stories are part of The Broken Crown series. For all parts in one place, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @fiction-fanfic-reader @fireandblood-mharmie @poisonedsultana

Ending where Y/N survives the fall, but still dies.

The last thing you remember is the unbearable pain, the world spinning out of control as you and Tesaerix plummeted toward the unforgiving sands below. Her agonized roar still echoes in your mind, a terrible sound of agony and desperation. The impact had been a blur of fire, darkness, and then nothing at all.

When you wake, it is to the sensation of a dull, throbbing pain that pulses through every inch of your body. The air is thick with the scent of herbs and smoke, and your mouth is dry, lips cracked. Your eyes flutter open, struggling to adjust to the dim, unfamiliar light. Stone walls loom around you, cold and unwelcoming. A Dornish castle. Your heart sinks.

Your first instinct is to move, to fight, to escape, but your body betrays you. Sharp pain lances through your side as you shift, and a low, involuntary groan escapes your lips. Everything hurts. Every breath is a struggle, every thought fogged with the weight of what has happened. You reach for your belly, your hand trembling as it finds the emptiness where there should be life. The child is gone. A sob rips through your throat, raw and jagged. The loss is a hollow ache, a void that you cannot fill, no matter how hard you try to pull the shattered pieces of yourself together.

A guard standing at the door turns at the sound, his expression a mix of surprise and something darker—satisfaction, perhaps. His armor gleams in the dim light, the crest of House Martell emblazoned on his chest. He watches you struggle with an impassive gaze, offering no words of comfort or aid.

“How long?” you manage to rasp, your voice barely more than a whisper, rough from disuse.

“Eight days,” the guard replies, his voice flat. “You’ve been unconscious for eight days.”

Eight days. The weight of it settles over you like a shroud. Aegon must think you are dead. The thought of him mourning you, believing you lost, brings a fresh wave of pain. You try to imagine what he must be feeling—the grief, the rage. It’s almost too much to bear.

You attempt to sit up, but your body refuses to cooperate. Every movement sends sharp stabs of agony radiating through your limbs. The guard takes a step forward, a warning in his eyes.

“Stay down,” he commands, his tone brooking no argument. “You’re under orders not to leave this chamber.”

“Orders?” you ask, your voice trembling with a mixture of fear and anger. “From whom?”

“Princess Meria Martell,” he replies. “You are to be held here until he decides your fate.”

Your fate. The words chill you to the core. You are a prisoner, a trophy to the Dornish princess, held captive in the land that has stolen so much from you. Your dragon, your child. The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the hopelessness is overwhelming. You close your eyes, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill.

But you cannot afford to break. Not now. You have to survive. You have to find a way out, a way to let Aegon know that you are alive, that you are still fighting.

The days pass in a haze of pain and frustration. You are too weak to move, too broken to plan an escape. The guards change shifts, faceless men who bring you food and water, who watch you with the wary eyes of those who know they are in the presence of something dangerous, something they do not fully understand.

One evening, as the sun sets below the horizon, you hear it—a low, distant rumble. Your heart skips a beat. It is a sound you know well, a sound that has haunted your dreams since the day you fell. Dragonfire.

You push yourself up, the pain almost unbearable, but you force yourself to ignore it. You stumble to the small, barred window, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The sky is a dark canvas painted with flames, the unmistakable black silhouette of Balerion the Black Dread soaring above, his jaws spewing torrents of fire that rain down upon the castle below.

“Aegon,” you whisper, your voice breaking. He has come. He has come to avenge you, to burn this place to the ground in his wrath. But he does not know—you are still here. Panic surges through you, cold and sharp. You pound on the door, shouting with what little strength you have left.

“Help! Someone, please!” But no one comes. No one hears. The guards have fled, the castle descending into chaos as Balerion’s fury turns stone to ash and sand to glass.

The flames grow closer, the heat becoming unbearable. The walls of your chamber begin to crack, smoke seeping in through the seams. You cough, your lungs burning as you struggle to breathe, to think.

You have to escape. You have to find a way out. But there is no time. The fire is everywhere now, the heat scorching, the air thick with the acrid scent of burning flesh and wood. You stagger back, your legs giving out beneath you as the ceiling above begins to splinter, molten rock falling like rain.

In your mind, you see Aegon’s face—his eyes dark with grief, his jaw set in that way that you know means he is barely holding himself together. You want to reach out to him, to tell him that you are still here, still alive. But the words stick in your throat, lost in the choking smoke and searing pain.

The door to your chamber bursts open, flames licking at the edges, and you know this is the end. There is no escape, no hope. You close your eyes, a single tear slipping down your cheek as you surrender to the inevitable.

“I’m sorry, Aegon,” you whisper, the words barely audible over the roar of the fire. “I’m so sorry.”

The flames engulf you then, and the world fades to black.

The great hall of Aegonfort was cloaked in an uneasy silence. Servants moved quietly, casting nervous glances at the somber figure of the King. Aegon Targaryen sat on his throne, a shadow of the man he had been. His face was pale, eyes haunted, the lines of grief etched deeply into his features. Each breath felt like a burden, each moment a struggle to maintain the stoic facade he had been forced to wear since that day.

He had returned from Dorne victorious, or so it seemed to others. But victory felt like ash in his mouth. The fury that had driven him to lay waste to Sunspear had given way to a hollow emptiness. The cries of the dying, the smell of burning flesh—all of it haunted him, because none of it could bring you back.

It was then that a servant approached, holding out a small, sealed scroll with trembling hands. “A message from Princess Meria of Dorne, Your Grace.”

Aegon took the letter, his fingers almost numb as he broke the seal. His eyes scanned the parchment, and as he read, his blood turned to ice. The words blurred, but their meaning was unmistakable. You had been alive. Captured, held prisoner. And he had—without knowing—burned you alive in his wrath.

He staggered back, the letter slipping from his grasp and fluttering to the ground like a dying leaf. The world spun around him, his knees buckling as the weight of the revelation crashed over him. His vision dimmed, and he would have collapsed, had Visenya not been there, her strong arms wrapping around him, steadying him.

“Aegon!” Her voice was sharp, full of concern, cutting through the fog that clouded his mind. Rhaenys was there too, her face stricken, rushing to his side.

“Aegon, what’s happened?” Rhaenys asked, her voice trembling. She reached for him, her hands gentle but insistent, trying to draw his gaze to hers. “Please, tell us.”

He could barely speak. The words lodged in his throat, a jagged knot of guilt and horror. His body trembled uncontrollably, a tremor that started in his hands and spread through him like a plague. His eyes, wide and filled with unspeakable anguish, locked onto the faces of his sisters, searching for something he could not name.

“I—I killed her,” he choked out, his voice breaking on the last word. “I burned her alive.”

The silence that followed was absolute, the kind of silence that is born from disbelief, from horror too deep to comprehend. Visenya’s grip on him tightened, her face ashen, her eyes reflecting a grief that mirrored his own.

“No, Aegon,” Rhaenys whispered, shaking her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “That can’t be true. You wouldn’t—”

“She was there,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “In the castle. Alive. And I... I didn’t know.” His words faltered, breaking under the weight of his confession. “I thought she was gone, and I...” He buried his face in his hands, a raw, strangled sob tearing from his throat. “Gods, I killed her. I killed them both.”

Rhaenys’ hands flew to her mouth, a sob escaping her lips as she stumbled back, her legs giving way as she sank to the floor. Visenya’s face hardened, though her eyes shone with unshed tears. Her grip on him remained firm, as if trying to hold him together when everything else had shattered.

“Aegon,” she said, her voice breaking through the haze of his despair. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have known.”

But her words felt meaningless, empty. There was no solace to be found in them, no absolution for what he had done. He had let his rage blind him, had let his need for vengeance consume him, and now the price was beyond bearing. The child—your child—gone forever, as he believes it was taken by his own hand. And you... you, whom he had loved more fiercely than life itself, gone because he had failed you in the worst way imaginable.

His body shook with the force of his grief, tears he could no longer hold back streaming down his face. “I killed her, Visenya,” he whispered, his voice a broken thing. “I killed her and our child. I... I’ve destroyed everything.”

Rhaenys reached for him then, her arms wrapping around him, pulling him close as though she could somehow hold the pieces of him together. “Aegon, no,” she wept, her voice a soft, desperate plea. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.”

But the truth of it was a knife twisting in his gut. He had believed you dead, and in his fury, his pain, he had become the very thing he had sworn to destroy. He had let his grief turn him into a monster, and in doing so, he had taken everything that mattered.

Visenya knelt beside him, her hand resting on his shoulder, her touch a steadying force amidst the chaos. “We will get through this,” she murmured, though her voice shook. “Somehow, we will.”

But Aegon knew there was no coming back from this. No battle to fight, no enemy to conquer. The enemy was within him, a darkness he could never escape. The flames of Balerion’s wrath had claimed more than just stone and flesh—they had taken the very heart of him, leaving nothing but ashes and ruin.

And so he wept, there on the cold stone floor of Aegonfort, his sisters by his side, but no comfort to be found. The King of the Seven Kingdoms, broken by his own hand, mourning the woman he had loved—and lost—twice over.

Ending where Y/N survives the fall with her dragon near Sunspear.

The air was filled with the acrid scent of smoke and blood, the heat of battle suffocating even in the high sky. Tesaerix’s wings beat heavily, each movement strained, her breaths coming in labored, ragged bursts. You could feel her pain through the bond you shared, a deep, searing ache that tore through your side as if it were your own. She had been struck, the harpoon lodged deep in her flank, just beneath her wing. Her roar of agony still echoed in your ears, a sound that would haunt you forever.

“Hold on, girl,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you leaned forward, your hand pressing against the warm, slick scales near the wound. Blood, dark and thick, oozed from the gash, and your heart clenched with fear. “Just a little longer.”

Tesaerix let out a low, rumbling growl, her muscles tensing beneath you as she angled downward. The ground rushed up to meet you both, but her descent was controlled, her movements careful despite the pain wracking her body. You clung to her neck, every jolt sending fresh waves of agony through you both, but you held on, murmuring soft words of encouragement.

The landing was rough, her massive form crashing down onto the rocky terrain outside of Sunspear with a jarring thud. The impact jarred you from the saddle, sending you sprawling onto the ground. Pain flared through your side, and you gasped, your hands instinctively moving to your swollen belly. The baby. The fear that gripped your heart was cold and sharp. You forced yourself to take a breath, wincing as you struggled to your feet, pain lancing through your body.

“Tesaerix…” You turned to her, your heart breaking at the sight. She lay on her side, the harpoon still embedded in her scales, her eyes half-closed, her breaths shallow. You stumbled toward her, your hands trembling as you reached out to touch her snout, your fingers brushing over her warm, familiar scales.

“We made it,” you whispered, tears blurring your vision. “We’re safe now.”

But even as you said the words, you knew they were a lie. The sound of approaching footsteps and the clatter of weapons made your heart sink. You turned, your body tense, as a group of Dornish soldiers surrounded you, their spears raised, their faces hard and unyielding. Behind them, riding in a litter shaded by silks, was Princess Meria Martell, her gaze sharp and calculating as it swept over the scene.

“You are far from home, Targaryen,” she said, her voice carrying over the tense silence. “And in no position to bargain.”

You straightened, ignoring the pain that shot through your side, your hand still resting protectively over your belly. “I am Queen Y/N Targaryen, wife of King Aegon. I demand safe passage for myself and my dragon.”

Meria’s lips curled into a cold smile. “Demands, is it? You are in no position to demand anything, child. You and your dragon are prisoners of Dorne.”

You glanced at Tesaerix, her body still and trembling with pain, her deep red eyes flickering weakly. Chains were already being brought forward, heavy iron links that were meant to bind her, to keep her grounded and helpless. The thought of her, proud and fierce, being chained once more like a common beast made your blood boil.

“Please,” you said, your voice breaking despite yourself. “She’s wounded. Let her be treated, and I will come with you peacefully.”

Meria studied you for a long moment, her eyes narrowing. Then she gave a curt nod. “The dragon will be tended to, but she will remain under guard. And you will come with us, now.”

The soldiers stepped forward, and you forced yourself to stand tall, even as fear and pain threatened to overwhelm you. Tesaerix let out a low, pained growl, her eyes locked on you as the soldiers approached, her body tensing as if she would rise and fight, despite her injuries.

“No,” you whispered, your voice firm as you placed a hand on her snout. “Stay, Tesaerix. Stay.” She let out a soft rumble, her massive head lowering to the ground, her eyes closing as if to conserve her strength. You turned back to the soldiers, your heart aching, but you forced yourself to move forward.

They escorted you into Sunspear, through winding streets that echoed with the murmurs of the people, curious and wary as they watched the procession pass. You kept your head high, your gaze fixed forward, refusing to show any sign of weakness or fear.

They led you to a chamber in the castle, its stone walls cool and unyielding. The door closed behind you with a heavy thud, the sound of the lock sliding into place echoing through the room. You were alone now, a prisoner in an enemy’s stronghold.

The days blurred together, each one filled with a growing dread. Your thoughts were consumed with worry for Tesaerix, chained and wounded outside the city. You paced the confines of your chamber, your mind racing with thoughts of Aegon, of what he must be feeling, believing you lost. You could only hope he would find out the truth before it was too late.

On the fifth day, Meria visited you. She stood in the doorway, her expression inscrutable, her eyes lingering on your belly before meeting your gaze. “Your dragon will survive, though her wing may never fully heal,” she said, as if discussing the weather.

Relief washed over you, though it was quickly followed by a fresh wave of anger. “And what of me? What do you intend to do with me?”

Meria tilted her head, considering. “You are valuable, Targaryen. As long as you remain with child, your life is safe. But know this—I will use you to ensure Aegon’s compliance. The war has cost too much already.”

You clenched your fists, fighting to keep your voice steady. “And if I lose the child?”

“Then your fate will depend on my whim,” she said simply, her eyes hard. “Do not try to escape, Y/N. Your dragon may be chained, but even a wounded beast is dangerous. And if she dies trying to save you…” She let the implication hang in the air, the threat clear.

Rage and fear battled within you, but you forced yourself to remain calm. “I will not try to escape,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue. “But if you harm her, there will be no place in this world you can hide from my husband’s wrath.”

Meria’s smile was thin, humorless. “We shall see, my lady.”

As she left, you sank onto the hard bed, your body trembling with exhaustion and despair. The days that followed were a blur of pain and uncertainty, your thoughts constantly turning to Aegon, to Tesaerix, to the fragile life within you. You had to survive, for their sake. You had to find a way to endure.

Outside, you knew the chains that bound Tesaerix were a constant reminder of your captivity, her pain mirroring your own. But you were both still alive, still fighting, even if only by clinging to the hope that Aegon would come, that he would find you before it was too late.

And when he did, you swore to yourself, you would make them all pay for what they had done. For every wound, every chain, every day of fear and suffering. You would see Dorne burn for this. You would see them all kneel before the fury of the Targaryen fire.

Princess Meria Martell sat in her chambers, the heavy stone walls of Sunspear pressing in around her like the weight of a great, immovable burden. She drummed her fingers on the polished wood of her desk, her eyes scanning the letter she had penned days ago. She had offered the King a simple exchange: your life and freedom in return for Dorne’s autonomy. It was a calculated risk, a gamble meant to end the bloodshed that had ravaged her lands and threatened her people.

But the answer she received was not what she had expected.

The messenger had barely finished delivering the news when a sudden, deafening roar echoed across Sunspear, shaking the very foundations of the castle. Meria’s heart froze. She shot to her feet, her blood turning to ice as a servant burst into the room, his face ashen with terror.

“Dragons, Your Grace! They’re here!”

Panic seized her. She swept past the servant, her silks rustling as she hurried down the corridors, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. The stone walls seemed to close in around her, her mind racing with fear and confusion. Aegon wasn’t supposed to come, not yet. Not like this.

Reaching the balcony that overlooked the city, she pushed open the doors and stepped out into the blazing sunlight. The sight that greeted her was one she would never forget. Balerion the Black Dread hovered above the city, his massive wings blotting out the sun, casting a dark shadow over Sunspear. Below him, Vhagar and Meraxes circled, their screeching cries filling the air as if announcing the coming storm.

And there, on the edge of the city, near the main gates, was Tesaerix. Her golden scales glinted in the harsh light, her massive form still and tense, the iron chains that held her stretched taut. But Balerion was descending toward her, the great beast’s eyes glowing with a dark, dangerous intent. With a mighty roar, he landed beside her, his immense claws tearing through the chains as if they were no more than threads.

Tesaerix let out a guttural snarl, her wings unfolding cautiously as the last of her bindings fell away. The sight of the great dragon, wounded yet still fierce, stretching her wings and shaking off the restraints, sent a shiver down Meria’s spine. She knew then, with a clarity that burned like ice, that she had underestimated Aegon Targaryen. This was not a king who would bargain or yield. This was a man who would see the world burn before he let anything be taken from him.

Meria turned, heart pounding, as she saw the three figures approaching the castle. Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys dismounted just outside the gates, the air around them shimmering with the heat of their dragons’ breath. The ground trembled beneath their feet, the power of their presence undeniable, terrifying.

She forced herself to move, to descend the stairs and meet them at the entrance. Her guards flanked her, their faces pale, their hands gripping their spears as if holding on to the last shred of their courage. She stepped forward, lifting her chin, though her heart raced like a caged bird.

Aegon’s eyes met hers, and the fury she saw there was like a living, breathing thing, coiled tight and ready to strike. His face was a mask of barely contained rage, the lines of his jaw clenched so tightly she thought it might shatter.

“Princess Meria,” he said, his voice low and cold, as if he were spitting the words through gritted teeth. “You dare to hold my wife captive and then try to negotiate with me?”

Meria swallowed, trying to keep her voice steady. “I offered you peace, Your Grace. An end to this war. Dorne in exchange for—”

“For my queen? For my child?” he snarled, stepping forward, the raw power radiating from him like heat from a forge. “You think you can trade lives with me, like some merchant haggling over goods? I am no man to be bargained with.”

Visenya’s eyes were like chips of ice, her hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister, the sword gleaming wickedly in the sun. “You will release her, and our unborn nephew or niece, now,” she said, her voice a quiet, deadly promise. “Or Sunspear will burn until it is nothing but a memory.”

Rhaenys’ usually warm, vibrant presence was overshadowed by a seething anger. “Do not mistake our patience for weakness, Princess,” she said, her voice taut with restrained fury. “You have made a grievous error.”

Meria raised her hands, trying to project calm. “I do not wish for more bloodshed. I swear to you, Y/N is unharmed. She and the child are safe.”

“Safe?” Aegon’s voice was a roar, his eyes blazing. “Chained like a beast, held in your dungeons, with her dragon bound outside like a common animal—that is your idea of safety?”

Meria took a breath, forcing herself to hold his gaze. “I needed to ensure that Dorne would not be crushed under your might. I needed leverage.”

“And now you have none,” Visenya cut in, her tone sharp as a blade. “Release her. Or I swear by the gods, your city will burn until there is nothing left.”

Meria hesitated, her mind racing. She had known this moment was dangerous, but she had thought she would have time, that she could control the situation. Now, looking at the three Targaryens before her, their dragons looming like harbingers of death, she realized just how badly she had miscalculated.

She nodded, slowly, her voice quiet. “She will be brought to you. Unharmed.”

Aegon stepped forward, his face inches from hers, and she could feel the barely restrained fury radiating off him like a physical force. “If I find one scratch on her, one sign that she or my child has been harmed…” He let the threat hang, his eyes burning into hers with a promise of utter destruction. “I will reduce this city to ash and bone.”

Meria shuddered but nodded again, turning to give the order. As she did, she glanced back at the dragons, at Balerion, who stood protectively near Tesaerix, the massive beast’s eyes glowing with a deadly intelligence.

She knew then that there would be no mercy, no second chances. If she failed to deliver, if she tried to deceive them even slightly, Sunspear—and all of Dorne—would be lost to the wrath of the dragons.

And so she prayed, silently, that her people would not suffer for her misjudgment, and that you would be returned to your king unscathed. Because if not, there would be no place in this world that could hide her from Aegon’s vengeance.

[disciplined-cornfed]

🐃 Bucking Bronco 🐂

Jake slouched in his office chair, eyes glazed over from hours of staring at a computer screen. The city buzzed around him, but he felt numb to it. The relentless clamor, the towering buildings, the rush of people—it was draining. The city had once been exciting, but now it just felt like a cage.

He sighed, leaning back, wondering if this was it. His life had turned into a cycle: work, home, sleep, repeat. There had to be more. He longed for something simpler, something that felt real.

That evening, he found himself at a local dive bar, his usual escape. As he nursed his drink, a figure caught his eye—a man at the other end of the bar. Broad-shouldered, dressed in a worn flannel, cowboy boots tapping lightly against the floor, and a cowboy hat perched low on his head. He looked out of place in the city but completely at ease. The man’s presence radiated confidence, something Jake hadn’t felt in a long time.

Jake couldn’t help but stare. The man caught his gaze, raised an eyebrow, and motioned for Jake to come over.

“What’s eatin’ at ya?” the man asked in a low, easy drawl. His voice was calm, steady, like he had all the time in the world.

Jake chuckled nervously. “Life, I guess. Just feels like I’m stuck.”

The cowboy grinned, flashing a bit of understanding. “You look like you’re searching for something, son. I used to be in the same boat, till I figured out what I needed.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

The cowboy reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone, flipping through something until he found what he was looking for. “Here,” he said, sliding the phone across the table. “Watch this video. Changed my life, and it might just do the same for you.”

Jake hesitated, then grabbed the phone. It was a subliminal—the screen flashed with phrases like “strength,” “discipline,” “confidence,” and “cowboy.” He smirked. Subliminals? He didn’t buy into that kind of thing, but something about this man, his confidence, his calmness—it was intriguing.

“I’ll give it a shot,” Jake said, not fully convinced.

The cowboy tipped his hat. “Might be what you’re lookin’ for, son. Embrace it, and you’ll be surprised where it takes you.”

The next morning, Jake sat at his kitchen table, staring at his phone, his curiosity getting the better of him. He hit play on the video. The music was soft at first, but soon it picked up—a low hum of country tunes overlaid with affirmations. Phrases flashed on the screen: strength, discipline, focus, cowboy grit.

Jake scoffed at first but decided to let it play while he worked from home. The video rolled on in the background, and slowly, something inside him began to shift.

Over the next few days, Jake felt… different. It was subtle at first, almost like a shift in the background of his mind, but as the days went on, the change became undeniable. At work, where the constant hum of city life usually gnawed at him, something had shifted. The noise of the city—horns blaring, engines rumbling, people rushing past in a frenzy—had always felt like an attack on his senses. But now, it was like his mind had learned to filter it out. The overwhelming rush of coworkers demanding this and that suddenly felt less important, like background noise rather than a storm he had to weather. Jake wasn’t reacting to every little inconvenience like before. Instead, he felt… steady.

He couldn’t explain it, but it was as if something inside him had found its footing. Where there had been anxiety, there was now calm. Where there had been stress, there was a sense of grounded strength. It was almost as if nothing could shake him anymore, as if he had discovered a deeper part of himself that thrived on patience and discipline. The chaos of the city didn’t matter as much now, because somewhere inside him, he was becoming someone bigger, someone stronger than the noise around him.

Then there was the gym.

Jake had always been someone who dabbled in working out. He’d go for a jog every now and then, maybe hit the weights when he felt guilty about skipping too many days, but it had never been serious. Now, though, something inside him had woken up. There was an urge that hadn’t been there before, a desire to push himself that felt raw and real.

One evening after work, instead of heading straight home like usual, Jake found himself walking into the gym with a sense of purpose. Without even thinking about it, he made his way to the free weights, eyeing the barbell in front of him. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt compelled to load more weight than he ever had before. Maybe it was the subliminal taking effect, or maybe it was something deeper within him that had finally stirred awake.

He gripped the bar, feeling the strain as he hoisted it up. The weight was heavy—heavier than anything he’d lifted in a long time—but instead of stopping when his muscles began to ache, he pushed through it. There was a strange kind of satisfaction in the burn, in knowing that he was going beyond his limits. Strength and discipline became his mantras as he lifted, each rep feeling like a step toward something bigger, something stronger. It was no longer just about the physical challenge; it was about mastering himself.

By the time he left the gym, drenched in sweat, he felt something he hadn’t felt in years—pride. Not just in the effort he’d put in, but in the realization that he could be more. That night, as he showered and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, something else caught his attention. His shoulders—they looked broader. His arms seemed fuller, his chest tighter. He brushed it off as the post-workout pump, but the next morning, when he looked again, the change was still there.

As the days passed, the transformation continued. Jake’s body wasn’t just changing—it was growing. His shirts started to fit differently, snug across his chest and arms. He found himself flexing in front of the mirror after every gym session, admiring the way his muscles swelled under his skin. The pleasure he took from seeing his growing physiquewas undeniable, and with each flex, he felt a surge of confidence he hadn’t known he needed.

It was satisfying in a way he never anticipated. The bulky cowboy build he had admired on the man in the bar—the cowboy who had given him the video—was now becoming his own. He felt powerful in a way that was more than just physical. It was as if the strength he was building in the gym was seeping into his mind, reinforcing that calm, grounded feeling he’d been experiencing.

But it wasn’t just his body that was transforming—his mind was changing too.

Jake’s tastes began to shift in ways he hadn’t anticipated. He found himself taking an interest in things that had once seemed distant, even irrelevant. At first, it was subtle—a feeling, a slight tug when he passed a country station on the radio. He couldn’t quite place it, but there was something about the twang of the guitar and the way the lyrics captured a sense of simplicity, of life lived at a slower, more meaningful pace.

He resisted it at first, brushing it off as a fluke, but as the days passed, country music started to sneak its way into his playlists. It wasn’t long before he found himself actively seeking it out, drawn to the stories being told in the songs—the honesty, the grit, the appreciation for the small things. Lyrics about long dirt roads, endless skies, and working with your hands spoke to something deep within him, something that felt almost forgotten.

The more he listened, the more it felt like home—a place he had never been but somehow knew. The noise of the city, once his soundtrack, began to feel hollow, like it was missing something real. The lyrics in the songs reminded him of a life that was stripped down, pure, and authentic, and as he absorbed more, he felt a pull inside, something that whispered that this was the life he had been missing. It was as though the music was gently coaxing him to remember who he was meant to be.

It wasn’t just the music. Images of open fields, horses galloping, the simple joy of watching the sunset from a porch—all of it stirred something in him. It was like a veil had lifted, and he began to see the appeal of the cowboy lifestyle. The rush of city life, the constant pressure to move, to climb, to consume—it all started to feel like a distant memory, something that had once held meaning but now seemed meaningless.

One weekend, without much thought, Jake wandered into a western wear store. The smell of leather hit him as soon as he walked through the door, earthy and rich, filling the air with a sense of tradition and strength. For a moment, he hesitated, glancing around the store with a bit of uncertainty. This wasn’t him, he thought, or at least, not the version of himself he’d always known. The Jake who wore button-down shirts and polished shoes didn’t belong in a place like this.

But then, something shifted. He couldn’t explain it, but there was a pull. The smell of the leather, the rows of cowboy boots, the racks of flannel shirts—it all felt right. Like he had been here before, like he belonged. He found his feet moving almost automatically, drawn toward a pair of cowboy boots that caught his eye—classic, brown leather, with a worn-in look that spoke of adventure and resilience. Without much thought, he picked them up and tried them on. They fit perfectly.

The feeling didn’t stop there. His hands moved to a pair of jeans, thick and sturdy, built for work, not just for show. Next came the flannel shirt, its weight and warmth settling over his shoulders as if it was made for him. Each item felt like it was calling to him, like they were pieces of a puzzle he hadn’t realized he needed to complete.

When he stepped into the changing room and put them all on together—the boots, the jeans, the flannel—he felt something click. As he looked at himself in the mirror, his breath caught. The man staring back at him was different. The broad shoulders, the muscular arms that strained against the fabric of the flannel, the rugged look—he didn’t just see a reflection. He saw strength, capability, a man who was connected to the earth, to something primal and real. He looked like someone who worked with his hands, who knew how to take care of himself.

He flexed, watching his biceps swell under the fabric, the seams stretching with the movement. A grin spread across his face. He felt powerful, like he was stepping into the man he was always meant to be—one who was grounded, strong, and in control. There was a pleasure in it, a satisfaction that came not just from how he looked but from how it made him feel inside. The clothes were more than just clothes. They were a symbol of the change he was undergoing, a physical manifestation of the strength he had been building—both inside and out.

It wasn’t long before hunting and fishing became his weekend routine. Jake found himself rising with the sun, craving the stillness of early mornings by the lake or in the woods, rifle slung over his shoulder, or fishing rod in hand. There was something almost meditative about it—the way the world felt calm and silent, the only sound his breath, the crunch of dirt under his boots, the rustle of leaves in the wind. The quiet of nature was the opposite of the city, and it gave him something the city never could: peace.

But it was more than just peace. The patience required in hunting, the skill needed to wait for just the right moment—it all felt right. Every time he lined up his shot or cast his line, he felt connected to something ancient, something essential. The physical strength he had built in the gym had a purpose here. It wasn’t just for looks. It made him feel capable, in control, like he could handle anything the world threw at him.

The rest of his old life started to fade away. The noisy nights at crowded bars, the constant pressure to stay on top of things that didn’t really matter—it all started to seem so… irrelevant. Instead, Jake started watching videos made by cowboy content creators, following guys who lived the life he was slowly stepping into. They talked about rodeo, horse riding, and working on trucks. He found himself nodding along, absorbing every bit of their wisdom, eager to learn.

It wasn’t just learning—it was becoming. He was becoming something more, something truer to himself. One afternoon, as he got under his pickup truck to change the oil, his hands covered in grease, he couldn’t help but smile. This was real. The feel of the tools in his hands, the satisfaction of fixing something with his own strength—it was what he had been missing all along. Each turn of the wrench, each smear of grease on his skin felt like a connection to the life he was embracing.

For the first time in his life, Jake felt truly in control. Not just of his body, but of his mind, his life. He was becoming the man he was always meant to be—a cowboy, through and through.

Finally, after weeks of change, Jake found himself back at the same bar where it all started. The city lights flickered outside, but they seemed dull compared to the quiet strength he felt within himself. He walked into the bar, boots heavy against the wooden floor, his stride confident, his presence commanding. The weight of his broad shoulders, the bulkof his arms straining against his flannel, and the calm demeanor he now carried set him apart from the crowd. He felt more than just different—he felt like he belonged somewhere else, somewhere deeper.

The cowboy was there again, sitting at the counter, his hat tipped low. It felt like a full circle, like Jake had come back not as the man he had been but as the cowboy he had become. He slid onto the stool next to the man, a quiet confidence radiating from him.

The cowboy glanced up, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, look at you, partner. You’ve changed.”

Jake nodded. “More than I expected. I didn’t realize how far off track I’d gotten.”

The cowboy chuckled, his voice steady and warm. “That’s life. Sometimes you lose sight of what’s real, what’s true. But it looks like you found your way back.”

Jake looked down at his hands, calloused now from working on his truck, from hunting, fishing, and lifting at the gym. He didn’t need to say anything. He felt it in every fiber of his being. Strength, not just in his body, but in his mind and in the way he faced the world. He had become something more—grounded, disciplined, and powerful. He wasn’t just another city guy trying to fit in. He was a cowboy, inside and out.

But as Jake looked around the bar, he noticed something else. He saw others, the way they slouched in their chairs, glued to their phones, drowning their stress in drinks. It was the way he used to be, always chasing something but never feeling truly connected to anything real. Now, he could see it so clearly—the potential in them, untapped, waiting to be unleashed. They were like ponies, timid, lost, unaware of the strength they held inside, waiting to become bucking broncos—waiting for someone to show them the way.

Over the next few weeks, Jake couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed to do more, not just for himself, but for others. He had found something real, something powerful, and he wanted to share it. When he talked to his friends, his coworkers, even strangers he met at the gym, he could see it in their eyes—that same restlessness he once felt. The dissatisfaction with the grind, the search for something meaningful.

Jake started to subtly plant the seeds, talking about his transformation, about the cowboy code he had adopted, the simplicity of the country life. At first, they were skeptical—laughing off his suggestions, joking about his new flannel-and-boots look—but Jake didn’t mind. He could see beyond their reactions. He could see the potential in them, the part of them that craved the same thing he had craved—freedom, strength, and a sense of purpose.

“You’re chasing the wrong things,” he would tell them, his voice calm and confident. “You don’t need the city noise, the pressure, the constant distractions. What you need is something real. Something that makes you stronger—inside and out.”

Some brushed him off. But others… others listened. Slowly, they started to come to him for advice, curious about the changes they saw in him. Jake became a mentor, guiding them through the same steps he had taken. He showed them how to build physical strength, but more importantly, he showed them how to find mental strength. How to stay calm under pressure, how to live with honor and discipline, and how to embrace the cowboy lifestyle that had given him so much clarity.

He started taking a few of them to the gym, pushing them through workouts the way he had pushed himself, watching with pride as their bodies began to change. But it wasn’t just about the physical transformation. It was about helping them unlock that mental resilience, the calm strength that had become his foundation. He encouraged them to get out of the city, to take up hunting, fishing, and working with their hands. He knew that the more they embraced the cowboy code, the stronger they would become, not just in their bodies but in their minds and in the way they faced life.

For Jake, it was about more than just muscle or a new wardrobe. It was about turning ponies into broncos—guiding those who felt lost or weak into becoming the powerful, capable people he knew they could be. He could see the wild strength in them, the potential to break free from the chains of their old lives and ride through life with confidence, just as he had.

Each day, he watched them transform—slowly at first, then with more certainty. Their shoulders squared, their voices deepened, their confidence growing with each step they took toward the cowboy life. Jake felt a surge of pride with every person he helped, knowing he was giving them more than just advice. He was giving them the tools to become themselves, the strongest, most resilient versions of who they were meant to be.

One evening, after a long day of working with a few of his friends, Jake found himself back at the same bar where his journey had started. He leaned back against the bar, cowboy boots scuffed and dusty, his flannel rolled up to his elbows. He smiled as he glanced around the room, noticing the subtle changes in the people he’d helped. He’d started something—something bigger than himself.

The cowboy from that first night appeared again, almost like a figure of fate. He sidled up next to Jake at the bar, his familiar grin back in place. “Looks like you’ve been busy, partner.”

Jake nodded, his voice steady. “More than I thought I’d be. They’re coming around, one by one.”

The cowboy tipped his hat, looking around the bar, the room filled with people who were on the same path Jake had once walked. “That’s the thing about cowboys,” he said, voice low. “We don’t just ride for ourselves. We ride for others. Show them the way.”

Jake smiled, looking down at his hands. “Yeah,” he said. “We do.”

As he stood there, feeling the quiet satisfaction of not just his own transformation but the changes he had sparked in others, Jake realized that he had become more than just a cowboy. He had become a leader—someone who lived by the cowboy code, someone who helped others find their way back to what was real.

And as he looked around the bar, he knew he wasn’t done. There were still ponies out there—waiting to become broncos.

[veronicaphoenix]

until the stars stop shining | noah sebastian

previous part to all that's left, but it can be read as a one shot.

summary: noah and his girl spend an evening by the lake | words: 1.2k | reading time: 5mins

tags & trigger warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff. noah is an illustrator, reader loves baking cookies, mentions of noah having been reader's first, and that's it—they love each other a ton.

This is for the anon that asked for something sweet and fluffy after i posted All That's Left. I hope this does it. It's not actually a standalone work, but a sort of flashback belonging to the same story where All That's Left happens. I have a full plot developed in my head, but I can't tell if I'll ever write it and post it, so here goes this little thing where you get to know a little bit more of those characters and the story.

Thank you for all your constant love and support <3

 ͢ until the stars stop shining

Noah leaned back in the Muskoka chair, one leg lazily stretched out, balancing his sketchbook on his lap. He was shirtless, only wearing his bathing suit. For over an hour, he had been sketching, savoring the tranquil solitude offered by the lake, the warm caress of the late afternoon sun, and the rustling of leaves. Early fall was the perfect time for moments like this, when nature felt intimate and unhurried. Most of the tourists had long gone, leaving behind only the soft chorus of birds and the quiet murmur of waves licking the shore.

The breeze teased the pages of his sketchbook, carrying with it the crisp scent of pine needles and the rhythmic whisper of water against the rocks. Noah’s pencil glided in slow, thoughtful strokes as he tried to capture the scene before him, but his thoughts drifted constantly to his girl.

The door to the cottage creaked open right then, and she stepped outside. She carried a wooden tray filled with oat cinnamon cookies, their powdered sugar dusting glinting in the soft afternoon light. The sweet, comforting aroma mingled with the crisp air, making Noah smile to himself even without glancing back. 

She padded softly down the dock, her bare feet almost silent against the worn wood, and placed the tray on the armrest of his chair, her fingers grazing his shoulder in a brief, affectionate touch.

“I baked something,” she said, her voice carrying that familiar warmth. Of course she had. Baking was her favorite thing to do.  “Something sweet for my favorite artist.”

Noah grinned as he finally looked at her, his eyes catching on the spot of flour smeared across her nose. She had no idea it was there, and he decided not to tell her—she looked adorable like that.

“You need to refill your energy after working so hard for hours on end,” she pointed out as she glanced at the open sketchbook on his lap. 

Instead of reaching for a cookie, Noah broke off a small piece and gently brought it to her lips. Her smile widened as she took a bite, the sweetness melting on her tongue. A moment later, he let out a soft chuckle, reaching to brush a crumb off her lip with the pad of his thumb. His eyes lingered on her for a beat longer before dropping back to his half-finished sketch.

“I’m not half as good at drawing as you are at baking,” he admitted.

She tilted her head, glancing at the sketch. “This one looks pretty good to me, Noah.”

He smirked, a playful gleam in his eyes. “Wait until you see the one I did last night, after you fell asleep on the couch.”

“Why do you find it so entertaining to draw me?”

His gaze softened as he looked back at her. “Because you’re my favorite subject.”

That’s when he bopped her nose, making the flour stain disappear.

Her grin was bright and effortless as she leaned over the back of his chair, wrapping her arms around his neck. She rested her chin on his shoulder, close enough to feel his warmth. “And you’re my favorite person to bake for,” she whispered.

Noah’s cheeks flushed slightly at her words, a rare blush coloring his usually composed expression. She kissed the warm skin of his left cheek, lingering for just a moment before pulling away with a satisfied smile. She wandered toward the edge of the dock, her bare feet padding softly against the wooden planks. She sat down, her legs hanging off the edge.

Noah watched her for a moment, admiring how the wind gently tousled her hair and the way the light danced off her skin. The contentment in her posture, the way her eyes reflected the colors of the setting sun—everything about this moment felt perfect.

“You ever gonna let me teach you how to swim?” Noah asked.

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze fixed on the water before she responded quietly, “I don’t know... I’m still a bit scared of it.” She dipped her feet a little deeper, letting the cool water lap around her ankles. “But... I love being here. With you.”

The memory of that first visit just the two of them was vivid in both their minds. This was Jolly’s cottage, the same place where Noah and her had meet back when she was still fourteen and he was eighteen. They had spent countless of weekends and birthdays and fourths of July in this very same place. But nothing had been as special as the weekend Noah convinced Jolly to let him stay with her, alone. It had been six years since then, and even now, the memory of taking her virginity—in Jolly’s bed—was still as clear as water.  

Noah watched as the wind played with her hair, blowing soft strands across her face. He picked up his sketchbook again, unable to resist capturing her in this moment—the peacefulness, the effortless beauty. His pencil moved in quick, steady strokes as he sketched her sitting at the edge of the dock, her feet in the water, the sun casting an orange glow over the horizon. He knew that one day, he would marry this girl. There was no question in his mind.

Once satisfied with the drawing, Noah quietly set his sketchbook aside and rose from the chair. He walked over to her with slow, deliberate steps, his heart swelling as he took in the sight of her in this perfect, secluded spot. Without warning, he bent down, pretending to lift her by the underarms as if he were about to toss her into the water.

She yelped in surprise, her heart leaping as she felt her feet lift off the dock. “Noah!” 

Before she could fully react, Noah pulled her back into his arms, turning her around to face him. She clung to him, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, her arms tightening around his neck, her pulse racing from the surprise.

“Don’t you dare!” she gasped, breathless from both fear and thrill, burying her face against his neck.

Noah laughed with her, holding her close, feeling her warm breath against his skin. “I wouldn’t let you go that easily,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

Still holding her, Noah carried her over to the blanket they had left spread out on the dock earlier. He gently laid her down, her body sinking into the soft fabric, and then settled beside her. 

“Don’t you ever,” she started to say, “ever, let me drown, Noah Sebastian.”

“Never ever,” he promised, showing her his pinky finger. 

She laced it with hers and finally, she let out a heavy sigh and cuddled closer to him, nuzzing her cheek against his bare shoulder. 

They lay close, facing each other, their fingers lazily tracing along each other’s arms and faces. Neither spoke for a long while. Her fingers trailed down his chest while his hand rested lightly on her hip. Above them, the stars began to appear, one by one, until the sky was a dark, glittering canvas. The moon’s reflection shimmered on the water.

“How long will you love me?” Noah asked, his voice barely louder than the breeze.

She gazed at him, eyes warm and steady. She placed the most tender of kisses on his lips.

“Until the stars stop shining.”

[pinkandgoldensoul]

CL#16 || living in vain || drabble

Navigation || Masterlist

If this is your first time here on this blog, please check the Disclaimers here.

pairing: charles leclerc x female!reader genre: extra angst, comfort !tw!: negative thoughts, mental breakdown. If any of the things above might trigger you, please DO NOT INTERACT. Take care of your mental health and stay away from triggers, please ♥ other notes: you can find the request here word count: 0.7k

Cold spread from your fingertips onto your skin, printing shivers all over your arms as you braced yourself under the duvet. You trembled, hearing the howls of the wind shaking trees in the dead night, incapable of falling asleep. You curled on one side, trying to get small upon the mattress. That stone cold loneliness hardened your heart hit after hit. Gripping the hem of the sheets tighter and closer vainly seeking warmth, you let out a sigh. You felt like crying. As any other day. As any other week, month, year. Maybe bitterness and despair would eat your heart out and waste it gradually until you'd die, consumed; maybe tears would leave marks on your cheeks like acid rain digs holes on marble statues. Maybe you'd be left sinking into pain for the rest of your life, laying sleepless in your bed every single night.

You pressed your cheek harder on the pillow, almost burying half of your face. Thoughts popping up like your brain is a computer running with countless viruses. Where's the bug? Where's the bug in you? Where's the infected folder? Your own WannaCry malware? Where's the option to turn off everything, shutting down the engine, putting an end to it?

You whined against the pillow. You silently gasped, noticing Charles moving a bit by your side; you should've paid attention, instead of risking waking him up. His precious soul, his shining armor blinding you with its brightness, the mere thought of his perfect love for you brought you to tears. Again, you hid your shame, your guilt and sorrow against the pillow, and finally some warmth came through hot tears rolling down your cheeks. The air flowing quickly in and out your parted lips matched the rapid gusts of wind whistling outside the window; you had perfected the art of silently crying just so that you wouldn't ruin Charles' needed rest time. As not to ruin his life completely, at least. So selfish to drag him down to your level just for your own benefit, when he could choose anyone else and live the fulfilling life he deserved. Stuck with you. What a senseless waste of time. You covered your mouth with your hand, eyes shut in pain.

«Hey…» Your breath hitched, not sure whether you had misheard him mumbling to you. As his loving and warm touch sparked on your skin through the gentle grab of his hands, drawing you near his chest, surrounding you and creating a shelter of comfort, your sob cut through the silence of the bedroom. He shushed you with tenderness, reaching over to your ear and carefully putting rebel strands of your hair in place, with soothing movements dictated by sleepiness. «It's okay.» You sobbed louder and tried to retrieve from his embrace at his words, knowing their falsehood, but Charles' arms didn't let you escape his nestle of care. «Whatever is the matter, we're going to solve it together.» He then left a kiss on your shaking shoulder. «I'm here for you, okay?» His fingers, spreading open on your stomach, felt like a caress to the soul. And though your head ached - from crying, from hurting, from the weight and the darkness of its content -, you couldn't help but notice the muscles of your body relaxing a bit into his hold. «I love you.» Another hot tear crossed your cheek, but at his words you smiled. You took the arm draping over you and placed it higher, so that it would wrap over yours, shielding you completely; Charles complied right away. «You're freezing cold… Want another cover?» While Charles was about to roll over to get out of bed and grab another blanket for you, you caught his arm, silently pleading him not to leave you. Reading your will, he engulfed you back again, fully, wholly, unconditionally, affectionately, holding you with nurturing sweetness, resting his head next to yours. «Let’s sleep.» Such a simple sentence, yet breaking your heart into more sobs. So many nights you had wished for peace to come quick, in various shapes and forms; what a relief, what a moving joy, what undeserved luck to have it, at last, in the purest of its manifestations. Love.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! ♥ I’D REALLY APPRECIATE IT IF YOU LEFT A NOTE FOR FEEDBACK, SO THANKS IF YOU DO! HOPE YOU HAVE A NICE DAY! . · ˚✧

Navigation || Masterlist

[reputationolivia]

try again?

would anyone be interested in this, i thought of this plot awhile back and started working on it recently but i feel like its just gotten long and idk i feel like it might be a bit boring? so idk if anyone would be up for reading this! but i put a little snippet of it here so if anyone sees this please share your thoughts! :)

18+ minors dni

warnings: none for this one yet.

summary: you and harry dated for almost 5 years but you ended things, only problem? you got a cat together three years ago that you co-parent.

wc: 1.8k

I glanced around in search for opal as I tied the laces on my shoes. She’s always been good at hiding when she sees her crate out and ready for her, but i was ready for her today with her favorite treat in hand. "Opal, where are you baby?” I called for her. pacing through the living room I heard a faint meow coming from the kitchen, and i sighed, already knowing where she would be - the narrow gap between the counter and the fridge. I bend down and waved her treat in front of her little face to get her interested in it. “Come on out sweetie,” i coaxed, slowly her fluffy face popped out of the gap and she began licking the treat. I took this as my opportunity and gently tugged her out and scooped her up, letting her have the entire treat now as I walked over to her crate.

As I helped opal get settles into her crate I tried not to think too much about the trip ahead and what’s to come. The keys jingled in my hands as i snatched them from there small side table near the front door creating a slight sound of normalcy between all of the craziness my life has been lately. I slung my headphones around my neck, and with opal securely inside her carrier i finally stepped out into the bright, sunlit street. I caught my reflection in a car window and felt a bit ridiculous - sunglasses on, headphones dangling, and cat in tow - i shrugged it off and began my journey to the subway station.

The subway ride was pretty uneventful, at least it was at first. Opal was sitting quietly in her crate beside me as she watched the window in front of us, watching the city blur through the window. I put my headphones on and mindlessly browsed through Apple Music, i eventually decided on just playing “my station” after not being able to settle on any of my existing playlists. I wasn’t thinking of anything in particular really, i mean besides the fact that I was currently on my way to meet my ex boyfriend of 4 1/2 years. As if my phone knew what was on my mind a familiar melody began playing, i felt my body tense as i recognized it immediately, my chest tightened and the air suddenly became too thick to breathe. I reached for my phone to skip to the next song. It was his song, of course it’d be my luck that’s the song that starts playing as I’m on my way to see him again. Of course, skipping it didn’t help, the damage was done.

Moving on has been hard, actually it’s been more than hard, it’s been hell, absolutely brutal. We were together for so long, four and a half years. That’s a long time to share a life with someone, it wasn’t just the memories that lingered though - it was our plans, the dreams we shared that we’d stay up all night talking about, when the world felt ours. Marriage, kids, a beautiful house with a garden, i thought it was all within reach, that it was just a matter of time. But now? Just the sound of his voice in a song sends me spiraling. It’s only been a couple months since we broke up, and seeing him as often as I do doesn’t exactly help with the whole “moving on” thing.

But now, all we have left is opal.

Opal. Our little baby. She wasn’t quite a child, but the closest thing we had. We adopted her when she was just a baby, three months old. After we broke up neither of us could bear to part with her. we had gotten her together so in the end we decided on co-parenting opal, which isn’t ideal but at the very least she had two people who loved her, and despite our failed relationship i knew she was safe with him. Even if seeing him every time i dropped her off still hurt.

The familiar ding of the subway pulled me out of my thoughts and i realized we were at our stop. I pulled my headphones back down to the back of my neck as i stood up, then grabbed opals crate and hopped off the subway. I felt like the subway ride ended far too quickly, and before i realized it i was walking up the now somewhat familiar street towards his apartment. as i got closer and closer each step i took felt heavier than the last. It felt like i was dragging the weight of everything we left unsaid, unresolved. I tightened my grip on opals crate, her quiet purring served as a reminder that despite everything, some things hadn’t changed.

But most things had.

I wasn’t the same person who used to walk the streets of New York with him by my side, laughing at the stupidest things, talking absentmindedly about everything, and nothing at all. Yet now it feels like that was a lifetime ago when in reality it was just a few short months ago. And now here i was, walking the streets of the city we once shared, alone. Having to act normal in front of the man i loved, love but trying not to as I’m about to hand over our cat like it was just some business transaction, something normal.

Ahead i spotted him standing in front of his building. He was leaning against the wall near the doors to the lobby, looking down at his phone, a casual stance that didn’t betray any of the turmoil i was feeling. Typical harry, i thought. Always composed, always calm. I wished i could say the same for myself. I reached up with my free hand to adjust my sunglasses, hoping they hid more than just the sun from my eyes. As i approached his eyes were still glues to his phone, did he even notice i was walking up to him? Now a few feet away from him, i clear my throat in hopes of catching his attention, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible.

He finally looks up, his green eyes meeting mine, and though he couldn’t see mine due to my sunglasses i swore i could see something flash in his - recognition? Annoyance? Regret? I couldn’t quite place it. Maybe I’m just imagining things. “Hey,” he said, finally pushing off the wall and sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Hey,” i replied, keeping my voice as steady as i could even though every bit of me felt like breaking and like my voice was shaking with the tension of being this close to him. We walk into the lobby and i crouch down to let opal out. Immediately, she dashed out of her crate, and toward him, brushing against him with a happy meow. I couldn’t help the slight pang of jealousy i felt at how easily she seemed to adjust to this life of back and forth we’d created for her. I wish it was that easy for me.

“It’s been a while, nice shoes by the way.” Harry said as he crouched down, scratching opal behind her ears. He didn’t look at me when. He said it, instead keeping his eyes on opal. I couldn’t tell if it was a statement or a subtle dig when he said it’s been a while. “Yeah works been a bit hectic, and thanks.” I responded as i stood there awkwardly and hugged my arms to myself. Suddenly the distance between us felt a lot larger than just a few feet.

He stood up slowly, his gaze finally meeting mine, and i just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me whole. “How’ve you been?” He asked, for a moment i almost believed he actually wanted to know.

Good. You?”

“Same.” he said, glancing down at opal again.

The conversation stalled, i could feel the silence expanding between us, this is all we had now — awkward exchanges, empty words just to fill the space where something real used to be. I wanted so badly just to say something, anything that could break through the surface. I didn’t even know where to start, everything felt too different, too fragile and close to breaking. Opal meowed again, winding between our legs, completely oblivious to the tension hanging in the air between us.

I sighed, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “She’s been eating normally. Likes to hide under the bed more often lately but that’s probably because of all the travel recently.” Harrys eyes softened a little. “Yeah, she’s always liked her hiding spots huh.” He paused, then added, “I’ve missed her.” His words hung there, suspended in the air between us for a while and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if he was just talking about opal. I nodded at his words, something about the way he said it lingered longer than it should have, i tried to push it aside, maybe I’m just reading too much into his words. Looking down at opal again i sighed, “i’ll uh, see you later.” I mumbled, now just wanting to get out and as far away from this awkward situation as possible. I turned to walk away before he could say anything, i felt his eyes on me as i made my way towards the lobby door. His gaze was sticking with me more than i wanted it to.

As i exited the building, i felt my footsteps heavy on the ground again. I took a deep breath, taking in the fresh air and trying to clear my head. I couldn’t stop thinking about all the what-ifs. How i wish i could be done with all this. I couldn’t afford to keep dwelling on our past, especially not with everything going on. At least through all this change i still had my job, and im fortunate enough to really love my job. My job has always been my escape, allowing be to take a break from my real life and everything i had going on. I could create stories outside my own, i could be in control, or at the very least, i could pretend to be. But in moments like this, i was just me - and I couldn’t pretend to be anyone else. I had no script or direction, and I didn’t know how to fix it.

The months after the breakup have been such a blur, it’s like I’ve been moving on autopilot. Filming, press events, and trying to keep it together in front of the cameras. I was good at that. I’ve played so many different roles, performed rehearsed lines perfectly, but none of that could’ve prepared me for the messy reality of seeing him. Missing him.

[circeyoru]

Collection of Overlords _ Part 16 = Requested

[Alastor x Soul Owner of All Overlords!Reader]

Part 1 — Part 1.5 — Part 2 — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5 — Part 6 — Part 7 — Part 8 — Part 9  — Part 10 — Part 11 — Part 12 — Part 13 — Part 14 — Part 15 — Part 16 (here) — Epilogue

“203 shots.” Carmilla announced once the time was out.

Husk halted in his attack while Valentino dropped to the floor, the charged cards all losing their effects and fell to the ground one by one. Wounds all over Valentino’s form to the point where it looked like he was dumped in red paint. The demon didn’t even have the energy to argue or ask what all that was about. On the other hand, Husk landed on his feet and folded his wings with a proud look on his face, evident by his smirk. 

“The victor is Valentino, since he had landed more shots.” You spoke up, not missing the way Valentino gave Husk a dirty look while Husk wasn’t even fazed by the ‘lose’. 

Valentino taunted with a smirk, “Can’t even win when you cheat.”

Husk gazed at him lazily, “For your information, you only said hit the red things, you never specifically say what red things. So… I wasn’t even cheating.”

“You..” Valentino growled, just as he was about to stomp his way to Husk, you interrupted.

“Husk, what would be your challenge?” 

“Flight.” Husk stated as his wings opened, “Let’s see who can reach our own booth the quickest. Or you could just give me the win.” 

Valentino’s eye twitched, a scowling frown shown. “As if I would ever.”

After catching your nod of acknowledgement, Husk started the countdown. “Ready, set, go!”

The moment Valentino opened his wings with a pained expression, Husk threw charged bomb dices at Valentino and readied his cards once more. In his wounded state, Valentino could only take the ambush and defend himself as best he could. “What is this…?”

Husk answered nothing and continued to attack while Valentino tried to evade. When Valentino was in the air, Husk counted and flew ahead of him with his healthier state, grabbing Valentino in whatever area he could get his claws on and threw the moth back onto the platform. From the amount of craters and the depth of them, everyone could see there was no playing around with Husk.

While the challenges all sounded simple enough and practically childish, it takes the participant’s mindset and logic to make it twisted. If one were to think simply, all would take it at face value, like Valentino did with his challenge when he summoned actual target boards to shoot. Husk saw the loophole in the rules and done accordingly, to satisfy your wishes while fulfilling his own personal wants. That was what you wanted from your Overlords.

Without a timelimit, essentially, this round could only end when one of them actually reaches their respective booth or Valentino gives up. 

“My bet’s on Husk for this round. What say you all?” Rosie opened a conversation while the platform’s battle continued. 

Every spectator looked over to Rosie who actually had the guts to chat during such an important event happening before them. Velvette looked over to Carmilla and Vox eyed Zestial for some form of hint as to what they could do or say since their status as Overlord was still relatively new in your eyes.

Alastor chuckled, “I second that. No way would the cat I brought under my well care lose to a moth of that stature.” He played with his cane as he gave the others a smirk, “Failure is not an option.”

You hummed, with a soft smile, you lifted your cup to your lips. “In that regard, if Husk were to have challenged you, would you lie down and protect his victory?”

Once more, Alastor chuckled, “Of course not, My Liege, the moment Husk regained his title by your will, he is no longer under my care but yours. However, I’d never let the challenge through,” He raised to his feet with a bow, “For all your precises souls should never fight each other for the sake of our own scabbles. Not unless,” His eyes glowed at the obvious implications. “You permit it, My Liege.”

Your smile widened. Alastor sure does have his way with words. “Well said, Alastor.”

“So the victor was decided the moment this challenge began.” Carmilla remarked with a grin of her own. “My Liege, you have a wicked sense of humour.”

You merely hummed as you sipped on your drink, making no comment on her claims. 

It wasn’t like Valentino didn’t tried to retaliate after Husk showed his true colours in his round, but it was more like he was unable to. Although the previous round was his win, he has exhausted his guns and bullets, adding to that, he was never the confrontational type where he battles other demons on the front line. Such was the reason why he was so keen on sharing the Overlord title with Vox and Velvette because they would hide his misability and weaknesses while showing his strength.

Still, even when it was Husk’s lost in the previous round, he used it as a guarantee win for his round. By inflicting such wounds and injuries on Valentino, the moth was basically powerless. It showed everyone Husk’s calculated moves and quick thinking to give himself the edge and step down on his opponent. Not to mention, showcasing his superior strength and powers even after just being released from his soul contract with Alastor.

“...I give up…” Valentino choked out.

“Tsk. Coward.” Husk clicked his tongue and backed away. 

“It appears to be a tie, so the winner of the final and special round will be the owner of Angel Dust.” You stated with a hint of playfulness. “The last round is simple.”

Valentino and Husk were forcefully moved to the oppose side of the platform while Angel and his cage was moved to the center. The platform was split into three areas, with the grey area that separated the red area where Valentino resided and the black area where Husk resided.  

“If this isn’t obvious enough, I’ll have Angel decide where he wants to go. There’s no catch or play. If Angel goes to the red shaded region, he will continue to belong to Valentino. If by choice Angel goes to the black shaded region, his soul contract will be moved to Husk as his new owner. The round ends when Angel touches either region. If Angel doesn’t move within 20 seconds, however, he will be… Well, let’s not get to that.” You grinned, “Oh, but the Overlords can’t leave their region, how to tell is their feet must be touching their respective region. Are the rules clear?”

“Yeah.”

“Crystal.”

“Wonderful.” The cage disappeared with the snap of your fingers and the round begins.

A smokey chain appeared around Angel’s neck and wrists just as Angel started to sprint to Husk’s direction, only to be dragged back. Valentino held the end of the chains with a snarl. “You must be f***ing high if you think I’d just let you go!”

“Damnit!” Husk cursed as he fired his charged cards at Valentino and the chain. 

“Let go of me!” Angel screamed. 

Husk’s eyes narrowed as he stared at the chains and their quality. Smoke and loose. Just like the contract. “Angel, pull back!”

An extra pair of hands formed and Angel turned around and planted his feet into the platform as hard as he could to give him some form of advantage against Valentino’s pull. “I’m not letting you boss me anymore!”

Husk closed his eyes as he tried to force out something.

“Overlords all have some sort of trump card or a more dominant and haunting form.” You told Husk as Alastor was cooking you a meal. It was late into the night and all the hotel residents were in their room but you three who were still lingering in the kitchen and dining area. “Take Alastor for example, he has an enlarged form and a more demonic form. The others also have them, but they are more secretive with theirs. It’s elementary but a crucial tool to use against others.”

“I’ve never had something like that before.” Husk spoke honestly and defendedly. 

You hummed since you couldn’t understand what the challenge was, you looked over to Alastor and asked, “Say, Alastor, which form is easier? Enlargement or demonic?”

At your question, Alastor’s head turned 180 to look at you, making a resounding crack sound. “Hmm, not sure. It came so easily to me. But… Perhaps demonic? Size manipulation does take a bit of energy. I merely prefer both at the same time.”

You smiled, “And how dashing you looked when you do.”

“Mn!” Alastor flinched at your comment and snapped his head to the side with a blush, “Thank- Thank you, My Liege.”

“Your meat’s burning.” You reminded.

Alastor immediately snapped back to normal and continued cooking while your words repeatedly looped in his mind like a broken record. 

You turned back to Husk, “I’d agree, demonic seems easier and more straightforward for you to master in a short time. However, because it’s so normal and easier, it’s seen as nothing special. So in terms of intimadation, it would be lacking.” You pointed and poked at Husk in the chest from across the table. “At the moment, your powers are limited because of your contract with Alastor, so there’s not much you can do. If you want to win against Valentino for your dear friend, you need to adapt and change the moment you’re released from your contract.”

Husk’s claw tapped on the table with a frown of uncertainty. “Can I though?”

“The challenge for his contract won’t be announced by me, initiative is with you. This will also be your only chance because I have will remove Valentino from my Collection of Elites permanently.” You stated.

“Is this something you can tell me?!” Husk flinched at the news. 

Your face was one of disinterest, near emotionless. “My keener Overlords are aware who would be next to be devoured. They are only in the dark about when it will happen. You’ll pick up this bit soon, or Alastor and the other would let you know in time. Some are saved and one’s not so lucky to escape. So you see, there will be changes.”

“... Okay… But if he’s to be removed… Then Angel will be free…”

You laughed, and Alastor even chuckled, a teasing smirk now on your face as you ridiculed Husk’s naive and fantastical thought. “To remove him means everything of his will be mine. Including Angel. I am no saint nor am I an angel that grants happy ending. This is Hell. All contracts under Valentino’s ownership wll be mine and so their souls will be reduced to nothing as well, just like their master.”

Husk gasped.

You got up and went to join Alastor while giving Husk one last advice. “Being uncertain and cowardly will cost you a lot more when you’re in my Collection. Remember these words.”

Husk roared as his wings opened and slowly enlarged, growing two times his size, then three, four, five, and six. Similar to an extra pair of hands, his wings curved forward and came to Angel’s side. The marginal coverts part of his wing gently wrapped around Angel’s form, while the other wing flicked at Valentino to produce strong winds that knocked him back to the edge of the platform. 

With Valentino’s hold over the chains gone, Angel was free. He immediately ran into Husk’s hold while Husk’s large wings covered Angel from Valentino’s view. “Husk!”

“You’re safe now…” Husk sighed in relief, his wings returning back to their usual size. He held Angel’s hand and looked in your direction. “It’s over. This round, this challenge is over.”

You smile. “Indeed it is.”

“No. No! I don’t deserve this! I was betrayed! Those fucking b*tches Vox and Velvette left—!”

“Don’t you dare talk down to them.” Your Cages all dove down into Valentino and began tearing into his body bit by bit, his screams rang in everyone’s ears as it went on. As that happened, you changed the content of the contract and moved the ownership of Angel to Husk before passing it into his care. 

Your Overlords all stood in attention and bowed deeply to you. Angel flinched and also did the same, silently thankful that you would allow such a thing and even let him have a say in this. Even though there was no need for you to even care when he acted so foreign and borderline hostile to you in the hotel. 

You crossed one leg over the other and smirked, leaning your cheek to your knuckles. Your head tilted with your signature smirk, “With that, this gathering is over.”

.

.

.

“Hellish morning today at 666 News, right, Tom?”

“Right you are, Katie. Don’t we have something important to announce to all of Hell today?”

Zestial was seated in the empty audience seat of Velvette’s new threatre while she was on stage with her workers organizing them and arranging everything.

“Breaking news indeed! This just in from our big boss The Collector, the Vees have broken off from each other! Velvette and Vox remains but Valentino is no more.”

Rosie grinned with sharpened teeth as she watched her people devour a feast provided by your generosity. She eyed the meal in front of her and her hands cupped an soul with a wavy tail at the top. A soul. Slowly, she brought it up to her lips and devoured it in one gulp.

“Gone. Disappeared. Dead. Off the face of Hell. Who knows, he’s gone that’s it!”

Carmilla and Vox were both looking over designs for some technological weapon and serveiliance system together in Carmilla’s workshop while her daughters were setting refreshments on the table.

“That’s not all, folks! We got news that Husk as returned to the Overlord ranks and has taken over Valentino’s region, the gambling areas and bars alike! Looks like he’s giving the other Overlords a run for their money, or should I say souls? Hahahaha!”

Husk’s wings let him hover in the air as he directed his contractees and Zeezi’s what to do for the Vees tower to be reconstructed as his base. Husk landed before Zeezi and gave her a smirk to while she returned, they looked forward to the construction before them.

“That was some big changes. Looks like after a meeting held by Carmilla Carmine, alleged leader of the Overlords, their members have changed and so have the domain ownership in this Pride Ring.”

“That’s right, Tom. So everyone’s gotta make sure to be more aware of the new Overlords and their domains at least. After the last purge, they are not pulling any punches. With Alastor’s return, the Princess’ win against Heaven’s extermination, there’s more to come for Hell.”

Alastor set down a tray of your favourites while your head was turned to the direction of Hell’s scenery, he placed everything in a neat order and bowed his head before he was gently moved by your Cages to take a seat in front of you. 

You turned your attention to Alastor and smiled. “I can’t wait to see what happens next.”

Note: Now, this is the final part, but there's still the Epilogue that transitions into Season 2. Supposedly. Question for you guys~ What do you think is the relationship between the Collector and 666 News?

Circe Y. 

My Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist: (those that don't specify to being in all the works' taglist will automatically be assumed to be in whichever series they comment on)

@aconfusedwonderland @crowleysthings @donustellaron @mistpurpl3 @lucifers-silhouette @fluffy-koalala @snowy-violet @charlottesskiss @plutobots @ray-rook @thealienartist @serenity-songbird @galaxydreamer468 @raynerrold @wen01203 @hikari-michiko @colecreo @myromanempiree @xsamkuro @yourdoorisunlocked @clavelina @jono723 @cursedcattalastor @an-idyllic-novelist @flamiohotman2024 @rea-grace @myromanempiree @veroneverleft @lousypotatoes @crazysuityouth @jellyedkazoo @wat4r @kiraisastay @thealienartist @chefysawesomeideas @wtvbabes @patronizingbitch @koshi-kazu @craftyperfectiontragedy @scr4luv @chrollobb @mysterypotatoink @callmefe @dokukg69 @ratchetprime211 @freejayde @prettyprincess-ily @cgmajor @mook14 @ace-spades-1 @yuuandtheghost @abbiesxox @martinys-world @kiraisastay @umbreon-worshipper @crimsonflameproxy @the-gay-trash-gremlin @ratchetprime211 @soggyb0nes @newkatzkafe2023

[fatal-thoughts]

A Lovely Exchange

Telemachus x Servant! Reader

Synopsis: Telemachus already fights off his mother’s suitors, but what if he manages to become one? To… one of the palace’s servants?

warnings: slow burn, flustered Telemachus, puppy love, assault, threats

A/N: This is fluffier than what I usually write, but I couldn't help it. I love him sm wtf

Part 1 of ???

You went about your routines as usual—watering the garden, cleaning the halls, fixing any imperfections in the palace, and even helping other servants when needed.

It wasn’t unusual to see you wandering around the palace; after all, you were the queen’s favorite assistant.

No one really knew why or how you and the queen were so close, not even you. But you knew there were both benefits and drawbacks to it.

Including being a target of the 108 suitors now living under the same roof as you.

As much as you wanted to continue your duties as usual, they never failed to hinder your responsibilities.

You were heading toward the palace dining room. Though it was the last place you wanted to go, you had to pass through it to reach the kitchen to prepare something for the queen—who also refused to set foot in there.

So far, so good, until you stepped into the hallway. The once loud and distracted suitors were now eyeing you.

You swallowed nervously, the lump in your throat growing, but continued forward, treading slowly so as not to attract more attention than you already had.

You made it to the end of the hall, believing you were safe, until you felt someone grab your wrist and pull so hard you almost lost your balance. You looked up and saw one of the queen’s most persistent suitors: Antinous.

The man had a proud smirk on his face as he looked down at you, still holding onto your wrist. He’d made multiple attempts to converse with you, all of which you declined, so you weren’t entirely surprised that he’d resorted to these measures.

"Ah, well, if it isn’t the lovely slave herself.”

That pissed you off.

You knew you couldn’t do anything about it, but if you could, you’d have slapped him by now. Instead, you jerked your arm away from him.

But that didn’t stop him. He grabbed you again, this time by the arm, with a much tighter and more painful grip, making you gasp in pain.

“Whoa now, where do you think you’re going? You don’t think you can just run off that easily, do you?” he taunted, leaning closer to your neck, his voice low.

“We want the queen, and since she’s unavailable, I guess we’ll have to settle for you.”

You glanced behind you, noticing all the men in the hall staring at you with intense gazes filled with hunger, desire, and thirst.

Frightened, you hurriedly tried to break free from Antinous’s grip. He chuckled softly, holding you tighter and pulling you closer. You struggled with all your strength until, finally, he let go. But it wasn’t because of your effort.

His gaze had shifted—he was no longer looking at you, but at something, or someone, else.

Backing away from him, you looked behind him and saw none other than the queen’s son, Telemachus.

He was gripping his sword, pointing it at Antinous.

“Leave her alone.”

You were surprised, to say the least. You and Telemachus had never really spoken. He usually avoided you whenever he ran into you.

You never understood why. Every time you saw him, he’d dash away like a startled deer.

But now, here he was, standing in front of you, holding a sword to one of the suitor’s neck.

Antinous raised his hands sarcastically, a smug grin on his face as he glanced between Telemachus and you.

“Alright, I’ll leave her be, little wolf.”

He walked past you, but as he did, he whispered, “Don’t think I’m done with you yet, slave.”

You recoiled instantly as he let out a shameless laugh.

You and Telemachus watched him walk away, and then you quickly exited the dining hall.

Catching your breath, you adjusted your hair and robes, trying to calm yourself. No suitor had ever approached you with such aggression before, and now Antinous had gone to these lengths? It was terrifying.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you realized Telemachus was still standing in front of you, staring at you like a deer caught by a hunter.

You raised a brow, confused. Did he see something?

“My prince, are you… alright?” you asked, still somewhat shaken. After all, he did just save you. Maybe he was in shock?

“Shit, shit, shit, shit—” was what was running through Telemachus’s mind as he stood there.

He hadn’t really thought he’d get this far. All he saw was you in danger, and his instincts had taken over.

But now that he had actually saved you, talking to you afterward wasn’t part of the plan—if he even had a plan.

He was practically begging the gods that you wouldn’t notice the inconvenient pink hue on his cheeks because that would only make things worse.

He had gone to such lengths to avoid you, to ignore you, to ward you off—foolish attempts, all of them—and now here you were, standing right in front of him.

He waited for you to tell him that you knew. Knew he admired you, probably too much.

His lips quivered slightly as he stared at you, unable to stop himself. Come to think of it, he’d never noticed how beautiful you were up close. The shape of your nose, how perfectly it fit your face. The look in your eyes, with the soft tint of color. And your lips, how pretty they looked, even when they smiled just a little.

“Fuck, I’m staring,” he muttered under his breath, snapping out of his trance.

Which you definitely heard.

You tilted your head slightly. Was he okay? Had Antinous done something to him?

No, he was just a nervous wreck because his childhood crush was standing right in front of him, and he was so not prepared.

If Athena was watching him right now, this was definitely not a battle she had prepared him for.

With a silent, desperate cry, he cleared his throat, trying to make the situation less embarrassing than it already was.

“I-I’m fine. How are you?”

…

Seriously? THAT’S the best you could do?

He stared at the ground, trying to mask his shame. Maybe if he couldn’t see you, you couldn’t see him either, right? Zeus might as well strike him down with lightning.

He was about to punch himself when he heard something.

You were… laughing?

He looked up to see you covering your mouth, short giggles escaping your lips.

Was it bad that he found them so pretty?

Eventually, you calmed down.

“Thank you, my prince, for saving me back there. Truthfully, I wouldn’t know what to do if you hadn’t come to my aid. So, thank you.”

You bowed your head, expressing your gratitude.

“How can I repay you, my princ—”

“N-No! It’s fine, please! I don’t need anything. You’re safe, that’s all that matters. I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to you, so just…”

And now he was rambling.

Nice going, Telemachus. Might as well confess to her right here and now, right? Just go for it!

Before he could continue his spiral, both of you noticed a familiar silhouette approaching. As she got closer, you immediately recognized her.

And she did not seem pleased.

“Queen Penelope! Forgive me, I was delayed on my way to the kitchen. I’ll quickly fetch your meal as you requested—”

“No, it’s alright, Y/n. You are not the one I am concerned with.”

Her gaze shifted sharply to Telemachus, her eyes almost piercing through him.

The boy’s soul nearly escaped his body when he saw the way his mother looked at him.

“Son, come with me.” Penelope turned and walked away without another word.

Telemachus glanced back at you, taking in your beautiful presence one last time.

“I…”

“Quickly, Telemachus.”

If there was one thing he didn’t want to do, it was anger his mother. He feared her more than any god.

“I’lltalktoyoulaterbye!” he blurted out as he hurried to catch up with her.

That… was something. For a first impression, it wasn’t that bad, right?

Right?

Ah, shit.

He followed Penelope as they walked through the halls, still unsure of where they were headed, but he kept his pace with her.

Eventually, they reached the palace garden. A place where Penelope liked to unwind, where Telemachus often rested, and where you, conveniently, loved to work.

The queen sat beside the marble fountain, and Telemachus followed suit. A comfortable silence fell between them as they enjoyed the peaceful moment. It had been some time since they’d spent time together, and both of them treasured even the smallest moments.

“You like her, don’t you, son?”

…

Wait… WHAT?

So, what do you think?