#atonement sex scene

[eversncenewyork]

🗣🗣🗣

[qingxin-dream]

“Righteousness”

summary | in another timeline, kunikuzushi never redeemed himself. he took interest in a different kind of heart—not the Gnosis, not a Vision—but yours. (art credits: @/Shiqaruki on twitter).

warnings | lore, kidnapping, kuni calls you ‘little songbird,’ profanity, brief mention of physical abuse, manipulation, praise & degradation, pining, obsessive/possessive, smut [18+, MDNI], dubcon, female-bodied reader (wears a dress & lingerie), dominant kuni, choking, yandere jealousy, murder/arson threats, worship, slapping, finger-fucking, mirror sex, kuni receives oral, deepthroating, edging/teasing, orgasm denial, mention of breeding

genre | yandere, smut with plot, canon-divergent

word count | 4.5k

pairing | kunikuzushi/scaramouche x reader

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In a time all but forgotten, a young boy sat on his knees, caressing a hand-sewn doll in his palms and looking up with childlike compassion to his companion.

“There once was a puppet solider whose greatest wish was to be with a ballerina doll forever and ever,” he began, his eyes reflecting the scene of his storytelling imagination.

He gently squeezed the doll in his hands, as if to comfort his companion before the truth spills from his lips. “But the solider didn’t have a heart and didn’t know where his feelings came from.”

“One day, his owner didn’t want him anymore and threw him away into a fire. But even in the flames, his eyes never left the ballerina,” he continued with a more somber tone, drawing attention to the gut-wrenching ending of a tragic romance.

However, his voice shifted, offering soft words of wisdom and hope to his distraught friend. “The next day, the people found a tiny heart in the ashes left by the fire.”

Instinctively, the beautiful puppet sitting before the young boy curled his lip in disdain. “Probably ashes in the shape of a heart… but that’s not a real heart.”

He could hear the affectionate smile pulling at the corners of the young boy’s mouth. “Maybe, but what if… hearts can be born from ashes?”

“What a joke. It’s just ashes,” the lonesome puppet can barely conjure up a breath in his agony. “Nothing left but ashes.”

As his chest twisted and clenched with the wretched filth of so-called human emotion, the divine puppet came to a profound realization. His body merely served as a hollow shell, cursed by the ghost of mortal weakness—a living testament to the depths of an Archon’s visceral mourning.

In his naïveté, he had trusted the boy he thought to be his friend. He had believed that silly little fairytale, that maybe he wasn’t as empty and worthless as he felt. There was no heart to be found in the cold vessel of a failed god.

Kunikuzushi would have to claim one for himself.

Sin.

The ultimate temptress of mortals. The manifestation of human greed and desire. That which demands repentance and atonement for fear of eternal damnation. It is hinged on the human condition that death is inevitable.

Mortals are easily persuaded by morals and ideology if it means life after death in a paradise that is not guaranteed. Humans create false narratives to exercise the sick satisfaction of controlling one other. When all is said and done, the real struggle is for power—namely the power to control fate itself.

For those who are destined to roam the world with no such motives, imprisoned in an earthly purgatory, sin and salvation are laughable notions.

There is no reason to live, for you cannot die; Sin knows no bounds and comes with no price.

“The sooner you accept this, the better,” Kunikuzushi laments, his face just inches from yours. The bewitching twinkle in his lavender irises has remained all these centuries, a cruel illusion masking the abyss beneath. “Nothing you say will change my decision.”

You were really quite the picture, if he was being honest, all tied up for him. Kunikuzushi loathed that just the sight of you was enough to make the void in his chest cavity ache with longing. A reminder of his imperfection.

Anyone else would have died a violent death for such a transgression. But you presented a unique opportunity.

“Kuni, please,” you whimpered, your pleas falling on deaf ears. On the contrary, he loves hearing your voice, especially when you beg so earnestly. “I-I don’t know what I did wrong… I’m scared. Please, let me go…”

The puppet hushes you lovingly, his lips brushing against your delicate skin toward your ear. “Hey, now. There’s no need for that. You’re safe with me, little songbird.”

You flinch, gasping and recoiling in fear, turning your head away defiantly. It’s not like you could push him away, your little limbs bound to a tall column in the kitchen nice and tight. Hot tears pricked at your eyes. It burns like hell.

“Untie me, Kuni!” you shrieked, squirming and struggling against the binds to no avail.

He snatches your face firmly between his thumb and two fingers, squishing your cheeks to the point you felt pressure on your skull. “Ungrateful slut. Didn’t I explain this to you already? Your heart beats for me from this day forward.”

Frozen in shock, your body stiffens involuntarily as fear floods your veins, rendering you utterly helpless. Even as he gazed upon you with an icy, detached stare, you couldn’t find it within yourself to fault Kuni for this act of desperation. He could never make sense of himself and the pain that came with betrayal after betrayal.

Why even try to embrace humanity if it would mercilessly punish you for not having a heart?

You still remember the day you found him, it was but a coincidence you both crossed paths. Kuni was a wandering traveler, or at least that’s how he introduced himself. He seemed kind enough. You were particularly taken by his appearance, so lovely it was almost inhuman.

It just so happened that you were willing to offer him a place to stay. It took a bit of convincing on your part, actually, but you were worried about the string of murders near your village recently. Someone must have had an insatiable vendetta against the blade-smithing arts, striking them down one by one.

A small knowing smile pulled at his lips, his eyes creasing slightly with amusement as he marveled at how you opened yourself up so easily. This was the first time he had talked to a human in who knows how long. Perhaps since the young boy’s passing many dreadful seasons ago.

Kuni found the void in his chest persuading him to entertain his curiosity about you.

He had to admit, once you both got to know each other, it was quite the impeccable arrangement. During the day, you provided the kind of mundane tranquility and domesticity he had always dreamed of. Thankfully, your residence was in a rural part of the countryside, which offered much appreciated security and seclusion from the world.

Once you were safely tucked into bed and sound asleep, he would lie restlessly in the guest room. Puppets have no need for sleep. On some lonely moonlit nights, he would entertain his own fantasies of you. In the absence of such desires, he was compelled to satisfy his blood thirst.

Though Kuni had long forsaken the human emotions that afflicted his existence with disappointment and abandonment, his burgeoning relationship with you had quickly proven to be the last remaining vestige of his innocent supplication for a purpose.

In fact, he demanded it, after witnessing you day in and day out slipping from his grasp. He was growing impatient, waiting for something more. You had always stopped short of taking a little leap of faith to hold his hand or kiss his forehead, leaving him yearning for your touch and attention. Why?

Even in your presence, he was not alleviated of his turmoil. A number of possibilities plagued him. Were you dissuaded by his artificial constitution? Did he make a fatal miscalculation? God forbid, was there someone else?

No matter how many times he twisted, folded, and bent reality in his mind, trying to make sense of you, he never came to an agreeable conclusion. By the time Kuni realized just how deep you had nestled yourself into the empty husk of his heart, it was too late for the both of you.

All of this mental anguish and pining was unbearable. Unacceptable. He loved you, yes, but needed you more.

The puppet’s chest fluttered as you willingly complied, tears staining your cheeks, but that’s okay. His soft pink lips brushed against your cheek once more, kissing away your precious tears. It was his first taste of you.

Kuni cradled you in his palms like a delicate doll, his thumbs ghosting your cheeks. He leaned in closer, indigo bangs tickling your face and his mouth parted with a breathless question. “Is your heart… truly mine?”

He had broken you, and you had no choice but to nod slowly.

“Say it for me, little songbird,” he encourages you with a warm intonation. His eyes were trained on your lips.

“I-I’m yours,” you replied weakly.

No sooner than you could speak were his plush lips pressed to yours, a breathy hum of relief exhaling through his nose. In turn, you muffled a whimper, overwhelmed by the sensation. He had untied you, knowing you couldn’t hurt him but he could certainly hurt you.

Kuni was gentle at first, relishing in his first kiss with you. He carefully took your wrists to guide your hands to his body, and he wrapped his arms around your waist to pull you against him. Still, you trembled in his grasp.

“There’s no need to fear,” he whispers between kisses, holding your face to his. “I will take care of you.”

He can’t bear to leave your lips. Guiding you towards him, he leans against the kitchen counter and tucks a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. A small prayer barely escapes his lips. “(Y/N), hold me… touch me… please.”

“Kuni,” you choke out, tears forming in the corner of your eyes again. You are silenced with increasingly fervent kisses, one of his hands trailing down to your neck just by his fingertips, giving you goosebumps in the wake of his featherlight touch.

“You are going to give yourself to me. Your heart is my heart, and I will not have you hiding any part of yourself from me,” his voice grows a bit more insistent, closing his fingers around your throat as a threat, but not yet squeezing. “Do you understand?”

You give a feeble nod, unable to look at him directly. Every time your gaze locked with his, it sent a pang of terror jolting through your fragile body. He brings you closer by your neck, kissing you with more confidence than before. There is a little part of you that is worried you are unable to discern fear from excitement.

The puppet lets his hand slip further, fingertips finding the contour of your chest. He hesitates briefly, then allows his palm to feel your plump breast. The act was enough to elicit a little whine from you, and he knew right then and there that he had to hear it again.

“Do you… have any inclination of how long I waited for you?” he whispers hotly onto your lips, feeling down your waist at an excruciatingly slow pace. He smoothed each wrinkle of your dress with his thumb, tracing the silhouette of your figure down until he felt the hem of your underwear through the thin fabric. His breath caught.

You were still not as receptive to his advances as he would like, and suddenly he scoops you up to hook your legs around his hips, pressing your back against the nearest wall in the hallway. Kuni was beginning to reveal his desperation for you in more ways than one, breathing a little heavier. He was determined to have you submit to him and if you weren’t responsive to his soft side, then so be it.

“Answer me,” Kuni lowers his voice with a commanding edge, his lips just inches from your neck while his messy indigo bangs tickled your jaw. You whimpered, involuntarily moving your hips against him at the mere thought of his mouth on you.

At long last, you found your voice—delicate and decadent with a tinge of spine-prickling anticipation. Perhaps you had lost part of yourself, your humanity, in him too. “H-how long, Kuni?”

You shivered slightly, feeling his mouth spread into a satisfied smile against the sensitive skin of your neck. His voice deepens further, sultry and needy, “Lifetimes… I’ve been so goddamn purposeless for too many fucking lifetimes, just waiting for you.”

Without warning, the touch-starved puppet sunk his teeth into the crevice of your shoulder at the base of your throat, sucking at the weak spot to bruise the skin with his mark. A surprised yelp fell from your mouth, and you so nicely turned your head to offer him more. He clutched your curves tightly, as if he was secretly wishing your bodies would just melt into each other.

Ba-dum… ba-dum… ba-dum…

Your precious heartbeat echoed through his chambers of his chest. Kuni craved that little pulse of yours, chasing it up your neck in heated, sloppy kisses. All the while, you encouraged him with sweet little sounds of pleasure, softly asking for more under your breath.

“It’s mine,” he reiterated, perhaps to help immortalize the sensation against his lips. With a faint growl and yet another love bite, he added, “You’re fucking mine, you hear me?”

If only he could be bothered to pull back and catch a glimpse of how the puppet had unraveled you beyond recognition, equally as intoxicated by the heat of the moment. No matter. He will have his fill of you in due time.

“Y-yours, mhmm,” you capture his wet lips halfway, experimentally swirling your tongue with his passionately. You were clinging onto his shoulders, entangling your fingers in the soft ends of his pretty hair resting on the back of his neck.

With a faint moan against your mouth, Kuni lifted you once more by slipping his hands under your dress to feel his digits press into the soft flesh of your ass. It was light work to carry you, giving him the opportunity to squeeze and smack your ass with a smirk.

Slipping into your bedroom, he set you down and turned you around by your hips so that you were facing the tall mirror just a few feet away from the mattress. He leans over your shoulder from behind and you blush heavily at the image reflected by the mirror. Both of his beautiful hands traveled up your body simultaneously, one feeling your stomach, ribs, breast, and resting around the bottom of your throat.

The other, however, caught the frilly ends of your dress, sliding it up your skin at a painstakingly slow rate. Kuni’s violet irises shimmered with obsessive desire, admiring every inch of your body that was exposed to him. He bunches the dress in his fist as he raises it above your hips, revealing the most angelic lacy undergarments accented with cute little ballerina pink ribbons. Kuni chuckled, his breath tickling your neck.

“Do me a favor, darling,” he whispers into the shell of your ear, kissing it lightly. He takes his time to unveil your breasts, each one perfectly shaped with lovely nipples begging to be pinched. “Open your mouth.”

You comply, watching yourself in the mirror with curious fascination, before Kuni stuffs the thin, light fabric of your dress into your mouth. He nibbles your ear playfully. “Hold that for me.”

His eyes marvel at your body. If you told him you were a goddess, he would believe you without hesitation. Divine or not, the puppet was hell-bent on worshipping you like he had been dreaming of. Kuni played with the intricate lace of your snow white lingerie, his thumb brushing your pelvis teasingly.

Instead, he takes two fingers and caresses your folds outside of the undergarment, pleased to feel your panties dampened with excitement. You quiver at the touch, moaning faintly. Kuni is enthralled by the sweet noise, taking the tiny lingerie by his thumbs and sweeping it down your pretty legs.

He immediately sits down on the edge of the bed, quickly pulling you into his lap and spreading your legs apart with his knees. There it was in the mirror. Your glistening flower framed with the loveliest soft petals.

Kuni couldn’t possibly restrain himself when you were presented so exquisitely, wasting no time to slide his fingers over your pussy. You groaned in pleasure, muffled by the dress in your mouth, relaxing against his chest as the puppet focused on rubbing circles around your clit. He kissed your neck and shoulders endlessly, admiring your reactions in the mirror and whispering lowly, “So good for me. So, so good for me, aren’t you, (Y/N)?”

Your thighs trembled. You desperately wanted to close your legs as his movements became faster on your clit, the stimulation swiftly overcoming you. Breathy moans soon evolved into incoherent pleas. Kuni held you steadfast with his legs, keeping you spread all nice, admiring how you twitched beneath him.

“What did I tell you?” his tone is one of warning, groping your right breast and littering your skin with a few more marks. “There are consequences to hiding yourself from me.”

The puppet suddenly swipes his middle finger over your leaking hole—causing you to moan lewdly—before slapping your pussy. It was a light but firm slap, sending an addicting concoction of both pain and pleasure through you.

After a brief moment, he returns to your folds to trace and admire it, then continuing his ministrations on your clit. Occasionally Kuni would let a finger slip to tease your entrance, finding that it drove you crazy.

“P-please, please, Kuni,” your words quivered like your body, bending easily to the pleasure he was so kindly bestowing you. It had to have been the hundredth small cry for relief tumbling from your throat, you were on the precipice of your climax. “I-I need it. Something, anything… fuck me.”

“You better not cum on my fingers,” the puppet orders, gathering your slick and gently inserting two fingers into your warm walls. You whined in frustrated pleasure as he stretched you slightly, pumping his digits in and out of you barely an inch but keeping you stuffed.

“I c-can’t, I’m…” you babble. Kuni knew you were on the brink already, but he wanted to at least try to prepare you for his cock. He suddenly pulls his fingers out, and with it escapes your climax. Tears were almost pricking your eyes. You could definitely feel them beneath the surface.

He slaps your pussy again as punishment for not listening to his commands. “Greedy sluts are not rewarded.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you mumble and he grunts, pushing you off of him and to your knees in front of the bed. Kuni makes quick work of his clothes, tossing his shirt aside and pulling his pants down enough to spring his throbbing cock free. You had certainly felt his hard length while you were in his lap, but seeing it rendered you speechless.

No different from the rest of the puppet’s beautiful body, Kuni’s cock was perfect. A few veins wrapped around his hard member, bulging under the flesh. Towards the tip, it was gradually flushed pink with hot need, a pearl of precum on his slit. You took him in your hand, butterflies swarming your stomach with the realization that he had more girth than you expected.

Kuni grabbed a fistful of your hair and shoved your face toward his cock with a simple demand. “Suck.”

You experimentally drag your tongue underneath his cock, licking your lips, and working your mouth on his tip to lubricate him first. Kuni’s eyes roll in the back of his head, resting one hand behind him on the bed as he moans deeply. “Fuck, (Y/N)…”

The sensation of you smiling with his cock in your mouth sent warmth through him. You eagerly fit more of him in your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue just the way he likes it when you received praise. Yet, Kuni needed more.

“You can do better than that,” he scoffed.

His grip on your hair tightened, pushing your throat completely down on his cock just to feel it once. The puppet twitched in your throat, letting out a seductive growl of pleasure. You gagged slightly, before pulling back with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. You coughed a little, but he cupped your chin and wiped it from your mouth sweetly.

“That’s my girl,” Kuni coos, guiding you up on the bed next to him and pushing you down onto your back. As much as he’d love to see you taking him in your mouth all evening, he had a prize more tantalizing waiting for him. Clothes on the floor, moonlight pouring over you both, the puppet vowed to never forget how you mewled as he dragged the pulsing tip of his cock along your wet folds.

Gasping, you achingly bucked your hips in tandem, utterly drunk on the delicious sensation of his thick length parting your pussy lips. You loved to be teased, that much was for sure and Kuni ate it up—the desperate crinkle of your brow in pleasure and how your breath became short.

He presses his tip at your warm hole, but never pushes it in.

You groan dramatically, sweat already forming on your forehead and you haven’t even began. Every bit of pressure he applies has you smitten, imagining the moment he finally fills you. “K-Kuni…”

The smug puppet smirks down at you knowingly, grinding his cock against you repeatedly, rubbing your clit just right. “Yes, my little songbird? Have something to say?”

Before you can speak, he kisses you to muffle your answer. You grow even more impatient, using your legs to keep his hips locked close to yours. Kuni peppers your jawline and neck with kisses and little playful licks of his tongue. “I’m listening.”

“Please,” you beg.

Kuni’s tone is unreadable. “Please what? Use your words.”

You give him a flustered look of desperation and he pins your hands on either side of your head, interlacing your fingers with his. You reply, biting your lower lip, “Fuck m-me, Kuni.”

A smile graces his face and his eyes soften, thumbs caressing your hand comfortingly to brace you for his length. “Is this… your first time, (Y/N)?”

Though you were a shy and kindhearted person, he should’ve known from the way you deepthroated his cock earlier that it wasn’t your first. He wasn’t your first. That means someone else was. Someone else defiled you.

Kuni’s electric purple eyes darkened like an impending storm as you shook your head.

“Indulge me,” the puppet asks. “What other men have been in my position?”

You are not in the right state of mind, still insatiably yearning for your climax and grinding your wet folds on his length. However, Kuni doesn’t accept your nonsensical mumblings and half-answers. His hands tighten around yours, pushing his cock into you with a guttural moan inch by inch until he bottoms out completely.

“Oh my fucking god,” you sputter out, sighing in sweet relief and a bit of pain. Your pussy is filled to the brim with his cock, stretching you out good. You try to turn your head away and close your eyes, but Kuni refuses to let you.

“That’s right,” Kuni’s voice is nothing short of alluring in the most raw way possible. “Treat me like your god and fucking look at me while you take my cock.”

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t also utterly euphoric as he sinks his large member into your tight walls. Gritting his teeth, he’s taken aback by how you squeeze him unknowingly, even your subconscious is unable to deny the pleasure he’s giving you. It took you a few seconds to adjust to his girth, your eyes drifting down his muscular chest and toned abdomen in admiration.

With the first drag of his cock out of you to his tip, hushed hum of pleasures are murmured by each of you, until he buries himself all the way back into you. Kuni continues in this rhythm with a few thrusts, unable to his stifle his own moans. He was no better, his climax already building within.

Pulling back, the puppet releases your hands to push your legs against your chest by your thighs to get just the right angle and perfect view of your folds. He hovers above you, fucking just his hot bulbous tip into your needy hole. In mere seconds, you cursed to yourself at how good it felt when he brushed against your sensitive entrance.

Your clit pulsated for attention. How could he not press his palm onto your pelvis and drag his thumb across the slightly swollen bud? His half-thrusts became shakier as you unexpectedly tightened around his cock—moans freely and loudly erupting from your throat. The feeling was beyond exhilarating and convinced him to push you to your limits.

“You think I’m going to let any other man put his hands on you like this?” Kuni sneers with jealous envy reflecting in his irises. “I’ll fucking snap his neck. I’d kill him.”

Impulsively, the obsessed puppet roughly plunges his entire cock into your soft pussy. He relishes in your loud moan of shock at the pleasure and slight discomfort in splitting you wide open. His cock pushes against that wonderful spot deep inside you, incredibly sensitive after all his torturous teasing. You were seeing more than stars.

“I bet they couldn’t fuck you like I can,” he scoffs, possessively pulling your closer by your legs and holding your ankles on his shoulders as he fucks you mercilessly. “Make you scream like I can. And—nghh—breed you.”

You were finer than a work of art, truly, in all your fucked-out glory as you chase your high on his thick cock. His thumb flitting over your clit messily, primal groans of bliss echoing throughout the bedroom at every divine flutter of your pussy milking his cock so well. Your words were simply unintelligible, mumbling breathy prayers wishing for his seed.

“No one can take you away from me,” Kuni himself is beginning to tremble with pleasure, but nevertheless he keeps up his brutal pace. Every crevice of your walls and your womb will know his essence. “You’re mine, and I’ll burn the whole damn world for you if that’s what it takes.”

In a rush of jealous envy at the mere thought of losing you, the puppet abruptly pushes your legs back onto your beautiful breasts by his chest. The erotic melody of your fluids coating the base of his cock and v-line with every sloppy thrust pushes you both over the edge of an impossible free fall of euphoria.

“Cum on me, (Y/N). C’mon, cum all over my fucking cock,” Kuni demands with salacious desperation, pounding into you again and again until you’ve ridden out every second of your climax. The sensation is indescribable as he swears he could feel your rapid heartbeat through your walls—your heartbeat in his hands like he’s the supreme god of your body.

And as such, he blesses you with ropes of hot cum to drown your pussy in his everlasting love. Kuni collapses and cradles you, wiping the tears of pleasure from your sweet, angelic cheeks.

Righteousness means nothing to gods, for whom salvation is too late and sin knows no price.

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist

[readychilledwine]

Lost Bonds pt 3

Summary - After the second war, an unexpected bond with Y/n Archeron, and repairing all he's lost, Tamlin is shocked with news from the very female Rhys has been protecting from him.

Warnings- alcohol use, implied affair,implied smut, sex magic/sex pollen

A/n- Everything will be explained to y/n and wrapped in a mostly pretty bow in Part 4 on Tuesday 💚

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 4

Tamlin sat in silence, nursing hard alcohol as Rhys reappeared before him hours later. “It explains a lot,” Rhysand said softly as he sat. Tamlin pushed the Winter Court Scotch Rhysand's way. “I swear we didn't know, Tamlin.”

“So Feyre admitted it?” Rhys nodded, staring into the bonfire Tamlin had going. “She's not truly happy anymore, Rhys.”

“We know. She hasn't been happy since she watched Cassian and Nesta fall in love and their mating bond grow, then Lucien and Elain, then Amren and Varian, Eris and his wife. Mor and Emerie.” The High Lord threw back a heavy drink. “Then Azriel found his mate. And now she feels like she's an obstacle to his happiness, he feels she's a burden but refuses to let her go. He wants both."

Tamlin hummed, ignoring the flaring anger at the idea of his mate being treated like a second choice, like a burden. “How did she end up in Spring?”

Rhys sighed and looked down. “She wanted to get away from Azriel. They had gotten into a fight while he was training her. She wanted to go somewhere she'd be loved and safe unconditionally.”

Rhys paused, eyes locked on the stars. “It's funny, you know, Feyre painted their dresser drawers to fit their personalities and they've predicted their mates too.” He drank heavily again, eyes watering slightly. “Feyre painted the night sky on hers and became the stars eternal. Nesta's was bathed in flames so red the closest match we could find to recreate the dresser was Cassian's siphons, and we watched that scene during the war with that so called God, silver flames blazing and reflecting the red of my brother's armor. Elain's danced with sunlight and flowers. Her and Lucien the heir of the fucking Day Court,” Tamlin couldn't help the laugh that came with that sentence, nor could Rhys. “They live in Helion's largest garden in a cabin.”

“And y/n?” 

“A raging storm and blooming trees.” 

“And yet you all keep her there. Where she isn't destined by the Mother to be and where she is screaming for freedom.”

“Feyre isn't prepared to forgive nor forget.”

Tamlin rolled his eyes, purposely pushing every moment he had done something to make up for what he had done into Rhysand's mind. “I believe I have more than atoned for my sins against the female that started this all on a lie. The female who ended my curse should have been my mate, Rhys. That's why I fought so hard. Why I protected her even if my methods were ideas from my father and blind trauma. Did you not explain that to her?"

Rhys avoided answering, torn between the part of him that knew Tamlin was correct and the mating bond screaming to protect and defend inside of him. “I'll start sending her to you as an emissary. If the bond snaps on her end, we go from there. And Tamlin,” the High lord took his former friend's chin into his face. “Be grateful. Be grateful you didn't hear y/n's neck snap, that you didn't watch her be tortured for 3 months. That-”

“I watched the woman I loved go through all of that. Then I watched my mate be forced into an ancient world creating pot because i trusted the wrong female,” Tamlin took back the Scotch, drinking enough to burn his throat. “I think we understand each other more than you are willing to believe.”

Rhys nodded, looking away. “Y/n likes her bed made with 3 blankets so she can sleep with the window open at all times. She thinks white flowers are the prettiest. She likes chocolate way too much for a normal person.” 

Rhysand's jaw tightened before he continued. “Do you remember how my sister use to scrunch her nose really hard when she was thinking?” 

Tamlin chuckled softly into his hand, picturing her little face so clearly. “Y/n does the same thing.” It was a quiet confession, one that could have came with an apology, but the two of them has accepted the words “I'm sorry” would never be passed between them many years ago. 

“So you've kept her from me because she reminds you of Stella?” Rhys just nodded before winnowing away. 

Tamlin felt his lip twitch when you first appeared two months later. Rhys was either stupid, or fatherhood had made the male forget to look at a calendar. You were here for a 3 day weekend visit to discuss trade between Spring and the Night Court. 

A 3 day weekend that fell on Calanmai. Tamlin was shaking as he led you to the chambers he had built just for you. Chambers his Lady would reside in when or if they were choosing to sleep in separate beds. 

He realized he would have to keep you in the manor tonight, but excluding a guest from a court's most important holiday was considered a major offense. He thought about calling for Rhys, calling to remind him what today was, but he knew, at least he thought he did, that you would stay inside. It had worked with Feyre, after all. He had stopped searching for her when she wasn't easy to get to. Surely it would be the same for you. The magic would switch and call to another. He'd be able to ignore the scent of lilac, gooseberry, and fresh parchment.

He pushed open the door and watched your face with a deep breath held in his chest. “Tamlin, this room is too nice. This is clearly meant for someone with high standing. It's across from yours, I can't-”

“These are guest quarters for a high-ranking guest,” the lie came so smoothly. “You are a high-ranking guest. Get settled. I'll have a handmaid come get you for tea.” He shut the door behind you, going back to preparations and letting the kitchen know he needed tea made. 

Your guest room was fit for a queen, not a guest. A large walk-in closet sat willed with dresses, an island in the middle with drawers for jewelry. A standing mirror with ornate patterns of florals and vines sat unused, untouched. The bed was massive, possibly larger than the one you shared with Azriel, and it had soft satin sage green sheets, a fur throwing blanket lining the foot. 4 posts came off the bed, a light cream colored fabric and curtains creating a canopy and optional privacy. A vanity sat, empty and waiting for its lady to fill it with oils and lotions. 

He had clearly put you in a Lady's quarters. A safe place for her to be away from her husband. Something you had asked Azriel for since his bond with Gwyn snapped, and you two had begun drifting apart. Something he continued to deny you as tensions grew between you two.

You entered the door opposite of the closet and felt your heart begin to dance. The bathroom was stunning. White and grey marbled floors, a sunk in tub large enough for two, accents of that same soft green and gold. It was what the tub overlooked that made your heart truly flutter, though. It overlooked a garden and the forest. Elain would have killed for this view, but instead, you sat on the ground, crossing your legs, and you took it all into yourself. Hogging the moment and soaking in it.

Nightfall came quickly, and Tamlin had warned you of what would come. You had made the choice to stay inside even though a pang of jealousy reared its ugly head.

You had no claim to him. No ownership over his body, his choices. It didn't change the emotion, though, as you laid your hands over the edge of that tub and watched fire make shadows dance across the leaves. 

He had warned you that you may feel tugging, a pull urging you to come outside. He had asked that you ignore it, and Cauldron, you were trying. You were ignoring that growing warmth in your stomach, the haze setting into your mind. You tried to focus on thoughts of the fight you and Azriel would finish when you got home. Of the way you would crawl into a separate bed from your husband as soon as he fell asleep, still smelling like Gwyn. You tried to focus your thoughts on your marriage and how it was slowly crumbling below you after his actions. 

But those tugs were growing stronger, aching in your chest with desire and need. You jumped as the door to your room slammed open, and Tamlin growled. He seemed more beast than fae, mind lost in whatever this ritual had done to him. “Tamlin?”

Your voice shook him enough as he kneeled down in front if you, broad chest exposed and covered in swirling paint. “Y/n,” his voice was strained as he struggled to keep his eyes on your face. “Should have sent you back.” He was grounding out each syllable. “Fucking Rhysand.” 

You felt it again, a harsh tug on your chest before warmth and dedication flowed into your body. You gasped at how close it felt and his eyes grew wide. “You can feel it?”

“Feel what? That tug?”

He nodded almost desperate as he lifted you out of the water and searched for something. He came back with your robe, wrapping you in it before trying to lead you somewhere. “Tamlin, where are we going?”

“The Cave.” His voice wasn't his own, but another tug came. That ancient echo spoke again, making you shiver.. “I won't allow this vessel to settle for less than his mate.” 

His mate. You almost froze, making whatever held Tamlin's body stop and throw you over his shoulder. “Close your eyes, and feel,” it commanded as it walked you out the front door. 

The cave was filled with the sounds of sex, the scent of magic, arousal, sweat. Tamlin laid you on a bed at the center of it, eyes blown with lust. You felt it then, that string binding your souls, holding you together like missing pieces to a puzzle. He was himself again now, looking down at you with hesitation. “I will let you go if you ask, little rose.”

Your body was humming, mind lost as your eyes began to water staring into his. “It's just mindless sex,” you repeated words you'd heard since Azriel's bond snapped. “It means nothing to you.”

Tamlin's brow knit, those green eyes aching with sorrow for you. “It means everything. You mean everything to me," and he crashed his lips down onto yours.

General Taglist:

Lost Bonds Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish

@impossibelle @fxckmiup @applerubyy @awkardnerd @sleepylunarwolf @macimads @esposadomd @stormhearty

[back2bluesidex]

Where Do Broken Hearts Go - Chapter 1 (18+)

Pairing: Model, ex-boyfriend!Jungkook X Child psychologist, Fem!Reader X Lawyer, Single Dad!Hoseok. 

Summary: Jungkook stripped your emotions naked, left you bare in the chilly wind of despair and self-doubt with an unending heartache. You tried your hardest to move on from him, to live for yourself but failed miserably. Each night you had to come back to your empty home where memories and broken dreams were scattered all around the floor, until one day a little angel and her unbelievably beautiful father came into your life. Finally, when you find yourself healing, maybe falling too, Jungkook had to show up! Again!

Theme: Angst, pining, heartbreak, break-up, SMUT (MDNI)

Warnings: lots of crying, reader is broken, she is suffering so bad, a flashback explicit sex scene, big-dick Jungkook, kind of size kink, he hits it from behind, shower sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up), creampie, Jung Hoseok enters the scene, he is so attractive that you might faint, subtle and flirty Hoseok, an adorable little girl, Namjoon makes an appearance.

It's not really mentioned but just so you know, Hoseok and reader has a slight age gap like 5 years. (which is not at all an age gap to me because my first boyfriend was 8 years older than me. haha. you didn't just read that.)

Word count: 4.2k

Taglist requests are closed.

Minors and karens are not allowed in this blog

A/N: First chapter is here. I wrote 4k+ words for a single fic and that's unbelievable. Anyway, I hope you guys like it, and I hope it's worth the wait.

Main Masterlist

Chapters:- 

Prologue/Masterpost || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 || Chapter 7 - Finale

“Reaching in 10 minutes” 

That’s what Jungkook texted you half an hour ago. 

It’s nothing new. He has always been late to your every date, every plan, every meetup. What is new is the lack of explanations and excuses following his delayed arrivals. He only apologizes and you hardly hear any sincerity in his atonements. 

You sigh, staring out of the huge window of the private cabin. 

Jungkook can’t meet you at your (supposed to be shared) home due to his “privacy” issues. So, you had to reserve this private cabin of an over-expensive continental restaurant. It’s funny how all of these feel so formal. It feels as if you are meeting one of your wealthy clients and not your boyfriend. This is how far Jungkook has drifted from you. 

Your feet bounce on the floor, reminding you that you are indeed very nervous. 

It’s a “leap of faith” situation for you today. If it works out then everything will start afresh, if it doesn’t… you will have to fall and break without having any idea on how to mend yourself. 

“Sorry. I’m late.” Jungkook’s muffled voice rings behind your ear. 

You were so lost in your thoughts, or fear, that you didn’t even hear him entering the cabin. 

He heads towards the seat opposite of yours, without any further greetings, any kiss or even a hug… not even a single glance.

“As if it’s the first time.” you scoff. Jungkook chuckles nervously, removing his mask and snapback. 

“Let’s order something. Heard their soy sauce chicken is a hit-” 

“Y/N, I can’t stay for long. Can you make it quick?” Jungkook cuts off your words. His tone is so curt, so foreign that you doubt if it’s actually him underneath his skin or not. 

“Jungkook… What's wrong? Why are you making things so formal? For fuck’s sake it’s me. Your so-called girlfriend.” Your voice quivers but you scream nonetheless. 

“Y/N! Quit being dramatic and lower your voice. We are not at home.” Jungkook hisses, teeth gritting, eyes narrowing. 

“Home? You mean the apartment you left because your agency said it’s risky to share a space with your girlfriend of three years? The same place you refused to meet at because paparazzi are keeping tabs on you as you are rumored to be dating someone else?” you reply with the same ferocity. 

Jungkook closes his eyes and rubs his face with both of his palms. Taking a sharp inhale, he says, “Can you please tell me why we are here? I don’t think you called me all the way here just so we can fight?”  

You roll your eyes, less in sarcasm, more in an attempt to make your tears disappear.

You sit straight as if being prepared for the sword that is going to pierce through your heart, “Jungkook, do you.. do you love me?” 

Jungkook visibly stiffens. His eyes go wide as if someone has asked him to jump off of the building. You see him collecting himself and clearing his throat only to lie, “O-Of course I do. But suddenly why?” 

Even though you want to believe his words, you know those are as hollow as his eyes and maybe his heart as well. 

“Then..” you pause, reaching for your purse. Pulling out the pitch black velvet box, you look at him. Jungkook’s eyes are wide again, filled with horror and confusion. He probably knows what you are doing and he does not seem to be the least bit happy.  

You stand up from your seat and round the table to reach Jungkook, “don’t you think it’s the high time we get engaged? It’s been three years since we started dating, our families approve of each other and” you pause, being unsure of whether you should say it, “and we have always wanted a future together.” You open the box for him to see, a tight-lipped smile lingers on your face only to punctuate your proposal.

Jungkook looks up at you with his big, doe, mystical eyes and then looks down on the ring you have spent a fortune on. Your heart hammers in your chest, but it is not the flattering kind. Your heart races in a fear that you are not ready to face yet.

Jungkook’s face falls and he looks away from you. He plays with his fingers and avoids any kind of eye contact with you. You stand there like a doll made of steel, staring at him holding the ring. 

“Y/N. This is not- I can’t. I mean, this is so sudden. I am at the peak of my career and I can’t think of getting engaged or married at this point of life.” he runs a hand though his dark hair out of frustration, “Why are you rushing everything like this?” Jungkook’s eyes are still trained on the table, not on you. 

“Because I am afraid, Jungkook. I am afraid you might leave me behind if I don’t try to hold onto you now.” you finally let your tears fall. Uncontrollable sobs leave your mouth. 

Jungkook whips his head towards you and then stands up slowly. He holds you by your arms and opens his mouth to say something, “Y/N. I-”

“But I guess it’s too late now. You were long gone. You were gone far before the day you were seen with her. I should have understood Jungkook. I should have…” you run out of breath but still continue, “now please answer me honestly, you love her. Don’t you?” 

Jungkook starts avoiding your eyes again. His grip on your arms loosens and you somehow know the answer already. 

“I never cheated on you, Y/N. I never lied to you.” He offers with eyes shut tightly. 

“But you never told me the full truth either.” your voice comes out weak. 

Jungkook remains silent for a while and then he continues with a frail voice, “That night. I mean, the photo that went viral, I was sending her back to her hotel. She flew all the way to the States to confess to me.” This is a new revelation to you, since you never really demanded any explanation from him. Honestly, you didn’t have the guts to face the truth. Rather you decided to try one last time. And that is what brings you here, defeated and rejected with a truck load of pain burdening you down. 

“And? What did you say?” you press on, being determined to end your suffering today even if it means you will have to return home with a broken relationship and a broken heart.  

“Nothing.” Jungkook gulps.

“You could not say no because you feel the same and you could not say yes because you still had me, is that right?” You know you awfully sound like you are in a session with one of your patients but you don’t care. You need to get to the root of this unbearable pain and cut it off for once and for all. 

Jungkook nods. Even though his eyes are hidden from yours, you know, those are full of guilt and shame but not a single speck of love and affection for you. 

You close your eyes, let the tears fall unbound, shut the box tight and take two steps back from your soon-to-be ex-boyfriend. 

“I know this is a stupid question but I- I’m just confirming” another sob leaves your mouth unintentionally, “do you want to break up? With me?” 

Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose. He is probably finding a way to say yes without having to hurt you more than you can bear. 

“Y/N..” he murmurs. This is most likely the last time you are hearing him call you by your name. 

“Jungkook, please, just yes or no.” You take another step away from him.  

“Yes.” Jungkook breathes out. His eyes are still shut tight. 

Even though you knew what his answer would be, it still hurts much more than it did in your imagination. 

You feel as if your head is underwater, you can’t breathe, can’t fight, can’t scream. You need to be saved but the person you want to reach out to is the same person who pushed you into this unfathomable water. 

Your vision gets blurry with tears again, you can’t see Jungkook anymore. And you guess it’s better that way. 

“Okay. That's all I think. That’s all for our three years of history. I hope you lead a happier life from now on. Goodbye….. Jungkook.” and with that you left without waiting for him to say anything. You left him and a part of yourself with him. 

You are again sitting at your dining table, holding your phone tightly in your hand. You are again re-reading a headline just like you did a month and two days ago. You are again trying not to cry but you are failing miserably. 

“Calvin Kline fame Jeon Jungkook confirms the rumors by kissing rumored girlfriend actress Han Jiwon at a club downtown - The agency is yet to provide a statement.” 

It's cruel, how you have to wake up exactly at 7 in the morning despite crying for the better part of the night. 

It's even more cruel, how your vacation application (which you have been pursuing for more than a week now) was declined harshly because there's a "priority client" and you, arguably the most competent child psychologist of the clinic, have to take over the case. 

You reach for your phone and turn off the alarm. 

Opening your eyes, you stare at the ceiling blankly. It's been two weeks since you last saw Jungkook at the restaurant. It's been two weeks since your relationship came to an end. And it's been four months since you are sleeping on your own but you still crave for his warmth beside you. 

Love can be a funny thing. At one moment it's fulfilling you, injecting your heart with a sickening sweetness and at another one it's ripping off your urge to continue living, it's stuffing you with insecurity and self doubts that you hardly knew the existence of. 

You wonder what Jungkook is doing now. Is he sleeping by himself or is he waking up beside Jiwon? Is he kissing her shoulders softly like he used to do to you or is he hovering above her, spreading her legs and inserting his large shaft inside. 

Your thoughts are shaken off with the vibrating sound of your phone. 

It's Miseon. The receptionist of The Mindscope ( the clinic you work for) and probably the only person you can call a friend in this entire world. 

"Morning." You greet.

"Hey. Heard that your application was declined?" Miseon chrips from the other side of the line. 

"Yeah. For some priority clients. Kim asshole Namjoon will be deep-fried in burning oil in a giant ass frying pan in hell." You grumble.

"So you are coming back to work today I guess." 

"Yes I have to."

"Will you be okay tho?" You can hear concern in your friend's voice. She's the only person apart from your family to know about your and Jungkook's relationship. So, she called you immediately after seeing the tabloids twelve days ago. You cried on her shoulder when she visited you. 

"Yeah. I guess. I have to start doing the actual work anyway. My eyes are in pain for the prolonged hours I spent staring at Microsoft Word for these two weeks. Ugh. Now I hate documentation even more." 

Miseon chuckles, “Okay, see you at the clinic then.” 

“Yeah. see you.” 

You drag yourself out of the bed and head towards the washroom. If this is a new start, then you better accept it. 

As soon as the warm soothing water touches your body, memories come rushing back, flooding your mind with despair in the process. 

“Jungkook… I’m gonna get late” you whine, head tilting back with pleasure. 

Jungkook’s hand snakes around your waist, fingers reach for your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“Five minutes won’t hurt, baby.” he whispers in your ear as his index and middle finger draw slow circles on your wet clit. 

His other hand teases one of your wet nipples, twisting and tugging it as harshly as he wants. 

A pool of slick gushes out of your hole making jungkook groan at the feeling. He dips his middle finger in your hole and collects some of your wetness, he then uses that to rub more smooth circles on your clit. 

You choke on thin air, moaning his name again and again you start to roll your hip on his naked cock. 

His giant cock fits perfectly along your ass crack, as if it was made to fit inside you. 

You roll your hips harder to elicit a reaction from your boyfriend. 

“Such a dirty girl, huh? All for me.” Jungkook’s husky voice pierce through your sober mind and you find yourself dazed with love and pleasure. 

Jungkook increases the pace of his fingers and you get more and more wet each passing second. 

“Kook.. I- I need you.” you manage to breathe out. 

“Don’t be vague, Y/N. Tell me what you exactly need.” Jungkook replies smugly. 

“I need your giant cock to ruin my pussy, daddy.” you reply, squeezing the tit that has been deprived of your boyfriend’s attention.

“Whatever my baby says.” and with that jungkook slips inside you in one go. You barely get any chance to adjust because he starts moving right away. 

He fucks you slow. His fingers never stop teasing your clit and soon you two reach your climax. He fills you with his cum and you coat his cock with yours. 

“Let’s get cleaned now, hm?” Jungkook places a kiss on your shoulder as he turns on the shower. 

Your back slides down the shower wall. You shake violently as loud sobs leave your throat one after another. 

“You are so cruel, Jungkook. You are so fucking cruel.” you scream. Your throat hurts but your heart hurts even more. 

You should have read the signs. When he kept on talking about Jiwon, aka his new friend from the agency, you should have perceived that shine in his eyes. 

You should have confronted him more when he said he would have a drink with her after his shoot. 

You should have asked his whereabouts when he ignored your calls and texts because he visited her in one of her drama sets. 

You should have done a lot of things but most importantly, you should have loved him a little less and loved yourself a little more. 

Counselee Information: - Name: Jung Sua Age: 7 (seven) Gender: Female (F) Guardian: Jung Hoseok  Relationship with the guardian: Father of the counselee  Reasons behind seeking help:  1. Changes in behavior  2. Quieter and more reserved than before 3. Frequent nightmares  4. Mild panic attacks 

“So, what do you think?” Namjoon questions, leaning on the plush chair, placed at the end of your table. 

“Nothing complicated. You could have handled it yourself. There was absolutely no need of rejecting my vacation applications again and again.” you spat, being very unimpressed with the dimpled smirk on your boss’ face. 

“Oh my god. What’s wrong?” he dramatically leans forward. Placing a hand on his chest, Namjoon continues, “I thought you will be in a better mood after two weeks of work from home. But you seem even more annoyed than before.” 

“For your information, I asked for a damn holiday not work from home aka  prolonged hours of documentation. I really need some time off, Namjoon. I am not kidding.” Your voice sounds so defeated that Namjoon has to sit straight. 

A serious expression takes over his features as he replies, “I know, Y/N. You are definitely not the type to take leaves for fun. But I am helpless here. The client has asked for you personally. He has done his own research and concluded that you can help his daughter better than everyone else in this clinic. I could not do anything.” 

You nod understanding his point of view. 

You are always more than ready to help these little, innocent souls out. It pains you to see these babies experiencing something as horrific as panic attacks. 

But this time you need therapy more than anyone else under your radar. Even though your exterior doesn’t show the unbearable pain your interior is going through, you still need some solace. You are really unwilling to work at this moment and you doubt if you can help anyone else when you are not mentally fit yourself.  

But you hardly have a choice. And maybe, just maybe, you will get a chance of distracting yourself from Jungkook's thoughts. Maybe you will be able to take a breather. Maybe you will heal in the process. Maybe? 

“The appointment is at 11 am, right?” You ask the man sitting right in front of you.

“Yes,” he answers. 

“It’s 10:49 already. Get out and let me prepare myself.” you mutter, closing your eyes and leaning back on your chair. 

“Okay okay. Don’t be so aggressive.” Namjoon chuckles before leaving you alone in the cabin. 

You go through Jung Sua's records once more to verify if there's a health condition you should be aware of. But there isn't anything. 

Just when you close the file, a knock rings on the cabin door. 

You sit straight. Ready to welcome a new friend. 

Yuna, your assistant, knocks once more before pushing the door slowly. She walks in first and then holds the door open for the guests. 

And the cutest seven years old, you have ever seen, walks inside. She's so small that she can be easily mistaken for a five year old. Her chubby cheeks and immaculately done pigtails makes her look like a doll. 

You almost coo at the sight. 

Even though you mostly work with kids, for the past year you were working with only teenagers. It's been long since you had the pleasure to serve yourself for a kid less than ten years old, let alone a seven year one. 

"Hello there, Miss Sua. How are you doing?" You say in a jovial voice, trudging towards the baby. 

Sua tenses a bit and looks behind her, looking for shelter from her father. He stands right behind Sua, offering her to hold one of his hands. Sua takes that readily.

You come forward and sit on your knees to maintain an eye level with your new friend. 

"Don't worry. I'm your new friend. My name is Y/N." You offer her your hand. She hesitates a bit and then looks at her father for confirmation.

You follow her cue and tilt your head up to take a look at the father of your counselee.

Only if you weren't the embodiment of damsel of distress these days, you could very well have a love at first sight. 

The man flaunts a pair of incredibly beautiful yet intimidating eyes, a chiseled jaw that can cut you into pieces, perfectly styled dark hair that falls on his face, and a pair of heart shaped lips which enhances the overall beauty of his face. The fitted dress pants and the black dress shirt give hints of the lithe, well-structured body that lies inside. 

He smiles at you, you do the same. And then you feel a softer, smaller hand wrapping up your fingertips lightly. 

Her cuteness makes you giggle. 

You stand up, taking her hand on yours, you start walking towards a cozier corner of your cabin, where you usually counsel kids. Her father follows you closely behind. 

There's a small and round glass table along with three chairs. One is meant for you and two others are meant for the counselees and their guardians. 

You turn towards Sua’s father. Smiling a little and you say “You need to take the seat first, so that she can be assured it is safe here.” 

“Sure” he replies. His voice is smooth and light, a contrast to his dark and manly features. 

He sits down on the bigger chair and pats on the smaller one, “come on Sua, com ‘ere.” 

Sua leaves your hand and wiggles towards her dad. She easily plops down on her seat. 

“Yuna, can you prepare the game room please?” You ask your assistant.

“Sure, Y/N” She says before closing the door as you get comfortable in your own chair. 

Sua regards you with her big, round doe eyes. She looks at you so intensely as if you have grown two horns in your head. 

You chuckle a bit, “Sua, don’t you like your new friend? Don’t you like me?” 

Sua stays silent. 

“Sua is very friendly. I am sure she will like Y/N very soon. Isn’t it, baby?” Sua’s father chimes in, squeezing one of her little hands with his bigger, rougher ones. 

You are so accustomed to your patients and their guardians to address you as “doctor”, that you had to take a moment after your name rolled out of Mr. Jung’s mouth. 

The change is welcomed anyway. 

You divert your eyes from Sua to him, only to find him smiling at you warmly. You mirror his smile. His smile is so damn gorgeous that you can’t help but feel contaminated with it. 

“Sua, what do you like to play the most?” you focus on Sua again.

“Mario kart” she replies briefly, staring down at her feet. 

“Okay. That's a great game. But what would you like to play outside? For example with your classmates during lunchtime?” You place your next question. 

“My classmates don’t play with me.” She was quick with her answer. 

Your smile drops instantly and you already start mapping out all the possible sources of the issues she is facing. 

Nodding to yourself in understanding, you proceed, “Okay, let’s not talk about games anymore. You tell me what you like more, oranges or mangoes?”

“Mangoes.” she replies. 

“Okay” standing up from your seat, you walk towards your table and call Yuna. She comes within a few seconds. 

You instruct her to take Sua to the game room and treat her to some delicious mango juice. Even though Sua hesitates for a bit, her father’s encouragement works really well. 

As soon as Sua leaves the room, you find yourself quite nervous under the intimidating gaze of Mr. Jung. 

This setting is nothing new. You have been into one-on-one conversations with your counselees’ parents for more times than you can count. But none of them were as young and attractive as Mr. Jung. 

You inhale a long breath before continuing, “so, Mr. Jung, since when did you start noticing these changes in Sua?” 

“Almost a month ago. I can’t pinpoint an exact date but she has gradually become very quiet over this last month. She used to be very chatty. She used to tell me every little thing in detail about her day, her friends, what she had for lunch, what colors she used in drawings and so on. Now-a-days her answers have become vague and insignificant.” Mr. Jung sighs.

“Hmm. and the nightmares?” you ask, scribbling on the ipad. 

“Around the same time. She woke up at 2 in the morning, ran to my room crying and breathing heavily. She didn’t tell me what it was about but kept on saying she was afraid. The same thing happened two more times.” He completes. 

“Umm. The next question might be a little personal but the information is required for future counsellings. I ask for your understanding.” you sit straight. He nods. 

“You said she came running to you when she had nightmares. Hence, I assume you were alone in the room. What about Sua’s mother?” 

“I am a single dad, Doctor. Sua’s mother and I were in a casual relationship when she conceived with Sua unexpectedly. Both of us were just starting our careers so it was tough for us to think of getting married. On the top of that we didn’t like each other enough to proceed with that option. So, we decided to co-parent. But…” he pauses, takes in a long breath and then continues, “she disappeared after giving birth. She left a note behind as an apology, saying that she is not ready to be a mother, asking me not to contact her anymore. My mother and sister helped me in raising Sua so beautifully. They are the only ones to become something close to a mother figure for her. That’s all.” 

You feel something warm flooding in your chest. You don’t know what it is, it can be respect, can be sympathy, can be even admiration for this man who you don’t even know properly. 

A genuine smile takes over your face as you mutter, “You have done a great job Mr. Jung. You have raised a beautiful daughter all by yourself. You have worked hard.” 

Mr, Jung’s dark eyes flood with some emotions you can’t quite name. He stares at you intensely, so much so that you feel he is reading you inside out. You can’t help but stare back at him. 

“Call me Hoseok. So that I can call you by your name too. Is that okay, Y/N?” his voice is deeper than earlier, his smile is lopsided, more like a smirk. 

You find yourself easily smiling along with him, something that has been quite tough for you to do for the past few months. 

“Sure. Hoseok.” Your reply comes out without any further thought.   

Taglist:-

@phenomenalgirl9 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @soraviie @sukunabitch @chimchimmarie @coffeedepressionsoup @meowstake @vonvi-blog @nochuel @xjoonchildx @justmewondering-recs @cuteipat @miakey98 @purpleanchorcrown @chimmisbae @ane102 @junniesoleilkth @terjeonbebas @kookssecret @appleh4ad @kayleeshinee @whoa-jo

[dottedsilktie]

Red Chevy baby

Spring cleaning always gets you emotional, especially when it's time for Toji to try - and fail - to get rid of your beloved old red Chevy. This year, you take a trip down memory lane and Toji takes it as a chance to share a cautionary tale with your son, Megumi.

cw : +18, smut, car sex, swearing and mild degradation, love confessions, breeding kink, piv, unprotected sex, pet names, fluff

Toji is standing in your home’s garage, a hand on his hip, his sharp gaze zeroed in on the old Camaro collecting dust in a dark corner. You watch him from where you’re lounging on the long chair he’s set up for you on the nearby grass. It’s a scene you’re familiar with, one you’ve seen unfold many times before but it still strikes the same bittersweet feeling in you.

He mutters something to himself, now putting both hands on his hips and widening his stance. It almost looks like he’s staring down the car, a silent battle of wits. The old cherry red carcass is the same as ever - impassible, quiet, happy to rest after years of being well-loved. You peer at it over the rim of your sunglasses and it looks like an apparition, specks of muted carmine flashing through a dust haze. What used to be sleek lines, is now worn out and dulled, and somehow more charming than when Toji first bought it. You still remember the first time he’d picked you up in it.

It was his first big splurge : clean money, he’d sworn on his life and when you told him it didn’t mean anything, he doubled down and swore on the brand new pony car. He took you for a test drive in the city, a little self-satisfied smirk on his face the whole ride. Above all, you remember the way his smug smirk grew into a genuine boyish smile when you finally told him how proud he’d made you. It felt like he’d atoned for everything he’d done in his wretched life before you. It was also a tacit promise, one of a better life – a clean one.

He kept true to his words after that and the little Camaro was his witness through it all. In every little scratch to its bumper, there’s a story you reminisce about with misty eyes.

Toji snaps you out of your little daydream, grumbling “I’m getting rid of her for good this time”. He turns to face you with an already wavering determination. You’ve had the same talk countless times before ; his going in the garage for spring cleaning, gauging the car up and threatening to get rid of it, only to come back inside with a defeated air and a mumbled promise to do it some other time.

It’s endearing, the ill-masked sentimentality of it all.

So you play along, sighing and getting up from your chair, strutting to him with a wry smile. “Are you now ?”, you quip with a quirked brow. “Hell yeah I am, it’s just a pile of junk ; why the fuck should we keep it ? Just takes up space”, he grumbles.

The feigned irritation in his voice doesn’t match the softness in his eyes or the sappy upwards twitch of his scarred lip when he stares at the Camaro for a tad too long. You press yourself against him then, your arms encircling his waist, “Or we can just keep it, maybe take it out for a drive some time. You could even repair it, hand it down to Megs !”. You sound hopeful and you feel Toji relax in your hold until you mention Megumi, then he freezes and stares down at you, gaze nothing short of horrified.

“Absolutely not, do you want the fucker to knock up some girl in there ? We both know this car is fucking cursed or something”. He shivers against you and you just laugh. Your effervescent fit of giggles soothes his initial horror, and he lets out a deep laugh of his own.

There’s a beat of silence when you share a knowing grin, both reminiscing on shameless moonlit trysts in the backseat of Toji’s car, when he was still rooming with Shiu and the urge to fuck you got the better of him. It was easier to have you in the ‘privacy’ of his car than to risk having Shiu hear your pretty whimpers of pleasure Toji treasured so much, he reasoned. He was as territorial as they come - still is - so you grew well acquainted with the cool leather seats of the cramped Camaro.

One occurrence stands out, though. At the time you hadn’t seen him in days, away on a job of your own, and when you reunited you were both beyond pent-up. For the first time you were the one begging him for a quick fuck, just something to dull the edge of the sharp want twisting your insides before Shiu was out of Toji’s hair so he could make up for lost time properly.

Toji was quick to agree, driving you in a secluded parking lot. Before he could even turn the engine down, you were lunging towards him, one hand supporting you on the centre console and the other twisting in the fabric of his shirt. You were already a wanton mess, kissing the corner of his scarred lips in a silent plea for more and he was too happy to be desired to deny you, opening his mouth to sloth his tongue against yours. It was messy and sloppy, a cacophony of broken whimpers and the unmistakable rustling of clothes being shed.

He swiftly pulled you on his lap, ridding you of your blouse and kissing his way down to your collarbones. He was a man starved, sucking shamelessly at the sensitive skin above your breasts then trailing wet kisses up the exposed column of your throat, relishing in your little mewls and the fevered drag of your clothed cunt on his growing bulge.

“I missed you so much, pretty girl - fucking hell, I couldn’t stop thinking about you”, he groaned into your skin, deft fingers undoing your bra with practised ease and moving to pull at your pebbled nipples. Even in your lust fuelled high, you could find it in you to be flustered, his words going straight to your untouched clit and making you squirm harder against him.

It should’ve been ridiculous to feel so much from so little, pleasure overpowering the discomfort of the empty belt buckle digging in your knee, the shame of dripping in your underwear just from words and small kisses but you’d never wanted anyone more and you were past hiding it.

You ground your hips harder into him, cupping his face and pulling his mouth away from where he was biting down on your nipple to kiss him fervently, pleading into his mouth, “Toji, more – Fuck, I need you, I missed you too”. He smiled against your kiss, running his hands down your sides then holding your waist in a loose grip, forcing you into a slower, more deliberate rhythm against his leaking cock. “Yeah ? What do you need, baby ? Say it and I’ll give it to you”, he cooed against your lips but before you could answer he was already dragging into another searing open-mouthed kiss, his hold on your waist tightening into a bruising grip. You drank down everything he had to offer, spit running past the corner of your lips, and he was just as eager to taste you.

You wordlessly guided one of his hands down to the hem of your skirt and when his thumb grazed the damp lace of your underwear, you almost let out an airy whimper of his name. You were back to humping his cock straining against his jeans, no real rhythm to your movements, just the urge to feel more, give more then take everything he had to offer.

Toji took care of you though, like he always did : he dug his large fingers into your thigh enough to hurt, slowing you down and making you wince against his lips, then he was pulling your ruined panties to the side and running a finger along your slit. He hissed at the contact and you moaned. “Soaking wet already, my baby’s so eager for me”, he mused to himself, a heady pleasure starting to cloud his senses.

“A couple of days away got your pretty pussy leaking just from a few kisses, poor baby ; want me to make it better, fuck the neediness out of you ?”, he mumbled against your throat, hiding the alarming shade of red flushing his cheeks, relieved that he could conceal his arousal behind yours.

It only heightened your pleasure as you nodded fervently and chased the fingers he used to pinch and pull at your puffy lips, breathlessly asking for “Just one finger, please Toji”.

Your little pleas, so desperate and polite but unmistakably ravenous, made his head swim with pleasure so he stopped his teasing and traced a finger down to your hole, circling it. He swore he could hear the ecstasy in your airy voice when you sunk down on his finger, rocking your hips back and forth and fuck, you were tighter than usual, so much wetter too.

When you’ve been starved for days, every little touch is magnified so you rode his digits like you would his cock - eyes closed and walls spasming, and you were rewarded with another thick finger sinking in you and curling alongside the first. Toji spread them out inside of you and circled your clit in small, measured strokes of his thumb, eager to have more of your slick pouring down his palm, to see your pretty face twist in pleasure while you fucked yourself on his hand. He was obsessed with the idea of you using him to get off, it was exhilarating ; it sent a rush like no other in him, a tingling sensation blooming in his chest followed by a jolt of pleasure in his cock and a heady pride clouding his mind.

“Are you close ?”, he whispered in between sucks to one of your pert nipples. He knew you were, could easily tell from how much you were leaking and shaking around his fingers, but he liked hearing your whiny voice slur out the words anyway. “Y-Yeah, I’m so close Toji, please keep going”, you pleaded, high-pitched and needy. Suddenly, he stopped moving his fingers inside of you and bit down on your nipple, hard. It made you squeak and jolt in his lap, your ruined orgasm paining you more than the mean tug of his teeth around your flesh. “Ask for it" , Toji groaned. "Beg me nicely and I might just let you cum".

You were all too happy to tell just how much you needed him, frenzied pleas bubbling out past your kiss-swollen lips before you could even think, “Please, please I need you; I-I– haven’t even touched myself in days; can’t cum without you anymore”.

It would’ve been pathetic if it didn’t get Toji’s dick impossibly harder, plaguing his mind with images of his darling girl trying to fuck herself to sleep in a dingy hotel room miles away from home, only to relent and let all that pent-up lust fester. He was getting drunk off of your little mewls and your hushed confessions, spurring you on, “Yeah ? You waited to come back to me so I can get you off ? Is that why you begged me to fuck you in the car like a whore ?”.

Because you were easy, his crudeness did it for you and you turned into a babbling mess, confessing to everything ; how you counted the days down until you could see him again, how you’d tried and failed to get yourself off to thoughts of his hands and mouth on you, how badly you needed him. It sent him in a frenzy, the pace of his fingers slamming in your cunt and against that tender spot inside you becoming truly brutal. Toji thought he might cum untouched just from the unmistakable clenching of your cunt around his fingers trying to suck him in and the high keen of his name escaping your rosy lips.

He covered up his own pleasured groans against your tits, mumbling shameless praise that heightened the ebb and flow of your orgasm, telling you just “What a fucking good girl you are, making a mess on me; you’re so beautiful when you cum, I need you to soak my cock like you did my fingers”.

He didn’t waste time reclining his seat and pushing it as far as possible from the steering wheel, taking his already leaking cock out of his trousers and pumping it a few times.

You were out of it, barely lucid after your first orgasm but you were already eyeing his cock with the voracious glint in your eyes that Toji’s became well acquainted with so he had no qualms about pushing you down into his cock even as you hissed and whined. He was courteous enough to let you experimentally roll your hips and get used to the burning stretch, but when you relaxed around him, he grabbed your ass and started guiding you up and down his length at a dizzying pace.

You were a wanton mess all over again, quickly recovering from the remnants of your first orgasm and already chasing the next and Toji just had to wonder how he even had it in him to let you go in the first place.

Every time you left for one of your business trips, he found himself yearning for you more. He craved you all the time and not just for the sex, these days he’s grown content to just do anything or nothing at all with you - running errands, watching movies, playing house at his tiny apartment when Shiu finally fucked off and he realised it only really felt like a home when you were there anyway, so maybe he was getting all sappy or maybe he --

“I love you”, he blurted out without thinking, balls deep inside you and face buried in your tits.

It was barely above a whisper but it was there, soft and weightless, and the air around you shifted under the pressure of things unsaid finally snapping.

You froze above him, pretty doe eyes looking down at him in awe and…relief ? He couldn’t be sure, not when the pale light of tired lampposts barely pierced through the darkness of the small car.

He almost wanted to backpedal, tell you that he didn’t mean it or laugh it off as crazed sex talk but then you were bending down to kiss him and his brain short-circuited.

You were painfully sweet, swollen lips brushing the scar bisecting his mouth and pressing featherlight kisses against his cheeks and jaw. “I love you too”, you whispered in a honeyed voice. It made him swallow around the lump in his throat, engorged cock twitching uncontrollably against your snug walls, and he thought that he could've died a happy man then and there.

He marvelled at how easy it was for you to make him spiral, your hushed confession was like a saccharine high that cut through a lifetime of bitterness, and he had to hear it again, begged you - “Say it again, say it”.

“I love you so much, honey” this time was even better than the first, deliberate and slow, your smile apparent in your voice. He laughed a little with you, breathless and so happy his chuckle threatened to break into a stifled sob. “Honey”, he parroted and you nodded, “Don’t like it ?”.

“I love it, wanna hear more”, he admitted in hushed whisper and you were eager to please him, lifting off your hips and slamming them back down against his with a drawled out moan of the pet name. Then you were the one fucking him, a slow rhythm of your ass slapping his thighs, the lull in between the sound of skin against skin filled with your mewled “I love you”’s.

“Don’t think I can let you go after this”, he mumbled into your chest, painfully honest, arms loosely draped around your waist just to slow you down. You laughed breathlessly against him, reaching a hand to brush inky black hair out of his eyes, “I don’t plan on going anywhere, Toji”.

You rolled your hips harder against him and squeezed around his length, “I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me”.

That’s all the reassurance he needed before he picked up speed again, thrusting his hips up so he could fuck into you and draw more of those happy little sounds he loved so much. He looked at you through half-lidded eyes, drinking in how well you took him and how beautiful you looked, then everything he’s held back spilt out, a diluvian stream of consciousness - confessions of you how long he’s loved you, how he couldn’t bear to be separated from you, how hard he’s tried to get clean just for you.

It had you sobbing against him, his new-found candour and the brutal drag of his veiny cock in your sensitive cunt igniting a white-hot pleasure deep in your belly.

What got you though is his the strain in his voice when he promised to become even better just for you, nonsensical babbles about domestic bliss - “I’ll be so good to you sweetheart, I’ll give my pretty girl anything she needs - fuck, I’ll get you a nice ring and a white picket fence house and – a-aah shit, you’re sucking me in – anything at all, just say the word and it’s yours”.

The suburban dream he painted had you clawing at his shoulders as your orgasm threatened to rush through you. “Just want you, Toji” you slurred out, tender and sincere and it spurred him into fucking you in a mind-numbing high, pumping you full of his cum and kissing you through it and promising, “I’m already yours, sweetheart”.

His orgasm felt never-ending, rope after rope of sticky cum pouring into your fluttering cunt. He smoothed one large hand over your lower stomach, musing absentmindedly, “You’re just so good, letting me fuck you full of cum. You just keep sucking me in like you want it to take, greedy little thing”.

With your sex-high wearing off, you hid your face in his neck, chiding, “Stop saying that”.

“What ? That you like being bred ?”, his thundering laugh cut through the thick silence of the car and you hit his chest to shut him up.

A pleasant quietness settled over you once again and Toji spoke up after a while, “Hey, but what if it works ?”.

“It won’t, I’m on birth control you imbecile”.

“Lose the attitude, I know you are but I’m just sayin' - hypothetically, if you were to get pregnant then…”, he trailed off, bringing one large to brush your hair out of your face, levelling a hesitant gaze at your flushed face. You let a heavy silence hang between you.

“Then ?”

“Then I’ll kick Shiu out to make room for the new brat”.

“Good thing I won’t get pregnant then”.

And surely enough, you did get pregnant (to your mild horror and Toji’s delight) and the only explanation Toji came up with after all those years was that the little Camaro cursed you into being fertile when you shouldn’t have been.

Your intimate reverie and the quiet of the late afternoon are disturbed as a chipper pair of boys runs to you on the yard, tufts of pink and black hair obstructing your view when the pair jumps in your arms. Megumi and his friend-turned-brother Yuuji are eager to tell you about their day but their attention is quickly diverted from you as they catch a glimpse of the old red car in the garage.

Before they can make a run for it and inspect it, Toji grabs them both by the collar and lifts them up, scowling menacingly at Megumi, “Now listen boy, if there’s one rule you need to follow under my roof, it’s to never get near that car - it’s cursed, you hear me?”. Megumi looks quizzically at his father, then at you, and finally nods before scurrying inside the house with his friend. You laugh at Toji, hugging him again, “So intimidating, don’t want the kid to know where he came from ?”. “Shut up, I’m just not ready to be a grandpa”, he retorts, flicking your forehead then kissing it better.

You think the old Camaro still has some good days ahead of it though, because like he’s done countless times before, Toji ends up covering the car again and vowing to get rid of it some other time.

Thanks for reading ! Any comments/reblogs are greatly appreciated

[lazyjellyfish300]

One Cabin🌳🪵🍃

Miguel O'Hara x AFAB Spider-Woman Reader

TW: Suggestive, nudity, tension, minors DNI, enemies to lovers. Word count: 425

A/N: sorry y'all. I wanna be stuck in a cabin with Miguel lol 🫣. Inspired by that fountain scene from Atonement.

Continued...

------

Thinking about being forced to share a small cabin with Miguel on a mission, much to both of your dismay. The anomaly you're hunting is out in the remote wilderness. Hundreds of thousands of acres of trees, grass, and mountainous terrain. The land owner is allowing you two to stay on his vast property in the ranch hands' cabin located wayyy on the outskirts near a creek, shielded by tall trees on all sides. There are two bedrooms that connect through a sliding barn door.

So, you come to an agreement.

You stay on your side, I stay on mine.

Don't touch each other's food.

Don't take forever in the single bathroom.

Quiet starts at 7 pm. (Miguel’s idea),

and this mission will be over before we know it.

But then little things start to happen that make it really hard to stay focused on keeping to yourselves. One afternoon when you were standing in the creek, trying to cool off, head tilted back enjoying the sun, he quietly came and stood next to you in the water. You look at him, annoyed at having your alone time interrupted, telling him to watch his footing, there's sharp rocks in the stream bed near where he's standing, to which he bluntly replies that his vision is perfectly fine.

It leads to small bickering, then you kick up some water at him with a little splash. Astonished, he leans over and splashes you back. Soon you're splashing each other, screaming and giggling like kids, until you both fall down together in the creek, getting completely soaked. Then, when he's sputtering and apologizing to help you back up, his breath hitches when he sees the white flowy sundress you're wearing is completely see through, the soaked fabric leaving nothing to the imagination, your nipples, breasts, tummy, and sex deliciously and erotically outlined, shielded only by the sopping wet fabric.

You don't have to look down at yourself to tell, the way his lips gently part, the breath he was taking has frozen in his chest as it seems as though time itself stopped, eyes roaming all over you. Your lips mirror his, falling a little bit open, eyes melting as you lock onto him, just now realizing how alluring he looks when he's looking at you like you're the most exquisite being on earth.

You snap out of it, walking quickly into the cabin in flustered silence as he sighs, clenching his fist until his knuckles turn white, creek waters continuing to trickle down the rocks in yearning quiet.

-----

🏞️

[izurou]

⋆ .˚ 𖤐 – ft. SHIDOU RYUSEI ⋮ contains: f! reader. fem receiving oral sex. spitting. brief penetration. a lil creampie bc i can’t not add one. he gets into a fight so violence ig but not much at all

at first glance, ryusei doesn’t look like a threat.

he’s all pink dye and accessories, with a thin black choker sitting pretty on his throat, and a matching headband pushing back the two ombré strands that usually frame his face.

glance number two, and alright—maybe there’s more to him than meets the eye.

his hands are shoved in his pockets, but the veins that seemingly start at each wrist and taper off into his toned arms are blatant, and they’re not a comforting sight. the black tank top he’s wearing is all but glued to him, showcasing his lean build, and hm—he actually does look pretty strong.

but—the most unsettling thing about him has to be his smile. there’s something rather inhuman about it—maybe it’s the simple fact that it even exists at a time like this, after he’s heard a crude comment about you, his precious girlfriend.

the third glance is the last—a wide eyed, bloody nosed stare given by those who’ve just learned that the brunt of his strength resides not in his punch, but his kick.

and then, you have to take your threat home.

⋆

“so much for behaving yourself tonight, huh ryu?” you haphazardly toss your phone onto your bed—watching as the device bounces a couple times before settling near his hand.

ryusei is sitting on the edge of the mattress, leaning back on his palms and watching you.

“aww, c’mon babydoll, i did,” he insists—putting on a little faux pout as he coaxes you over to him through some unseen force. “he’s alive, isn’t he?”

yes, he let the asshole off with a warning at most. doesn’t he deserve a little praise for holding back?

“how sweet of you,” you mutter sarcastically.

he thinks you’re cute when you get like this—attitude off the charts because he went and made a scene again, and oh—he’s going to get himself hurt, is he? whatever. he doesn’t care, and he’s going to do as he pleases regardless.

though he’ll always, always let you have the same freedom with him to atone for it.

“what, you gonna punish me or somethin’?” he tongues at his cheek—blinking up at you through long blond lashes. “i won’t resist, angel face.”

an amused puff of air leaves your nose—because you know damn well that the words punish me lose all meaning the second they’re in his mouth. you don’t think there’s anything you could do that wouldn’t turn him on in one way or another.

even so, there’s no harm in having a little fun with him—right?

⋆

maybe not. he’s definitely a handful—bombarding you with lewd comments, and greedily pawing at your hips as you attempt to shimmy out of your tight clothing. but you persist, and now here you are—straddling his thighs in nothing but a pair of light pink panties, material so thin, so sheer—you might as well be wearing nothing.

“just gonna sit there and look pretty, babydoll?” he teases—grabbing onto your wrist and guiding your hand over the bulge in his unzipped pants. “i’d still cum, y’know. you’re that sexy, baby.”

“yeah,” you mumble, ignoring his latter comment. “something like that.”

you rub him through the fabric of his boxers a bit before tugging the material down altogether—just enough to free his visibly excited cock, which you ignore completely.

instead, you lift your hips up and over where he’s burning with red hot desire, repositioning yourself on his upper chest momentarily. there, you brush away the little baby hairs that have escaped from his headband, waiting for him to connect the dots and realize that yes, you will be sitting somewhere looking pretty—but it won’t be back there.

“fuck yeah baby, c’mere.” he bucks his hips at the sight of your cunt—taunting him from behind the pretty pink lace. how fucking annoying, he’s just about ready to—

“rip them and i’ll kill you.”

oh, you’re really speaking his language now.

“have it your way,” he hums in a singsong voice—sticking his tongue out and leaning forward to lick a smug stripe up the centre of the fabric.

you respond by corralling his hands and pinning them above his head with one of your own—matching his arrogance as you purr, “i will.”

gosh, he loves this—much more than he should.

using your free hand, you pull your panties off to the side, and he doesn’t hold back the groan that rips from his throat, because fuck, you’re so wet—glistening with a pretty little glaze of your own arousal, practically begging to be feasted on.

“c’mon, fuckin’ sit on my face baby, lemme taste that sweet cunt,” he urges—hips bucking up into nothing once again. “shit, i’m not gonna last.”

slowly, you start to move yourself toward his face—and quickly, his primal urge seizes control and sends him lurching forward, meeting you halfway as he dives tongue first into your heavenly pussy.

and you think to yourself—shit, me neither.

because, much like everything else he does, he eats you out with a fervour second to none—with an appetite so large, a hunger so utterly insatiable—a lifetime in between your legs would still have him asking for seconds. he sucks your clit into his mouth, and nearly unhinges his jaw as he dips his tongue down between your folds—wanting all of you, all at once. he does it over and over and over again—a true gnawing motion, paired with loud slurps and smacks of your messy cunt.

mere minutes pass—and while you’re busy falling apart atop his face, he looks calm beneath you—humming in content as something, either his own spit, or you—trails down the sides of his mouth.

“ryu, oh fuck,” you hiss, gritting your teeth as you resist the selfish urge to grind yourself down onto his face.

“mmmm, you’re sweet baby,” he pulls away in an attempt to catch his breath—tongue running over his shiny lips. “but you don’t taste like me. maybe i’m not fuckin’ you enough.”

his feast continues seconds after the last syllable leaves his mouth—he rolls and twists his tongue over your clit, shakes his head side to side a little, and you feel your body start to give out. as a result, you’re forced to release him from your grip as you latch onto the headboard for support.

“just let me cum ryu, please,” you whine.

and oh how is heart swells, you’re just so cute—rolling your hips against his tongue, using him to get yourself off—all while you gracefully accept defeat. adorable. he loves you so, so much.

a series of grunts rumble from his chest, vibrating against your mess of a pussy, and you know those sounds all too well—vision blurring as you realize what’s happening. you know you’re going to cum as soon as you look, but you do anyways.

peering over your shoulder, you watch through hooded lids as ryusei’s cock twitches, leaking his sticky white cum onto his pelvis.

your boyfriend—the same guy who handed out a broken nose just before this, is cumming for you, because of you, and you barely had to touch him.

and there you go, squeezing your eyes shut as your own orgasm consumes you—hips stuttering as your pussy pulses on his tongue. you sound so pretty, panting and gasping out his name—all he can do is hold you in place and help you ride out your high—pulling back only after he’s ensured you have nothing left.

“some pussy you’ve got there, baby,” he laughs breathily and pats the side of your thigh—letting you know he wants you to move. “made a real mess outta me, huh?”

“i hate you,” you mutter—swinging a leg over him and sinking back against your pillows. did he even really deserve to enjoy that? “i’m not having sex with you for the next week.”

he grins amusedly at you, tugging his now ruined tank top over his head, and ridding himself of his pants shortly after. is he deaf?

“whatever you say,” he absentmindedly agrees—coming back and hovering above your figure. he grabs your jaw, and runs his thumb over your lips.

“ryusei.”

“shhhh, open up,” he orders, and you don’t know what point you’re trying to prove anymore, if any at all, but you do just that—you part your lips and stick your tongue out. with your gaze piercing his skull, he spits—a little glob of saliva that clings to his tongue before settling on yours. “what do you taste, babydoll?”

you close your mouth and swallow—telling him what he wants to hear.

“me.”

“aw, isn’t that sweet?” he purrs—leaning down to press a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to your lips.

and you almost don’t notice him easing the head of his cock into you, though it’s hard to ignore the sultry moan he lets out when he buries himself to the hilt—cock hypersensitive, and fully capable of filling you up right then and there.

“hey, i know you heard me,” you mutter, slipping two fingers beneath the tight band of his choker—making it even tighter.

“shit,” he pants—hips jerking as he effortlessly cums for a second time. “yeah, i heard you angel face. i’m gettin’ my week’s worth now, don’t want this pussy forgettin’ about me.”

[gerrystamour]

you're in the walls that i made with crosses and frames [gift fic]

Explicit★Steddie★7600 words★Complete

Happy birthday @legitcookie !! I hope it was a lovely one!! And yes, wee collab with @sentient-trash with the art!! ;p Summary: The expression on Eddie’s face was smug, his chest puffing up proudly under Steve’s hungry stare as he reached him. “Careful, Harrington, you’re gonna start catching flies,” Eddie spat venomously as he brushed past, his studded shoulder catching Steve’s arm and almost knocking him off balance. Steve’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he looked away. Honestly, he deserved Eddie’s coldness… Tags & CWs: Break-up, getting back together, semi-public sex, blatant scene theft from Atonement minus the angst, hurt/comfort, love confessions, anal sex, barebacking, Creampie No Condom Nation, top steve harrington, bottom eddie munson

[ READ ON AO3 ]

The sounds of the gala fell away as Steve reached the top of the stairs and rounded the corner he saw Eddie disappear around. The other man was moving fast, already at the end of the hall and turning at the next corner. It was dark upstairs, the wall sconces turned on but kept low, and the live music from downstairs was barely audible through the formidable soundproofing. All Steve could hear as he quickened his steps was the jingling of the chains that adorned Eddie’s outfit.

It had been overwhelming seeing Eddie walk in with his band earlier that evening, in more ways than just the deep-seated ache in Steve’s chest.

Steve had been trying to distract himself without getting hammered while he watched the entrance, forcibly taking his time with the glass of wine Robin had grabbed for him.

“Maybe he won’t show,” Steve said hopefully as the first hour of the gala passed.

“You know he’d never pass up the chance to make your dad shit his pants,” she said blandly, and Steve looked down at her skeptically. She shrugged, raising her eyebrows. “What? Maybe I haven’t actually met ‘im yet, but I think that’s a fair guess.”

“Robin! I need your help!” Vickie materialized out of the crowd next to them, reaching out to touch Robin’s wrist gently. Steve watched with no small amount of amusement as Robin blushed lightly and immediately followed after Vickie, not even waiting to hear the crisis.

Once he was standing alone, he made a point to look around at the other guests, trying not to watch the entrance like a hawk.

It was a charity gala, something that was mostly for Steve’s father to save face after his campaign accepted a donation from an organization with concerning ties to a white supremacist group. John Harrington’s PR team had been insistent that he arrange an event, inviting the spokespeople of a handful of charities that had been trending positively on social media recently.

All but one charity declined the invitation. The only one that accepted the invitation was a charity for homeless queer youths, which Steve knew to be connected to Corroded Coffin. For them to accept the invitation meant that Eddie was absolutely going to be showing up, and he was going to be making a statement.

Despite preparing himself for the moment he saw Eddie again ever since Corroded Coffin returned their RSVP with a giant yes, Steve was still nearly brought to his knees at the sight of him.

At first, Steve didn’t even realize they had arrived, successfully distracting himself with people-watching while some friend of his father’s chattered at him. It was only when the man stumbled over his words and stared over Steve’s shoulder at the entrance that he turned to look.

The first thing Steve noticed was that all four of them were wearing their battle vests or jackets; loud garments adorned with patches, pins, and spikes. Except these particular garments had political statements on them more than they were decked out in band patches. And of course, Eddie’s leather battle jacket was the loudest out of the four with several patches condemning white supremacy, all surrounded by a sea of shiny spikes.

The man practically glittered as he stepped into the light of the foyer.

It wasn’t just the jacket that had enough metal on it to catch the light but there appeared to be several chains adorning his outfit underneath—no, not an outfit, the dress. Eddie actually showed up to Republican Congressman John Harrington’s charity gala in a dress, and Steve had never been more in love with him than he was right that second.

But that was the problem, though—Steve being in love with Eddie.

The voices of the mingling ambassadors, politicians, and investors hushed as more people took notice of the newest arrivals, their expressions sour, some even angry, though it wasn’t lost on Steve the way some of their eyes lingered on the four of them just a bit too long to be strictly disdainful.

From Steve’s vantage point, he could tell that Eddie’s dress was pretty simple except for the chains with a wide neckline that rested at his collarbones, but it looked like there were two slits following each leg and ended quite high on his pelvis. Those had Steve desperate to see Eddie walking with his full stride, to see how the skirt moved around his legs and showed them off. At that distance, Eddie didn’t look too much taller, so Steve was sure he wasn’t wearing heels, but he still had gorgeous legs with tattoos covering almost every inch of his skin. Already, Steve was formulating a plan to get closer to Eddie, wanting to see that dress up close, to see Eddie in that dress up close.

Returning his attention to Eddie’s face, his breath was taken away at how fierce his expression was, the way it was accentuated by the make-up he was wearing—it was his concert make-up, if a bit dialed back since it wasn’t for an arena to be able to see but a slightly more intimate affair. Their current tour had a lot of Satanic overtones to it, so the look was dark, very smoky and gave Eddie’s brow a permanent sort of scowl. Of course, Eddie’s curly mane of dark hair was left down, wild around his face and shoulders and Steve hated that he knew how it would feel to bury his hands in it.

It was then that Eddie’s eyes met his from across the room and a sneer twisted his features. It was pathetic just how much that condescending look did for Steve.

“Carry on, gentlemen,” Eddie addressed the gawking bystanders nearest to them before he began crossing the room in Steve’s direction, granting his wish of seeing that dress move around his legs, and good God, Steve was not prepared for this like he thought he’d be.

Yes, Steve had always been obsessed with the rockstar’s legs, the way they were thicker than one might expect, strong and covered in tattoos. Except all that was visible of Eddie’s legs were his thighs, since he was wearing a pair of knee-socks under his clunky combat boots. The dichotomy of the battle jacket, the dress, and the boots was captivating. It was impossible to look away from the man, even if Steve was worried about how he would react being so close to Eddie again for the first time in weeks.

As Eddie got closer, a flash of red somewhere in Eddie’s outfit caught Steve’s attention and he nearly choked on his tongue. Through the slits in the skirt, Steve could catch a glimpse of whatever underwear Eddie was wearing and Christ, he was pretty sure he saw something red and lacy. Another thing that Steve was able to tell now that Eddie was closer was that the chains on the dress were not actually part of the dress, but attached to a leather harness he was wearing over the dress.

It was one of the harnesses Steve had seen him wear lots of times in the past, though that was often with a lot less clothing and in the dim lighting of the bathroom at a gay club.

The expression on Eddie’s face was smug, his chest puffing up proudly under Steve’s hungry stare as he reached him.

“Careful, Harrington, you’re gonna start catching flies,” Eddie spat venomously as he brushed past, his studded shoulder catching Steve’s arm and almost knocking him off balance.

Steve’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he looked away. Honestly, he deserved Eddie’s coldness.

The last time they saw each other, it was yet another hurried, desperate hook-up. They were sprawled out on the couch in the green room after Eddie’s show in Seattle, the rest of the band already on their way back to their apartments. Eddie was practically naked, since he really only wore a pair of tight, black jeans while performing while Steve was still wearing his entire outfit. Nimble, grasping hands had managed to unbutton Steve’s shirt enough to get to his collarbones, and Eddie made a delighted little sound as he wiggled where he sat on Steve’s cock.

“What?” Steve chuckled breathlessly, tipping his head back as Eddie stooped to kiss and nibble the spot just beneath his collarbone.

“Nothin’,” Eddie crooned as he began to bounce, sighing as he said, “Just my favourite freckle. Looks a little like a heart.”

The comment shot through Steve, and he almost choked on it, the way his heart clenched and how badly he wanted what they had to be more than just casual fucks in back rooms, public toilets, and occasionally the backseat of a limo. It wasn’t a surprise to Steve to realize that he was actually in love with Eddie—hell, he flew out there just to see the rockstar because he knew it was Eddie’s birthday last week.

As they panted for breath, Steve had considered asking Eddie about the comment he made, about the possibility for more. But looking around the room, eyes landing on the battle jacket, and he couldn’t help but remember the way they started this.

It started with something that could only be called hate-sex. Sex that was mean and punishing, that left them both bruised and limping most of the time. The first time they hooked up, Eddie had shoved Steve to his knees so hard he’d needed to wear his old knee brace for a couple weeks.

“Shut the fuck up and put that mouth to good use for once in your life, Harrington.”

Eddie never hesitated to rant about Steve’s father, which was understandable. He felt like he hated his father for the same reasons, too. But there was that knowledge that Eddie hated his father, and John hated Eddie just as much, and—fuck, they were both too famous to keep a relationship secret. They were already pushing it with their little arrangement as it was. Steve was already trying to figure out how he would get out of there without being recognized.

And ultimately, it wasn’t even about Steve’s father, but everything John stood for and his voters, his following. It would be dangerous for Eddie to be with Steve, and even if the rockstar wanted to take that risk on—and he knew Eddie wouldn’t—Steve wouldn’t ask that of him. And mostly, pathetically, Steve just didn’t want the man to fucking laugh at him for catching feelings. Christ, he’d had enough of that to last him a lifetime.

“You have a hotel room?” Eddie asked, still catching his breath as he lifted himself shakily out of Steve’s lap with a grimace. Getting off the couch, he crossed the small room to start turning his pants the right way out.

“Nah, I was gonna fly back out to D.C. on the first flight out and that’s in, like, four hours. Just had to sign some things at our firm here,” Steve fibbed as he watched his cum drip down Eddie’s thigh.

“What are you going to do for four hours?” Eddie snorted, looking over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow before pulling his pants back on.

“There’s a lounge at the airport for me to relax in,” Steve replied easily as he tucked his cock back into his boxer briefs and did his fly back up.

Eddie snorted. “You could crash at my apartment if you’re too stingy to spring for a hotel room,” he said with a derisive eye roll, and Steve’s chest squeezed with want.

With a haughty sigh, Steve stood up and fixed his hair in the mirror. “I actually meant to say something before you threw yourself at me,” he said blandly, and Eddie scoffed. Steve met his eyes in the mirror, and to his dismay the rockstar was grinning in a very real way, his dimples deep and easily visible from outer space.

“Oh, so I threw myself at you, did I? The ego—” Eddie started, and Steve looked back at himself in the mirror.

“I think it’s time we stopped this,” he interrupted, and the silence that filled the room was suffocating.

“What?” Eddie asked, his entire tone changing as his voice raised in disbelief. Steve hated to hear the laughter leaving Eddie’s voice, and he loathed himself for being the one to chase it away.

But he wasn’t strong enough to keep this going when he wanted more, wanted too much.

Steve rolled his eyes with a feigned aloofness, knowing Eddie could see the motion in the mirror. “I said,” he explained slowly, as if he was talking to a child, “that I think it’s time we stopped this.”

“Why?” Eddie demanded, and Steve refused to even glance at him in the mirror again, knowing he would crumble the second he did.

“It’s time I actually settled down, started a family. Plan my future,” Steve replied, bringing back his Trust Fund Baby persona that Eddie hated so much at the start of all this.

There’s another short silence. “You’ve… found someone already?” Eddie asked, his tone almost mocking.

“Maybe,” Steve said easily. It wasn’t a complete lie; he did find someone he wanted to settle down with, it just couldn’t happen. “Can’t really pursue that with you sending me dick pics daily,” he added, voice flat and condescending.

“As if I am ever the first one to send jackshit, Harrington,” Eddie snapped viciously, and only then did Steve look at him. The man was furious, eyes wild with his anger and Steve deserved all of it. If Steve was braver, he would face the ridicule for his honesty rather than hide behind the persona curated for his father. Despite the casual nature of their relationship, Eddie deserved better than being lied to.

Then Eddie’s mouth twisted in a sneer as he said, “What the fuck ever. I hope your miserable ever after with whatever bland, good little Christian girl daddy dearest picked out for you is fucking worth it.”

As if realizing he was still naked for all of that—Jesus, Steve really knew how to make a break-up hurt, if it could even be called a break-up—Eddie hurriedly began pulling his pants back on. Steve looked away, letting Eddie get dressed in some semblance of privacy after embarrassing him as much as he had.

When Eddie was done getting dressed, Steve finally looked at him as he paused at the door of the green room.

“I’ll text you and let you know if the coast is clear,” Eddie said coldly, and Steve’s heart ached at how the other man was still going to help keep this a secret. “After that? Forget my number. If I ever see you at one of my shows again, I’ll kick your teeth in.”

That was the last thing Eddie said to him, and then weeks later they were forced to spend an entire evening in relatively close proximity. Well, Steve was forced by virtue of being a Harrington with a campaigning father; Eddie legitimately chose to come, which was definitely deliberate considering the dress, the harness, and the lingerie. Even the make-up was on purpose, since that was what Eddie had been wearing that night in Seattle.

Steve kept his distance as much as he could, even if he couldn’t keep his eyes off of Eddie, watching him make his way through the crowd, being his charismatic self despite his entire get-up. He and his band were the guests of honour that evening, after all. Watching Eddie constantly, though, meant that he was caught doing so, and every time their eyes met, Eddie would scowl darkly at him.

As the night progressed, Eddie’s anger and disdain began to wear on Steve. He felt stupid and selfish for being annoyed, especially with the way he ended things, but really? All of this anger and hatred just for being dumped by a high-risk booty call?

“You okay?” Robin asked as she appeared beside Steve, tangling her fingers in his and giving his hand a squeeze.

With a huge, relieved sigh, Steve pulled her into a loose hug. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… it’s a lot seeing him again,” Steve admitted, just loud enough for her to hear.

Robin hummed. “I ran into him earlier, by the way,” she said after a moment, and at that, Steve pulled back without letting go of her completely.

“Did he say anything to you?” Steve asked and Robin shook her head.

“Not really, asked if I was your fiancée, I was like, ‘according to the tabloids’ and then he looked at me like he wanted me dead,” she replied, raising her eyebrows up at Steve. “You sure he only wanted casual?”

“Of course, he did, Robs,” Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Why would he want more with me of all people?”

Robin just looked up at Steve sadly before she stepped away from him. “You okay if I go grab us a couple drinks?” she asked, deciding in a rare move to let something drop.

“Yeah, Robs, thanks,” he said, meaning more than just the drinks and nodding as she turned to walk away.

When Steve looked back across the room toward Eddie, the man was staring at him, and his expression was wrong. It wasn’t the glare Steve had grown used to over the evening, but he was too far away for Steve to even try to read it. Jolting a bit, as if shocked or burned as he realized Steve was looking at him, Eddie said something to his bandmates before turning on his heel and heading up the staircase.

Before Steve even realized it, he was making his way carefully through the crowd, dodging questions and greetings thrown his way until he reached the stairs.

“Steven, speeches are in twenty minutes,” John warned him as he passed.

Without even glancing at his father, Steve waved over his shoulder and took the stairs two at a time.

Now, as he turned the corner after Eddie, Steve paused near the only open doorway. It was the study, which had a massive built-in bookshelf filled with books Steve was fairly certain no one had ever actually read. There was a light on inside and Steve could hear Eddie muttering. Was Eddie meeting someone else up here? Was Steve about to hear Eddie fucking someone else? That thought filled Steve’s veins with ice, that some creep who was schmoozing downstairs and sneering at Eddie less than five minutes ago would be touching him.

No one at this gala deserved to touch him like that.

Again, Steve reacted before he even realized, storming into the study ready to fight if he had to, just to stop short when he realized that Eddie was alone. Not only was he alone, but he looked close to tears, eyes wide and glassy, his eyelashes shiny with them.

“Eds?” Steve finally managed after several long moments of staring at each other. Eddie sucked in a harsh breath, blinking rapidly as he flinched back, and a tear fell down his cheek.

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie snapped, shaking his head and wiping the tear away. “Fuck you.”

“What—why are you crying?” Steve asked, but he didn’t have to. Steve might have been slow on the uptake, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Because you’re happy. I saw all the stupid magazines, and all the bullshit clickbait, and I was so fucking sure you were miserable,” Eddie laughed bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest. He was an imposing figure, even with the tears in his eyes, clothed in leather and metal, almost his entire body hidden under his armor.

As if reading his thoughts, Eddie opened his arms and gestured down at himself. “I wore this just to—I wanted you to be miserable so fucking much, and that you’d see me and feel even fucking worse,” Eddie bit out through clenched teeth, dropping his hands and staring up at the high ceiling.

Steve stepped closer to Eddie and the rockstar shuffled backward, keeping the same distance between them. “I know I ended things badly, Eddie—”

“See, that’s just it, Steve, you didn’t ‘end things badly,’” Eddie practically snarled with exaggerated scare quotes, storming right up into Steve’s space. “You made me feel like you actually wanted me and then you fucking ripped my heart out. You fucking ruined me, and you just left me and you’re happy. You wanted to settle down, and you’re going to get that, when all I wanted was for you to choose me. Why couldn’t you settle down with me?”

Steve stared at Eddie, wide-eyed and holding his breath, the full realization of how much he fucked up in Seattle crashing down on him. He could feel his own eyes stinging, his vision blurring. Steve could’ve had exactly what he wanted all those months ago if he was just braver, and now it appeared he blew it completely. Something softened at the corners of Eddie’s eyes, even if his mouth stayed set in a severe line.

As the silence persisted between them, Eddie tipped his chin up almost defiantly. “Anything to say? At all?” he asked, condescension clear in his voice, but there was something desperate underneath it, something painfully earnest. Something so close to begging, it hurt Steve’s heart to hear it.

And Steve wanted to say that he was sorry, that he should never have done that, that he was a coward and that he would do anything for a chance to go back and stop himself.

“Do you hate me?” Steve asked finally, and he internally grimaced at how childish that question sounded. It seemed to catch Eddie off-guard as well, his wet eyes widening slightly before he laughed hollowly.

“Jesus H Christ, I wish I did,” Eddie said, and his expression was so deeply sad that Steve wanted to just gather him into his arms. “This would be easier if I hated you.”

“I don’t want you to hate me, Eddie, I don’t—I’m not happy,” Steve confessed breathlessly, blinking rapidly as more tears formed, and one fell down his cheek. “I’ve been as miserable as you wanted me to be. I never stopped wanting you. I wanted so much, and I thought it was too much to ask, so I ended things.”

Eddie’s face twisted into something so full of anger that Steve considered stepping out of swinging range, but Eddie just glared at him. “You didn’t even ask me—”

“No, I didn’t. Because what did I have that you’d want? I’m the closeted queer son of a Republican Congressman and you’re… you,” Steve said, his tone far more reverent than he intended as he gestured to all of him. “You’re free, and loud. Proud of who you are and so fucking brave, Eds. You’re an inspiration to so many, and I just—why would you want me?”

Eddie was looking at him with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open as all of his righteous, hurt fury left him. Then Eddie shook his head gently and looked at Steve with an expression that was so unbearably soft, he had to fight to not shy away from it.

“You still want that?” Eddie asked, his voice quiet, nearly a whisper. “Too much?”

“Yes, Eds, I want everything,” Steve breathed, taking a step toward Eddie and lifting a hand to tentatively cup his cheek. This time, Eddie didn’t dodge him or move away, and Steve sighed in relief. “I do want you, to settle down with you. I’ve always wanted you.”

Tipping his chin up in that defiant little nod of his, Eddie took a deep breath through his nose. Steve jolted when cool fingers wrapped around his other wrist and guided his hand to wrap around Eddie’s hip. “Prove it, big boy,” he challenged, his voice low as he tilted his cheek into Steve’s hand.

The hand on Eddie’s cheek immediately shifted until it was tangled into his hair, tilting his head back as Steve crowded him backward against the bookshelf. They hit the shelf with more force than Steve intended, but Eddie only arched his body against Steve harder, eyes wide as he looked up at him. The quiet stretched between them, and Steve stooped as if to kiss the beautiful man in his arms, but he hesitated, still so unsure despite all of Eddie’s confessions.

But then the ghost of a smile, a real one with dimples, twitched the corners of Eddie’s mouth up as he looked at Steve’s lips. When those impossibly dark eyes met his again, Steve was almost too distracted to notice Eddie’s small nod. As Steve leaned down, his lips hovering just above Eddie’s, he savoured the quiet, breathless moment before everything changed again.

In the next breath, their lips were sliding together, gentle and slow, testing the waters as their tongues met in the middle. Sliding his arm around Eddie’s waist, Steve splayed his broad palm and long fingers across his back before grabbing one of the straps of the leather harness. Pulling Eddie in tighter, Steve groaned as he deepened the kiss, licking into the rockstar’s mouth as they clung to each other and rocked their hips together.

Steve pulled back, panting heavily against Eddie’s lips as both of his hands began wandering. “Should we be doing this?” Steve asked, rocking his hardening cock against Eddie’s hip.

“Probably not,” Eddie admitted with a laugh before dragging Steve back into a kiss by his hair. Steve went willingly, sighing as he slipped his hands under Eddie’s dress through the slits, reaching around to grab two handfuls of his perfect ass.

“We should talk,” Steve added, shuddering when his head was pulled back by his hair so Eddie could kiss and bite at his throat.

“We definitely should,” Eddie agreed before lifting his head to meet Steve’s eyes. “And we will, just—please.”

It was the ‘please’ that broke the last of Steve’s restraint. It was the softness of it, the way Eddie’s voice cracked around it, the nearly fearful look in Eddie’s eyes, as if he expected this moment to end just as abruptly as it started. When Eddie said please like that, Steve couldn’t deny him anything.

“Yeah, okay, baby,” Steve breathed, kneading the mostly bare skin of Eddie’s ass before frowning. Squeezing his cheeks again, Steve asked, “Are you wearing assless panties?”

Eddie bit his lips as he smirked mischievously and shrugged. “Technically, I think it’s a jockstrap, but lacy,” he admitted, his face darkening with his blush at the admission.

Groaning thickly, Steve groped his handfuls roughly. “Oh fuck, I have to see this,” he moaned, but when he pulled back and moved to lift the front of the dress, Eddie grabbed his wrists.

“You first,” Eddie whispered against his mouth before kissing him again, and Steve nodded quickly as he returned the kiss sloppily.

Lifting both hands to the shelf on either side of Eddie’s shoulders, Steve waited as patiently as he could, kissing Eddie hungrily as deft fingers undid his belt and fly. When Eddie began shoving his pants and briefs down his thighs, Steve took the hint and toed off his shoes so he could kick his legs free of the garments.

“The coat—lose it,” Eddie demanded, and Steve didn’t hesitate to obey. He removed his blazer clumsily before throwing it vaguely in the direction of the nearby desk. By the time Steve’s hands returned to the shelf, Eddie was fumbling with unbuttoning his shirt. With a grunt, Eddie snapped, “Oh, fuck this.”

Without so much as a pause, Eddie gripped Steve’s shirt on either side of the buttons and yanked, popping every single button off and sending them clattering across the floor. It was hot, leaving Steve breathless with how desperately hungry he was for Eddie. It barely even occurred to Steve that he should be concerned about his shirt being ruined, about how he would return to the gala downstairs without the buttons. When Eddie pressed his hands to Steve’s chest he whined and pushed him back a bit.

“Oh, what the fuck, of course you’re wearing an undershirt,” Eddie complained as he looked down at Steve, his jaw promptly snapping shut with a hard swallow.

Steve felt a bit silly standing there with his cock out in his socks and undershirt, the dress shirt still hanging from his shoulders. He must look ridiculous, especially with the damp patch of sweat on his chest and stomach.

“It’s not fair that you’re somehow hotter when you aren’t even naked,” Eddie grumbled, treating himself to a slow, nearly ravenous look at Steve’s body. His eyes lingered on Steve’s legs, his expression almost pained as he asked, “Steve, are those garter belts for your fucking socks?”

Steve jolted and looked down, shrugging as he looked at the bands around his shins, just below his knees. “Yeah?” he responded, and he hated how lame his response sounded.

“Why?” Eddie asked explosively, and Steve smirked at him as he caught on.

Stepping into Eddie’s space again, Steve slipped a finger under one of the suspenders running down the length of his thigh, pulling it away from his skin a bit. “I think I’m wearing them for the same reason as you, right?” he said teasingly, pressing Eddie back into the bookshelf once again as he released the strap, letting it snap lightly against Eddie’s skin. “To keep your socks up?”

Eddie groaned thickly, arching against Steve desperately. “No, you asshole, I wore mine to drive you in-fucking-sane,” he admitted as he smoothed his hands up Steve’s stomach and onto his chest, thumbing his nipples teasingly through the fabric of his undershirt. When Steve jolted, Eddie let out a breathy chuckle and swept his hands back down to slowly, torturously, push it up past Steve’s chest.

“Well, mission accomplished, I guess,” Steve sighed through another groan as Eddie’s hands resumed playing with his nipples. Groaning, Steve stooped and crushed their lips together, his hands finding their way back under Eddie’s dress to grope his ass again.

“Can you take off your battle jacket, Eds?” he asked breathlessly when he pulled away, and Eddie hesitated, slowly opening his eyes to search Steve’s face. After a moment, Eddie nodded once and reached into a pocket to pull out a chain of condoms and a packet of lube before shrugging the jacket off and tossing it onto the desk nearby.

The sight of Eddie’s shoulders beneath the jacket was captivating; Steve hadn’t realized that the neckline of the dress was so wide he’d have a mostly unobstructed view of Eddie’s shoulders and throat. The only thing that interrupted the pale expanse aside from a couple visible tattoos was the collar of the harness. The sleeves of the dress were long and fit snugly all the way from shoulder to wrist, the dark, stretchy material accentuating the lithe muscle underneath. With a steadying breath, Steve turned his attention to the items Eddie had removed from his pocket, and he couldn’t help the way his eyebrows shot up.

At Steve’s expression, Eddie rolled his eyes and dropped the lube and condoms on the shelf above his shoulder, his cheeks actually turning pink under his gaze. “Don’t look at me like that. Yes, I came prepared to get fucked tonight, and yes, before you ask, I hoped it would be you,” he grumbled in a rush, pulling Steve back against him and tilting his mouth up for a kiss and Steve couldn’t deny him even if he wanted to.

Everything else fell away as their lips moved against each other, desperate and frantic, their teeth clacking together until they found their rhythm with each other again. Pulling away from Eddie’s mouth, Steve kissed his way down his cheek and the thick column of his neck, kissing and biting until the pale skin was littered with marks before moving to give the same treatment to Eddie’s shoulders.

Steve would have spent the rest of the evening like that, just kissing and biting until Eddie was so thoroughly marked that neither of them could pretend this was just another meaningless hook-up. Just like Steve had never been completely naked in front of Eddie, they had also successfully refrained from giving each other hickeys, from marking each other up and raising questions.

“Steve, please,” Eddie whined, and Steve sighed at the plaintive cry, rocking his hard cock against Eddie’s. “Fuck, Steve, enough teasing, we don’t have all night.”

Lifting his head, Steve recaptured Eddie’s lips, moaning against him as they ground their cocks together, the only thing separating them being the layers of Eddie’s dress and jockstrap. Fuck, Steve wanted to see him in just the jockstrap, but Eddie was right; they didn’t have all night.

Sliding one hand down the back of Eddie’s thigh, Steve hooked his hand under his knee and lifted his foot off of the ground, directing him to hook the clunky heel of his boot over one of the lower rungs of the ladder next to them. One of Eddie’s hands flew up to hold onto the ladder as well, lifting himself up just enough to wrap his other leg around Steve’s waist. It was frenzied as they made out and rutted against each other like that, moaning filthily into each other’s mouths.

Reaching down between them, Steve quickly pulled the front section of the dress out of the way, tossing the fabric over Eddie’s leg before looking down at the lace jockstrap. The sound that left him at the sight of the sheer fabric straining around the bulge of Eddie’s hard cock would have been embarrassing if Steve had the capacity to care about anything beyond fucking Eddie. There was a shiny, wet spot on the red lace at the tip of Eddie’s cock that Steve desperately wanted to taste, to wrap his lips around the head through the fabric and suck and lap at the precum that formed there.

Groaning, Steve shifted one of his hands on Eddie’s ass, slipping his fingers deeper and froze as his fingertips found the flared base of a plug. The thought of Eddie walking around the entire night with a plug in his ass was something Steve would be revisiting in his dreams repeatedly, he was sure.

“Jesus, Eds,” Steve practically growled against Eddie’s mouth, hooking his fingers under the flare and tugging at the toy, just to hear Eddie whimper. “You’ve actually been wearing this all night?”

“Already told you, was ready to be fucked,” Eddie gasped, his eyelids fluttering as Steve pulled on the plug a bit more deliberately until it popped free of his hole. Steve happily swallowed the cry that spilled from Eddie’s throat, groaning as he pressed two fingers into his twitching, slick hole. The sound that ripped from Eddie was wounded, high and reedy and nearly sad, and Eddie dropped his head back against bookshelf. “Please, Stevie, don’t be a fucking tease.”

“Okay, okay, I’ve got you, baby,” Steve breathed, and when he tried to put some space between them to put a condom on, Eddie’s leg tightened around his waist. “I can’t put the condom on like this.”

“Forget the condom, just fuck me,” Eddie demanded, and Steve chuckled sadly.

There was a time when they could just do that because despite the allegedly casual nature of their relationship, they were both exclusively sleeping with each other. At the time, they both explained it away as being too busy and too famous to mess around with more people. In hindsight, it was all stupidly obvious they were both in it far deeper than they were willing to admit. Steve hadn’t been able to get back out in the scene since the split-up in Seattle—hell, he hadn’t even been looking for anything when Eddie had fallen into his lap the first time either, months ago at a different charity event, at the start of his father’s campaign. But Steve couldn’t expect Eddie to have stayed celibate, too.

“Eds, we haven’t—” Steve started, and Eddie looked him directly in the eye.

“I haven’t fucked anyone since our Seattle show,” he said meaningfully, his gaze unwavering. “Have you been tested?”

Steve let out a soft, sad sound, faced again with how badly he hurt Eddie, how poorly he read the entire situation. He’d truly done a number on Eddie, and Steve thanked whatever higher power that was listening for his second chance.

“Haven’t been with anyone since Seattle either,” Steve said, leaning forward to kiss Eddie’s lips sweetly.

Eddie scoffed at that and turned his face away, but Steve could tell he was grinning behind his hair. Grabbing the lube, Steve tried to pull back again so he could slick his cock up properly, but Eddie was still clinging to him too tightly.

“C’mon, Eds, just let me get my cock nice and slick, then you’ll have me, okay?” Steve sighed against Eddie’s ear, living for the way the man shuddered and moaned.

When his leg loosened enough for Steve to rock back, he poured a liberal amount of lube over his cock. Before Steve could finish putting the lube back on the shelf, one of Eddie’s cool hands wrapped around his cock. The moan that was punched out of him was deep and guttural, the sensation of a partner—of Eddie touching him again, fingers of a guitarist and clunky rings driving Steve wild.

Before Steve could really register it, he was fucking Eddie’s tight fist, pressing breathless, open-mouthed kisses against the sharp line of his jaw and groaning. Distantly, Steve could feel the touch changing, that Eddie wasn’t squeezing him as tightly, and then the head of his cock was nudging just behind Eddie’s sac, sliding further back and catching on the rim of his hole. On one pass, his cock slipped inside, just the tip, and Eddie dragged him closer with his leg around Steve’s waist.

Eddie’s cry as he was filled, hard and fast, was loud in the quiet of the study and Steve struggled to hold still, groaning thickly at the tight, perfect heat around him. Part of him wanted to take, the way he knew Eddie loved it, the way they would always have it before. But this was different, Steve knew that just on principle, but there was a certain charge to the air that brought tears to his eyes. Steve would wait a thousand years before moving if Eddie asked him to.

A cool hand cupped Steve’s cheek, smearing lube across his stubbled jaw and lifting his gaze to meet Eddie’s again.

Eddie’s eyes were shiny and bright in the dimly lit room, tears collecting on his lower lashes and so close to falling, his kiss-bitten, red lips hanging open and panting.

“Stevie,” Eddie breathed, the corners of his mouth ticking upward in something close to a smile, even as the next fluttering blink had the tears barely clinging to his lashes falling down his cheeks.

And Steve was helpless, staring up at the beautiful man in his arms, and he had to blink his own tears away as they blurred his vision. “Eds,” he said, not even bothering to hide just how awed and overwhelmed he was to have Eddie like this again. Steve made a promise to himself that he would make up for every single day he made this man feel unwanted, unworthy, unloved.

As if hearing his thoughts, Eddie sobbed and dropped his hand to Steve’s shoulder, pushing his undershirt aside to brush his thumb over a spot just below his collarbone—Eddie’s favourite freckle, the one that looked like a heart. 

“I love you, Stevie,” Eddie whimpered after a few moments of breathless staring, lowering his lips to hover over Steve’s.

“I love you, Eds,” Steve gasped immediately, breathless with the intensity of his feelings, and closed the distance between their lips.

They slotted together perfectly, Steve buried to the hilt inside him, their mouths moving languidly against each other while Eddie adjusted. After what felt like only a few seconds, Eddie lifted himself as much as he could before dropping back down on Steve’s cock with another cry.

It was as if a dam broke. The pace was frantic, fast, brutal even with Steve’s desperation and Eddie’s willing body, the sounds of bare skin slapping together filling the study and likely perfectly audible from the hallway if anyone wandered in this direction.

“Steve, Stevie, fu—fuck, Stevie, so good,” Eddie sobbed brokenly against Steve’s lips, not even pulling back to try and get a hand between them to touch himself. “Already so close, been so close all night. Please, Stevie, give it to me.”

“Gonna, baby, promise,” Steve gasped, and when Eddie’s hand flew up to hold onto a higher shelf, he reached up to tangle their fingers together. “Gonna give you everything you want, forever, never letting you go without ever again.”

Eddie sobbed and nodded furiously. “Damn right you a—ah, fuck, you are,” Eddie whimpered, readjusting his grip on the ladder to meet Steve’s thrusts, sweet little sounds getting punched out of him with every snap of their hips. “Never getting rid of me.”

“Perfect,” Steve grunted, the coil in his gut pulling taut as his release barreled forward. He could feel the way Eddie was clenching around him, knew he was barely hanging on, trying to outlast Steve.

“I’m your—oh! Your problem now,” Eddie added, throwing his head back with a shuddery cry as Steve changed the angle of his thrusts a bit.

“I’m yours, too,” Steve sighed almost dreamily as he thought about it, of a future together, maybe living out in Seattle in the eccentric little apartment Steve had only seen snapshots of in the various selfies Eddie had sent him. Of growing old together. Tears stung Steve’s eyes, which he tried to blink away again but there were too many. “I’m your problem, too,” he repeated weakly, his movements growing erratic as his release boiled in his gut.

“Yeah, yes, Stevie! Mine, you’re mine, mine,” Eddie keened, pulling his hand away from Steve’s so he could hold his cheek, wiping the tears from Steve’s cheek. “Say it, Stevie. What are you?”

“Yours,” Steve breathed, eyes rolling back as he willed his release back.

Eddie’s brief composure shattered, and he let out a loud whimper. “And what am I, Stevie?”

“Mine,” Steve answered immediately and angled his cock just so, driving the head of it directly over Eddie’s prostate and sending him tumbling over the edge with a surprisingly quiet cry considering how noisy he had been. Though Steve wasn’t looking, he could tell Eddie made a mess of them already, could feel the hot spend through the lace against his lower abdomen. 

The tight heat of Eddie’s core spasming and clenching around Steve’s cock was the last straw. Steve only managed a few more sloppy thrusts before he was coming, hips flush against Eddie’s ass and spilling his cum deep inside him.

They clung to each other while they caught their breath for what felt like hours, kissing each other slow and sweet, practically chaste after everything else they had done together. Eventually, Eddie pulled away, tipping his head back to look down at Steve, biting his lip and grinning.

“Can you say it again?” Eddie asked after a bit, his voice shaking nervously.

Steve grinned up at Eddie, lifting a hand to cup his cheek gently. “I’m yours, you’re mine,” he sighed dreamily. “I love you, Eddie Munson.”

“Jesus, I’m not gonna survive this,” Eddie half-laughed, half-sobbed as tears filled his eyes all over again. “I love you, Steve Harrington.”

It was that moment when they heard a gasp from the doorway of the study, and Steve froze. Eddie held onto him, not letting him pull away, but also not letting him turn around.

“Take a picture. It’ll last longer, sweetheart,” Eddie sneered, and whoever it was just squeaked and quickly retreated from the room.

Steve took a slow breath in through his nose. “Who was that?” he asked slowly, watching Eddie’s face closely as he grimaced.

“Listen, I’ve met her only twice, and both times I was distracted by you—”

“It was my dad’s assistant, wasn’t it?” Steve asked flatly and Eddie cringed.

“Yep,” Eddie confirmed, chewing his lip nervously.

Steve sighed, and nodded, and he was thankful there was an event happening downstairs because that was the only reason John wasn’t already storming into the room.

“What’re we gonna do?” Eddie asked, and Steve smiled up at him, willing his nerves away.

“Let’s go back to my place. Get you all cleaned up, maybe make love to you in a bed for once? Perhaps wake up next to you in the morning?” Steve suggested, grinning broader as Eddie flushed and turned his face away.

“I meant right now, Steve,” Eddie said, shifting where he was still pinned against the bookshelf.

“Yeah, so did I,” Steve said, his expression softening. “Seriously, Eds, let’s go back to my place.”

“You’re just—You’re okay going down there? With your dipshit dad probably knowing about us?” Eddie asked incredulously, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Yep. No time like the present to get disowned, right?” Steve said, and even if he worded it like a joke, he was dead serious. Eddie seemed to believe Steve this time, and a smile split his face.

“As if your piece of shit dad won’t figure out a way to spin this for his campaign,” Eddie teased and lowered his mouth to Steve’s for a slow, contented kiss. When Eddie pulled back, he grinned mischievously. “You should wear my coat out, and I’ll wear yours.”

Steve’s eyes lit up and he nodded quickly. “You’re a genius, Eds,” he sighed, leaning up to recapture Eddie’s lips.

[ READ ON AO3 ]

[lilacpaperbird]

If Supernatural had been set in Spain, baby would've been a Dodge 3700 gt

John would've been a former legionario (and he'd have the legion slogan "novio de la muerte" tattooed). Dean would've smoked since he was 15 (he would've rolled his own cigs of course) and he'd have an eyebrow piercing. Sam would've carried around a (stolen) copy of García Lorca's poetry and estampas de santos (pics of saints) hidden in his wallet

Also the religious themes and imagery would've been catholic, which means way more dramatic (and aesthetic). Mary as the Virgin Mary would've been a recurring parallel. Sam would've prayed the rosary for atonement or protection. The concept of penance would've pervaded everything.

There would've been more than one episode about Franco and the dictatorship (fun fact John would've been 21 when it ended wow). Also, knowing how Spanish tv works, we would've gotten many nude shots and sex scenes. Oh and several beach episodes (because Spain has lots of beaches but mainly because it's another excuse to show them semi-naked)

We would've gotten more gay characters since Spain was more accepting at the time (same sex marriage was legalized in 2005). And Sam and Dean's weird dynamic would've fit fine with other famous incestuous sibling couples of Spanish tv from the early 00s lmao (I can think of at least THREE beloved canon couples between step-siblings (not related by blood tho) from different shows of that time. Yeah crazy I know)

[thealogie]

I will say this for Andrew Scott. Not only is he one of the greatest actors alive he also has these specific talents no one else has. I don’t know that there is any other actor on the planet who could do a one person sex scene that’s basically a reenactment of the library sex scene from atonement (which amounts to basically jumping a wall complete with the sexy hand gripping) and not look even slightly silly doing it

[ladykailitha]

Buckle up, there is a topic I want to rant about today. A few days ago this came across my dash and it reminded me of someone I knew from high school.

There was this kid at my high school everyone thought was a douche. He was good looking, popular, could sing, dance and play an instrument (I think it was guitar, but I don't remember it's been 20 years). He was getting lead roles in the plays as a sophomore (we didn't have freshman in our high schools out here in hick Utah where the running joke has always been we're behind the times by at 20-40 years), he got duck classes because he was getting acting jobs while in school.

We'll call him MH because those were his initials.

He was in my biology class and our science teacher had four groups of four debate creationism vs evolution (you shouldn't debate established fact but whatever). Two groups would be for creation and the other two would be for evolution.

I picked creation because I was a contrary child and wanted to debate the opposite of my actual views. (I was like thatTM) He picked evolution.

We got up and gave our arguments. Now our teacher wasn't a stupid man, stupid assignment aside. He knew his classes. He knew teenagers. He gave them two voting slips. One for who liked the best. Popularity wise. And the other for who gave the best arguments.

Now for some added context, this is Utah. Mormonville. Creation is basically hardwired into our psyche from birth. The chances of EVOLUTION winning was as likely as a pig sprouting wings.

But I was not well liked in high school, I was an epileptic, ADHD, anxiety riddled nerd. So MH's team got the votes for both the best argument and the most popular, because fuck me that's why. (And yeah, this sounds like my anxiety talking, but no these little shits told me that to my face.)

I can't remember how long exactly it was. Long enough that I got over it, but fresh enough I knew what he was talking about. But shortly after this shit show we have a fire drill. It was cold, it was miserable and I was ready to start cussing for the warmth.

MH comes up to me and the two friends I was with and tells me "Hey, I think it was crap that you lost. Your team had the better argument and was better articulated. I just wanted to let you know." And then melted back into the crowd of students.

I didn't think he knew what my name was, if I'm honest. But he came up to me and told me that I should have won. Even my friends were shocked. Now of course I was bitter about losing, because how could I not be? But the fact that the hottest guy in school came up to me and said that? I felt vindicated.

From that day on though? I was a staunch MH supporter. I was tell people that he was probably shy and very busy (you know with the whole acting jobs thing).

TL;DR: high school douche goes out of his way to tell me that I should won the on merit side of a stupid debate and I find out not a douche after all.

So why do I bring this up? Because of Steve Harrington. He has literally everyone saying he was an ass in high school. That he has to atone. But other than some instances where it was absolutely warranted we never really see Steve be a douche. Just typical teenager shit. And every time he does something "bad" he apologizes for it.

But all his friends are still giving him shit about it three years later. But not Jonathan who was an actual fucking criminal. Like he didn't have develop the sex pictures if he was looking for evidence of the thing that took his brother. I've developed film. The negative, while small gives you a pretty good indication of what would develop.

And yeah Nancy forgave him, but no one asked Steve if he forgave him. Because he was in those pictures, too. Steve was just as violated as Nancy was. And if the scene we see is any indication, Steve was probably more predominately featured than Nancy was, because he was on top. Meaning he would have covered her most of the time.

So no, I don't think Steve was a bully. No, I don't think he has anything to atone for that he hasn't already atoned for in fucking spades. I think he was always that same lovable dork he always was and Nancy had nothing to do with his "hero arc". But I have my own thoughts about Nancy that are way too long for this already massive dash stretcher.

/rant end

[sweetainwen]

ᴍᴀʟᴇᴅɪᴄᴛᴜᴍ [JJK]

Summary: trying to break free from a witch's curse was daunting, especially if it was a charade that would last until he had her to himself, but nothing was left unpunished by the rampage of a true walking curse, for every sin had to be atoned for.

Pairings: yandere duke witch hunter!Jungkook x fem!witch hunter?OC (you can think of her as Y/N)

Genre: made up world!au, supernatural!au, witch!au, yandere!au, smut

Disclaimer: this story is fictional, so each character is not as described in it.

Warnings: slight age gap (Jungkook 22 OC 26), obsession, manipulation, violence, blood, supernatural themes, burning at stake, major character death, murders, unprotected sex, fingering

Word count: 7.2+k

A/N: happy Halloween!

Tragic was life, bringing with it unexpected events that no one could prevent. The injustice of this filled hearts with sadness and helplessness, eyes that wanted to express them with tears but it was now useless.

Like her now gazing at the coffin of her third and brave husband being buried, passed away shortly after their wedding. People around her paying their condolences for the ill-fated event.

But she knew, knew how fear and judgments were hidden beneath them. She knew of the derogatory epithet that had been hung on her.

Their voices were loud, their looks piercing, their gestures blatant.

“She doesn't even shed a tear.”

“I wonder how it happened this time.”

“What a curse.”

The abyss dragged her down, shrouding her with its darkness.

However, his gentle hands brought her back up, firm and decisive, cutting that black thread that twisted overbearingly and undisturbed around her body.

As soon as she looked up, Jungkook’s tender smile calmed the turmoil that was taking over her, a hand squeezing her shoulder in comfort while the other was outstretched towards her.

“Let's get going, Minji. The air is getting very cold.”

She returned his smile with a more faint one and a slight nod of her head, resting her hand on his and letting him guide her out of the graveyard and to their carriage.

Her desire was only to marry and live happily, an accomplishment of almost every woman. She coveted that love as special as it was magical, for she had been deprived of it from an early age.

However, something prevented her from doing so.

The death of her first husband had been considered an accident, but that of her second husband a suspicion, and that of her third a confirmation.

Harbinger of misfortune, one glance was enough to cloud the poor unfortunate man's rationality, who acted rashly with a marriage proposal.

Whereupon those who fell victim to her beauty were cursed and perished.

The cursed woman.

That was what she was called by the townspeople, for there was a witch's hand in all these nefarious events.

A certainty due to the trails of magic found at the murder scene of her third husband.

“I am truly dismayed that you have been involved in this reprisal, my dear. We should have foreseen such an action.” The middle-aged man's sad voice reached her ears after they entered their mansion, being helped by the maids in freeing themselves of their coats.

“Do not blame yourself for this, my dear cousin,” she reassured, her palm brushing against his arm. “We are aware of who is really guilty. And I am confident that we will be able to find them, given our hunting abilities. The witches will not be able to escape for long.” Her hand rested gently on the cheek of the younger man beside her, whose doe-like eyes looked at her with concern and affection, before a sigh escaped her lips, “Now if you will excuse me, I shall retire to my chamber. I... need to be alone for a moment.”

The two men watched her as she made her way to the stairs, lifting her dress with her hands to prevent it from getting in the way of her steps, until she disappeared from their sight and they heard the door open and close.

The oldest cursed in a low voice, gritting his teeth, “Damn witches! If I could I would kill them all in one shot!” His gaze fell upon Jungkook, whose lips were pressed together. “Do everything to track down who it is.”

“Yes, father.”

“Just focus on hunting down these bastards, I will take care of the other family business.”

Jungkook nodded and before he began his task, his eyes drifted to the spot where his cousin had disappeared, and a sigh came out, his heart tightened with anguish at the memory of her worn-out appearance.

The fierce fury against her was personal, dictated by revenge in wanting to afflict of the same pain of losing comrades to the witch hunters.

What better way than to have a member of the Jeon, main duchy of the witch hunters' organization, as a victim?

And they had achieved their goal, with Minji pressing her lips together and tightening her grip on the reins of her horse at yet another shake of the head by one of their best hunters, Jin.

She could well hear the taunting giggles of those beings echoing through the forest even though they were concealed from their eyes, driving her frustration and anger almost to the edge. She was getting weary of the whole situation. And if she had to resort to different help, she would, even though she was reluctant.

She exhaled, "We will continue tomorrow. Going any further now will not yield any success. We will try another method."

Jungkook had not looked away from her for a second until he saw her pull the reins to turn around, followed by their second-best hunter, Namjoon.

"I knew they would curse us someday, but not that they would only come after one person,” Taehyung’s voice, another hunter, and the sound of the hooves of his horse on the ground to his left caught his attention, “They seem quite interested in your father’s cousin.”

Jungkook's gaze ended on her again, a knowing smile on his face, “They should never play with fire. It will burn them to death.”

Despite saying those words, hoping they would be heard by the tormentors, they were not getting their way, for the following days were a continuous search for them without success. And the one who suffered the most was Minji.

The frustration that was being shown on her face was not at all concealed, even if she tried to not let it get under her skin.

Her eyes that were slowly losing their vitality worried the most, for it was they that most captured people, that captured him as the first time he had seen her.

“This is Jeon Minji, a distant cousin of mine. She will stay here with us from now on. This is my son, Jeon Jungkook.”

He saw her get up from the sofa in their drawing room, walking in front of him.

The meeting was unexpected, since he had never heard of this cousin.

She curtsied, a smile tugging at her lips before stretching out her gloved hand, "Pleased to meet you, Lord Jungkook."

His hand moved on its own, taking hers and lightly placing his lips on her knuckles, “The pleasure is mine, Lady Minji.”

And the never-breaking eye contact allowed him to notice a gleam in her eyes that dazzled him.

That feeling had grown over time and did not appear to fade. It was as if he was enchanted and subjugated.

Like now as she watched the moon and stars, standing in the garden, the moonbeams over her figure making her ethereal and almost mystical.

“Can’t seem to sleep?” he asked, pulling a blanket over her shoulders to protect her from the chilling night.

She sighed, “Who would?”

“Would you like me to sing you a lullaby and stroke your hair?” he joked, a half-smile making its appearance.

She pressed her lips together to keep herself from laughing, the back of her hand lightly smacking his clothed chest.

He feigned hurt, pouty lips and knitted eyebrows, clutching the injured part.

“You big jester! It’s too late for that. I am no longer a child, but you have my gratitude.”

“Honored to be your jester, my lady.” A slight bow followed the last words, taking a small chuckle out of her.

A pleasant silence greeted them.

After the death of her first husband, their meetings had increased to be as close to her as possible and offer her all his support.

The more time they spent together, the more curiosity, affection, and attraction worked its way into him.

Her trust in him had improved so much that she was even able to tell him how her family had been exterminated by witches in an ambush.

She was the only survivor of part of his father's family.

There were many members of the Jeon family, but she had never been heard of except before that misfortune happened, in which news of an illegitimate daughter spread fast and unstoppable.

She was still a Jeon, it was a duty and right to help her.

“Worry moves your actions,” she spoke. Now face to face, Minji moved as many steps as it took to have their chests brushing against each other, “but you need not worry.” A tender smile graced her lips, her fingers caressing his cheek. “Despair will never cling to me, because I have you.”

A flutter came at those words and a pleasant warmth embraced his heart.

And he wrapped his arms around her waist, feeling her body heat through their fabrics of clothing.

"After losing everything, you and your father are really the only people I have left. My family."

He sighed, a glint of sadness in his gaze, “However, we are not enough for you.” Her features softened more, her heart throbbing restlessly at his reaction. “I am aware of the difference, yet you acted hastily. I know you want to get married, how you would like to create that family you could not have, but you did not even know them.”

“I would have as time went on.”

“It doesn't imply loving them.”

She did not argue back, mindful of the truthfulness of his words. Not all marriages had that happy ending. There were many different endings that could be reached. She knew that, but if she was held back by all these ifs and buts, she would only live in fear and paranoia.

The loss of that comforting warmth on one of her hips awakened her from her thoughts, finding it now on her cheek, his thumb gently stroking the skin of it.

“For that reason, you should look closer to you. And your eyes will see that the right person is precisely the one on whom expectations were nil.“

Silence fell. His eyes wanting to convey without more words what he wanted to say, and when they reached their destination, Minji almost lost her breath.

“I love you.”

She was completely taken aback, so much so that she could not find the right words.

Heart racing, thoughts jumbling together. She was happy.

She beamed and covered her mouth with one hand to hide it from the eyes of the young man, who, however, noticed it immediately.

And she decided to answer his silent question.

“This is outrageously embarrassing,” a little ashamed chuckle left her lips, “I… had a desire to get married so that I could forget what I felt, since… I believed that you could never reciprocate my feelings.” She began to speak swiftly, “I am aware that throwing myself into the arms of those men without having any knowledge of them was wrong, but I was sure it was the best solution to avoid a possible unintended consequence of my unrequited lo-“

Voraciously her lips were assailed by his, moving them gently and slowly, savoring and devouring with ardor that first impulsive kiss of theirs.

His fingers brushing her cheeks, her hands on his hips for support.

Pulling a short distance away, their eyes met, chests going up and down.

“You were totally in the wrong. Because I love you and long for you as if you are my breath. Marry me.”

“Your father-“

“Oh, my father would gladly approve of our union,” he chuckled. “His confession about me being the best husband for a woman like you was quite telling.”

She blinked in surprise, “Did he really say such a thing?”

“He says many things that are to your advantage, my dear.” He pecked her lips, making her smile. “We will find that witch and get married. I promise you.”

She nodded, her arms circling his waist and her head resting on his chest. He pulled her close to him, his chin on her head and a victorious, sly smile adorning his face.

Happiness was overtaking him.

Who would have expected such a turn of events? It was an opportunity he would not waste.

However, if he had realized it earlier, she would have been his before those bastards interfered with marriage proposals.

Resorting to this charade had been worth it anyway; he had been wanting to get rid of the worthless scums who had immediately ogled her shortly after her arrival for too long.

Witches were the enemy of humans. Evil beings who deceived you with their human guise. For that reason, the Jeon household became witch hunters for the salvation of humanity.

Making use of the grimoires taken from those beings, they succeeded in creating tools that allowed protection against them, to trap and execute them.

Even if they still existed after centuries, the Jeons would still fight. And Jungkook, now, was the successor to that duchy.

So, no one would notice that a human was to blame for those incidents if you tainted the crime scene with evidence against witches. Least of all Jeon Jungkook himself, the witch hunter.

“What’s the meaning of this?!” the young man on the ground shrieked in a strangled voice, the rope net that had opened from the ball attached to an arrow shot from a crossbow blocking his movements with electric shocks.

They had invaded his house, turning it upside down in search of something he didn’t know about.

His own friends were treaking him like a criminal, like a witch.

“They are here!” a hunter notified from one of the rooms.

Quick steps on the wooden floor before his gaze ended on Jungkook and Minji, the latter holding a grimoire and a voodoo doll, features distorted by betrayal and disappointment like the rest of those present there.

With glassy eyes and his heart pounding, he began to shake his head, “They're not mine! I could never!” Minji’s lips were quivering. “Lady Minji, believe me! I’m not a witch! Please!”

“Take him.”

It was the last thing he heard from Jungkook before he was dragged ruthlessly out of his own house toward his last breath, screaming and trying to wriggle out even against that net-like trap that thwarted him with pain.

His pleas would go unheard and the answer to his question about the reason for this dogged and unfair framing against him never given.

Loss of sanity and restraint was there when it concerned witches, and the Jeon's young successor was aware of this.

Finding someone as a scapegoat was not difficult either, finding someone else who had allowed himself to look at her more than he could as the culprit of the curse, fitting in manufactured evidence, had been easy.

If he had known his place, he would not have ended up at the stake, undergoing pain and pleading he was not a witch.

The shock the townsfolk had experienced in knowing that Jung Hoseok, such a kind and shy young man who had just moved from afar, had actually turned out to be one of those monsters had been severe.

For Minji, who had welcomed him gently to put him at ease and had even grown attached to him like a sister, it had been another loss.

She still recalled how he lowered his timid gaze and played with his fingers while talking, the selflessness he showed if someone needed some help, and the small smile of when he was asked or considered in conversations and jokes.

And as she and the others watched the flames that had now devoured him and left only a burned body, she wondered who she might or might not trust around her.

“My love…” his soft, gentle voice and his fingers intertwining with hers as a sign of comfort led her to look at Jungkook, “This view destroys our hearts, but you’re free now.” She flashed him a half-smile and was immediately engulfed in a hug. “I’m here. All is well. You’re safe.”

She held him close, the feeling of safety and warmth embracing her once again, “You are right. I have you. My soon-to-be husband.”

Ah, how he loved those words.

He was at the mercy of this victorious enthusiasm.

It seemed to him to be an illusion well devised by a witch for how much he still could not believe that he would finally make her his for eternity.

The fear of losing her had been swept away by the knowledge that he had her in his grasp.

She could not escape; he would not allow it.

She would have no reason to, either, for nothing connected the situation they had gone through with him.

Their lives would run smoothly. They would have children, see them grow up, and would tell them and their grandchildren about how magnificent their wedding day had been.

That white dress had made her look like a goddess come down to earth to tempt a man and enchant him for life with sweet words, gentle caresses and breathtaking smiles.

He had not resisted and with vows of love and a kiss, they had sealed that long-awaited union.

Her gasp of surprise and giggle when he had taken her in his arms had stirred his heartstrings into more chords of love and devotion.

And it shone through his eyes that did not leave Minji's for a moment as he removed the veil from her hair and then caressed one of her cheek.

“I still cannot believe that you are here, as my wife.”

She leaned her face into his hand, on which she placed her own, “Believe it. For I will be here with you until death do us part.”

Without another word, Jungkook pressed his mouth to hers harshly.

Her hand gripped the back of his neck, pulling him closer towards her. His hands quickly made their way around her waist and she could feel her breasts brush tightly against his chest as he continued to deepen their kiss and led her back towards the bed.

Both crawling up onto the middle, her back resting now on the mattress, Jungkook’s mouth continued to work against her own, his kisses becoming desperate, her fingers running through his dark locks. He groaned against her, lips finding the skin of her neck and trailing kisses up and down slowly.

She arched her back and spread her legs, his hips now comfortably against hers and the feeling of his hard bulge in his pants against her obvious. His hands lifted the skirts of her dress, fingers trailing on her skin light enough to send sparks and goosebumps down her body.

But a sense of stiffening was detected by Jungkook, leading him to break their lips apart to give her a questioning gaze.

“What is it, my dearest?”

A tint of red colored her cheeks in embarrassment and shyness, head lowering and hands tightening around the fabric of his clothing.

She was so adorable that he wanted to tease her.

“I… It won’t hurt again, will it? My former husbands had not been very… gentle. I’m afraid I…”

Silence fell in the room, but the rage lurking in Jungkook did not stop growing after those words.

They had been fortunate enough to have such a delicate and special flower in their arms and had instead decided to fill with pain and sadness that important bond between spouses.

Ungrateful pieces of shit.

A soft smile tugged at his lips, “Look at me.” She did. “I would never hurt you, in any way. I love you too much to commit such obnoxious actions.”

A slight nod of approval from her was all he needed to kiss her again, his hands shoving her dress up to expose her bare skin before trailing his fingers over her thighs and rubbing against her sensitive spot over her undergarments. She let out a soft gasp, goosebumps all over her body.

Taking advantage of this, his tongue swept in between her lips, playing with her own.

She gripped his hair as he tore her undergarments off, helping him kicking them off with her legs and hands. Pulling away again, her dress was next, pulling it up and leaving her completely bare under his gaze.

Lust filling their eyes and patience vanishing, he undressed himself quickly of his wedding suit, leaving his hardened dick on display.

Minji couldn’t help but look at him, almost losing her breath at how handsome he was. That hungry, dazed gaze made Jungkook completely insane.

She was looking at him.

Loving him.

A surprise gasp left her lips as one of his fingers slipped inside of her slowly, body hot and labored breaths.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered breathlessly, drinking in her beautiful face contorted with pleasure.

Leaning over, he bit down on her shoulder as he worked his finger inside of her, a moaning escaping from her.

“I’m gonna make you feel good,” he said in a dark voice, another finger starting to slowly push inside of her. “Make you feel how much I yearn to make you mine.”

She shut her eyes, his hot breath fanning over her neck, overwhelmed by his movements and hot body against hers.

His thumb pressed against her clit, sending more shivers down her spine as her hands gripped his hair and her back arched, hips rocking up toward his fingers.

“Jungkook-“

A breathless chuckle was his reply, “You’re so wet. You’re clenching so much.”

“Please- I’m-“

“Want to come right now? Or you want my cock to fuck your pussy? Mmh? Would you like that? Look at you, so ready to get fucked up.”

His vulgar words made her whimper more, his fingers bringing her close to her own release.

“Please, fuck me up, fuck me-“

The loss of his fingers made her grunt in disappointment, but a gasp of surprise left her lips as soon as she felt his cock pushing into her slowly.

He grabbed her wrists and brought them over the sheets, near her face, intertwining her fingers with his shortly after and kept rolling his hips back and forth as he was now buried deep inside her.

She looked at him, eyes half-lidded and everything around her disappeared.

She could only hear his fast breaths and see drops of sweat falling undisturbed along his temples, neck, chest.

His arms muscles flexing as they supported the weight of his body, eyes watching her with a glint of pure and primitive ecstasy

He was shuddering above her, showing how much she was making him feel fucking good. Bare. Hers.

A shift in his movements caused something inside of her to sent shots of electricity through her limbs and whimper in pleasure.

“You’re so good. Taking me so well.”

Pulling back from her body and then slamming into her roughly, it almost made her cry out in bliss.

Her legs hugged his hips, pulling him deeper inside her.

Clenching around his cock, she flashed him a lustful smile and his quiet grunts turned into moans as his thrusts became more erratic.

Dizziness invaded their senses and spasms ran through their bodies as Jungkook filled her with his seed, reaching their release.

Trying to catch their breath, he collapsed onto her, his face in the crook of her neck and her hand now stroking his hair.

He held her close, rubbing his nose against her neck, which made her giggle as she reciprocated the squeeze with a happy sigh.

The night was quiet while they enjoyed their proximity, but a sudden muffled noise caught Minji’s attention, her gaze ending on a black cat on the window sill glaring at her.

She reciprocated with a curious glance, but did not give it much thought.

The next few days she began to see him more often; he followed her wherever she went as if he were her shadow. So she decided to take care of him, eventually waiting for his arrival so she could cuddle and play with him. He was very affectionate for a stray cat.

Her heart melted like snow when the cat snuggled up on her thighs for a nap or just to be close to her, as he was doing now. The trust he placed in her filled her with joy. Getting it from an animal was not always easy, hence she was proud of it.

If she spoke to him, he understood. If her mood changed, he sensed it. A little moral support.

Her fingers passed gently through his fur, his purr widening her smile.

“You love that cat very much.”

Her cousin's voice rendered to a whisper brought her back to reality, the cup of tea between the fingers of her other hand now cold, sitting on a chair next to his bed.

Her gaze landed on him, seeing his softened features as he sipped his tea with his back resting on the back of his bed, the pillow making the resting comfortable.

“I do.”

She placed the cup on the undercup placed on the small nightstand to her right before reaching out her hands toward the cup and undercup he was holding out to her, the black cat coming down from her legs to wonder around the room.

"And Jungkook is still displeased."

She let a small chuckle escape her lips, "He is not some witch's familiar, the sphere would have reacted otherwise. Besides, Jungkook is displeased by anything that takes my attention away from him," she reminded him amusedly, setting the undercup and cup down next to hers.

“Oh! That young man is beyond smitten with you that he even wants to get rid of a cat! I wouldn't be surprised if one day he made all the animals around disappear.”

The man laughed wholeheartedly, enjoying the way his son was behaving out of his usual character. But coughing fits interrupped him, his hand over his mouth now smeared with his own blood.

Minji widened her eyes, concern again evident on her face as she knelt at the edge of the bed and handed him a handkerchief, wiping his hand with another.

He looked at her, a soft smile adorning his face, “You are such a kind soul, my lovely little cousin. I don’t see myself worried about leaving my son in bad hands. I’m glad you accepted to be his wife. It’s the best gift I could ever receive.”

She stood still, pain and sadness piercing her heart yet a sense of pride and gratitude followed those emotions at his words.

“Thank you, father-in-law.”

He caressed her cheek, tenderness and affection guiding his gesture, “Take good care of each other, all right?”

“Of course. Always.” She gave him a weak smile, “It’s better if I let you rest, I think I have stayed too long. I will visit again tomorrow.”

“I will wait for you, my precious daughter.”

And off she went, taking with her the tea cart carefully prepared by herself after placing the cups on it, the cat following suit.

After closing the door, she let out a sigh.

A few weeks after their wedding, as Minji and he were having their usual tea hour together, he had brought a hand to his chest before passing out.

Panic had risen, and when they had called the doctor, it was discovered that an illness had struck him.

It was incurable and nameless.

The despair and destruction she had seen pass across Jungkook's face had broken her heart more than the news had already done.

His complexion was pale, dark circles under his eyes, strength weakening, and some of his nights were sleepless.

Her cousin was dying and nothing could be done. Their helplessness was unbearable, but other than spending time with him, they could do nothing else.

He had taken care of her when she was left alone, welcoming her and engaging her immediately as if she was not a mistake of her father's with another woman. He had showered her with love, becoming a father and a brother.

She almost lost her mind.

But the appearance of that cat – which she had named Sese – had been a distraction. Jungkook was busy with family business in his father's stead, so he spent a lot of time in his office room. Caring for an animal helped keep her mind off that unforeseen tragedy, ignoring Jungkook’s disapproval.

The black cat was the witches' familiar. Deception and malice were part of them. Having one in the house brought bad luck, he had even come to believe that he was to blame for his father's illness.

This, however, was not possible, since if he had really been the bearer of misfortune, the protective sphere of the house placed on a pedestal in the basement would have counteracted his strength and prevented him from entering.

He was a normal black cat that she had chosen to take in.

Footsteps could be heard and she looked up, finding Jungkook coming her way with slow, tired movements.

“Is he sleeping?”

She nodded, “Likely. I left to let him rest.” He hummed and Minji approached him, her voice soft as she asked, “Do you want me to make you some tea?”

“What you have already prepared will be fine for me.”

“But it's cold.”

“It's still tea.”

“Alright, alright,” she exhaled before giving him a peck on his lips. “Go and relax a bit too. You need it. I'll join you right away.”

He gave her a weak smile, “Thanks, my dearest.”

Tired voice, slumped shoulders, dull eyes. His pain was palpable even now with his back to her.

She could understand him; he had lost his mother when he was young to a fall from a horse while hunting witches, and now he was losing his father to a disease.

She clenched her hands into fists.

It was not fair. They had begun happy days, their laughter filling the house, their fellowship with each other and even with the household employees.

She thought it would all end with the killing of the witch, but their family still seemed to be in the arms of a curse.

The organization was already mourning one of their important members, but when he actually died a few days later, no one could still believe that they were looking at his grave in the cemetery.

The rain and fog made the event more somber and unbearable.

Condolences and words of prayes were adressed to them with sympathy and compassion.

And the title of Duke had passed to Jungkook.

His obligations had increased and with them the pressure he perceived on himself because of the expectations other members now placed on him and the family business.

The incessant pounding in his head caused distraction and slowed his work.

And today was one of those days.

His vision was blurring and the hand that was holding the pen was trembling, the writings on those papers placed on the desk only meaningless ink.

He let go of the pen and with a sigh leaned back on the chair, rubbing his face with his hands to try to shake off the weariness.

A clink of something contrasting a surface awakened him, seeing his usual cup of tea on his desk and Minji at one side of it.

"Here's your tea, dear."

He reached out a hand toward her and Minji took it between hers, drawing her closer before wrapping his arms around her waist. His head resting on her stomach.

Her fingers began to run through his hair, slightly relieving his headache at which he breathed a sigh of relief.

He rubbed his face against her stomach.

She smiled, softened by his behavior considered childish, and let him be.

“Are you done with your work for the day?”

“Not quite. Unfortunately, I have a headache.”

She blinked, “Again?”

“Again.”

“Then drink, don’t waste time. You said it helps you get over it.”

“I will. Just let me stay like this a little longer.”

She snorted a chuckle and his heart skipped a beat.

He was so lucky to have her.

She supported him with simple gestures, understood when he needed something and assisted when he couldn't continue certain things himself.

She also declined every letter of invitation to tea parties to have a simple chatter with friends because she wanted to stay with him.

Everything about her was soothing. Her touch, her breath, her closeness. She was his main pivot. His life. His.

He couldn’t stop admiring and loving her.

And he was often caught staring at her like a fool and hearing her laugh every time she told him to stop was a cure-all.

For her he was also trying to like Sese, even though he was taking up too much of Minji's time. And she gently scolded him not to be jealous of a cat.

He probably was.

Normality was setting in again in their lives and he was over the moon.

However, something began to crack once again.

Minji was on the alert, often distant and silent. Whether at home or during meetings between members of the organization, or simply walking through the streets of the central city. Especially with him.

Anxiety and terror had mixed, shaping thoughts and theories that were taking root in his mind.

She was terrifying him. He was afraid she had grown tired of him. That she had a lover.

Just thinking about it sent him into a frenzy.

He had started having nightmares and the sleepless nights did not allow him to think properly.

And the discovery of her nocturnal outings fed his fear that was getting out of control even more.

She was not betraying him. She was not leaving him. She couldn't. She had no chance.

He had tried, he had tried to communicate, to understand the problem, but he had received no answer.

Every excuse was used to avoid confrontation.

This time he would wait for her to face the situation once and for all.

He saw her as she crossed the threshold of their bedroom with light steps so as not to make noise.

Her gaze had immediately focused on him, sitting in the chair by the window set at the left side of the bed. There was no surprise and fear of being caught red-handed; no, it was as if she knew someone was waiting for her.

Doubts crept more into him.

"Where were you?"

"I was thirsty, I drank some water."

"You were thirsty, you drank water,” he was mocking her as he got up, walking slowly up to her. “In your walking dress.”

He was so close that she could feel his breath on her face, the silent expressiveness in his eyes exposing his anxious thoughts.  hands shaking and slightly labored breathing.

He was so close that she could feel his ragged breath on her face. The quiet expressiveness in his eyes baring his anxious thoughts.

She tilted her head to the side, weirded out and irritated by his behavior.

“I put on the first dress I could find. Finding a suitable one would have taken time.”

“Can… Can we talk about it?”

“About what?”

“About how you’re lying to me.”

The snort she gave him left him stunned, the rope of sanity permanently snapping.

His heart began to pound faster, his trembling hands cupping her face. Despair clouded his mind at her faint mocking smile and no definitive answer.

He couldn't stand it. She was kind. She was loving. She loved him.

“What’s happening? Why are you reacting like this? Is someone bothering you? Threatening you? You don’t have to hide things from me. I’m your husband! I can help you!”

He was a mess.

He spoke fast, his voice quivering, and he felt like he was losing his mind.

It was exploding. He felt suffocated.

He took his head in his hands, his knees ending up on the ground, another headache suddenly occurring. This time heavier and more persistent.

His stomach burned, a lump forming in his throat until he vomited blood before falling sideways, a few splatters reaching Minji's dress.

She had moved a few steps closer, looking down on him.

Bent over, panting, shivering, frail.

“The tea has finally had its effect. Did you enjoy the nightmares? Probably of me leaving you alone. The twist is… you were always alone. I’m not your father’s cousin. I’m not part of your family. I am not a Jeon. Spreading rumors of an illegitimate child was a child’s play.”

Jungkook was gasping for air, tremendously shocked by what was happening. He looked at her, pupils shaking, face pale, jolts sweeping through his body.

"Too many questions you're asking me!” she chuckled, her arms behind her back with the fingers of one hand intertwined with the other. “My amazement at observing human greed will never end. Tearing books from witches and using them against them to feel powerful, killing them with no mercy whatsoever. Creating massacres and making children orphans. You have no respect for what you have. Truly deplorable.”

Anger was audible in her voice, her face disfigured with disgust.

“In two of those many massacres were the three most important people in my life. I am sure that the memory of a big wolf protecting a woman is not easily forgotten, as the sight of such a wolf is not every day occurrence. They were my parents. And I was watching with my husband and brother, hidden from your eyes under my parents' request. Shortly afterwards I lost my husband as well." A sinister glint appeared in her eyes, bending her upper body slightly toward him, "The pain I felt had been so immeasurable that I was burning with the desire to make you feel the same. You should have seen your father's face the day he died, when I revealed myself as a witch. My smile must have scared him a lot.” She smirked, “How do you feel?”

Betrayal was the only thing that was piercing his lungs and heart, immobilizing him from regular breathing and opening his mouth to respond.

Bitter tears began to stream down his cheeks.

“Nevertheless, I must admit that your obsession with me was a great benefit; you made access easier for me, and getting rid of those other lousy hunters didn't bother me at all.”

“Do you really have to tell him everything?”

The interjection of a dissatisfied male voice made her straighten up, but she didn’t take her eyes off Jungkook, whose attention was now on the young man who had stopped beside Minji with the black cat on his right shoulder.

“Where is Sese, brother?”

“On my shoulder.”

Jungkook saw the pet jump down and walk behind Minji.

He thought he would see him popping up from the other side, but what appeared before his eyes were boots. Looking up, he noticed pants, a shirt, and finally a face.

A face he had last seen burning at the stake.

“We should leave, I can't stay one more minute in this shitty place,” Hoseok grumbled, his arm resting on Minji’s shoulder. “I can still smell that damned burning smell and my skin being roasted.”

“You'll get over it.”

“You go to the stake next time, Yoongi.”

“What do we do now, Minji?” Yoongi completely ignored his  annoyed comment, addressing his sister.

Silence crept in.

They were watching Jungkook like a fucking prey. Like a trapped animal. And he was.

He couldn’t do much. He had been deceived.

“Burn everything down.”

As Minji uttered those words, his hand clutched her skirt in a desperate gesture, shaking his head.

He didn't care. He wanted his wife. His love. He didn't give a fuck about her being a witch or something else. He loved her. He fucking loved her!

“Don’t… Don’t leave me, please…”

“This bastard is desperate. Apparently, you left a deep mark,” Yoongi sneered, followed by a giggle from Hoseok.

Minji extended her hand in front of her brother, and he pulled out a hunter's knife taken from the house to give it to her.

“I told you destroying them from the inside would be more satisfying, brother. My role has more impact than yours. Even though women are witch hunters, they are still viewed differently than men. Taking advantage of this was essential. Look how they collapsed like a sandcastle. I hope you had as much fun as I did, Jungkook.”

The knife was held in mid-air above Jungkook, at heart level.

His fingers tightened on her skirt, pleading with his eyes not to, but she didn't listen. Instead, she released her grip on the knife.

And as if moved by an invisible force – her power – it cut through the air and pierced his chest, reaching his heart.

His eyes lost their vitality, his body stopped moving.

And the room fell silent again.

Some time later, the house began to catch on fire.

Yoongi hid and Hoseok took on the appearance of a cat again, while she warned the employees who lived in the house to get out.

It had been a wonderful sight in her eyes.

The flames that enthusiastically enveloped the Jeon house.

Bright, big, lightning up the night.

Like the witches who were burned at the stake.

It had all been so simple that it bored her.

When she discovered that her mixed blood could somehow nullify the effects of the witches' spells used by those humans, she realized that she could do something to destroy them.

And she was succeeding. After carefully studying the methods, observing the hunters, and strengthening herself, she had taken action.

Her brother was against it, he didn't want her to put herself in danger, but she assured him that it wouldn't happen. And here was the wonderful result.

She was thanking her father for being a werewolf, and the human stupidity in not having yet discovered the existence of other living beings with different abilities.

On top of that, the compassion they were showing her after this misfortune was truly hilarious.

Talking about how her late husbands, father-in-law and her distancing from society were the work of the successor to the dukedom, his obsession and fear of having someone take her away from him, how he started a fire and she ended up having to shove a knife in his heart in self-defense, it had been a theatrical show.

The Kim family even offered to host her. A kind family indeed, she had to admit. However, they had too much faith in the witchcraft that they detested so much, and she had once again entered another house of witch hunters without repercussions.

Humming as she sat at her dressing table in her new room, she looked at herself in the mirror, fixing some messy locks in front of her face.

"Jin, Namjoon or Taehyung? Who should I go for first?" she asked, eyes fixed on her reflection before showing an interested and pleased expression. "Oh, all three? Naughty."

After smiling one more time, she stepped out of her room, her reflection still adjusting her hair through the mirror.

Then she smiled, getting up and disappearing from the mirror.

A victorius and sly giggle echoing within the walls.

[anlian-aishang]

[sub!levi x reader, smut, restraints, choking // 700 words]

Levi whines so weakly - it puts his title of humanity's strongest to shame.

Levi moans so miserably - neighbors temporarily mistake which one of you is making all that noise.

Levi curses so consistently - his day-to-day language is a lullaby in contrast.

Levi screams so sharply - you question if this sex is more pain than pleasure.

Even as his spouse of so many years, you were shocked at the sight - the sound - of him tonight. Your heart was overwhelmed by the adrenaline rush of witnessing Levi the way he was now: compassionate concern with his strained outbursts, sadistic annoyance at his bitchy mewls, a surging confidence knowing that your sex could bring him to this end. With each pitch and acceleration in his voice, Levi forced a contradictory cocktail of arousal and aggravation down your throat - culminating in its tightening. An internal struggle between a-are you okay and shut up slut - you know you love it rendered you ultimately speechless, the perfect opposite to him.

"Fuck... F-huh-ck me!!" Slender fingers curled around your satin ropes and threatened to rip your ties, but this was not your first time working with bondage.

It was the first time, though, that you cupped your hand around his throat. Watching the veins rise in his neck, you longed to feel their movements under you. Seeing shadows of his tendons make love with moonlight, you longed to project their scene onto your skin. Adam's apple bobbed, pulse fast against your palm - Levi's life in your hands - there was no greater power trip.

At least, you believed that for a few seconds until his voice rose again, "Oh god, oh shit!" Levi writhed in sweat-soaked sheets. Legs stretched. Muscles flexed. Bruises began to bud where your fingertips pressed, but he did not seem to mind. In fact, given the buck of his hips and curve of his cock, he appeared to ascend in your grasp.

His incoherence played evidence to a sky-high headspace. "C'Cum... want to... I can't...!"

Your brows narrowed in total focus, all senses honed in trying to read him: feeling his heat radiate into you, listening to each of his sighs and syllables, seeing his struggle. Come on. Spit it out, Levi. What do you want, baby?

And despite how noisy he had been all night, it was his eye contact that communicated most in the end. Steel irises endeavored to peek past his eyelids squeezed shut. In them, an ounce of calm in meeting your gaze, glazed over by the climax of pre-orgasmic strife. Trembling lips and vulnerability's look worked together to convey, Please - Please let me cum!

It was admittedly inadvertent then - how your motions quickly morphed into the ones that would get him there. Your generosity - merciful or accidental - beckoned immediate thanks from the man below you. A white-knuckle grip of your curves, crescent fingernails dug into them. As his eyes rolled back, he likewise released his reins: succumbing into pleasure - screaming with the waves of it.

He never did arrive at an adjective, but your ego swelled at the thought: you were beyond words.

"Oh fuck! Shit... Shit!" Levi's hips begin to spasm, nearly throwing you off of him. In that way, the orgasm itself continued to test him, as breaking from your contact was the last thing he wanted. Fists clenched in ironed bedding, leaving sinful folds, as he attempted to subdue his spasms. Teeth grit, swears snuck through, "F'Fuck... Feels so - you feel so - !!"

As his breaths slowed to standard, as his tone came back to earth, and as his skin dimmed from bright red to pink blush to warm white, the Levi Ackerman that everyone knows reinhabited the figure beneath you - so recently fucked out beyond words, now too humiliated for them. Atoning for his shameless other side, he gazed up to you - pleading once again. This time, not for his release, but for your restraint. In response, your reassurance rained down with a silent smile: his secrets were safe with you.

// masterlist //

[bettdraws]

This is insane but what if Elain and Lucien’s first time is the most impulsive and shocking out of all the sisters where they end up having sex against a wall in a dark alcove in the middle of a NC party after an argument cause their bond is so strong and so starved –think THAT Atonement scene– and immediately when they’re done they’re both shocked and she is like I’m sorry and my girl RUNS AWAY IN SHOCK.

And they never tell anyone.

And she avoids him like the plague even more than before.

[timetravellingshinigami]

"Look at me. Come back....come back to me.."

Inspired by that scene in Atonement.

[figgrrr0]

I’m not sure what a brain rot is but I can totally see cyno trying to hard to be in control but he can’t do anything because the dom girl reader is just to good to him.this man is begging for somthing but she won’t give that easily since he broke his promise of being careful during a mission so he got punished

A brainrot is exactly what you just did! It's basically sharing an idea about a character that you can't stop thinking about. It's usually smut, but I think angst and fluff can count as brainrot too 🩷

Punishing Cyno

Reader: Female // Genre: Smut, Angst

Cw: Vaginal sex, edging, slight angst, blood/injury (mentioned)

I can totally see this as the whole cliche where Cyno doesn't tell Reader that he's leaving for this mission, because he knows she'll want to talk him out of it. So then he'd go without telling her, and he shows up a week later just covered in blood and some injuries that aren't typical for him to return home with.

Then she has to patch him up at home, because Cyno doesn't want to waste time going to a local healer (and he doesn't want anyone else to know that he messed up so bad).

While he's recovering, Reader is very obviously upset with him. She's ignoring his attempts to explain himself, maybe even avoiding him for a few days, except for when she brings him something while he has to rest. Then, of course, all the tension comes to a head in an emotional sex scene.

Reader is riding him, forcing him to lay down against the soft pillows while she sets the pace. Cyno keeps trying to push up onto his elbows, hissing in pain and halting his movements when his cuts and bruises flare up again. Every time this happens, Reader stops moving, settling her ass against his hips and staring him down angrily until he relinquishes. She sits there, cockwarming him until he eventually gives in, quietly pleading for her to "please keep going..."

And she does, but slower this time; gradually bringing them both to the edge at the same time... of course, she may just decide to edge him a few times, to make sure he's definitely learned his lesson. Each time she does this, he'll beg so nicely, even apologising for leaving so secretly in the first place. When Reader decides he's atoned well enough, then she'll show her mercy, finally letting him cum. After all, Cyno is still recovering from his injuries; she can't go too hard on him. Yet.

Thank you for reading! 🩷

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