#i still pierce things to cope

[feyti-odinsdottir]

People younger than me: *getting married* *buying houses* *having children*

Me: and for my next piercing *throws dart blindfolded at my face*

[steampoweredskeleton]

.

Ignore

[assassinsblade]

Arrows and Ashes | 3

Azriel's determined to help you get better. You are determined that you are fine.

WC: 3.6k

Warnings: Pining, friends to lovers, injuries, fluff, some brief unhealthy coping, self-deprecation.

a/n: If you would like notifications for my writing, you can turn on notifications for the blog @assassinslibrary where I reblog all my fics!

Part 1 Part 2

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Azriel couldn't sleep. All night, he stayed by your side, watching your back rise and fall with each breath. He counted them, making sure you were getting enough air, that you were alive and well. And when that didn’t quell the pounding of his heart and the trembling of his hands, he moved closer and listened for the air leaving your lungs and the heartbeat in your chest.

He tried to read to pass the time, picking up the book he had brought in from your bedroom. But the words refused to sink into his brain, and he found himself unable to focus on anything other than you.

Any time his eyes wavered from your form, anxiety pooled in his chest. His eyelids had even become heavy with sleep, but he forced them open again, his shadows swirling around him in irritation.

He realized while sitting in silence that this was the first time you had been in his bedroom for more than a few minutes. He had known you for centuries, since he had been a child, yet he kept his room very private. You would enter occasionally when dropping something off to him, calling him down for dinner, needing to tell him something, or asking him to accompany you somewhere. But spending a longer amount of time together? Normally that occurred outside of either of your bedrooms.

Now, as you laid in his bed, your hair fanned out on the pillow, Azriel couldn’t help but feel like you were meant to be there. You occupied this space like it was your own, despite the aesthetic contrasting so deeply with your vibrant personality. It made something warm pool in his chest, a feeling that reminded him of coming home after a mission or falling asleep after a long day. A feeling he had pushed down until the past few days. One he had tried to ignore out of fear.

A soft groan pulled him out of his thoughts, and he immediately sat up straighter, his heart faltering.

You started to roll over to face away from the wall, your body moving toward him instead. But Azriel jumped to his feet, laying his hands gently on your arm to keep you from turning onto your back.

“Don’t move too much.”

His voice came out as a whisper, as if the volume could pierce you and cause you more pain.

“Azriel?”

“It’s me,” he clarified, scarred fingers stroking soft circles on your bicep. “I’m here.”

You swallowed, and he could feel your body start to tremble beneath his touch. Adrenaline shakes, he surmised -- your body still recovering from the pain and trauma it suddenly endured.

“You don’t have to say anything. You’re in my room, you’re safe. You’ve just been resting.”

Blinking as if trying to orient yourself, you tried to turn again. His strong hands kept you in place.

“Could you-“ you coughed lightly. “Could you help me turn? I want to see you.”

One of his hands moved beneath your knees and the other cradled your back, just beneath your wounds. He lifted you from the bed slightly, moving your body toward him before releasing your legs and encouraging you to turn on your right side to face him, keeping pressure off your back.

When he finally released his hands, his hazel eyes stared into your own.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he spoke softly in return. His fingers gently moved your hair behind your ear.

Your eyes traced his face in silence before you finally moved your gaze away from him, noting where you were.

“Your bed is cozy.”

Azriel had to control his facial expression so as not to reveal his confusion and concern. That was the first thing you thought upon waking?

He gave you a soft smile instead. “Can I get you anything?”

You shook your head, burying yourself further into the blankets. “No, I’m okay.”

There was no way.

But you didn't elaborate and seemed content enough to stay laying there in silence, no acknowledgement of the life-altering event that had occurred to you.

Azriel didn’t like this at all. He had expected you to wake up in pain, whimpering, asking for him or Cassian or Rhys. For you to have been in a panic over your wings, sobbing and mourning them. He had been prepared to comfort you and hold you and explain how you were safe and that those males had been torn to pieces for hurting you.

But you were acting like nothing had even happened.

It was unnerving, and the shadowsinger for once had no read on the situation.

He eyed you carefully. “I’m going to have to change your bandages in a bit.”

You stiffened, your body tensing at his words before relaxing, your eyes feigning nonchalance.

“Later,” you challenged, closing your eyes again. “Is everyone coming for dinner?”

Azriel couldn’t mask his uncertainty over the situation, his brows furrowed and fingers twitching at his sides. “I’m not sure. Are you hungry?”

“You know I’d never turn down something sweet. Do we have any of those chocolate croissants from our cafe?”

“I’ll check. If not, I’ll have Rhys bring you some.”

You smiled, and he stood from where he was sitting by your form, looking at you one last time before crossing the threshold into the hallway so he can check for something to appease your unexpected sweet tooth.

Your entire behavior was unexpected. You wanted to eat. You were smiling. Not at all hinting at the trauma you had been through.

Azriel’s job was to inflict torture onto those in the dungeons (among other tasks). He knew the trauma it caused — the pain, the nightmares, the way it would permanently break some fae. He wasn’t sure if what had happened had not caught up to you yet, if you were in shock still, or if you were pretending to be okay, unwilling to show weakness in front of him.

Both possibilities made something twist in his stomach.

He forced his feet to move away from where you curled up in bed, shutting the door softly behind him and making his way to the kitchen. It was empty still, save for the bundles of daisies Rhys had dropped off at Azriel’s request. The high lord hadn’t questioned the order for the flowers, only leaving a note with them that said they all love you.

The two large bouquets looked silly now to the shadowsinger. Of course, he was hoping they would make you happy based on your past joy from flowers, but with everything that happened? They seemed so small in comparison.

He shook the thoughts from his head, instead looking around the counters and cabinets for any sign of your favorite treats. When he found none, he wrote a letter to Rhys seeing if he could deliver some of those chocolate croissants per your request. Once the high lord knew you were awake, he would probably do just about anything you asked.

Azriel sighed in defeat, bringing one of the bouqets back to the room with him so he wasn’t empty-handed.

He paused outside of the door, trying to settle his nerves. His shadows only swirled around him in agitation, and he tried to soothe them back to his sides. Only when he went to shush them, though, did he realize why they were unsettled.

A quiet whimper sounded from the other side of the door, followed by a sniffle and a small choked sob.

Azriel immediately opened the door, not hesitating to knock or make sure you were decent. His eyes scanned the room hurriedly, noting the tossed blankets on his bed and the light spilling from the bathroom.

He walked into the entryway, body instinctually turning toward your presence, guiding him toward the cracked door on the left. You shouldn’t be out of bed without assistance, and he definitely didn’t want you to be in there crying alone. He quickly placed the flowers on the desk next to the door before he peered into the open doorway, eyes immediately drawn to your red rimmed ones. You weren’t looking at him, though. Your eyes were turned over your bare shoulder, looking at the reflection of your back in the mirror.

Your back. Azriel's stomach dropped at the sight.

He hadn’t seen it all cleaned up without the bandages yet. It was still somehow just as gruesome as when it was splayed open and bloody on that table.

The wounds were large. Crescent-shaped and still healing. They were deep, gouged into the skin, and anyone else would look at them and call them ugly, an eye-sore, a blemish marking what would have been beautiful skin. Not Azriel, though. Never Azriel. Not when he still ran his own fingers along his scarred palms when nervous.

He slowly inched the door open further, the movement catching your eye and causing you to quickly turn your back to him, your arms crossing to cover your bare chest.

It was silent, your startled eyes searching his own for some sort of reaction. Did you expect him to be disgusted by your? By your scars?

In a way, he was. He didn't think you were disgusting in any way, but the act that was committed against you, the pain you had gone through in those moments, Cassian's memories still flashing in his mind -- that was what disgusted him.

You swallowed, and Azriel was moving before you could say something. He walked around you in a way that was cautious but attempting to be casual as to not put you on edge. He didn't face your back right away, especially as he felt you stiffen as he passed your side, and instead reached toward the counter where one of Madja's creams sat.

Unscrewing the lid, he finally made his presence known close behind you, pausing to let you breathe through your nerves before gently moving the hair that had fallen back over your shoulder. You shivered at the movement, but you didn't flee. You didn't tell him no.

So he gently dipped his fingers into the medicine, bringing it carefully up to the first of your wounds, still red and angry and glaring at him as if he were an enemy. He so very gently covered one edge with the white substance. You flinched at the feeling but still said nothing, so he continued, holding his breath and waiting for you to either lash out or break down.

Neither came though.

You stood still as can be, letting him apply the cream and dress your wounds, even taking the wrap from him and around your front to help hold the gauze in place. When he finally finished, he pulled your hair back from where it laid over your shoulder, letting it flow beautifully down your back, no longer suffocating the space by your neck. Then he walked back around to your front, meeting your gaze immediately and refusing to let it go.

Azriel tried to read what you were thinking, what you were feeling. But you only blinked away the remaining tears as if you were breaking out of a stupor.

You stood up taller, putting a faux smile on your face. "No chocolate croissants? I'm disappointed, Shadowsinger. You know Cassian wouldn't have returned without them."

A sharp pain twisted in his chest at your deflection, at your so obvious false display of contentment.

"Daisy-" he started, voice low and quiet.

"Why don't we go pick some up? You can use your shadows to get us to the gate right?"

"Daisy-"

You made your way toward the door, stumbling and moving slowly with your body's new imbalance and soreness. "Then you can go see everyone else. You shouldn't have to babysit-"

"Daisy."

You halted at his tone. The strong, demanding voice filled with such concern and care.

"You don't have to do this," he said.

He couldn't see your face, but he could almost picture your haunted look as you took a moment to collect yourself, your voice shaking when you finally spoke.

"Do what?"

"Pretend." He sighed. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Taking a deep breath, you shrugged. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I just want you to feel what you need to feel. You have been through a lot, and it's not good for you to just pretend like it didn't happen."

He walked closer to you, approaching you from behind, but you whirled around before he could get too close, gripping the doorway to stop yourself from stumbling.

"Of course I can't pretend like nothing happened. My wings are gone, Azriel. They are gone. My back feels like its been shredded -- like someone took me down to the butcher in Velaris to play with. And every day I will see those scars, feel those scars. I will watch as Rhys, Cassian, and you all fly, and I will forever be grounded. I will never again feel the wind in my hair or leap from the balcony. My body is changed; half of who I am has been taken from me, so I'm sorry if I don't know who I'm supposed to be after that."

By the end of your outburst, you were breathing heavy, choking on sobs that threatened to come up. Azriel watched as you swayed, your still healing and exhausted body needing rest, and he stepped closer.

"You aren't supposed to be anyone," he started, tears filling his own eyes. "You will always be Daisy, no one can take that away."

When he reached where you were standing, you shook your head, backing up into the bedroom as tears began to fall down your cheeks.

"You don't understand-"

"You're right. I could never understand. But I still want to help. Let me help, please."

"You can't help me. You can't go back in time or reattach my wings. I’m no longer me, I’m ruined.”

Azriel lunged forward at your words, propelled by something deep in his chest to correct you, to defend the sweet girl in front of him. His eyes were wild with hurt as he grasped your face between his palms, guiding your teary eyes to his own.

“Don’t you dare say that. You are the same girl who walked out of this house days ago. You are strong and brave and selfless, and everything you have lost is proof of that. You are not ruined, you are everything.”

You only looked at him, lip quivering as you tried to listen to him and hold back your sobs.

You shook your head slightly. “I’ll never be able to fly with you again.”

“I’ll take you.” Azriel vowed, voice deep and resolute. “I will carry you wherever you’d like.”

“I can’t even walk balanced-”

“My shadows will help support you while you recover. I will help support you.”

You looked away from him, tears filling your eyes once again. The words that came next were small, insecure. "No one will want me like this."

It took Azriel a few seconds to realize what you meant, because he could never dream of not wanting you. They all had trauma and nightmares, but you were referencing your scars, your forever-marked body. Madja had been able to close the wounds, but the worst ones had scarred. The lashings that had become infected in those dungeons had scarred. Only days ago you had been scar free save for a few. Not, you had hills and valleys of rough textured skin on your back, abdomen, thighs...

And you were the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Every scar a testament to your love and devotion to your family, a testament to your strength. He wanted more than just you, he wanted to worship you. He wanted to lay you down and cater to your every need, to massage and kiss every inch of your healing body, to show you just how beautiful he found you.

He swallowed, passion and an overwhelming amount of love filling his chest. It nearly ached. He directed you to look at him again. Nearly commanded it with his grip on you.

"I want you. In every form, in every life, in every universe. You are everything."

His words were strong, confident, and warm. He was pleading with you to believe him, to see and hear the truth that was right there.

You looked at him, studied him. Azriel knew your teary eyes were watching closely for a crack in his resolute stance. You would find none, though.

Eventually you sniffed, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as you asked in a sweet but broken voice, "What if your mate had these faults?"

Azriel didn't even have time to be shocked at the question, because he was immediately retaliating against your self-deprecation. "They are not faults. They are a part of you, of your story, and of your selflessness. They encompass so much of your beautiful heart in them, they could never be a fault."

The insinuation made him angry, but he tried to tamp down those feelings. You needed reassurance, not a reprimand.

You didn't even flinch at his response. Instead, you held his gaze and tried to cover the meekness making its way into your voice by standing up straighter. Azriel held you firm, steadying your balance with his shadows and his own feet against yours.

"And you'd still be saying this? If it was your mate?"

He was surprised the question didn't have that much of an effect on him. Anyone else bringing up mates normally had him tensing, snapping, getting defensive and changing the subject. From you though, It was comforting. Natural.

"Especially if it was my mate. But they would be able to feel all of this from me too. I would make sure they always knew they were wanted. I'd tell them everyday how beautiful they are, I'd get them sweet foods to make them feel better, I'd surprise them with flowers..."

As if the words summoned your eyes to them, he saw you see the giant bouquet of daisies sitting on his desk by the door. Your eyes widened slightly, your brows furrowing and chest rising a bit more rapidly. Azriel tightened his grip on you to steady you further.

He tilted his head to bring your gaze back to his own. "You are wanted, Daisy. I loved you before this, and I love you now. I will continue to love you always. Because you are you."

His words cracked something within you, because the next thing he knew, he was catching your weight against him. Your cheek pressed against his chest and your arms wrapped around his back, and then you were letting out such a heart-wrenching sob that Azriel immediately held you as tight as he could. He wished he could take all of the pain away, all of the haunting memories and nightmares. Any threats or fears, he vowed to fight them for you. Do anything until a smile was back on your pretty face.

"I want you too. I love you too," you mumbled into his chest.

It was only a few minutes before your sniffs subsided, and you pulled back with red splotchy cheeks and swollen eyes, skin wet with tears. Azriel cleared the hair from your face, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"You're my mate."

The words were so quiet, Azriel almost missed them.

But he couldn't. How could he? Mate, you had said. Him.

He was shocked enough at the acknowledgement of a physical bond between the two of you that he probably looked absurd, but he wasn't that shocked at the Cauldron deeming you two well-suited. After all, he had cared for you as more than a friend for months now, even if he had tried not to acknowledge it in fear of rejection.

He breathed, allowing his love for you to fill his veins, fill his very heart and soul. And then he met your sparkling eyes, still slightly watery from minutes prior.

And he felt it.

Deep within his chest, it's presence slowly becoming more prominent, was a golden thread. A tether that thrummed inside of him and brought him to you. A tug nearly sent him reeling.

"Your mate," was all he said.

"Yes," you whispered, still a little sniffly. "And I'm yours."

He let out a wet, happy chuckle, tears beginning to coat his own cheeks.

"You're mine," he repeated.

He made sure you were stable before grasping your face in his hands once again, bringing his lips to your cheek, then your forehead, then your other cheek, then your nose, and then your lips. He peppered them all over your face and arms, over the lacerations. He let the warmth in his chest take over and sing a song he had never known. The song escaped his lips in the form of kisses, in the form of I love you, my beautiful Daisy, and I'm so glad you're safe.

Only once he had regained control of his actions, he let his forehead rest on your own.

"You're mine," he said once again. "My everything."

And he knew you felt it.

[charliemwrites]

Still thinking about Nikto, and that anon ask I answered just a bit ago.

Content: Dissociation/Depersonalization, Unhealthy (not harmful) Coping Mechanisms, Codependence, Trauma/PTSD symptoms, Sexual Themes

After the hallway incident you’re a bit shaken. A life of a heavy burden, but your shoulders are used to the weight; you’re a medic. But what Nikto offered you in the hallway — no, not offered, but gave, devoted. It makes it hard to breathe.

You’re not sure if what he’s seeking (or perhaps found?) is solace or penance. You don’t think you have much say in the matter really. If God asked His disciples to stop worshipping, would they?

The comparison feels too bold, even in the privacy of your own mind. Smacks of narcissism and ego. You don’t feel powerful. You feel scared. Of what it means to hold this broken, burdened man in the palm of your hand, trying to keep all the pieces together without cutting yourself on them.

Don’t be so careless with your life, you told him.

He’s taken those words as religious creed. He doesn’t storm around corners, guns blazing anymore. Doesn’t drop from heart-stopping heights to stamp-sized targets. Hes not the first one out nor the last one in anymore — though he never lets you get out first or hop in transport last either.

Suppose that shouldn’t be a surprise.

He cares for his wounds now, too. Cleans and changes them regularly, doesn’t over exert them before they’ve healed. You’re so dizzy on pride in him that you kiss the front of his mask one day, telling him “thank you”.

He grunts in something that sounds almost like shock and shakes his head at you. You figure he doesn’t feel he deserves praise for doing as you’ve told him. You do it anyway.

Things start to settle into this new normal.

Until you can’t find him anywhere. He’s become your new shadow, another limb, and suddenly he’s gone like so much smoke. You’re both fresh off a rough, but successful mission. You’ve just finished a stint in the infirmary and your debrief. Usually hed take that time to clean off and change in privacy, back before you could miss him.

Where is he?

You find him bleeding in his room, trying to care for his own wounds. Mask off, shirt gone, a new knife wound added to his macabre collection. You scramble to his side and collapse at his feet, snatching the needle from his shaky, slippery hand.

“Don’t you ever—” you choke on the words, unusual tears welling. You’re a medic; you’re not allowed to cry during treatment. But all you see if Nikto and blood and—

“I am okay,” he says in that low, crackly voice. Gravel in a blender. “It is not bad.”

You swallow and don’t answer, can’t because you’ll start weeping into his wound. Just stitch him up, hands steady even as you sniffle and the rest of you trembles.

When it’s done, you start wiping away the excess, prepping a bandage. He’s so silent you can even hear him breathing, but you feel his eyes like a physical touch. Finally make yourself look up at him meet his piercing eyes.

“You come back to me from now on,” you say. Quiet, firm, fervent. “I don’t care what it is, you return to my side always.”

The silence stretches and stretches, and he just stares with that unfathomable gaze.

“Understand?” you insist.

“Yes.”

Those two commandments become that basis of his new existence. Nikto once thought he survived it all because he still had work to do. He was wrong; it was because he still hadn’t found his purpose at all.

He’s found you now though, and you are a demanding god. But not a cruel one

Your first commandment is atonement. This vessel requires so much work. Food and water and rest. Maintenance for every abrasion, upkeep to stay strong enough to stand at your side, to protect you. It is endless, bitter work. He doesn’t care for the labor itself, but it must be done.

It is made bearable with you.

Your second commandment is salvation. Your quiet chatter during meals, the lingering taste of your mouth on his water canteen. Your kind hands mending tears and holes, keeping whatever he is now whole and hale. Your company in the gym, on sparring mats, at his side at the gun range. The smell of your sweat past the mask, your laughter goading him into another round.

You let him sleep in your bed. Let him wake you with nightmares or memories. Keep him warm because this thing he inhabits doesn’t always remember it’s not dying anymore. You are so very alive, the realest thing in any room. Your touch is the only thing he can feel sometimes.

It takes him a long time to realize that his body (because it is a body you tell him, a living one that needs care) reacts to you.

That some mornings the press of you against him is especially sweet. That there’s more than relief and pride when you pin him down. That, at most points of the day, his body wants your touch for more than just grounding.

He’s hard most times that he’s with you, simply for the fact that you are there. And he is with you almost always.

(That it is not actually always grinds at him, niggles in the back of his mind. A sticking point. He wants it to be always, you with him at all times. Like when he used to wear a cross pendant.)

You notice, of course you do, sensitive to your most loyal devotee. He can’t tell if you’re offended, but you haven’t sent him away. Sometimes you flush and he thinks he’s certainly upset you, but for all he’s survived it would kill him to break your second commandment. And so he stays, even if he waits to be told to leave.

“Nikto?”

You never need to call his name, he is always listening. He likes the sound of it anyway. These syllables and sounds that have a meaning, that you use for him.

“Do you… want to do something about that?” you nod to his crotch. There’s a blatant bulge pressing at his tac pants. At some other time, he would probably would have found it uncomfortable.

“Do what?” he asks.

You shrug. “Get off? I could leave—“

“No.”

You blink but don’t seem surprised. “Do you want to just ignore it then?”

He shrugs a bit. There’s a flicker of amusement in your eyes. You like when he makes gestures. He tries to remember common ones, and when to do them, and tries them out for you. Though you never seem to mind his stillness either.

“It does not bother me.”

You hum, look like you’re going to go back to your tv show.

“Does it bother you?”

Your eyes dart up, mouth parting in surprise. You didn’t expect him to continue the topic. Neither did he.

“It doesn’t bother me,” you reply, tilting your head. “But if you want to do something about it, we can.”

We.

“We?”

“If… if you want me to do something… I would.”

He couldn’t ask that of you. Not ever. He’s not allowed to want anything of you when you’ve given him everything.

“No,” he says quietly finally. “Just ignore it.”

“Okay.” You smile at him, touch his hand. It is bare, mangled tattoos on display. He wishes he could feel it more. “Come snuggle in?”

Snuggle in.

Such a quaint turn of a phrase for a creature in your room, wearing a man’s face. He climbs in, shoes gone, mask gone. You wedge yourself against his side and he stares absently at the screen as you continue your show.

[pseudowho]

Monster

Your colleague, Higuruma Hiromi, has seemed so tired, for so long. You'd do anything to help him...right?

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Vampire!Higuruma, blood consumption, male masturbation, female masturbation, thigh fucking, PIV, m!receiving oral, f!receiving oral, sex-pollenish/aphrodisiac effects and vampirism

(dis)honourable mention to @delirious-donna for helping me to decide on the location of this flagrant sluttiness.

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Higuruma Hiromi was driven to skin-clawing distraction by daydreams of the taste of you, in more ways than one.

You never knew this, of course. Late-nights alone in the office invariably turned into debauched scenes of Hiromi, fucking into his fist and wishing it was your pussy instead; teeth piercing his own blood from his hand and being lapped up by his whining mouth, wishing it was your throat instead. Too many times had he needed to wipe droplets of blood and milky cum off his paperwork, shuddering with the remnants of his orgasm, his cock still semi-hard in his fist.

His latest cunning plan to sate this desperate hunger, had been unsuccessful. Sat at your desk, and breathing deeply of one of the scarves you had left in your drawer, had set his cock hardening against his thigh humiliatingly fast. Hiromi had tugged at the roots of his own hair, head thrown back and growling in frustration. Fumbling around in his bag, he had clumsily slopped lube into a pocket-pussy, and withdrawn the unit of packed red blood cells he had managed to steal from the local hospital.

Messy, and sweaty, Hiromi had drunk from this pack, while the slick sounds of his frantic self-pleasuring and fractured, sandy moans filled the empty office. Your scarf, steeped in the smell of you, remained draped over his face and nose the whole time.

With each passing day you grew sweeter, and riper. He could not cope. He could not cope. He would not last.

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One day, you hoped, you might arrive in the office before Hiromi. Whatever the time of year, he arrived before the break of dawn, and left after the sun had set. Vitamin D supplements had entered into your head as the next possible way to help him, and you shook yourself for being so ridiculous-- although...

"I...you don't have to buy me coffee every morning," Hiromi whispered, something tender coiling in his belly when you slipped a large black coffee and a bagged pastry onto his desk, "let alone breakfast."

"Well," you hummed, benign, "would you eat or drink if I didn't feed you?" Hiromi narrowed his eyes, a challenging little smile within them. A scoff.

"If I lied to you, would you believe me?"

"You're a great lawyer, Hiromi. But not smart enough to lie to me."

His laughter, rich and genuine, burst in you, a stunning puff of petals. You couldn't laugh with him, as your heart stalled in place. How could you not help him, when a match struck in his eyes, just from looking at you?

"Not that I ever would." Hiromi assured, low and smooth. His eyes never left yours once. His gravity threatened to pull you straight into his arms. "Lie to you, that is. You're the only thing that..." Hiromi trailed off, clearing his throat. He looked back to his papers, pale. You missed the tremor in his hands. You couldn't feel how he held himself back from taking you, in every way, here on his desk.

If only he knew you would let him.

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How the fuck did he find himself in the driving rain, three floors up, looking through your balcony windows? How the fuck had it gotten this bad? You were a drug. Forbidden fruit. Hiromi had not drunk from a person in so long, instead surviving on a knife's edge, from stolen blood bags and wild deer. He couldn't recall what came first; needing to be inside you, or needing you inside him. It all equated to hunger, anyway. He was starved.

Even a morsel would do. That's how he found himself outside your bedroom, in a storm, watching you fuck yourself in your bedroom when you should have been sleeping. The rainwater seeped through his black suit, doing nothing to cool the hot, velvet throb between his legs. His hair was swept back off his forehead, drenched, squinting against the biting wind as he marvelled at the image of you.

Clearly, you were unable to distract yourself from the ache in your belly, and the little memories of past orgasms that throbbed through your clit. Every time the thought of Hiromi fucking into you had crossed your mind, you reached for something in your drawer that would never satisfy that urge like he would.

You lay on your belly, stretched and stuffed all the way to your cervix with a dildo and rabbit. You had spent your generous paycheck on an expensive toy, one that thrusted. You knew, deep down, humping the dildo inside you with a pillow between your legs, that it would never be able to replicate the real thing. You felt the blunt little punch of the mechanical dildo against your belly, fucking it into you, as if it would soothe your spiritual famine. Your pleasure was dulled, without the accompanying tenderness of the man that you wanted...needed.

You wore an oversized t-shirt, and nothing else, and Hiromi watched how your back arched and undulated, rolling your cunt against the pillow. You gripped another pillow between your arms, biting into it, mewling at the deliciousness of being filled with something, anything. Hiromi's animalistic senses could hear your little cries, and the muffled buzz of your toys. He could smell the silky arousal that spilled out around your dildo. He could taste you on the air, almost.

It took every ounce of self-restraint not to allow his inhuman strength to take over, punch a hole through the glass and step in, silhouetted against the moonlight. Hiromi would allow his own musk, a curious trap in the art of seduction and predation, to seep over you. Hiromi would watch as you became pliable, supple. You wouldn't fight as he shushed you, pulling the dildo from you and licking it clean. You would whimper for him to replace the emptiness he had left behind, and he would, of course, oblige you. He would press you down by the back of your neck, as if you would ever resist him, and promise you that it wouldn't hurt. He would drink down your cries and your blood as he fucked you down against the sheets, his mouth lapping so fervently at your throat.

He hadn't even noticed how close to his own peak he had come, but as you tensed and keened against your pillow, he felt the dangerous tug of his balls tightening against the base of his cock. He wasn't even touching himself, how could he possibly--

"...H-Hiromi...haaaaah please please fuck me please...oooooohhhh 'm cumming--"

Hiromi came with a shout, with next to no warning, to hear you cry out his name. He convulsed, hunched and doubled-over, cursing and feeling thick ropes of his seed pulse through his jerking cock, diluting with rainwater and trickling down his thighs. He was stunned, panting against the glass, and he nearly swallowed his own heart when he heard the rustle of sheets, and a timid little voice pipe through the dark.

"Hello? Who's there?"

By the time you had pulled the dildo from yourself with a shiver, and opened the balcony door, there was nothing left behind but the churning storm. Clinging to the underside of your balcony, still panting and covered in his own cum, Hiromi knew that something deep within him had fractured completely.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

You were astounded to find yourself alone in the office as the sun set. Hiromi had left before you, with a sickly-looking smile, and a languid wave of that long, pale hand. While you were thrilled that he was going home at a normal time, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. He knew you were staying to work late on a case...and had, apparently, chosen this one night to leave before nightfall.

Night had, indeed, fallen fast. The sunset blotted out quickly behind grey rolling clouds. Another storm swept in, dragging the night along with it. You opened a window, seeking the earthy petrichor to balm your weary soul. You sunk your lovesickness into a bitter coffee, as if it was enough to replace the lackadaisical cleverness of the man who haunted your every waking moment.

You tried to distract yourself, awash in case notes. The hours dragged, long and lonely. Rubbing your eyes as the clock struck midnight, you stood to collect the key to lock the office, only to find it missing.

"Shit..." you murmured, sitting back at your desk to rummage in the drawers. You rummaged in all the drawers-- your boss's, your colleagues, Hiromi's...

The lights above you went out with a click. One by one, throughout the length of the office, the lights went out, out, out, and you were plunged into darkness. You felt a lick of ice down the nape of your neck, and every hair stood on end. You were being watched.

"Shit...shit... where's the key... where's the fucking key?" You hissed to yourself, terror crawling across your skin.

Hiromi was barely himself anymore as he stalked you from the shadows. His belly was a cavernous pit. The unholy combination of starvation and desire stirred the monster within. He lay in waiting, allowing you to be drawn in, running to him while you thought you were running away.

You had tried every nook, every pigeon hole, every secret hook throughout the office, but fear made you sloppy. You couldn't go home too late, when the streets were empty. Not with all the tales of hungry beasts hunting for lone prey in the night.

Why, then, as you approached the expansive boardroom at the end of the corridor, did you find yourself becoming so...mellow? You felt light, airy. You floated on an otherworldly, heady musk, so alluring. It reminded you of someone...but who? You couldn't remember, so many drinks deep into this odd botanical tonic. It throbbed through you, intoxicating and warm and your heart was beating between your legs by the time you swayed into the boardroom, undoing your hair, loosening the buttons of your blouse--

"...I'm sorry. I can't let you leave."

You blinked, slow and drunk. Frowning as your vision cleared, you saw Hiromi, illuminated by moonlight. He sat in the executive's chair, at the head of the great boardroom table. A flash of lightning set his features in dramatic clarity, his Roman nose casting deep shadows across his profile. Still, you thought, with your little hum or surprise, he looked pale. Tense. Tortured.

"...Hiromi...Hiro..." you whispered, padding over to him, barefoot. You couldn't remember when you had shed your shoes. Hiromi's skin prickled. The way your voice, sweet and breathy, ran straight to his cock, had him biting one finger between gradually lengthening canines, his other fingertips steepled against his deeply frowning forehead.

"...wouldn't leave anyway...not when I've...finally got you all to myself..." You slurred, grinning, a happy drunk. Hiromi couldn't help but bite one lip, smiling back at you, as you sat with a thud on his lap. His deadly, predatory pheromones increased against his will, to feel your soft, plush curves pressed to his lap. Hiromi trailed one arm around your waist. The part of him that screamed for him to stop, was trapped in a glass box in his mind.

"Yeah?" Hiromi whispered, one pale hand cupping your jaw. "You've been wanting me all alone? Tell me." She wants this it's okay it's not a trap she'll help me she'd always help me god she's so beautiful--

"I have. For months. I dream about you." The words left your mouth unbidden, dragged from you by some irresistible force. Hiromi drank them down, needing to hear you confess your desire for him.

"And what do you do?" Hiromi urged, his voice rough with need. "What do you do, when you dream of me? Tell me. Now."

"I touch myself and...and wish it was you, instead." Hiromi shivered.

"Until you cum? To the thought of my cock inside you? Until you're calling out for me?" You nodded, hurried and floppy. Hiromi cursed under his breath, a thumb brushing over your lips, salivating at the memory of you on your bed, crying out his name.

"Yeah," you promised, almost tearful now with the weight of your confessions, "I do, I cum so hard, but it's not enough, it's not the same as-- as--"

You slid a hand up Hiromi's chest, his sloppy tie and partially unbuttoned shirt, and were surprised by how cool he felt. He groaned beneath your touch, and you shivered, turning and pressing your chest to his. Hiromi panted beneath you, his face contorted, barely restrained. His hands felt so strong, trapping you to him by your waist, and you were sure there would be bruises left behind.

"Let me taste you," Hiromi convinced, his voice low and persuasive, "just once...you're going to help me." His fingers tangled in your hair now, angling your face up, and you blinked slowly, dazed and unquestioning. His teeth were sharp, bared. You could feel the length of his cock, throbbing against your belly. The frantic rise and fall of his chest made you feel like you were on a little boat, rocking over waves.

You had barely begun to nod, before he pulled you in for a kiss so deep, your head swam. Hiromi groaned into your mouth, forcing your lips to part with his own, devouring you with bliss and fervour. You had never felt so alive, your little heart beating like hummingbird wings. The taste of him was sinful. He wanted to carve out your soul and tie it to his, enshrined, fit for worship. By the time his tongue had plunged into your mouth, you were loose and supple on his lap.

Every ounce of uncertainty had left you. Just as Hiromi's mouth began to trail across your jaw, towards your neck, your hand slipped beneath his belt. Hiromi's lips released the lovebite he had just made above your pulse point with a pop, and his head flung back against the executive's chair's headrest. The moan that left his lips was more pornographic than you had ever dreamt. His silky foreskin seared beneath your touch.

"--f-fuck, god, I-- squeeze me harde--- oooohh-ooohhh shit...hnnnn--'

Hiromi's hands gripped the armrests, white-knuckled, and the two monsters inside him fought a bloody fight to see you slip to your knees between his own, batting his thighs aside. Your hand had released his cock, and if he didn't have it back again, or your blood in his mouth, he would break.

"Will you help me, or not?" He hissed at you, imploring you to spill your soul to him. Lost in this curious haze, you found yourself unable to refuse him an answer.

"...always help you, Hiromi." You mumbled, your fingers deftly undoing his belt. Your teeth unzipped his trousers, and the way Hiromi blushed when your eyes shot him such a filthy look, made you giggle. Maybe I'm the one in danger, he thought vaguely. You hummed, rubbing the pre-cum wet tip of his freed cock against your lips, glossing them. Hiromi's teeth bared again in a snarl, and he panted, bucking up into your hand. You teased him, stroking his length slowly, rolling his aching balls in one hand. Hiromi was frayed, furious with so many unfulfilled needs. He snapped.

"Open your mouth and let me fuck it or I swear--" Hiromi's uncharacteristic threats broke off into a strangled moan, when you took him into your mouth, hot and wet and all at once. Sucking at the tip, curling your tongue to cup the underside of his cockhead, you let the bobs of your head, and swirls of your tongue run smooth and sloppy.

The very air around you felt steeped in wildflowers, and the bizarre pseudo-alcoholic rush heightened every sensation. Even though there was clearly something very wrong with the man you had lusted after for so long, his taste his moans his fingers in your hair his trembling thrusts into your mouth, felt so right.

"--more tongue...deeper deeper yesssss...good girl, fuck-- f-fuck, good girl...wanna come in your mouth-- swallow it-- swallow me--"

You obliged him, and your consciousness remained dragged just a millisecond after your movements as you sunk your mouth lower, swallowing around his cockhead until your nose brushed his downy black happy-trail, and your throat constricted around his tip. Hiromi felt a slam of pleasure behind his navel as his orgasm hit, everything in him tightening with his release.

Hiromi's cries, so frantic and needy, crescendoed through the boardroom, and you felt cool ropes of cum spurt against the back of your tongue. Hiromi watched you swallow around his jerking cock, certain he must be dreaming the eroticism of this. By the time your dewy eyes opened again to look up at him, his cock still hard against your white-spattered tongue, Hiromi had lost all composure. Something white-hot and terrifying rolled off him, and you pulled away, spit and semen connecting you in a thread to his twitching cockhead. Your heart clenched, suddenly feeling a flicker of fear.

"...Hiromi? What's wrong?" You asked, cautious as you rose, scooting backwards onto the boardroom table and sliding yourself away from him. Hiromi stood, slow and deliberate. Something had changed within him. Every action of his seemed clipped, hyper-efficient and intentional. You felt your heady drunkenness increase, a thick pulse of desire shooting through your core, and you tried to ignore it with a whimper.

A flash of lightning illuminated you both-- for the briefest moment, you swore you could see the shadow of great wings behind Hiromi's lean, predatory form. A rumble of thunder rattled the boardroom. Drifts of rain swept the glass wall.

"...knew you'd work it out in the end." Hiromi cooed, his words licking at you, coaxing you back. "Clever girl. I told you I couldn't let you leave, didn't I?" He began to crawl along the table towards you, seemingly weightless, his movement so fluid-- so inhuman.

"You won't-- you won't kill me." You stated, as much to convince him as yourself. Hiromi swallowed, his pupils dilated, still crawling to catch up with you. As you darted back, he leapt forwards, dragging you to him by your ankle and caging you against the table beneath him. Only then, did you see the turmoil in him.

"I'd never. I could never. I wouldn't, ever." Hiromi spat, beseeching. You softened. He saw how you squirmed beneath him, knew how his hormones had ensnared you, making you desperate. Seeing you clutch your thighs together for relief, your nipples pebbled and almost freed beneath your blouse, Hiromi gulped again.

"I'm so-- so hungry." Hiromi growled, canines sharp against his lower lip, "And I need-- need-- I can make this good...for both of us. I can make you, if I need to, but I-- I'd rather not. Trust me. Please." He did not need to beg or force, when you were already undressing beneath him, as if you hadn't been waiting for him to take you since the first time your name had fallen from his lips.

"I trust you. Just...just...please." You begged now, and Hiromi shuddered, his eyes black as another flash of lightning flashed on his exquisite profile. He watched you, breasts heaving, now in just your bra and underwear. A burst of pheromones from him left you whimpering, your neck stretched to the side. He raised one strong, fine-boned hand to circle your throat, protecting it from himself as his mouth moved down your body.

"...so close already, aren't you? My beauty...best thing I've ever tasted." Hiromi whispered, his lips ghosting over one freed nipple, pre-cum dripping where his cock dragged against your thighs, "Need you sweeter...before I drink you." You whimpered beneath his mouth, suckling on your nipple until you cried out, your hands tangling in his inky, grey-streaked locks of hair. His hand kneaded at your other breast, relishing the softly yielding squish beneath his fingers.

Your thighs parted for just long enough to clamp Hiromi's cock between them, slick with his dripping pre-cum and your arousal. Hiromi gasped, canines grazing against your nipple, and your thighs clamped harder, Hiromi jerking with a cursing groan above you. He rutted spontaneously, sliding his cock between the plush of your thighs with a shaky, prolonged moan. Hiromi stayed this way for a few minutes, lapping and kneading at your breasts, fucking himself between your thighs. His pleasure threatened to peak again, and he hissed, slipping his cock free of the hot glove your thighs had made for him.

"Don't...don't." Hiromi growled, nipping your belly in warning as he slid himself down, shooting you a look to burn. "I'm not cumming on this fucking table, when I could cum inside you." Your breath hitched with the promise, feeling so weightless as Hiromi stripped your underwear from you. He took a moment to admire the glistening petals around your core, before sinking his tongue and nose between them with a moan.

Hiromi didn't allow you to last. Already so close to your peak, Hiromi's essence pulsed through you with your taste on his tongue. You were washed through with a skin-prickling, burning orgasm, plundering through you like wildfire. Hiromi had gripped you, and would not let you go, and with his mouth desperately lapping at your clit, your orgasm simply did not end.

You were a wreck, writhing and twisting and begging, all frantic cries of his name, alternately trying to shove Hiromi's head away and pull him closer. With one particularly hard push against him, Hiromi drew away, and bit onto the soft inside of your thigh in warning. You squealed as he drew blood.

You almost heard his heartbeat stop, enthralled by the droplets of blood running down your thigh. His tongue darted out, capturing them before they hit the table, your blood and arousal mixing on his tongue. You suddenly felt the danger you were in, in the jaws of a god as Hiromi's eyes turned up to you, settling on your neck. His eyes stayed fixed, his mouth puckering around the bite wound on your thigh, sucking just once before sealing the wound with a trembling tongue.

"...I'm going to fuck you, now." Hiromi stated, blunt, in warning, as he crawled back up your body. His cockhead grazed over your folds, and Hiromi grasped himself, lining his cock up with your fluttering core. "And you'll stay still...or I...I can't...you'll get hurt."

You couldn't possibly have refused at this stage. Hiromi was possessed by something stronger than himself, and you yearned to heal the fractured core of him. Grasping your wrists in one of his hands, and pressing them above your head, Hiromi coiled one hand in your hair, tilting your neck to the side.

You felt the insistent press of his cock filling you, as his teeth punctured your skin. You jolted, crying out, and Hiromi snarled against you, gripping you tighter. Hiromi felt the hot, salty, copper tang of your blood flooding his tongue, and his hips took on a life of their own. He slammed into you, again, and again, tasting your delicious little squeaks, bound beneath him with no means of escape. The human core of him was disgusted; the monster relished every second.

Allowing his otherworldly bliss to roll over you again, Hiromi felt you go languid and supple, your pussy clenching involuntarily around the bullying pace of his cockhead against your belly. Breathless moans muffled into your neck, interspersed with his gulps. Hiromi burst with adoration for you, and how well you were taking him. He had never felt so alive.

Hiromi felt your pulse fluttering in your wrists, and, convinced it was growing weaker, released your throat with a whine and a gasp, pressing his tongue against you again to seal the wounds. Hesitating only briefly, Hiromi fucked into you harder, faster, crimson dripping down his chin, dopey and lovesick. His hand tangled in your hair, pressing a bloody kiss to your cheek, feeling his orgasm creep up his back. His fingers plaited with your own above your head.

You were his, completely, happy to be used. The fervent thrust of his blunt, leaking cockhead against your sweet spot, his sandy whispers and gasps-- "...the best fucking medicine...I swear to god-- keep me forever, please, shit-- cum inside you, gonna cum inside you-- fffuck--" -- and the waves of Hiromi's strange, floral aphrodisiac, sent you tumbling over the edge again. Hiromi cursed, moaning, to feel you clench, writhing and arching beneath him, your cries rising in pitch as Hiromi fucked into you with total abandon, mesmerised by you.

"--more more moremoremore please-- Hiromi-- don't stop--"

Hiromi gritted his teeth, drawing himself out for as long as he could. Feeling the pummel and stretch of his cock inside you, slick and wet, set your eyes rolling back. When you bit into Hiromi's shoulder, he broke, buckling onto his elbows with a roar. His second orgasm blinded him, his balls emptying in violent contractions, thick white seed filling your belly and cunt in long, agonisingly pleasurable spurts. Hiromi swore, cursing and convulsing, crushing your body beneath his.

By the time Hiromi's vision returned, he was more human than he'd felt in months, as if giving into the monster was the only thing keeping him at bay. You floated back down to earth with him, feathersoft, on your bed of meadowsweet. A faint blush spread across Hiromi's nose at the sight of you, fucked-out, messy and spread beneath him.

"...I understand we have some important things to talk about," Hiromi said, bizarrely formal for a man whose cock was still inside you, "and I understand if you don't want to see me again after this, so we can organise a public date and time--"

Hiromi's voice muffled, still trying to talk as you pulled him to you by his tie, shutting him up with a kiss.

[adoregojo]

∑ foolish fondness ➛ reo.m

reo was definitely, absolutely, entirely, not jealous.

not when you called this guy ‘cute' 一sure he clenched his fist into an aggressive ball shade, but nothing crazy. not when you dubbed him as you 'bodyguard’一as if reo can't secure you a whole army to watch over you like hawks 24/7. 

and definitely not when you called that ‘mister x’ handsome.

Maybe his looks were enough to kill an entire generation, but no, he wasn't jealous.

to be accurate, he was burning alive.

yet reo forced himself to smile, despite the flames eating him to bits, it was all worth it for you. swallowing the lump that was clogging his throat, trying so desperately to not let out a piercing cry when you keep up on ranting about him when he一your boyfriend, was right there!

“he seems fun to be around, I guess.” uttering ever so bitterly, the words left stains of venom on his tongue.

“very, I also feel safe anywhere near him.” you went off giggling, while reo was on the edge of letting the earth swell him down, because witnessing hell freeze over with everyone dancing flamenco would've been something he could cope with more than hearing you say that another man was making you feel safe一and no. he wasn't being dramatic, at all.

“He even scared a bunch of creeps off my back yesterday, isn't he just the best?”

that's all? well, reo could easily ban them from 12 countries. ‘mister x’ has to get his games up.

He also has a large backyard, but that's for another story.

“Sure he is. ‘mister x’ seems like the most interesting guy to ever exist.” he spat out, hands shaking deep in his pockets. At this rate, he thinks he's all ready to cease a running train with one hand. 

“just because you refuse to acknowledge his name doesn't mean you can call him ‘mister x’, it's mr fuji.” you pointed out, as if reo had offended you with his misspelling. oh now you were defending him? just marry once and for all一please don't. 

“Anyway, I gotta meet him for lunchtime. you wanna tag along?” 

to be bland, reo was infuriated. he wanted to be mad at you, but oh一how could he when you looked so happy? with the most enthusiastic smile and he swore he could define preciousness underneath it alone. Unlike him, you never liked to swim between a myriad of people, always drawing a line when it came to your own personal space. so it's safe to say that reo, aside from being your boyfriend, was the first one to be this adjacent, the one that tackled your personal space wholly. then he wouldn't have to worry about sharing you一all for him to love and cherish. 

even if it hurts seeing someone mimicking his steps to your warmth, where he wanted to be the one and only there. Even if it meant wounding himself, reo didn't have the strength to stand up against your glee for his own gluttony of your attention. 

“of course,” reo would utter undertone, concealing what he had of dreads with a tight smile.

and yet, reo can feel your glances of doubt on him. He wasn't trying hard enough to hide his grimace when the first thing you snatched was a warped up raw meat, was he taking reo’s spot of being the first one on your mind?一and seriously, raw meat? what kind of epoch did this man colonize? when cannibalism was normalized?一 Still, he acted nonchalant. including two warped up sandwiches and just paid with his lips pressed on to a thin line. 

Even when the grip on the card was unyielding to the point he might just twist it if it wasn't for your hand to pat him up on the arm一he found himself easing up. just a little. and maybe his heart skipping a beat for the shortest time possible.

halfway walking, reo had to fight the urge to turn around and take a step back. Perhaps cry himself to sleep while he's at it. although, he found it in himself to straighten up. walk by your side with a stiffened shoulders and a heavy heart.

and when you two stopped, a nearby ditch, he figured that you two were in the place一the place his greatest nemesis of all time settled in. 

unwittingly, he asks, “Can he fight?”

“what?”

“I asked, can he fight?”

you shot him a look, tilting your head to the side in confusion. “You can say his name, y’know?” 

“only if he won.” 

you had to palm your mouth, suffocating your laughter. your boyfriend narrows his eyes at you, “what? you think I'd lose?” reo ranted, now you had both hands to stifle your chortle. and he could feel neck crimson sheepishly to a shade of red, whatever it was embarrassment or pure bashfulness under the tune of your laugh.

“Since when were you after someone's blood?” you managed to let out, wiping your fake tears. leaving reo to wonder how you directed to shone like clockwork一 glistening a smile he’d go to war for一dammit, this wasn't the time to act like his usual lovelorn self. 

“I am not. but if he wanted to dig a hole for himself, I'd be the last thing he'd see.” 

and before you could make out a witty response, a low bark echoes throughout the ditch. deliberate steps of an old dog come to view一if reo may guess, it was a Newfoundland dog breed. 

he sees you leaping up to the senile dog as if he was your longtime aibou. ruffling the feather black fur, the animal leaning lazily against your affection. reo almost awed at the sight.

“reo, this is mr fuji. mr fuji, this reo. my boyfriend.”

reo blinks. 

“it's.. a dog?” he slips out, ever so hesitant.

“not just any dog, the cutest, most handsome dog in the world.” 

Suddenly, he's able to breathe again. He felt like the world's burden just lifted off his chest. He inactively watched as you unfold the raw meat and fed the aged dog. giving it a gentle pat in his head before standing back up to your boyfriend’s side. 

“So it was a dog all along.” he acknowledged once again, a relief chuckle came from him as a soothing spring’s breeze. 

by his side, you lean onto him till your arms are touching, reo could feel your warmth against him一or maybe that was just his body heating unintentionally. “Is that why you were jealous earlier?” you asked, sloping your head to the side as you observed him. his face painted in the slightest hints of red. 

“I wasn't.” he tried objecting, tipping his head to the opposite direction of you. 

“you were.”

“woof.”

“see? even mr fuji agrees.” 

you knew he was a terrible liar when he was around you, it's always his cheekbones, ears and neck betraying him to unfold the chaste truth. with you squeezing the flesh of his arm gently, eyes keening on him. you were so unfair, you can't pull the ultimatum cunning he cannot find it in his heart to turn a blind eye on.

“So what if I was? Is it bad that I ache to be the only person you could consider?” 

there it was, it was a mythical pull一with all his three spies flushing out. “you know that's almost impossible, right?” 

“ the only man then.”

“go easy.”

“fine, the only man that'll get eulogized by you.”

“only if it's mutual.”

“trust, it has been biased for a while now.”

with that, you take his hands in yours. weaving farewells to mr fuji, with reo just side-eyed him while muttering something along the lines ‘geezer’ leaving you to question if it was your own mirages playing tricks on you. dog or not, reo will still count him as his rival of all time.

yet when you tend towards him, interlocking your hands as you walk side by side. from the corner of his lilac hues, he could tone your affluent reddish skin when tucking a lost lock of your hair behind your ear. his knuckles would linger on your cheekbones to flavor the warmth till you had to force him away.

reo would observe you for a while before saying, “I won.” circulating to the world, and to himself. with the stupidest, lovesick smile glued to his lips. you ought to kick his leg slightly, while he would let out a long, fake whine. asking you to kiss it better.

and you would, despite the grimacing peers around you two. it was hard to tell the one who fell harder.

[maggstar]

𝐔𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐈 𝐃𝐢𝐞

───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+, mni DNI!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 365 days since the incident, in which Heeseung's life turned upside down, is today. Will he be able to save her this time?

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, hard angst, veryyy emotional, trauma bonding/coping, cop!Hee (injured reader, guns, shooting, kidnapping, violence, death) kissing, biting, marking, handjob, oral (f. receiving) , fingering, vanilla, very intimiate and loving unprotected s3x, missionary, spooning, lotus.

!!!TW: ED, suicidal thoughts, mentioned attempts, s3lf harm (both characters)

𝐖𝐂: 21k+ (ehm..., yea)

𝐀/𝐍: Finally. It is here. this one is for ♡ anon. ily. I want to say I loved writing this whole fic even though it was emotionally difficult. I wrote about heavy topics, so please be aware before reading as this might not be everyone's cup of tea! Both characters are in pretty messed up mental states, but their love to each other is what keeps them going. I hope you guys enjoy this fic as I never put this much effort into any fic before.

Please leave any sort of feedback: reblogging and commenting is the best for me, so let me know!! ───────────────────⊹⊱✫⊰⊹────────────────────

As Heeseung approached the town, he immediately recognized the steep, rocky road that led to the street of his most ominous memories. Despite the passing of a year, everything remained the same. The familiar layout felt like coming home after years of being abroad. In a way, he had been. 

He found it amusing how visiting his past brought such mixed feelings. Given how messed up things were before his departure, he was afraid to face all the negative emotions. Merely thinking about the events crawled an uncanny sensation. 

Yet, here he was, letting the comforting sentimentality alight on his heart and beam at the faint breeze entering through his window as he soaked up the evocative atmosphere. It had a hint of gloom as the rain amplified with his reappearance, making the ominous night colder than usual. Goosebumps took over his body, observing the surroundings while the car shifted its gear to neutral. 

The park was abandoned at this time, reminiscing on the children's laughter in the evenings, playing for hours without a care. He liked to come there after work, sit for a few minutes, and listen to them. They still had the monkey bars and pirate-themed wooden ship in the middle of the playground, which he helped paint. 

He examined the residences next to his old one, all appearing the same. Looking at the colorful houses with picturesque gardens pierced an arduous nostalgia. A few had undergone reconstructions as the previous owners seemed to have parted. 

Some even had new furniture or repainting, their garages containing bigger and more luxurious vehicles. New additions like swings or slides for children were also notable. A small number of areas were also seemingly building new homes for the future, expanding the population in the tainted town.

With a glance beside, he examined the house he spent his student years in. 

"Would you look at that," he scoffed, studying the untouched exterior, still covered in that sensational buttermilk paint. 

Even the pecan concrete tiles on the roof were there, with additional solar panels. The current owners also installed a masonry chimney to the side - something he had always wished for but couldn't afford. 

They were definitely more knowledgeable in Botanics than he was. The garden looked completely different. The condition Heeseung left it in was atrocious, with dead flowers and dried weeds scattering the place. Zora Neale Hurston once quoted: "Trees and plants always look like the people they live with." He didn't know if this disclosure was comical or tragic, heavily soughing instead. 

Currently, the place had more of a Japanese style: a little lake in the middle underneath beautiful white lotuses. Oak and cherry trees surrounded the layout, whereas perfectly cut bonsai trees greeted passers-by in the front. The family likely had their roots there because it was uncommon to opt for this type in this area. Yet again, he was inexperienced in this topic, so who was he to say anything? 

He sighed, lowering his head to take a deep breath to process all the garnering memories reaching the surface from the seabed. It was bound to happen, and he still didn't manage to prepare for it. 

Back then, there was too much weight on his shoulders. From college to his family, there was only so much a teenager could handle. 90% of his memories were the ones he sincerely wished to omit evermore. He didn't want to rub salt into his wounds by reliving them, aiming to concentrate on the better side.

After all, it was this place he achieved and lost everything at once. The city that welcomed the lost pup with open arms after the death of his parents, soothing with empty promises and fraudulent head pats. 

Back then, he was too naive to differentiate malicious intentions, foolishly jumping onto every proposition. He thought people wanted to help and not take advantage of his incapacity, that they would aid the broken one with the loving words he needed. 

Fundamentally, he was an emotional wreck, emptiness and numbness following him all day. 

There wasn't anyone left in his life, just miscellaneous pictures gathered in a photo album and recollections of happy moments in carton boxes. Going through their belongings hurt more than anything, smudging their smiles with tears and repeated callouts to which no one could respond anymore. 

In other words, it was the worst period of his life.

His nights were established on puffy eyes, a terrible headache, and a stuffy nose, suffering in silence for months. The money he was supposed to spend on food went to tissues, trashing the whole place. Getting up in the mornings was incredibly demanding, failing often at convincing himself. Staying in and laying in his PJs permanently tolled more promising.

No one seemed to care about his late arrival to classes anyway. The teachers were the exclusive individuals, questioning his defect of attendance and interest. They often came to various false conclusions. They didn't consider asking for the real reason behind his struggles at handing in assignments and essays on time without lying to dodge admonitions. 

In the same way, no one doubted the sunglasses he wore every day. They assumed it was part of a fashion trend when, in reality, it was an excuse to hide the redness and semicircle exhaustion. 

The clothes that fit him weeks ago began loosening, appearing enormous on his underweight body. When his friends pointed out his lack of appetite during lunch, he put it behind him and led the conversation in another direction. That way, he felt he had control over reality. 

In reality, he knew it was avoidance. He wasn't ready to concede he was struggling. Something wasn't alright, and he deteriorated with each passing day. 

Reminiscing on the past, optimistic Heeseung wearing a warming smile mirrored the numb motionlessness, not containing enough confidence to face the drastic and tragic change.

The only courageous people were the Choi family. 

He turned his head to the left, catching a glimpse of the elderly couple sitting at the table inside their closed terrace. They were laughing and enjoying dinner, accompanied by two other people, handing out the freshly grilled food on their plates. A little boy was attending the meal as well, gesturing widely. He leaned forward to examine the guests, scanning their faces. For some reason, they were so familiar...

"No way," a gasp forsake, realizing that turn of events. 

The handsome, tall young man with an athletic build was no other than Choi Hyun-woo, the son of the married pair. Heeseung facepalmed himself for taking so long to figure out his identity, doubting his dexterities.

His parents had introduced the two after a few weeks of Heeseung visiting. Around that time, he was in a custody battle with his dangerous wife. That adjective was an understatement when considering her malicious threats. They were predominantly about hurting their son if he didn't leave her alone or running away with him.

That wasn't the only crazy part. The more unsettling information he learned, the more he feared for the safety of the small boy. Besides being mentally unstable, she also struggled with psychosis. The doctors warned her countless times, but she didn't reflect on any of their words when entering a new relationship. If anyone was the victim in this situation, it was Hyun-woo. 

Seeing them reunited was all he could have ever wished for them, smiling at the cheerful sight. 

"Thank you for being here for us, Heeseung. We just want you to know we're also here for you," he could hear the oldster sighing while patting his back, sensing the weariness from the mere flicker.

"We're all humans in the end. Even the strongest ones cannot lift the weight the world pushes on us." The stogie burned further whenever he would take a whiff, passing it on for a moment of peace.

"Life hasn't been easy on you, has it?" the bearded man turned to face the youngster, quietly sitting and observing the night sky. 

"No, sir, it hasn't," he took the long roll of tobacco to try it out, analyzing its shape and thickness.

"Pretending to be happy when you're in pain is an example of how strong you are as a person, Lee."

"Never doubt your strength, you hear me?" he repeatedly swung his index finger to reprimand him. 

"Yessir," Heeseung nodded before inhaling the cigar, not foreseeing its power. On the other hand, the veteran couldn't help but enjoy the outcome, laughing as he expectorated. 

"How can you smoke this?" he punched his chest numerous times to get the bubble of smoke out of his system. 

"Times were different back in my days. We had nothing else."

"Still..."

"Do one thing for me," the senior flipped the page, taking another load and slowly exhaling a white cloud into the cold fall night. Heeseung faced him after successfully getting rid of the awful irritation in his throat. He sat there, waiting for another round of sagacious words from the wise man. 

"Don't give up. Whatever it takes, don't give up, son. Even when you feel like there's no purpose, don't because nothing lasts forever. It will get better."

It was those words that made Heeseung push through the days. It was almost unbelievable how much of an impact it had on him. Never in a million years would he have thought a motivational speech could get him back on his feet. Then again, he never gave anyone a chance to see behind his facade.

Although they were the ones who required assistance, Heeseung ended up receiving all of the help. 

"Have you eaten? No? That's unacceptable! Come over as soon as you're done with school!"

Mrs. Choi's disappointment still rang through his ears, envisioning her in her French kitchen with a spatula in her hand. It was a vista he missed, alongside the delectable smell of her exceptional cooking.

She constantly checked on him, calling once his school was over and asking if he needed anything. Cooking him meals became a habit whenever he stopped by to help in the garden, practically shoving packets of food into his chest. She knew it wasn't much, but for Heeseung, it meant the world. Knowing that someone actually appreciated his company and cared about his well-being without solely thinking about theirs was unknown. 

So unknown that in the beginning, he assumed the lunch boxes in his backpack ended up by accident and that Mrs. Choi had mixed it up. 

That's how messed up people have been to him that his mind found it unbelievable. Every bit of aid had to have a twisted meaning behind it because why would anyone care about him? No one was there when he was bereaved. No one came to say their condolences or ask if he was alright. It was just him in the columbarium as he placed the ceramic pot with the last remains of his loved ones into the repository. The sole visitor on his free days, leaving the deceased ones' favorite snacks underneath their memorial. He was the boy the guard always had to wake up and send home. 

"It's just thee, thy, and thou, huh?"

"Yes, Mr. Choi."

It is how he achieved his dream and became a successful officer and the person he is now. 

All the hardships and woes he underwent in his early adulthood built up the future he worked for without resting. The mornings and nights would meld into one, struggling to distinguish AM from PM. Around that time, his coffee intake started slipping out, and he tried out every possibility to stay awake and finish everything. 

So much he had to do in such little time. Heeseung didn't understand how he finished it, but his body did. It was giving up, slowly but gradually, because he wouldn't stop pushing the limits. He thought he could do more each time, twisting the meaning of "just a bit more."

One day, the strings finally tore off, and his body had enough. 

Without looking back, it gave in. It handed in the shattered pieces of his soul to the unknown, streaming down like a feather. Nothing had left within, no recollections to reflect on his actions. All his hopes had dashed, molding his fears into a vase of entrapment. The more he tried to climb out of the well, the deeper he fell back, the walls elevating. He screamed into the darkness, the exclamations reflecting due to the scarcity of allowance. 

The next thing you know, he woke up in an unfamiliar and cold environment, with doctors coming in and out. They kept asking various questions and filling out some forms before leaving. The 

He expected the nurses checking up on him now and then to answer the question marks in his head, watching them flush the tube in his nostrils.

It was when he opened his mouth to ask about it that one of the nurses responded, explaining its essential purpose.

She called it "Nasogastric tube feeding". A line delivering nutrients directly into his stomach through his nose. Heeseung kept listening while the woman cleaned the skin around his nose with a warm washcloth, describing his situation. 

Apparently, he had been in the ICU for a few days, and the doctors ran various tests to unravel his deficiencies. The stats showed the deceleration of cardiac activity, leading to low heart rate and blood pressure. They also mentioned low body temperature, which Heeseung had been battling for centuries. It exemplified why he felt faint and weak all the time. Maybe it even answered his apathy toward life.

The results of his BMI indicated severe underweight, whereas the blood test showcased micronutrient imbalances. Heeseung couldn't fathom all of the details his doctor kept streaming, closing his eyes in a vain attempt to ignore the consequences of his stubbornness and lack of eating. 

Not only did he have to wear a plastic tube, but he also had to talk with dietologists and healthcare professionals to make changes in his life.  

Heeseung loathed it and didn't listen to anything they had to offer because, in his mind, he had already decided what was best for him. Suggestions like attending occupational therapy gave him a laugh, not comprehending the reason for such an absurd and useless alternative. There was still a belief that everything was alright, and the situation was being blown out of proportion. 

Even after all that information, he refused to accept reality. If he did, he would have to reconcile with his aggravating condition and shape. He would have to acknowledge how bad the situation was. That if he didn't take action now, it could end terribly. 

And Heeseung wasn't prepared to admit it aloud. Admit he had been suffering for so long that he lost track of days because they began blending into one endless loop where he couldn't live in peace. Confess the terrible feelings of hopelessness, loneliness, and emptiness. The feeling that he woke up to bypass that motivating bright sun hiding behind those dark, self-destructive clouds. The ones which slowly perished his soul.

Disclose the deep yearning for love, tenderness, and affection lingering in his sore throat. Reveal the hope to knit his tattered heart, wrapping around his neck so delicately that he didn't want it to stop. Divulge the need to end everything trussing in the back of his head, increasing whenever an obstacle occurred, doubting everything about himself. Concede the crossing between life and death, questioning the meaning of existence. 

Relent that the word suicide kept repeating in his mind like an old cassette player, seeing the curse inscribed over everything. Allow the guilt to take over and condemn him for leaning towards the balcony whenever it whispered the word "jump". It conveyed it so alluringly that it made him go crazy, holding onto the railings in pure despair. 

Describe how sharp blades appeared veracious. Explain why he deleted the Google search history to hide the questions on overdoes. 

He wasn't ready, but he had to be. Otherwise, he would ultimately lose himself in the hollowness and disperse forever. 

So, he decided to bite the bullet and push through by turning the page.

Thanks to his determination, he could now sit in a police car and help those in need. Do a job where he could be the person he needed others to be at his lowest. 

There had been one. However, Heeseung was forbidden from ever thinking about that person. 

Why? Because he made the biggest mistake of his life, which he atoned for till today.

A beautiful mistake that he deeply missed every hour, every minute, every second.

"Dispatch to Patrol One," the sudden statistic transmitted through the two-way radio, pulling back the officer from daydreaming. 

"10-04," he quickly responded, grabbing the transmitter and acknowledging the callsign. 

"Are you alright, sir?" the worry conveyed, belonging to none other than Seo-Jun. 

"Yes," He sighed, resting his head on the steering wheel. 

"Sir, pardon me, but you don't sound like it," the young officer evoked, tentative about probing her senior. 

She could hear him repeat the proverb: "Curiosity killed the cat." It wasn't her best trait, and she knew it. It was always these times she couldn't help but push it forward and let concern get the better of her. 

After all, it was Lee Heeseung, the guy who managed to turn her life over. 

If he hadn't helped her escape from her toxic ex-boyfriend last summer, she wouldn't be sitting in the obsolete office now. She was lucky to dial 112 in time and come out alive. If he had been a few minutes late, she could have suffered to death from the undying abuse. The memory was deeply engraved in the depth of her heart, recalling him standing by her side during the hospital procedures. He never wanted to admit it, but he was the town's hero for saving the mayor's daughter. 

Therefore, her gratitude towards him was prodigious. And for the same reason, she wanted to be there for him during tough times. No matter how hard she tried, her approach would emerge unsuited and unfit each time. People told her to get ahold of her steps countless times, and she still made the same slips every time. Nevertheless, she didn't give up and reached out to dial the official. 

"Seo-Jun, I-"

"My apologies, sir. I've crossed my line," she hastily tried to cover up her actions, slapping her forehead for being nosy and pushy. 

"I'm not okay," the voice on the other side emitted into the discomfiting silence, a heavy sigh following the statement. Seo-Jun opened her eyes to perceive the sentence, staring at the floor beneath her as the declaration reiterated in her brain. She widened her pupils when she finally realized what he had uttered, almost falling off her chair after swiftly turning and grabbing back the radio. 

"Sir, is this about the note you've received?"

"What note?" he frowned, backing up. 

"Well, you've got a message on your account, and you know it goes through me first, so I might have accidentally read what was on it-"

"What note are you talking about?" The stern change in speech startled her, contemplating if it was due to her admitting her horrible demeanor or the want of information. 

"The one that states: Broadway 123, 11:30 PM," she reread the email, stuffing her mouth with another strawberry-flavored lollipop. At this point, it was a miracle her teeth hadn't fallen out yet. 

"Any signatures?"

"Just two initials: K.J."

Heeseung's stomach dropped at the revelation, which only confirmed his prior thoughts. It was the 13th of March, after all. What was he thinking?

He looked at the time on the display, typing in the coordinates to the navigation. It showed an estimated arrival in 15 minutes. His jaw clenched, attempting to pulverize the inexhaustible alarm ringing in his skull.

"Fuck, why didn't you tell me earlier?" his panic disseminated into anger, hastily starting up the car. He grabbed the gearstick, his leg pressing the accelerator. 

"I'm sorry, sir. I thought you knew about it."

"You know goddamn well I never check my email," he shifted to 3rd gear already, turning on the emergency lights on the car. They switched from one color to the other, the sound of sirens following right after every blick. 

"I'm really sorry, sir, but what does it even tell? It sounds dangerous."

"Cause it is," Heeseung cut her off, "and that's why you should have told me earlier." 

Seo-jun's voice went quiet, the time on the call prolonging without either side speaking. 

She had nothing to say, as she realized the severity of her actions. 

Frankly, she had difficulty understanding the whole situation and why it aggravated Heeseung this much. She stared at the email, trying to find a hidden clue or something that would cure her curiosity. 

Despite her attempts, she ended with disappointment, leaning back on the chair with a loud sigh. 

She turned her head to the side while Heeseung turned his back on the road, which was moderately clean, with no traffic jams preventing him from reaching his destination. Most cars quickly reacted to the situation and pulled to the side of the road. 

He looked in the rear mirror, seeing a silhouette sitting in the backseat with blood all over her face, a faded smile visible. 

"Help her, I beg you," The voice echoed in his ears as he made a left, entering the mentioned street. 

He fought the unwanted shakiness in his body, the sentence replaying like a broken cassette, causing him to break down the walls he had built in the past months.

He had to be more collected. His duty was to stay calm under pressure and not to invoke panic, but here he was, gripping the wheel too much. His nails began to hurt from the prolonged force, eyes ungluing from the road for a split second. He looked at his image in the mirror, sensing a faint taste of blood. There, he could see the deep cut on his lip, his teeth responsible for choosing the wrong coping mechanism. 

He could also see the same hopeless look as the one on that day, anger building up from within to curse him for being a wreck in such a crucial situation again. The consequences of it taunted him, internally punching him for his incompetence. An officer who couldn't control his emotions was the same one trying to rescue someone. He couldn't even stop himself from deteriorating, and here he was, seeking to thwart others.

It was all foolish, just like he was at this moment. 

What a fool he was for wanting a chance to right the wrongs. 

Without a second thought, Heeseung immediately parked near the reported location, practically jumping out of the car. He checked if his gun was locked and loaded again before heading out. 

He looked around, eyes looking for potential gang associates in the surroundings. He expected at least some bodyguards or watchdogs near the building, but no one was around. Grabbing his flashlight, he took an overhand grip, shortening the distance to the building with each cautious but fast step. 

The residence was outdated, definitely abandoned by the looks of its upkeep. What seemed like a factory was now an empty, deserted residence. No one had visited this place for a long time. 

He approached the door, reaching the porch to see if anything was happening inside. 

The front door was locked from the other side, the darkness concealing the image inside. Heeseung had to go through the back to enter, listening for any noise on his way. It was too quiet for his liking, not a single peep emanating from the residence. He climbed over the wire fence, sucking up the pain the metal left after puncturing his skin. 

Nothing was more important than reaching inside.

He did suspect the message, wondering if it was another prank pulled by the bored teenagers. Sadly, it happened quite too often, with them lining up the emergency number and creating false stories to bring out the hirelings for their entertainment.

Still, none of them knew about his past, so the chances were nearly impossible. Not even his colleagues knew why he decided to take a day off today. They had zero keen on why this day was so important for him. They had no idea it was this day that turned his life around.

He took a position behind the wall as he glanced for the back door, peeking out carefully. To his surprise, it was wide open, bestowing him an entrance. 

He approached it slowly, looking out for a possible intruder since the unusual stillness wasn't preventing the tension in his muscles from stiffening. When he met no obstacles, he determined it was clear to proceed, stepping inside.

The uneven concrete underneath welcomed him back, permitting a path towards the middle. Just like last time, he thought to himself, before approaching the cursed center. 

Here.

It all happened here.

It was where he found Seo-Jun. Right here. 

He could see the silhouette in the wooden chair, bound by duct tape. He could still feel the hopelessness and helplessness.

A supposed rescue mission turned into a shootout, in which he had zero back-ups to overcome the opponents. 6v1, and Heeseung barely came out alive, with one bullet shot in his right arm. The female he was supposed to save bled out on the spot because of fatal injuries, and there was nothing he could do to help her. He tried so hard to stop the bleeding and apply as much pressure as he could in his injured condition. All just to witness her slowly part away in his arms with a painful "thank you".

Heeseung blamed himself for her death till today. After all, he was the one to blame for it. That's what her parents kept repeating.

"Murderer! It was your job to protect her!"

"She's dead because of you!"

"It should have been you who died, not her!"

They were right. 

He agreed with everything they said. It was the truth. He had failed, and there was nothing he could do to bring her back. 

Nightmares of the terror night practically became the fairytale of his sleep. He would wake up drenched in sweat, pushing himself to successfully save her in his dreams. He was so close but so far away at the same time. 

It was all humorous. How returning to this unfortunate place stirred the wrong memories. How it managed to discern the familiar gut-wrenching feeling in his system. The one he had to take medication for every day to keep his head clear. To stop seeing the silhouettes of her everywhere. 

"Seo-Jun, don't do this to me," his head dropped to his feet, refusing to reexperience his trauma. 

"You're not here anymore," he bit down on his lip, gulping down the ascending guilt.

"But it's not me, Heeseung." 

His eyes rose, staring at the silhouette. They struggled to decipher the person in front of them, barely having the energy to stay open. 

He stepped closer, his heavy steps echoing through the enormous vacant room. He was expecting it to disappear as it was a part of his imagination. However, it stayed there, clear as a day.  

It was her.

Not her her, but her.

The voice that haunted him every night in his nightmares. The one that begged him to save her sister from those psychopaths, putting the last bits of hope into him. The screams replayed in his nightmares when he had come out with her sister in his arms, barely holding the victim as he was close to passing out himself. They soon turned into weeps, coughing up the pain in her system, unable to stop her body from shaking at the sight of her sibling in agonizing pain. 

He remembered the way she looked up at him while the paramedics carried her inside the ambulance, face covered in shock and desperation. 

It was as if both knew the outcome awaiting them in the hospital, not prepared to admit the painful reality. They wanted to pretend like they didn't know, even if it was only for a minute. 

He recalled her running after the car, legs giving out in the middle, getting up over and over again without thinking twice about the damage on her knees. 

The same pain he felt back then kicked in right now, pounding into his stomach because despite disappointing her, she was the one who checked up on him in the ER. She was the only person who turned up. The only one worried about his condition, holding in the tears.

"I know my sister was glad someone tried. That someone cared and wanted to save her."

"I'm happy to know that the last face she saw was yours and not those bastards'."

"Mr. Lee, thank you. Thank you for everything."

Despite everything, she said those words to him, managing to smile at him before leaving. He felt her release the painful ache through the door, mourning for the lost one as the hospital tiles created a path stained with sorrow. 

"It's your chance, Heeseung."

"To do what you couldn't with me."

He looked around to glimpse a ghost of Seo-Jun, to believe it was all real and not a part of his disturbed imagination. 

But she was nowhere to be found. 

It was Y/N instead, encircled by the cause of her sister's death.

The same person he stopped visiting every day after the incident, too thoughtless to leave her all alone in that big city while the perpetrators roamed around freely. 

He thought it would have been for the better to give her space to grieve properly, without him appearing at the door to remind her of the incident. 

She never complained, though, but rather showed her gratitude for the concern, not managing to function alone with her parents passing on their sadness to her. 

It was a difficult time for her to be in, especially alone. That's why Heeseung's presence brought her the peace and comfort she needed. He helped her move out her sister's furniture, going as far as to seclude a deal to sell the apartment so the family could have a proper funeral, which he ended up attending himself. 

Her parents weren't exactly hiding their anger at his presence at such a personal event, holding him accountable for the happening of the ceremony. 

However, she was the one who had invited him. She chewed their disapproval and asked him to stay beside her. She needed someone to hold on during the event, both mentally and physically, thankful for his hand lingering on hers as she watched her other half disappear into the ground. 

He stayed with her for a long time after that, coming every morning to help her get out of bed and get ready for the day, becoming her caregiver for the following weeks. 

She was suffering inside, and he could tell by her blankly staring into the walls, movements so slow it looked like it hurt. It was difficult to convince her to eat, noticing the loss in appetite she kept ignoring, blaming it on her stomach troubles. 

Nonetheless, she never protested when he wanted to feed her, always cooking or ordering something from outside. She felt like a baby in those moments, with him practically begging her to open her mouth, putting a smile on her face instead. 

They talked a lot over those weeks, with Heeseung opening up about his past and traumatic childhood, sharing the fragments of his parent's death and how it has affected him. He talked about the car accident, the one he was also in. He was the sole survivor, the sole person to exit the hospital and not be transferred into the morgue.

He had never told anyone before, and conveying the lingering heartache was such a relief that he couldn't stop talking, gathering up every detail he had in his memories. 

In a way, it connected the two more, having gone through the tragedy of losing a loved one. Y/N couldn't help but notice the feeling of safety in his company. The more he transmitted, the closer she felt, like she could trust him with her whole life.

While she was fully aware of the effects he was having on her, Heeseung was too busy focusing on her condition to catch the sparkles of joy. 

Whenever she opened the door to him, he couldn't help but beam. His heart would fill up with contentment, dopamine levels increasing at the brief touches they shared, hiding the butterflies amassing inside. It was wrong for him to catch feelings after everything he caused her, and the guilt expanded in his chest at the realization.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who had caught up on the situation. Soon enough, her parents personally contacted him and asked to meet without their daughter's knowledge. They were the real reason for his departure, the why for abandoning her when she needed him the most. 

He never had the opportunity to tell her the truth, to tell her he didn't go on his will but was forced into that decision. He wished he could have told her he was threatened with being sued and losing his career forever due to their belief about his negligence on the mission. Either that or he had to leave her alone and go as far away as possible if he didn't want his life to be over. 

That is what he meant when he said he was a coward: a coward who couldn't even tell the truth. It followed him wherever he went, the mere image of her constantly transmitting in his thoughts.  

And now, the image was trapped in another nightmare with little time, falling into his hands yet again. 

This wasn't how he wanted to meet up, but fate had its way of managing things. The only thing Heeseung knew was that he couldn't let her down again. 

She had to come out of here alive.

No matter what it would take.

"You came," a raspy voice loomed from the darkness, causing Heeseung to hastily stand up and point his gun at its origin. 

His stomach dropped when he locked gazes with the criminal. 

"Kang Joon-Woo."

"It is I indeed," he fixed his tie covered in a fleur de lis pattern, showing off his wealth in the black tuxedo. His auburn slick hair drew attention to his green eyes, which turned stone cold once his gaze landed on the officer in front. They were empty, vacant, without any emotion. It was like staring into a deep well at night, manifesting fright and unpleasantness. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you again, Mr. Lee." his silver crown shone as the moonlight sheathed his face, lowering his head before looking back at him again. He exuded the same stare that day, slicing through deeply and threatening with its lethal power. 

Kang Joon-Woo, one of the lead rings of the cooperation of Kang Holding, was the chairman and the mastermind of the whole operation a year ago. Kang Jun-Seo was his right hand, more like a lap dog. 

They were both known criminals in the district he used to work in, successful businessmen who led one of the most influential companies in the city. They ran many hotels scattered over the country, using them as a front to conceal their actual intents by managing and commencing new deals. 

Beneath the surface, they hid several classified secrets, ordering various exchanges between dangerous parties. Some reports revealed drug usage and distribution, contacts with the black market, and even active participation on the deep web.

However, their main focus was on sex trafficking, exploiting young women for their income. It has been going on for many years, with the two predators selling out females to different countries, motivated by the big numbers on the cheque. They were both aware of how these girls would end up, forced to become objects for whoever had bought them. That was the twisted part in itself. The fact that the two went off to doing this.

He found out himself when he got ordered to take over one of these cases since the department had a lead and had a high chance of uncovering the trafficker's location, hopeful about the retrieval. So was Heeseung, especially after the Chief of Police had picked him out personally for the case along with two other ambitious corporals as the sergeant was sick that week, unable to operate. It was his biggest chance to prove himself and stand out amongst his coworkers. 

"Months of searching, and now I have you both at my feet," the snarky laugh punctured through.

"What have you done to her?" Heeseung looked back at Y/N from the corner of his eye, unable to bypass her drugged state. He knew he had to act before it was too late, struggling to piece a plan together at the revelation. 

"I just gave her some candy. You know the ones that bring you to another dimension?" he pulled out a pack of Arrirangs from his pockets, finding the whole situation hilarious. It was uproarious to watch the terror in Heeseung's eyes, darting from the girl back to him. 

"You fucker," Heeseung quickly hovered over her, checking her pulse and breathing. 

"Calm down," he scoffed in amusement, taking a whiff of the toxic elements his body lacked. "I need her to be alive as well." 

"What do you want?"

"Come on, Heeseung. You're smart enough to know," a sigh parted in the heavy ambiance, playing with the cigar between his fingers.

"You know goddamn well someone has to pay for the losses you caused on that day."

"Leave her out of it. She has done nothing."

"Who called you on us?"

"She did the right thing. They just chose the wrong officer."

"Fucking pathetic indeed. You couldn't even save her in the end, could you?" the man burst into laughter, brushing back his hair. He was loving every second of this.

"Since you failed to save her. Now, we need someone to replace her place."

"Jun-Seo was thinking about this beauty right here, but I told him it was too dangerous. Didn't I, brother?"

Heeseung froze at the callout, feeling the mentioned one's presence behind him. He also felt the weapon pointed at his head, threatening to be blasted at a slight movement. Every possible curse flashed in his mind, all pointing towards him.

He was screwed.

"Drop it," the baritone ordered. 

Before he could even look at the famous criminal, the man punched him in his back, amplifying his directive. Heeseung had no other option but to comply, slowly placing his gun on the floor. The guy immediately kicked away the weapon, far away from their reach. He stood there with his hands aloft, looking back at the man ahead.

"And what did I also say?" his tongue clicked, putting on a pair of black leather gloves.

"To have her, we must get rid of the cop."

"That's right." He snickered, approaching the injured girl. 

"Poor girl, she has no idea what's happening," his fingers wrapped around her neck, snickering at the beauty. He turned her face to the side, his filthy eyes scanning her features.

"Don't touch her!" Heeseung shouted, attempting to step closer.

"You better calm down." 

"Or do you want my brother to pull the trigger already?" her hair twirled around his finger, "I want her to see it first." He quickly pulled onto it, causing her head to fall with the snatch.

"No, she has nothing to do with this. I killed your men, not her. Let her go, now!" 

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, Heeseung. My client wants a replacement for his previous loss."

"And we decided to give him the other sister," the twin snickered, licking his lips. 

"You're fucking sick." Heeseung looked at the man above Y/N, passing on a distrustful smile. 

"I think we have waited far too long for this one," The snarky laugh punctured through, running his hands on her exposed thighs. 

"I said don't fucking touch her!" 

The delinquent just laughed and took a knife, putting it under her neck. He played with her hair, leaning closer to her ear, whispering something, and smirking right after. Whatever it was, Heeseung was sure it was appalling and lewd. 

"So," the edge of the weapon traveled down her T-shirt, "I'm going to have my fun." He sneered as its sharpness cut the clothing in two, exposing her body to the filthy losers. 

"And you're going to watch."

"You fucking piece of shit!" he jumped the guy, not thinking twice about it. They both rolled down the floor, one trying to keep the weapon, whereas the other risked to grab it. 

"I'll kill you. Right here, right now," Heeseung hissed, head-bumping him as soon as he had the opportunity. 

"You fucker," Joon-woo immediately covered his nose, staining his hand with his very own blood. He was sure it was broken, but it wasn't enough to stop him from returning the favor. 

Heeseung looked back at the other brother, who attempted to shoot the man in black, raising his arm to carry out the movement. 

However, Heeseung was quicker, avoiding the fatal hit by rolling over in time. He still had Joon-woo on his back, getting on his hands to perform a leg sweep. With that, he fell on his back, pushing all the air out of his lungs with a curse.

"You are dead meat, Mr. Lee," the man coughed out, barely having the energy to properly look him in the eye.

Heeseung knew he was minutes away from another blast from Jun-Seo's gun. Without wasting time, he quickly stood up and ran into the other perpetrator with full force. He successfully knocked both of them over, the firearm vanishing in the far distance. The stunt in the movement allowed him to yank and throw the firearm into the far distance. 

"Get him!" the other twin ordered, quickly taking out his Glock 19 to point it at Heeseung. Jun-Seo got on his feet again, shooting a death glare. Despite not having anything to defend himself with, he relied on his strength, rushing to him. His arm extended toward Heeseung's direction, and a sudden hand appeared in front of his face. 

"I should have killed both of you when I had the chance," Heeseung panted, evading each punch like a pro. It was too easy to fight with such an incompetent loser like him, managing to switch positions in the meantime. 

"We should have gotten rid of you two sooner," Joon-woo yelled, shooting into the brawl. He only didn't predict Heeseung doing the unthinkable by pushing the brother in front of him. The bullet entered the wrong body, disappearing in Jun-Seo's chest with a loud gasp. 

"No!" The shooter yelled at the turn of events, watching his twin fall to the ground right next to his feet. He panted in pain and brought his hands to the wound his sibling unintentionally caused, his eyelids losing their tension as his pupils dilated. 

"You piece of shit!" The scourge unleashed from between his lips, a pair of heartless eyes darting back. He looked back to see the cop with his gun right back where it belonged, pointed at him, the main suspect.

"You did all of this just for this stupid bitch!" He raised his arm, turning in the direction of the abducted innocence. 

"Step away from her," Heeseung yelled, blood rushing through his veins.

It was a relief to have taken down one of the obstacles in his way without getting his hands dirty. Nevertheless, there was still the main problem standing in front of him, aiming to assassinate his victim. 

He knew the sicko could pull off a dangerous stunt since his actions were unpredictable, scanning the expressions on his face. He was expecting furrowed brows, hands clenched into fists, or a death glare at least. 

All he got was a loud sigh, followed by a prolongated laughter. The kind of laughter you would hear The Joker do in a quarrel with Batman whenever the two would argue. It was almost as if he was amused or pleased with the outcome, even though his brother was lying inches away in a puddle of blood, practically minutes away from dying.

"You really are a jokester, Mr. Lee," he lowered his gun, ignoring the confusion on the cop's face.

He just passed on a stare and a scowl, fidgeting with the weapon in his hand like it was a toy with no bullets in it. His behavior was so bizarre that Heeseung couldn't help but stare at him in confusion. 

The thing was, the stare he carried didn't belong to someone who had just given up. It wasn't of someone who just surrendered and accepted his fucked-up fate. 

It was the complete opposite of what it was supposed to be -malicious, daring to some degree as if he was taunting him with his capability. He challenged him with a gradually growing smirk. 

At that moment, Heeseung realized it wasn't a renunciation but a part of the plan. The plan that had been constructed from the beginning. Composed to every little point to lure out the enemy. She was his weakness, and they damn well knew about it. They were cruel enough to use it against him. 

With another look, he noticed the turnabout in Joon-Woo's glare, the shade of wrath igniting. 

"For thinking I would let her off so easily," the loud bang emitted through the silence, a sharp "pop" following right after. The noise yielded Heeseung to register the situation, his eyes widening as they quickly scanned for the landing. His gaze landed on the girl in the chair, uncovering a bullet point of entrance on her chest. 

Heeseung's heart dropped as he looked over to the side. 

His eyes widened in horror, staring blankly at the injured girl.

His body went numb, but he still tried to remain as stoic as possible.

All he could do was stare, frozen in fear, as the girl's white shirt slowly turned red.

Heeseung knew he couldn't repeat the same mistake, not hesitating to respond as he pointed his gun directly at the shooter. It was what had to be done. Jun-Seo was going to die today, next to his brother.

His heart skipped a beat as the adrenaline rush towards his veins intensified. He pressed the trigger, watching the evil twin staring back at him in shock, falling back. 

The loud thud confirmed the man was no longer alive, the bullet in his head adding to reason. 

Heeseung slowly approached the corpse, looking at him one last time to ensure himself. 

At that moment, he indeed felt the unbearable weight on his shoulders falling off, all of it evaporating in the air. 

Heeseung finally exhales, dropping his gun to the floor. His heart rate slows down, but the poundage in his body becomes heavier, almost as if the world was collapsing in on him.

"Where-" he quickly turned around at the origin of the sound, his eyes meeting the girl's.

Heeseung instantly rushed to her side, trying to assess the damage.

Her blood flowed onto his hand as he pressed it on the entrance wound, attempting to stop the bleeding.

"I'm going to save you, just hang on..." he whispered, applying pressure after dialing his collegaue. 

As she struggled to remain conscious, her eyes locked into his.

She was unable to express her gratitude with words, so she gave his hand a light squeeze, letting him know that she understood his intentions.

She trusted the man for some reason, even though she couldn't see his face. Everything was pitch dark.

She hoped for the misery to end soon, letting her eyelids rest.

She only waited for the moment to end, for the afterlife to welcome her.

Heeseung was overwhelmed with worry and fear. He knew how close she was to dying, watching her breath grow shallower and more shallow after each passing moment.

He saw her eyes flickering in and out of consciousness, but all he could do was gently stroke her hair away from her face, hoping and wishing for a miracule. 

His hand rested on her chest, feeling her heartbeat. He desperately implored it to keep going, pleading with the higher powers, begging them not to let her slip through his fingers.

"Don't leave me, please," he whispered, kissing her hand.

Heeseung noticed her breathing pattern becoming erratic, her pulse slowly becoming weak, indicating that she was losing the battle for her life.

"Don't go," he whispered, placing his face closer to hers, willing her not to leave. The tears rolled down his cheeks, shaking his head in denial. He desperately tried to keep them from falling again.

"Please stay with me," he beged, unable to handle the thought of her dying in his arms. He continued to caress her cheeks, his voice muffled as his face grew redder and redder.

"Please..."

He recalled all the memories they encountered, the bad and the good, and burst into tears again. He didn't even try to stop them, unable to hold it in any longer.

"I don't know what I'm going to do without you..."

Heeseung's voice filled with anguish, and ha piece of his heart ripped out of his chest. 

His desperation grew as her heartbeat grew weaker and weaker. Her chest rose and fell, labored. 

Each breath was battle for her life, and her body was not winning the fight. It started to grow cold, and her heartbeat became even fainter, as if it was trying to slip through his grasp.

"I'm so sorry." 

"I should have protected you," he cried, pressing into her chest. 

"I love you, Y/N."

Her hand rested on his, a faint smile spreading across her face. 

---------------------------------------------

"Y/N," 

"You-"

"It's you?" her brain refused to believe the alternative, pacing back and forth, forth and back, like a spectator at a tennis match. 

Lee Heeseung? 

Her Lee Heeseung?

No, that's impossible.

She foolishly wanted to hold onto the strand of hope even though it was perilous. She knew it would relish on painting her walls within in qualm, scribbling various disquietude lines, and doodling frightening visions.

It appeared so compulsive, eyelids concealing the water amassing beside. The droplets traced her rubicund cold cheeks, reaching the corners of her quivering mouth. She tasted the woeful hopelessness accumulated over the past months. 

How hopelessly she wished for it to be real.

For him to be with her. 

If there was one thing she had been yearning for, it was his return. 

Somewhere deep down in her shattered soul, she dreamed of a reunion. A reconvene in which she could hold onto him without fear. Without having to worry about him letting go once she would look away. Without being afraid of falling asleep because he wouldn't be there in the morning. 

It was the only thing she had been longing for. 

"No. You're not here. I'm seeing things again, right?" She looked around, laughing while groping the mattress. Doing so, she failed to detect the unknown material, repeating the same motion. It wasn't the same at home. It wasn't the latex filling she was used to. 

She swiftly looked around, eyes darting around the unknown layout. They glanced over its walls sheathed in snow without a single trace of a painting, the dim lamp gleaming in the corner. It smothered the gloominess in a soothing tint of beige, strangely comforting. 

It was so familiar, yet so unknown. 

Was it because this wasn't her first time being in this room?

"Why am I here?" Her rapid breathing complicated the question's delivery, hands clutching onto the duvet to prevent them from shaking even more. 

You fool.

She looked down, studying the IV line inserted in her vein. Her eyes popped out of their sockets, desperately trying to recall what had happened to put her in this situation in the first place. 

"Calm down," the man beside appeased, holding her hand. 

Compared to her ice skin, he was a burning flame. 

He wanted to believe it was because of his anticipation and not because of her declining health. 

He didn't want to be attentive to her paper skin or her bones visibly sticking out. Oh, how much he wanted to believe her knuckles weren't poking out next to his hand. 

However, he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to denial when these were all the signs he harbored before. 

The last time he saw her, his thumb couldn't reach his pinky finger. When he wrapped them around her tender wrist now, they managed to join. 

All of these signals were so familiar that he couldn't ignore them. They weren't normal and he knew from experience what effects it could have if not properly treated. Consulting with the doctor during her sleep was a necessary procedure, but he couldn't tell her everything now. 

For God's sake, she couldn't even acknowledge it was him caressing her hand. 

He felt like a stranger sitting there, with a worried expression and no response. He didn't know what to do. The only thing he wanted was to hold her and tell her everything was over. That he had finally accomplished what he should have done a year ago. Something he owed her from the day they met.

Where was the feeling of joy he was supposed to encounter? First and foremost, he executed an outstanding performance on the job tonight. Thanks to him, the case that was open for years had finally come to an end. It was due to his commission the two criminals now lingered behind bars.

"Is this one of those dreams again?" she suddenly grasped his shirt, unable to distinguish fantasy from reality. She held on to the cotton fabric with dear life, knuckles beginning to hurt as the grip amplified. The oaky fragrance disbanded into the air, entering through her nostrils to allow a segment of remembrance. 

Her fingers slid against the black clothing, studying the outlines of it, tracing down and up again. His chest rose with each unanticipated touch, brows sliding upwards to inscribe a few lines. Worry was written all over them when she gaped at him in confusion, refusing to accept his existence.

"Where I hopelessly look for you and never manage to find you?"

The headache was overlapping her brain in confusion, and she struggled to fathom her surroundings. She didn't comprehend the quick change of emotions on his face, looking at her as if she had announced the death of a close relative. In the end, she went through these nightmares almost every night. So, it wasn't abnormal to her. Yet, his stare was intense and frightened, screaming in concern, the complete opposite of her disclosure.

It wasn't.

It couldn't be after all.

He left a long time ago.

"I'm tired of those dreams," her voice broke down, replacing it with a weep, "because I never manage to find you." She broke down, releasing the suppressed pain gathered in her system. 

The mere thought of them ran shivers down her spine, completely despising the state they left her in. The number of times she woke up crying, desperately trying to hold onto the comfort beside was too much to count. The way she would open her eyelids only to realize there was nothing but a cold and untouched bedside. 

She would always look at the empty spot with hope. 

Hope he would come into the room with that dazzling look and hop back in the bed to hold her tight in his embrace. She wanted him to say everything would be okay, just like he used to. She wanted to hear his smile again, see his laughter, and feel his love in her hands. 

Was it that selfish to ask for the undoable? 

It was.

After all, he had always been a far stretch - an unreachable beauty, like a star in the sky she could only admire from afar. Too unreal to be authentic. Too perfect to exist. Too good to be true. Just like their relationship. 

Even stars die eventually and gradually start fading away. It was simply natural for them to end as well. 

So why was it so hard to say goodbye?

Over 365 days have passed since the day, and Y/N still stood at the beginning of the road. It was as if her feet were glued to the floor, trapping her in the moment she desperately tried to eradicate. 

If a samurai's katana could slice through her stomach now, it wouldn't manage to do more damage. Nor his bow stricken to embed in her lungs. It would simply sting for a second before disappearing into the mist, just like everything else in her life. It would form a pool of blood beneath, assembling a shattered reflection. A reflection she would reach for and fall into its never-ending well of hatred and pangs of conscience.

"I did something wrong, right? That's why you left. I was so annoying with my constant mood swings, wasn't I?" 

Heeseung closed his eyelids to prevent the accumulated sadness from firing, trying to stay collected so as not to evoke more sorrow. 

His hands turned into fists, aching to swing on the coward's head.

What a selfish idiot he was. 

He was going to cry? Him? When he was the reason they were both in this room right now?

It was his decision that caused all of this. He wouldn't be right back at the start if he hadn't given her up for his stupid career. If only he had just listened to his inner heart, things could have been different, better.

It was like someone was ripping him open, cutting and slicing with the sharpest blade, puncturing endless rebukes. Not only was he screaming from the pain, but also from witnessing Y/N uncontrollably crying in front of him. 

Her petite hands held onto her hospital gown, slanting over to let out all the misery he had caused her. She couldn't stop herself from wailing in agony and torment, feeling so hopeless and confused with him reappearing in her life. It was a hard pill to swallow. The kind that gets stuck in your throat, and water cannot drown it. 

"I'm so sorry I couldn't control it," she sniveled, clutching her hair tightly and pulling it to inflict more pain on herself. 

"I'm so sorry," she screamed into the duvet, countlessly snuffling. Her cries were muffled, the airways between her lungs and nose becoming tighter with each one. She was practically yelping for air, hyperventilating. 

"I love you, Lee Heeseung. I love you so much that it hurts," her trembling index pointed towards her heart, repeatedly tapping her chest.

At this point, she was out of breath, wailing and gripping her clothes as if they could release the painful embrace around her chest. She lifted her gaze to meet the apples of his eyes. They were glutted with sorrow and guilt, heartbreak and commiseration. They were merely reflecting his feelings - complete hopelessness. 

"I can't live without you, Heeseung. I can't-" Her sob got cut off by his sudden maneuver, palms gently cupping her cheeks before drawing her face closer to him. Now, he stared into her chocolate eyes, gazing at his hickory ones with surprise. 

"I love you more, Y/N." His nose rubbed against hers, foreheads aligning with one another to create an intimate moment between the lovers. They used to do this often, almost every morning, just holding each other and laughing in joy. It was like a routine, something mandatory before getting out of bed.

"More than anything else in this world," his tears caressed hers, tracing them upwards with his lips. He replaced the traces of sorrow with caring pecks, making sure to collect every drop. 

"Heeseung," her hand clutched his shirt, trying to stay sane even though, deep down, she was melting in his touch. 

He lightly tilted her head back, gaining access to her quivering mouth. She had it slightly ajar, huffing the compressed air through the small gap. Waves of electricity were dashing down her cells, causing an upheaval of homeostasis. The more he looked at her, the harder it got to breathe without a strain on her lungs. She had no choice but to say, "Please, just kiss me."

There was no time for that request to have been adequately thought through, as the circumstances deemed the opposite effect. For once, Y/N didn't want to think over her decisions. She wanted them to happen and worry about the consequences later. 

"Can I really?" his hand slid back, holding her head to grant her maximum relaxation. 

"You fool, I just told you to do it."

"I only want to make sure," he murmured, his lips automatically attracting with hers, like two magnets of opposite poles. 

Perhaps it was a lofty comparison, but the way neither side hesitated before carrying out the deed proved otherwise. They have been yearning for this moment ever since they have parted ways. 

Hell, they spent all of their time convincing themselves they weren't a match made to last for centuries when they were. Their love was so powerful that the glue in their bond never dried out. 

Even though they were two completely different people, it was their love that brought them together. No one could change that.

"No one."

"Not ever," he whispered while he damped her lips with his wet and warm tongue, panting with each smacking sound.

It was like entering heaven. 

He could almost feel the bright rays of happiness encircling them with its mighty power, not to mention Y/N's whimpers, which were like music to his ears.

Or maybe it was his poetic description of this incredible ecstasy that made it appear so illusory. 

He felt like a teenage boy again. His hormones were all over the place, and his heartbeat was agitated with an uncomfortable tension in his boxers.

God was cruel for putting his body into this state, especially in this situation. However, he couldn't control it. A whole year without Y/N meant a year full of bottled-up pain and tension. He never went out and slept with someone else because he knew too well no one could compare to her. 

Fuck, no one could be her, so there was no point in doing anything reckless. Plus, his heart wouldn't be able to do something so dishonest. It was loyal, unlike him, and it never erased nor forgot the name of his soulmate.

"I missed you so much," she cried, her grip around him tightening, so afraid he would let go and the feeling of safety would disappear with him.

"I know, Y/N. I missed you, too." Heeseung's hand slid up her arm, then her neck, until his hands rested on her cheeks, and he gently pulled her closer.

"But I'm here now," he continued, his voice filled with tenderness and affection. "And I don't plan on leaving your side ever again."

She looked up with red eyes, swollen and aching from the pang inside her heart. "You promise?" she asked innocently, not ready to receive a no for an answer. 

"I promise." His voice was firm, his words soothing. 

He kissed the top of her head, feeling her grip tightening around him while tears still ran down her wet, rosy cheeks. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, refusing to let go. 

"I'm not going anywhere. Not this time."

As if by instinct, she buried her face in his chest yet again, breathing in his scent and feeling his warmth as he enveloped her petite body in his warm embrace. 

Y/N felt her heart beating faster, the rush of emotions overwhelming and confusing her in the process. God, how much she has missed this. Being held, taken care of, and loved. For the first time, she allowed herself to feel vulnerable and let out a pained sob. She had held it for so long.

"Breathe," he whispered in her ear, noticing her shallow breath in a poor attempt at composure.

Her body couldn't stop shaking in his arms, the waves of emotions and shock deluging her.

"I'm here." The man of her dreams whispered, his words soothing out the bump of worries in her head. He stroked her lusciously dark hair once again, caressing her cheek as she leaned her head on the crook of his neck.

"I've got you."

That was all she needed to hear. 

They both remained in each other's arms, the silence broken only by their heavy breathing. At the same time, Y/N leaned in for his hands, holding them in hers. They were big and mighty next to her small and delicate ones, swallowing them in his palms. She played with his fingers, wrapping her digits around each one like an adorable baby. 

She has done this so many times before. It felt so natural each time as if their hands were sculpted to fit between the gaps of their fingers. Every insertion and removal was smooth like butter. She repeated it over and over because she couldn't get enough of it.

It was his hand she was holding and her hand he was kissing.

"Is this alright?" he asked foolishly.

She replied with a passionate kiss instead, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling the strong man as close as possible. Her body pressed against his, so gentle with each movement that it made him shiver. He leaned into the squeeze, letting go of his worries once and for all, only focusing on her warmth blending with his. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, the heat of her against his own sparking lascivious ideas. 

Her lips pressed softly against his skin, enticingly murmuring her name as a result. 

"Y/N..."

"I missed hearing you saying my name," she whispered into his ear before gently biting onto its helix.

Heeseung closed his eyes and exhaled a deep and long breath. He leaned closer and caressed her chin, tilting it upwards so he could meet her eyes again.

"I want to be with you forever," he said softly, hand gently caressing her hip.

"I want to wake up next to you every morning and sleep with you by my side."

"I want to hold your face and feel your lips on mine every chance. To feel our love growing more and more each day."

"I want to spend my life with you. To know you're my home, my heart."

She gaped at him in shock, not expecting to hear such a meaningful trail of confession after everything. It contradicted his ambiguously lengthy absence in which Y/N went through hell thinking about what she had done wrong. 

Now, he sat before her, eyes full of ardor and sincerity, brushing his devotion on her like a naked canvas. 

"I've made the mistake of letting you go once," he held her hand, placing it on his chest. She felt his rhythmic heartbeat gradually increasing with each prolonged second of his speech. 

"I won't make the same mistake twice, Y/N." 

Heeseung's voice is filled with sincerity and truth, determined to finally carry through his feelings to her like he should have done. 

"I can't promise I will always be perfect," he expressed, his hand intertwining with hers. "But I promise, I won't let anyone tear us apart again."

He squeezed her even tighter as if she was the only thing holding him together.

"What do you mean? Who tore us apart?" her face changed instantly, confusedly staring into his apprehensive eyes. The cat was out of the bag, and Heeseung finally had to face the harsh side of reality.

Instead of answering, however, his gaze drifted away. 

His expression became darker, pupils dilating from the rise of anger within. It wasn't directed towards the reason, but himself. He was furious for preserving this crucial information from her for so long.

He looked away, his hand still over hers as he tried to find the words. He took it and brought it to his lips, gently kissing it as he spoke.

"Your parents..." Heeseung said quietly.

"They never approved of us, and I knew."

Heeseung paused, unsure of how to proceed or what to say next. He didn't want to ruin her relationship with her parents or affect their reunion. Telling the truth was the best choice, but he wondered if she would forgive either side.

"They threatened to sue me and ruin my career. They said I was negligent on the mission. That I wasn't a good enough person to be with you."

He stared at her, doubtful of how much information to share. 

"They didn't want me to talk to you ever again," he disclosed, his tone guarded. "They told me either I stayed away from you or they would ruin my life."

He sighed and looked down at the ground, a slight sense of shame on his face. 

"It was their disapproval, combined with the threat of losing everything, that forced me to leave."

"So you chose your career over our love?" she scoffed, pushing his arms away.

"Your career was more important than our relationship?"

She shook her head in disappointment. 

"No..." Heeseung quickly replied, stunned and hurt by her sudden change of attitude. "You know I'm not like that."

The truth was that he completely understood her reaction. He responded to his terrible decision the same way, turning against himself for being such a selfish prick. 

Nevertheless, so much was at stake that he couldn't have done it differently. That's what he wanted to explain. To make her see his point of view and hopefully make her understand. 

"You're the only person who knows what I had to go through to become an officer, Y/N. You know what kind of future I envisioned for myself, for us."

He wavered, rethinking his wording so as not to make it sound wrong. His voice slightly trembled, incredibly scared of what might come after all of this. "It would have been my entire future they would have destroyed."

She shook her head in denial, not wanting to believe her bloodline would stand in the way of her happiness. She couldn't believe her mother and father put her into that misery and pretended to be clueless. 

They blamed him for everything, constantly pointing out how right they were about him from the beginning of their relationship. They kept telling her that he would eventually leave and never look back when, in reality, they were the ones who would cause it to happen. They were pulling the strings behind her back. 

This whole time, while she deteriorated from the uncontrollable pain all alone, they were the culprits of her suffering. 

"I," she covered her mouth, the urge to vomit intensifying at the repulsive revelation. 

"Why," she looked up at him, anger and resentment burning in her eyes. 

"Why didn't you tell me right away?" she whispered, her voice hingeing from the lack of power.

Heeseung shut his eyelids, unable to speak at first due to the words choking him up. He couldn't even look his love in the eyes as he lowered his face in remorse.

"I thought you wouldn't believe me," he replied calmly, his voice full of emotion. "They are your parents, after all."

Heeseung searched for the correct words to express what he felt in those moments right before he took the decision to leave her for good. 

"I thought me leaving would be the least painful, the least harmful choice. I didn't want to ruin your family for one incompetent coward like me."

"Bullshit!" she yelled, throwing all of his attempts away. She was so angry at him and her parents all at once that it molded into one tangled wool of wrath that gushed obstreperous amounts of ire. 

"I would have believed you, Heeseung. These are all just excuses-"

"How can you say these are just excuses," Heeseung oppugned, his voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

"You think I liked being forced to make that decision? You think I liked seeing you in pain because of me?"

He sharply inhaled, almost hissing when exhaling. The words were pouring out of him as fast as a waterfall, and no one could stop him from speaking his mind now.

"Don't you think I regret all of it? Don't you think that I wished every single day that I had just told you the damn truth?" he snapped back, his tone rising at each word. 

"Do you have any idea what I went through this last year?" she shut him down, firmly pushing him away.

Do you have any idea what I was thinking this entire time?" she panted, the wrath inside her escalating through the roof.

"I thought I wasn't good enough for you, that I couldn't even make you happy, that you left because I only rubbed off my bad mental state, and you couldn't handle it anymore. This entire time, I thought it was MY fault you were gone, and I wanted to die." The curses escaped her chapped lips, fists hitting the mattress out of frustration and lack of control over her emotions. Her eyes burned with ire and disarray, quivering from undergoing sudden shock.

"Every day, I dreamt about dying. Every night, I hoped I wouldn't wake up the next day and that I would just die." She shouted into his face, her yells soon enough turning into painful sobs. 

"After you left, Hee, there was no point for me to live anymore."

Heeseung stared at her, totally awed and stunned by her words. He was blind this whole time, ignorant about what was happening behind the curtains.

He couldn't form a sentence, experiencing such strong and intense emotions that he couldn't even find the words to describe them.

"I tried to end my life so many times," she cried, covering her face with trembling hands, entirely losing control of her body.

Chills ran down his spine at the weight of the last sentence, which unraveled the extent of her suffering. 

His worst fear became true: she was hurting because of him. 

From the start, he tried to do what was best for her future. Yet, he only made it all worse. He ruined her and became the cause of her nightmares, of every second of her affliction.

His heart broke into a million pieces. The amount of guilt he had never experienced before struck him intensely, leaving him breathless.

Tears slowly rolled down his cheeks as he realized he had worsened her depression. 

First, he took away the person who loved her the most and then disposed of the one she loved the most. All at the same time, because of him. 

He wanted to shout, to kick himself for being so oblivious. He wanted to hug her and hold her, cry with her, and beg for forgiveness.

But all he could do at that moment was stand like a deer caught in the headlights, completely speechless.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured.

"I never wanted to cause you... pain." His voice broke as he said those words, the guilt eating him alive.

"I-I should have been there for you, I-" Another sigh parted away.

"I failed to protect you."

"Yea, you fucked up. Now, go," her tone drastically changed, sitting up as she crossed her arms, head turning towards the window.

The world outside seemed so much calmer than the one in the room, the tension sticking on the walls.

Heeseung didn't know what to say. He tried to protest, to say something, to do anything to fix things, but after your dismissal, he knew he had to accept the fact that he had messed up beyond all reasoning.

He walked towards the door, waiting for her to change her mind and ask him to stay. 

However, his wish was replaced by a soft "go."

No other words were necessary for this goodbye.

He turned to face her one final time, his eyes full of regret and misery. They couldn't even match hers for more than two seconds before a tear rolled down his cheek.

He had to look away, refusing to see the pain in her eyes and her trembling face.

"No," he said, turning around.

Heeseung was frustrated and felt misunderstood, lost in the words of frustration and anger thrown his way. 

It broke his heart to hear her say these things. Although he expected the worst possible scenario, he couldn't come to terms with this alternative. There was no way he would let her go again. 

He paused, taking a deep breath to process what he was hearing.

"I failed you as a lover and a friend," he whispered, the tone in his voice filled with sorrow and disappointment. 

"I should have been there for you, I should have stayed and fought."

Her stare was still focused outside, refusing to communicate with him further. There was a lot of bitterness and pain inside her to pursue a polite conversation. Any minute, she would go off like a bomb. He was pushing the time until detonation.

Heeseung took a deep breath yet again, looking around the room in disbelief.

He had never seen her so angry before — not even when she was angry with her parents. This was a whole new level of anger.

He couldn't bear the thought of leaving in such a condition while being furious and hurt. Even if he thought she no longer wanted him around, he needed to prove that was not true. He wanted to prove to her his love was real and was not as shallow as she thought.

"Don't make me call the staff and get you kicked out," the threat set a foot on the floor, directly aiming at him.

She finally made eye contact, handing a cold glare, her brows furrowed and her nostrils flared.

For a few seconds, Heeseung was utterly stunned by her sudden threat and the intensity of the stare. Once she made eye contact, he saw deep down the pain and hurt that she was frantically trying to mask.

"I just want to say one more thing before I leave," he whispered, his tone gentle and apologetic. He looked away, unsure if he was doing the right thing.

"I don't want to hear anything from you," she sat up and got her slippers, aiming to stand up and walk him out.

However, a sharp groan escaped instead, her hand automatically positioning on the ache in her chest. His heart sank once again as he noticed the sudden wince in her facial expression.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice full of worry and concern.

He wanted to reach out but knew he did not deserve to comfort you in such a critical moment. It was all his fault.

Therefore, he remained standing, but only a meter away, as his worries grew over.

"I just need you to leave me alone." her expression changed nattily, practically hissing out the sentence.

He remained silent, not saying a word.He could hear her breathing and the slight wheezing with each inhale. Other than that, there was only the silence of the room.He couldn't find any words to say in such a situation, not when her voice bore hatred and disdain.

Slowly, he backed away from her, his feet making light sounds on the floor, almost unable to hear them. She winced when attempting to slightly move, each muscle in her body tensing at the unexpected action.

Tears summon in her eyes, crawling back from the overlapping ache and sorrow combined into a deadly mixture. Heeseung noticed how her body reacted, recalling the doctor's orders. He couldn't hold back anymore. He couldn't stand idle.

"Wait," he said quickly, his tone filled with worry and panic. He rushed to her side, putting a hand on her shoulder to prevent her from getting up.

"God, you're such a-" Her whine swallows the curse word, shutting her eyelids due to the ascending pain.

"You can hate me as much as you want, but you must lay down this instance," Heeseung sighed, noticing her effort at resisting his actions even if it was all for her safety. He tried to lay her down slowly but firmly, making sure he didn't hurt her any further.

He gently pushed her backward on the bed, hoping the pain from the movement didn't worsen.

"You're a pain in the ass," she coughed, eyes still closed to avoid any form of direct eye contact. His presence beside was enough to rile her up and clench her fists.

He had to hide his smile as her attempts to push him away and the occasional bursts of insults were adorable. She might have been furious at the moment, but her actions gave away the small hint of weakness underneath.

It made him want to apologize for coming back at the wrong time, but he remained silent and waited by her side for the pain to subside.

He sat on the edge of the bed, looking out of the window with a heavy pang in his heart. He stayed silent for a while, content with sitting in silence, even if she was still furious at him.

He occasionally glanced at her with a sorrowful look, as if he was sorry for causing you so much pain and distress.

Slowly, he turned his head back towards the window and exhaled, the only noise he made for the following minutes.

"I should be furious and mad at you for everything," she whispered, "Yet, I can't because it hurts even more."

Heeseung's eyes widened once she spoke up. She might have not looked at him, but he heard her perfectly.

She still sounded angry, but it sounded more like regret than anything else. It was the first time he saw her defenses crack, and he was starting to wonder how long until she completely broke down.

"I prayed every night to see you again, to be held in your arms," she paused, suppressing the wave of tears from flushing down her face.

"I-" she put her arm over her face, fighting herself from speaking up further.

He remained silent, watching her struggle with her emotions. He couldn't help but feel a pang in his heart seeing her trying so hard not to break down in front of him.

With a light, tender gesture, he wiped the tears away from her cheeks and put his hand over her fist, trying to hold her fingers while remaining careful about the injuries.

"I hate you," she whimpered.

"I hate how much I love you after everything."

Those words hit him like a knife to the heart.

Hearing her confess her love and hatred towards him was a bittersweet feeling. Although her words still harbored anger, there was no denying his heart was aching for her.

He looked at her, not saying anything, just staring, his eyebrows furrowing, waiting to hear what else she had to say.

"You broke me, and somehow-" she lingered on her words, snuffling, "you're the only thing I think about."

Heeseung's heart ached with each word she spoke, hearing the emotional confession.

He didn't quite know what to say. Her love for him seemed just as conflicting as her rage and hatred as if both were trying to take the throne as the primary emotion in her heart.

Her tearful, trembling voice made him feel vulnerable too, his entire being consumed by the emotions that made him want to hug her so tightly, wanting so desperately to make everything better.

"You turned me into a mess," she covered her face with her palms, refusing to be seen this vulnerable and weak again.

He couldn't even argue with that statement because, at that moment, he knew she was right. He had turned her into a mess. He had left her without a single thought about if she would be alright, what it would do to her given her psychological condition. 

He had forgotten how much she loved and needed him and how his sudden disappearance would affect her. He was unable to stand her vulnerable state any longer.

He grabbed both her wrists, pulling them away from her face, letting his eyes meet hers.

"Look at me," he said in the softest way possible.

He was doing exactly what she didn't want him to do.

She was concealing her reckless emotions from him, forbidding him to see her like this any longer.

At his words, she reluctantly let go of and slowly lifted her face. She didn't want him here, but she did. She craved, no, needed him.

She looked directly into his eyes, feeling her heart ache, not wanting this moment to end but also wanting to escape it. His orbs had the most solemn expression, looking at her with sorrow and empathy.

He couldn't help but feel how her emotions were constantly switching between rage and sadness, and although she didn't say the words, his heart was still willing to believe that she still loved him.

Because she truly did.

And that's why she hated herself so much.

Heeseung's heart couldn't take it anymore.

When she looked away from his eyes, he saw how much she was still struggling to keep her emotions from breaking down completely. He wanted to help her, he wanted to make everything better, but he didn't know how.

With a light tug, he pulled her close and tightly hugged her. The warmth from his body spread to her, the smell of his cologne filling her nostrils.

As if the whole world had turned upside down, she had officially reached her limits. There were no barriers in her way anymore and she let her emotions burst out.

At last, she allowed herself to cry in front of someone again. In front of him. In his arms, in his embrace, in his chest.

With the sound of her trembling breaths, Heeseung could feel how real this moment was. Every tear falling from her cheeks, every sniffle, and every sob.

He didn't mind one bit. He didn't care how vulnerable she was right now or how weak this moment made her look. To him, her hugging hugging him back and feeling her body pressed against his was all that mattered right now.

She was finally home.

She was finally safe again.

She was where she was supposed to be all along.

With her lover, her soulmate, her other part.

She could finally smile again.

Heeseung tightened the grip on her body, wanting to bring her as close as possible to fill the space of loneliness in her heart.

The feeling of her warm body against his was all he needed to feel complete again. It was like he found the last missing piece of the puzzle. With it, the picture was complete. His heart was finally beating again. 

He kept his arms around her, not letting go of her for a single second. He hoped that this was just the beginning of their second chance.

Her hands rested on his chest as she lifted her head, inches away from his lips.

He brought her closer, making the space between their faces even shorter. He slowly lowered his head to meet her lips, his breath slightly trembling as his heart pumped rapidly in his chest.

She moaned into the kiss, closing her eyes and letting him take control. She was so tired, both mentally and physically, but craved him intensely.

Their tongues collided against each other leisurely and intensely at the same time, desperate to have one another as close as possible. 

The kiss was hungry, both despairing for each other that they were practically devouring each other rather than just simply enjoying the moment.

Heeseung's arms tightly wrapped around her, holding her firmly against his body, his lips moving with a steady pace alongside hers. There was no need for any words, as their entire bodies had already expressed everything they needed to.

His hands ran under her hospital gown, sliding upwards on her back. She arched her back at the contact, moaning and lightly biting onto his lip.

Heeseung couldn't help but moan at her reaction. The feeling of his hands on her skin sent shivers down her spine, his fingers feeling like little sparks of joy spreading through.

He moaned against her lips again, wanting this moment to last even longer.

She was all his, and he was all hers.

There was nothing that could stop them from being so intimate and together right now. All the anger and hatred that lingered inside was washed away by the sheer joy of being reunited.

He began tracing her spine with delicate, light touches, sending a chill down her back despite the warm sensations that the gesture caused.

When his hands moved further up, her back began to arch involuntarily, breathing becoming heavier.

His fingers found themselves tangled in her hair, pulling back as the kisses became even more passionate.

"Someone could come in any moment," she panted as he pulled away for a minute, gripping his shirt for stability since she was in a daze. Any hospital staff could barge in, and she certainly didn't want anyone to catch her engaging in lewd activities...

Heeseung let out a chuckle at her reminder, still feeling his heart pump and his lips vibrating with a warm, fuzzy feeling.

"I don't mind," he whispered, his lips hovering near hers again, teasing.

At that moment, the kiss felt so perfect for him, so right that he didn't care if anyone saw them in such a vulnerable state. He looked around the room and back at her, a small, mischievous grin appearing on his face.

"You're crazy!" she wanted to protest, but he kissed her again, sliding his hand behind her neck so she could fully transfer her weight onto his hand.

"Don't worry," he said, getting up and heading towards the door, getting a "do not disturb" sign out of the shelf and putting it on the door's front handle before locking themselves in.

He was glad he had decided to take her to a private hospital, not only because the surgery was done quickly, but he could also stay the night with her.

She couldn't help but feel a little bit of relief wash over, knowing that they wouldn't be interrupted by anybody walking by. The two of you could finally have some privacy to let the passion and desire run free.

With the heat between both of them building up, Heeseung returned to the bed, this time straddling on top of her.

"Oh," she gaped at him from below, her hands holding onto his arms next to her.

Her gaze landed underneath his shirt as he hovered over her, allowing her to fully see his abs. They were still as sculpted and defined as she remembered, perhaps even more visible now. Her mouth slightly hung loose, biting her lip to conceal her arousal.

He looked down at her, seeing the intent stare at his abs as her finger lightly trailed towards the edge of his shirt.

With a soft smirk, he lifted his arms, letting her expose his entire upper body, the abs, and pecs flexing slightly as he moved. He let her admire and touch every inch of his muscle, even letting her trace the veins on his arms.

For some reason, seeing him suddenly topless caused a couple of fireworks to set off in her stomach, immediately looking away to hide the wave of heat mantling her cheeks.

Heeseung couldn't help but giggle softly at her shyness, finding it utterly appealing. He still got butterflies each time she blushed like this, finding it to be one of her most endearing characteristics.

He leaned closer, lifting her hands off her face and caressing it with his own hands.

"So beautiful," he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers.

"Don't be shy. You can touch any part of me you want."

"Hee," she panted, feeling breathless from the lewdness of his words.

He chuckled, noticing how overwhelmed she got.

"I can't believe how easily flustered you get."

He paused for a few seconds before placing one of his hands on her pink cheek.

"It's okay to be touched like this, you know," he whispered into her ear.

"You've touched my heart so many times already, you can touch me as much as you like."

"If you keep talking like that, I'll melt," she sighed, placing her hand on his face as his gaze only evoked more attraction.

Heeseung laughed, finding her response to his comments sweet. He could see her already trying not to blush and feeling quite embarrassed, which made him want to tease her even further.

"Is that so?" he inquired, looking at her with a teasing smile on his lips.

"Well, maybe it would be better to see you in liquid form. Then I could at least drink in your beauty all at once."

"What are you even saying!" She widened her eyes, slapping his arm and covering her mouth out of embarrassment.

Heeseung smiled and played with a strand of her hair.

"Am I making you upset?" he teased, "and there I was, planning on making you melt all over me so I could lick it all up." With a smirk, he brought his face closer to hers, letting her feel his breath against her lips.

"You're such a pervert," her head turned to the side on the pillow, closing her eyes as the tip of her ears began to redden.

"You like it, though," his voice was tinged with a teasing undertone, almost daring her to deny it.

"Is this making you nervous?" he asked lusciously, "maybe I should keep kissing your neck until you can't take it anymore."

She moaned and grabbed his back the moment his lips brushed against her neck, breathing heavier than before.

He knew damn well how sensitive her neck was, and he always used that against her. He smirked at her reaction to his kiss, noticing how her body tensed up.

As he continued kissing her neck and leaving hickeys all across it, he could hear how she was trying to repress her moans.He didn't plan on going too far with this, but he was incredibly tempted to make you her out with his touch.

She pushed him away for a minute, her whole body practically shaking from the stimulation.

Heeseung smirked, knowing he had pushed her limits with the kiss.

Still, he didn't hesitate one second to get close to her again and place light kisses across her face.

"Is that too much?" he asked, his voice still maintaining that teasing tone, "I could do even more you know. We have a whole night ahead of us."

"I hate you so much," she grunted, letting him peck her face with smooches.

"Such harsh words coming from such a cute mouth." Heeseung laughed as she kept resisting his kisses, only making him want to tease her more.

"You can hate me all you want, but you can't escape my charm," he grinned at her, kissing her forehead and letting his fingers trail downwards.

"You could have gotten me naked instead of blabbering on."

Heeseung raised his eyebrows and smirked at the straightforwardness of her comment.

"Is that an invitation?" he inquired, "cause if it is, then I accept it completely." He brought her close to his body again, still keeping a firm grasp around her waist.

"Let me make your desire come true."

"Be careful, it hurts," she sat up, holding onto him.

Heeseung smiled softly at her actions, letting her sit up and gently lifting her onto his lap. He saw how tired she was, the exhaustion of the surgery still weighing in on her.

"Are you sure you want to do this right now?" he inquired in a concerned tone, "we don't have to do anything, and still…"

He wavered for a moment, leaning her body against him.

"I still want to be near you."

She nodded, running her hands on his bare chest before giving it soft and tender pecks.

He let out a soft groan as his chest was bombarded with so many kisses, his body feeling warm at the spot her lips placed on. He let her body lean on him, enjoying the softness of her skin on his own. He couldn't stop but smile at how soft and gentle her every gesture was, making him feel the need to protect her.

She traced upwards, bringing her lips to his neck. She soaked up the smell of his scent, letting her lips slowly brush against his honey skin, licking and biting occasionally.

After kissing his cheek, she let her face rest on his shoulder, sighing at the warmth they were passing onto each other.

Heeseung cuddled her, running his hands through her silky hair as he enjoyed the closeness of her presence. They were both lying in silence for a couple of minutes, letting the quietness of the moment envelope them both. He felt content, and so did she. She floundered to explain it, but being in his arms made her feel safe and protected as if she was in a cocoon away from the outside world.

"Help me take this off, please," she pointed at her gown, slowly kissing him one more time.

"You don't have to say it twice."

He paused for a moment, feeling her tongue gently slide across his lips. It was as if she couldn't wait to feel his warmth all over her body. The thought made him eager to get rid of the clothing, so he began pulling the strings to the side, slowly untying them before she could slip the dress over her shoulders.

She looked down to see her chest wrapped with bandages from the surgery, sighing at the sight. Her eyes darted away, slanting a bit.

Heeseung's eyes followed her gaze, realizing how uncomfortable and self-conscious she must have felt about it. Wanting to ease her tension, he smiled and placed his hands on her shoulders before whispering next to her ear.

"You don't have to feel embarrassed or uncomfortable. I am your lover, and nothing you show me will make me love you any less."

With those words, Heeseung's voice was tinged with kindness, as he wanted to make her feel at ease and wanted.

"I'm sorry for looking like this," she lowered your head, trying to hide her chest.

Heeseung gently caressed her face, lifting it so he could stare directly into her eyes.

"Never be sorry for something you have zero control over." He lifted his hand and placed it on top of her chest, his thumb running across the bandages.

"I was here to support you during the surgery, and I'm still here now to support you through your recovery, and no matter what, I will always love you."

She felt her eyes watering, sobbing as his kind words caressed her soul with love.

He didn't hesitate to pull her in a tight hug, soothing her as he cradled her in his arms.

The comfort of his touch was evident, not only from how her body quivered from the sudden embrace but also from her sobbing. It was clear as a day that she was going through a lot, but the thought of being in his arms was enough to calm her nerves and soothe her soul.

"I love you," she whispered, looking for his lips with hers.

"I love you more, Y/N."

Heeseung brought their bodies closer. It was a tender moment, full of affection and love, as they shared a deep kiss full of care and adoration.

"So you still want me? Even though I look like this," she foolishly asked, worried he could be less attracted to her after the surgery. Not only that, but she had lost a lot of weight, and she wasn't comfortable in her skin.

Heeseung was instantly alarmed at the comment, well aware of her insecurities. The way she was concerned was the last thing he needed to see right now.

"Don't ever think like that again," he placed his forehead against hers, wanting her to understand how he felt.

"Nothing will ever make me love you less. You've been through this surgery and lost some weight, but have I ever told you how beautiful you still look? How much I still want you?"

"Please tell me," she hiccuped, getting goosebumps when he cupped her cheeks and softly caressed them in his big hands.

Heeseung smirked softly before leaning down to kiss her forehead.

"You are incredible to me. Nothing has changed how I feel about you. In fact, I feel that my love for you has multiplied, and I want you more than ever."

He waited for a minute, letting his words sink into her heart.

"You've gone through so much today, and all I want to do is take care of you and help you recover fully..."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing from receiving so much care and affection. She had gotten used to being alone and not having anyone for so long that she forgot how it felt to be loved.

Heeseung saw how his behavior was having a huge impact on her, and although he was touched by seeing her reaction, he also felt a certain joy in it, since it meant she was letting him into her life. The more she let him in, the more he felt satisfied, seeing how she accepted his protection. 

"Let me cuddle you again," he smiled, caressing her hair as he pulled her closer to his body.

"No, make love to me, please," she leaned back, letting him gently hold her close.

"I want you so badly."

Heeseung was a bit taken aback by the suddenness of her demand, but the tone of her voice was tempting and irresistible.

He let his hands crawl down her body until they ended up resting on her hips and butt.

"Are you sure you're feeling good enough to do something like this?" he whispered into her ear, not wanting to do anything that could potentially hurt her.

"As long as you're gentle," she smiled, caressing his face in her palm.

Heeseung let out a low growl as she touched his face, delicate yet sensual, enough to make him harder. The more she touched him, the more he felt his heart racing and his breath speeding up.

He moved in closer, their bodies touching from head to toe as her breath hitched.

"I'm all yours," she whispered.

Heeseung was speechless the moment he heard those words leave her mouth. 

It was the most beautiful thing he could ever imagine. 

Someone who truly loves him and wants to be with him.

He looked down at her, letting his orbs get lost in hers.

"Do you mean those words?"

She nodded, pressing herself onto his erection.

"My heart only beats for you and you only," she smiled, intertwining her hands with his.

He let out a low gasp upon seeing her take control, feeling some blood hastily flowing to his lower regions.

Her words were like music to his ears, and he kept grinning like an idiot. He was so happy she felt this way about him. He lowered his head, kissing the small space between her shoulder and neck.

"Take off your pants, Hee," she grabbed his belt, trying to take it off.

Her command had him on edge. He was so eager to obey that he didn't waste a second and quickly complied, undoing his leather belt and taking off his trousers as he sat on the edge of the bed.

Seeing him completely naked in front of her made her nervous, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear while looking over to the side.

Why did he have to look so ethereal and luscious?

The moment she averted her gaze to another direction and started playing with her hair, urging him to be even closer. He let out a slow breath and took in her appearance from head to toe.

She always had a way of looking vulnerable yet seductive that made his heart flutter with every heartbeat.

He leaned over, gently laying her back on the bed, getting on top. 

She gasped quietly, having him this close making her feel some type of way. Her hand wandered on his neck, pulling him lower to get a taste of his luscious lips one more time.

Heeseung moaned as she tugged him downwards and let her explore his body. It was a feeling that left him with no words.

He let his body rest on hers, making sure she was in a comfortable position as his hands roamed around her flawless body, trailing upwards until they ended up on her breasts.

She hitched once his warm palms held them, cautiously caressing them. Her hands rested upon his, guiding them to cup her breasts a bit more.

His touch was tender and careful, making sure not to hurt her while molding his hands to fit her curves. Her hands encouraged and guided him more, immediately tightening. Nevertheless, he made sure to keep the pressure at a minimum.

The feeling of the heat between their bodies, the sensation of their fingers running over each others' bodies, and the delicate kissing was enough to make his breath pick up pace as he groaned softly.

"You're so beautiful," she breathed out, every bit of oxygen getting cut off in her system whenever he looked at her with that dazzling gaze.

He sensed a deep level of contentment, letting his lips brush against hers. They were warm, and the feeling of her soft body under him left him feeling so excited that his heart would burst.

The fact she even wanted to be with him in that moment made the experience more fulfilling to him, the love only growing with each passing second.

He guided his mouth lower, from her neck to her collarbones, until he had reached her petite breasts, rubbing his face against them. He couldn't get enough of her scent and warmth, kissing and licking her nipples.

The tingling sensation of his tongue made her body shiver, bringing a rush of excitement. Her hands moved upwards to his hair, letting her fingers run through it. She failed to hide her moans, a few escaping, causing a surge of ecstasy to run to her toes, which curled in response. It was quite difficult to maintain her composure.

Her whimpers drove him crazy, glazing her teats tenderly like they were his favorite type of ice cream he couldn't get enough of.

She looked down at Heeseung's erection, grabbing it in her hand. Her fingers wrapped around it gradually, her heart rate racing, mind all over the place. She was lost in passion and had a hard time believing this was happening.

He leaned to her ear, his breath brushing over her after whispering her name. Her touch sent shivers down his spine, but he was also excited at the same time. It's been a while since the last time he had felt the sensation of a woman's touch on him, and he liked it.

She kept guiding her hand, traveling up and down his shaft. He continued twitching in her hand, overstimulated by her touch and existence. She struggled to properly inhale, the intensity of their activities sucking in all the clear oxygen roaming around the room.

Heeseung was going crazy. He was shivering and jolting, all his sensations heightening, and his body was becoming a little sensitive. She didn't have to touch his sensitive area to make him squirm. The way she used her hand to stroke him made any self-control he had left fly out of the window. The pleasure of her touch was overbearing.

"I missed you so much," she confessed, her thumb pressing on the head of his member, causing him to hiss in pleasure.

"I missed you too, Y/N," he whispered, letting a low moan slip out of his lips. She had his full attention. Not even his breath would slip away.

The way she took pride in making him squirm and moan, the way she traced him like a paintbrush across a canvas, made his heart skip a beat, wanting more of her.

He slowly thrust his member into her hand, practically using her to ease his arousal. She guided her palm gently down his shaft, letting him pleasure himself using her body. She kissed his neck, gently biting it. It was fun to care for the dominant one in the relationship.

Heeseung groaned as her lips kissed and nibbled on his neck. The feeling of the kisses left the blood running hot through his veins, sending a rush of heat through, slightly spasming below.

His hands moved down her body, one of them grasping her hips. She groaned as he felt his fingers circling her sacred part, spitting down for easy access inside.

"You shouldn't be doing this," he panted, his index playing with her clit.

"I should be the one pleasuring you," he stopped her from doing anything more, not wanting her to feel as though she needed to compensate him in any way.

His hand moved down to her body, skimming over her skin and body before settling down between her legs. His fingers caressed her folds, sending shivers.

"But I want to," she pouted, attempting to close her legs when his face was inches away from her exposed lower part.

"I know you do, but it's time that I got to return the favor to you," he cupped her thighs, squeezing them gently as he lifted her legs over his shoulders.

She covered her mouth, closing her eyes the minute his tongue brushed over her woman parts, causing her to throw her head back from euphoria.

Heeseung's touch was gentle but firm. He wasn't being forceful, he wasn't being rough, he was merely enjoying the moment of watching her body shake and tremble.

His hand moved lower and lower, his finger tracing your entrance.

His spit slipped inside, alongside his fingers, moving them in and out with ease while licking her clit. He pushed his fingers in more, curling them upwards to hit that sweet spot that would make her moan and groan in pleasure.

"Hee," she panted, drooling over how good she was feeling, tugging his hair since she needed to hold onto something. After all, she was going through cloud nine.

His touch left her gasping for air like a dying woman. She had no choice but to squirm and moan, letting a wave of ecstasy take over. It felt like she was in another world, the feeling extremely intense.

Heeseung's fingers circled and moved inside her, causing her to dissolve. She gritted her teeth, hands forming into fists as the pleasure overstimulated her.

His were moving slowly and methodically, focused on her that the world around him almost didn’t exist anymore.

It was as if the both of them were in their little worlds, enjoying the feeling of being together, their breathings syncing, bodies blending into one blossom. His hands slowly picked up the pace, going slightly quicker while remaining gentle.

"Hee," she called out softly, fighting to contain her lewd sounds, legs shaking slightly as the stimulations were overlapping. She felt like she was going to explode any second.

He knew what you were going through because he could see her expressions rapidly changing with each lick and curl. She was reaching that point where she couldn't hold it in anymore. It made him happy since this was proof that he was capable of pleasuring her to such an extent.

"I love you," she cried from the pleasure, arms crossing over her face to hold it all in. His fingers were quickly moving deeper and faster. He wanted her to experience as much as she could right now.

The words of affection got Heeseung feeling all mushy inside. He wanted to please her, to make her experience everything he could give.

"I-" her mind went blank, turning your head from one side to the other, feeling her climax building up inside. She was so close, and she couldn't hold on anymore. Her hand immediately grabbed his free one, tightly gripping it.

Heeseung didn't stop, speeding up to drive her over that edge.

"Hee-" she called desperately, legs shaking as he kept licking and moving his fingers quicker.

"Relax… Just relax, Y/N… Let go, let go for me," he said, his voice soft but commanding.

Without another minute, her nails dug deeper, her body shaking and tugging rapidly as she reached her climax, completely covering his fingers in her arousal. Heeseung smiled, licking all of her cum from his fingers and entrance, edging her with his kitten licks.

"Fuck," she cursed, overstimulated by everything.

She felt like all the tension had left her body - as if gravity had let go, and she was floating in the air. Her mind was blank, body trembling, breath quick and shaky as the feeling of pleasure was running all through your system.

"Heeseung," she whispered, pulling him closer.

He smiled a little as he moved his hand up to her cheek.

She wrapped her arms and legs around his body, kissing his neck over and over again.

"Please, put it in," she begged, resting in his embrace.

The moment she spoke was almost like music to his ears, and Heeseung knew exactly what you were asking for.

He gently pushed her down onto her back, leaning over with his hand trailing down her shoulder and chest to her neck. He let his other hand move lower slowly to touch her properly.

"Are you ready?", he whispered.

She kissed him, letting her actions speak. Her tongue immediately slid inside, breathing and moaning into his mouth.

He matched her energy, his tongue fighting with hers. He wasn't being gentle, neither was he being a beast. He was allowing the moment to unfold, not rushing it. The wet kisses were leaving them yearning for more.

"I don't want to wait anymore, Hee," she conveyed, wholly resting her body on the bed. Her legs were still wrapped around his waist, putting her arms above her head.

It was her way of letting him know that she was ready. That she needed him, now.

Those words sent his blood boiling, causing his member to twitch and jolt from the feeling of wanting her so badly.

He looked down at her marvelous body, noticing the position she had placed herself in for him - the invitation he saw in her eyes made him go wild.

He leaned down to her, his breath handling her with every word that came out of his mouth.

"Are you sure you can handle me?" he whispered, his voice a little low and husky from the intense moment.

"Stop talking and just do it already," her patience was getting thin, rubbing her lower part against his.

He grinned, unable to hold back the smile on his face after she snapped at him. With his body resting over hers, his hands went to the back of her legs, squeezing them slightly.

He looked into her eyes once more before pushing his body forward, aligning his shaft at her entrance. It wouldn't have been Heeseung if he hadn't teased first, rubbing his member against her slickness. He enjoyed watching her whimper in agony and frustration.

Her mind went blank the more he teased, swept away from his touch. There wasn't one single thought in her mind, merely focusing on this moment.

Her hands gripped his muscular arms, moans getting louder with each moment he rubbed against her beautiful body.

Heeseung's mind was on nothing but giving her satisfaction. Her legs gripped his back, voice becoming more breathy and soft as she wanted him to ease her arousal.

He smiled, and without a warning, he put himself in, his dick sliding inside her smoothly, causing both of them to moan loudly.

Her slippery and hot walls trapped him inside, trying to soothe his tugging and jerking shaft. He groaned, his abdomen drawing in at every push, shaking his head from the vigor of pleasure. She was unreal, her beauty, her body, just all of her.

Heeseung opened his eyes after calming down, his breathing deepening. His lips agonized for hers, huffing his compressed desire and longing into a powerful and passionate kiss. It was the longest one of today, sucking her lips in his mouth, his tongue grazing over, between, or under them continuously. He couldn't get enough, cursing at how unbelievable this was.

Her heart was beating so fast she could feel it in her ears, not believing that this was happening to her right now.

"H-Hees…" she could barely say his name as her voice quivered. He was using one hand to hold her against him, his other moving down to her hand.

"Y/N…" He breathed out, his voice husky and shaky. His thumb rubbed her hand, squeezing it gently to the point she could feel his touch.

The feeling of him being inside was a mix of many things, but the main factor was that it felt right. His body fit like a puzzle inside, like two pieces finally joining together.

She had used this expression before, but there was no better way of describing this bliss. It was too perfect to be true.

She was losing her mind, forgetting to breathe.

“Take a deep breath,” he whispered, the words barely audible from being so lost in the moment.

His hips slowly moved alongside her, their bodies now both thrusting together, absolutely lost in the moment.

All of his thoughts disappeared, the rush for pleasure consuming him. His lips met her shoulder between kisses, his tongue licking along it.

She did as he said, inhaling and exhaling filthy noises, turning him on even more. Her eyes were teary, not because it hurt, but because it felt too good.

“Good girl,” he whispered, caressing her hair.

His hips kept moving, taking longer, his back arching as he did. It took everything in him not to lose himself in the pleasure, to hold back and make sure that this was a long and enjoyable experience for both sides.

"Don't ever leave me again, please," she pleaded, realizing how emotional she was getting with each thrust. The fear inside was climbing over her walls, ready to ambush.

"Never," he vowed, kissing her with such desperation that he couldn't control himself any longer. It was like he was craving more of her.

Her hands held onto his hips, nails digging into his skin for support. Her legs were starting to give up, shaking from the intensity and ecstasy of their lovemaking.

Heeseung noticed her legs, moving his hand down to grip her thigh and hold it up slightly. He knew that he had to make adjustments to take it slower and not wear her out so quickly.

“Heeseung,” she breathed out, watching their bodies moving together with every single thrust. How he slid inside her and pulled away, completely disappearing inside her while hitting her hallowed spot. She threw her back, the image sending goosebumps all over.

He watched her body twitch and shiver, nails digging into his back. His breath was growing shaky, incapable of thinking about anything but being inside of her, enjoying the moment when the two of them were connected completely.

She looked at him through her droopy eyelids, toiling to look straight as he kept pushing himself deeper. Her mouth was drooling slightly, a light string of saliva tracing down her neck. This had to be what they meant by being fucked until your brain was empty.

"I love you," he moaned, his voice shaking and his breath increasing in speed. He could barely keep himself from falling in that moment; he was trying his best to keep a steady rhythm.

Her eyes rolled back, completely deteriorating in his thrusts. The deeper he fucked her, the more her insides quivered.

Heeseung pushed even deeper, his mouth open and his breaths coming out in small puffs of white air.

Her nails left long scratches on his back, losing control over herself.

"I'm here," he whispered against her neck. "I'm not going anywhere." Every word he said had a sense of urgency and determination to it. He was there, in her arms and he wasn't leaving her.

"I love you so much, Hee," she sobbed, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. Her moans occasionally slipped out due to his magical thrusts, becoming one with him.

"I love you too," he said quietly as he raised his other hand to her forehead and gently ran his fingers through her bangs. His hand came down to caress her cheek and he looked directly into her eyes. The passion he felt for her was overwhelming, and he couldn't think of anything at this moment but her and the wonderful moment they were sharing.

Heeseung moved his mouth back to her neck, kissing and nibbling softly. This feeling of belonging and unity between the two of them was just incredible.

His thrusts were longer but at the same time slower, his hand moving down her thigh and moving her legs down to his, he needed more grip for the both of their pleasure.

She bit her lips, eyes shutting at the phenomenal experience, throwing her head back and slightly arching. Her chest started hurting a bit, as their intercourse was getting a bit intense.

"Hey," he breathed, pulling himself out for a moment from your body. "Are you okay?"

It seemed that he caught on to the fact that she was beginning to feel some pain. He moved to the side and looked down at her, his face concerned.

"Sorry, it just," she pointed to the wound, exhaling loudly.

He realized that he made her discomforted. He couldn't stop himself from frowning, his face looking concerned.

"Don't apologize," he said, his voice a little low. "Just tell me what I can do to help relieve the pain, alright?"

"Maybe if we lay on our sides," she proposed, struggling to make herself turn

"That's a good idea," he helped her turn, leaning behind her and putting his arms around to help her stay in that position. His body eased into that position, laying his head behind her, arms holding her, and his chest touching her back.

"That's better," she smiled, breathing a bit easier now.

"I'm sorry for hurting you. I was enjoying the moment so much that I got a little carried away…"

"No, it's ok, I was enjoying it as much as you," she turned her head back a bit, grabbing his hands and putting it on her stomach.

Heeseung's body relaxed after her reassurance, leaning in more to wrap himself around her, the top half of his body covering her while the lower half pushed deeper into her.

She whimpered when he slid back in, squeezing his hands with a resonant sigh. This time, he was slower and more gentle, kissing from her nape all down her spine, leaving a lengthy trace of ardor. His mouth traced slowly down her back, turning his adoration into a sensational experience.

It was different this time because his concerns about her comfort were clambering. He never wanted to hurt her, only aiming to give her pleasure. Hence, he grabbed her leg, putting it over his so he had more space to enter deeper, to hit that spot that sent her through the roof.

As expected, she let out a deep gasp, the sound escaping from her almost involuntarily. Heeseung's tongue traced another slow line down her spine and back up again, savoring her taste.

He caressed her inner thigh, moving his hand back to her chest to play with her teats. His thumb and index grabbed them, twisting them around. He loved her appearance, but her breasts were the real treasure he never got enough of.

Words weren't able to describe how incredible this moment was, how their bodies connected and merged into one blossom of fervor.

His hands trailed up and down, drafting her marvelous curves. His touch felt light and gentle, yet there was still a sense of urgency and power behind it.

"You're so fucking beautiful, it's driving me crazy," he cursed, squeezing her breast.

"You're… you're so perfect," he spat out in between kisses, his body getting comfortable and used to this position. He bit down more forcefully on her neck, his kisses leaving more and more red marks.

"Hold me close, please," she whimpered, looking for his hands on her body.

"I got you," he said, body shifting to fully align with hers, arms gripping her from behind to tighten. He brought his face into her neck, his breathing speeding up with each kiss he gave her.

"Never let go," she sobbed, squeezing his hands with her trembling ones.

"Never, I promise," he pledged, holding her close to his chest.

She could feel his heart beating in time with hers, both sounding like they were about to explode.

"Never," she repeated, praying it was going to become true.

Heeseung kissed her deeply and passionately, pressing his body up against hers.

He was aware of her intonation, the worries raking in her head. Every kiss was stronger, more intense, and hotter than the last as he had to destroy all of them, one by one. His lips moved along her neck, tongue encircling on her neck, licking along it as he left no spot untouched.

She sat up, pushing him back on the bed. Heeseung's eyes widened, his reflexes quickly grabbing her wrists to prevent her from falling back.

She slightly groaned, lowering her head a little to catch her breath.

"Can you also sit up?" she proposed, wanting the two of you to make love while hugging each other.

He did as she asked, lifting himself a bit, leaning his back against the bed as he sat up with his legs spread. His hands held her back, one of his hands moving down to hold her leg as the other rested back on his. His mouth met hers, giving her a long kiss, not letting go of her in any way.

"I wanted to look at you," she voiced as she guided his shaft back inside her, scrunching her face.

"That's fine," he breathed out, his voice hoarse from being in her again, the constant switching driving his member to aggravate.

His eyes looked at her while her body trembled and twitched, his body feeling incredible. It was almost like being high, heavenly, and divine.

"I can feel your heart beating against mine," she smiled, her chest brushing against his, her perky nipples stimulating themselves.

Heeseung's heart beat faster every time she did that, her soft hands tenderly caressing his body, as if it would break in her delicate touch. She went over the muscles of his leg, his stomach, his chest, and eventually his arms. Her touch sent shivers down his spine and made him moan and sigh, realizing just how much she was driving him crazy.

"I missed you so much," she chuckled, masking the pain in her voice by cupping his cheeks.

"I missed you too," he breathed out, his lips locking with yours, making sure to kiss her deeply to show how much she meant to him.

Every kiss and bite seemed to drive a feeling of euphoria through his body, like every time he kissed her, a wave of happiness and satisfaction coursed through.

She closed her eyes when he caressed her back, circling it with a tender push. He made her feel so comfortable and safe, all with just one look, one touch, one kiss.

His kiss was the sweetest thing, his hands and lips exploring every inch of her. He wanted to feel all of her curves and touch every inch of her skin.

Her fingers wandered into his hair as the kiss deepened, huffing into his mouth while gently moving up and down, making both of them feel the most wonderful fractions inside.

He pulled her closer, their bodies wrapped around each other, unable to let go of one another. Their hands rested along each other's sides and their legs slightly entwined underneath.

Heeseung's tongue slid in and out of her mouth, exploring all of the areas he had already tasted before. He licked her upper lip after moving his hands down her hips.

He firmly gripped them, guiding her up and down his cock while he sucked on her neck, leaving trails of hickeys.

His breath warmed her icy skin and his lips kissed and nibbled along. Her body was starting to tremble and shake, his tongue returning to her lips. His kisses were extremely passionate, the ones where she forgot to breathe or think.

She pulled away, staring into his eyes through her lax gaze, mouth slightly agape, lips covered in their saliva. Her brain was empty, not thinking about anything but his presence and being inside her.

It felt like a deer caught in the headlights, clueless and innocent.

Heeseung smirked, watching her stare back but not knowing what to say. She appeared so pure it made him want to kiss her over and over again, fully swallow her in smooches and happiness.

He ran his fingers through her hair and pulled her face towards him again, this time gently kissing her neck.

Her wet lips brushed against his neck, quietly puffing and huffing. Her saliva was pooling on his shoulder since she rested her face on it, unintentionally drooling from the sensation.

Neither of them had any intention of stopping, wanting this moment to be eternal. When he saw how much she was enjoying herself, when he felt how aroused she was and how much he was giving her pleasure his lips curled into a satisfied smile.

His hands moved back from her cheeks to her hips again, squeezing her waist. His kisses still moved along her neck, his tongue occasionally nibbling at her collarbone and leaving it slightly red from the small love bites. 

She was drunk-dazed from his love and affection, from his kisses and touch, from his presence. One man was enough to wreck your entire world over and gather it up back, and that was Lee Heeseung. 

"I love you," he muttered. 

Nothing else was on his mind other than how gorgeous she looked, how incredible she felt, and how good it was to see every expression on her face from pleasure to satisfaction.

"Say it again," she murmured into his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"You want me to.. say it again?" he asked, his voice a bit playful, yet his smile warm and genuine.

He moved his tongue to the side of her neck, running it from her ear to her collarbone, kissing it softly.

"I love you."

"Again," she smiled, closing her eyes from the exhaustion.

Heeseung chuckled, caressing her cheeks and running his fingers through her hair.

"Hmm, should I?" He teased, his voice mischievous.

"Should I say it again?" His breath and hand fondled her neck with marks.

"Mhm," she nodded, lazily dragging her lips on his neck.

"I love you..." he breathed out, moving his lips down until they reached hers.

"How many times do you want me to say it?"

"Until the day I die," she mumbled, eyelids shut and mouth still drooling, body completely relaxed and leaning against his.

"I love you," he repeated, giving you a light kiss.

"I love you." Another kiss

"I love you." Another one.

"I love you." The last one, slightly rougher than the rest. 

"How much, though?" her eyelids open a little, giving him a tired, but extremely seductive look, the one he lost himself in each time. 

"Hmm.. let me think," he chuckled, feeling the hotness mounting in himself from her look alone.

"If I could, I would take all of your pain away and replace it with the happiness you deserve. I would give you the whole world just to see you smile in my arms every day. I would give my life to make yours wonderful. I would sacrifice anything just so you can feel safe and loved. "

She whimpered at his words, eyes watering and insides rolling over. Her nails dug into his back again, hiding her flushed, red face in his shoulder.

"I would fight for you and protect you with my life, not allow anyone to hurt you ever again. I would fondle you in love and affection, from the moment you open your eyes till you close them," Heeseung breathed out, her scent intoxicating him.

"S-stop," she whinced in pleasure, eyes rolling back. The more he spoke, the closer she was to cumming, his words messing up her insides.

"You're my world, my life, my home, my reason to breathe every day. I want to take care of you and protect you, make you happy, and keep you warm every single time you feel cold or sad," his breathing shallowed as he spoke, feeling incredibly turned on by her reaction.

"E-enough," she pulled back, throwing her head back. He grabbed her wrists, not allowing her to escape his love.

"Never," he responded, pulling her back into his arms.

"I want to be with you all the time, I want to feel your body against mine, I want to make you feel loved, I want you to be mine and me to be yours until we die."

"S-shut u-up," she stuttered out, knowing she was minutes away from her orgasm.

"Why would I stop? " he asked, moving his thumb over her shoulder, circling and brushing her skin with the slight graze of a nail, leaving little marks on her skin.

He was also close to his climax, so he was more determined to finish the job than ever. His body tightened around her and his kissing became more profound and stronger.

"You need to hear the truth," he hissed in her ear, clasping her buttocks in his hands, pushing her onto his dick. 

"H-Heseung, I'm gonna-" she trembled, biting onto his shoulder to keep her loud moans in.

"Don't hold it in," his mouth ran along her shoulder and her arm, the marks getting darker with every kiss.

"Cum with me, please," she pleaded urgently as if her life mattered to it. 

"I will, don't worry," he kissed her cheek, caressing her head. 

Without another minute, her nails dug deeper, her pussy trapping his shaft in her fully. Her walls spasmed in a periodic pattern, sucking him in. Her clear cum glistened his shaft, wrapping him in its warmth and comfort. 

"Good girl," he whispered, his jaw twitching slightly. He wrapped both of his arms tighter and pulled her into a messy kiss.

His release followed up right after, managing to pull out just in time to cover her abdomen in his crystal white load. He panted as his fingers traced his cum on her stomach, spreading it all across her. 

His other hand gently laid her down, licking all of his mess off of her, the same way he did with her own. 

Perhaps it was the overstimulation he loved to observe on her or the fact that she clung to him more after cumming. Either way, he didn't stop rolling his wet tongue along her body. 

"My good girl," Heeseung whispered into her slick hole, pushing his tongue inside to slurp up all of her cum like it was a treat. 

Did he love her? Yes.

However, was he a bit of a sadist? Yes.

A low moan escaped his lips as he felt his mouth filled with her cum, his free hand gripping hers tightly. 

"H-hee."

He lifted his stare, landing on her adorable one, beseeching him to hug her. 

"You look so cute when you’re all tired like this, Y/N," he smirked, a faint peck landing on her cheek. His hand intertwined with her, the other playing with her hair. 

Sometimes, the amount of love he harvested for her managed to surprise him, finding himself falling apart in her touch and gaze. 

"H-hee," she whispered, closing her eyes. She tried to fight her exhaustion, but it was starting to get to her.

He saw how drowsy she looked, so he pulled her tighter to his body. 

"Go to sleep. I'll be right here when you wake up," he kissed her, his voice very relaxed and comforting.

"You promise?" she murmured, half asleep on his chest. 

"I promise," he assured, kissing her forehead and tucking her against him, pressing her body against his.

His hands stayed on her side, keeping her safely in his warm embrace.

"Until the day I die."

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Taglist: @end-hyphen, @hee-pster, @jakeswifeyy, @gegeetime, @heerated, @jayked, @forjongseong, @enhastolemyheart

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐞��! ^^

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@maggstar

[dear-satan]

can you do hobiexfemreader smut? maybe something like, hobie taking the reader in the balcony? a bit of exhibitionism ˃ᴗ˂

thank yewwww if you decide to write about this (θ‿θ)

hello Anon!! ❤️ thank you for your proposal! this idea suits perfectly with Hobie and I'm all for it. I hope you are enjoy 🥰

hard day

Hobie Brown x fem!Reader summary: Hobie needs to relieve his tension after a "hard day" warning: sexual content, cock warming

You were sitting on the balcony when Hobie entered your flat and sneaked unnoticed behind the armchair where you were sitting reading a book. Skinny arms encircled your figure and his lips pressed against the skin of your neck, sucking lightly on it. His body was warmed unlike yours, so a pleasant shiver ran down your spine stopping at your lower abdomen.

""Hard day?" you asked tilting your head slightly giving him better access. His murmur reached your ear at which you smiled slightly, closing your eyelids.

"Miguel's encounters are driving me crazy," he finally spoke up moving his kisses to your jaw. His hands had long since found the entrance under your t-shirt, caressing the areas under your boobs. Despite his overwhelming desire to touch them, he wanted to wait for the right moment…. He didn't like to rush things. "I thought I was going to die of boredom."

"Oh no!" you turned your head immediately crossing your gaze with his brown irises. The book you had been holding a while back was on a small table next to the armchair, so you caught his handsome face in your hands without restraint. "How did my brave Spider-Man cope with this terrible and difficult situation?" you asked with feigned seriousness, as if this encounter really was something unbearable.

"I was thinking of you," he lifted you from your seat. As you stood in front of him he began to mirror your outfit, consisting of shorts and a loose T-shirt. Your nipples stood out through the material at which he bit his lip piercing. The sight of them mesmerised him and caused the cock in his trousers to harden even more.

"About me?" you threw your arms around his shoulders in turn Hobie's hands fell to your hips, squeezing them slightly. "About what specifically?"

"Well, you know," a smile dawned on his face. He began to slowly guide your person towards the balcony railing until the railing slammed into your back. "I was reminiscing about our first meetings." His pelvis pressed against your body and the bulge in his trousers gracefully rubbed against your hip bone.

"The ones where you fucked me in the park? Or on your neighbour's balcony?"

"Both" his nose rubbed against yours before finally bringing your lips together in a passionate kiss. Your lips, as always, were sweet and soft. He loved the taste of them no matter if you were at each other's house or in a place filled with people. With the rest, this applied not only to kisses. From the first time he saw you he wanted to taste every inch of your body…. Which, in fact, he had already done at the first, evening meeting in the park in a Spider-Man costume.

A thread of saliva appeared between the two of you as you finally pulled away from each other to take a breath. Hobie turned you in one swift motion so that you were facing him and your hands were placed on the railing. He used his web to attach them there for a longer period of time, to which you groaned as you arched your bottom towards him. "Good girl…" he whispered when your buttock rubbed against his still clothed penis. He crouched behind you tilting back the material of your shorts revealing that you had nothing underneath. His tongue ran over your folds. "You taste so good, doll…" his warm breath teased your wet pussy, as did his tongue.

"Hobs.. Please." You stifled a moan, clenching around nothing.

"Please what?" he placed a kiss next to your entrance. His cock almost ripped the opening of his trousers, but he preferred to wait. He loved hearing you beg for him to fill you.

"Please… Come inside me…"

Hobie laughed softly one last time licking your folds. He stood up placing his hands on your ass, pressing it against his penis. "Can you feel it? You're the only one who gets me to this state, doll" He unzipped your trousers, lowering them to his ankles along with his boxers. He did the same with your shorts. His penis trembled from the cool air and pre-cum dripped from the top of his dick. He caressed your wet entrance for a while wolfing down his cock even more, until finally he entered you in one smooth movement thrusting into you, at which a long moan broke from your lips. "Just like that," he tilted his head back. He began to move his hips slowly, gloating at your warmth. This was just what he needed. "Take all of me" his slow movements were driving you wild.

"H-Hobie…" you moaned quietly lowering your head. The web on your hands prevented you from tilting your body and grabbing his hair. All you could do was stand erect against him, letting him fuck you from behind without paying attention to your neighbours. "P-please.. More." you bit your lip pushing yourself out more wanting to feel every inch of him.

"Pardon?" he was obviously toying with you "I don't think I heard you." With a shove he widened your legs making it easier for him to access your clit.

"P-please… I want mo-" a moan interrupted your pleading as his penis aggressively rammed into you "Y-yes…. H-Hobie…" you moaned as he aggressively fucked you while stimulating your swollen bud.

Hobie closed his eyes. He hoped the whole estate could see or at least hear him fucking you on that damn balcony. This vision stimulated him even more. His movements became sloppier and shorter as he chased his own fulfilment. "L-love you d-doll. Such a g-good girl." he pounded into you one last time as he sighed loudly and his cum spilled inside you. The sensation released your own high, thus giving Hobie a greater shot of pleasure.

"You know," you breathed out, feeling Hobs rest his sweaty forehead against your shoulder blades, "If this is how every encounter in this spider world of yours is supposed to end…. Then I beg you to go there every day."

[harrysonlylover]

Karma Rules (Mechanic Harry Part 6)

Summary: A phone call from Niall and its aftermath changes your perspective. Can a fairytale be fixed?

Warnings: alcoholism, drunk harry, over drinking, unhealthy coping, miscommunication, angst, mentions of alcohol abuse, hangover.

Please do not read if these trigger you.

Wc: 8k

A/n: Please keep in mind that this is just fan-fiction and some bits about the hangover may not be 100% true, as every individual is different than the other and deals with it in an another way.

Rereading part 5 is good for refreshing your mind!

This is also the final part!

Part 5

When it came to receiving good and bad news, people generally preferred getting the bad news first so that the good ones would soothe them. You followed that preference as well, but you didn’t always have a choice.

Not when you moved away from home, not when your car broke down, not when you discovered the truth about your “job”.

And certainly not right now.

The phone was still pressed to your ear, Niall’s voice was coming out muffled and incoherent. Your heart was banging against your ribcage, and still, the blood barely reached your other organs. You couldn’t move, or put two and two together. Not even ask him what happened.

The room was suddenly dark despite the lit light bulbs in every corner, the clock necklace that you didn’t even get to thank Harry for was ticking around your neck. It was the only sound you could hear as if it was torturing you on purpose.

Tick tock.

A reminder that whatever happened to Harry was your fault. Maybe if you had stayed—

It wasn’t an ideal timing for your brain to taunt you and make you feel pathetic. Niall’s voice was calling for you, asking if you were listening but you were simply trying to pull yourself back to the present.

Your body fell against the sofa, and you dug your nails into the cushions. The clock was still piercing your ears because you could grab it right now and reverse it but you won’t go back in time to change whatever had happened.

What did he get himself into?

“Are you listening to me?” Niall’s panicked voice urged you to focus. You were obliged to ignore the nausea and the guilt your brain was throwing already. Because that’s how things went every time, you only needed a simple situation for your brain to torture you.

“Can you repeat what you said?” Your throat was as dry as the desert. You thought about standing up and getting a glass of water, but you’re not sure if your hands would be able to hold it.

“It’s Harry! He’s fucking drunk—way too drunk. He doesn’t drink Y/n, he hates alcohol.” His tone told you all you needed to know. It pained Niall to say it like he was on the verge of tears.

Was he talking about the same Harry that drank herbal teas and scolded your food choices? You were somewhat worried that he might have gotten into a car accident at a race, but he didn’t. So why does this feel worse?

“I—what?” It wasn’t the best you could say in a conversation like this, but it was better than the radio silence.

“Listen, he’s in a really bad state. He’s lucky that he’s a bit conscious.” He sighed, clearly worried about his friend.

It was nearly nine, not so late in the evening. For how long was he drinking to get to this state? You never saw him drink nor did he open the subject. Your legs moved before you processed what you were doing.

“I’m coming.” You spoke as you headed toward your bedroom.

“I didn’t want to stress you, and I know you’re wondering why I chose to call you but he’s been mumbling things about you.” You stopped in your tracks at his last sentence, your fingers placed at the light switch, too numb to move.

“What did he say?” You whispered in a shaky voice.

“I—don’t know, it was all weird and—“ His voice was cut off as his attention turned to Harry. He mentioned some things about drinking water and lying back. The last thing you expected was for Harry to speak.

“Did ya know that she smells like strawberries?” It took him longer to say the sentence than normal. It came out slurred with hiccups, and a small laugh.

“Shit—drink water H.” You could hear Niall pouring him a water cup.

“Sweeettt. Y/n is sweet.” Niall didn’t have to answer your previous question, you were witnessing it yourself.

It is said that a drunk mind speaks a sober heart, and that scared you more than it comforted you. Niall was trying to soothe Harry, and get him to have that cup of water but to no avail.

“I’m not nice. She deserves nice.” His words weren’t as coherent but you caught some stuff through the speaker as you put on a random jumper and sweatpants.

“I’m coming Niall.”

“You don’t have to—I’m here.” He moved away from Harry whose voice got distant but was still mumbling stuff.

“No, I’ll be there shortly.” You hung up before he could object.

It would take you around 15 minutes on your bike, normally you avoided going out when it was dark but you didn’t have any rational thoughts swimming in your head.

Your mind was consumed by him the entire road. Why would he do that? Just because you left? But again—you were no one to him. Just an employee. So why did he mention you and blurt out weird stuff?

He might have kissed you and let down his guard a couple of times but that didn’t mean anything, right?

It’s surely not a big deal, everyone probably knew that your hair smelled like strawberries, that you’re sweet, and deserved someone nice. Or did they not?

You had nothing in mind on what to expect, you didn’t even know what you were planning to do—but you weren’t going to sit around at home while he was in this state.

All the overthinking kept you busy until you reached his house. The little yellow home that reminded you of warmth, is now radiating coldness. You dreaded going inside, fearing what would be awaiting you.

Was it your fault? Did that mean that you mattered to him?

You got off your bike, grabbed your bag, and headed slowly towards the front door. Niall must have left the door slightly open for you, but before entering—something jumped at your legs.

You looked down to see an antsy Snowbun circling around your feet.

“What are you doing out here?” Per your knowledge, he should be asleep in his small bed by now. You picked him up and cradled him in your hands.

“Are you running away from Harry or Niall?” The latter was his sworn enemy. Snowy replied by twitching his ears, earning a smile from you.

“Let’s get inside, shall we?” You scratched the top of his head before turning the doorknob and entering.

The once vibrant house filled with music sounding from the record player, and the smell of home-cooked meals was now dull and cold. It could be the open windows allowing the night breeze to sneak in, or the absence of Harry’s energy.

Everything was a mess.

The living room was untidy, and there were broken shards of glass around the floor with the smell of whiskey lingering in the air.

It wasn’t necessarily dirty, but it somewhat reflected Harry’s state, as his house could mimic his inner feelings. Snow Bun jumped out of your hand and headed towards his bed in the corner.

For a hot minute, you thought that Niall left considering how empty the house felt, until you heard his voice coming from Harry’s room.

“Hey—just lay here.” Niall seemed like he was trying to convince Harry to rest. You sneaked a glance inside the room, only to find Harry attempting to get up and walk—towards you.

“Not dreaming.” He let out a small laugh upon seeing you.

Niall sent you a soft smile before directing his attention back to Harry.

You have never seen him in such a state. His face looked like he had aged a hundred years, his eyes were tired and hollow, and he was barely conscious.

You stood motionless, trying to process his situation, what he had done and most importantly why.

You wanted to step forward and assist Niall who was lifting him to the bed, but your body was stuck in its place. You have seen your fair share of situations and were always unaffected, but Harry had an unusual effect on you, and maybe—you did too.

“Shortcake.” He hiccuped again, accepting the cup of water this time. He took two sips only and rested his head against the headboard.

You were aware of his direct stares, but you didn’t speak or move. You bit your nails as Niall tucked him under the duvet. He was slowly dozing off by the minute, with less mumbling that you didn’t quite catch.

The room went silent except for the sound of crickets coming from the window. You stole a glance at Harry who sounded so relaxed while sleeping despite his disturbed state.

You let out a sigh of relief once you were sure that he slept, at least he would get some rest.

“How much did he drink?” You whispered to Niall with a scratchy voice.

“The whole fucking bottle.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and motioned for you to leave the room.

You closed the bedroom door and followed him into the living room. He began picking up the shards of glass, so you kneeled to help him.

“How did you know that he was drunk?” Niall was visibly upset with what went down, he was his close friend after all.

“I didn’t… I just happened to pass by. I haven’t heard from him in a while.” He shook his head in disbelief, so you assumed that whatever this was, it wasn’t common.

You picked up the remaining pieces and disposed of them in a bag. You arranged the rest of the living room silently with Niall, but the silence was just too loud.

“Niall?” He turned his head to you.

“Yeah?”

“Most people get drunk—like it’s not right but it happens. Why did you freak out?” Your curiosity was getting the best out of you. You weren’t dismissing Harry’s state—it just didn’t make sense.

Niall dropped the broom to the ground and took a seat on the couch.

“Harry has had a rough past y’know? It wasn’t ideal.” You sat down as well, giving him your attention.

“He had an abusive alcoholic father. It’s not my place to say much, but it left an impact on him.” He spoke as if Harry was his biological brother. It was clear that he cared for him deeply.

You swallowed down your throat upon Niall’s confession. He hated alcohol. It must have reminded him of darker days. He barely opened up about his childhood to you, but many things clicked for you.

“I’m sorry that I troubled you. I was just shocked because he never got drunk, let alone drank in the first place.” He clasped his hands together and spoke with sorrow.

“He was in the worst state ever. I couldn’t understand why he kept talking about you.” He swiped his hand through his hair and gulped down a cup of water.

“What did he say?” Your voice was timid and small like you were dreading to know the truth. It may deny or confirm something.

“Stuff about you being an angel, that he messed up?” He shook his head, trying to remember some details.

“Also that you were too delicate or something.” He scrunched his face at his lack of memory, unaware of your expression.

Is that what Harry thought of you? It was so overwhelming to find out all of this within a short time frame when his actions did not reflect what Niall was saying.

You didn’t doubt that Harry was a good man, not at all. But to hear these words so casually, as if they weren’t the sweetest things you have been told—

“Sorry—I didn’t know he had feelings for you.” Niall broke the silence.

“Feelings?” You questioned, attempting to control the tears that were threatening to fall.

“I mean—the way he spoke about you…it was emotional. I called you because I thought he’d need you.” He scratched the top of his head, rethinking what he had done.

“It might have been something destructive because he never drank—“ He didn’t complete his sentence, and stared at the wall instead.

He must have caught on to your cluelessness and took a step back. You were picking at your nails with your head lowered down. Everything hit you like a rollercoaster and you needed space.

“You don’t have to stay Niall. I can manage.” You assured him.

“I can stay, I don’t mind.”

“You’ve done a lot already. You’re a good friend.” You tipped him a smile and he understood the cue.

“If you need anything, just call me.” He stood up and walked towards the door, before giving you one last glance and leaving.

Conveniently, Snow Bun ran in your direction as soon as Niall was out of the door. The little bunny jumped on your lap and got himself all cozy.

You instinctively patted his head and cradled him. A few tears fell down your cheeks against your will. You pushed back everything you were thinking of and walked to the refrigerator.

“Are you hungry? Harry probably couldn’t feed you.” Just the thought itself made you incredibly sad for no reason. Perhaps, it’s the fact that underneath it all, Harry was just a guy who loved his privacy and spent time with his bunny.

The more you recalled nice gestures that he did, the more tears fell. You weren’t sobbing, but everything was hitting you all at once. Whatever you processed this evening was hard to consume, even in small doses.

Snow Bun immediately began nibbling at the strawberry you offered him. You couldn’t help but recall when Harry fed him in front of you, it was a happier night.

You’re glad that he feels safe to take food from you. Was he able to sense Harry’s mood?

You offered him another strawberry which he ate comfortably like a baby. You placed two more for him in his bowl and cleaned up around the house to pass the time.

There wasn’t much to do, a few dirty pans, messy pillows and blankets all over the place, and a bit of Snowy’s dry food that fell out of his plate.

You opened more windows and lit a candle to allow the whiskey smell to fade. Thankfully, the broken glass was the first thing you and Niall cleaned up—but you were still skeptical about it.

You picked up the broom that Niall dropped earlier and cleaned under the couch to make sure that there was no glass left.

You felt a sharp pain in your chest upon wondering how it shattered. Did he lose his balance and drop it? Or did he do it out of frustration?

Your train of thought was interrupted when the broom collided with something. You could feel that it wasn’t glass, so you pulled it in your direction and reached your hand under the couch to grasp it.

It was a notebook.

It was already open, and your eyes landed on what was written. You flinched, feeling disrespectful for taking a glance despite not helping it. You wouldn’t want someone to look through your journal—but your eyes were glued to the words.

A few lines were scribbled at the top of the page including your name with Harry’s handwriting that you memorized so well. Yet, these lines were blurred out due to the scribbling—but you could make out the word ‘apricity’.

Underneath them were the clear unscratched lines that made you let out a silent gasp.

Starry haze, crystal ball

Somehow, you’ve become some paranoia

Just like a nepenthe

But your gift is wasted on me

You allowed your fingers to touch the paper, to make sure that this was real and that you weren’t hallucinating.

You quickly moved on to the lines under them and your knees nearly buckled.

I was thinking about who you are

Your delicate point of view, I

Was thinking about you

The last line ended on a whim and was more of a question than a sentence.

Just you?

You closed the notebook and threw it on the couch like it was poison. You were breathing heavily and your legs carried you straight to the refrigerator for the cup of water you’ve needed since Niall called.

You gulped down two cups frantically as if it would help you process or erase what you read.

Finding out that Harry most likely drank because of you, and might have had feelings for you was enough. But to see that he wrote lyrics about you?

Maybe it was scary because it was a concrete confirmation. It shut down the overthinking and the endless questions just with a glance at a piece of paper.

The suffocation was threatening to close up your chest, not caring about the soft night breeze and the lit candle that smelled like Harry.

It seemed as if his secrets were unfolding with any action that you took. There’s only so much you could handle in one night, so you laid down on the couch. You will sleep here, you won’t leave him alone.

You covered yourself with a blanket and were soon joined by Snow Bun who made himself comfortable next to you.

You contemplated grabbing a book from your bag but even that doesn’t seem to work anymore.

You wondered what could soothe a person if not books.

Still, there wasn’t much you could do. It was close to eleven and you would soon fall asleep—but until then your mind would get the chance to torment you.

What will you do when he wakes up? Will you have the courage to ask him about everything? Does he even want you around?

These questions and many more went through your head as you shifted on the couch. Though, that seemed to annoy Snowy who was trying to sleep, unaware of all the troubles.

Being a bunny is quite easy. ——————————————————

Harry struggled to open his eyes. His brain didn’t aid him and was not functioning properly, the same way car engines fail to roar. A tiny grunt left his lips, he was attempting to regain his consciousness, despite being overwhelmed.

A sharp pain stemmed from his head, the one people get from being beaten with a bat. He felt out of place as if he switched bodies with a completely different person who neglected themselves.

His bones and muscles didn’t ache—but the fatigue was embedded in all of his atoms.

Another grunt was elicited, followed by a hiss. The morning sun sneaked through the window, casting its light on his tired figure. It burned his eyes and worsened the pounding headache he felt.

His mouth was dry like a man who hadn’t taken a sip in days, he could feel it with every grunt as he swallowed down his throat in an attempt to hydrate his system.

“What the—“ He mumbled, forcing his eyes to open again as he collected the energy to raise his hand and shield his face from the sun.

The neurons in his brain worked hard to transmit signals. He needed just one memory to recall—a reason even to understand what led him to this state.

He buried his face in the pillow, relieving himself from the sting of the morning light. He groaned as the headache became unbearable.

What did he do last night?

The few cells that got to work urged him to connect things and conclude a reason—the headache, fatigue, and memory loss all pointed towards the unthinkable.

But no, he wouldn’t. Right?

He possessed great self-control, confided his sister in when he felt suffocated, and would never allow himself to resort to a destructive outlet.

No matter how torn he felt, how maimed and beaten his heart was—he prided himself in needing no one and repressing his sadness.

Right?

His muscles worked together to lift his body slowly. He supported himself on the mattress with his hands and observed his surroundings with squinted eyes.

Everything seemed normal, nothing was out of place. The bedroom was tidy and neat, the way he always maintained it.

Yet, his attire had him confused. He never went to sleep with his work clothes, he either slept shirtless or with a clean tank top.

He couldn’t help but bring his hand to his temple. The pain was unbearable, flashing like thunder and echoing in his skull.

Attempting to piece some bits of information together was a tough task, let alone when he couldn’t quite remember whatever went down the previous day.

His senses gave him a push until his brain connected some dots and realized what his mouth felt like besides dryness.

It was Whiskey.

“No—“ It would be a reasonable justification. His body warned him when he first opened his eyes, but he was in denial.

Fatigue, muscle aches, headache, thirst, and in his case— feeling like absolute shit.

“What did I do?” He groaned, in response to his pain and stupidness.

He’s had his fair share of atrocious headaches and fatigue, yet he was never subjected to immense emotional maim that led him to this state. Not even in his younger years. He vowed to never touch a bottle in his life. He had a few beers as a teenager, but that was the extent.

He never wished to become a spitting image of his sperm donor or inflict harm upon others using alcohol.

Something that he must have done.

Recalling the cause of his ache was effortless; not because of its intensity or his functioning memory. But because he simply could never push someone like you out of his mind, even when he was in a foggy state.

“Y/n.” He whispered under his breath.

He was in shambles upon reading your letter. He needed an outlet to empty his pain. A pain that he inflicted upon himself and you.

It was an internal battle; treating you like shit to push you away, when all he wanted was to hold you and kiss your soft lips.

How could he even dare to have you? The most delicate being he ever met. You were an angel that fell on earth accidentally. Maybe god was searching for you, but Harry wanted you selfishly to himself.

He didn’t deserve you, well no one did actually—but a boy could dream.

Your soft aura and charming personality would never fit in a million years with his dark heart and destructive thoughts. You were so delicate that he feared breaking you, and if that ever happened, he’d never forgive himself.

He was a weak man when it came to you. Your contagious smile, books, warm personality, and kind manners. Love was never on his agenda, he didn’t even have any vision for his future. Nothing but his career maybe, but of course, you’d tip his scales over.

You became his dream, someone that he wished he could have. He didn’t realize that his heart was betraying him, leading the tide against his rational thoughts.

In some way, he was a prisoner of your presence. You simply had to walk inside the room he was in, and all his problems would evaporate.

Even when he first met you, despite his cold tone and expression, he was deeply enamored by you. He never wanted to find out information about a person this bad, he needed to know who you were.

He didn’t consider himself a dedicated reader, sometimes a book here and there but—a philosophy he once read stuck with him.

The philosophy of Descartes, his dualism, and the notion of mind and body being distinct, yet intimately related. It was logical to him to a certain extent but as of late, Harry created his philosophy.

The mind and body were foes; often joining together to set up a scheme. This scheme was to torture Harry. His body belonged near you, but his heart kept him up at night. They were allies for once, simply to dismantle his sanity and imprint invisible bruises on his body.

And so they managed to trap him, render him a fool in front of you, and destroy any small chance he might have had.

He gathered all the energy left in his fatigued body and got up from his warm bed. The sun’s rays burned his eyes yet embraced his skin lovingly.

He wondered why Snow Bun wasn’t next to him, it was against his habit but maybe he was just roaming around the planted strawberries again.

The first thing up was brushing his teeth, getting rid of the awful smell was essential. He hoped he wouldn’t have to do this again.

The sight of his tired face in the mirror had him double checking. When did it get so unbearable?

For most people, this was barely an issue—but for Harry, it tipped his life upside down.

He doesn’t go well with emotions, communication or even figuring out what the other person wants.

“Shit.” He splashed cold water on his face before grabbing a clean cloth and drying it.

He would need a while to feel better again, to accept what had happened, and avoid leading himself to that state.

He had a quick cold shower to give himself the illusion of being clean, even when his system wasn’t. The fresh set of clothes and cologne elevated his mood, and the sting of the water helped with his headache.

He needed a nutritious meal despite the nausea bubbling in his stomach. Besides, where the hell was Snowy?

Harry reached for the doorknob as wet droplets from his hair fell on the ground. He barely advanced a few footsteps before stopping in his tracks.

He had an inkling that his feelings toward you, and the letter you left influenced his actions last night. But, seeing you asleep on his sofa with his bunny cuddled to your chest was not on his list.

He stood in the doorway with barely a few breaths coming in and out of his nose. As if a time traveler somehow arrived at this moment and froze his body.

Could he still be dreaming?

He wasn’t worthy of your presence, not even in his dreams.

He didn’t even deserve the wasted sun rays that hugged him earlier. They should’ve poured their focus on you, just like they were doing this instant. Your skin was covered with gold, somehow glistening more than any other human being. This is how an angel sleeps, he thought.

He was so jealous of the sun, envious even. It got to kiss every inch of your skin and keep you warm, unlike him.

The golden color stretched to your perfect hair, shut eyelids, and soft raspberry mouth. Your chest rose slowly, even your breathing was delicate.

He didn’t blame Snow Bun for liking you one bit, even a bunny knew how pure you were.

He didn’t mean to stare like a creep, but funnily enough, his pet blew his cover. Snowy awoke from his peaceful sleep and disrupted you in the process.

You peeled your eyes open and looked down at the moving bunny who had enough sleep. It seemed like you did too as your body felt satisfied with the hours you rested during.

The room was bathed in sunlight and warmth, and surprisingly to your right—was Harry standing motionless.

“Harry! You’re up.” Your legs moved before your brain processed anything. You were up on your feet in no time, facing a confused yet tired Harry.

“H—hi.” He swallowed down his throat.

“How are you feeling?” Your hair was all over the place and you couldn’t tell what your face looked like, but you had to check up on him.

The night went by quickly, and the next thing you knew, he was standing next to you, hopefully sober.

“Pretty shit.” He pressed his lips together, ignoring Snowy’s thumbing on the floor.

For an unknown reason, his response elicited a tiny giggle out of your lips. One that eased his headache.

“I—“

“Do you remember anything from last night?” You beat him, feeling way too curious.

You had a plethora of things to say and discuss, stuff you should’ve said long ago.

“Just a bit. Not the entire picture.” He bit on his tongue, feeling the blood drain from his body.

Standing in front of you, seeing you, and hearing a question that was brought up yesterday triggered a sudden flashback.

How Niall dragged him to bed as you stared at him with fear and worry.

So he fucked up again.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted out before you managed a response.

“What for? You barely remember what happened.” You shrugged.

“Everything.” He averted his gaze downward in shame.

It was out of a movie scene, two individuals facing each other in a sunlit room, way too stuck in their heads to see right what’s in front of them.

This moment was ageless. Your torn expression and his sorrowful face. Your sympathy and his regret. A powerful duo indeed.

Only in instants like these was silence positively uncomfortable. The silent eye contact back and forth, uncaring for the ticks of the clock, or what lies behind the eyes. The invitation to open your hearts broadly for one another, without shame or hesitation. Just two young beings diving into each other’s souls, passing control over to their bodies and hearts; even if they betrayed them.

He offered you an immense amount of vulnerability that he’s never given to anyone, simply by eye contact.

As if your souls had a secret language that they used.

“I—“

“Well—“

You spoke at the same time before stopping in shock.

“You speak first.”

“No. You talked first.”

He gestured for you to speak, and you swore you have never seen him this polite and held back.

“Hmm. I know this isn’t an ideal timing and that it’s quite rough for you right now. But how about breakfast and a mature conversation?” You asked with your bottom lip hidden between your teeth.

“I’d love that.” He nodded with a weak smile. The only one you managed to get from him for what felt like ages.

You refreshed in the bathroom while Harry prepared breakfast. It was similar to when he cooked you lunch. The same aroma drifted in the air with the sound of the oil sizzling and the same warmth that radiated from the house.

But this time, it was more awkward knowing that a conversation awaits. What were you supposed to say, and should you take the initiative of starting small talk?

You washed your face with water for the second time, dreading the return to the kitchen. You offered to cook since you knew he wasn’t feeling well, but he insisted saying ‘It’s the least he could do’.

Snowy managed to follow you to the bathroom (after he had his breakfast), and you smiled at his excited thumping.

“Let’s go.” You cradled him and returned to where Harry was using his chef skills.

He looked up the moment you walked in, offering you a gentle smile. Your heart ached at his gesture for no reason.

“Are you feeling okay now?” You cleared your throat as you sat on a stool near the counter.

“Somewhat…My headache is a bit better.” He scratched his head, avoiding eye contact.

You nodded, moving your attention to Snowy who was clueless and happy in your lap.

“I remembered some stuff.” He mumbled rather quickly as he flipped chocolate chip pancakes.

“Oh?” It was a good sign because you didn’t know how to tell him that he randomly mumbled stuff about you.

“Um, yeah…” He remained silent for a few seconds and checked in on the delicious scrambled eggs he was preparing.

“I’m sorry you had to see that last night.” His words reeked of shame and guilt. There was a sense of vulnerability in what went down, and for a man like him, it would be a hard pill to swallow. After all, someone else had seen his weakness.

“Harry, I—“

“No, just let me say a few things.” You hadn’t expected him to begin talking now. But, it seemed that you were too busy admiring his tired face to notice the plate he slid in front of you.

“Eat please.” He gestured to your plate with concern when he was the one who should be fuelling his body.

“You need it more.” You argued, with signs of worry flashing over your face.

Sweet sweet shortcake, Harry thought. Always putting others before you.

The look of determination on your face was evident. Besides, could he ever say no to you?

“Look, I’m eating.” He grabbed a pancake from his dish and took a bite.

You swallowed thickly and joined him in taking small bites of food. He felt more full just by watching you eat contently. He tried to ignore the whirling thoughts in his brain, whether or not you had dinner last night.

“I’m sorry again.” Harry gathered his courage and looked into your kind eyes.

“It wasn’t your responsibility to help me, nor Niall’s.” An undertone of pain was hidden in his voice.

“And it was all very immature of me.” You could tell that it was hard for him to maintain eye contact, you’d struggle too if you were in his place. So, you averted your gaze away to relieve him.

You didn’t interrupt him, it was clear that he had many things to say.

“I ruined your evening, made you worried, and had you sleep on an uncomfortable sofa.” He swallowed down his throat, with his fingers digging crescent marks on his palm.

“I’ve put you through so much just because I do not know how to communicate.” He shook his head in disappointment.

“We’re humans, we kind of designed to miscommunicate.” You shrugged.

“Not to this extent shortcake.” His eyes held the key to everything. You used to think of him as an enigma, or impossible puzzle. But now, he was like a flowing river that held all of his thoughts that had been pressing to come out.

“I—It’s not an excuse but I’m not a fan of alcohol and I’ve never been drunk.” He swiped his hand through his hair, finally caving into his anxiety and averting his gaze.

Going with the flow and confessing that you knew was not an option. You wanted him to open his heart out instead of making him feel like he was already exposed.

“And my father was an alcoholic—“ He took a deep breath and remained silent for a few moments.

“Harry, you don’t have to push yourself to talk.” You whispered despite being alone in the room.

The signs of tiredness on his face were somehow getting worse, and a single tear slid down his cheek. Your hand immediately reached out to wipe it, making him stare lovingly.

He didn’t reply verbally. Instead, he softly grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles with his eyes shut as if he were pouring something into the kiss.

“Sweet shortcake.” He gave you a hint of a smile as he gazed into your eyes.

“A fly wouldn’t dare to hurt you, yet I did.”

“Stop blaming yourself.” You grabbed a strawberry from his plate and brought it to his mouth. He accepted it contently and went back to silence.

The staring was not unpleasant like you thought it’d be. It was a continuation of standing in front of each other in the living room. Just two souls speaking in a different language.

He caught you off guard by breaking the silence with a shocked yet joyful expression.

His hand reached out to your neck where the necklace was dangling beautifully. He ran his fingers over it, before turning it backward and smiling at the engraving.

“You wore it.”

“Of course, might be my favorite necklace so far.” His smile was so broad that he seemed as if he had forgotten all about life’s worries.

“It suits you.” He couldn’t take his eyes off it.

“Because it’s special. Uncle George gave it to me and told me all about it after I left your garage.” You unintentionally broke the joyful bubble by reminding Harry of the awful events that led to this moment.

His expression slowly fell until his hand retracted away from the necklace.

“Harry—about that letter, it was immature of me. I should have faced you—“

“It’s completely your right. I’ve been so fucking shitty. I didn’t even deserve an explanation.”

“Don’t say that—“

“I’m serious. You wasted your kindness on me.” His hands were under the counter, but you had an inkling that they were shaking.

“I have a lot to explain and—“ He continued to ramble vigorously.

“H, breathe.” You stepped off the stool and went to his side.

He was rushing to tell you everything, not giving his body or mind a chance to process because he needed to explain himself. He’d go on his knees if he had to. His anxious rants and fast train of thought were nothing but an outcome of fear.

Fear of losing you.

A small part of him still believed that no matter what he said or did, you would still leave. Even if he ripped his heart out and gave it to you as it leaked black blood on the kitchen floor.

So he fired with everything that made him vulnerable, just to keep you, or at least the thought of you if you allowed.

And you knew that, god you knew. It had you fighting back tears as you faced him.

“You’re still very tired. And we don’t have to talk about every single detail right this instant. You need to rest, we both do.” Your hand caressed his cheek softly, and his face unconsciously leaned in.

“We need time to think, feel, and process what happened. I’m not going anywhere, Harry. I just won’t work for you anymore.” You weren’t the best confronter, but judging by the look in his eyes, you weren’t doing so bad.

“And—when the time is right, we’ll talk about many things.” It was your turn to tear up now, and of course, he mimicked what you did earlier by wiping your tears away.

“Can I say one last thing?”

“Yes.”

“You have bewitched me, body and soul.” He took pride in saying it, his eyes raking all over your face to save your reaction in his memory.

The slow appearance of your dimples, the soft furrow of your eyebrows, the realization dawning on your face followed by the most adorable giggle he has ever heard.

“Did you just quote Mr.Darcy!” You covered your mouth with your hand.

“He’s my number one inspiration.” His dimples made an appearance and god you’ve missed them. They brought joy to his worn-out yet beautiful face.

There was a certain undertone to his statement that had you holding back another giddy smile. One of them indicated quite the resemblance between him and Mr.Darcy. How he was cold towards Lizzie at first when he was simply smitten all along.

‘He’s my number one inspiration’

Was your story similar to theirs? Was he your Mr.Darcy? Bitter yet soft when faced with the possibility of losing you?

Another suggestion that knocked the breath out of your lungs was the sentence that would follow.

‘You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, love you.’

He didn’t utter it, but the idea of him even quoting your favorite book ever sparked goosebumps all over your skin.

“How did you even know what he said?” His eyes were glued to your smiling face, and if he ever lost his memory, he begged any existing divine being to only keep this sight of you.

“I read it.” He confessed proudly as if he were an Emperor flaunting his possessions.

The bluebirds have arrived and made themselves comfortable near the window. They would soon begin their orchestra as scheduled.

“You read Pride & Prejudice?!” You gasped unintentionally, causing a faint blush to creep up his cheeks.

He hummed with a grin threatening to break on his face and chewed on some eggs as you admired him.

You ached to ask him why he read this specific book. A part of you knew, but the other part craved to hear it.

Harry read your favorite book.

“Actually… speaking of reading.” You swallowed down your throat and readied yourself for your confession.

He turned his attention to you, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

“You read a new book?”

“No—I’m in a reading slump honestly. My first one.” Your face fell, something that he immediately noticed.

“Oh—“

“It’s fine.” You shrugged, dismissing the issue. It did pain you but that wasn’t your current focus.

“What I wanted to say is that—I was cleaning some broken glass yesterday…” His jaw clenched at the mention of the glass. He didn’t think about the mess he caused, and bringing it up brought the guilt back.

“And I found something.” You were still trying to articulate proper words, but his facial expression saddened you.

Harry couldn’t decide if his brain wanted to pour its attention on blaming him for the broken glass or think about the ‘thing’ that you found.

“Yeah?”

“I did not mean to look—actually that’s a pathetic excuse.” You covered your face with your hands and let out a small groan.

“My eyes landed on some written stuff and I couldn’t stop reading your notebook.” You blurted it out as fast as possible, with an antsy body language.

“Shortcake—“

“I’m really sorry…that was rude of me, but I—“

“Calm down.” It was ironic how he managed to soothe you with two simple words.

“It’s all good, m’kay? Besides, the poem is about you shortcake.” Another proud confession left his lips as if what he said wasn’t so destructively beautiful.

You were always the reader, and never the writer. But Harry canceled both possibilities and made you the muse.

“I meant every word, and I always will.” He whispered as if the bluebirds would hear him and steal his sacred poem.

You could feel your eyes swelling with tears, your left knee was shaking and you couldn’t maintain eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry this is a lot to take in.” You covered your face from embarrassment.

“No pressure, shortcake.” He assured you with a thousand knives going through his heart.

Snow Bun broke the tension by thumping repeatedly until Harry kneeled, and picked him up.

“Someone wants attention…” Harry chuckled before Snowy jumped out of his lap, straight to his plate on the counter, and helped himself to strawberries.

“…or my strawberries.” He shook his head in disappointment for falling into Snowy’s trap.

Your laughter echoed in the room, overshadowing the birds’ songs. A laughter that healed Harry, and reflected his happiness.

“Do you want more food? Are you full?” He gestured to your empty plate.

“Thank you H, I’m all good. I think I’ll head home now.” You got off the stool and grabbed your bag from the sofa.

“Yeah—Okay. Let me dress up quickly to drive you.” He was heading towards his bedroom before you stopped him.

“No, it’s okay. I have my bike.”

“I insist, it’s the least I could do—“

“H, stop saying that. I promise I’ll be fine on my own.” He studied your facial expression to try and figure out if you genuinely do not need the ride.

“Besides, I don’t want you driving immediately after yesterday night, you should rest and I need some fresh air.” You tipped him an honest smile that had his heart pumping.

“Sure, whatever you like.” His hands were in his pockets as he stood facing you.

‘I don’t want you driving immediately after yesterday night’ had him frozen in his place.

It toyed with his heart and messed with his blood pressure. You said it so casually as if it didn’t indicate that someone cared about him—and not just anyone, it was you.

His shortcake, his delicate girl.

You walked towards the front door as Harry watched with intent eyes. After a few steps, you stopped and turned around in his direction.

He was taken aback by your action and straightened his posture.

“I’m really glad that you’re safe.” You blurted out, as you looked into his emerald eyes. He didn’t get the chance to form a response before you engulfed his body in a tight hug.

His hands immediately wrapped around your body, savoring what you offered. You warmed him up in a few moments more than the sun that woke him up.

A whiff of your strawberry shampoo was stuck in his nose and that was all he needed to feel better.

Somehow, his hands were perfectly molded for your waist, and your height was perfect for him to lower his head and lay it against yours.

Despite his wishes and dreams, you pulled away from the hug with a soft smile painted across your face.

“Bye, H.”

“Bye, shortcake.”

It was an easy departure, not filled with heavy weight on your chest or guilt. The complete opposite of your arrival last night.

You weren’t trying to avoid Harry when you said that it would need time, but you knew that some space would do good for both parties. Pondering and reflecting was a necessity, especially for Harry.

The yearning to hear Harry’s explanations remained nestled deep inside you. Your patience would undergo a practice with a small hint of knowing what was coming.

For once in your life, you didn’t jump to conclusions stemming from your anxiety. What you felt, heard, and saw was enough.

You didn’t want Harry to rush everything because you could feel how the sentence was on the tip of his tongue, along with quoting Mr.Darcy.

He had feelings for you, and it was mutual.

You allowed yourself to feel the giddiness and rush while simultaneously acknowledging past events.

What led you to write the letter, Harry’s coldness and ignorance but also his sudden moments of warmth and kindness.

Denial wasn’t an option for you. You felt attracted to him since day one, and rightfully so. As for his feelings, you’re yet to delve deep into that topic.

Time does not heal, but it’s more of a breather. Last night was emotionally charged, but it somehow changed your life upside down.

He didn’t specifically confess his feelings, and nor did you. But you kept going back to those moments of silence when your souls had a quiet chat against your knowledge. Perhaps they confessed then because you really know.

If you were to think deeply about it, Harry did the one thing he vowed to never do just because he thought that he lost you for good.

It pained you to even consider it, but that indicated how much you meant to him.

Drinking to punish himself, his poem, his apologetic sweet face, his urge to spit out every single excuse his heart held, and his body that held you as if he was shielding you from the world.

He was the man you read about in your books, with all of his good and bad traits. In fact, he was better than them because he was real with a beating heart that you listened to when you hugged him.

The past would not be forgotten, it would be vaguely memorized to learn from your mistakes as human beings who were designed and destined to commit mistakes.

The next best thing after sunshine, books, strawberries, bunnies, and poems was second chances and fresh beginnings.

Even with the knowledge that many mature conversations await you, there was something comforting about this morning that carried a whiff of warmth in the air.

Harry liked you, and you liked Harry.

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[wholoveseggs]

Warmth - Part Three

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

This is just a smutty little thing about being in an arraigned marriage to a certain original vampire.

If you rather read this on Ao3- Link is here

{Part One} {Part Two}

Back in the vibrant streets of New Orleans, relishing in your newfound freedom. Life takes an unexpected turn as the shadows of your past life loom large, pulling you back into the life you just escaped. Yet, amidst the haunting echoes, you find strength in a partner who is ready to go to any lengths for you.

8k words (whoops) - Warnings: Smut, drama & Elijah being a wife guy.

Part Three

The blissful week of your honeymoon unfolded like a dream, each moment seemingly plucked from a fairy tale. The idyllic cottage, delicious food, and fantastic sex painted a picture of a life you never thought possible.

Now, back in New Orleans, a newfound sense of liberation coursed through you. This freedom allowed you to make choices without restraint, doing whatever pleased you without scrutiny.

You spent the day at the record shop, browsing for a particular album that was deeply sentimental to you. When you found it, you almost squealed with glee, leaving the shop with a huge grin on your face.

You decided to walk back to the compound, enjoying the sun on your bare skin. During your time with the human faction, modest dressing was mandatory, even in sweltering weather. Yet, when Rebekah presented the daring silk backless dress for your wedding, you dared to dream of a possible future with true freedom. Now, you were living it.

However, your happiness took a sudden hit when you crossed paths with some faction wives on the street. Their envious and disdainful looks made you feel self-conscious in your short leather skirt and knee-high boots.

"I thought you would be dead by now," one of them remarked with a sneer, scanning your outfit with disapproval.

"Is your husband just keeping you around as a snack?" another quipped, her words laced with sharp mockery.

"Actually, I just got back from my honeymoon," you replied, trying to politely leave the conversation.

Laughter erupted from the group as they exchanged incredulous looks. "Vampires don't procreate, darling. What's the point of all that?" one of them scoffed.

Your patience wore thin, and with a tight smile, you excused yourself. "Well, I have better things to do than…this. Enjoy your day."

As you walked away, their judgment lingered in the air, casting a shadow over your earlier joy. You knew they were victims just as much as you had been; they coped with their circumstances by making others feel as bad as them. With your head held high, you headed back to the compound, trying not to let them dampen your mood.

Klaus stormed up to you in a huff, his accusing gaze piercing through you as you entered through the main gate. "Where were you, and what did you do?" he demanded, suspicion heavy in his voice.

"Uhh, I went to the record store and bought a record?" You replied, a confused look on your face.

"There was an attack on a group of vampires, orchestrated by the human faction," Klaus stated, giving you an icy glare.

"I'm sorry to hear that," you said sincerely.

Klaus leaned in, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. "Are you still involved with the humans? Are you a spy for them?"

"Niklaus," Elijah’s voice cut through the tension, he was standing on the balcony above, giving his brother a stern look. "There's no way she's a spy. She was abused by them, not collaborating with them."

Klaus crossed his arms, skepticism etched on his face. "Abuse could be a convenient cover, Elijah. We both know the lengths people go to achieve their goals."

You stepped forward, a hint of frustration in your voice. "I had a run-in with some of the faction wives. They insulted and questioned me, I'm not a spy."

Klaus raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "What did you talk about?"

"Just casual things," you replied with a forced nonchalance. "The honeymoon, mostly. They threw in some comments about vampires not being able to procreate. It was just a rather short and grating interaction."

Elijah descended the stairs and stood beside you, placing a protective hand on your waist. "When did this happen?" He asked gently.

"Like an hour ago," you replied, looking from Klaus to Elijah as they shared a silent exchange. "Do you think the attack has something to do with me?"

"Possibly," Klaus replied, pacing around with his usual dramatic flair. "The attack happened not long after your interaction with them."

Elijah's phone suddenly rang, and his expression turned dark when he answered it. Klaus was staring at him, clearly listening to the conversation you couldn't hear; his expression changed from serious to frighteningly amused.

When Elijah hung up, a heavy sigh escaped him, and he looked at Klaus with a deep furrow in his brow. "It seems we have been invited to a dinner party with your former faction," he said to you, bitterness lacing his tone.

"Why?" you asked, the word barely escaping your lips as a surge of anxiety tightened your throat.

"Apparently, renegotiations," Elijah replied with a hint of darkness in his tone, his gaze locking onto yours. He gently clasped your trembling hand, planting a reassuring kiss against it. "You will be fine," he assured you.

"I thought as much," Klaus said with a bitter laugh, "Looks like your little alliance isn't going as you planned, dear brother."

Elijah shot Klaus a disapproving glare. "I understand you've never approved of my methods, but everything I did was to avoid further bloodshed."

Klaus rolled his eyes, beginning to stroll away, leaving you both with a sardonic smile. "It appears my methods might be more fitting in this situation, unless you're willing to return her," Klaus uttered darkly, gesturing toward you.

Elijah’s grip on your waist tightened. "That's not an option."

"I know, brother, I know," Klaus laughed as he left the courtyard, clearly amused by the whole situation.

Despite Elijah's comforting words, irrational thoughts flooded your mind. Was Klaus right? Was this some cruel ploy to reclaim you, to drag you back into a life you had just escaped?

Elijah sensed your apprehension, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. "I won't let anything happen to you," he vowed, his eyes filled with a protective intensity.

"You don’t know what they are like," you confessed nervously, your voice barely above a whisper. "What if they want to break the alliance? Take me back?"

Elijah's gaze held a steady determination. "They can break the alliance if they please, but that would be remarkably unwise of them," he replied, his tone unwavering. He tightened his embrace, as if shielding you from an impending storm. "You're not a pawn to be traded back and forth; they have no power to reclaim you."

Elijah's confidence gave you strength, calming the waves of anxiety that threatened to engulf you. He would protect you. No one could take you away from him.

A small smile curled his lips as he placed a soft kiss against your forehead. "This might actually be a blessing in disguise," he mused, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Perhaps a demonstration of their misguided arrogance is required."

"No," you said firmly, folding your arms across your chest.

"You would look so beautiful in it," Elijah protested, gesturing toward the garment bag draped over a chair.

"It's not really dinner party appropriate," you said with a shrug, not wanting to reveal the real reason behind your reluctance.

Elijah cocked his head, studying you intently. "Is this about the dress or something else?"

You hesitated, glancing away. "It's about everything. The attack, the faction wives, the fact that I'm about to dine with people who treated me like property."

"They have no power over you anymore," Elijah reminded you, gently taking your hand in his. "And where has your rebellious spirit flown off too all of a sudden?"

"I guess I just want to prove them wrong," you said, shrugging slightly. "I want them to see that I've won, that I'm happy. Wearing a dress that is far too risqué would undermine that."

"My dear," Elijah murmured, pulling you close and gently cupping your cheek, "They will never accept you as anything other than an object. No matter what you wear. That is not your burden to bear; it is theirs."

His words pierced through your self-doubt, filling you with a newfound sense of conviction. He was right; your only duty was to be yourself, not to try and live up to their impossible expectations.

"You’re right," you said, looking up at him as a devious smile spread across your lips. "But it will piss them off, and that could make negotiations more difficult."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," he replied with a smirk, his arms wrapping around your waist affectionately.

Your eyes narrowed, a playful smirk tugging at your lips. "So, you want me to dress up to embarrass them?"

Elijah leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I want you to show them exactly who you are and how powerful you have become," he said softly, giving you an encouraging kiss on the cheek.

With a renewed sense of determination, you stepped towards the garment bag and fully unzipped it, taking out a breathtaking silk dress. It was black, with a daringly low back and a slit that would reveal almost all of your leg. It was the perfect mix of sophisticated and sexy, the kind of dress that the faction would completely disapprove of.

You smiled as you slipped on the dress, savoring the feeling of the cool silk against your skin. A thrill ran through you at the thought of what tonight might bring, a strange mix of anxiety and excitement.

Elijah looked at you, a combination of pride and admiration on his face. The hunger in his eyes was palpable, and it made you want to rip his clothes off and let him have his way with you.

But, alas, there was a dinner party to attend.

The car pulled up to the grand estate, and the familiar sight stirred memories you had fought hard to bury. The imposing structure, the opulent surroundings—they whispered of a past that still clung to you. It had only been a few weeks since you had left this life behind, and now you were thrust back into its midst.

Elijah ushered you through the door, his hand offering warmth and reassurance as he drew you close. "Try and relax. I will kill them all before they lay a finger on you," he assured with a grin, sealing the promise with a gentle kiss on your cheek before guiding you inside.

As dinner approached, you found yourself surrounded by your adoptive sisters and faction wives, a gathering of women who had consistently cast you as the family's black sheep. The forced marriage to Elijah was intended to be your punishment, and in the weeks leading up to the wedding, they took every opportunity to remind you of it.

Their eyes, once filled with disdain, now flickered with a mix of envy and fear as they noticed Elijah's presence across the room.

"Isn't he attractive," one of them commented, eyes lingering on Elijah. "I wish my husband looked like that."

"He's a vampire, for goodness' sake. I wouldn't want to be near him," another replied, her tone a mix of fascination and repulsion.

You smiled politely, choosing not to engage in their speculative chatter. The women, fueled by curiosity and perhaps a tinge of jealousy, couldn't resist bombarding you with questions.

"So, how does he... treat you?" one of them asked, her expression a mix of faux concern and genuine intrigue.

"Does he, like, drink your blood?" another blurted out with a shudder, as if the mere thought was enough to make her cringe.

"He must mind-control you, being a vampire and all," another woman remarked, her tone dripping with condescension.

You attempted to change the subject. "Do you ladies know what this dinner party is about?" You asked, trying to seem nonchalant.

"Our husbands don't share that sort of information with us," one added, giving you a critical look. "It's not for us to concern ourselves with."

"I've heard it's because your husband is not living up to his end of the deal," another added, clearly loving the chance to gossip.

"No, Elijah is a man of his word." You argued, looking around at the women. "I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding."

"There is no misunderstanding your recent behavior," the ringleader interjected. "Perhaps the faction is unhappy with your marriage, that it's not meeting their expectations," she added, barely hiding her amusement.

"What was the expectation exactly? That I'd be subjugated by my husband?" you replied harshly.

They scoffed, exchanging knowing glances. "You have been parading around like a whore and out in public without an escort. I've also heard rumors about that honeymoon of yours; you always did have a penchant for the scandalous," one of them commented, a malicious smirk playing on her face.

You raised an eyebrow, unable to resist returning their insults. "Well, I suppose being miserable is a tradition around here. But don't worry, I'll let you know if I ever need advice on how to be unhappy and unsatisfied."

"Oh, dear," one of them scoffed, feigning pity. "You must be so blinded by the allure of a vampire that you can't see the chains he'll undoubtedly tighten around you."

Another chimed in, suggesting, "Perhaps he inflicts pain in bed, then erases it from your mind with mind control."

"It's only fitting you endure such punishment, since you tarnished yourself before marriage," added another with a venomous tone.

"You know, it's fascinating how you all revel in your misery," you retorted, your words cutting through the whispers of the women.

"I heard vampires get bored easily," one of them sneered. "What happens when he loses interest in you?"

As their petty remarks continued, you maintained your composure, refusing to let their jealousy and bitterness affect you. Just before the conversation could delve further into the realm of absurdity, Elijah gracefully approached, cutting through the toxic atmosphere with his warm presence.

"Ladies," he greeted them with a charming smile, "how delightful to see you all."

They greeted him with forced smiles, their eyes shifting between you and Elijah. The ringleader couldn't resist her curiosity. "Are you happy with your new bride, Mr. Mikaelson?"

Elijah's eyes met yours, a fondness in their depths. "Immensely," he replied sincerely. "I believe I've married the best your faction has to offer."

A collective gasp rippled through the women, and you couldn't help but smirk at their transparent jealousy. Elijah then turned to you, placing a gentle kiss on your cheek that seemed calculated to fuel their envy.

"I must steal my lovely wife away for a moment," he announced, gently leading you away from the disapproving gazes. The lingering resentment from the women was almost tangible as you followed Elijah, escaping the judgmental whispers.

"They implied that they know details about our honeymoon, what a bunch of fucking weirdos," you whispered to Elijah in the shelter of a quiet corridor.

A small, understanding smile played on his lips as he gently pushed you against a wall, leaning in to kiss you softly. "They have spies everywhere," he whispered. His lips then trailed down your neck, each kiss a deliberate act of defiance against the gossiping crowd.

"They are being petty and bitter, still trying to punish me," you admitted breathlessly, your emotions a whirlwind as Elijah's touches sparked a mixture of desire and rebellion.

"What exactly did you do?" Elijah asked, gently pulling away from the delicate curve of your neck, curiosity dancing in his eyes. "You only mentioned that you were not considered pure by them."

You placed your hands on his chest, idly toying with his tie. "I may have been caught, you know, engaging in some activities with a young man in the garden," you confessed, avoiding direct eye contact, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

A low chuckle escaped Elijah, followed by another gentle kiss. "Good work," he teased, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "I'm sure that stirred up quite a reaction." 

"It did," you responded, a sheepish grin crossing your face. "They couldn't proceed with marrying me off to his father after that."

You made eye contact with Elijah and the both of you burst out laughing, the sound echoing unexpectedly in the quiet corridor. Swiftly realizing the need for composure, you both attempted to stifle the laughter.

"We can always try to further tarnish your reputation," Elijah teased, a playful grin on his lips as he leaned in for another kiss.

Your smile lingered, but you gently pushed him away. "As much as I would love that," you replied playfully, "I believe we should consider playing along. Maybe we can still find a way to maintain some semblance of peace." 

"If that is what you desire," Elijah responded with a smile. He took your hand and led you toward the dining hall.

The air in the grand dining room was thick with tension as you headed to your seat. This room, once off-limits to you, now hosted a gathering that felt more like a trial than a negotiation. Familiar faces, some masked in false pleasantries, stared back at you. Uncomfortable memories resurfaced, and you wished you could erase the knowledge of these people from your past.

Elijah guided you with a protective hand on the small of your back, his presence a reassuring anchor in the storm of emotions. You sat down next to your adoptive mother, avoiding her icy gaze. The air was thick with tension, and the clinking of cutlery against fine china echoed through the room.

Your former adoptive mother stood, gesturing for the other guests to remain seated. Her stern gaze turned to you and Elijah.

"It is so good to see you both," she began, her voice dripping with fake sincerity. "I'm sorry we haven't had the opportunity to properly catch up."

You forced a smile, hoping it was convincing enough. "The pleasure is all ours, mother," you lied. "Thank you for hosting such a wonderful evening."

The dinner progressed as expected, with the usual banal small talk and insincere pleasantries. You could feel the tension in the room, a palpable reminder that no one truly wanted you here.

As the dessert was taken away, your adoptive father stood and cleared his throat, capturing the attention of everyone in the room. "Mr. Mikaelson," he began, addressing your husband with a stern gaze, "It seems that we must discuss some new terms if our alliance is to be maintained."

Elijah, ever composed, inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the formality. "I am open to discussions," he replied evenly.

"When we agreed to marry one of our precious daughters to you, we expected a more old-fashioned approach. There must be a clear understanding of hierarchy. We are aware that our dear daughter may have... unconventional views on equality, but for the sake of harmony, you must maintain a certain level of control over her." your adoptive father continued, his gaze unwavering.

"So, you’ve called me here to discuss… what exactly?" Elijah asked, his voice dripping with disdain. "That I make my wife unhappy?"

The tension in the room escalated, each word carrying the weight of expectations and the unspoken threat of consequences. You gripped the edge of your chair, feeling the eyes of the faction bore into you.

"Our faction values tradition, and you and your wife's... liberal perspectives should not compromise the delicate balance we've achieved." Your adoptive mother added, her tone icy. 

"My understanding is that you view me as an evil, degenerate monster, and yet you willingly gave your daughter to my family." Elijah said smoothly, leaning casually in his chair and looking around the table at the cowering faces. "It was you that insisted on a marriage pact, because you wanted to punish her."

Your former adoptive mother sighed and rolled her eyes. "She was always a rebellious child, and we had hoped she would learn some discipline under your watch."

"You have no authority to impose any rules over my wife, and as her husband, I have every right to ensure her happiness," Elijah replied, his voice low and dangerous.

The faction members exchanged uneasy glances, sensing a shift in the balance of power. Elijah continued, sarcasm lacing his words. "I apologize that your punishment didn't go as planned… but that's not my concern. Now do you have anything of actual value to discuss with me?"

Amidst the whispered threats and veiled insults, your adoptive mother leaned in, her voice a venomous whisper. "You're nothing more than a vampire's whore, my dear. He'll grow tired of you, mark my words. You'll age, and when you're no longer a viable hole, he'll discard you like yesterday's trash."

The words cut deep, and you shot her a wounded look. It wasn't the first time they had called you a whore, but it stung more this time. 

"I'd rather be a vampire's whore than a spineless, miserable woman like you." You seethed. The words were out of your mouth before you could think.

She laughed, her voice sharp and cold. "You truly are a disgrace to the family."

Before you could respond, Elijah placed a calming hand on yours. He smiled, the gesture a sharp contrast to the rage you knew he was fighting to control. "Let me make something perfectly clear. She is a Mikaelson now and you have no control over what we do,"

Elijah's voice, though measured, carried a stern authority that demanded attention. The faction members, accustomed to their position of influence, shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Your adoptive mother, however, met Elijah's gaze with a defiant smirk.

"We understand, but surely you can see the wisdom in maintaining a balance between power and freedom. You wouldn't want our factions to go to war because of her actions, now would you?" Your adoptive mother challenged, her gaze fixed on Elijah.

Elijah's lips curved into a sardonic smile. "You seem to be under the illusion that I need this alliance. I agreed to it for the sake of peace, but do not mistake my compliance for weakness. I could easily rip out every single one of your tongues before you could utter a word in protest."

The room fell silent, and a cold shiver ran down the spines of the faction members as they found themselves face to face with the unyielding determination of a thousand-year-old vampire. Elijah's eyes gleamed with a dangerous glint, and the air became charged with an unmistakable tension.

Your adoptive father, attempting to salvage some semblance of control, stammered, "Mr. Mikaelson, there's no need for threats. We are merely trying to establish a harmonious relationship."

Elijah's gaze remained fixed on your adoptive mother, his tone low and menacing. "My family has a tendency to respond decisively when one of our own is threatened."

Elijah's words hung in the air like a dark omen. The grand dining room, once a space for diplomacy and negotiation, now crackled with an impending sense of conflict. The faction members, who had been so assured of their position, exchanged uneasy glances as the weight of Elijah's threat settled over them.

Your adoptive mother, her earlier bravado waning, swallowed hard. The malicious glint in her eyes faded into a flicker of doubt. For the first time, the façade of control she had meticulously maintained began to crumble.

Elijah rose to his feet, causing unease to ripple through the faction members. He bestowed upon them a sinister smile, wide but devoid of warmth, "Well then, it appears negotiations have reached their conclusion." His gaze shifted to your adoptive father, the sinister expression unwavering. "If we are not allies, I suppose we are at war."

With that, Elijah turned to you, reaching out his hand, and together, you walked out of the room, leaving the faction to their fear and uncertainty. The night air was cool and fresh as you stepped out into the garden, the tension finally releasing from your shoulders. Elijah's presence beside you was comforting, a solid reassurance that the night was over.

He pulled you close, his eyes searching yours. "Are you alright?" he asked softly, his hand caressing your cheek.

You smiled, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. "I'm fine," you replied, leaning into his touch. His other hand found yours, fingers intertwining in a silent affirmation of unity.

"You didn't have to do that for me," you said quietly, feeling far too vulnerable to meet his gaze.

"Of course I did," he replied, softly, placing a lingering kiss on your cheek. "You are my family."

As you gazed into his eyes, a feeling of longing bloomed within you. "I can't believe you threatened them like that," you breathed.

"Well, they were being quite rude," Elijah remarked, his voice tinged with amusement.

His lips grazed yours in a soft kiss, his arms pressing your body to his. You let yourself sink into the moment, savoring the quiet intimacy. He pulled away from the kiss and looked around the garden, giving you a mischievous look. “You know… I have an idea,"

You raised an eyebrow, amused by his sudden playful demeanor. "Oh, really? And what would that be?"

He didn't answer, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. You followed him deeper into the garden, where he pulled you close and began to kiss you again. His hands moved up your back, tracing your bare skin with his fingertips.

"Elijah," you gasped, his touches setting every nerve on fire. “What if they catch us out here?" 

He didn't respond, just kissed you harder, his lips hungry and eager. You surrendered to the kiss, letting yourself fall into the passion of the moment.

The night air was filled with the sound of your breathless moans as Elijah kissed your neck, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin. He slowly pulled down the straps of your dress, revealing your bare chest to the moonlight.

His eyes roamed over your body, taking in every curve and inch of skin. He cupped one breast, teasing the nipple with his thumb. Your breath caught as his other hand slipped under the slit of your dress, his fingers exploring the hem of your panties.

“Where exactly did they catch you with that boy?" He whispered in your ear.

"Behind the fountain," you said, the memory making you blush.

A playful smile danced across his lips. He took your hand and led you behind the stone sculpture, pressing you against the wall. He kissed your neck, his lips lingering on the soft skin. You felt his fingers sliding under the thin fabric of your underwear.

You bit your lip, stifling a moan as his fingers brushed against your clit, his eyes fixed on your face. He stroked the sensitive spot slowly, watching your reaction with a satisfied smile.

"Did he touch you here?" he asked softly.

"Yes," you managed to breathe out, your heart racing at the memory.

Elijah's lips curved into a smirk, his gaze darkening. He pressed his body closer, a hand running down your leg and lifting your thigh around his hip. His fingers continued their gentle rhythm before he slipped a finger inside you, his lips inches away from yours.

"And did you enjoy it?" he whispered.

"Yes," you gasped.

He increased the pressure, his fingers moving faster, drawing a gasp from you. You felt the familiar tightening in your stomach, the heat building between your legs.

"I bet he was clumsy and inexperienced," he teased, his voice a low purr.

You moaned in response, your eyes closing as his fingers slid deeper.

"I bet he didn't know how to please a woman like you."

His breath was hot on your skin as his fingers continued their slow rhythm, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

"Elijah," you whimpered.

"What is it, sweetheart?" he asked.

"I need more," you pleaded.

His lips curved into a smirk. "More, what?"

"Stop teasing me," you moaned, gripping at his shoulders.

He chuckled and slid a second finger inside you, curling them at the perfect angle. You gasped as his fingers began moving faster, his thumb circling your clit. Your breath came in short gasps, your body trembling under his touch.

You felt the pressure building, your hips bucking against his hand, desperate for release. 

He withdrew his fingers and his lips captured yours, kissing you deeply. You whined into his mouth, desperately frustrated by his denial. 

“Please fuck me," you begged, your hands gripping his hair, keeping him close to you.

“Where is the nearest bench?" He teased, a wide lustful smile on his face. 

You pointed to a nearby stone bench behind him and he scooped you up and in a flash you were seated in his lap upon it. 

His lips claimed yours again, and his hands gripped your hips. You straddled him, your hands roaming his body, feeling his muscles flex beneath his shirt. You could feel his cock straining against his pants, and you rubbed yourself against it, desperate for friction.

"So impatient," he teased, his voice a low growl.

You reached down, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants. You took him in your hand, stroking him slowly. His breath hitched, his hips bucking against your touch.

“You know, I had this particularly naughty idea of fucking you right on the dining table," he purred, gazing at you with admiration.

You moaned at the thought, imagining him taking you on the grand table, surrounded by the shocked faces of the faction members. You lifted yourself slightly and lowered onto his length, savoring the way he filled you.

His eyes closed, a soft groan escaping his lips. You began to move, riding him slowly, taking him deeper with each thrust.

His hands gripped your hips, guiding you as you rocked against him. You moaned, feeling the tension building again. You leaned forward, pressing your breasts into his face.

He began kissing and sucking your nipples, his teeth gently scraping against the sensitive skin. The sensation sent shivers through your body, and you cried out, arching your back.

You quickly covered your mouth, afraid of getting caught. He smiled, his hands pulling your arms away, allowing your moans to fill the air.

"Let them hear," he growled.

He gripped your hips tighter, thrusting up into you with a fierce intensity. You leaned forward, burying your face in his neck, muffling your cries. You began to tighten around him, your body shaking with pleasure.

"I told you, sweet wife, don't be quiet," he commanded.

You let go, moaning his name as the orgasm rocked your body. Your nails dug into his shoulders, and you felt him tense, his cock pulsing inside you as he filled you with his cum.

You collapsed against him, breathing heavily, and his arms wrapped around you. He kissed your temple, holding you close.

"Are you ready to go home?" He asked softly.

You nodded, still catching your breath. "Yes."

He smiled and picked you up, his arms cradling you. You felt safe and content in his embrace, the stress of the evening fading away. He set you down near the car, some of the faction members had gathered outside, watching you with disapproving glares. 

“They definitely heard us," you whispered as Elijah opened the passenger door for you.

He leaned down and kissed you on the cheek, the gesture full of warmth and love. "Good," he said. "Let them hear how happy I make you."

As you sat in the car, watching him walk around to the driver's side, a thought crossed your mind. This was what real freedom was, the freedom to love and be loved. It was not the absence of boundaries, but the choice to cross them when it suited you.

You gazed at Elijah, his eyes shining in the dim light of the car, and your heart swelled. It was in that moment you realized that you had truly fallen for him.

When you arrived at the compound, Elijah went off to discuss matters with Klaus, and you returned to your bedroom. You were still getting used to the place being your home. Elijah put in a lot of effort to make you feel comfortable, even suggesting renovations. You laughed at the idea, the entire concept so foreign to the life you had always known.

You eyed the record you had purchased that morning; after the day's events, you had completely forgotten about it. You smiled and unwrapped it, placing it on the new record player Elijah had bought for you.

You smiled as the music filled the room, pulling off your dress and changing into more comfortable clothing. Then you settled by the fireplace, sinking into the sofa and letting out a soft sigh of contentment. Feeling relaxed was something you had to practice. Living back with the faction, you were always on edge, and even when you slept, your dreams were fraught with anxiety. But somehow, here, surrounded by the deadliest family on earth, you felt safe and calm.

You heard a knock at the door and expected to see Elijah, to your surprise it was Klaus, leaning in the doorframe with his usual causal arrogance.

“Sorry to interrupt, but I was wondering if we could have a little chat," he said, a sly smile playing on his lips.

Curiosity piqued, you invited him in and he took a seat next to you. 

"Now that you're part of the family, I thought it was high time we got to know each other better," Klaus began, his tone surprisingly genial.

You seized the opportunity to address the lingering suspicion. "Do you still think I'm a spy?"

Klaus brushed off the question with a chuckle. "Let's leave suspicions behind for now. I'm more interested in hearing about your honeymoon, the one I so thoughtfully planned."

“It was lovely," you said sincerely, giving him a kind smile. “But the lingerie was a bit presumptuous of you," you teased.

Klaus chuckled, "Well, I thought if you two bonded, such undergarments would be appreciated."

You rolled your eyes at his comment, “well, the rest of it was very nice," you replied politely. “But I'm confused as to why you planned it in the first place," 

Klaus leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Why not? I enjoy orchestrating delightful surprises, and what better way to test the strength of your newfound alliance than a romantic getaway?"

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "I thought you hated the alliance,"

He smirked. “I just wanted you two lovebirds to have a memorable time."

You sighed, realizing Klaus's motives were often shrouded in layers of complexity. "Fair enough. It was, indeed, memorable."

He leaned in, his tone turning more serious. "I hope the robbers didn't rough you up too much,"

Your eyes narrowed. "Elijah told you about that?"

Klaus shrugged coyly, "I just hope it didn't dampen the mood,"

You frowned. "Are you saying you orchestrated that?"

“When Elijah told me he was to marry, I did my research," Klaus gave you a knowing grin. “I was confused as to why the human faction would marry one of their women to a vampire, they loathe our very existence. They treat their women like livestock, to be traded and bred, so why would they insist on a marriage when they gain nothing from it? Then, I learned you were a bit infamous for being promiscuous."

You blushed, hating the knowledge of your poor reputation spreading. “Great," you said sarcastically, unable to meet Klaus’ gaze.

“I knew Elijah would treat you with the kind of respect you had never experienced before and the faction wouldn't be pleased, when they obviously handed you over as a way to hurt you," Klaus continued, giving you a wicked grin. 

“How perceptive of you," you replied sardonically. “I fail to see why having me attacked on my honeymoon factors in," 

Klaus leaned back, a self-satisfied smile on his face. "You see, my dear, Elijah has a weakness. He can't resist saving a pretty face, and most women can't resist his heroic charm. It was meant to be a bonding exercise."

“So you saw a way to break the alliance, by using me to manipulate Elijah," you responded, a mixture of disbelief and frustration coloring your tone.

Klaus's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Oh, my dear, alliances in our world are as fickle as the wind. I merely set the stage for the inevitable. The human faction, their minds poisoned by centuries-old prejudices, would never truly accept a truce with vampires. This little ordeal was just the spark needed to set the powder keg ablaze."

You sighed, realizing that in the world of vampires, alliances and betrayals were as common as the moon in the night sky. "And what if I had been seriously hurt?"

Klaus's expression turned serious, a rare glimpse of sincerity in his eyes. “I compelled that robber to rough you up, not kill you," 

Despite the reassurance, a lingering unease settled in the pit of your stomach. "So, what now? Are we on the brink of war?"

Klaus chuckled, the sound carrying a hint of danger. "War, my dear, is inevitable. It's just a matter of when and how. I'm merely expediting the process. The human faction will never peacefully coexist with us. It's in their nature to fear what they don't understand."

You leaned back, grappling with the weight of the revelation. The idyllic honeymoon, orchestrated by Klaus, was nothing more than a chess move in a larger game of power and dominance. You were a pawn, unwittingly playing your part in a conflict that seemed destined to unfold.

"And what about Elijah?" you asked, your gaze piercing Klaus's calculating façade.

"Elijah will do what he must to protect what he loves," Klaus replied cryptically. "As will I."

“Well, just so you know, what you did wasn't even necessary," you replied, the flames from the fireplace dancing in your eyes. “Elijah and I had already bonded before the attack," 

Klaus let out a soft chuckle and stood up, “Elijah generally has that effect, I was just ensuring it," he teased. “Welcome to the family love," with that, he departed, leaving you equally annoyed and amused. 

Elijah returned shortly after, wearing an expression of irritation. He settled down beside you, casually draping his arm over the back of the sofa behind you. 

You smiled at him. "Bad meeting?"

He let out a tired sigh. "My brother has decided to be insufferable. But that's nothing new… I heard him come by here afterwards, what did he want from you?"

You turned to him, giving him a teasing smile. "Oh, you know, just trying to find out how the honeymoon was."

Elijah raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Did he mention how he set us up?"

"Yes," you replied with a chuckle, “he definitely gives interesting wedding presents."

Elijah's gaze softened. "I am sorry for my brother's antics."

"Well, I suppose it all worked out, except that we are now on the brink of war," you said with a teasing smile, leaning closer and kissing him.

Elijah brow furrowed and he sighed deeply, not returning the kiss. You gave him a concerned look, cupping his cheek as he avoided your gaze. “Care to go for a walk?" he proposed.

You nodded, a hint of anxiety bubbling within.

The journey led you to a quiet park bench overlooking the water. The night was still, the sky painted in inky black hues, and the only sounds were the distant hum of crickets and the gentle waves hitting the rocks.

"I want to discuss something important with you," Elijah spoke quietly, avoiding direct eye contact.

“The breaking of the alliance will have consequences, and you will be in the crossfire," he explained seriously, his hand finding yours. "This marriage puts a target on your back. I offer you your freedom—you can leave. I'll provide all the money you'll ever need, and you can make a real life for yourself, far away from this world."

In contemplative silence, you looked at Elijah. His expression held profound sadness. Though you hadn't known him for long, you understood the depth of his selflessness, doing what he believed was right, not necessarily what he desired.

"Elijah," you said softly, reaching out to cup his cheek. "You are the first person in my life who actually cares about me, and in return, I care about you. I'm not going anywhere."

"You won't have the life you deserve with me," he asserted, placing his hand on yours. "You can go, find a love you choose, have children, do whatever you want."

With a deep breath, you gazed into Elijah's eyes, unwavering in your determination. "I take my vows as seriously as you do," you asserted, your voice steady. "I choose you, Elijah."

He nodded to himself, his gaze shifting to the tranquil water. In a sudden, graceful move, he moved off the bench and dropped to one knee, looking at you with a serious expression, his eyebrows slightly raised. Elijah removed his daylight ring, extending it towards you.

"What are you doing?" you asked in surprise, chuckling at his gesture. "You are ruining your pants, kneeling in the dirt."

"Will you be my wife?" he asked, a gentle smile gracing his lips.

"Pretty sure I already am," you laughed, reaching out to pull him back to the bench, but he playfully slapped your hand away.

He chuckled softly, his eyes gleaming with affection. "This time, it's your choice,"

A warm smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you realized the sincerity in his eyes. "Yes," you answered, your voice filled with a mixture of joy and affection. "I would be honored."

Elijah's eyes softened, a genuine happiness reflecting in them. He slipped the daylight ring onto your finger and then pulled you into his arms. In the warmth of that park, surrounded by the night's stillness, you kissed him. Then, you uttered those three powerful words for the first time. "I love you, Elijah."

His eyes, already soft with affection, seemed to deepen in emotion. A wide smile spread across his features, and he pulled you even closer, as if wanting to etch this moment into eternity. "And I love you."

Epilogue

The sun streaming through the curtains roused you from sleep, and as you turned, you found your husband still in peaceful slumber. His serene expression intrigued you, wondering about the pleasant dreams that might be occupying his mind. You rested your head on his shoulder, snuggling close and listening to his deep breathing. He let out a soft sigh and a gentle grunt as he woke, kissing the top of your head sleepily. His arms wrapped around you, as he rested his head on yours. 

Your fingers traced a path down his chest and torso, igniting a warmth that intensified between your legs. Slipping beneath the blankets, your hand settled over his boxers, sensing his arousal growing beneath your touch.

"Hmm," he mumbled, his finger gently lifting your chin, tilting your head upward, and capturing your lips in a kiss.

A smile played on your lips as you returned the kiss, your hand continuing its slow, teasing strokes through the fabric.

Elijah responded with a low, appreciative hum, his hands exploring the curves of your body as the intensity between you two escalated.

With a subtle movement, he guided you onto your back, breaking the kiss only momentarily. His eyes locked onto yours, a deep intensity reflecting in them.

“What does my lovely wife desire so early in the morning?" He teased, his lips mere inches from your own. 

You let out a soft laugh, feeling the warmth of the morning sunlight creating a cocoon around the two of you. "Mmm...I have a few ideas," you whispered, your voice carrying a hint of playful mischief.

He grinned, his eyes brightening as he lowered his head, his lips grazing your neck. Your eyelids fluttered closed, as you sighed in contentment. The sensation of his mouth and hands elicited a series of breathy moans, a warm ache building between your legs.

“Does my wife need me to fuck her into our bed?" he asked in a soft tone, his hands parting your legs. 

You bit your lip, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that mirrored the desire growing within you. "Desperately," you admitted, a playful gleam in your eyes.

Elijah's hands traced a tantalizing path up your thighs, and his lips met yours in a hungry kiss. “Already so wet for me," he murmured in your ear, his finger brushing over your clit, causing your hips to twitch. Elijah continued to touch you with slow deliberate circles, each movement bringing you closer to the edge.

Unable to resist any longer, you tugged at his boxers. Elijah positioned himself between your legs, the anticipation in his eyes mirroring your own. Eagerly, you reached down, freeing him and rubbing the head of his cock against your wet core.

“Tell me what you want," he whispered, his voice a sultry invitation.

A breathy moan escaped your lips as you met his intense gaze. "I want you," you admitted, desire lacing every word.

Elijah's eyes darkened with a mixture of passion and possessiveness. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly entered you, and a simultaneous gasp of pleasure escaped both of you.

He set a pace of slow, deep strokes, the soft, wet sounds of your bodies colliding filling the room. His eyes were locked onto yours with such intensity that it made your heart skip. The love you shared being conveyed through the physical.

You both moved to a familiar rhythm, his fingers intertwined with yours, pressing them next to your head. The pleasure mounted with every movement, and the warmth from the sun beaming through the curtains covered you in a comforting embrace. He captured your lips again in a soft kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours, as he continued to fuck you at an agonizing pace. The combination of his kisses and the slow, steady thrusts were driving you wild.

“Elijah," you moaned as your climax began to build, the intensity of it threatening to overwhelm you. 

Elijah lifted his head, a smug, satisfied grin spreading across his face. "You are so beautiful when you moan my name like that," he commented.

Elijah kissed you again, and then his lips grazed your neck, his teeth nipping and sucking gently on the sensitive skin. Your breaths came in short gasps as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

You let out a low moan, as his cock began to hit your sweet spot with every stroke, a wave of pleasure running through your body. He continued his movements, his hand finding its way between your bodies, and his thumb stroking your clit.

"Come for me, darling," he murmured, you could feel his warm breath against your neck.

Your head fell back and your eyes closed, as you focused on the feeling of his cock moving in and out of you. A tingling sensation ran through you, and the familiar warmth spread across your body, as you climaxed.

Elijah groaned as you clenched around him and he leaned back, tossing the blankets off of you and splaying his hands across your thighs and pushing them wider. He increased his pace, rolling his hips into you to maintain his deep strokes.

“I can't believe you are all mine," he said in amazement.

Your body trembled with the aftershocks, and you could already feel another orgasm building within you. Elijah continued to rock his hips, and you whimpered with pleasure. He pulled almost completely out, and then thrust back into you, hitting your sweet spot, and making you cry out.

The sensations were overwhelming and you were desperate to hold onto this moment for as long as possible.

“Elijah, please," you begged, not even knowing what for. 

He leaned forward as his fingers tugged on your hair, tilting your head back and exposing your throat. His lips grazed your skin, then he began sucking hard enough to leave a mark. He moved to your mouth, capturing it in a rough, possessive kiss, his tongue tangling with yours.

The sensation sent shivers through your body, and you were so close to the edge that you felt your toes curling.

"I want you to come for me again," he whispered, his words sending a thrill of pleasure through your body.

"Oh, Elijah," you moaned.

“No pretty wife, that's not what I want you to call me," he said teasingly, slowing his pace down and grazing his fingers over your clit once more.

"Husband ," you moaned, feeling a rush of heat through your body as the word slipped from your lips.

"Good wife," he praised.

He continued to move his hips in a torturously slow rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of you with ease. His thumb pressed harder on your clit, rubbing circles, and you writhed, moaning as he brought you closer to your second orgasm.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him against you, needing him, craving him, wanting him more than anything in this moment. Your breaths were ragged as you kissed him, your body trembling as your eyes widened and your back arched as a second orgasm washed over you. You tightened around him and you felt his hips buckle, his thrusts becoming erratic.

He let out a deep moan, burying his face in your neck. Your hands ran through his hair and you pulled his head up, pressing your lips against his. You moaned into his mouth, and you felt his hips buck as he emptied himself into you, the sensation causing your hips to rise and meet his, the waves of pleasure consuming you both.

He collapsed beside you, breathing heavily, and pulling you close, as you both bathed in the warmth of the morning sun.

You rested your head on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comfort.

You felt Elijah's lips brush against your forehead and his fingers tilt your chin upward. His eyes were soft, a tenderness reflecting in their depths.

"I love you, my dear wife," he murmured.

You smiled, your lips meeting his. "And I love you, my dear husband."

Thanks for reading Part 3!

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{Part One} {Part Two}

[astermath]

pierced ☽༓･

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

summary: they say nipple piercings taste like house keys. and there’s no place like home baby. aka ethan finds out you have nipple piercings and naturally, he’s intrigued. 

tags: established relationship, use of female anatomy, no actual sex lol just foreplay, barely proofread, minors dni!!!

word count: 1.3K

notes: always thought nipple piercings were hot tbh but I’m too scared to get them :////// this is my way of coping :///// also again I’m telling y’all i see ethan as a tits man 100% no way around it!!!! 

let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for further ethan landry related content!

You and Ethan had been dating for a few weeks now.

Ethan loved you very much, and there was no way you couldn’t tell. The brunette was practically glued to you, even before you two became a couple. Always had an arm around you, your fingers intertwined when you held hands, having you on his lap whenever he could...

Needless to say, there was no lack of affection in your relationship. But yet, you two hadn’t really done anything sexual yet. Besides a stray hickey or a squeeze of your ass during a heated make-out session, the two of you had been relatively conservative in your touches. Ethan was a virgin, something he’d blurted out randomly to the group before, and the thought of it made you want to take your time with him.

So at times, when all you wanted to do was rip off your clothes and take him, you restrained yourself. Because you liked him. A lot. You wanted things to be different.

He spent a lot of time in your dorm too. Not having a roommate made having some privacy a lot nicer, and he gladly accepted your invitations to stay over every time. 

It had been pretty warm, most of the windows being open as you situated yourself in your small kitchen, pouring you and your boyfriend a drink. Despite it being relatively dark outside already, the heat persisted, and so you decided to wear something other than a baggy shirt for once.

You could hear the lock of your door click open, and you smiled to yourself. Ethan had a spare key to your place, originally just for emergencies, although you’d argue seeing each other was an emergency at any given moment. 

He called out your name, kicking off his shoes and dropping his bag next to them.

“I’m in the kitchen baby!” You opened the fridge, looking through the contents to see what you could make for dinner later. A pair of familiar arms snaked around your waist, a soft hum leaving his hips before he pressed his lips to your neck. “Missed me?” You turned your head to face him.

“Always,” He leaned in, kissing you softly, “it’s so hot outside...”

“Tell me about it.” You closed the fridge and let go of him, snatching one of the iced drinks you poured off the counter and handing it to him. You then grabbed your own, and held it out to clink gently against his. “Cheers to summer in New York.”

“Cheers.” He smiled, taking a good, long sip as his eyes remained on you.

Or more specifically, your chest.

He’d never noticed before, mostly because you hadn’t really worn tops like this in front of him, but he could definitely tell; the outline of two barbell piercings stood stark against the cloth of your top. It was pretty obvious, and his eyes quickly darted away before you’d make a comment about him staring at your tits again.

“Ethan?” You raised an eyebrow, back leaning against the counter.

“Yeah?” His drink was still at his lips.

“You were staring.” You snort, amused by how clueless he was to where his eyes landed. Seemed like it was too late to pretend he wasn’t looking.

“Oh,” His cheeks tinge pink, “I-I’m sorry, I just--” He was so vulnerable to you when you looked at him like that, so expectant, like you wanted him to admit something.

“It’s okay,” You took another sip, holding eye contact. He swore the look you gave him was making his pants tighter already.

“I didn’t know you... Had those...” He wasn’t sure how to phrase it in a way that didn’t make him seem like a creep.

“What?” You tilted your head slightly. “Tits or nipple piercings?” 

“The second one.” He still isn’t sure if you’re about to cuss him out for being a pervert, or if you’re enjoying this.

“I figured,” You chuckled, and he felt the nerves melt off his body. “Just never came up before I guess.”

The two of you spend the rest of your night on the couch, watching a movie. Despite him insisting you watch it carefully, his own attention was elsewhere. He had to admit he didn’t know how to feel about someone else touching your chest and your nipples before he could, but then again, he did think they looked really hot. Even if he just saw them peek through your top a little.

He’d sneak glances every now and then, and as your attention inevitably shifted from the movie to him, and the two of you stumbled into an impromptu make out session, his hands just itched to touch them.

Your kisses were hot, arms slung over his shoulders as you straddled him. His hands settled nicely onto your sides, but you could tell they were slowly creeping up. You grinned against his lips, hips moving slightly against his growing erection. 

“You know,” you spoke softly, lips brushing over his with your words, “if you’re so interested, I could always just show you.”

“W-What?” He pretends to play dumb, but he knows exactly what you mean. His cock twitches slightly at the thought of your naked tits in front of him, and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of touching them before.

You sighed, almost dramatically so, as your hands gripped the hem of your top. You pulled it off in one swift motion, tits bouncing slightly as they were released.

If he wasn’t rock hard already, he absolutely was now.

His mouth was almost watering at the sight of them, swallowing to keep down some of the nervous spit that had gathered in his throat. “Fuck…” He mumbled, before his puppy eyes met yours again. “They’re beautiful… Can I…?” He reached his hand up halfway.

“Of course, they’re healed, you can do whatever to ‘em.” You arched your back a little, further moving your tits into his face.

He seemed hesitant at first, hands coming up to gently cup your soft breasts, humming softly at how perfectly they fit into his hands. They were so soft, and for a moment he couldn’t believe how lucky he was. You were so gorgeous, and you were all his. Only ever his.

His fingers moved over to your nipples, pads running gently over the sensitive buds, eliciting a soft whine from you. The noise only further encouraged him as he continued to play with them. He glanced at you every few seconds, partly to check for any discomfort, but mostly because how pretty you looked, biting your lip to hold back your noises. But he wanted to hear them, he needed to hear them.

So he decided to go a little further, sticking out his tongue, running it achingly slow over your right nipple. The cold metal of the barbell piercing was a strange, but not unwelcome sensation, something he could definitely get used to. The sensation of his warm tongue against your skin, his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulls you closer, hips grinding ever so slightly, it almost makes you dizzy. You never knew he was so eager to touch you, maybe you’d been keeping the poor boy waiting for too long.

He opens his mouth and sucks down, doe eyes peering up at you as his name falls from your lips in a soft moan, sweet as honey. “Ethan...” You whine, hips still moving, chasing friction against his restricted hard-on. 

“Yeah?” His mouth lets go, but his hands stay busy, not giving you a break.

“I-I didn’t know you-- shit-- wanted to touch me this bad baby...”

He grins sheepishly, sitting up a bit more to capture your lips in his. 

“I can show you just how bad I’ve been wanting you...” He mumbles between kisses. “Please?”

tag list <3

@kometqh @dizscreams @sweet-tea-in-the-summer1989 @aurorawhisperz @777iii @cyueksims @m-ar-i @em-writes-posts @kn1n3

[krypticcafe]

Happy Super Late Valentines </3

rating: PG-13/teen

pairing: harry warden/the miner x gn!reader

warning(s): reader had a boyfriend, brief mention of cheating, small mentions of blood, violence, and gore, and harry being scary, for j u s t a bit.

synopsis: you had a shitty valentines day, and harry comes to pick up the leftovers.

a/n: okay, I haven't written fanfic in years, so please excuse me if this comes off as an uber corny dumpster fire. I'm just trying to have fun :'))))

So what if it's Valentine's Day?

So what if you wanted to spend a peaceful time with your boyfriend at home with some baked cookies?

So what if you accidentally burnt those cookies?

So what if you were so paranoid that it felt like someone was watching you the entire time?

So what if your boyfriend pushed asked you to go with him and his friends in some spooky abandoned mineshaft?

So what if you were surrounded by couples making out in a cramped, dark, and cold nooks and crannies and one of them happened to be your best friend and your now ex-boyfriend?

So what if you lashed out, dumped him, stormed out of the cave only to get more lost due to the heat of your anger?

It's fine. It's whatever. Could be worse.

Or at least that's what you told yourself to cope with the shredding of your heart and the burning tears.

Oooooh, but that bastard! The audacity to cheat on you, with her of all people! And he was such an idiot to do so after inviting you to come! Did he not think for a fraction of a second that he'd get caught? Or did all the blood in his brain just go to his dic-

God, what were you thinking, coming here with those guys, giving him the time of day?

Looking back on things, you realized you dodged not a bullet, but a whole missile. But did it reslly have to be on Valentines Day of all days? The world really is just that cruel.

And it was about to get even more cruel.

Screams, maybe half a dozen of them, echoed and bounced off the walls of the cave, finding their way to you. At first, you assumed the group was messing with each other. Either way, you could care less.

Then they started growing more frequent and louder, and you scowled.

'In here after that fiasco? Really? Christ, I'm never going out with any of them ever aga-'

Then you heard a blood-curdling scream. Suddenly, you started to prefer the possibility of what you originally thought they were doing.

Your head whipped to the tunnel left of you as you heard a scream far too familiar, and your body began to curl in on itself as you sat in a ball in the corner.

Footsteps began beating from the same corridor where the scream originated.

Anticipating the worst, you wiped the blur from your eyes, took a deep breath, and braced your hand over a nearby stone that you deemed good enough to buy you some time.

The footsteps grew louder, but remained at a painstakingly steady pace, as if to tease your demise. There was a loud thunk! before the screech of metal scraping rock pierced your ears. You were half expecting to see the grim reaper at this point.

Instead, you were greeted with someone else who might as well be the same person. They were tall, broad, and clad in nothing but a full set of miner's gear. Not a single speck of skin peeked past any part of their clothing, and their mask even managed to hide their eyes behind the dark lens. With what little brightness there was provided by the dim cave lights, you just barely noticed the glistening of the blood on their uniform and the way it dripped down the tip of their pickaxe.

You recognized him as the man from the town's local urban legend. It always seemed cheesy and way too cliche to you but here you were, face to face with the man, the myth himself. Would he make you another one of his victims tonight? Would your death become just another story told at the campfire? The thought made your stomach turn.

The two of you stayed in silence, your hand still gripping the stone while you stared at the miner, searching for any movement that suggesting that you'd be the next one to eat metal. But all you could see was the way his chest heaved, rising and falling from what you understood as the cause of all those screams from earlier.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Clank!

To your surprise, he set down his pickaxe and approached you, kneeling down to your curled form. His head tilted slightly, as if to get a better look at you. A part of you wished you could see his eyes, wondered where he stared, why he stared. As embarrassing as it is to admit, you froze like a deer in headlights, squeezing your eyes shut when he lifted a hand and-

... wiped a tear on your cheek.

You didn't even remember the stone until he pried it from your hand and interlaced your fingers with his, pulling you up with him and into his embrace as he lightly petted your head.

Was he... comforting you?

It would've worked well if uh, he didn't reek of blood and dust.

Staying still as if your life depended on it (it probably did), you let him do as he pleased.

He pulled away from you but kept a gentle grip on your hand, nodding his head in the direction of the tunnels. You couldn't be bothered to question anything anymore, shock was the only thing that kept the fatigue from catching up.

He led you down countless tunnels and caverns, passing by bodies mangled beyond recognition, except for one. You were pretty sure that one was the cretin.

The entire time, the hold his hand had on yours was nothing short of soft and comforting, it almost warmed your heart. Almost.

Eventually, you found where he was taking you, back to the entrance of the mineshaft. He let go of your hand and urged you to the opening. Hesitantly stepping forward, you paused and looked back. He still stood there, though less menacing than he was before despite all the blood and dirt caked on him.

"I- uh... thank you."

Your voice was shaky from processing the events of the past few hours and you had no requirement to thank him, but you felt like you'd regret it if you didn't. The sentiment came across, and he nodded, reaching up again to trace a thumb on your cheek before giving it an affectionate pinch. You watched as he turned and left back into the abyss of the mines, disappearing into the cavern.

It was still dark outside, but you knew the way back from here. You were no longer shaking, nor seething, and the walk back home was oddly peaceful for it being so late in the night.

So what if you might want to see him again?

Bonus

The next morning, you woke up with your eyes feeling raw and your feet sore, but work calls and you had to get up nonetheless.

Nursing a cup of coffee, you checked your door for any mail, instead finding a bright red, heart-shaped box at your doorstep. Fortunately, it didn't contain any beating human heart as the urban legends told, but interestingly enough, a single wild rose and a card.

"Happy Valentines, won't you be mine? - Harry"

[stormhearty]

Pairings: Former Azriel x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Triggers: nightmares, mentions of blood, death, depression

Summary: It has been several years since your death and your tenth death anniversary is coming up once more. It had, and always will be, a difficult time for the Inner Circle — the regret and remorse evident in the River House. Even though it had been a decade, the evidence of the loss of your light still echoed heavily throughout Pyrthian. Here are how the Inner Circle copes and mourns during the death anniversary.

Note: From this request! Thank you for sending this request and for loving Pushed to the Edge! I do hope this is a bit of extra angst for the ending. It's mostly in Azriel and a bit of Rhysand's POV. We all know that Feyre mourns often the reader's death (since she goes to Day Court during the burial), so I thought it would be good just to mostly focus on Azriel's and a bit of Rhysand's. Also, the meanings of the flowers I placed in the description for Helion’s ceremony for the reader’s death:

Calla - beauty Cattail - peace White Heather - protection Purple Hyacinths - sorrow Ivy - affection White Poppies - Consolation, eternal sleep Tea and dark crimson roses - Mourning and I’ll always remember Sweetpea & Cyclamen - Goodbye, departure Amaryllis - Pride Pink Carnations - I’ll never forget you Iris - Your friendship means so much to me

I hope you all enjoy!

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

His hands shook as they dripped in blood, warm and sticky. Hazel hues followed the trail of blood to a familiar body.

A cry of grief escaped his lips as he crawled over to your body, Truth-Teller piercing through your chest. Your body was unmoving from its prone position. Azriel gently cradled your body in his arms, tears blurring his vision as he looked at your features — one that was etched with so much pain that his heart ached at the sight of it.

“I’m so sorry, my love… I… I’m sorry that I abandoned you, I’m sorry for my infidelity towards you… I’m sorry that I killed you. I’m just… so sorry…” He was sorry for many things. There were too many things he could apologize for but none of them he could whisper to you to bring you back to him. He would have to pay for his transgressions for the rest of his immortal life — the Gods would never give him another chance with her; the Gods would never gift him with another mate as amazing as her.

He was about to press another kiss against your forehead only to watch shadows, his shadows, rise from the ground and slowly start to wrap around your body.

Azriel growled at them, “Leave us alone, leave her with me.. that's all I ask. Don't you fucking dare take her…!”

They didn't listen to him as tendrils of darkness fully wrapped your body before taking your body in whips of shadow. He tried to grab your body before it disappeared but failed.

“No…!!!”

Azriel woke up with a start, chest heaving as he painted, his hand stretched out as if to grab something — your body — from the shadows. His body wracked with a strong shiver, before he slumped against the headboard, a groan escaping his chest as he ran his hand over his face.

Another nightmare.

Every night, for the last decade, he would dream of you — in all different scenarios — ones he would have you in his arms, in bed, sweet and gentle moments; others ( and most of the time ) it was your death, feeling the echo of the mating bond resonate in his chest, watching your body die in his arms, or even watching himself stab you through your heart.

Ever since that fateful day, he has not gotten a decent night’s sleep. Dark circles stained underneath his hazel eyes and those hazel eyes, that used to shine for you, have dullened. Very little things had made him brighten up nowadays — probably the only thing was the birth of his nephew, Nyx. And Nyx has been the only thing that has kept him surviving all these years — along with living with the guilt and pain of your death.

Azriel let out a muffled sob, pressing a hand against his lips as he allowed the nightmare to pass wracks of shivers through his body. Hazel hues shifting from his sweat-stained bed to the large floor-to-ceiling windows, the glow of the full moon beaming down into his room.

He knew he wasn't going to get another wink of sleep tonight. Slipping out of bed, bare feet pressing against the cool wooden floors, he slipped on a simple black tee and sweatpants before stepping out of his room, and down the spiral staircase to the massive garden of the River House.

Azriel usually avoided the gardens, knowing that Elain would be there tending to them.

Their relationship was non-existent at this point. After your death, he cut off all contact and interactions with her, feeling disgusted with himself with even just the sight of her.

For the first couple of months, Elain tried to rebuild her relationship with the Inner Circle; however, after her lies were exposed, it had been a tough road. Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel had ignored her, to the point that Rhysand had ordered Elain to live in the old Townhouse to give comfort to the rest of the family. She would only come to the River House when Feyre would ask her to help tend the gardens. Otherwise, even the Archeron sisters had little contact with the middle sister.

Azriel’s feet led him to a familiar part of the gardens, the only place he would go to that would calm the echo of the empty mating bond in his chest.

After your burial, Feyre sent the image of the statue that Helion had created in your making to the Inner Circle. And in honor of you, Rhysand made one as well — a statue of you, but in Night Court fashion — the opposite of your image in Day Court. Wearing a dark blue dress, one covered with stars, with a moon circlet on your head.

Azriel basked in the statue’s liking to you, seeing the moon’s light radiate behind the statue like a halo made him smile — just a tiny bit. He shifted, sitting down on the bench that was in front of the statue. He leaned forward, pressing his elbows onto his thighs.

“…Hi my love…” he whispered as he looked up at the statue, “Another nightmare… brings me to you.”

A sigh escaped his lips as he felt tears prick the edge of his eyes, and he blinked to fight them away. He has fought so many tears every night, that Azriel felt like his whole body had dried up with how many tears he had shed since your death. He knows he shouldn’t complain, that his grief was evidence that he deserved all the things he had done to you. We all will continue to live with our betrayal. Live and regret, as Rhysand and Cassian told him that day.

Staring back up at the statue, his eyes glanced up at the twinkling stars above Valeris and muttered the singular wish, a wish he had wished for every year, “I hope that at Starfall I will see your light twinkling in the skies above, where you will streak across that beautiful night sky, finding your peace…”

After sitting in front of that statue for several hours, he decided to fly up to the House of Wind to the training balcony and train there. He forgone his black shirt and focused on his training, using every ounce of pain and grieving to train. He stayed up there, time passing quickly until he felt the claws of his brother scrape down his mental shields. Azriel sighed and looked up at the bright blue sky, not even noticing how the day had become midday, the hot sun beating down against his sweaty skin.

“…Azriel…” a light, airy voice called his name.

He let out an animalistic growl before he grabbed his shirt from the chair he had flung it onto, slipping it on his form before spreading his wings to fly. He heard the quickened steps, seeing Elain in his peripherals, the middle Archeron’s sister’s eyes begging at him to look at her.

“…Stay away from me, Elain… I swear to the Gods, if you try to look for me again, I’ll have my High Lord and High Lady dump you on the borders of the human realm to leave you to their discretion…”

Elain frowned at him, stepping into his view, “You cannot put all the blame on me. I have tried to win you and my family’s graces back… I don’t know what I can do to get on your good graces again…”

Azriel glared at the Made-Fae, “… No, I cannot put all the blame on you, I blame mostly myself on falling for you. I never realized why I had after being mated to (Y/N) for nearly fifty years… I could have had my forever with her… And yet, my blind infatuation with you cost us that. I don’t want to do anything with you, as my way to repent… my way to live and regret for the rest of my immortal life without her…”

With one last glare, and without letting the Made-Fae say anything else, Azriel shot off into the mid-day sky, waving through the cool air of Valeris and back to the River House. He landed on the balcony and entered, walking into the large dining room where his family was situated. He noticed the solemn air that coated the room as he sat down in his usual spot, next to Mor and across from Cassian. Hazel eyes wandered the table and noticed the absence of his High Lady.

Rhysand noticed the look from his Spymaster and answered the unasked question, “Feyre went to Day Court this morning…”

That was all it took for realization to hit Azriel — it was your tenth death anniversary this week. A shaky sigh escaped his lips as he leaned back against his chair — ten years without your light. No wonder he felt horrible that day, no wonder why his nightmares seemed to be worse than ever before.

It was as if his subconscious knew.

Azriel knew that after this breakfast, he would be able to crawl back into bed and cry there — he didn’t have to do anything for the rest of that week. He would be able to wallow in his depression in the comfort of his room.

Rhysand, after the first year of your death, had declared that week a period of silence — a mourning period that allowed Valeris and most of Night Court to grieve over your death. To repent and live. It was a week where he didn’t send anyone on missions, and stores throughout Valeris were closed over the week.

The Inner Circle ate in silence, the clattering of silverware was the only thing that echoed in the grand space. No one said a word, though Azriel could feel the shifting gazes towards his way. His fingers gripped the silverware in his hands, feeling the metal bend in his strength. A frown tugged on his features, suddenly losing his appetite. He placed the utensils down, the evidence of his slight anger on the bent pieces of metal, before standing up.

He could see Mor, in his peripheral shift slightly. Azriel huffed slightly, unaware of the looming energy he was radiating until he felt a tap against his mental shields. Hazel eyes looked over to his High Lord who had given him a raised brow.

“Reign in your anger, brother… We are just worried, as usual,” Rhysand had whispered into his head.

They know how hard it has been for him over the past decade. The Inner Circle had been present through every nightmare, every depressive episode, every self-loathing that Azriel had gone through — and is still going through to this day. All of them had tried to help him lessen the burden of regret; however, they knew that the Spymaster would never let anyone shoulder his pain — not when he was the cause of it.

Azriel felt his tears line his reddened eyes, “…I know, and I thank you for that, brother… May I just grieve on my own… May I be excused?”

Hazel and violet eyes stared at each other for a moment before Rhysand nodded his head, “I will tap on your shields again when Feyre is at the ceremony…”

His head nodded before the Spymaster stalked out of the dining room, feeling all eyes on him. He climbed up those spiral staircases again before entering his bedroom with a slam of his door. A shiver wracked through his body, eyes shutting close as he tried to prevent another breakdown. He shuffled his feet, towards the bed and lay there.

He will never be okay — no matter how many decades, how many centuries have passed, he will always feel that emptiness of the bond in his chest. He would never feel you tug on that golden string that connected the two of you, nor he won’t hear your laugh whenever Cassian or Mor would tell you a joke. He won’t feel your fingers trace along his scars or place ointment on his hands whenever they were cramped and strained after a mission.

There were days — which were the worse of them — when he would hallucinate you were still alive. In that very bedroom, he would feel, smell, and see your very figure walking through that room. He could see your light, he could hear your voice… but whenever he would reach out to try to hold you, touch you, you would be gone in a whisp of light.

Azriel hated those days. He would find himself in a heap on the ground, crying. His brothers or even Mor would find him in that state at the end of the day and would plead for him to go to bed and rest. And with their help, he would lay in that large bed, bigger than his wings would span out to, to just stare at the expanses of that ceiling. Rest would never come to him easily anymore, not without a tonic from Madja or if Rhysand would slip into his mind and coax him to sleep.

He would continue to live on as an empty shell — one that would continue life without feeling your light.

Rhysand let out a shaky breath after Azriel had left the dining room, a hand running through his dark locks as he slumped against his chair.

It had been difficult, the last decade was like walking on broken glass around Azriel. The High Lord knew that his brother was suffering, but Rhysand also knew it was the consequences of his actions — of all of their actions against (Y/N). All of them, especially himself and Azriel, would continue to suffer for it.

Rhysand was thankful to the Mother that Feyre had been there throughout the past decade to help shoulder the pain, to shoulder the regret. And he had tried to do the same with Azriel; however, the former Shadowsinger wouldn’t let anyone touch him, wouldn’t let anyone help him through his emotions. And he watched as Azriel broke himself apart because of his pain. The High Lord watched every single day, every year, for the past decade, his brother becoming a shell. Even when he had sent Azriel on missions, the Fae would come back, finishing his assignment quickly and swiftly, though Rhysand could see blood and bruises that contrasted against leather.

Every time, every single time, Azriel had returned from those missions, Rhysand had seen the increased amount of wounds against immortal skin. And when confronted, Azriel had whispered in truth, “It’s the only time I feel pain… To feel the echo of the pain against my skin… Any other time, I can’t feel anything…”

That had broken the High Lord.

He had banned, much to his dismay and Azriel’s anger, the former Spymaster to go on said missions. He had changed Azriel’s title, and became an emissary, along with Mor to the Continent. Azriel hated him — and probably still hated him to this day. But it was the only way to keep his brother from hurting himself, from being hurt, and to keep his family together — as much as possible.

The High Lord stood up from his chair, giving a small smile to his family as he left the dining room and walked his way to his office, allowing the silence to seep into his body. Rhysand busied himself with work, the only thing that would occupy his time and mind during the week of mourning. If he didn’t, he would, like his brother, be stuck in his mind — in his nightmares — of failing you as your High Lord.

He felt a tap of his mental shields, his mate scraping and sending down a wave of love towards his end.

"Are you okay?” Feyre asked him and Rhysand leaned against his chair and allowed his mate to send visions of her time at Day Court.

“I think so… Just, trying to keep myself occupied you know. How is it at Day? How is Helion?”

“He’s probably the same as you and Azriel.. all of us, mourning. But he’s keeping up appearances, he is ensuring this year’s ceremony will be grand. It is her tenth year being gone from this world…”

Rhysand wouldn’t hold it against Helion if this ceremony would be a grand, beautiful one to celebrate your life… to mourn for your death. You had, after all, deserved it. You had risked your life, your light, to protect all of Prythian… you had to be celebrated one way or another.

He watched the vision of the grand Day Court halls, lined with Calla, Cattail, White Heather, Purple Hyacinths, Ivy, White Poppies, and Tea and dark crimson roses — all flowers that echoed the sentiments of all of Prythian. It was a gorgeous sight, one that Rhysand wished to see in person. Tears pricked his eyes as he wiped them away with a finger, as he felt another wave of support from his mate.

"Be safe, darling Feyre… If you need me to take Nyx, do just call me… I can take him from your hands…"

A small laugh echoed, and in his head he could see the image of Nyx standing next to his mother, looking up at the golden statue of you.

"I think he deserves to know who she is, Rhys… He will be fine…"

With one last tug on that bond, Rhysand closed the connection between the two of them.

A book, he had thought, a book would be good to immortalize your story. With ink and paper, he started to write… determined to ensure your story would be known for centuries to come.

A tap against his shields started Azriel from his stupor. He straightened in the armchair he had occupied in his bedroom, eyes darting to the window to see what time of day it was. He hadn’t slept for the past few days, his nightmares plaguing him even while awake. He would mindlessly walk around that room, keeping himself occupied to keep the nightmares at bay. He didn’t sleep, he hadn’t showered — he wallowed in his sadness.

And so when that scrape of darkness against his mind startled him out of his sadness, he lowered it slightly to allow his High Lord to send him the vision that his High Lady was sending him.

Tears pricked at the edge of his eyes as he saw that magnificent statue of you at your grave.

Oh, how he wished and begged for the Mother to allow him, even for a brief moment, to bask in that golden statue — to feel Day Court’s sun mimic the warmth that you had always radiated.

He watched from that armchair the ceremony, hearing Helion speak so fondly of you. Azriel could hear the High Lord’s voice crack and break at every mention of your name. He could see the pain in his features as he talked about how it had been ten years since your death. He watched as Helion looked at that statue with so much fondness — a father, mourning the loss of his child.

The ceremony lasted a couple of hours, allowing people to walk up to the statue to place all types of flowers on top of that gravesite. He watched as the familiar hands of his High lady held up a bouquet — a mixture of Sweetpea, Amaryllis, Pink Carnations, Cyclamen, and Iris — to the statue before placing it down on the grave as well.

He heard her whisper words of fondness, love, and regret before stepping away and back to her spot in the crowd.

The last thing he heard, was from his nephew, who whispered to his mother, “I wish to have known her… She is well loved, even after she has died…”

That had choked not only Azriel up, but he could feel the pain in Feyre’s voice as she looked down at the boy who was merely ten years into his immortal life.

“…I wish you could have known her as well, Nyx… She was a light in everyone’s life. She had made your uncle’s life the best it had been when she was still with us. We wish we could have done so much better to her…”

Azriel watched as Feyre caressed the black locks of his nephew before the vision passed. And all Azriel could do was cry — cry his love, his sorrow, his regret.

[cherigu]

— ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Lessons!

Genre: smut, best friends / roommates to lovers Pairing: sub!jeongguk x softdom!reader Word Count: 2.3k Warnings: low-key fuckgirl!reader, inexperienced!jk, mutual pining, choking, corruption kink, voyeurism, mutual masturbation

⊹₊┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ୨୧ㆍ┈ㆍ┈ㆍ┈₊⊹

“So you want me to tell you how to..” you trailed off while still trying to process the question that was asked not even a minute ago. “How to finger someone, yes” Jeongguk mumbled, suddenly ashamed at the scandalous question. He began to fumble with the long sleeves of his white shirt, nervously speaking up again to ease the tension. “I mean.. Y-you don’t have to of course! Not if it makes you uncomfortable, y’know? Just found it easy to ask you.”

The thing is, you had no issue teaching him. He was your best friend and roommate so naturally he’d heard it all. You were pretty open about everything, including your sex life. You weren’t one to have shame in your game, especially with how many stories there were to tell. Ranging from one-night stands that had you drier than the Sahara desert, to hookups that left you seeing stars. Jeongguk was okay with this, never feeling uncomfortable with the taboo subject. You still decided to maintain boundaries, making sure to never bring anyone home.

Out of respect for Jeongguk and his precious sleep, you strictly fucked at the other person’s place, with no exceptions. Strangely enough, you stuck by this rule even when Jeongguk wasn’t home. The whole idea of another man entering your and Jeongguk’s space just felt odd to you. Part of you knew why, but that bit of information would be stored far in the back of your mind. Maybe if you were in denial for long enough you’d finally get rid of the feelings you had for Jeongguk.

It sounds hypocritical to go on rambling about how many men you’ve fucked and then admit that you have a crush on your best friend, but who could blame you? He was so mesmerizing, the way his hair had grown out to frame his face beautifully, big brown eyes that glittered even in the darkest settings, matching the glint of the piercing on his lip. Speaking of which, his pretty pink lips were hard to not stare at while he talked, almost as if they were begging you to kiss them. You could go on but you’d never stop. If you would ever fuck anyone in your apartment, it’d have to be him 100%.

You knew this wasn’t an option though, you couldn’t risk over 10 years of friendship just because your pussy got wet with something as simple as him readjusting his glasses. Perhaps the casual one-night stands were your way of suppressing what you felt for him. But how successful could this coping mechanism really be if you found yourself imagining it was Jeongguk inside of you instead of a random man?

“I don’t mind, but can’t you just watch porn or something?” You cocked a brow, watching his cheeks suddenly grow pink. 

“I dont.. I’ve never watched it..” He dropped his head as if it were something he should’ve been ashamed of.

There was another reason his bold request had caught you off guard. Jeongguk was a virgin, making hookups fall out of the question. This suddenly made your chest bubble in jealousy as you wondered what he could possibly need fingering lessons for, or much rather for who. He didn’t have a girlfriend, but that was only as far as you knew. You were sure he’d tell you if he was seeing someone, right?  

“Why do you need to learn?” Your eyes redirect elsewhere, afraid of your shallow gaze letting him know you were slightly mad at the thought of him pleasuring someone else. His, however, were glued onto your face as he threw his hands up.

“Why so many questions n/n? ‘m just embarrassed.. feel like I should know this stuff at my age” He pouted. 

Feeling relief from the fact that there wasn’t someone else involved, you spoke to Jeongguk as his best friend again.

“Gukkie, you know there’s no pressure in becoming sexually active y’know? This stuff comes naturally, some quicker than others, but there’s no definite age at which you should learn this stuff.” You raised your hand to pat his head. "Learn it 'cause you want to and not because you feel like you should know it"

If Jeongguk were being honest, he had only exposed half of his truth to you. Sure, he can admit that he's a bit inexperienced for his age, but he had a reason. That reason being you. Ever since the day he met you, he swore he’d never met anyone else more perfect than you. You were so gentle with him, from the times you bandaged his knee after scraping it on the pavement as a kid, to the time you held him while he fake-cried about his ex-girlfriend cheating on him.

It’s not like he loved Jieun very much anyway, he’d only dated her as a poor attempt to get over you. Seeing as it had clearly not worked, the only option he had was to convince himself, and everyone else, that he had been truly in love with Jieun. So as soon as he heard that she’d hooked up with her dorm mate, he put on his best act and cried endlessly. Apart from doing it to seal the deal about Jieun, he had also secretly enjoyed being in your arms that whole time you comforted him. He strained his body to release every tear he could for the sake of staying as long as he could in your embrace.

Ever since then, he couldn’t muster up the courage to date again. You had ruined his life in the best and worst way possible. Yeah, he was a 23-year-old virgin who never had a legit girlfriend to gain experience with, but he was also Jeon Jeongguk who got coddled by his best friend every chance she got because she loved him very much. He knew you loved him, but maybe not in the way that he loved you.

He was no match for the men that ripped the moans out of your mouth at night while you desperately clutched the sheets, begging for release. He had to learn how to surpass them one way or another, and for that, he’d need to start from the root. He couldn’t learn from porn, no, those girls weren’t you. If he asked you directly how to pleasure someone, you’d subconsciously speak about how you prefer to be pleasured and to learn that was his goal. 

Sitting face to face with you, hand on his cheek, he couldn’t help but feel warm inside. His gaze dropped to your cherry-glossed lips, harshly gulping while resisting the urge to kiss you.

This didn’t go unnoticed by you, beginning to smirk at how obvious the boy in front of you was being at this very moment.

“Or how about..” your fingers caressed his cheek, slowly beginning to drop to his neck. “Instead of teaching you, I show you, hm?” you whispered, carefully testing the waters while slightly confused as to where the confidence came from, swearing you wouldn’t ruin the friendship only a few minutes ago.

The doubt in your mind was quick to subside when Jeongguk began to nod his head. The grip your hand had on the sides of his neck slightly tightened, whines already beginning to slip past his lips. His sounds alone made your imagination go wild, loving how sensitive and reactive he was to your touch. You couldn’t wait to see how fast he would get riled up, leaving you to enjoy every last bit of his neediness. The thought of being able to turn your sweet, innocent boy into a fucked out mess had arousal leaking into your underwear. 

“Sit here, m’kay? No touching, just watch, can you do that for me?” your body moved away from his, positioning yourself against the headboard with your legs in his direction. He hummed a quiet, “yes” and you smiled, “Good, good boy” Your legs began to part, exposing the wet patch in your white panties that his oversized tee previously concealed. Your delicate fingers traveled to your thighs, inching closer to your heat with slow movements. “Gotta feel her up first”

Four teasing fingers became two as your hand finally left your thigh and reached your clothed cunt. Your middle and ring fingers rubbed small circles in the middle, making sure to spread the arousal and collect new slick. Once the material became soaked and sticky enough, you began to slide the panties down your legs, fully exposing yourself to the wide-eyed boy in front of you.

“Like what you see?” 

Jeongguk didn’t even need to answer the question, his erect cock did all the talking for him. The grey sweatpants he wore only emphasized the size of his bulge, noticeably growing painfully hard. His tip began to throb at the sight of your two digits parting your lips, showing how wet you were.

“Rub slowly, like this” you demonstrated, sliding your fingers up and down your glistening cunt, “Never fast, unless she’s close. This isn’t a competition on how fast she can cum, take your time and focus on pleasing her.” your voice wavered towards the end as your lower body began to grow more sensitive by the second. Your eyes looked up at Jeongguk who frantically nodded, making sure to take mental notes despite the aching length inside of his pants. 

“Here’s the cli- mmm, t-the clit.” a moan escaped your mouth after your hand had traveled up to stimulate the perky nub. Heat began to build up in your stomach, letting you know that this lesson would soon turn into you focusing on your climax. 

“Can cum like this, or by touching down here, ah fuck” you whined, feeling the familiar stretch of your fingers entering your hole. Slowly pumping in, you tried to stay collected. Jeongguk needed your help, and you would provide it by all means necessary. That didn’t mean it wasn’t becoming increasingly hard for the both of you to not break, though. “D-don’t just ngh go in and out hmm, curl your f-fingers too, yea?”

Jeongguk was doing everything in his power to not lunge at you. His brain was going numb at the sight of your head thrown back, bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you struggled to swallow back your needy moans, doing everything you could to continue talking Jeongguk through the process. He was desperate for any sort of contact at this point, a hand immediately flying to cup his cock. Giving it a short squeeze, he began to softly palm it. Sitting at the foot of the bed, he felt so close to you yet so far. The squelching sound of your fingers pounding in and out of your pussy had him leaking enough pre-cum to make a patch of his grey sweatpants grow dark.

So caught up in your own pleasure, you had forgotten about the boy in front of you. His whimper was enough to make your eyes shoot open. Before you stood a desperate Jeongguk, tears welling up in his eyes due to the pain of the erection that wouldn’t stop growing impossibly harder. He was rutting against his hand, feeling so hot that his bangs were now stuck to the thin sheet of sweat forming on his forehead. You hummed at the sight, causing his rosy pink face to rise up. “Take off your pants, baby” you barely breathed out, more fucked out from your fingers than usual. 

Jeongguk wasted no time in stripping his lower half, excited cock hitting his lower abdomen with a slight smacking sound as he sat there waiting for your next instruction. Your head flew back again as your fingers uncontrollably quickened their pace at the sight of Jeongguk’s big, pretty cock. You regained enough composure to slow down your movements, not wanting to cum just yet. A free hand reached out to your side, grabbing at the sticky lace panties before throwing them at Jeongguk. “Touch yourself with them,” you ordered.

Jeongguk swore he could come from your words alone. His mind stuttered, already feeling so pussy-drunk despite not having touched it yet. He snapped back with the pain that shot through his eager cock, needing release. He grabbed your panties and quickly wrapped them around his cock. Moans flew out of his mouth as he slid the wet material up and down his cock. Pleasure fogged his mind causing everything around him to become a blur. 

You were quick to catch up with Jeongguk’s pace, drawing your curled fingers in and out of your gushing pussy as they grazed your g-spot. This was all overwhelming, a good overwhelming. On one hand, you had your shy boy with his cock out, desperately tugging at it and shamelessly jerking himself off in front of you. On the other hand, the coil in your stomach felt so close to bursting with the delicious pleasure your fingers offered you, leaving you wondering how Jeongguk’s would feel after the lesson. 

The boy was delirious, babbling an incoherent mix of curses as well as your name due to the scent of your sweet essence mixing with his own. His balls tightened, a sign that he was close until a whiny voice spoke out. “Cum with me baby, so c-close” You stared at his hooded eyes through your own. 

“Don’t know if I can” he cried.

“Wanna be good for me? Don’t cum til I say so, yea?”

He nodded frantically, his movements were becoming sloppy but he was determined to show you how obedient he could be. The only sounds that echoed through the room were those of skin slapping against each other with a mix of needy whines. That soon changed when your voice filled the room, giving him permission to cum as you reached your own orgasm. The both of you felt as if you had transcended into a different universe, seeing nothing but stars and feeling euphoria flow through your veins. The high was never-ending, white stripes shooting into the soiled panties while cum dripped down your entire hand.  Your spent bodies laid on the bed momentarily, shortly before wasting no time cleaning up in order to tangle your bodies together.

 Masturbation had never felt so heavenly.

A/N: omg this was literally written with no plan whatsoever i had to do some serious improv😭 kinda rushed the end because i typed this up with plans of sleeping at 12am but it is now close to 2am and my mind is a lil foggy >.< anyways hope u liked !! don't forget to leave feedback or requests<3

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Anything You Need (Supernatural One-Shot)

Dean Winchester x Sam Winchester x GN!Reader (no Wincest) / requests are open

Summary: The boys discover you've been having some... unpleasant thoughts.

Fic type: emotional hurt/comfort

Potential Triggers: mentions of suicidal thoughts and regret over not having perished to the MOTW

SPN: @wereallbrokenangels (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Not that many things made you cry these days. You'd seen some shit, that's for sure. Mothers pinned to the ceiling in flames, vampires being beheaded, babies crying out for family members that wouldn't come home- and spirits that cried out for company and whose sadness waded through towns like thick, boggy, slimy water.

None of that made you cry.

Almost having the sweet release of death and having it ripped from you by your partners in (quite literal) crime, however? That. That made you cry.

The boys, they chalked it up to you having a near-death experience and copping a few new badass scars in the process. They thought it was shock at first. And it probably was. At first.

But the hours ticked by and you were ushered back into the safety of the Impala and, well, the shock wore off. You'd almost died. You would have been grateful for it, to be quite honest, but no. They took that away.

"Come on, sweetheart," Dean said, leaning over the back of the front seat to look at you, curled up and watching the window with a fairly dead-inside expression on your face. "You can't still be upset. We almost die every damn week- so tell us what's up, huh?"

Your eyes shifted from the window to the door handle. If you pulled it you'd fall out onto the road and get flattened like a pancake by that semi crawling up the Impala's ass.

"I'm fine," you replied thickly, not making eye contact.

"All due respect but that's a load of crap," Dean said, scoffing to himself. You could see Sam watching you in the rearview mirror as he drove along the highway. He knew something serious was up. It was only a matter of time before he pulled over and sat you down for a big long chat about your feelings.

"All due respect but I don't care," you replied back before the words had registered in your head. You regretted them as soon as they left your mouth and the clenching of his jaw and flash of hurt in his eyes as he looked to his brother for help just lodged that heavy stone of guilt further into your gut.

"Sorry. I'm- I've not been myself lately," you sighed, not wanting to get into this but not feeling as though you had much of a choice now. "You-you ever just... wanna die? Like, not actually die, but you just feel like it sometimes?"

Dean was quiet, looking at your knee as he processed the words. Sam's eyes flicked to yours in the mirror again.

"Yeah, I've felt that before," Sam said after a beat, avoiding his brother's piercing stare. "I get why you didn't, but you could have told us."

You dropped your head onto the car door, huffing out a grunt because to be honest- that was all you could muster right now.

"Fuck, I didn't know I was living with the Downers' Club," Dean said, scratching at the back of his head. He didn't mean anything by it, of course. Humour was his coping mechanism. He was quiet for another moment. "Shit, I- you know I'm not good with the whole words thing. Hang on-"

Then Dean set down his father's notebook and clambered over the back of the seat, landing unceremoniously next to you with a grunt, mumbling something about mud on the leather.

"Wh-Dean-" you said, moving to make room for him. He just shushed you, set his feet down in the footwell and turned you around so your head was in his lap. You looked up at him, melting into his touch. He put one hand under your head, bracing you and making sure you didn't get a neck-ache, and with the other, caressed your hair, massaging at the scalp.

"No good with words but I'll be damned if I don't know how to play with someone's hair. Sammy used to love it when he was a kid. Used to get these nightmares 'n nothin' would calm him except me touchin' his head. Little weirdo. Got damn good at it, though."

You snorted, but you couldn't deny the magic he was weaving with your nerves, untangling them and braiding them back together. You felt your muscles slowly start to un-tense, and your eyes drift closed with pleasure.

"We're always here for you, darlin'," Sammy said, reaching a hand back and over the seat to brush your cheek comfortingly. It looked like an awkward angle, and it was gone a moment later, back on the wheel.

"Absolutely," Dean said reverently, looking down at you with so much love in his eyes that you could feel it warming you up from the inside even with your own eyes closed. "Anything you need."

[tang3r1n]

still on my shitty dabi kick and i think i struck a chord with @mostlyheinous so here’s random ass shit i think a deadbeat bf dabi would do

18+, hard dubcon, gaslighting, manipulation, smoking, forced drinking/taking of drugs, dabi purposely makes you have a bad trip on acid, unprotected sex, anal (referenced plus a thumb in the stink) i’ll add more idfk

kay first off, along the smoke vein, dabi would absolutely threaten to put his cigarettes/blunts out on you if you keep crying (openly, he loves watching you cry all quiet n sniffly)

he’s also no doubt changed you around the apartment with bugs/gross shit just to make you squeal and beg him to put it away

“baby it’s jus’lil beetle~” while waving a fucking 4in long roach he found outside in your face, “gimmie a big, sloppy kiss and i might throw Jeffrey away, as much as it pains me to.”

constantly making you exchange physical/sexual acts for practically basic respect

“show me your pretty tits and i’ll let you go hang with those stupid cunts— no i’m not gonna stop callin’em that, they’re dumb cunts.”

loves making you suck him off right after work, still all musky from the day, his cock even more salty from sweating all day (scent/smell kink is my fav im SORRY.) plugging your nose and jutting his hips out harshly to make you gag and cough around his cock, the sinfully wet noise making him groan out a chuckle as he watched you cringe

any and all attempts to change his behavior end with gaslighting and fake hurt plastered on his face as he breaks your fucking back in bed

“ungh- you’re such a fucking good girl f’me.. i love your, pretty, im so sorry you feel the need to accuse me of such things- god squeeze my dick like that again, fuck yeah- i..uh- gonna make you cum so hard, show y’how this noisy cunt ‘sall mine..”

steals your panties and jacks off with them right fucking in front of you, dick swinging and balls out as he strikes himself with your panties pressed against his face. his bright ass blue eyes piercing into you while he noisily huffs in the smell of your pussy and licks up the crotch of them like the perverted degenerate he is

oh and when you try to break it off, setting him down to explain that he is just..too much.. for you, he goes ballistic.

grabbing you by the hair and dragging you to the bedroom, placing you down still surprisingly softly as he ferociously tears off your clothes and starts eating you out like his life depend on it (idk to him it might, he’s a loser)

once he’s got you all whiny and soft after a few mind-shattering orgasms, he’ll start coping and trying to slip you back into the haze of his glaringly obvious manipulative love

“don’t say stupid fucking shit, pretty, jus’cuz y’on your period or what-the-fuck-ever is going on in that lil head don’t mean you can treat me like this.”

hell chastise you while he fingers you, fingers blurred as he finger-fucks you dizzy, fishing his cock outta his dirty jeans and scoffing as you whine and cry again, shuffling up the bed

he pulls you in again by your ankles, a scarred hand quickly silencing you as it softly pressed against your throat, a silent threat, as he spoke patronizing words to your sex and lust filled mind,

“just be my good angel one more time, pretty,” he forces a crack in his voice, flexing his throat so he sounds tearful and sad, “i just..i love you s’much, wanna show my pretty girl, my everything, how much she means t’me,”

the second you nod he’s grinning manically and flipping you over, forcing his cock into your wet cunt and rabidly humping against your ass, dick barely leaving and inch before pumping right back in as deep as it’d fit.

he’d spit on your other puckered lil hole, making your cry and squirm yet again as he pushes his thumb against it, gut burning with lust and a perverted sense of affection

“no- nononono angel- calm it down, i jus’wanna feel your cute ass ‘round me, promise it’ll just be my thumb— yes pretty i pinky promise

(he ends up cumming in your ass i don’t make the rules mb)

other than failed breakups and gaslighting, dabi also likes getting his pretty wasted

like… really wasted.

dabi’ll give you shit after shot, even making you sit pretty for him while he spits Jack Daniels into your awaiting mouth

he spikes literally all drinks he makes you and it’s so obvious but he just tells you it’s to ‘loosen your bitchy ass up,’ but in his own special, joking tone.

cut to you blowing cum bubbles while you suck him off, completely drunk, head dizzy and body fuzzy as he records you almost mindlessly salivating over him.

“say hi to Shigaraki f’me, pretty, little bastard is gonna love seeing you all horned up and slutty~”

he also shotguns his blunt/pipe/bong hits to you—never lets you hit in your own

dabi loves it if you sit on his lap during this too, a rare domestic scene of you both just vibing and grinding, soft praises and touches that feel unreal coming from him

the he ruins it by slapping your ass and making you cook him dinner

wait i had a funny idea hold on

“babe can we please go see my momma today— it’s just that it’s m’birthday and you made me skip it last year..”

“pretty, that bitch hates my ass, why would we go see someone who hates us?” (notice he says ‘us’ anyways)

[cut to momma glaring at dabi the entire time they’re over and throwing shoes at him once he opens his fucking mouth]

kay that’s all for now ig

wait

sometimes when you’re falling asleep you can hear him obsessively rambling and mumbling abt how much he loves you, how disgusting everyone else alive is, how he’d kill anyone who dared talk to-LOOK at you, how he thinks you’re such a soft, beautiful little thing that he just wants to protect but oh how he fucking loves ruining your angel wings.