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himbodruid · 3 days ago

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Just One Night

Sylus x Reader x Rafayel

Crowfish Sandwich

-:- double v penetration -:- creampie -:- afab reader

THIS IS INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°⭑ ⋆.ೃ࿔*:𓇼⋆.ೃ࿔*

You thought by now that you would be accustomed to the stress that came with failed missions. Mountains of paperwork and long hours were a constant companion for weeks now, along with the torture of not knowing what you could’ve done different. You’d hardly known a moment’s rest, so when you’d called Sylus near tears, he’d sprung into action.

Which is how you found yourself sitting in the direct center of your bed, leaning against your headboard, with the two people you trusted the most on either side of you. Sylus had orchestrated the small support gathering. After bringing you home and coaxing you through a shower to rid you of the tension that turned your shoulders into a brick wall, he called Rafayel using your phone. Rafayel brought an assortment of drinks and snacks with him and together, they plied you with sustenance, taking care of you when you couldn’t escape your rude mind.

You didn’t mean to worry them, but the catatonic state washed over you before you could escape it. You sat, staring but unseeing while the pair of them fussed over you. You could hear them talking to each other, but the words sounded like a distant echo. Then their silhouettes converged in front of you, remaining there until your vision refocused.

With a startled jerk, you came into a sharp realization that their silhouettes were far more intertwined than you thought. Their heads tilted opposite each other, lips locked together in a kiss so passionate that you felt a blush splash across your face almost instantly.

It was enough to shock you out of your dissociative state, and you watched with awe as the two most beautiful men in your life kissed each other while leaning over your lap. You wanted it to never end, the desire pouring from all three of you working to overshadow any jealousy you might have felt at not being included.

Oh, gods, there was tongue involved too. Seeing them go at each other so fervently sent a thrill through you, making you squirm and bite your lip. They broke apart at your movement, eyes locked on each other for a brief moment while heat passed between them. Then as one, they turned to you.

“Well whaddya know, that actually worked,” Rafayel said with a chuckle.

“Welcome back, Kitten,” Sylus said. You didn’t miss the husky undertone in his voice, or the flinty flash of desire in both of their eyes. They would explain to you later that they’d tried multiple times to get your attention before deciding to do it, but the kiss was the only effective method of yanking you out of your own mind. You couldn’t complain, the word hot rolling in your mind over and over.

Words tumbled from you without much thought. “Why’d you stop?”

That earned you an eyebrow raise from both men, and they looked at each other like they couldn’t believe what you were encouraging. Something about it struck you as comical, and you huffed out a breathy laugh. Sylus gave Rafayel a soft smirk, and then Rafayel let out a chuckle of his own to join your mirth.

Rafayel took the lead, then, leaning back into Sylus and slanting his lips across the other’s. You watched them, watched as Rafayel coaxed him open with a moan, watched as their tongues danced and tangled with each other’s, watched as Sylus threaded his hand through Rafayel’s hair. Every sight, every sound, shot straight to your core.

And then, to your absolute thrill, the two turned their attention to you.

They closed the space between you; Sylus’s hot mouth finding yours, while Rafayel’s dipped to your neck. Both of them used their tongues skillfully, driving you to perfect distraction; Sylus plunged his into your mouth while Rafayel’s chased your quickening pulse. Their hands worked collectively to unbutton your shirt, sliding the soft fabric down your shoulders with ease.

Rafayel’s mouth traveled further while Sylus’s kept yours occupied. You gasped into Sylus when you felt a tongue swirl around your nipple, your hand coming up to card through Rafayel’s feather-soft hair. The sensations they plied you with were both too much and not enough at the same time. They set your body ablaze, need coursing through your veins.

A large hand- Sylus’s you realized- brushed over your collarbone, thumbed the hardened peak of your free nipple, and then continued downward until it dipped beneath the waistband of your shorts. He cupped you there, fingers sliding through your folds. Heat pooled there, and you would find the time later to be embarrassed about how quickly their touch aroused you. But at the moment, all you could do was whimper into Sylus’s mouth, and arch your back to press your breast further into Rafayel. With a chuckle, Rafayel released your nipple from the teasing clutch of his teeth. Then he brought his face back up, coming in at an angle to somehow kiss not only you, but also Sylus at the same time. It was sloppy and overwhelming, but damn if it didn't just turn you on even more. And judging by the prominent bulges pressing into your thighs from either side, it was having the same effect on them too.

Sylus relinquished control to Rafayel, his mouth blazing a trail down your neck and then over your shoulder. Rafayel gently tugged you towards him, until you had him at your front and Sylus behind you, placing biting kisses across the back of your neck and shoulders. His hand also remained firmly against your mound, fingers dipping further and and further into your folds.

Impatience had you reaching for Rafayel’s belt. He chuckled into your mouth, helping you fumble with unbuckling it before his arms wrapped around you to do the same for Sylus- since his hands were occupied with you. He pulled away from you so that he could tug his shirt over his head, and you used the opportunity to turn slightly so that you could meet with Sylus’s waiting mouth.

Your hands circled each cock once they were finally freed from their fabric prison. Stroking both men root to tip simultaneously, you reveled in the similarities and differences between the two. Iron encased in velvet, and yet each of them had their own texture. Sylus curled his fingers into your folds a little deeper in response to your teasing, and you couldn’t stop the moan that he greedily swallowed. Rafayel’s arms came around you once more, this time to assist Sylus in unbuttoning his shirt while his mouth latched onto your neck. The room was filled with heavy breaths and soft moans from all directions, the sounds nearly drowned out by the pulse thundering in your ears.

And then Sylus dug those deft fingers deep inside you and you cried out, dropping your head back against his shoulder while he chuckled in your ear. He did it again, a long slow stroke that had you bucking your hips against his knuckle-deep grip. Your concentration fractured, and your hands stilled on their cocks. Rafayel tilted his hips forward, chasing your grip on him with a low moan. Sylus guided your hand away from him and hauled you against him, pulling you backwards until you all but lay atop him with his chest to your back.

“Relax, Kitten,” he growled into your ear when you tensed up. You made to complain about resting your weight on him, but he held you firmly enough that you could only obey. His broad chest held you easily enough, and his free arm wrapped firmly under your breasts to cage you to him. Rafayel assisted in sliding your shorts and underwear down your legs, tossing the clothing aside. Then he watched as Sylus continued digging his fingers into your slicked folds, stroking both himself and Sylus with a smirk playing across his full lips. You whimpered, squirming against Sylus’s hold on you. The sensations assailing you were too much, not enough, some strange mixture of both.

All too soon, Sylus slid his fingers from you. The complaint died on your lips, though, when you felt Rafayel guide Sylus’s cock against your folds. Sylus held you spread to him, tilting his hips into Rafayel’s grip while he nudged into you. First the tip teased you, then he continued sinking into you at a torturously slow pace. All the while, Rafayel circled your clit with the pad of his thumb. You could feel the head of Sylus drag along your walls, a sensation that sent tingling thrills up your spine.

“You take him so well, cutie,” Rafayel said, leaning over you to ply your body in open-mouthed kisses. He continued circling your clit, even as Sylus buried himself to the hilt and paused briefly before pulling back and thrusting back in. His breathy moan in your ear sent ripples of pleasure to your core, and you couldn’t help but to respond with one of your own. Rafayel’s mouth crept lower and lower on your body, until he replaced his thumb at your clit with his tongue. He rasped against you with the flat of it while Sylus continued to thrust into you. Closer and closer, they drove you to the edge. Your voice rang out uninhibited, body trembling and hands clutching Rafayel’s hair.

And then all at once, both of them stopped. Rafayel raised himself up, shuffling closer until he…

Oh. Oh, fuck.

He notched himself against you, pushing forward to join Sylus in stretching your cunt to its limits. The pain was brief, quickly overshadowed by the pleasure that flooded you. It was a shock to you that you could be stretch in such a way- you were expecting them to fill both holes instead of squeezing deliciously into only one.

Once your body adjusted to the intrusion, the two of them began moving rhythmically. When one would pull, the other would push. They filled you so fully that you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to recover from the encounter. The growling grunts in one ear from Sylus was at odds with the breathy moans from Rafayel in the other. Your voice rose above both of theirs to echo in the room, arms circling Rafayel to dig your nails into his back. The slow, deliberate pace in which they pistoned in and out of you was torturous. And each time one of their cocks would reach the furthest depths, they brushed against that place inside you before retreating to make room for the other to do the same. It was too much, not enough. Your breathing grew erratic, moans pouring from you unbidden as that coil tightened inside you.

“Fuck, you take us so well. You gonna cum for us, cutie?” Rafayel’s teeth scraped against the shell of your ear before he moved to the side that Sylus rested. The lewd sounds of their kiss, their moans, paired with their cocks driving into you was enough to drive you to the edge. You turned your head, searching out a mouth to claim, and Rafayel obliged you. He thrust is tongue against yours while Sylus latched onto your neck. As though they could sense your building urgency, their pace increased. There was no longer a pattern to their thrusts, they just took you in tandem.

“Cum for us, kitten,” came Sylus’s growled command when he released your neck to nuzzle the bruise-like spot he raised. It was a command that your body was all too willing to follow. You dragged your mouth from Rafayel’s, throwing your head back to cry out into the room as you shattered around them. Your body jerked involuntarily as the climax ripped violently through you, an intensity that you’d never felt before. Fuck, and still they didn’t stop, riding you through one orgasm only to begin building another instantaneously.

“Good girl,” Rafayel moaned, reveling in the feel of your cunt pulsing around them, gripping at them.

“Your turn, crow,” he chuckled breathlessly.

“Not before you, fish,” was Sylus’s grunted reply.

At that, you reached back to thread your fingers into Sylus’s silvery hair, turning your head to crush your mouth against his. This time it was your turn to plunge your tongue in, and the act earned you a deep, guttural moan that vibrated against your back. His grip on your thighs tightened almost painfully and his hips snapped up to thrust into you at a punishing pace. Rafayel stilled, buried deep in you while Sylus stroked both of you with his cock. Rafayel nuzzled into your neck, his breathy moans growing more erratic. He’d meant to send Sylus over the edge first, but, fuck, you felt too good clenched around both of them with Sylus slamming into you.

“F-fuck, I’m gonna-“ Sylus moaned into your mouth. You felt pleasure tighten deep in you at his desperate words, bringing you closer and closer with each powerful plunge of his cock while Rafayel’s remained pressed deliciously against that spot deep in you.

“Yes,” you whimpered, fingers curling into both his and Rafayel’s hair. Rafayel’s teeth scraped the arch of your neck, just below your ear.

“Where, cutie?” He asked, breathless, clearly right at the edge with Sylus.

“In-inside,” you whimper, your words a barely coherent whisper as pleasure stole your breath. A cry tore from you as the thrumming pulse washed over you again. Somehow, this orgasm was more intense than the last. You swore stars flashed in your vision as you jerked and bucked against them. And that pleasure was only increased tenfold when Sylus gave one final, rough thrust into you.

And fuck, both men were loud. Their moans surrounded you as, one right after the other, their cocks flooded you. Curses tumbled from Sylus as his head fell back against the pillows, his grip on your thighs trembling as his cock twitched and pulsed against Rafayel’s inside you. Rafayel nuzzled against your neck, trembling with the effort to remain upright. He sat back on his heels, moaning at the sight of you impaled on both of their cocks, of Sylus flushed and sated beneath you. They remained inside you, soft involuntary jerks of their hips driving them deep as they rode the high of release with you.

You were exhausted, nothing but putty in their hands as they pulled from you and Rafayel carried you to the bathroom. Sylus stayed behind to change your sheets, cleaning up the mess they made, and then joined you in the shower with Rafayel once the task was complete. They fawned over you, pampered you, all but worshipped you as they worked together to clean you up. They plied you with praises and soft kisses, inquiring about any discomforts every few words. You met their questions with tired answers, but overall you felt incredible.

Cleaned and dried, you were settled back into the center of the bed. Sylus and Rafayel slid beneath the blankets with you, and you turned to curl into Sylus’s broad chest, with Rafayel’s chest at your back. You sighed in contentment, thanking the pair for a night you knew you’d never be able to forget. Cocooned in their warmth and tender touches, sleep tugged at you.

You couldn’t think of any other instance where you’d felt more safe, more loved, than this moment.

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lazysoulwriter · 2 days ago

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they’re literally the most unconvincing enemies of all time. - pedro!pascal ── .✦

requested! thank you. content: Pedro Pascal x actress!wife!reader, photoshoot fluff, enemies-to-lovers promo, married couple chaos, public kissing, internet fanfare.

The movie was war. On-screen? Pure chaos. Off-screen?

Pure love.

You and Pedro had never played enemies before — not really. Sure, there had been tension-heavy scenes in past projects, but this was different.

This movie was enemies. Capital E. Sharp tongues, ice-cold glares, explosive chemistry. The kind of story that would have fans writing essays about eye contact and unspoken backstory.

Which made the promo shoot an absolute joke.

“Okay, let’s do one where you’re nose to nose,” the photographer called. “Tension. Fire. You hate each other.”

Pedro leaned in, brows furrowed, jaw tight. You mirrored him.

Silence.

A beat passed.

Then he whispered, “You look really hot when you’re trying to murder me, mi amor.”

You broke.

Snorted mid-glare. He grinned. You shoved him, laughing. “You’re ruining this!”

“You’re ruining me.”

“PEDRO.”

Somehow — somehow — you managed to get through the main shoot.

The “intense enemy face-off” shots turned out gorgeous. Black and white. High contrast. His hand curled tightly around your wrist. Your eyes blazing into his. His mouth a straight, unforgiving line.

Everyone who saw them said the same thing: they're magnetic.

And then came the outtakes.

You didn’t even know they’d saved them.

One photo showed you both breaking character mid-scowl, grinning like idiots.

Another? Pedro cracking up while you wiped something off his cheek.

Then: the forehead-touch. A private moment between takes where you were laughing too hard to breathe and Pedro leaned into you, whispering something that made your eyes go soft. Your hand in his curls.

And finally — the kiss.

His hand on your waist, your fingers on his neck, both of you smiling into it like you forgot anyone else existed.

The day the magazine dropped both sets — the “serious” ones and the outtakes — the internet exploded.

“No one has ever failed harder at pretending to hate each other than these two 😭” “You expect me to believe that man wants to kill her?? He looks like he wants to build her a house with his bare hands.” “this is the most married couple behavior i’ve ever seen” “her hand in his hair?? his SMILE?? the way he melts into the kiss??” “they’re the reason i believe in love again” “WHO LET THEM DO THIS TO US???”

There were memes. There were fancams. There were essays about how the line between fiction and reality had clearly dissolved in Pedro Pascal’s eyes the moment you looked at him.

You woke up trending the next morning.

Pedro held up his phone at breakfast with a grin.

“‘Pedro Pascal being the worst fake enemy but the best real husband’,” he read aloud. “Not wrong.”

You rolled your eyes, stealing a bite of his toast. “They’re dramatic.”

He leaned across the table, kissed you slowly.

And smirked.

“So are we.”

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @joelmillerpascal @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure@barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512 @alltounwell @libbyaller @beaagiannelli @broad-shouldrs @oceanmcu @kysosa @melloispunk @jollycupcakeblizzard @angvlicsoulll @needz1nk @daddypascal17 @agustdpeach @mrsbilicablog @k4t13ispunk @hotdadlvr95 @lnnysnts @pedropascalfan221 @queenofklonnie22 @christinamadsen @ilovecheriies @stvr-bloom

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feelfreetopleasemexo · 3 days ago

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WAIT. WAIT. GET THIS.

Katsuki who has crazy mommy issues x laid back and non judgemental reader who he accidentally calls "mommy" because of how comfortable and safe he feels with her.

He doesn't realise it, but subconsciously, he feels like reader gives him all the soft love, connection and understanding his mother never gave him all his life and one random day while they're hanging out in her room or something, when he goes to adress her he almost slips up calling her "Oi Mom——! OH FUCK— I MEAN-" but then reader being very laid back and non judgemental assures him she do not give a fuck and thinks it's super cute he sees her that way

you can totally make this into a smut where he finds out he has a mommy kink and reader tells him its okay and whatever😝

Anyway your writing is so fire and you're super pretty too LOVE YA💋🩷

Oh my fuck, yes i actually love this!! And thank you so much, means the absolute world to me! 😭🥰

A simple slip of the tongue.

What people see when they look at Katsuki:

-standoffish

-asshole

-loud mouth

-brutal

-aggressive

What you see when you look at him:

-passionate

-fiercely loyal

-protective

-honest

-god damn Adonis

It’s one of the many reasons why you work so well together as a couple, where others see his rough exterior, you see the reasons behind it. When it’s just you two he can let his guard down a little, which means you get much more of an insight into his actual personality, quips, troubles and all. Katsuki didnt have the worst childhood in your friendship group, but that doesn’t negate the fact that his mother didnt exactly show him the softest forms of love. Dont get me wrong, she tried her best in the way she knew how, but just because someone punches you in the face as their way of saying they love you, doesn’t mean it still doesn’t hurt like fuck still.

When katsuki got drunk, he got more honest with you, which is the only reason you knew so much about his home life to begin with. It started off with tiny remarks, youd cuddle him into your chest and play with his hair, and hed let out tiny moans and almost inaudible ‘I never got this as a kid’ confessions. First hed get embarrassed that they’d slip out, jump away from you and scorn, but when he saw that every time he’d confess something youd smooth him back to your chest and continue, completely unfazed, the easier it became to open up. He’d never tell you out right , but it was the number one reason he loved you, close second being your deliciously plump ass, he knew that no matter what he threw at you, youd accept him, comfort him, and above all else, love him.

You were in the kitchen, fixing yourself some tea and him some disgustingly spicy noodles which hed demanded he needed after that torturous lecture from Aizawa, when all of a sudden your phone rang. Mina was calling you, hounding you for the notes from the lecture as she definitely had not fall asleep half way through, and definitely did not miss every single thing that Aizawa was talking about. You rolled your eyes as you humoured her, detailing all the important topics that everyone else had managed to write down, when Katsuki began to call for you.

“BABE! Are those noodles done yet? IM DYING IN HERE!….BABE?! Oi! MOM….fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck.” The simple slip of the tongue made your heart hitch in your throat, luckily Mina hadn’t heard it and was continuing to trail on about how none of the topics made sense, and how she was sure that she was going to fail the class. You laughed slightly to yourself, the warm familiar feeling rising in your chest which usually came from when Katsuki would drunkenly confess, only this time he was stone cold sober, and this definitely didnt mean to come out. You carried on the conversation with Mina, wrapping it up as Katsuki sheepishly peered his head around the corner of the door. You didn’t even look at him, when you finished with Mina and hung your phone up, you waltzed back over to the noodles and continued stirring them. He stared at you for what felt like an eternity, your body almost moving in slow motion as he gauged whether youd heard him screaming like a banshee or not. He watched your hips sway, you voice hum gently and your hair trailing down the sides of your back.

When the food was ready, you span around and jolted slightly at him peering at you from behind the wooden doorframe.

“Hey baby, sorry it took so long! Mina was kinda yapping so I had to help her out, but here! As spicy as I could physically mark them you mad man.” Your smile warmed the embarrassment in his chest, his shoulders still tense and his jaw as tight as ever, he grabbed the bowl from you with both hands and stared down at it.

“Oh yeah that’s cool, no er, no worries. I was just shouting to see if they were done i, I didn’t realise you were on the phone.”

His eyes stared at the noodles as if theyd personally offended him, ratted him out to you about his slip of the tongue. You kissed the side of his cheek and smiled up at him, causing his eyes to meet yours. Your smile was the sweetest, softest thing hed ever seen, and on more than one occasion was the reason for the confessions in the first place. You tilted your head and giggled softly at him, as he stared at you like a deer in headlights, an angry, embarrassed, fire wielding deer, but still. You walked past him with your tea in one hand, your other grazing gently over his bicep as you past him, sitting down and crossing your legs on your bed as if to invite him to sit infront of you. He walked over to you and perched on the end of the bed, facing you, with his shoulders still stiff, and his clenched jaw causing his cheek muscles to shake.

“I, er….I appreciate it. I appreciate you. Glad you didn’t hear what I said earlier…” his voice became soft, almost a whisper as he cherished the fact you were on the phone call. You stared down as you drank some of your tea, your eyes fixed on the swirls your breath created.

“I heard you. And I don’t care.” His eyes shot to yours, embarrassment and angry filling his face, he grasped the bowl so tightly it nearly scattered under his palms.

“You fucking heard me?! I didn’t mean it, shit, I just…” You leaned over, placing a delicately understanding kiss on his lips, rendering him speechless.

“Kats, I don’t give a shit. I call people mom or sis all the time, shit happens. Brains are weird and mouths are too… but I must say, yours is particularly weird when you do that thing with your tongue that i like.” He couldnt believe you didn’t care, he knew you were nonchalant and understanding but this? After all the times he’d complained to you about his mom, and then calling you her? What was wrong with you?! And what the hell did he do to deserve someone so kind, so understanding, so fucking nice. It baffled him that you seemed so unfazed, so much so that he missed the clear hint of flirting in your voice. You pressed another kiss to his lips, moving slightly closer to him.

“Thought it was kinda hot to be fair, you thinking of me like that. Do you want me to take care of you? Show you how much I love you, baby?” His cheeks became more flushed, his eyes widened at your blatant change in demeanour. Why did the thought of you getting off on him calling you mom cause such a tight feeling in his stomach? Why did you acting like you liked it make his trousers suddenly feel instantly tighter…He tried to shake it off, tried to reassure himself you were just being your usual understanding, kind self, but as soon as you set your drink down and sat yourself in his lap, he knew something was awakening in him.

“Oh fuck, why do you have to have the fucking mommy kink? Denki having it? That’s a no brainer, Deku? Yeah sounds about it, but you? God fuck baby girl, why did I have to pick such a perv?” His eyes softened as you giggled at him, throwing your head back and laughing, only to the bring your forehead to his as you cooed softly.

“Yeah baby, it’s me that has it. All me. Fuck it, I’ll take whatever you can’t right now, as long as it means you call me mommy again.”

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hollyoongs · 3 days ago

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⤷ DO YOU NEED HELP, BOSS? (PART 1/2)

시놉시스 ┆secretary!𝘬arina, ─────⠀ceo f!reader 𓂅 𝑤.𝑐: +7k ꒰ ⌗ smut with plot꒱ ℰditoral 4 GIRLS COMING SOON! 𓂂

─────⠀unrequited longing (turned mutual), voyeurism (implied), masturbation, overheard moaning, mutual pining, desk sex, oral (both), fingering, praise kink, slight degradation ("slut", "good girl"), switch couple!!, possessiveness ("own me"), dirty talk (mutual), power reversal, overstimulation, public setting kink (office), mommy kink (brief), light spanking, aftercare implied, mutual obsession, mention of toys (double penetration dildo, strap-on), one scene of partial undressing (Karina strips the reader), intense eye contact and control play, breathy neediness, teasing, orgasm denial avoided (but close), emotional tension driving physical desire.

NEVER USED "Y/N" FOR A STORY, BUT HERE IT IS, CURSIVE LETTER MEANS IT'S SOMETHING THAT HAPPENED IN THE PAST

The power you held was absolute and unquestionable. Every decision you made rippled through the walls of your company, and no one dared to challenge it, not because they were afraid, but because you are the best. The glass of your office windows reflected that authority—high above, unreachable. Until Karina came along.

She was efficient, poised, and always dressed impeccably in tight skirts and button-up shirts that hugged her pretty curves. And let's not forget a messy yet elegant hairstyle that showed her beautiful features; her shy behavior was her charm in contrast to how she matched your dominant energy at meetings. She always had her very organized folder at her side, her little notebook writing carefully crafted questions as the executives were speaking—ones that left them speechless and you with a proud smile, proud of the decision of accepting her in your company after many failed secretaries.

In a way, Karina was flawless in her role. Although the way she handled herself wasn’t the only thing that made you notice her. It was the subtle tension that built over time she gave after a couple of months of working with you, the lingering glances that lasted a little too long, and the accidental touches that felt anything but accidental.

In a very short amount of time, she had a way of breaking through the walls that you created with your blood, sweat, and tears, and you hated that you started to like it.

Meetings became the highlight of your day, watching how she tactically maneuvered through conversations, challenging others with a grace that had you hooked. And every time she met your eyes after silencing an executive’s weak argument for some sign of validation in your face, you felt that pang of pride with something more dangerous hiding there—desire. A desire that you realized way later.

You couldn’t deny that it became more than professionalism. The way her fingers brushed against yours when she handed you documents, how her breath would hitch just barely when you stood close to her to discuss quarterly reports, how that composed exterior of hers cracked just enough for you to notice how deeply the tension simmered beneath the surface.

But you kept it together. After all, you were the CEO. Control was what you thrived on and will always be that way. You had never let anyone, especially someone under your employ, cause you to lose your grip on that power.

Oh, how wrong you were until that day—damn that fucking day.

It was right after a meeting; it wasn't as perfect as usual. You could feel the anger boiling inside you. The marketing group of the company did their work quickly, resulting in very bad reports, and handed them to Karina. You both walked to your office. Karina was more worried about your state after rescheduling the meeting and organizing one with the marketing group that day in a few hours.

"Do you want a glass of water, maybe some iced tea?" Karina asked, her voice soft but laced with concern as she watched you angrily pull the tie of your perfectly tailored suit. She couldn’t stop her eyes from trailing over your movements, very interested in the slow reveal of skin as you undid the top button of your shirt. She should have been focused on calming you down, but instead, she was mesmerized by the way your chest rose and fell with each frustrated breath.

"Karina, I'm so fucking mad," you snapped, tossing the tie onto the chair as you collapsed into it. "They had a month to do this, and the work looks like shit. Even a first-year university student could have done it better." You slammed the papers on your desk, the sound echoing through the room, but it was the sight of you sinking into the chair, head thrown back and eyes closed in an attempt to relax, that made her swallow dry.

Your fingers went to your shirt, opening it slightly at the top, revealing the valley of your breasts. Her gaze lingered there longer than it should have; she found out that she liked you like this—angry, vulnerable, undone. Her mind navigated any scenario, all of them far from being PG.

"I'm going to bring some iced tea and let you relax until the meeting with the marketing team," Karina said softly, doing a small bow, ready to escape from the reason for her thoughts. You opened your eyes at her gesture, watching her quietly.

"Don't come to the meeting with the group. You can go early today, Karina," you replied, standing up and grabbing your tie again, your composure getting calmer for your own good. As you slipped it back on, you glanced in the mirror a few feet away from your desk, your reflection staring back at you, still tense from the mess earlier. "And don’t worry, I’ll go get my tea. I need some fresh air."

With your purse and phone in hand, you walked toward Karina, stopping right in front of her. She stood still, her wide eyes following every move you made. Without thinking too much, you reached out, wrapping her in a small hug. Her body stiffened in surprise as you pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

"Thank you for everything you’ve done, Karina," you whispered. "I don’t know what I would do without you."

The sincerity in your voice lingered in the air, and before she could react, you pulled away and walked out of the office, leaving Karina standing there, frozen in place. Her mind raced, still processing the fact that you—her boss, the person she'd been secretly harboring a crush on for months—had just kissed her.

She turned slowly, her gaze fixed on your hips swaying as you walked away, the loose fabric of your office pants hanging just right. She swallowed hard, heat flooding her cheeks as her mind just short-circuited. She’d always admired the way you moved, the confidence that radiated from you even in moments of frustration. But seeing you like this, relaxed, offering a rare glimpse of your softer side—it was almost too much.

For a moment, she stood in the empty office, her fingers brushing over the spot on her cheek where your lips had touched. She replayed your words over and over in her mind. "I don’t know what I would do without you."

Her heart raced, her mind torn between professionalism and the burning attraction that she had for you. She wondered if you knew. If you felt it too, she wanted to believe in that.

Hours had passed since you kissed her on the cheek, and Karina had tried her best to focus on her work, but the tension had only grown more unbearable inside her. She watched you as you worked late into the evening, your brow furrowed as you wrapped up some final documents. The sight of you only made her more restless, making her look (or at least she thought so) more pathetic than professional.

Karina shifted uncomfortably in her seat, surprising herself when she felt her panties soaked through, even gasping softly once she confirmed it. Her body responded to the images that wouldn’t stop playing in her mind—your lips against her cheek, the warmth of your embrace, the casual dominance you exuded.

With her heart beating on her chest, she excused herself quietly, slipping out of the office and heading straight for the bathroom. She was thankful that the building was nearly empty by now, long after most employees had gone home. Her steps quickened as she entered the spacious corporate bathroom, relief flooding her as she realized there were no cameras, no one to catch her in this state.

She felt a mix of shame and desire as she jumped to the large sink, giving her back to the mirror. Her breath was shaky, but that didn’t stop her from dragging her fingers under her skirt and tugging her soaked panties aside. The cool air hit her damp entrance, making her shiver. Karina bit her lip, her fingers grazing her slit as she sat on the edge of the sink, her legs spread wide in need.

Her mind wandered immediately back to you—adding to today’s events, she thought about the way you had looked at her every time she did something right, the way your lips turned into a proud smile, and the heat of your body so close to hers whenever she needed your approval with decisions. She imagined your hands on her, how strong and sure they would feel, gripping her hips, pulling her against you.

She moaned softly, her fingers circling her clit with a slight pressure, her eyes closed, losing herself in the fantasy. She could see you now, standing in front of her, watching her with that same cocky smile you always had in meetings. Your eyes dark with lust, your chest pressing against hers as you leaned in, your breath hot against her skin.

"Fuck, just like that, boss," she moaned lowly, her other hand grabbing her clothed breast to add pleasure.

She somehow felt like a pervert, lost in thoughts that shouldn’t belong in the office. And yet, the warmth between her thighs pulsed with every memory, every word, every praise.

Karina's breath hitched as she dipped her fingers inside herself, imagining it was you, your hands roaming her body, claiming her. Her hips bucked instinctively, chasing the pleasure that was building inside her. She bit down on her lip, hard, to keep herself from crying out as her fingers worked faster, plunging in and out of her soaked entrance.

She could picture it so vividly—the way your lips would feel on hers, so sure that they were rough and demanding, the way you would push her up against the wall of your office, your body dominating hers completely. She wanted it. God, she wanted you. She wanted you to take control, to take her apart piece by piece until there was nothing left but pure, raw desire.

“Oh… Y/N…” Karina moaned, her voice barely a whisper in the empty bathroom, but it felt deafening to her ears. The way your name slipped past her lips only fueled the heat burning inside her. She pressed her fingers deeper, her slick walls clenching around them as she imagined it was you filling her, your hands all over her body, dominating her just like she craved.

Her breath came in short, ragged gasps as her hips rocked against her hand. Each stroke of her fingers was a reminder of how much she wanted you, how much she needed you to claim her. In her mind, she could feel your hands gripping her ass, pulling her roughly against you, your lips trailing heated kisses down her neck, leaving marks that only she would know were there.

“More… please,” she whimpered, her other hand teasing her breast through the fabric of her blouse, pinching her nipple between her fingers. The sensation made her arch her back, pressing harder against the cold mirror behind her. The contrast between the chill of the glass and the heat of her body sent shivers down her spine.

Karina’s movements became more frantic, her fingers plunging even deeper when she set her feet next to her in the sink, and faster inside her dripping core, imagining the moment when you’d finally snap. When you’d push her onto your desk, your eyes only on her, and tear off her clothes without a second thought. The look on your face—cocky as you took control, your lips crashing against hers in a bruising kiss, your body pressing her into submission.

The fantasy felt so real that Karina could almost taste your lips and feel the roughness of your touch as you claimed her in every way she’d dreamed of. Her hips bucked wildly, chasing the orgasm that was quickly building, her body trembling with need.

“Y/N… fuck, please…” Her voice was hoarse, barely more than a breath as her body teetered on the edge. The slick sounds of her fingers moving in and out of her soaked entrance filled the bathroom, the echo only making her wetter.

And then it hit her—a blinding wave of pleasure that ripped through her, making her whole body tremble. Her back arched violently, her legs shaking as she came hard, her walls clenching around her fingers. A strangled moan escaped her lips, and she quickly bit down on her hand to stifle the sound, her heart pounding in her chest.

She sat there for a moment, slumped against the sink, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her body was still buzzing with the aftershocks of her orgasm, her fingers still inside her, but she was sure that they were white-coated with her arousal. She slowly took them away and stood up on the floor, her hands gripping the sink when her shaky legs almost made her fall.

She stared at herself in the mirror, her flushed cheeks and slightly disheveled hair a stark contrast to the composed secretary she tried so hard to be around you. She knew that no matter how hard she tried to hide it, the desire she felt for you wasn’t going away. If anything, it was growing stronger, more unbearable by the day.

With a sigh, Karina quickly cleaned herself up and adjusted her clothes and hair, trying to shake off the guilt that always seemed to follow these moments of weakness. But as she dried her hands, one thing was clear—her need for you was far from just a passing fantasy.

Karina’s heart dropped into her stomach the moment she opened the bathroom door. There you were, standing right outside, your eyes widening slightly as you met her gaze. The air between you felt heavy immediately, the color on your cheeks giving away more than you probably intended. You knew. You must’ve heard her.

Her body froze for a split second, panic flooding her veins. She could see the flicker of curiosity, perhaps even amusement, in your eyes, but it only made her more anxious. She couldn’t face you—not after what she had just done, not with the sound of your name still lingering on her lips from the pleasure she’d just experienced.

Without a word, Karina darted past you, beyond words embarrassed. Her mind screamed at her to leave, to escape before she made things even worse. She didn’t dare look back as she sprinted toward her desk, her heart racing as she gathered her things in a hurried frenzy. She grabbed her bag and her coat, her fingers trembling as she fumbled with the zipper.

She has always wondered what would happen if you ever found out, if you would push her away or if you would give in to the same temptation that haunted her every waking thought, but it wasn’t in her plans to be this fucked.

The thoughts ran wild in her mind as she turned toward the stairs, desperate to leave the building before she had to confront you again. She couldn’t bear the thought of what you must be thinking. How long had you been standing there? Did you hear her moaning your name?

She nearly tripped over her own feet when she accidentally stumbled into the stairwell, the pounding of her heartbeat louder than her footsteps echoing in the empty space. She needed to get away—far away. Her mind was spinning, her arousal now tainted with overwhelming guilt. What had she done? What if you called her out? What if this ruined everything?

But as she reached the bottom floor, panting from both the run and the sheer panic consuming her, one thing stuck in her mind like an anchor: You had been standing there. Watching her.

Karina's hands trembled as she unlocked her apartment door, barely registering the sound of it closing behind her as she hurried inside. Her mind was a blur of panic and humiliation, replaying the moment over and over again.

She dropped her bag onto the floor, rushing to her desk. Her laptop sat in its usual spot. She wasn’t even thinking straight; she simply wanted to escape the nightmare she’d created for herself for being reckless. Without thinking twice, Karina opened it, her fingers flying over the keyboard like they had a mind of their own.

She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t face you after this. The shame was too much. She had crossed a line, and now there was no going back.

Subject: Resignation Letter Dear CEO Y/N, I apologize for my actions earlier today. I crossed a line I shouldn’t have, and I understand if you’ve lost any respect for me. I’ve been dealing with some personal feelings that I should never have let interfere with my work, and for that, I’m truly sorry. Effective immediately, I will be resigning from my position as your secretary and employee of the company. Please know that I have nothing but the utmost respect for you as a leader and a person, and I deeply regret putting our professional relationship and trust at risk. I will come in tomorrow to submit my official resignation letter and collect my belongings. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Sincerely, Yu Jimin.

She stared at the words on the screen, her chest tightening as she hovered over the send button. It felt like the only solution, the only way to escape the weight of her mistake.

With a deep breath, she pressed send.

The email disappeared from her screen, and with it, a part of her felt like it was breaking. All the late nights, all the effort she’d put into working for you and entering that company—it was all coming to an end because of one moment of weakness.

Her phone buzzed on the desk after a couple of minutes, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts. She picked it up, her breath catching in her throat when she saw it was a message from you.

CEO Y/N: Karina, we need to talk. Since tomorrow is Saturday and because of the Chuseok holiday, the building is closed. I invite you to have a meeting in my house since I don't find it appropriate to talk about this at a restaurant. This is the direction: xxx-xxx-xx, and please be there at 3pm punctually.

Her stomach dropped.

Karina stared at the message blankly. The tone of the text wasn't angry, at least not from what she could tell, but there was a seriousness in your words that sent chills down her spine. She threw her phone on the bed, not a second thought on her actions.

She bit her lip, pacing around her room as anxiety gnawed at her. She had already sent the resignation email, but this meeting seemed to complicate everything. If she didn’t show up, it would make things worse—like she was running from the situation. Going to your house? That was a whole different level of intimidation.

But there was no escaping it now. You had invited her, and Karina knew she couldn’t avoid this confrontation forever. She needed to face you, if only to try and salvage some semblance of professionalism—or at least to explain herself.

The next day arrived too quickly, and Karina found herself standing outside your house at exactly 3 p.m., her nerves threatening to consume her as she raised her hand to knock. She was dressed conservatively, trying to hide the turmoil she felt inside, but her palms were sweating, and her heart wouldn’t stop racing.

Before her hand even made contact with the door, it swung open, and there you were. Dressed casually in a pair of slacks and a simple blouse, your eyes met hers, and Karina’s breath hitched. You looked strangely calm, yet there was something intense in your gaze—too intense, which made her skin tingle.

“Karina,” you said softly, stepping aside to let her in. “Come in.”

She hesitated for a moment before stepping over the threshold; the atmosphere inside your house was warm, contrasting with the nerves she was clearly showing.

You led her to the living room, and as Karina took a seat, she couldn’t help but notice how close you were to her, your presence overpowering in the quiet space. Her pulse quickened as she tried to figure out what you were thinking when you simply sat in silence.

“You sent me an email,” you started, your tone neutral with your eyes fully on her. “About your resignation.”

Karina swallowed hard, nodding slightly, unable to find the words to speak. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, the intensity of your gaze making her squirm on the spot.

“I read it.” You leaned back slightly, your back hitting the sofa. “But I’m not accepting it.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her eyes widening in shock. “Y-you’re not?”

You shook your head. “No. I think there’s more to talk about before we make any decisions.” Your voice softened as you leaned forward once again, resting your elbows on your knees for support. “Karina… You're one of my best employees. You know how many people I had to fight for them to not give you corporate cards? I can't lose you for… that.”

Karina's heart was pounding, her pulse racing as she listened to your words. She couldn't believe what she was hearing—after everything, you still wanted her to stay. Her fingers trembled in her lap, the tension between the two of you at the mention of yesterday.

"You fought for me?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, still processing the gravity of your words.

You gave a small nod, your eyes softening, locking onto hers. “Of course I did. You’re invaluable to this company and to me. The way you handle things, how you think on your feet… I couldn’t ask for a better secretary. But this”—your eyes flicked down to her nervously fidgeting hands—“this situation is something we need to talk about."

Karina’s mouth went dry, her throat tightening, the reality of the situation settling in. She had crossed a line, and now you were confronting it head-on, yet once again, there was no anger in your voice, just a calm determination. It was the part of you that had always drawn her in—your ability to remain firm, even when things got messy.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “I never meant for you to… I mean, I didn’t think you’d see—”

“Oh, I did see,” you interrupted gently, standing up and moving around the coffee table to sit directly beside her on the couch. The closeness sent a jolt of electricity through her body. “And I’m not upset, Karina.”

Her head snapped up, eyes wide in confusion. “You’re not?”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “No. If anything…” You broke eye contact with her, your voice dropping in volume, “It made things clearer for me.”

Karina took a deep breath. The proximity between you two was almost suffocating; she even could feel heat radiating from your body, making her feel dizzy.

“Clearer?” she asked, her voice trembling.

You nodded for the second time, your gaze never wavering after looking back in. “I’ve noticed how you look at me, Karina. How you react when I’m close. I didn’t want to cross that line either, but seeing you like that…” You paused, the look in your eyes giving away how you were thinking about your next words. “It made me realize I want this just as much as you do.”

Karina’s world tilted on its axis. She had been consumed by guilt, certain that her feelings were one-sided and inappropriate, but here you were, confessing that you felt the same pull toward her. Her breath caught in her throat as she searched your eyes for any hint of uncertainty, but all she saw was sincerity.

“I…” Karina’s words failed her, her mind spinning multiple times, trying to comprehend what was happening. She wanted to say something, anything, but the only thing she could think about was how close you were—how easy it would be to close the gap between you if either of you took that step further.

"Don't say anything. You can leave now. See you at the office, and have a good Chuseok." You said, standing up, the air carrying a tension that enveloped you both like a blanket. Karina remained seated, her eyes wide, processing both your confession and the sudden cut. To her, the room felt smaller and quiet to the point that she could hear every heartbeat echoing in the silence between you.

“Wait—” Karina finally managed, her voice rising a little in disbelief. She looked up at you, desperation mingling in her face. “You can’t just leave it like that. You can’t just drop a bombshell and walk away, boss.”

You hesitated, your hand resting on the back of the chair as you turned to face her. “What do you want me to say? I’ve been trying to keep things professional, but whatever this is between us… it’s becoming impossible to ignore. And you are way too smart to know that I’m right.”

Karina stood, the sudden urgency in her movements letting you know how she was belying the vulnerability she felt. “I don’t want to ignore it. I want to understand it. I want to understand us.”

You took a deep breath, taking into consideration her words. You’d never imagined you would find yourself in this position, torn between your responsibilities as her boss and the undeniable chemistry that crackled between you. Even more, you’d never imagined yourself falling for someone. “I’m afraid of what this means. I don’t want to jeopardize your career or mine,” you admitted, softer.

Karina stepped closer, a new version of her, a determined one, shining through. “I’m not worried about that. I’ve wanted this for so long. Just… give me a chance to show you that it can work. That we can make this work.”

Her earnestness tugged at something deep within you. You wanted to say yes, to take a leap into the unknown with her. Yet, because of your positions, the risks involved—it all held you back.

“Just give me time to think,” you finally replied, not even wanting to hide the tone of regret. “I need to sort through my feelings and figure out what this means for us.”

As you walked toward your front door, you felt her gaze on your back. When you opened it, you glanced back at her. “Enjoy your Chuseok, Karina. I hope it’s a good one.”

“Okay,” Karina said, walking to where you were. “I’ll wait. Just don’t take too long.”

With that, Karina stepped out of the house, the door clicking shut behind her and leaving you surprised.

All of that led you both to this moment a month and a half later, each of you unable to keep your eyes off each other whenever you two were in your own bubble, perfectly hiding from the rest of the coworkers. At least, that’s what you were intending to do. What you didn’t see coming was Karina’s bold moves.

Karina had taken things to a new level; her outfits had transformed into a tantalizing display that left little to the imagination. The long pencil skirt that once fell to her knees now clung to her curves, shortened just enough to give a small taste; the first three buttons of her blouse were undone, showing a glimpse of her cleavage—a line that beckoned your gaze like a beautiful temptation.

During meetings, you found it increasingly difficult to concentrate. Her confidence was even more intoxicating, and every sly glance exchanged felt charged. When the office was quiet, Karina would often approach you, her steps deliberate as she approached your desk with that playful smile, a smile that you know to catalogue as one that promised trouble.

“Need a little help, boss?” She’d tease, leaning just close enough for you to catch a whiff of her floral perfume, a very common sent that made you feel shivers down your spine.

You’d look up, pretending to be busy with work, though every fiber of your being was attuned to her presence. “I’m fine,” you’d reply, your voice betraying a hint of nerves.

In the past, she would have been shy and cut it; this time, she wouldn’t even think of letting it go. As the days went on, Karina found ways to brush against you as she leaned over your desk, her hands lightly grazing your arm while she offered suggestions on projects. The massages she gave you were discreet, her fingers kneading your shoulders just enough to bring you back to the moment yet leaving you craving more. The thrill of being caught made every touch feel electric, the boundaries of your professional relationship bending with each fleeting moment.

One afternoon, as the sun streamed through the office windows, casting a warm glow over everything, and once again, everybody left, Karina slipped into your office with an almost predatory grace. She closed the door behind her, her eyes sparkling. “I thought we could use a little break,” she said, her voice a sultry whisper that made your pulse quicken.

“What kind of break?” you asked, attempting to keep your tone steady, but the question hung in the air, the fair-skinned girl leaving you waiting for a response.

With a smirk, she stepped closer, her hands finding your shoulders like she used to do, fingers digging in as she started to massage you. The pressure was firm yet gentle, and you could feel the tension of the day melting away under her skilled hands. “The kind that helps you unwind, boss,” she murmured, leaning in closer. You could feel her breath against your ear, her lips just inches from your ear.

You closed your eyes for a moment, allowing yourself to sink into the sensation. But the reality of your situation crashed back down. “Karina, we can’t—”

“Can’t what?” She interrupted, her tone teasing, and the brief glimmer of seriousness flickered in her gaze that, even if you didn’t see it at first, you thought could pierce you. “Can’t enjoy what we both want?”

The boldness of her words sent your heart racing. You opened your eyes to find her staring at you with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. “This is risky,” you warned, though your voice lacked conviction. The truth was, you wanted her—needed her—but the repercussions of crossing that line were terrifying.

“Maybe it’s time to take that risk,” she replied, her fingers pausing as she searched your eyes for a sign of hesitation. “What if it could be more than just… this?”

Her words hung between you. In that moment, with the door locked and the world outside fading away, you realized the only thing standing in your way was fear, your fear. Karina was offering you something thrilling, something that could change everything.

Taking a deep breath, you weighed your options, your heart pounding in your chest. “What do you have in mind?” you finally asked, her eyes shining as she left your shoulder alone.

"I want to take control," she said, her voice low and sultry, laced with a challenge. The way she said it sent a shiver down your spine, awakening a part of you that craved surrender.

“Take control?” You repeated, laughing a little. “You really think you can?”

"Why do you even question it? You’ll know it if you give me the chance, boss," she replied, showing a confidence that you only saw in meetings.

You arched an eyebrow, intrigued by her boldness. “And what exactly does that entail? You think you can just waltz in here and take charge?”

Karina stepped closer, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, I don’t just think about it—I know it. You’ve felt it too, haven’t you? The way I make you feel? All that tension building between us?”

Her words struck a chord within you. She was right about the tension; it was undeniable. Every encounter, every lingering touch had only added fuel to the fire. “Okay, let’s say I’m intrigued,” you admitted, trying to keep your tone light, though the seriousness of the situation settled over you like a heavy blanket. “What’s your plan?”

"I'm starting like this." Karina grabbed the back of your neck, her lips connecting with yours in a surprising kiss.

The sudden action hit you like a jolt of electricity, igniting every nerve ending as she pressed into you, her warmth enveloping you completely. It was unexpected, but the rush of passion that sent your heart to beat faster couldn’t compare. You found yourself leaning into the kiss, your hands instinctively moving to her hips, drawing her even closer.

Karina deepened the kiss, her mouth moving against yours with a fervor that took your breath away. It felt both exhilarating and forbidden, making you lose yourself in the moment. You could taste the sweetness of her lip gloss, her warm tongue spicing things up.

As the kiss lingered, you felt her fingers tighten around your neck, grounding you in the dizzying rush of desire. Every worry about the implications of this moment melted away, leaving only the raw need that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long. She pulled back slightly, her breath mingling with yours, her eyes dark with desire. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she teased, a satisfied smile playing on her lips at your state.

"Oh, shut up," you shot back playfully, your need for her burning brighter than ever. This time, it was your turn. You leaned in, capturing her lips in a heated kiss, making her turn in surprise.

Karina moaned into the kiss the moment you introduced your tongue into her mouth, starting a small fight with her. You hissed as she playfully bit down on your tongue, clear pleasure as she smiled.

In one swift motion, she pulled off the coat of your suit, casting it aside like it was nothing. The sudden exposure of your blouse made your heart race, but you didn’t have time to process it before she ripped the buttons off, leaving your blouse gaping open.

“Karina!” You gasped, shock washing over you with the expensive shirt being torn apart.

“I’m buying you another one,” she replied with a wicked grin. She busied herself with taking it off as well as tossing your bra aside, her mouth immediately finding one of your nipples.

The sensation of her warm mouth enveloping you sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You arched your back, pressing into her as she expertly teased and tugged your left one with her lips. The movements made you gasp, each pull drawing you into desperation.

Your composure was far from gone; too focused in the moment, your mind swirling with sensations as you surrendered to her completely. The office, the risk—it all faded into oblivion. All that mattered was the heat of the moment that soaked your entrance, delight at the way she took charge, and the way you willingly followed.

Her fingers moved deftly to the zipper of your skirt, pulling it down and letting it pool around your ankles. The cool air rushed against your skin, only heightening your arousal.

With your feet, you let the skirt drop to the floor, her fingers slide down your thighs, coating them with the wetness that had begun to gather quite fast. It sent a shiver up your spine, and you couldn’t help but gasp at the sensation. The anticipation was almost unbearable; you wanted her to take you, to fill that yearning space inside you.

“Sit on the desk,” she commanded. Without hesitation, you did as she said, climbing onto the polished surface. The cool wood felt exhilarating against your heated skin, and you leaned back slightly, watching her with eager eyes.

Karina started to take off her own clothes, slowly peeling away the layers that separated you. She was beautiful, her confidence radiating as she left only her bra and underwear on. With a practiced grace, she gathered her hair into an updo, ensuring not a single strand fell across her face. The sight of her—barely clothed, focused, and so undeniably in control—made your heart race.

“Karina…” You breathed, your voice laced with need, feeling how you clenched around nothing.

Without responding, she got on her knees, her face hovering just in front of your entrance. The proximity made your breath hitch, every nerve ending alive and completely ready for her.

“Are you ready for this?” she asked, although the answer was clear as day.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words, your mind too consumed with the sensation of having her so close. “Just give it to me,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Needy girl,” she replied, her eyes darkening with hunger. She leaned in closer, her breath warm against your sensitive skin, and you could feel every ounce of her intention radiating toward you.

Her tongue darted out, teasingly brushing against your entrance, sending a rush of adrenaline through your body. You gasped, instinctively pushing your hips forward, craving more of her touch. Karina grinned; she was enjoying your reaction, and with a gentle but firm grip, she held your thighs apart, making sure you were open for her.

She started painfully slow, exploring you with her tongue, swirling and teasing as she expertly drew out every moan that slipped past your lips. You couldn’t help but writhe on the desk, your body responding to every movement she made, the waves of pleasure coursing through you.

“Karina,” you gasped, the name escaping your lips like a prayer. “That feels so good; you’re doing so good, baby.”

She responded by intensifying her ministrations, adding pressure and speed as she buried her face deeper between your thighs after the praise. The world around you blurred, your mind covered in pure ecstasy. You could feel the knot of tension tightening within you each second, ready to unravel at any moment.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” she murmured against you, the vibrations of her voice sending another wave of pleasure shooting through your body. “So responsive.”

You gripped the edge of the desk, your knuckles turning white as you fought to keep your composure. It was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain any semblance of control. “I’m close,” you breathed, your voice trembling with urgency.

Her answer was her palm slapping your wet cunt; your moans got higher as she put inside two fingers with ease, “Fuck!”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as she thrust in and out, surrendering completely to the pleasure, allowing yourself to be swept away in your building orgasm. She chuckled a little before her tongue went back to work, flicking your swollen clit to push you closer to the edge.

As she worked on you, you couldn’t pass on the fact that your body was coiling like a spring ready to snap. “Fuck, baby, I—I can’t hold it,” you cried out, your voice echoing in the quiet office.

“Come on, baby,” she murmured, “Let it all out. I want to feel you come apart from me.”

Her eyes locked onto yours with a smoldering intensity as she focused on sucking the life out of your clit, the pretty view sending a rush of bliss through you. You gasped as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over your whole body. You cried out her name; Karina didn’t relent, continuing to overstimulate you through your climax, her tongue drinking every last bit of orgasm from you until you were left tired and gasping for air on the desk.

“Lay on the desk; you’re going to eat me out,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument. With a swift motion, she pushed everything off your desk, scattering papers and office supplies to the floor without a second thought. You barely registered the chaos as your heart raced.

As you settled back onto the desk, you watched her climb up, her movements showing the urgency of how badly she wanted you. The sight of her—the way she positioned herself—only added to your arousal. She leaned down, capturing your lips in a messy, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on her lips, the mingling flavors driving you wild.

She separated from you to take her panties off, making you lick your lips, beyond ready to eat her out. Karina positioned herself, kneeling on the desk at the side of your face, exposing her glistening core to you. You could see how she was clenching around nothing like you did previously, her body eager and ready for your touch.

“Come on, boss. Own me,” she urged, her voice filled with need. You grabbed her thighs, feeling the heat radiating from her skin, and pushed her down, your mouth finally making contact with her entrance. As your tongue brushed against her, her hands went straight to your hair, fingers gripping tightly as she gasped for air.

“Such a good girl,” she breathed, her words starting a fire deep within you. You could see from above how she was slowly losing it, her mouth opening to let out the sweetest moans alive.

You began to lick and tease her, your tongue exploring her folds with an eager hunger and fast pace, far from how she started. Each stroke was met with a delightful response from Karina, her moans becoming background music. Her hips instinctively moved toward your mouth, grinding herself into your mouth and urging you to take her deeper.

As you continued, you found a rhythm that seemed to drive her wild. The taste of her arousal filled your senses, becoming addictive to you in seconds. You focused on her clit, swirling your tongue around the sensitive nub, watching as her body reacted with excitement.

“Just like that,” she encouraged, her voice desperated. “Don’t stop.”

You loved the way she felt on top of you, her hands tangled in your hair even more, pulling you closer as if trying to mold you into exactly what she needed. Each gasp and moan fueled your desire to give her everything you had.

“Please, don’t hold back,” she begged, her voice trembling with urgency. “Fuck me, please.”

With a wicked grin, you lifted your gaze to meet hers, locking eyes as you plunged your tongue deeper inside her. The sight of her pleasure, the way her back arched and her breath quickened, drove you to push harder, to give her every ounce of pleasure you could muster.

Karina’s gasps turned into cries, each one a beautiful melody that blasted in the dimly lit office. You loved the power of bringing her to this point, of watching her submissive self before you. “Pussy so good for me,” you murmured against her, the vibrations of your words shaking her whole body.

“God, I’m so close,” she cried out, her voice strained as she clung to you. “Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop!”

You obliged, working your tongue with renewed vigor, alternating between teasing licks and deep thrusts as you sought to bring her to the brink. Her body quivered, her breaths coming in short, desperate gasps as she mumbled incoherent words, too fucked out to speak coherently.

“Come for me, Karina,” you urged, your voice dripping with lust as you gave spank after spank to each of her ass cheeks, causing her to jump in your face, her arousal covering the tip of her nose. “Can you also be a good slut and give me your cum?”

With that encouragement, you felt her tighten around your tongue, her body trembling with no signs of stopping. “Yes, mommy!” she cried, her voice loud and proud as she let go, her orgasm crashing over her like a tidal wave.

You savored the moment, relishing the taste of her release as it washed over your tongue. Karina’s body shook beneath you, the sound of her moans filling your ears as you continued to pleasure her just like she did, even going as far as to hug her thighs with force with no chance to escape.

“Mommy!” she screamed with a broken laugh, and you moaned in her cunt, practically making out with it. You decided to give her a break; she took that moment to relax her body.

You pulled back, gazing up at her with a cocky grin. “Such a good slut for me,” your voice was low, more focused on kissing her thighs as a reward.

Karina looked down at you, breathless and flushed, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction. “You have no idea how much I needed that,” she replied, a smile breaking across her face.

You couldn’t help but return her smile, the connection between you deeper than ever. “I think I’m starting to understand,” you said softly. Karina sighed happily before speaking.

"Let's go to my place," Her face was still showing the bliss of the moment, and you raised your eyebrow.

"Can I ask why?" you said, smiling at her state.

"I have a double penetration dildo and a strap-on I want to use on you."

─── TO THIS ANON! thanks to my baby @awqken that decided for me, here is my upgraded Karina fic, there are a few things added and a few eliminated bc they were awful (imo), but I hope you enjoy it #HAPPY PRIDE

#𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗹𝑦𝑜𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑠! ৎ ˚⋅#karina smut #wlw smut #fem reader #karina x fem reader #karina x reader #karina x you #karina x y/n #yu jimin x fem reader #yu jimin smut #yu jimin #karina x fem reader smut

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old-women-can-peg-me · 1 day ago

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Now That You’re All Gone, I Bet You Don’t Feel Lighter

Dark!Lilia Calderu X Reader

Tags: really really dark Lilia, rape/non-con, strap on sex, oral sex, vaginal fingering, squirting, non consensual drug use, kidnapping

Summary:

You go out with friends and get really drunk (even though you only had one drink), you don’t want your mum to see you like this so you go to your neighbour who just so happens to be your mum's best friend, Lilia Calderu.

You can trust her to take care of you… right?

She’s crazy but she cares about you so it’s fine (it’s really not)

A/N:

This is so fucked but it won the poll on tumblr so this is what yall get!

Please read the tags - this is absolutely dead dove.

But I hope yall enjoy this little fucked up baby of mine.

As always, not beta read, deal with the dyslexia.

Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/66330655

Enjoy

Your speech was slurred and your head hurt, Nicky had long since left with some boy he grew up with. Was it Bobby? Or maybe Billy? You weren’t too sure but the main thing was, he was gone. And you said it was fine, you’d only had one drink and felt fine. That was over an hour ago and now you were stumbling around on the sidewalk as you tried to make your way home.

Your head hurt worse than it ever had and more than once you almost fell flat on your face. Your heart hammered in your chest at the realisation that you would probably have to face your mother like this. You found yourself walking down a familiar garden path that didn’t belong to you. Herbs and vegetables and sweet smelling flowers lined the pathway to Lilia’s front door.

You could trust her, she always cared more about you than your own mother did. As your next door neighbour, you found yourself at her house more often than your own, especially when your mother was in one of her moods. You knew you couldn’t face your mom like this, knowing it would set her off on a long rant about how irresponsible you were to get so drunk even though you’d only had one drink.

Lilia wouldn’t judge, she never would.

You knocked on the heavy wooden door for a moment before leaning your face against the cool mahogany. Your eyes fluttered shut for what only felt like a second before your very cool and comfortable ‘pillow’ opened and you almost fell face first into the curly haired woman.

“Bambina?” Lilia asked, concern weaving its way into her voice, “Are you okay?”

“My mom hates when I’m drunk…” you said, your voice definitely slurred and incoherent, “can I crash here?”

Lilia’s eyes darkened at your question and your state. You were drunk, completely out of your mind drunk and you came to her because you trusted her.

She smiled wickedly at the thought of breaking that.

“Of course darling, come in.”

You smiled as best as you could and stumbled through the door, almost falling over and if it wasn’t for you grabbing Lilia’s shoulders, you would have landed face first. It was then you realised she was in a robe of some kind, silky red and half open, her chest almost on full display. Your hands were against the bare skin of her shoulders and your mouth went dry as you tried and failed miserably to tear your eyes away from her breasts.

Lilia tried to stifle her groan as best as she could, this was going to be so easy for her.

You were going to be easy for her.

“Wh-what time is it?” You asked as you managed to find your footing.

“Three in the morning,” Lilia responded, keeping your hands against her body as she led you towards a bedroom.

You hummed in response, fighting the urge to completely collapse against her surprisingly strong body.

“How much did you drink, bambina?” Lilia asked, her hand resting much lower on your back than it needed.

You’d lost the ability to speak coherently so you held up your hand with one finger pointing up and giggled at how silly it was. Lilia had watched you throw back five shots in a row at your 21st and pass a drunk test an hour later. That’s when she realised.

You’d been drugged.

She feigned anger in case you were still slightly with it and made a mental note to meet with her ‘friend’ and give him his money.

If you had been more aware, you’d have realised that Lilia wasn’t leading you towards the usual guest bedroom you stayed in. You would have seen her go past that door and head to the next one.

Her room.

“Let’s get you out of those clothes,” Lilia cooed, pushing the door open, “not that they cover much…” she added bitterly.

You didn’t really hear the last bit as you stumbled again, gripping tighter to her robe. Lilia growled low in her throat as your hand held the fabric that barely covered her breast. You didn’t realise that her hand had covered your own and pressed it against herself leaving you basically cupping her boob.

Your unfocused eyes traveled up to meet hers and if you weren’t drugged, you’d have seen the underlying darkness that sat just behind her honeyed eyes.

“What’s wrong, bambina?” Lilia asked, her voice teasing but slightly strained as she held on to her restraint, “What do you want from mama?”

You whimpered and she smiled wickedly, softly and easily guiding you further into the room. She sat you down on the edge of the bed and reluctantly pulled your hand from her chest. You whined softly at the loss, unable to form the words in your clouded mind.

“Do you want mama?” Lilia asked, her voice tight as she brushed her thumb over your cheek.

You nodded your head and whined, leaning into her touch as best as you could.

“Bambina, you’re drunk,” Lilia said, smiling as you furrowed your brows, “you’re not yourself, you don’t want this.”

You reached up and grabbed her as fast as you could but in reality your movements were slow and sluggish and Lilia had plenty of time to move and chose not to.

“I… I w-wa-want… th-this...” you managed to stammer out.

Lilia smiled with glee, you were so easy to manipulate like this and she couldn’t lie, there was something so thrilling about it. Many people would call her crazy for paying a man to drug you knowing you wouldn’t want to go home just so she could have you by her side.

But it’s not like you remembered it the past four times she did it, what’s a fifth?

“That’s a good girl,” Lilia cooed, her grip tightening around your jaw, “lay back for mama and let her take care of you.”

You nodded your head, even if your fuzzy state, you knew you could trust Lilia to always take care of you, sometimes in ways you didn’t even know you needed.

Her hands traveled up your bare stomach, growling at how skimpily dressed you always were when you went out. She knew you went out looking to get laid and it hurt her that you had to do that when she was right here. Not that you would even notice her if it wasn’t for the drugs.

She knew it wasn’t long before her plan fell perfectly into place and you would be hers and only hers.

She ripped your bra styled shirt off you with a growl and her eyes raked over your now exposed nipples, hardening in the cool air.

“You’re such a pretty girl…” Lilia cooed, “and all mine.”

You whimpered and before you could come up with a response, her lips were on yours. You tried your best to kiss her back but your drug addled mind was scrambled and it really just ended up being her pushing her tongue down your throat while you laid there.

“Mama…” you whined softly, “feels funny…”

“Oh I know bambina,” Lilia cooed, “mama’s gonna make you feel really good.

You hummed happily and relaxed against the bed as Lilia pulled your mini skirt down your legs. Her eyes caught on the black lacy thong, thankful that she had been the one to do this to you and not some creep who wouldn’t take care of you.

Lilia pulled the fabric down gently and moaned as you spread your legs instinctively. She couldn’t stop herself from kissing gently down your stomach, nipping lightly but making sure she left no marks. You moaned at the feeling of her lips on your skin, something about it feeling so familiar.

You whimpered as you felt Lilia’s tongue dart out and lick at the salt of your skin, leaving behind a wet trail down your hip bone.

“Mama…” you gasped, “please… wanna feel good.”

Lilia couldn’t help the low moan that escaped her at your words. She was done teasing, she had to have you, now. You barely had a moment to register that Lilia had given in before you felt her mouth on your soaking entrance.

She flicked her tongue over your clit before plunging it into your weeping hole and curling the muscle. You cried out as Lilia slurped at you and you couldn’t tell which moans were who’s.

Lilia ate you out like a woman starved, and she was. It had been far too long since you had gone out and she had long since realised that she needed you more than she needed anything else, even if she had to take it.

You clawed at the sheet below you, your hips bucking up in search of more, the drugs coursing through your system doubled all the sensations you were feeling and it just made Lilia hungrier. You mumbled incoherent pleas that fell on deaf ears as she held you down and fucked you with her tongue like you were the only source of water in a barren land.

You screamed as your orgasm crashed over you with no warning, your hips bucking and body spasming. Lilia didn’t stop though, she kept her tongue moving over your clit as she plunged two fingers into you.

There were tears streaming down your face from the ecstasy that your body was feeling, the pleasure overwhelming you and bordering on pain. As if Lilia could read your body - and after this many times, she could - she pulled her mouth from your clit but kept her fingers curling and pumping inside you.

“God, bambina,” Lilia groaned, “always so tight for mama.”

You whined and nodded your head as best as you could, your movements still sluggish.

“I think you want mama’s cock tonight, isn’t that right?”

Your poor brain couldn’t think of anything other than the word ‘yes’ repeated aloud over and over again as her fingers easily brought you back to the peak you had only a minute ago.

Lilia chuckled at your lack of comprehension and in the next thrust, pushed a third finger into you. You moaned loudly and the older woman just swallowed the sound as she pressed her lips back against yours. If you were more coherent, you might have moaned at the taste of you on her tongue as she licked inside your mouth.

Then again, if you were more coherent, Lilia would never get this chance.

But she would change that, it was all in place, everything she would need to take you away and make you hers. Your mother had been paid handsomely, Lilia had a cabin deep in the woods under an ex-husbands name, everyone knew she was moving into an out of state retirement home and Nicky was your only friend who would come home to a note left on the counter from you (perfect handwriting and all) saying how you were moving away. Not to mention that his mothers received a large amount of money to help with his treatment, leaving the poor boy in hospital for who knows how long.

“You’re all mine, bambina,” Lilia smiled, “mine to love, to fuck and ruin and take care of.”

Her words barely registered in your mind as her fingers continued to easily and steadily pump into you. All you could think about was the pleasure that was coursing through your veins and you knew you were close again.

“I know you’re gonna cum again,” Lilia husked, “I can feel you squeezing around me.”

You whimpered and nodded your head, bucking your hips into her palm in search of contact or friction against your clit. Lilia knew what you were doing and she was nothing if not a gracious lover so she pressed her thumb against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your face contorted in pleasure as your orgasm crashed over you for the second time. Each sound that spilt from you only spurred her on and even in your drugged state, you knew it was too much.

“Mama!” You cried, trying desperately to escape her hold, “I can’t! I can’t!”

Lilia growled and sped up her fingers, jackhammering the digits into you. Only she knew what you needed, knew just how to make your body react for her. Every time you said it was too much and every time she knew when to push to get exactly what she wanted.

You cried out again, tears streaming down your cheeks as your weakened arms tried desperately to fight off her hand. You could feel something strange coiling in your belly, like you were going to pee but not quite. You tried to warn Lilia, tried to say something but all that came out was a garbled mess as you choked on your tears.

“Mama knows what’s best for you,” Lilia growled, “mama’s going to make you squirt and then I’m going to split you open on my cock.”

Your sobs only got louder, not being able to comprehend what it was she had said through your drugged mind. You felt the pressure inside you burst and liquid sprayed from you, coating the older woman’s arm and torso. You began to cry harder from embarrassment, thinking you had wet yourself.

“Shhh, bambina,” Lilia cooed, removing her fingers from you.

“I-I’m s…s-sorry,” you sobbed, “I-I didn’t-”

“Don’t be sorry my darling,” she said softly, cutting you off, “listen to me, mama loves it when you squirt for her, making a pretty mess for me.”

You hiccuped as your breathing returned to normal, her soft voice soothing you like a warm blanket.

“S-so you-you’re not mad?” You asked, the tears still in your eyes.

“No bambina,” Lilia cooed, “I could never be mad at you.”

You smiled lazily and reached for her, wrapping your arms around her neck and trying to pull her closer to you. Lilia hummed at your need for warmth and was more than happy to give it to you. She laid down next to you on the bed and pulled you into her arms.

“Oh, bella,” Lilia cooed, “let’s take five and then I’ll bring out the strap. I know how much you love it.”

You smiled and nestled closer to the older woman, her warmth enveloping you as you pressed a kiss to her chest. Lilia inhaled sharply at the contact, her hands threaded through your hair and she held you closer to her. You trailed your lips down her chest as you cupped her breast.

You wrapped your lips around her nipple and Lilia threw her head back, a low moan escaping her. Your actions were sloppy as you tried to figure out your motor functions with the drugs in your system. Lilia slowly urged your head down until you were lazily nipping at her stomach before finally reaching where she wanted you.

“Go on, bambina,” she sighed, “make mama feel good.”

You whimpered and stuck out your tongue, reaching out to taste her. You moaned as she filled your senses, eagerly lapping at her, desperate for more. Lilia moaned loudly, her hips rolling against your face as she threaded her fingers through your hair.

“That’s right, bambina,” Lilia moaned, “let mama use that pretty little mouth.”

You moaned, the sound vibrating against her and sending pleasure through her spine. You hummed happily at the way Lilia shuddered, happy that you could return the favour.

Lilia held your head still and continued to roll her hips against your mouth, spreading her arousal all over the lower half of your face. You could hardly breathe with how she was pushing you into her sex but you didn’t care when all you could taste was her.

“That’s a good little whore, let mama use that pretty face,” Lilia moaned, her movements getting rougher.

Her moans got louder and you managed to get enough of your mind together to wrap your lips around her clit and suck. Lilia let out a low groan as her hips stuttered and you felt something that almost felt like pride bloom in your chest.

With each moan that fell from her lips and each suck you gave, your head became even fuzzier, your senses filled only with her. All you could feel was Lilia, all you could smell, could taste, could hear, could see - it was all Lilia.

And when she came, she cried your name and held you against her dripping centre, forcing you to drink up every drop of her.

When she finally pulled you away from her, you took in gulps of air and rested your cheek against her still quivering thighs. You gently nipped at the soft skin of her thighs, leaving behind little red and purple marks.

“You’re such a good girl for mama,” Lilia sighed, running her hand softly over your hair.

You hummed happily and nuzzled your cheek back against her thigh. Lilia smiled at the sight, a sense of fulfilment filling her at the sight of you resting with a smile on your face.

“Mama…” you said softly and Lilia hummed in acknowledgment, “c-can I have yo-your strap now?”

Lilia couldn’t help the groan that slipped from her at your words, at how easy it had been to condition you to what she wanted.

“Of course you can, bambina,” Lilia cooed, lifting your chin up so you could look at her, “my precious girl.”

You glowed under her praise, a wide smile on your face as she helped you up into a seated position. You found yourself in the same position Lilia had just been in with your back against the pillows.

You watched as the older woman pulled away and walked towards her dresser in the corner of the room. You nervously bit your lip as you watched her pull the harness up her legs and tighten it. Lilia turned around and your mouth fell open at the size of the toy jutting from between her legs.

“What’s the matter, bambina?” Lilia asked, a wide smirk on her lips.

You instinctively closed your legs a little at the sight, a soft noise that couldn’t even be called a whimper falling from you.

“It’s big, mama,” you whined, “I-I’ve never… not that big.”

Lilia chuckled at your obvious nervousness. It was cute. But you also said that every time, and every time she had proven that you could do more than just take it.

“Oh, poor baby,” Lilia cooed, “but mama knows for a fact that you can. Don’t you want to be my brave girl?”

You whimpered and nodded your head as Lilia moved back towards you. The gleam in her eyes could only be described as an insatiable hunger and it should have scared you but the only thing you could think about was how you were going to have her inside of you.

You felt her soft and lightly aged hands on your thighs and you couldn’t help the soft moan it elicited from you. She pressed your thighs open as she crawled between them. The tip of the strap pressed against your folds and you whimpered at the contact.

Lilia didn’t waste any time, making sure you were spread wide before pressing the strap into you. You cried out as you felt her splitting you open.

“Mama!” You cried, as she pushed the whole length into you.

Lilia groaned low in your ear, how she wished she could feel you squeezing around her. She could hardly pull out and start fucking you with the resistance your clenching provided.

“Mama!” You cried again, “It hurts! Please!”

Lilia groaned again, burying her face in your neck and sucking a dark mark into the skin. You had tears streaming down your face now and she kissed her way up to lick them off your cheeks.

“I know bambina,” Lilia cooed, “but you gotta let mama move or it’s just gonna hurt.”

You whimpered but nodded your head as best as you could. Lilia hummed low in your ear and began to move, pulling out slowly and you felt every inch.

“I know you can take it, bambina, you’ve done it before,” Lilia growled before pushing back in, “you just gotta let mama use you.”

You sobbed at the sensation, none of her words registering in your drug addled mind. She set a steady pace, fucking into you with deep and harsh thrusts that slowly but surely blurred into pleasure. You threw your head back as cries of pleasure escaped you, the feeling of the thick toy stretching you in such a delicious way.

Lilia smiled to herself as your body readjusted to having the strap in you, her own grunts of pleasure echoing in your ears as the harness pressed against her clit just right.

Lilia snaked a hand down your body, her fingers beginning to rub expertly at your clit. The action made you moan loudly as the pressure in your abdomen grew tenfold. You knew you were getting close and it only made you moan louder.

“G-gonna cum, mama,” you whimpered, “gonna cum on your cock.”

Lilia let out a noise that bordered on a growl before she bit your shoulder. You cried out as your orgasm crashed over you, waves of pleasure crashing over you.

“Mama…” you whimpered, your hips bucking from overstimulation.

“You did so well for me, bambina,” Lilia cooed, pressing kisses over the bite mark, “my precious girl.”

You hummed, your body slowly calming down from the intense pleasure that it had just felt. You knew one thing, you were tired and the weight of Lilia on top of you was so soothing.

“Mama’s gonna pull out now, bambina,” she said.

You nodded, a soft whine escaping you as the first inch began to slip out. Lilia cooed soft words of praise as she pulled out, each inch making you whimper and whine.

Once she was out, you sighed softly and wrapped your arms around Lilia, pulling her on top of you fully. The older woman chuckled and pulled herself out of your hold. You pouted, wanting to hold her close and fall asleep next to her.

“I’ve gotta clean up, bambina,” Lilia said, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

You nodded and watched as she walked towards the bathroom. She returned a few moments later, the strap gone and a small washcloth in her hand. You whimpered as she pressed the rough cloth against your thigh, your whole body still over sensitive.

“Shhh, bambina,” Lilia cooed, “let mama clean you up.”

She wiped down your thighs and between your legs before using the other side to clean your face from her cum that had begun to dry. Each swipe of the cloth was paired with words of praise and a soft kiss to your forehead.

She pulled back the covers and you snuggled under them before reaching for her.

“Sleep now, my bambina,” Lilia cooed, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, “mama’s got some things to get ready.”

You hummed and happily nuzzled into the pillows around you, tiredness overwhelming you as sleep pulled at your eyes. The last thing you saw before passing out was Lilia walking away, phone in hand.

———

You awoke to fingers in your hair, brushing through the locks while a voice hummed softly above you. For a moment, you let your eyes remain closed, content that you had found your way into someone’s bed who was more than willing to take care of you. But the more you thought about it, the more you realised you didn’t remember.

You didn’t remember leaving the club, or getting into a car or even walking with someone. You had no idea how you’d ended up in someone’s bed. Panic began to set in and you tried to sit up and move out of this person's hold.

“Shhh, bambina,” a familiar voice cooed, “you’re safe.”

“Lilia?” You said, managing to turn around and face the owner of the hand in your hair, “What happened?”

Lilia sighed softly and pulled you into a tight hug.

“You’re in an old house of mine,” she said softly, “I’m going to make you so happy here.”

You furrowed your brows at her words. What had even happened? You tried really hard to remember last night, you had left the bar, drunk out of your mind after one drink. It was one drink right? You walked home but your mother would kill you for being this drunk so you went to…

The only thing that didn’t make any sense was why your body was so sore, your arms hurt like they had been held down and your thighs.

You pulled away from Lilia and looked down, taking in your appearance. You were completely naked, your chest and stomach covered in hickey like bruises, your thighs had crescent moon indents in them, some of which had scabbed over where your attacker had broken skin.

“Lilia…” you said, slowly lifting your head to look the woman in the eyes.

“My love, you really should learn to watch your drink on a night out.

#lilia calderu x reader #fanfic #reader insert #patti lupone #agatha all along #ao3 fanfic #lilia calderu #x yn #dark!lilia #dark!fic #old women can peg me

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fkinkindagauche · 2 days ago

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Treasure

This is a little PWP that fits into my Gourd Love is Hard to Find universe, but can be read as an established relationship standalone. Also using this for my "Move" prompt on my @steddiebingo Round One 2025 card.

Cross-posted to AO3.

Rating: Explicit WC: 2,369 (heh 69 heh) Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Established Relationship, Omegaverse, Omega Steve Harrington, Alpha Eddie Munson, Mpreg | Male Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Pregnant Steve Harrington, Penis In Vagina Sex, Cat Owner Steve Harrington, Foot Massage

Steve sat in a chair beside the garden, watching Eddie work. Eddie had a lot of ideas for the garden in Steve's front yard. It was shaping up to be a much bigger project this year than it had been when Steve was on his own. Steve wasn't sure all of the ideas would work, but he loved the enthusiasm Eddie brought to their home. He sat and watched as Eddie planted all manner of seeds and plant starts on a sunny early June morning.

"D'you think the pumpkins will be as nice as yours were last year?" Eddie asked, looking up at Steve. He pushed a strand of hair out of his face, smearing dirt all over his cheek.

"I think they'll be even better," Steve replied with a fond smile.

Eddie frowned at the dirt in front of him. "Probably not. And what if I'm not planting these watermelon seeds right?"

"It's not complicated." Steve pushed himself up from his chair with a groan, hand on his belly. "You just put them in the ground. Then they'll probably grow. Unless Travis comes around and digs them up." A raccoon had torn all the herbs Eddie planted out of the ground a few weeks earlier. Eddie named him Travis. Steve was pretty sure there were multiple different raccoons but Eddie called them all Travis.

"You think he would do that to me?" Eddie asked, glancing around like maybe Travis was just waiting in the trees to pounce.

"I think Travis is probably asleep right now." He walked to Eddie, looking over his shoulder at the little holes he'd made in the ground. "Those look perfectly spaced. Just put a couple seeds in each one in case some don't germinate. Then I can give the soil a soak." He bent to pick up the hose lying on the ground.

Eddie looked up at Steve with a wicked grin and raised eyebrows. Steve knew that look. Eddie was going to say something outrageous and sexual. "I'll fill the hole with my seed, all you gotta do is make sure it's wet."

Steve groaned. "That was bad, Eddie. So bad. Even for you."

"I don't know what you mean. I was just repeating your instructions." Eddie attempted to look innocent, and failed. Steve sprayed him with water.

"Arrrrrgh!" Eddie yelled, flailing his arms in front of his body in an attempt to bat away the water.

Steve laughed maniacally, until Eddie wrested the hose from his grip and sprayed him back.

"Eddie!" Steve yelped.

"You started it," Eddie replied, without remorse.

The day was hot enough that it felt good to have cold hose water evaporating from his clothes while they finished planting. As they were wrapping things up, they heard a plaintive meow from the open window nearest the garden. Amos sat on the cat tower in front of the window, staring out at them.

"That cat has terrible FOMO," Eddie said.

"The worst," Steve agreed. "He'd prefer it if I just carried him around everywhere I went in a papoose."

"You think he's gonna be jealous of little Travis?" Eddie asked, looking at Steve's belly.

"We're not naming our child after a raccoon."

Eddie shrugged. "I dunno. Travis has a lot of good personality traits - intrepid, sneaky, brilliant. Do you remember when he got into your absolutely 100% raccoon-proof bird feeder?"

"I'm pretty sure that was a different raccoon."

Eddie waved a hand dismissively. "No. It was Travis."

Steve's clothes were half-dry by the time he got inside. He peeled them off on his way to the bathroom as Amos trotted behind him meowing. Steve was covered in dirt after getting much more involved with the planting than he'd actually intended. He turned on the shower to let the water warm up. Amos jumped onto the counter and glared at the shower like it had wronged him personally. The one place he wasn't willing to follow Steve.

A few minutes into his shower, Steve heard Eddie come in from the garage, talking to the other cats in the living room.

"You think you could take Travis in a fight, Sokka my man?" Eddie asked. "Defend our noble garden?"

Steve snorted a laugh. Sokka would run away from a fight at top speed.

Eddie came into the bathroom, and Steve watched through the clear shower curtain as he gave Amos plenty of ear scritches. Eddie turned, his eyes tracking up and down Steve's body as he rubbed soap over his chest and belly.

"Well, hello, beautiful," Eddie said as he began to divest himself of his own clothes. "Fancy meeting you here."

Eddie stepped into the shower and reached for the bar of soap. Steve batted his dirt-caked hand away. "You're washing yourself off before I let you near me. You look like a kid who's been making mud pies."

"Rude," Eddie muttered, but he used the soap to wash his own hands and arms before attempting to touch Steve.

"Let me wash your hair," Steve said. Eddie had managed to get an impressive amount of leaves and grass tangled into his long hair.

Eddie stole a kiss from Steve before he turned around, licking into his mouth for a moment and lighting a little fire between Steve's thighs. Steve raked his fingers through Eddie's hair, untangling it and working shampoo into it. Eddie sighed blissfully and tilted his head back further for Steve.

Steve turned him around when he was finished and directed his head back under the water. Eddie blinked his eyes open once he was finished rinsing. He trailed a hand down Steve's chest, tweaking one of his swollen nipples. It sent a zing of pleasure straight to Steve's cunt. Eddie's hand continued down, resting on his belly. "Travis," he whispered, drawing a very non-sexual groan out of Steve.

"Absolutely not," Steve responded.

Eddie grinned. He grabbed the soap again and lathered up his hands. He soaped up the skin under Steve's pregnant belly. His hand continued further down, and Steve groaned in a very different timbre as Eddie's soapy fingers wrapped around his small cock, then continued down to wash between his folds. Steve could feel Eddie's erection pressed against his thigh as Eddie rubbed his fingers over Steve's cunt. Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie's shoulders and sank into the sensation.

Eddie kissed Steve's neck as he thoroughly cleaned Steve's labia and cock and continued back to his taint and asshole. Eddie bit over the mating bite he'd left on Steve's neck, then sucked it firmly into his mouth. Steve's insides twisted with want. He needed more, but his feet hurt like hell, and his lower back was beginning to ache.

"Need you to fuck me," Steve whispered into Eddie's hair.

"Mmhmm." Eddie rubbed his cock against Steve's thigh. "Turn around."

"Not here," Steve whined. "My feet."

"Ah, of course, sorry baby." Eddie grabbed the shower head off its handle and made quick work of rinsing all the soap off of Steve. He helped Steve dry off, getting all the areas that were difficult for Steve to reach now that his belly had gotten so big. Amos moved across the counter to butt his head against Steve's hand.

Eddie got distracted by Steve's cunt again, rubbing it over and over again with the towel as Steve squirmed.

"Bed," Steve insisted after another violent twinge from his feet. Plantar fasciitis was the worst.

Eddie hung up the towel and gave Steve his arm as Steve hobbled over to the bedroom. He helped Steve into the bed and sat down near his feet. He pulled both feet into his lap and started to massage the left foot, pushing his thumbs firmly into the arch and rubbing. Steve let out a stuttering sort of whistle, like a dysfunctional tea kettle. It felt amazing in the most painful sort of way. He collapsed further back into the bed, melting into the mattress.

Eddie kept going for blissful, excruciating minutes. Steve heard a pop and crackle every once in a while as something released in one of his feet. Eddie continued to massage a foot as he leaned forward and kissed the skin of Steve's calf. Steve sighed as Eddie kissed all over his lower legs. His arousal had faded during the foot massage, but it was coming back now. Heat pooled in his belly, and he felt slick starting to leak out of his cunt.

He pressed himself up on his elbows so he could look down at Eddie. He twitched a foot. Eddie looked up from where his face was buried in Steve's left calf.

"Enough with the feet," Steve said. "Come up here."

Eddie dropped his foot and moved up Steve's body with lightning speed. His erection had also flagged during the foot massage. Steve reached down to wrap a hand around Eddie's cock. It quickly filled out again as Steve stroked.

Eddie kissed Steve, sliding his tongue between his lips. Steve met Eddie's tongue with his own. He tangled them together as he tasted the unique flavor of Eddie's mouth. Eddie slid a hand around Steve's belly and down to his cunt. His fingers moved easily through the ample slick collecting there.

"You're so wet, baby," Eddie cooed against Steve's lips. "You need this bad?"

"Yessss," Steve hissed, wiggling his hips in an attempt to get Eddie's fingers inside. Eddie kissed the delicate, sensitive skin behind Steve's ear. He nipped at it, and Steve's hips jolted. "Eddieeeee," Steve whined. "Stop teasing. Need to get fucked."

Steve had never been this needy outside of a heat until he'd gotten pregnant. Had never felt such an overwhelming desire to have something inside of him. It didn't make any sense; he was already pregnant, why was his body trying to get him more pregnant? But he'd learned to stop overanalyzing, and let the sensations roll over him. It wasn't like Eddie was complaining.

"Turn onto your side, love," Eddie whispered against the shell of Steve's ear. Steve shivered at the feel of the air blowing past his ear, at the brush of Eddie's soft lips. He turned onto his side, and Eddie pressed himself against Steve's back, one hand on Steve's hip.

Eddie's cock nestled between Steve's cheeks. Steve pressed his hips back until it slid between his thighs, brushing against his labia. Eddie's hand moved from Steve's hip and over his belly until it found Steve's small cock. He dipped his hand down to gather some of the slick from Steve's folds, using it to ease the strokes over Steve's cock. Steve keened. He held his hips firmly together and pressed his cunt down against Eddie's cock. He rubbed himself frantically against it, frustrated huffs falling from his mouth.

"Shh shh," Eddie whispered in his ear. "It's okay, baby. I've got you." Eddie let go of Steve's cock to grab his own, directing it inside of Steve. It slid in easily, Steve open and slick with his overwhelming arousal.

"Ahhhhh," Steve moaned as Eddie slid deep inside of him. "Yes, fuck, yes, Eddie." The words tumbled from his mouth unbidden. It felt like something clicked into place, a piece he'd been missing, been aching for, slotting into the unfinished jigsaw puzzle of his body.

Eddie paused, giving Steve a moment to adjust. Steve didn't need a moment. He needed to get fucked. "Move," Steve growled.

Eddie huffed out a surprised laugh. "Yes, sir," he said, and snapped his hips into Steve.

Eddie moved slowly at first, his cock sliding shallowly in and out of Steve. He'd never fully gotten over his worry that he would hurt the baby somehow by fucking Steve, no matter how many times Steve asked the OB to remind him he wouldn't. Steve tried to move his hips to increase the pace, but his body was too unwieldy at this point. It didn't move like it used to.

"Eddie," he said, exasperated. "Move. Like you mean it."

Eddie let out a playful growl and bit Steve lightly on the neck, but he did pick up his pace. His hips snapped into Steve faster. He pushed all the way inside him on each thrust, his bony hips pressing into Steve's ass.

Steve sighed in relief at the feeling of being filled. His pussy was so sensitive these days, he could feel each stroke intensely. The pressure of Eddie's cock against his walls was exquisite. Having Eddie inside of him quenched the frantic fire in his belly.

Eddie continued to nip and kiss at his neck as he moved inside of Steve. His hand returned to Steve's cock. Steve groaned as Eddie used his thumb and two fingers to stroke him fast and hard.

"Stevie, baby, you feel so good," Eddie panted against his ear. "You're perfect. My perfect, sweet treasure."

Steve felt tears build at the corners of his eyes. Joy swelled in his chest at Eddie's words, at the way Eddie treated his body, like he really was a treasure. Eddie's treasure. This never got old, the way Eddie made him feel.

"I'm gonna come, baby," Eddie whispered. "Gonna fill you up so good." Eddie sped up his hand on Steve's cock. Steve keened as heat built in his lower belly. Eddie bit down on his mating bite and the coiled pleasure inside of Steve snapped. Cum spilled out of his cock and slick leaked out of his pussy around Eddie's cock. The walls of his cunt clamped down on Eddie and Eddie yelped, pounding a few more erratic thrusts into Steve before Steve felt the warmth of his cum flooding his insides.

Eddie slumped against Steve's back, breathing heavily. They lay there in silence for a few moments, both covered in a thin layer of sweat from their exertion. Eddie trailed his fingers over Steve's side and hip, around his belly, down to where they were joined together at their cores.

"I put the seed in the hole after you made it wet. Think this one will take?" Eddie asked, a teasing smile evident in his voice.

Steve groaned at the return of the heinous innuendo. "I'm already pregnant, Eddie."

He felt Eddie shrug. "Never too early to get started on number two."

divider by @/saradika-graphics

Thanks to everyone who submitted asks for this one/expressed interest over WIP weekend, you made me actually finish it! In case you want to see the whole thing - @talanashta, @xocowilde, @dame-zoom-a-latte, @tinytalkingtina, @queenofshenanigans, @machtaholic, @wheneverfeasible. Absolutely no pressure to read, though!

#steddie #steddie fanfic #steddie smut #steddie fic #omegaverse #alpha eddie munson #omega steve harrington #pregnant steve harrington #mpreg #steddiebingoroundone #gourd love is hard to find #gauche writes

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rdthoughtdaughter · 3 days ago

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Unfortunately my last introductory post was spammed by rape and death threats that I received from a single trans activist, so I thought about creating a new one. With a few differences of course. It would be far more technical, for one.

My name is Ivv, I’m still in my teens, albeit it’s my last year of being a teenager. Considering this and my history with feminism theory, I’m a relatively new radical feminist. I’m open to the conversations that are open and respectful from the get go, if it’s not don’t even bother, I bite.

The set of my views:

• Anti-pornography, in any extent. It causes the commodification of women and the creation of unnatural, harmful standards- on a large scale. On a smaller scale - women in the porn are abused and assaulted. They should not be sacrificed for male satisfaction.

• Anti sex ‘work’. Commodification of women. Paraphrasing a popular feminist quote, if you argue that women can sell their bodies then by extension you argue that men can buy female bodies.

• Anti-surrogacy. Commodification of women and children.

• Anti- misogynistic language. It is normalised to use female body parts, female animals as a derogatory language, insults.

• Anti-cosmetic surgery. Beauty is a fictional concept, a social concept. Every woman deserves to live in her natural body without the conviction that there is something wrong with it. Our phenotype is caused by a causation chain, our ancestors, their environment and our environment. We have our features for a reason. If you do not have a disease and you don’t have a physical discomfort over something it is redundant to change your body.

• Pro gender abolition. Gender is a box that confines humans. Gender is not real, it is a fictional concept, a social construct. People should not associate particular expressions, styles, etc. with a single sex. Instead, people should just exist and being free in their expression, without trying to conform to a particular box.

• Pro 4b movement. A great example of women choosing and protecting themselves. Note: I’m against any negativity and scolding towards women with children/ women in heterosexual relationships. I fully believe that it is possible to find a good partnership, even with a man. I fully believe that it is possibly to healthily bring up a child and raise them as a decent human being.

• Pro abortion.

• Pro women, no matter what their ethnicity, social status or disability is. Fighting for all women, even trans identified trans females.

•Pro homosexuality and bisexuality.

My opinion on feminist branches:

• Liberal Feminism - good intention, but not effective enough due to the desire to not create a further conflict. If women are not firm about their safety and advocacy we will not be treated seriously.

• Marxist feminist- good intention, great outline of correlation between female oppression and capitalism. Yet, can be too focused on capitalism and therefore blind to other causes of female oppression that do exist. Women face systematic disadvantages all around the world, not only in capitalist societies. In the capitalist societies, female oppression also existed when those societies were still feudal, as well as before that. Female oppression is not limited to capitalism.

• Intersectional feminism - good intention, unfortunately it is understandable why it was created; many women of colour didn’t feel represented in other feminist beaches. Those branches failed them systematically. The inclusion of trans identified males is not rational to the cause.

• Choice feminism - theoretically a good intention, but absolute naïveté and simplicity. No comprehension of the social world, causation or correlation.

• Black pill feminism - absolute naïveté and simplicity. No comprehension of the social world, causation or correlation. Sex determinism.

~~~

The root of female oppression is patriarchy, a system where men are superior and women inferior. End goal is to dismantle patriarchy.

P.s: it doesn’t mean to get rid of men or to oppress them in return. The former is a fatalistic approach, that would mean that all men are beasts by nature, the latter would only continue the vicious cycle.

#radblr #radical feminist community #radical feminism #radical feminist safe #radical feminists do interact #radical feminists please interact #radical feminst #radical feminists do touch #radical feminists please touch #feminism

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lilithofpenandbook · 1 day ago

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Also, I'm sorry, but what the fuck is this Dumbledore bashing?

"Portrayed as redeemed" he IS redeemed, you absolute shopping trolley. That backstory exists to show that Dumbledore was not a perfect human and made mistakes in his past. He's a hundred years old, for fuck's sake, and his life's mission is to fight the Dark Lords even though he does not want that role, he just wants to be a headmaster of Hogwarts.

Draco? Draco was not redeemed because there was nothing to redeem. He was a spoilt boy who was privileged and he absolutely took advantage of that. He never shows any regrets for his actions, he's just frightened by how violent the war actually is because he's a kid. He does not once ever consider that he's wrong. He does not ever show any consideration for anyone. He's just a spiteful, petty bully. And sure, it's hilarious because of how childish he is compared to the very serious shit surrounding Harry, but there was nothing to redeem him with in the first place! His arc was never written as a redemption, but as him becoming aware of the true horrors of the Death Eaters. That's it. He went from being the ruler, the bully, to being a servant and bullied. Where the fuck is there supposed to be a redemption arc?

And why the fuck would he have been redeemed? There was nothing that showed him what he believed in was wrong. All he'd have learnt was that Voldemort was evil, Voldemort was cruel, and Voldemort was a tyrant. Draco never acknowledges his beliefs as wrong, all that happens is that he cannot take being on the front lines of the violence.

Dumbledore was a traumatised boy from the start because of what happened to his sister and father, like no shit he didn't like Muggles, who then grew to oppose his initial beliefs and literally fight the man he loved to stop them. Albus Dumbledore, a lonely, isolated person who grew up with secrets, who carried the guilt of potentially having murdered his sister, and who has no family, still went against the only person he had specifically because he was no longer aligned with those beliefs and went to fight him.

Severus Snape literally betrayed Voldemort and worked as a spy against him for 20 years. He was an abused half-muggle- and yes, I'm referring to him as half-muggle because everyone ignores the fact that he was born and raised like a muggleborn to a muggle father- who had nothing in the world, and as a teenager attached himself to the one thing that could have given him a purpose, only to leave of his own will only a few years later to ask Dumbledore for help and give himself up to him. And this is after Regulus was killed. After Regulus failed to betray Voldemort. After many must have failed too. He knew the risks and did it anyway, and spent years in that path.

Snape and Dumbledore ARE redeemed, you complete knob. Do you not understand the concept of a character with a dark past? Because that's what they are- morally good characters with mysterious dark pasts that get revealed. It does not change the fact that during the series, they are morally good.

Draco was never morally good. Ever.

As for Regulus, nobody treated him like he was redeemed. Nobody. He's firstly not even that important of a character, and secondly he's treated as a kid who tried to do the right thing in the end. That's all. And he fucking failed too. Draco didn't even have the courage to do that.

Draco Malfoy didn't have a redemption arc stolen from him, for fuck's sake. There's a reason he wasn't given one, and it's because he's not someone who had anything set up to redeem him! Where the fuck was he supposed to learnt his beliefs were wrong??? All he learnt was the Voldemort was cruel! He grew up raised by blood supremacists, and was happy, it was Voldemort who brought everything down, not blood supremacy! He was not distressed by guilt or because these were wrong choices, but because Voldemort's a fucking lunatic and all his followers were afraid of him! And yeah, people would have assumed he'd defected because he's a fucking 16 ywear old with no fucking spine. Not because he was q1qmorally good in any way, but because he was a kid with no real backbone.

And I'm sorry, but how dare you say "oh he refused to identify harry therefore he's brave" and then bash on Snape and Dumbledore, fuck it even Regulus? All three of them were far braver than Draco ever was. Draco did the fucking bare minimum, one fucking good act, and we don't even know if it was on purpose, and he didn't do it because he was actually a good person but because most kids will not want to contribute to murder! And it wasn't even that bold or brave, nothing suggests that he wasn't telling the truth about not recognising Harry! That's like the weakest defiance of all. Regulus, at that age, went to fucking steal from Voldemort, making his betrayal very clear and very obvious. And yes, he failed, but he still had more guts than Draco did.

Draco Malfoy was a lot of things. He was absolutely traumatised in the war, yeah, but that was him suffering the consequences of his actions, not him getting a redemption arc.

Honestly, J.K being so hellbent on giving Snape a redemption arc but not giving Draco always made little to not sense to me. Like, Draco absolutely had redeeming qualities, hell, Harry saw them in him in the books 🤡

With Snape it was like she wanted to force us to feel sorry for him and while I have complicated feelings about him, I just don't understand the disparity .

Totally agree. It’s truly bizarre and honestly a little disturbing. Snape willingly joined the Death Eaters while Voldemort was active and then later changed his views. Regulus also willingly joined the Death Eaters despite fully knowing what they stood for and actively supported their violence to the point that he had a creepy little murder shrine in his bedroom. And in Regulus’s case there’s no evidence he ever actually changed his blood purist beliefs; he probably still thought muggles were scum but concluded that Voldemort was bad for the House of Black and for pureblood society. And yet both Regulus and Snape are portrayed as characters who got a redemption arc. Kreacher fighting Voldemort in the name of Regulus is supposed to be an uncomplicatedly triumphant moment where Regulus’s “true” allegiances as one of the good guys gets a shoutout.

And let’s not forget Dumbledore who, at the age of 16, was making serious plans for violent world domination. But he too is portrayed as redeemed.

And yet Draco who did not actively seek to become a Death Eater (even though he was initially proud to get the Dark Mark), who idolized Voldemort in the abstract but was immediately horrified and repulsed by the reality of his violence, and who almost immediately regretted his choices apparently has to be evil forever. What? Draco displays obvious distress and remorse over his actions and is ultimately willing to risk his life and that of his family to defy Voldemort by refusing to identify Harry, thus buying him time to escape. Draco is so obviously not into the whole Death Eater thing that when he goes missing in book 7 Voldemort immediately assumes he’s defected. And after the war he apparently raised his son not to believe in the hateful ideologies he was raised with thus proving he genuinely changed his mind.

Draco’s crimes were milder than anything Snape or Regulus or Albus did. And yet JKR, despite writing a redemption arc for him, refuses to acknowledge it and becomes agitated at the idea fact that many fans responded to what SHE wrote. To the point that she has repeatedly made hostile, misogynist and misandrist comments about fans who like the character and even about the actor who plays him. I truly don’t get it. It makes no sense. Especially when we consider that she views other characters who have done similar but worse things in a totally different light. It’s weird and creepy. My only guess is that maybe she got upset about drarry and her reaction is actually due to homophobia. But who knows. In addition to being a bigot she’s a very strange person.

#draco malfoy #severus snape #albus dumbledore #regulus black

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cherimel · 23 hours ago

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The real kicker about some Team Black fans (ones who fail to comprehend that this is a fictional story and almost all characters have done some pretty terrible things by real life standards or they might be show only watchers) is that they claim TB are the absolute protagonists/heros in what is supposed to be a morally grey succession conflict. Why? Because Viserys was King and he named Rhaenyra his heir despite reluctance from most lords that swore to uphold her right. And "a king's word is law, right?"

Wrong.

Westeros works on male primogeniture meaning a female child can only inherit something if and only if her guardian has no living male heirs. That means Aegon II, Aemond, Daeron and Daemon all would be contenders prioritized over Rhaenyra as long as they're alive.

"Oh, but Viserys decreed it before he died and Alicent went against the King's direct wishes!"

Uh, if any of us are watching the same shows (HotD and GoT), we all know that people in place of power—especially royalty—are always to some extent marionettes to the lordships (for their support during crises) and smallfolk (to keep the realm stable) especially to prevent a coup d'état. The fact that Otto placed Aegon on that throne and not the estranged Princess who— 1) was never interested in court politics outside lording the title of Heir to the Iron Throne over anyone who breathed in her general direction, 2) went off to Dragonstone and essentially disappeared from Court immediately after marrying her uncle and made no efforts to strengthen her place in the Small Council or appear before the smallfolk — probably saved them an uproar from every corner of the continent

As opposed to this, and contradicting the laughable way in which they showed the people shouting "Long live Queen Rhaenyra" after receiving food during a shortage caused by a blockade caused by aforementioned 'Queen' (oh the irony), both Aegon and Helaena were adored by the smallfolk.

And even if that wasn't the case, who do you think the masses would support in a succession crisis? Ms. Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss "I'm the only exception to Patriarchy and it's only wrong when it comes to me" or the firstborn son of the King, however slacking and disinterested he may be as it's been tradition for centuries?

#𓊆ྀི ׂ © 𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒆𝒍 ׅ ۶ৎ ྀི𓊇 #pro team green #team green #hotd #house of the dragon #fire and blood #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #house targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #anti team black #game of thrones

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erimeows · 1 day ago

Text

Rural

Roy Mustang never gets sick.

Today, however, he is sick.

It started last night with a bottle of whiskey.

Four years have passed since The Promised Day, and still, the unending anxiety that lodged itself in his chest during the long months his team was scattered hasn’t left him. It lingers like smoke around his lungs, insidious and clinging to the inside of his ribs like a reminder that at any given moment, everything he’s tried to rebuild could fall apart again if the right person- homunculi, whatever- crosses his path.

He tries not to think about that most nights. Things are better. Grumman has been doing a decent job as Fuhrer, working to reverse all the damage Bradley did and putting the country back together piece by piece. The team is safe- Havoc is walking, Roy has his vision back, and they’re all back together, stationed in East City and working on plans to reconstruct Ishval.

Still. Most nights, that anxiety slips through the cracks of Roy’s once impenetrable composure. On those nights, the ache of powerlessness and the fear of his loved ones’ mortality sinks into his bones, and the weight of everything he couldn’t prevent- Ishval, Nina and Alexander Tucker, Maes’ death, Havoc’s paralyzation, Riza’s almost death- sits on his chest and crushes his heart until breathing feels like a luxury he doesn’t deserve.

And when that happens, he drinks- not because it actually helps, but because it dulls the sharp knife of all the memories and keeps him from reaching for the phone in the middle of the night to call her. Riza Hawkeye. His lieutenant colonel. His best friend. The only person who’d really understand, and the person whose comfort he isn’t entirely sure he is entitled to.

So, no. The alcohol doesn’t help when what he really wants is Riza. It does, however, get him to sleep when everything else fails. And he can function while hungover and miserable, but he can’t function while terrorized by nightmares and running off little to no sleep.

So, he keeps drinking, hiding it the best he can.

He wakes up at five in the morning feeling like absolute shit. At first, he assumes it’s just a hangover, the usual punishment for trying to outdrink his trauma.

He groans as he sits up from the old leather couch where he spends most of his nights even though he’s been able to afford a bed for years. Originally, sleeping on the couch was a form of self harm; it hurt him without leaving marks, and he felt like he deserved it after Ishval. Maybe he still feels that way.

It’s a matter of security now, too. Since his promotion to General, he’s faced a handful of issues, including an assassination attempt and numerous stalkers. So, he sleeps close to all points of entry with his gloves on his hands in case of an intruder. Paranoia, most would call it, but it helps him sleep at night almost as much as the alcohol does.

Even if he did want to sleep on a mattress within the peace of his own bedroom, he knows that these days, it would feel too quiet and too empty without Riza. The couch, at least, has a faint imprint of a time she once sat beside him.

She doesn’t get to visit often, both of them too wary of fraternization laws and rumors and the potential of being separated to dare cross that line. She hasn’t even seen this apartment since they moved back to East City. He wishes he would just invite her over- things are different now, the political landscape is different, and he’s certain that no one would care- not when the literal Fuhrer is making comments about how he’ll pay for the wedding and that they better ‘get married’ and ‘give him great grandbabies’ before he dies.

The only person who might care is Riza, always so hellbent on being cautious and following rules. Roy knows he would have to have a damn good excuse to ask her over.

When he stands, he finds said excuse. The room tilts. His legs buckle, and he stumbles forward, catching himself with a hand on the coffee table. Chills crawl across his skin, and he can’t tell if he’s burning up or freezing. His joints ache. His vision swims, as if his eyes are struggling to stay open against a tide of fever. For a split second, panic sets in- is it happening again? Is he losing his sight? Is there a chance that the effects of the Philosopher’s Stone are wearing off?

No, he tells himself. No, it’s not that.

He blinks and squints until the world steadies a little, though the moonlight pouring in through the windows makes his head ache and his eyes sting. His nose is running. His throat is raw and scratchy. His lungs feel tight, swollen, as if he’s breathing through soaked cotton. Mucus drips down the back of his throat. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but they’re not the usual kind that come from grief or guilt or rage- just the kind that come from his sinuses staging a full-scale rebellion against whatever the hell is attacking his body. His mouth tastes foul, and there’s a nasty film on his tongue.

Everything hurts.

Roy Mustang is sick.

Genuinely, truly, pitifully sick for the first time in what must be half a decade. Not hospital sick, but sick enough to know that he’s in no shape to take care of himself. Or maybe he just wants Riza badly enough that he’s making up an excuse instead of finding a legitimate one to have her come see him. Maybe this whole thing is a fever-drenched lie to hear her voice, to feel her touch when there aren’t the prying eyes of their coworkers forcing them to use their utmost restraint. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care. His fingers fumble for the house phone resting on the wooden surface of his coffee table. The numbers blur a little as he dials, but he could call Riza with his eyes closed. He’s had her number memorized since the day she gave it to him.

It’s early, but she should be awake. She always is- since she’s adopted Black Hayate, she’s gotten into the habit of taking him on morning runs before work. If she doesn’t pick up, Roy will simply call her work line in an hour or two.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait that long. After two rings, the line clicks, and she’s there.

“Riza,” Roy rasps, his voice hoarse and broken.

He doesn’t bother with titles or ranks. He doesn’t really have the strength for that right now. Or maybe that’s just another excuse to cross the boundaries that they’ve been so carefully maintaining all these years.

“Roy?” She says back, sounding uncertain as concern floods her tone. Roy’s heart skips a beat at the sound of his name falling from between her lips, and he wonders if she feels the same way when he says hers. It’s not the first time he wonders that, and he doubts it’ll be the last. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sick,” He explains, not needing to elaborate any further for her to understand.

“Alright… I’ll call Grumman to inform him that we’ll both be absent for a couple of days, and then I’ll be on my way. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“Just you,” Roy answers without really thinking about the implications of it, and then at the end tacks on- “And Black Hayate, if it’s not too much trouble.”

-because it’s been a few days since Riza has brought the pup into the office, and as much as Roy doesn’t want to admit it, Black Hayate is a comforting presence for him.

There’s a beat of silence on the line. Not cold, not confused, just one of those quiet moments where he imagines she’s smiling in that knowing way of hers. He likes to think that she’s already pulling on her boots, excitement coursing through her veins at the prospect of coming to see him even though the circumstances aren’t necessarily ideal.

“I can do that. I’ll be over soon.”

Then, she hangs up.

Roy lets out a sigh of relief before lowering the phone back onto the receiver and slumping back against the couch cushions, bones aching and chills dragging him down. He glances around the dark apartment and frowns.

The place is clean, but barren. Sterile. He hasn’t hung a single picture up on the walls. There are no plants, no bookshelves, no trinkets, no fuzzy rugs or fancy tapestries. Just the couch and the coffee table and the space and the shadows. The kind of place you rent to exist in, not the kind of place you buy to make a home out of. The loneliness is too loud. Somehow, the sound of cars whirring down the city streets does nothing to mend the ache in his chest that’s there any time Riza isn’t around.

This is the third apartment since the war. The first was a rundown flat here in East City, just a few blocks away- the kind with cracked ceilings and walls so thin he could hear the married couple next door fighting on a nightly basis. The second was that sterile unit in Central City, meant to be temporary, only to become his personal hell leading up to The Promised Day. And this one- this one was supposed to be nicer. Different. Permanent, maybe. A place to rest. But he still never bothered to make it a home.

The floors are polished white wood. The walls are painted a cool blue, a color that Alex Louis Armstrong mentioned was ‘beautifully calming’ when he helped Roy move his minimal amount of furniture in. The kitchen is black and white, sleek enough to look like something out of a catalogue. Roy could turn it into something nice if he tried, but he doesn’t want to try, because deep down, he still doesn’t think he belongs anywhere that Riza Hawkeye isn’t. Not until he earns it- not until the country is fixed and he’s done everything he promised her he would.

And he hates the city, anyway. He always has. The noise, the pressure, the expectation that lingers in the air like the smog on the streets. It doesn’t let him breathe. He didn’t realize how much he hated it until he left for his apprenticeship at the Hawkeye estate, where the rural little house on the outskirts of eastern Amestris gave him nothing but peace- and more importantly, his first friend, Riza.

Riza.

What will she see when she walks in here? She hasn’t seen this apartment yet. Will she recognize the emptiness for what it is? Will she understand the hollow echo of his life, how hard it is for him to imagine a future here alone when he’s spent so damn long stuck between being in the past and fantasizing about a future with her?

Will she judge him?

No. No, she won’t. She never has.

But there’s a good chance she’ll worry, because she’s too observant not to notice the sunken in couch, the liquor bottles, the empty refrigerator, and the blatant lack of life here.

The thought sits heavy in his stomach. Maybe he shouldn’t have called, though it’s too late for that. He already made the call. She’s already on her way here.

He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the couch, waiting for the sound of the spare key he gave her turning in the lock, for the sharp click of her boots against the wooden floor, for Black Hayate’s excited barks, and for the warmth of her presence to break through the dull ache of sickness and solitude.

Riza is coming to take care of him. Just like she always has. All he has to do is wait for her.

Admittedly, Riza hasn’t been in Roy’s apartment in years. The last time was when they were still stationed in central. She had dropped by to hand deliver a stack of paperwork that needed his immediate signature, lingered long enough to share a cup of coffee with him on the couch- ten minutes, if that- and then left without looking back. Nothing inappropriate, nothing personal, certainly nothing that the corrupt upper brass could twist into something unsavory. Just two soldiers doing their jobs.

Now, with her grandfather, Grumman, having served as Fuhrer for four years and the paranoia of constant surveillance mostly lifted, Riza can’t help but wonder why her and Roy have still kept that distance. Why neither of them have dared to cross a line that’s been begging to be crossed for at least ten years.

But this morning, Roy has finally crossed it- not in any romantic or grandeur way, but by simply calling her. Because he’s sick. Sick enough to need someone. Sick enough to need Riza. She wonders if he even considered calling anyone else.

As soon as she hangs up the phone, she moves quickly to get dressed in a t-shirt, cargo pants, socks, and combat boots before packing two bags; an overnight bag with her own essentials and some of Black Hayate’s food, and a second, lighter bag filled with whatever medicine she can find lying around.

If Roy Mustang is calling for help, she knows better than to assume he’ll only need tissues and sympathy. He’ll need someone to take care of him around the clock, and Riza intends to be that person.

She leashes Black Hayate, slings both bags over her shoulders, and rushes out into the early dawn. The walk is short, but every second stretches painfully long as she worries about him more and more. Roy didn’t sound like himself on the phone. He sounded small. Defeated. Scared, even though he’d never admit that aloud. Riza is convinced that this is more than him being sick, because she’s seen him laughing and in better spirits when he’s been blind, stabbed, and/or shot at. There’s something deeper going on, something other than him being sick that he needs her help with, even if he won’t admit it- and god, Riza is determined to help.

By the time she reaches his apartment, the sun is just starting to rise. She unlocks the door with the spare key he’s given her after every move ‘for emergencies’ and steps inside.

Black Hayate trots forward eagerly, tail wagging. The moment Riza unclips his leash, the pup bounds into the living room and leaps up onto the couch, splaying himself out over Roy immediately. Riza follows, pausing in the doorway as she flicks on the lamp and looks around.

It’s worse than she imagined.

The apartment is clean, technically. The floor is polished whitewood and the walls have been painted a soft, almost clinical blue. The furniture is minimal- the coffee table, the leather couch, and a table with the lamp by the doorway, all methodically arranged. But it’s the kind of clean that feels hollow and lifeless. No pictures. No decorations. No plants. No evidence of the man who supposedly lives here. The coffee table holds a radio, an old alchemy textbook he likes to reread, the house phone, and a box of tissues. That’s it. Not even a stray pen. Not even a blanket or a pillow draped over the couch for comfort.

If Riza hadn’t already seen Roy slumped on said couch, she wouldn’t know that this was his home at all.

But why is he on the couch, anyway? She knows that when they were younger, he exclusively slept on the couch- he let it slip once when he was staying in that shitty apartment with the cracked ceiling and thin walls in the worst part of the city, said it was because he was at work so often and that he couldn’t afford a bed anyway, though she always suspected it was one of his many forms of self punishment. Now, however, things are better… There’s no way that he’s still… Right?

“You should really be in bed,” Riza starts, walking towards the couch and placing her bags down by it before sitting down on the edge of the end cushion. She glances at Roy, concern etched into her features. He really does look horrible, curled up with a running nose that he keeps dabbing with a tissue, eyes red and teary, face blotchy and damp with sweat. “Sir… Please tell me you’re not still sleeping on the couch after all this time?”

Roy shrugs and blows his nose into the tissue in his hands. His voice is rough, barely even a whisper.

“It doesn’t matter.”

It does matter. It matters so much that Riza can’t bring herself to speak for a moment. She digs through the medicine bag even though she has no idea what all of his symptoms are, trying to compose herself.

“It really does. You know it does… At least to me.”

Roy sits up, his gaze flickering to the overnight bag and the medicine bag. His brow furrows.

“Were you planning on staying over?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Well, I can take the floor, if you want the couch.”

Riza freezes. Slowly, she turns to face him again.

“You’re telling me you don’t even have a bed here.”

“I… Just never got around to it, I guess.”

It’s a lie. She can hear it in his voice. A year without a bed, maybe. Two, if he were lazy. Three, if he were entirely negligent. But ten? That’s not neglect. That’s self punishment.

She leans in, brow furrowed and gaze sharp, and when the sickness on his breath is so clearly overlayed by the familiar scent of cinnamon whiskey, the alarm bells in her head start going off. Roy has had a problem with alcohol since the war. He’s done a damn good job of hiding it- he doesn’t get plastered in public, he doesn’t come to work smelling of it, he doesn’t talk about it, and he never seems hungover.

Still, Riza knows, because she walked in on it one single time- a stop by his first apartment in East City to ask him to watch Black Hayate because Fuery was unavailable and she needed to go help Rebecca Catalina with her busted AC in the heat of a horrible summer- only to find him splayed out on the couch downing a massive bottle of something that smelled like rubbing alcohol.

When she’d ripped it out of his hands and demanded to know what the hell he was doing, he’d mumbled something about needing it to sleep before passing out. And it was then that Riza realized that that was not the first time- and likely wouldn’t be the last. She doesn’t even think he remembers it with how drunk he was.

Ever since then, she’s kept a closer eye on him and his drinking, noting his weekly trips to the liquor stores where he stocks up on booze. He goes to a different shop every time to avoid being seen as a regular. He calls himself an ‘enthusiast’ even though he buys whatever strong alcohol he can get for the least cens.

Riza doesn’t know how to bring it up to him, honestly. What is she supposed to say?

Quit drinking because I love you?

Quit drinking because it’s not good for you and I can’t imagine living in a world without you in it?

Quit drinking because it’s going to get in the way of our goals? It clearly hasn’t affected that; he still has a solid reputation that’s getting better by the day, he appears to be in perfect health since his liver and kidneys seem to be momentarily protected by his youth and good genetics, and he shows up to work every day sober- or, at least, appearing to be sober. It’s never gotten in the way of anything, but it worries her- because she knows that if he keeps going like this, it will send him to an early grave.

The flipside is that she can’t pretend she’s entirely healthy either. Her night terrors have been so bad since the war that she’s tried a variety of things over the years to help, from alcohol like Roy to dosing herself with cough syrup to working out until her soul aches before finally deciding that it’s better to just not sleep than it is to hurt herself getting there.

Still, she asks-

“Have you been drinking?”

“Can you not do this when I’m sick?” Roy groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“Fine, I’ll drop it for now, but we’re talking about this again when you’re better, and neither of us are sleeping on the floor. I’ll manage on the couch with you just fine,” Riza firmly insists. When he opens his mouth to refute it, she cuts in with- “Don’t argue. You’re too sick and too tired to keep up with me, and we both know it.”

“Alright,” He sighs. He’s fully sat up now with his back against the couch and Black Hayate sprawled across his lap. “But maybe I could… Emergency order a bed or something. I could probably get it delivered by tonight? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Trust me, sleeping with you is the farthest thing from uncomfortable,” She says, stupidly, without thinking at all, but it’s true.

They’ve never slept together, and it’s something that Riza has fantasized about more than once… In both the literal and the metaphorical sense, though she doubts the latter is happening any time soon given Roy’s current condition.

“I’d laugh about that if I didn’t feel like it would come with the risk of coughing up a lung,” He smiles, weak but genuine.

“Well, you’ll have plenty of time to laugh when you’re feeling better, and I’m sure you’ll do just that. I’ll be looking forward to it,” Riza’s gaze flickers down to his hands. She wishes she could hold them. Then, she sees his ignition gloves… On… At almost six in the morning when he’s in nothing but his pajama pants. “Do you… Always sleep with your gloves on?”

“Uh-”

“No, it’s fine- I don’t know why I asked, I… I have to sleep with the lights on and a gun under my pillow. I actually used to sleep with it in my hand, but… I’ve gotten better. I even keep the safety on these days, even though part of me is scared that the second it takes to turn it off could be the difference between life and death,” Riza rambles, uselessly, and Roy just blinks at her. Right. He’s sick. Not the best time to be having these conversations. She averts her gaze, embarrassed as she feels heat take over her cheeks. “We don’t have to talk about it. Just lie down. I’m going to go make you something to eat.”

She quickly stands from the couch, flustered.

“You don’t have to do that-”

“Oh, shut it. You called me over here to take care of you, so I’m going to take care of you.”

“Suit yourself.��

With that, Riza walks into the kitchen and feels concern twist in her stomach all over again. It’s just as barren as the living room. Mismatched dishes. Plastic cutlery. One pot. A single spatula. The fridge contains little more than water, coffee creamer, milk, beer, wine, and whiskey. The freezer is full of cold packs, ice trays, and vodka. The pantry; protein bars, tea bags, coffee grounds. Dust.

God, how does he live like this? Does he even eat?

A look into his kitchen trash can tells her no, he does not. There’s nothing there but empty liquor bottles and used coffee grounds. Riza realizes that the abs he has are not from working out and eating well like she previously suspected, but from an utter lack of body fat. Skinny abs, as Rebecca would call them.

Riza gives up on the idea of cooking and uses the house phone on the kitchen wall to call in a delivery order from their favorite takeout place, Panda House. Miso soup and white rice for Roy, spicy chicken and noodles for herself, and a side of plain grilled beef for Black Hayate.

Then, she inspects the bathroom. It’s somehow even worse. Barely stocked. Expired medicine and one sad first aid kit that’s about empty amongst minimal hygiene products. She’s relieved that she brought supplies of her own, but pissed that she had to.

When Riza returns to the living room, she feels like she’s looked through every vulnerable, neglected part of Roy Mustang in just fifteen minutes. Roy must feel that way, too, because there’s a fragile sort of tension in the air now- like glass ready to shatter under the wrong touch.

She sits beside him on the couch again. Hayate is between them, thumping his tail against both of their legs, entirely unbothered.

“I ordered you food from Panda House. Thankfully, they’re open pretty much twenty four seven,” Riza explains, to which Roy’s face lights up.

“Ooh, did you get me the fried chicken? I was actually craving it just the other night, but it always feels weird eating Panda House without you, so I didn’t order it.”

“I hate to disappoint you, but fried chicken when you’re sick? Really? Absolutely not,” She scoffs and crosses her arms over her chest. “You wouldn’t even be able to eat it in your condition. I got you miso soup and white rice.”

“Aw, but that’s so boring,” He complains, pouting like a child.

Riza doesn’t dignify that with an argument. Instead, she says-

“I’m worried about you.”

Roy’s face falls.

“You don’t need to be worried,” He says through a heavy cough. “I’m fine, minus the whole being sick thing, but I’ll get better in a few days- especially with you here taking care of me.”

“We both know that’s not what I meant. You’ve been sleeping on this couch for ten years, and I… I saw the bottles. All of them. I knew that you’d been drinking, anyways, you’ve been doing it for a long time, but… I didn’t realize it had gotten this bad. Exactly how much are you drinking each night?”

“It doesn’t matter, Riza,” Roy says, his smile growing, but it’s tight with nerves that he won’t admit he has as he offers a dismissive wave of his hand. “I said I’m fine. You’re overthinking it.”

“How much? I need some sort of amount, Roy.”

“It varies,” He admits, closing his eyes as if he can’t bear to look at her while they talk about this. “However much it takes to get me to sleep. Some nights, it’s a six pack of beer. Some nights, it’s a bottle of something stronger.”

“And you can’t sleep without it?” She whispers.

“I don’t know. I haven’t bothered trying to sleep without it in a long time,” When he opens his eyes again to meet her gaze, he frowns. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to fix me so badly and hate that you can’t, even after all these years,” He hisses.

“It’s not a matter of wanting to fix you. It’s a matter of wanting you to live,” Riza argues. “That’s just not healthy, Roy. The drinking, the couch, the gloves-”

“Stop,” He cuts her off, voice cracking from the strain of his sore throat. “I can’t. Not right now.”

“Fine,” Riza relents for now, because there’s a knock on the door and she can tell that if she pushes Roy much further, she’s at risk for being kicked out of his apartment. “I think the food is here, anyway.”

With that, she stands and crosses the room, her hand already reaching for the door knob- still worried, still pissed, but relieved- because at the very least, he’s let her in, and maybe that’s something.

With that, they eat Panda House together in awkward silence. Roy can’t seem to make his heart stop pounding. The hours pass by with Riza giving him medicine every few hours and forcing him into the shower. By the end of the night, they’re still on the couch; Riza lying flat across the cushions on her back in a t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts, Roy sprawled across her with his head on her chest in nothing but boxers of his own. With the fever that’s taken over and the summer weather, it’s too hot for them to wear anything else- and yet, they’re here cuddling, because Roy can’t bear to be apart from her, and Riza clearly feels the same if her tender hands on his broken body are anything to go off of.

Black Hayate remains at the dog bed that Riza brought and placed by the door, guarding them as they wind down for sleep.

“Thank you,” Roy murmurs. He still feels like shit with his clogged sinuses, ragged breathing, and persistent cough, but he’s alive- and Riza is here, by his side, trying her damndest to make it better. “For taking care of me.”

“Of course,” She says, just like she always does when he thanks her for something, running her hands through his silky raven locks. Roy doesn’t have to lift his head from her chest to look at her face- to see if she’s serious. He knows that she means it, because he knows her inside out, even after all these years. Especially after all these years. “I’ll always take care of you, whenever you need it.”

“I know, I just-” Roy starts, and then cuts himself off, because he’s consumed by this horrible, selfish desire to just be with her.

All the time. Alone. In an apartment or a house of their own, maybe somewhere more secluded where they wouldn’t have to worry about being seen. He would have to stop drinking, of course, but it would be worth doing if it were for her. Maybe she would get to a point where she’d feel safe enough to sleep without a gun under her pillow. Maybe he’d be able to start sleeping without his gloves on his hands. And they could be together- cooking romantic dinners, dancing in the kitchen, sleeping in the same bed every night. It would be wonderful.

It’s better than he deserves. So he stops. He doesn’t say it. He doesn’t feel like he can reasonably ask that of her.

“What is it?” Riza questions, concern lacing her voice.

“I wish we could do this all the time.”

“What, me taking care of you while you’re sick?” She laughs.

“No- no, this,” He buries his face in her chest, comforted by the sound of her steady heartbeat and the feeling of her warmth through her t-shirt. “Just… Being together. The two of us. Without worrying what anyone else might think.”

“Oh,” Riza responds, and then- “Oh.”

“Sorry, was that too forward?”

“Not at all,” And her hands are on his face, making him lift his head so that he can meet her eyes. She’s smiling, something warm and bright that lights up the darkness of the living room. “I feel the same way.”

Then, she’s leaning in. Roy jerks back.

“Ah, don’t kiss me,” He lightly scolds even though kissing Riza Hawkeye is all he’s ever wanted. “I’m sick, remember?”

“Oh, please,” She scoffs, rolling her honey-hued eyes. “I’ll probably get sick from sleeping with you on the couch, anyway.”

“Well, if you insist,” Roy says. He mentally thanks whatever god may exist that he brushed his teeth after his shower as he leans up and presses a quick, chaste kiss to her lips. She kisses him back, and a chill runs through him- whether it be from the kiss or the fever, he isn’t sure. Either way, he feels a large grin take over his face when he pulls back and slinks back down to rest his head on her chest again. “There. Happy?”

“Very much so.”

With that, they settle again, and Riza falls asleep within a matter of minutes.

Roy doesn’t. Or, he can’t. Over half an hour passes- maybe more, if he’s being honest.

He hasn’t had anything to drink tonight- hasn’t had anything to drink since the whiskey from last night- and he can feel it. He’s been convincing himself for years that it’s nothing more than a sleeping aid, but when the symptoms start to hit on top of the illness that’s already working its way through his body, he realizes his drinking is, in fact, a problem. His head is pounding. His stomach hurts. And he can’t stop shaking.

He needs a drink.

He sits up, glancing at Riza’s sleeping form. She looks peaceful, long golden hair fanned out around her head like a halo, rose-hued lips parted with soft breaths, inky lashes fluttering against her cheeks. He wonders what she’d think if she knew he was about to sneak off from her in the middle of the night to go for the vodka in his freezer- no, he knows that she’d surely worry.

He hates himself for getting up anyway. He’s careful about it at least, moving off of her inch by inch so as to not wake her. He creeps into the kitchen, footsteps light until he reaches the freezer. He opens it, pulling out a bottle of vodka.

Nasty. Bitter. Scalding. Strong.

He opens it and takes it to his lips, taking a swig and cringing at the burn as it goes down. It’s too much. It’s not enough. He feels like shit and the vodka never helps. It never has. Meanwhile, Riza Hawkeye, the love of his life, is on the couch in the other room, alone and probably worried about him even in her sleep.

He shuts the freezer door and stares down at the bottle and lid in his hands, frowning. And feeling impulsive and angry and a million other things he can’t quite put a name to, he pours what’s left of the bottle down the kitchen sink and shoves it into the trash can. He bursts into a coughing fit, not from the vodka but from whatever bug he’s caught, and it leaves him hunched over the sink in tears for a solid five minutes until he hears a sound.

A whimper. Not from Black Hayate or even from himself, but from Riza. It’s a noise that he hasn’t heard in years, back in that hospital in central where they recovered after The Promised Day and she was in so much pain from her injuries that she couldn’t help but let out that exact same whimper any time she moved. Tired and sick and panicked, Roy double checks to make sure that his gloves are still on before heading for the kitchen doorway, only to collide with Riza chest first.

He catches her with a hand on each of her biceps, pulling her to him and looking down to meet her eyes. She’s frantically clutching at his chest as if trying to ensure that he’s real, looking up with tears pouring down her face.

“It’s okay, Riza,” Roy says, and they’ve already cuddled and kissed for the first time tonight, so why not pull her into his arms? He does just that, shushing her and running a soothing hand over her hair in an attempt to calm her down. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

“What were you doing?” She sniffles, melting against him and burying her tear-soaked face in the crook between his neck and shoulder.

“Just getting a drink,” And that sounds bad after the discussion they had about his alcoholism this morning, so he lies by adding on- “Of water.”

“You should’ve woken me up. I would’ve gotten it for you,” She whispers and pulls away, retreating to go grab the box of tissues before coming back to the kitchen with them. Roy doesn’t even have the energy to object when she takes one and wipes his runny nose. “I- I had this dream, and I woke up, and you weren’t there and…”

“Sorry. You just looked so peaceful while you were asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake you,” He frowns, because she had looked peaceful, and he finds himself wondering… Does she have dreams like this every night? Dreams where she wakes up and panics when she realizes he isn’t there? How is it that she gets to sleep these days, presumably without drowning herself in liquor, when she’s been through so much worse than him? “Was it a nightmare?”

Riza turns away and goes to throw the tissue in the trash, setting the box down on the kitchen counter.

“I’m fine,” She lies.

“You’re not,” He quickly retorts, not accusatory, but knowing- because just like he knows he hasn’t been fine for years, he knows that she hasn’t been fine since her father burned that horrible array onto her back.

Riza, with that burnt back of hers facing him, feeling so close through the thin barrier of her t-shirt, grips the edge of the kitchen counter and leans forward as if bracing herself.

“It doesn’t matter- you’re sick, Roy, you shouldn’t have to worry about me- this is humiliating,” For the first time in years, she cries- no, sobs- in front of him. He doesn’t even think about it before taking a few steps forward, sliding behind her so he can wrap his arms around her, holding her close to him again. “I feel so useless. I’m supposed to be here taking care of you and I freaked out and almost went for the gun in my bag just because you came to the kitchen for a drink! I thought that for one night, I could just be normal- that we could be normal, but now you’re here taking care of me and-”

“Stop it. Stop that,” He interjects, resting his chin on her shoulder and nuzzling into her hair. She smells like vanilla and warmth and something Riza that he can’t quite discern with how clogged his sinuses are, but he breathes her in regardless. “I’d take care of you like this every night if I could. If… If taking care of you is just being with you the way that I am right now, I’d be happy to do it. Even if it were hell, I’d be happy to do it.”

“Your breath smells like vodka,” She sighs, full of disappointment, but she leans into him regardless, hands still gripping the counter. “God, Roy… What are we going to do when I have to leave? Now that we’ve crossed this line?”

“No idea. Now that I know what it’s like having you here with me, I don’t ever want to let you go,” He admits, and he’s consumed by that selfish feeling again; that wanting to keep her here, with him, for the rest of their lives. That desire to never let her leave. “I wish you could stay forever. It would be easier that way.”

“Me, too.”

Within three days, Roy gets better despite multiple slip ups where he sneaks off into the kitchen for a drink to get him through. Riza goes home despite the fact that her building concern starts to roll off of her in palpable waves that permeate his apartment.

By some miracle, she doesn’t get sick with whatever it is he had.

They return to work by the end of the week. They act normal.

But deep down, Roy knows that things will never return to the way they were before. Not now that she’s seen how he lives his life when they’re apart, and not now that he knows just how much she still needs him.

Over the next few days, Riza comes to one awful, inescapable realization; living alone in city apartments has been slowly killing Roy Mustang for the last ten years. Not in any dramatic, outward way. He still shows up to work on time, still holds meetings with poise, still cracks a smile when Havoc makes an inappropriate joke, still wears the mask of a man with everything under control. He’s sharp, intelligent, and hardworking, but now that Riza has seen how he lives- truly lives- she knows better than to think that he’s completely fine. No, he’s not fine. He’s dying. And whether he likes it or not, Riza is going to breathe the life back into him.

Thankfully, the realization that Roy’s living situation is a problem comes at a time when she actually has a solution.

She’s been working on her father’s old estate for nearly two years now. What began as a chore to keep herself busy following The Promised Day- sorting through memories and peeling back layers of grief for a mother she never knew and a father who loved alchemy more than he loved his own daughter- turned into a quiet labor of healing. Room by room, she’s replaced the rotted wooden floors and pulled up the carpets. Hauled away the old furniture, destroyed her father’s godforsaken study and replaced it with a sunroom for Black Hayate. Repainted the walls, reinforced the cracked beams. She cleared out her father’s obsessive notes, burned what needed burning, and boxed away the few things that didn’t. She made the house livable.

For a while, she thought she might sell it. Then, she considered keeping it in the family, just in case she ever had children to pass it on to, before ultimately deciding that wasn’t something she wanted. She’s motherly, nurturing, loving in the way that mothers should be, but she isn’t cut out for it after everything she’s been through- just like Roy isn’t cut out to be a father- and honestly, she’s okay with that.

Now, standing on the edge of this storm that’s been raging inside of Roy Mustang for so many years, watching the years of war and terror eat away at him, she finds herself seeing the house with new eyes. Not as a remnant of pain or as something to get rid of, but as a second chance. The potential for a quiet refuge, for both of them, together. It’s located just outside East City, far enough from eastern command to breathe, but close enough to make the commute if they used his car. It’s peaceful. Rural. No neighbors for miles, no sounds of sirens or busy streets- just wind and trees and the occasional distant howl of a wolf or coyote in the forest. A place where maybe, just maybe, they can build a life together that doesn’t revolve around the horrors they’ve gone through in the city.

There’s just one problem.

The fraternization laws.

During Fuhrer Bradley’s era, they were strictly enforced- if there was even a whisper of one soldier being in a relationship with another, you were at risk for an immediate court martial. They survived that era by the skin of their teeth- careful wording, never seen alone outside of work, enough plausible deniability to keep the corrupt upper brass from suspecting their feelings and separating them entirely.

Now that Grumman is in power, things are… Not so complicated. No one seems to care anymore. Rebecca Catalina and Jean Havoc hold hands underneath the table in the cafeteria. Denny Brosch and Maria Ross are seen going on dates to the local coffee shop every Friday. Vato Falman married some military doctor that he met during his time in Briggs. It seems like, as long as you’re doing your job, everyone looks the other way- and with Roy being a General and Riza being a Lieutenant Colonel, there’s not too many people who would have the authority to discipline them for it other than Grumman himself.

Regardless, you can never be too careful, and even if it’s not necessarily a declaration of a relationship, Roy and Riza moving in together in her old family home is obvious. And while Grumman would likely encourage them rather than punish them, she refuses to act on her feelings without at least giving her grandfather the courtesy of disclosure.

So, after the work day ends, Riza retreats to the empty staff lounge and picks up the phone to dial Grumman. Much to her surprise, he picks up on the first ring.

“Sir,” She greets him, her voice clipped from the nerves.

“Ah, Riza, my dear! No need for the formalities,” He cheerfully replies. “What can I do for you on this fine day?”

“I have a personal issue that I was wanting to inquire about,” She starts. “If I could get your… Professional guidance.”

“Professional guidance for a personal issue,” Grumman hums, clearly amused. “Alright, just what has that boy Mustang gone and done this time?”

“Wh- he hasn’t done anything- and who said this is about him?” Riza demands, embarrassed, because is it really that obvious?

“Riza, dear,” Grumman sighs with that knowing tone that only grandfathers possess. “Be serious now. I’m a busy man and I have a meeting in ten minutes.”

“Alright,” She relents with a sharp exhale. “I’ve been working on my father’s house again recently and I would like to invite General Mustang to live there with me, likely within the next month or two.”

A pause. Then-

“Ah, is this how you’re informing me of your engagement? Ooh, do I finally have a great grandbaby on the way?” Grumman asks with the giddy excitement of a child in a candy store even though he’s nearing eighty years old.

“No!” Riza exclaims, cheeks burning bright red. “I was merely… Asking for your blessing to live with him, due to the… Regulations. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“You should know that you didn’t have to ask permission, dear. I would’ve covered for you no matter what. You are my granddaughter, after all… But I have a feeling that this isn’t as simple as young love. Does this have anything to do with that bug he caught recently?”

As always, Grumman is correct, but the last thing Roy needs is for the Fuhrer to know about all of their issues. Riza closes her eyes, a small frown taking over her face.

“With all due respect, I don’t want to divulge the personal details of General Mustang’s life to you. He’s fine, it’s just… You know I worry about him with everything that’s happened. I’d feel better if I could keep him closer to me in some way.”

“Trust me, I’m no stranger to worrying about that boy… Do whatever you have to, but be sure you’re taking ample care of yourself as well. I worry about you even more than I worry about him.”

“I’ll try my best to take care of myself, but you should know that there’s really no need to worry about me. I’m perfectly fine.”

“Well, you have my blessing- and my congratulations, whether you want them or not.”

Grumman hangs up before she can argue. Heart pounding, Riza makes a beeline for Roy’s office. She finds him alone, hunched over paperwork at his desk with a pen in hand. He looks up as she enters, offering a small smile. She can’t help but wonder if he drank himself to sleep last night. If he’s drunk himself to sleep every night since she left.

“Ah, lieutenant. You usually don’t stay this late. What can I do for you?”

She pauses, shutting the door behind her.

“I have a request.”

“A request, hm?”

“Your lease is up soon, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” He nods. This seems to have gotten his attention, because he sets his pen down and abandons his paperwork in favor of looking at her. “In a little over a month, actually. Why do you ask?”

“Mine is as well, since we moved back here around the same time. I’ve been working on my father’s house again to make it- you know, livable.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d insist on helping, which you are not at all qualified to do. You would’ve slowed me down.”

“So why are you telling me now?”

Riza steels herself for the worst case scenario.

“Because I want you to move into the house with me now that it’s fully renovated,” The words come out in rapid succession, almost as if she’ll psych herself out of asking if she doesn’t do it fast enough.

“What?” Roy questions, looking like he’s not sure whether or not he heard her correctly, his charcoal eyes blown wide. “Why?”

“Truthfully, I was thinking about what you said the other night, and I came to the conclusion that I would like to spend time with you intimately outside of emergency situations such as one of us being hospitalized or sick or grieving a loved one… Like normal people, even if you could argue we don’t deserve that,” Riza keeps rambling, seemingly unable to stop now that she’s allowed herself to actually be honest with him about this. “But if you want a practical excuse that we can give to anyone else who might ask, you have a car and I don’t. It’s too great a distance for me to walk from there to here for work every day, especially with Black Hayate coming into the office so often. He wouldn’t be able to handle it. So, you’re moving in with me so that we can carpool with relative ease- and he likes you, too. I think he’d be happier if he could be with both of us every day.”

“I see you’ve really thought this through,” Roy tilts his head, and then eyes Riza up and down, as if trying to see right through her. Apparently, whatever he sees, he likes- because seconds later, he’s offering her a smile and a nod of agreement. “Alright, then. We’ll move in together.”

At that, Riza’s eyebrows shoot straight up. She hadn’t actually expected him to agree, let alone so easily. She assumed it would be half an hour of her trying to convince him of all of the practical benefits followed by him shooting her down until she eventually gave up and stormed out of his office with the shame of rejection burning hot in her cheeks.

“Really?”

“Really,” He nods again. “Why do you look so shocked?”

“I just… Didn’t expect you to agree to this,” She explains. “I’m strict, you know. You won’t be allowed to bring random women home like you’re probably used to.”

“Oh, please. I haven’t had a woman other than you at my place in ten years,” He scoffs.

“Oh,” She says, quieter than she’d like, because the admission makes relief wash over her in a way that’s utterly embarrassing for a woman her age.

“And you’ll have to make sacrifices, too, you know… Considering that I’ll be living with you, you won’t be able to get away with nearly as much.”

“No?”

“Oh, no. I’m going to be incredibly annoying,” Roy’s smirk turns into a full on beaming grin, and his words start to come out faster and faster as if the mere idea of it excites him to no end. “I’ll cook breakfast to make sure that you actually consume something other than coffee, keep you from staying up all night to work on paperwork- yes, I know about that- hell, I’ll even cook you dinner. You’ll be forced to eat three meals a day and get adequate rest.”

“Well, I’ll be even more annoying,” Riza argues as she becomes increasingly flustered by his forwardness. “I won’t let you drink or smoke in the house. You’ll have to give up alcohol entirely.”

Riza expects Roy to at least hesitate if not argue about that entirely, but he doesn’t.

“And I won’t let you ignore the way your scars hurt when the weather gets bad,” He knows about that, too? How!? She’s never even told him that! “I may even be forced to rub your back for you.”

“And I’ll- I’ll make you join me for my morning runs with Black Hayate to ensure that you stay in good shape so we can live a long, healthy life together!”

“And I’ll make you take actual showers instead of doing that thing where you come into work at six in the morning and wash your hair in the bathroom sink because you get too depressed to take care of yourself,” Roy retorts. Riza freezes in place, glaring at him. “What, didn’t think I noticed that either?”

“Shut up- if you don’t watch yourself, I’ll make you shower with me!” Oh no. That’s not how she meant for that to come out, but now, Roy is covering his mouth with his hand to try and hide the laughter that he’s surely about to burst into. “I mean, um-”

“Showering together? How scandalous,” He manages to get the words out between a fit of chuckles. “You win, lieutenant. I’ll call to let my landlord know that I’m breaking the lease. You better do the same.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Riza?”

At the sound of her name falling from his lips, Riza pauses, her chest suddenly flooded with warmth.

“What is it?”

“If we’re going to be sharing a house… Showering together… Kissing… You should really drop the ‘sir’ when we’re alone,” He teases.

“Ah. Yes, s-” When she realizes that she’s about to do it again, she clears her throat and corrects herself. “I mean, alright… Roy.”

“There you go,” He grins. “Have a good night.”

“You as well.”

With that, she turns and walks out of the office- heart light, head spinning.

Now… How to prepare for a move to the countryside…

And so, Roy moves in.

The adjustment is both heaven and hell.

He no longer has to miss her- no more empty apartments, no more lonely nights wondering if he’s going to get a late night phone call about her demise like he did with Maes, no more praying that she’s alive and well and thinking about him too- but quitting drinking is perhaps the hardest thing he’s ever done, especially when he’s not allowed to replace it with smoking or any other self destructive habits.

They take more time off work while he detoxes. A few days stretch into a week, maybe more. Roy has been drinking for so long that he doesn’t realize how dependent he is on it to function until he stubbornly insists on going off of the stuff cold turkey. He spends most of that time curled up on his old leather couch that they’ve since put in the living room of the estate, gritting his teeth through the tremors and cold sweats and vomiting fits. He shakes so hard some nights that he worries he’ll break apart entirely, but Black Hayate lays across his legs as if to keep him earthbound and Riza stays by his side to hold him together- steady, patient, unwavering in her care even as Roy sobs into her chest and clutches at her like a man drowning.

She’s always been his anchor. But here, in the quiet country estate where they now live- her father’s old house, resurrected and restored by her own two hands- she becomes more than that. She becomes his salvation.

The moment that he starts to feel semi-normal again, the withdrawal symptoms slowly leaving his system, Riza drags him to the queen sized bed she bought for the bedroom. After the first night he spends there with her, he never leaves.

They’re closer than ever, and yet, the shadows of their lives linger in the corners of their now-shared home. Riza still sleeps with a gun under her pillow. Roy still keeps his ignition gloves on whenever he’s not cooking, washing his hands, showering, tending to Riza’s scars, or being intimate with her. Sometimes, he forgets about it all and reaches for her when he has them on, only for her to flinch and for him to freeze mid-motion, the familiar guilt of what flame alchemy has done to her washing over him like cold rain putting out a fire..

The intimacy they’ve carved out after so many years of enforced distance is real, and it’s welcome, but there are walls that are impossible for even Roy to burn down. On Riza’s bad pain days, Roy has to pester her to show her back to him so he can massage the aches out and rub the ointment into her scars. On Roy’s worst nights, she has to peel his gloves from his trembling hands, stroke his sweat-soaked hair back from his forehead, and hold him as he cries- over Maes, over the homunculi, over the Tuckers, over Ishval. More than once, he’s woken up screaming, drenched in sweat and tears, only to find her already reaching for him, whispering to him softly even when her own voice shakes. The things she says in those moments are a blur, but Roy remembers the sound of her voice. The way it steadies him. The way it always has.

Sometimes, they argue. Sometimes, they misunderstand each other. Sometimes, they still don’t know how to talk about the things that matter- and even about the things that really don’t. Old habits are hard to break, and neither of them have ever been easy people.

But they’re together.

She’s by his side.

They’re safe.

And slowly, over the course of a few months, they begin to turn the once-abandoned Hawkeye estate into something more than just a freshly remodeled house. It becomes a home. A home with a bedroom. A bedroom with the bed they share every night. A kitchen that smells like freshly baked desserts and brewed coffee, where they’ve shared enough meals that they’ve both packed on a solid fifteen pounds a piece since the move. A porch where they sit on a wooden swing chair as the sun rises and sets, their hands wrapped around warm mugs and around each other, Black Hayate lying content in the lush monkey grass in the front yard.

They’re lying in that bedroom now, in that bed, Riza’s body draped over Roy’s and her cheek pressed to his bare chest, legs intertwined with his. The air is warm and thick with the scent of sweat and sex and summer. They’ve just made love- an almost nightly occurrence since the move- and for the first time in years, Roy has agreed to sleep without his gloves. They’re tucked beneath his pillow now, safe and within reach, just like Riza’s pistol. Small steps. Big victories. Progress.

He’s already gotten up to check the locks on all the doors and windows three times since dusk. Riza followed him each time, not because she doubted his thoroughness, but because she knew it soothed him to have someone there. She dragged him back to bed each time, curling herself around him like a personal set of armor. His heart still races. Hers is calm and steady, a soothing thrum against his ribs.

It’s comforting, this domestic sort of intimacy that they had to deprive themselves of for so long. This ability to run his bare hands down the marred skin of her back without having to worry about putting the gloves back on or about anyone seeing and reporting them. This ability to fall asleep knowing that she’s here, and that they’ll protect each other just as they always have.

He exhales, the sound soft and low as he shifts against the mattress. It feels good to sleep in a real bed. Better than he thought it would. His back doesn’t ache nearly as much anymore.

Riza’s back always will.

“I really like it here,” He murmurs the first thought that he’s let come to mind since the last time they checked the locks, one hand still resting on the burn scar he left on her all those years ago and the other running through her cropped hair. It was long for a number of years, but after a night terror about Pride wrapping his shadows around the near-waist-length strands of gold and strangling her with them, she had a panic attack that ended with her hacking it all off with the kitchen scissors. Roy had found her that night on the tile floor in a mess of cut hair and broken sobs. He’d had to help her even out the jagged ends through their shared tears before taking her back to bed. Now, it barely reaches her shoulders, but it’s still beautiful. Pretty, just as it always has been, because it’s hers. “It’s nice. Much better than living in the city.”

“Really?” Riza asks, lifting her head just enough to meet his gaze with her honey-hued eyes.

“Yeah,” He answers, and it’s true. Living here in this rural little town with Riza is better than anything he could’ve dreamed of, because while it’s hard at times, she’s here. They’re together, alive, and he’s finally able to take care of her the same way that she’s taken care of him. The secluded house surrounded by lush fields of wildflowers and massive oak trees is just an added bonus. “I’ve always felt that way.”

“Oh,” She pauses, pressing a kiss to the center of his chest that has warmth flooding his cheeks. It’s amazing, the things she still makes him feel even after all these years. “Considering that you’re from the city, I never would’ve thought that you would feel that way. I suppose it is more peaceful than your old apartment. It must be a nice change of pace.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I like that it’s… You know, rural. Peaceful, like you said. There’s something charming about it; the lack of noise, the starlight, the fireflies… And it always smells like rain and flowers,” He pauses, brushing a lock of hair away from her eyes. She smiles when he does, and it hits him like a lightning strike- just how much he loves her. How much he always has. “But I’ve always liked it here because you’ve been here. I’d be happy anywhere with you- the city, the country, even hell. As long as you’re by my side… Well, it’s like I said. I’m happy.”

“Me, too,” Riza whispers. Then, she shifts, rolling off of him and curling onto her side. Roy watches as she pulls one of the many blankets on their bed around her shoulders like a shawl. There’s a pause, and then- “Do you think that you’d let me stay by your side like this? Forever? Despite everything?”

Roy’s breath catches. He sits up, gently plucks the blanket from her shoulders, and scoots beside her so he can wrap it around them both.

“Do you even have to ask?” He questions, his voice rough with remnants of sex and exhaustion but still tender in the way that it always has been for her. “I thought that was the whole idea when you said you’d follow me into hell.”

Riza huffs a quiet laugh. That was so long ago, he’s not sure she even remembers the conversation he’s referring to until she responds with-

“Yes, it was, but I didn’t know whether or not you interpreted it the same way. I never expected you to reciprocate.”

“Well, I most certainly did. I told myself that day, if hell opened beneath your feet, I’d jump in after you without hesitation. My only regret regarding that decision was never telling you that I’d made it, but…”

He trails off. She turns to look at him from over her shoulder, brow furrowed with concern.

“But what?”

“I’m glad I followed you here instead,” He reaches for her hand, intertwining their fingers. Skin to skin, scars to scars, heart to heart. Years of pain and love and guilt all wrapped up in a single, steady touch. “I know that we could sit here and argue about whether or not we really deserve this, but I don’t want to do that anymore. I just want this- you, us. Right here, right now. I wouldn’t change any of it, Riza.”

For a moment, she just stares at him like she can’t quite believe that he’s real. And then, she smiles. Not the tight-lipped smiles that she gives strangers or coworkers she hates, or the bittersweet smile she offers when she’s pretending she’s fine even though she’s not, or even the reassuring smile she offers when Roy is at his worst.

This smile is wide. Radiant. Unmistakably happy. This smile is the one that he’s been seeing a lot more since they moved into this rural countryside house- no, home, he decides. And when she says-

“Neither would I.”

-he smiles, too.

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