#it’s collapsing in my hands all the time

[poisonf0rest]

The Best Dreams Come in Threes

♱⋅── rafayel x reader x xavier

♱⋅── about: Rafayel and Xavier have always been there for you. One is your fire, your passion, the twin flame to your temper. The other is your light, a guiding beacon, your twin star. So when you have a nightmare, they take it upon themselves to comfort and remind you of their unconditional devotion. Even if it does lead to competition every now and then.

♱⋅── word count: 7.5k (mf...)

♱⋅── warnings: mdni, smut, it's just nasty, threesome, jealousy, somnophilia, oral, pussydrunk boys, breeding kink, double penetration, slight spoilers

♱⋅── a/n: apologies to the two random strangers on the plane that I sat next to when the idea of this fic possessed me. I really, really hope you didn't read anything I was frantically writing down in the midst of me finishing my work report cause that shit was nasty.

art credit and inspiration due to the wonderful @/sakimenz

Lonely star, who do you shine for?

The weight of all your pasts- of all your futures- the guilt and pride you carry will only cause you to collapse, and all that will be left will be an all-consuming black hole. 

Your desperation won’t bring your sun back. 

Lonely king, don’t you know a kingdom devoid of life is a crown devoid of purpose?

You were the fire that left them, and all you have to show for the betrayal is a drowned memory and a heart wrenched from your chest, a broken promise and a forgotten story. 

You’ve changed with each lifetime, but you’ll forever be at the mercy of fate. 

And you? You’re the very curse that haunts them. 

Claws, so cold they burn, emerge from the darkness before piercing through flesh, tearing through muscle and bone as they dig into your ribcage, dragging you down into the shadows. Drowning, falling. You’re spiraling through lifetimes of failure, lifetimes of pain both your own and not, all while the claws dig closer and closer to your heart, clutching the muscle like a songbird in a cage. 

It’s the price, the price you must pay for all this pain you’ve caused, for dooming a star and killing a god. 

The clawed hand wraps around your heart, the piercing into the fluttering pulse faster and faster until—

You wake up crying. 

A hot trail of tears slides into the pillows, and a sniffle rakes through your body, the sudden movement causing a subtle disturbance to the two forms still sound asleep on either side of you. 

Funny, you can’t remember a thing, but there’s a painful throb in your chest. You’ll take another dose of your heart medicine in the morning. 

But for now, your bedroom is still dulled by the pale blue moonlight filtering through the curtains, and you’re in no hurry to get out of the warm covers and their embrace. 

The nightmares have become routine at this point. You never remember what they are, but you wake up with a sense of fear and dread, as though you can feel the pain all over again. It’s best not to think too much about it.

Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes, you inhale shakily one last time, trying to shake off the looming feeling when the arm around your waist shifts, tugging lightly at your loose sleep shirt before slipping under to massage the skin beneath. You let out a soft sigh, a light shudder going through your body as the gentle hands work away the tension.

“The same?” Rafayel’s words are slurred with sleep and concern, hot breath dancing along the crook of your neck as he props himself up on his elbow. You nod.

Rafayel makes a small, displeased noise before his other arm pulls you closer, his bare chest now flush against your back. The sudden movement forces Xavier, who was once tucked against your shoulder, further away, grumbling at the loss even in his sleep.

His face scrunches, brows furrowed together before the corners of his lips turn downward, and he blindly reaches for you. He eventually finds the curve of your waist, and his hand tightens on the fabric of your shirt as it slides in above Rafayel’s.

A huff, and Xavier buries his face back into your chest, his warm breath tickling you. And then, gentle snores— you should've known better than to think that would be enough to wake him.

Rafayel, still pressed firmly against your back, begins to move, propping his body up just enough to look you in the eyes as he wipes a stray tear from your cheek. "Wanna talk about it, cutie?"

“I… I think you were there, both of you. But it felt lonely, painful.”

Rafayel's face contorts into a worried expression, his hand moves down your cheek, cupping your jaw, and you lean into his warm caress with a sigh.

You place a kiss on his palm. "It's okay, just a scary dream. Nothing real. Nothing to worry about." You repeat it, more to yourself than Rafayel, but his arms wrap around you anyway.

And yet Rafayel looks at you with a deep furrow in his brow, a seriousness you’ve almost never seen on him.

You give him a questioning look, but his lips press to yours in a searing kiss, stealing the air from your lungs. He pulls away only for a second, whispering sweet nothings against your skin before returning his lips to yours, the hand cradling your face slipping down to rest on your hip.

He kisses you softly, gently. First pressing a trail of light, chaste kisses along your jaw, the corners of your mouth, and nose, then moving back to your lips. “We’ll never leave you. We’d tear through every universe, every destiny to get back to you.”

Strange, how Rafayel says it with all the reverence of a vow. 

You want to tease him for the sudden declaration, for making all this fuss over a stupid dream, but you never have the opportunity, not when Rafayel's signature smirk settles back onto his lips. 

His hand slides down to your thighs, fingers teasing around the band of your sleep shorts, toying, pressing, but never crossing the self-imposed boundary of your clothes. “Unless, you’d prefer it if I proved it to you?”

“Rafayel,” you warn, hoping your narrowed glare would dissuade him.

Of course the man only seems to take that as a challenge, smile widening as you flinch at the cold touch creeping under your shirt. One palm traces up your ribcage, long, nimble fingers rubbing circles against your skin until he brushes the underside of your breast. 

You shudder, hissing out another string of curses before turning around so your back is to Rafayel. 

Really, you should know better than to think that alone would be enough, and a hot trail of kisses now joins his wandering hands down your shoulder blade. They start innocent enough, sweet, lingering touches along the hem of your shirt, but that quickly changes when Rafayel’s arm under your shirt practically yanks it up, sucking wet, messy kisses into the bare curves of your chest.

Each nip against your sensitive flesh forces the possibility of sleep further and further away, and you resort to distracting yourself with the motionless silhouette of Xavier. Petting through his hair, your rhythm is jolted every time Rafayel decides to leave a mark, nails pulling through Xavier’s locks as you bite your lip on a moan.

You don't miss the curve of his smirk against your skin, and the next kiss is accompanied by a bite, hard enough to elicit a sharp gasp that stirs Xavier. Tense, you scan the blonde's face, but he's nothing if not a heavy sleeper, and he nuzzles further into your touch, still unconscious as his head tucks under yours.

You don't get to sigh in relief. Instead, a whine builds in your throat, the wet heat of Rafayel's teeth tugging on the strap of your underwear as he fists your sleep shorts down.

"Rafayel, stop it,” you hiss as his hot breath hits the already embarrassingly damp center of your underwear.

His smile grows, lips brushing against your clothed core as he tilts his head. “Hmm? But you don’t sound like you want me to stop. And she certainly doesn’t sound like it either.” Two fingers dip under the band, and he parts your cunt with a lewd click.

Your face flushes in embarrassment, refusing to acknowledge just how easily your body gives in to them. One hand leaves Xavier, roughly fisting into Rafayel’s curls as he groans from the sharp pressure. “That’s because you and Xavier refused to wear protection!” 

The accusation earns a hushed laugh, his shoulders shaking against the insides of your thighs. It would have been innocent, the same contagious sort of smile gracing Rafayel’s face, if not the shadows cast across his face in the dark, teeth gleaming like fangs as he traces his tongue up the entire length of your clothed cunt. 

"M’sorry, we thought you'd enjoy the mess," he says, words muffled over your thighs, nose practically buried in between. "How can I make it up to you, cutie?”

You don’t get a chance to respond, not when Rafayel’s tongue dives into your clothed cunt, moaning against the soaked fabric as you gasp and force him closer by his hair. To muffle his sounds, you tell yourself. A pathetic lie considering how much louder he gets now, nose grinding up against your clit as his tongue tries to press into your fluttering cunt even with the barrier of cloth in between. 

God, he’s addicted, and it doesn’t take long until Rafayel’s spit and your slick soak through your underwear, the near-translucent fabric sticking to your lips as the bare minimum friction nearly drives you insane. 

“Say it,” Rafayel whines, nuzzling his face against your inner thigh. “Please, just tell me how badly you want me. Tell me, and I’ll do anything you ask.”

Like he wouldn’t already.

But how could you ever deny him when he begs so sweetly? 

Your palm cups his face, watching his near-wrecked expression and flushed skin tremble beneath your fingers.  “I’m yours, Rafayel.”

And the fabric is ripped into pieces. 

Refusing to even breathe, Rafayel places an opened-mouth kiss on your cunt, lapping up your slick with the most satisfied moan. He doesn't waste any time, not while your confession coated his mind with the sweetest type of intoxication, eating you out like he was depraved.

He might as well have been with how he moans, hips grinding desperately against the edge of the mattress, his not-entirely human tongue curling in and out of you as it writhes with terrifying accuracy against your walls.

It feels too good to be ashamed of the noises you make, gasping and crying out until you slam your palm over your mouth, biting down hard as the other claws into Rafayel’s hair. You can barely control yourself, half fighting to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure, half rocking your hips up and down his face as you jerk him closer. 

“Mhm, greedy.” Fucked-out, broken little grunts leave his throat before his words are muffled into your cunt, not baring to part for even a breath. “Pull on it, please. Harder.” 

You tug Rafayel’s hair almost in vengeance when he purposefully kisses away from where you need him most, licking and sucking obscenely into your thighs just to hear your frustrated cries even over your hand. 

He loved being used like this, so long as it was you. 

So long as it was him that turned you into such a beautiful, pathetic mess. 

It's not long until Rafayel pulls you close to the edge, nose pressing against your clit while thrusting his tongue into you, eyes rolling back from the taste and from the thought of your tight heat fluttering around his cock instead. 

And then, he stops, pulling away and leaving you gasping into the tear-stained pillow.

You bite back a sob, releasing only a choked little noise that has Rafayel's eyes flicking up to your face, the soft, concerned look in his eyes melting into something far more dangerous.

With viciously dilated pupils and your slick dripping from his mouth, Rafayel stares you down as every inch the dangerous siren the legends claimed him to be. He smiles, tongue raking over his teeth as though he couldn’t get enough of your taste, and you swear you’d let him eat your heart and soul. Gods, you’d let him eat you whole. 

You realize you must have made a sound, because Rafayel hushes you, pressing quick kisses to your knee. "Aw, what happened to being quiet? Aren't you afraid we'll wake the poor sleeping bunny?" 

At the mention of your other partner, you turn to where Xavier’s nuzzling his face further into your side, each warm breath damp against your feverish skin, still lost to the realm of dreams.

Not that Rafayel allows your attention to turn away from himself for too long. 

He leans over Xavier, the hand that wasn’t supporting his weight cupping your face, and his lips are crashing into yours with all the viciousness of a summer seastorm. Your lips part, and Rafeyel fucks his tongue into your mouth the same he did your pussy, wet and desperate, the taste of yourself enough to make you dizzy. 

"Tell me,” Rafayel’s tone dips into something darker, kissing down your throat and stomach as he eyes Xavier. “Who’s the better lover?" 

Xavier's fingers flex, the tips brushing against the curve of your breast as he sleeps, and Rafayel's smile is almost predatory.

"D-don't ask stupid questions you dumb fish," your voice cracks as Rafayel's mouth ghosts over your cunt, teeth bared to your thigh, threatening to bite. "I chose you both."

The confession, as expected, doesn't please him. If anything, he seems overly offended, pouting and huffing a cold breath of air right against your aching core. The chill makes you squirm, trying to force him back to your center with the grip you have on his hair.

"No. Nope. That's not an answer."

"Raf–"

His name breaks off in a moan, sound ripped from your throat as Rafayel's thumb starts rubbing firm circles around your neglected clit. He doesn't relent, the pressure too much, too quick, your body already trembling from the pleasure Rafayel knows how to torture you with.

Only, it seems that all your sudden noise and movement have finally begun to affect Xavier. Not enough to wake him, but enough that you can hear his breathing become heavier, following your every twitch and buck from Rafayel’s onslaught as his body begins to grind into yours.

Mumbling into your neck, Xavier’s hand tightens around your waist before slipping under your shirt to palm your breasts, squeezing and kneading until the touch has you keening.

Xavier's still fast asleep, nonsensical words slurred against your skin, and yet his body is now far from it. His erection is thick and heavy against your hips, grinding desperately into your warmth almost in time to Rafayel’s ministrations, whimpering under his breath with every forceful thrust. 

Rafayel notices too, his gaze drifting up to the blond. You can't see his face, already busied between your legs once more, but a pleased hum vibrates through his entire body, fingers finally slipping into your cunt as he curls them just right, your back arching off the sheets with a silent scream. 

Xavier whines at your sudden thrashing, tugging you closer and unknowingly forcing you immobile and at complete mercy to Rafayel’s unfairly skilled fingers. "Mhm, so warm. Please, m’want to..." Another needy, slow grind against you follows his sleepy request. 

"Rafayel," you choke out a muffled plea, but his eyes only narrow, taking a breath as his free hand grabs at Xavier's ass, the touch just light enough to tease and make him rut harder against you.

"What is it, cutie? Don't pretend like you don't want more, not when your pretty pussy's drooling for his cock. She’s so needy, am I not enough?”

Rafayel rests his head on the inside of your thigh, fingers thrusting roughly into that sweet spongy spot inside you just as his other hand wraps around the base of Xavier's cock through his boxers, thumbing over the pre-cum staining the dark fabric. 

You're forced to bite down on the pillow beneath your head to stop the desperate cry tearing itself out of your throat. "This isn’t- ah- isn’t right."

"Isn't it? You’re dripping and the little bunny’s still asleep, yet look how desperate he is, rutting against you." Rafayel's voice dips, a raspy edge from his throat still fucking into you making it even more sinful, slurping everything you give him around his fingers before it drips down his wrist and into a puddle below. A huff, “I should get rewarded with how much effort I’m putting in.”

You cry out, legs trembling as his thumb begins its relentless attack on your clit, tracing mindless circles just random enough to keep you on edge. You're close, and Rafayel can feel it.

Xavier isn’t faring much better, whimpering a string of incoherent pleas into the crook of your neck as his hips keep rocking into the fist around him. He doesn't take his mouth away from the skin of your shoulder, biting down on it as he cums, shuddering and whimpering as the mess splatters down Rafayel's knuckles and onto your thighs. 

“You’re next. If you won’t be honest with me, I’ll make your body is.” Rafayel’s taunt is the last coherent thing you remember before you come. Hard. His words ring against your skull as his fingers pump into you faster, and the pressure against your clit becomes almost unbearable, and you're falling apart, crying and thrashing, the only thing keeping you grounded is the feeling of Rafayel's weight and the scent of Xavier's strawberry shampoo, and then—

Rafayel finally shuts up to let you ride his face through your high, letting you use him as your thighs lock around his head, grinding desperately as though he were no more than a toy. No chance of breathing, no chance of escape. 

Not that he could care less, not as long as he could keep his lips around your gushing cunt, humming and sucking into your release as cum sprays over his tongue and down his chin. Gods, he could never get enough of this.

You're still shaking through your orgasm, pliant and stupid from the dizzying pleasure, that you don't notice the rustle of sheets until a second pair of hands slide down your thighs. 

"You’re doing this without me?" 

Xavier’s voice is a whisper, husky from sleep and his orgasm as he presses a kiss right below your ear, fingers squeezing rougher against your breasts.

"S-sorry. Didn't want to wake you," you try, biting back a gasp when his thumb flicks over a nipple. Rough. Mean. 

Rafayel snorts. "I think it's a bit too late for that.” A glare at Xavier over your leg, showing off your cum still dripping from his lips and fingers. ”Besides, I didn't need you."

You want to argue, really, but then Xavier is grabbing a fistful of your hair, tugging just hard enough to push your head back, coaxing a moan from your throat as he marks down your neck with kisses intending to bruise. He’s pouting, grabbing your jaw as he forces your gaze away from Rafayel, nipping your bottom lip until you surrender to his drowsy advances.

“Why…” Another kiss before Xavier's licking desperately into your mouth, “Why didn't you wake me?"

The question comes out a little breathless, almost petulant, eyes hooded and dark as he looks over the mess Rafayel has made of you. He can't tear his eyes away, watching Rafayel even as he kisses you. His fingers flick over your nipple again, twisting and pinching until you're shaking, your thighs squeezing Rafayel's face, all while Xavier watches.

Said man only smiles, all smug arrogance. "Didn't you hear her, Xav? She said she didn't want to wake you, so don't blame me."

Rafayel drags a wet, open-mouthed kiss over your cunt, the overstimulation making you break the kiss with a gasp.

"Liar." Xavier's voice trembles, and you can't tell if he's referring to Rafayel's words, or the way he's staring longingly at Rafayel's lips now, still slick with your release. "You just wanted her all to yourself."

He doesn't bother giving Rafayel a chance to retort, taking the punishment out on you as he dips his head underneath your folded-up shirt, groaning as his hot tongue rolls over your nipple, sucking at the stiff peak as his hand continues to assault the other. The onslaught has you whimpering, pushing and clawing against Xavier’s shoulder to try and fight him off as he refuses to let go for even a moment. 

Rafayel's not one to be ignored, not when he has the advantage, and his tongue is back to fucking into your cunt with no reprieve, a cruel smirk on his face as you writhe and beg for their mercy.

Your hips roll, torn between pleasure and oversensitivity, unable to escape either of the men. It's overwhelming. Too much, too quickly, you only just came and you're already getting dragged back.

"Ah! Stop, I'm already mhm—"

You're interrupted by Xavier's tongue slipping into your mouth, a filthy, lazy slide that makes you grind up into Rafayel's tongue. It's like he doesn't even need to breathe, the wet, sloppy sounds of him eating you out drowned out only by the sound of Xavier kissing you senseless, pausing just to nip and suck at your breasts as though he'll get rewarded if he just tries hard enough. 

"You want him to stop? Is the mermaid not enough to satisfy you, princess?" Xavier taunts, lips brushing against your ear as his hips push up, grinding his cock against your thigh. "If that's the case, perhaps we should switch. I can give you exactly what you want, remember?"

“Shut up, I’m the one making her cum.”

“Only cause I wasn’t awake yet.”

“You snooze, you lose. Whose fault is that? Oh ya, yours.” 

They're at each other's throats yet again, practically clawing and snapping at each other, and you're helpless to try and intervene when they take their faux anger out on your poor abused body. 

You can't think, can't focus, can't do anything but shake and pant and sob into the pillow, their combined weight on top of you, forcing your pleasure higher and higher. 

“Xav—" He cuts you off with a kiss. 

“Shh, just take it."

You can't even tell who’s sloppier anymore- Xavier fucking your mouth with his tongue or Rafayel still eating you through your second orgasm, the sudden hit of it thundering down your body. 

“You look so pretty when you come," Xavier moans into your lips, his eyes half-lidded and glazed, hand coming up to stroke your cheek as he watches you, a sharp contrast to the other still rolling against your swollen nipple, loving the way you jerk into his touch. Then a glare to the man below. "My turn.”

Your body is still trembling, Rafayel's merciless fingers not allowing you to come down from your high, aftershocks of hypersensitivity crashing down your spine as every muscle spasms. No more. No more, please. You can’t possibly come again. 

You don't realize you’re begging out loud, not until Xavier shushes you with another bruising kiss. 

But it doesn't seem like Rafayel has any plans on stopping, not until Xavier’s hand skims down your thighs and yanks him up by the chain of his necklace. 

Rafayel growls as he's practically forced off your weeping cunt, eyes bleary and unfocused as he fights the blond's grip. And god, he looks absolutely wrecked, spit and cum dripping from his mouth and chin, connecting his lips to your pussy in sticky wet strands before they break, and you feel the unmistakable bulge of his cock straining against his soaked boxers. 

Xavier yanks him forward, pulling the necklace chain until he crashes his lips onto Rafayel's, all teeth and tongue, desperate to get a taste of your cum from his mouth. It's filthy, and Rafayel is the first to give in, still drunk off your taste and now Xavier's too.

"Mhm, you taste like her," Xavier whispers, pulling him closer until their bodies are pressed together, his mouth still moving against Rafayel's swollen, parted lips.

"Ya?" Rafayel’s grin is predatory, all fang and sin. "You wanna try too, don’t you? Give in then, bunny, lie down for us.”

"I don't take orders from you." 

Xavier scowls against Rafayel's lips, but you can feel his resolve breaking, his arm trembling where it rests against your thigh. 

"No, you take them from her, and she asked us so, so nicely to make her come. You wouldn't dare deny her that, would you?”

The Lemurian is nothing if not dangerously persistent, one hand coaxing Xavier backward so gently you don’t think he realizes how easily he’s falling, the other clawing down his abs as Rafayel bites against the erratic thud of Xavier’s pulse. Sharp and bruising, a silent promise for what to come. "Or do you wanna eat her out like I did? Have her ride your face while I fuck into her poor, desperate cunt? I can't decide, there are so many options."

“No.” It’s more a plea than a demand. Xavier's voice shakes with need, and you watch, dizzy and panting, as Rafayel's fingers slip underneath the waistband of Xavier's boxers. His fingers, still dripping with your cum, brush down the length of his cock, thumb circling the sensitive head and smearing the copious amount of pre-cum leaking from it. “You had y-your turn.” 

He can hardly finish his objection, not when Rafayel’s thumb comes up to abuse his leaking slit, Xavier’s words slurring into a desperate whine as he practically collapses back onto his elbows. Immediately, Rafayel is atop him.

"A competition, then." Rafayel leans down to whisper into Xavier's ear, but the words are purposefully teased out loud enough for you to hear, “But you lose if you cum first, and I get to fuck her.”

It's a low blow, a challenge he knows Xavier can't turn down. 

A challenge that somehow has you poised once again as the torment and the reward.

And it's true, because the second the words register, the blond's eyes shoot open, and his cock jerks violently against Rafeyel’s palm, a broken sound leaving his lips as his eyes lock back onto yours with all the promise of a starving hunter.

"Deal.”

Xavier doesn't allow the agreement to go without a price. Something snaps, the bedroom flickering with a sudden darkness as all the light vanishes. 

One moment, you’re lying against the bed, and the next Xavier manhandles you to your knees, one hand forcing your arms behind your back as he tugs you against him, the other pinning Rafayel to the mattress.

Rafayel’s the very picture of smug sin, the feral expression far more genuine, less threatening and much more amused as he nestles further into the pillows, one arm tucked lazily behind his head. 

Cold fingers dance up your hips, and Rafayel drags your bare cunt over his thighs and onto his lap, a pleased sigh escaping his lips as you're pinned deliciously between his cock and Xavier's sculpted back.

"So needy, little bunny."

"Shut up. I'm not the one who's leaking."

Rafayel snorts, and before the two can start fighting again, you're leaning forward, a hand resting against Rafayel's abs as you cup his erection through his boxers. And when he moans you believe every myth, every fairytale singing the doom of sailors to a siren song, because every sound he gives you is addictive and sweet enough that you’d drown to hear it again. 

Pulling Rafayel's cock out from his boxers, you’re stunned yet again by the slightly non-human beauty of it, heavy and thick in your palm, the flushed, ruddy tip already drooling precum as you thumb at it in vengeance. You know Xavier's watching from the way his own cock twitches against your back, hands digging bruises into your hips. Then, the warmth at your back disappears. 

Instead, a pair of hands drag your ass up, forcing you into a deep arch as you scramble for purchase against Rafayel’s thigh and the bed below.

“Closer.” Xavier’s hand laces into your hair as he pushes your head down, forcing your mouth to nuzzle against the base of Rafayel's cock. 

The movement pulls a gasp from both of you, your hot breath teasing the sensitive skin of Rafayel's shaft and forcing a shudder from his entire body. 

Seeing the two of you completely at his mercy does terrible, horrible things to Xavier, and his fingers dig bruises into your hips as it takes him everything not to forgo the competition and fuck you right there. 

"Good girl,” he hums, voice trembling as his grip tightens against your hair, giving you a harsh glare when you whine and squirm in his hold. "Now open."

You can't bring yourself to say no, not when the sight of Rafayel's eyes rolling back the second you do makes your stomach clench. His cock twitches against you as you lick at the copious amounts of cum leaking from his tip, then obediently wrap your lips around him.

With a smile that would have you shaking, Xavier leans down, barely able to continue guiding your head as he’s entranced with the mess between your legs, licking up the slick dripping down your thighs as he sucks against the delicate flesh, marking right over the sensitive bruises Rafayel had only just left behind. 

 “This- hah-” Rafayel curses under his breath, the single word breaking off into a moan, the sound muffled by his palm as his chest heaves. “This is hardly fair.”

But his complaints feel half-hearted, not with the way he’s already rutting into your mouth, Xavier’s iron grip keeping you in place as Rafayel thrusts himself into your mouth in one breath. You yield pathetically quick, flattening your tongue against the slick underside of his cock, another stream of pre-cum flooding your mouth as you nearly choke on it all, unable to pull off to even take a breath as Xavier guides your head up and down in a steady rhythm that has Rafayel falling apart. 

It’s cruel, but you can't help each pathetic moan that gets muffed onto Rafayel’s cock, the vibrations forcing his back to arch off the bed, head rolling back as it thuds against the pillows, Adam's apple bobbing as he gulps in shallow breaths.

You almost wish he would let you see his eyes, but then you'd miss the view of his chest, every muscle tight and twitching under his skin, the mesmerizing sight now blurry from the tears forming in your eyes. You can't resist reaching up, dragging your nails down his abs, watching his body jerk against every new line of red.

"Please,” you're not sure if the broken whimper belonged to Rafayel or yourself. “Please, I can't wait anymore, wanna feel you— fuck— wanna fill you up again, please let me cum." It's like just the very thought has Rafayel keening, his hips jerking up into your hot mouth with reckless abandon as Xavier forces your spine up into a deeper arch.

You're nearly bent in half, the new angle leaving no part of you hidden from Xavier's hungry gaze as he watches you practically drool over Rafayel’s cock, lips meeting his pelvis as he breaches your throat. 

Xavier’s going to win. He needs to win. 

The thought makes him frantic, tongue fucking past the tight resistance of your cunt, his hand sliding up to tease at your clit. He won't be the one to finish first, not this time. Not when he's wanted nothing more than to feel your cunt gushing around him ever since Rafayel woke him up, ever since the two of you had the audacity to start this without him.

Rafayel can’t last much longer, especially not when you bring one shaking hand down to massage his swollen balls, hardly in control of your own movements as you feel dizzy on the addictive combination from the lack of oxygen and pleasure as Xavier begins to eat you out like a man starved. 

The room’s filled with the sounds of each slick, messy movement, whimpers from the man beneath you and breathless pleas from the one behind, bed rattling with every thrust. 

And yet you’re still so painfully empty. So, so, empty as your cunt flutters around Xavier’s tongue before he relents to kiss your clit once more, dragging a dissatisfied whine from you as you fight yourself off Rafayel’s cock. 

"F-fuck me. Please," A sob, and you feel both Rafayel and Xavier shudder. "It’s not enough. Want your cocks inside me, wanna cum on it. Need it, please-"

Oh, and when you beg like that, they should have known they never would have stood a chance.

"Shit."

"Ah, please-"

It's a blur. A rush of hands, of pleasure and pain, all of it colliding and dragging you to the edge. The room spins, the ceiling above you falling until the familiar, comforting feeling of slick muscle embraces you, grounding you as you focus on the erratic heartbeat between each ragged exhale. 

You're still sandwiched between them, lying on Rafayel as Xavier's weight drapes across your back, head propped up on the former's chest as you stare blearily at his silver pendant, unable to move. You're not even sure if you can, not with the way Xavier's still gripping the backs of your thighs, spreading you open as he forces one leg higher up.

Then, the blunt head of his cock grinds between your folds.

Xavier’s pressing his forehead against your back, wrapping his arms around you before biting into the crook of your neck. "You mean it? You’ll let us come inside again?"

Rafayel laughs, a raspy sound still raw from his orgasm. "Well, we both lost. Now what, bunny? We can't just leave her like this, poor thing is trembling." 

"Mhm,” Xavier forces you up, “We both fuck her then."

His words only make you whimper, body jerking uselessly against Xavier's grip. His hands lift you as Rafayel flips you around so you're now facing the blond, flinching violently as his cock brushes your swollen clit, any semblance of protest quelled as Xavier pulls you into another messy kiss. 

It’s demanding, Xavier mumbling achingly sweet praises into your open mouth as he begins to press you down, faster, harsher, forcing you onto Rafayel’s lap in a reverse cowgirl as you slide down slowly, taking inch by inch of Rafayel’s throbbing cock. There’s hardly any blue left in Xavier’s blow-out pupils, too mesmerized by the slick mess you’re gushing down their thighs. And just when you begin to squirm, impatient and desperate, Xavier slows their pace even more.

"Shhh, we need to make sure you'll be able to take both of us."

Rafayel's hand is wrapped around your waist, thumb rubbing small circles into your stomach, and if it weren't for Xavier's arms locked around you, holding you upright, you would have collapsed the second Rafayel pressed into the spot his fingers had found.

"Look at you," he purrs, a low sound that has you gasping. "So pretty when you’re needy. Can you feel me?"

It's hard not to. Everywhere feels warm, and every slow thrust, no matter how gentle, has a small burst of ecstasy building in your stomach, a wave crashing higher and higher as the two of them slowly fuck you full. Just as you’re nearly seated all the way onto Rafayel’s length, Xavier’s palms come up to the back of your knees, folding them up and forcing you backward until you’re practically lying prone atop of Rafayel.

Your head lolls uselessly against Rafayel's neck, gasping at the force of the new position,  and you're not sure if it's the tears in your eyes or the overwhelming pressure against your walls as they stretch around his cock that's making the world so blurry. Xavier soon follows you down, pressing you closer into Rafayel’s chest as his lips trail your jaw, your neck, your sucking against every sensitive spot behind your ears until you're distracted from the pain.

"You're doing so good, princess. Just a little more."

The sudden onslaught of pressure of both of you atop him has Rafayel flinching, and he hisses out a pained moan, hips jerking up into the slick heat of your pussy, and it's only Xavier's grip that keeps the two of you from slipping off.

"Hah- hurry up-" Rafayel's eyes are glassy, his head tipped back and face twisted in pleasure. 

Strings of incoherent pleas are whispered against your ear, Rafayel marking up the left side of your neck while Xavier’s still busy with the right, that is, until Xavier switches sides, biting right over Rafayel’s marks until he’s pulled up into a desperate kiss.

The wet sounds of their lips are filthy and obscene, each hot breath and moan brushing past your ear as you writhe, pressed between them. Rafayel's cock is already swelling, twitching against the fluttering walls of your pussy, unwilling to fully pull out, settling to just grinding up in slow, cruel thrusts before something in him snaps and he switches to pounding against your abused walls.

Every time you think you’ll finally come Rafayel switches pace, the obscene slap of skin on skin muffled only by your sobs and their kissing. 

You’re close, so so fucking close you feel your muscles begin to shake. Xavier only pushes you down further, every angle a new cruelty, smothering you between them, rendering you unable to do anything but take it.

Again, Rafayel slows, and you slur curses down at him as your thighs tremble from overstimulation, shaking violently until you feel something grab your calf. Xavier massages the quivering muscle, gentle until he’s suddenly pressing your knee higher and higher, going until it’s pinned to the mattress up against your head.

And now Rafayel is hitting impossibly deeper, abusing your poor g-spot with each thrust. 

Xavier kisses your ankle, then calf, making his way up your leg until he can nip at your inner thighs now folded over his shoulder. And then you feel the pressure of his cock at your already full entrance. Xavier’s hand dips down between your bodies, trying to bully himself in alongside Rafayel, but his cock slides past your navel, slick and covered in your combined cum. 

"No, no no, not gonna fit- ah- Xavier!"

Your words break off into a wail as he tries again, grinding closer so you’re tightly cradled between the two, Xavier leaning fully atop you both. A snarl grits through his jaw when his cock slips past again, readjusting you so your legs fall apart wider, the burn in your thighs turning delicious and overwhelming, pussy weeping around Rafayel’s cock as Xavier’s swollen, leaking head bumps against your clit. 

Xavier watches the mess, every thrust and messy squirt of cum, brows furrowed and flushed a deep red, as he whines into your shoulder, "Please- can't stop- please let me fuck you too, you'll look so pretty with both of us filling you up, taking us so good- don’t make me stop."

He’s reduced to babbling against your neck, biting down hard enough to bleed when your cunt finally yields to him too, cockhead bumping into Rafayel’s as he slowly pushes in inch and inch, trembling from the combined pleasure of your walls and the violent throbbing of every vein now grinding together.

It's too much, it’s not enough, the stretch and the friction and the pressure leaving you fucked stupid, hands scrambling for purchase. Rafayel grunts when your nails drag across his thighs, his own hands coming to latch onto your wrists, pinning them above his head, forcing you motionless between them.

You can do nothing but sob, tears streaming down your face as your entire body convulses. And when they finally, finally bottom out together, the world goes white.

"Shh, you're alright," Rafayel soothes, although his voice is trembling, the sound broken as he tries to catch his breath. "Doing so well for us, cutie, so perfect."

Xavier growls, his hands grabbing the headboard. He's barely holding on, not with the way Rafayel's cock twitches against his own, your hot walls clenched tightly around the two of them as you beg.

"Please, can't- too much, more, I need-"

There's a broken sob, and then Xavier’s slamming his hips forward, fucking into you with a brutality he usually saves for Rafayel, the force sending the three of you rocking against the mattress, headboard splintering under the strength of his grip. The other leaves to thumb at your nipples, lips following suit as he rambles, drunk off your pussy, "These would look s'pretty filled, even more sensitive. Bet you'd let us milk you, fill you up even more."

"And here, you'll feel us here too, won't you?" A hand moves lower- whose you no longer are coherent enough to care- brushing over the swell of your abdomen, the slight bulge appearing and disappearing where both of them are thrusting violently into you. "Be a waste not to. Imagine it, a painted mess filled with us.”

And you are. You can't think about anything else, not with the way they're stuffing you full— every time Rafayel's cock would settle near your g-spot Xavier’s would ram back in, forcing the former up against your cervix before pulling out entirely, repeating the vicious rhythm as the pain bled into pleasure. 

Tears stream down the side of your face, room spinning into dizziness until all that remains are the burning trails of their touch, the only things keeping you grounded. 

Rafayel's sucking into your shoulder, biting the sweat-slicked flesh, and you can feel his hips begin to stutter underneath you, already reaching his high despite Xavier still pounding into you with the same intensity, desperate to catch up.

The moment Xavier feels Rafayel's release, it's over. Your back arches up against him, convulsing against their hold, your abused walls clenching down so tightly that you’re practically begging for them to come inside, sucking them in deeper and deeper until it’s impossible for them not to follow.

It's a violent orgasm, hot squirt of your cum drenching Xavier’s abs, the intensity of it causing Rafayel’s vision to white out too, unable to hear the desperate sounds of your moans, not when his blood is rushing past his ears.

Then, the world comes crashing back.

Rafayel’s panting, still thrusting weakly into the slick, tight heat as he emptied himself inside you, the sheer overload of it gushing down your legs and onto the sheets. 

"Ah- Xavier," you whine, the sound muffled into his chest as Xavier continues to chase after his high, too lost in his late orgasm to pull out.

The overstimulation is torture, your body twitching and trembling with every sloppy thrust. The moment he finally pulls out, the mess follows, thick, white rivets leaking down your thighs, the sheer volume near damn concerning had you the capacity to focus on it.

Rafayel laughs, fingers swirling through the cum as though painting your thighs, "That's not going to be easy to clean up."

"S'gonna look pretty. Messy. Full." Xavier murmurs, still pinning the both of you beneath him as he collapses in exhaustion, fingers dancing over the small swell in your stomach. Pressing lightly, he watches in fascination as their mixed cum gushes out faster, and you whimper, gripping his wrists to stop before they get any more ideas. 

You're not sure what's worse, the fact that they're both still hard and the way they're looking at you, or the fact that their words have your exhausted body already trying to recover, a shiver running through your sore muscles as the room's cool air brushes over the slick, sticky mess between your thighs.

"You're both so disgusting," you groan, the words coming out slurred and barely audible. 

"You love it."

"Yeah," Xavier's agreement is soft and almost hesitant. "You love us."

"Yes, I love both of you. Now get the fuck off of me." A shove, your shaking arm barely affecting Xavier as he finally relents, a small smile on his lips as he rolls the three of you down into the bed, resting on your sides. 

The muscles in your thighs scream in relief as they’re finally placed down, every inch of your body sore and marked up in one way or another, every visible bruise and bite getting pampered in faux apologies by the two men snuggling up next to you.

It’s a tangle of limbs, Xavier already claiming your chest again as he nuzzles into your breasts while Rafayel simply curls himself around your back. A hand there, an arm there, and a little more muffled bickering. Yet you all fit together, and sleep comes easy now. 

And the nightmares never return. 

[tarotbydelilah444]

pac: your first night with your future spouse

hi guys! I am back with another pac reading. I am super grateful for 700+ followers and wanted to give you guys a quick and spicy pac reading as a thank you. anyways I hope you all enjoy and as always sending you love & light.

- Delilah 🤍

P1 : ace of cups + nine of pentacles + eight of swords + the wheel

I pick up that your future spouse wants to spoil you and satisfy your every want, need, and desire on your first night together. There is a profound love that the two of you have for one another, you and your person share a past life connection which explains why there is a strong and magnetic chemistry brewing between you and your person on your first night. Your person absolutely values, adores, and respects you deeply and they want to shower you in all their love in a romantic, and obviously in a sexual sense. There is a sense of impatience that is coming from your partner, but it mostly because they want you so badly, but will try their best to restrain themselves and be gentle with you. This may be someone’s first time, or your person just want to ensure that you are comfortable and take their sweet and precious time to explore every inch of you. There will be a lot of intense eye contact going on between you and your fp, staring into each other’s soul the entire time. This is definitely a weakness for both of you because I see that both of you will be aroused the entire time from the level of intensity and sexual tension present in that moment. The sex will begin with an intermission, so expect lots of sweet and tender kisses all over each others’ body. you and your future spouse will take turns tasting each others plentiful juices that will have you screaming, moaning, crying, and cursing their name from all the pleasure that they are giving you and vice versa (they will be so turned on by this and how wet/ hard you get for them). Your person may also desire to give you backshots as well. The sex will be sensual and slow, yet very tender & passionate. Like I stated previously, your person wants to take their time exploring every inch of you, so be prepared for a long night of lovemaking. This is more than just a night of passion for your person, they want to merge with you, as they want your souls to be intertwined in this moment and forever. They truly do love you and want to satisfy you, not only a physical level, but a metaphysical level. They will want to see everything, they want you to bare yourself to them and they will do the same. They will be very attentive to you, making sure you feel comfortable and satisfied at the same damn time, often paying attention to your facial expressions, body language, movement, and noises you make as they rock your world. It will definitely be an emotional experience for the both of you, but specifically for you in a good way. For some, you and your fp first night together may occur in or near a body of water (shower, bath, pool, hot tub, rain, ocean, beach, etc). I see you and your person being unable to keep your hands to yourself, so you can definitely expect to go for a couple more rounds in every position conceivably possible that could may lead to the two of you conceiving, or until you both collapse in each others arms from all the sweet and pleasurable love-making.

extra messages: March, summertime, Sagittarius, Scorpio, Libra, Virgo, Taurus, 7th house, 2nd house, and 6th house, in my feelings, August, very soon, “ I don’t care if we get caught” 

channeled songs :

P2: five of swords + queen of pentacles + the world + nine of swords + two of cups 

Okay… so there is a need for someone to release their inhibitions, this could be either you or your future spouse. Someone could be afraid to allow themselves to be free when it comes to sex even though there is a burning desire that burns inside of you for your person or vice versa (apply it as you see fit). Your person wants you to fully surrender yourself to them and trust that they won’t hurt you and that you are safe with them. They want you to feel comfortable and confident in yourself to allow yourself the right to pleasure, but that can only happen with trust and vulnerability. I’m picking up that some of you may deal with insecurities when it comes to your body or even when it comes to the topic of sex. You may even be worried that your future spouse will judge you or that you won’t satisfy them, but I feel like some of these doubts are in your head (not to discredit your feelings), but I think you will be so in your head about your first night with them. Let me gas you up, your future spouse is even privileged to be in your presence and they will love every single thing about you and will reassure you that you are the most stunning woman that they have and will always love. Your person doesn’t judge nor will they criticize you, they love and respect you so much regardless of what you say or think about yourself. You are everything and more to this person and they would be more than honored if you allow them to show you exactly how loved and absolutely appealing you are to them. For others, I feel like some of you could feel too overwhelmed or shy to initiate your true desires to your person, yet I can sense that your person can sense this and will want to encourage you to step outside of your coyness and lay your burdens down. They know that deep down you are a freak, even though you come off as modest when you in these streets. If your partner is artsy, I see them wanting to paint you nude as their muse. The purpose is for you to see what they see from their perspective and to at least help ease your anxiety and worry. I’m also seeing a private show as well, so maybe your person might want you to dance for them and tease each other slipping each other clothes off one by one. Your person will be in awe of your body, like they see it as a masterpiece and work of art. It’s so appealing to them that they are almost eager to touch and kiss all over your beautiful body to make you forget all about your insecurities and worries. Your fp touches on your body will ignite all the hidden passions and desires you have been keeping locked away, it almost as if their touch has an intoxicating and powerful effect on your body, awakening it after a long hibernation. For some, your future spouse is more experienced than you in sex, so they will know exactly what they are doing in the bedroom and know exactly how to work your body (your person is packing) and want you to sit back and enjoy the pleasure. They will be very tender and intentional on how they touch you, so touching you in all the right places that will guarantee to make you weak and thirsty for more. They will lay you down and be nice, slow, and gentle with you, giving you sweet and passionate kisses, and talking you through the entire experience (giving words of encouragement) as they ease in and out of you. They love to hear you moan and coming undone as they pleasure you. Your person is most concern with your needs, as they want you to enjoy this moment to the fullest and let it all out, literally. By the end, you and your person may climax at the same time, this person may finish inside of you, they desire to have/build a family with you right away because they love you so much. Your person may even profess “I love you” or how much they love you during sex. This will definitely be a healing and transformative experience for you in a good way. I see that you will finally feel so free and pleased after sex with your person. You will feel like you are in a daze or you are in some type of trance after your first night with your person. 

extra messages: Mea Culpa (movie), August, Cancer, Pisces, Scorpio, Taurus, Capricorn, Virgo, Aries, Leo, Sagittarius, springtime, June, birthday, next year, healer, creativity, honeymoon, self-sabotage, crown chakra (enlightenment), nothing was the same, “don’t run from me” 

channeled songs:

P3: the tower + the devil + six of cups + ace of wands + the star + three of cups

The first half of this reading will be about the dynamic of your relationship with your future spouse. This reading is timeless. For those who choose this pile, your future spouse might be your current person or if you have recently reconciled with a love interest, this may be confirmation that this is the person that you will likely marry, so take it if it resonates. You and your future spouse could be twin flames, since I am seeing divine feminine and divine masculine energy in the reading. The love between the two of you is very strong and intense because the two of you mirror each other, the best parts and the worst parts of each other. You and your spouse are/were brought together in this lifetime to learn lessons and work through any issues that are presently affecting your connection which could explain why you and this person keep finding your way back to each other even after you have parted ways. I sense there is a runner and chaser dynamic between you and your person that will continue until the two are able to face  and heal your own insecurities, traumas, and inner struggles to enjoy a loving and healthy union. One of you want to embrace the connection in all it’s entirety, and the other is choosing to run away and self-sabotage out of fear because they aren’t ready to accept and face themselves to be ready for this union, even though they love you and cannot deny the intensity this connection brings. There is or will be a period of separation between you and your person, but it will be very important for you both and for the betterment of the connection. It will allow the two of you to evolve and heal independently to come together to build a stronger and loving  relationship, if both parties accept this connection in its entirety. The first night together will be hot, steamy, passionate, and raw to say the least. The sexual tension between you and your future spouse is so undeniably powerful that it will be hard for your person to resist themselves. I see black lingerie, so for some, you will be wearing lingerie and putting on a little show for them and this will immediately send them overboard and into a sex-crazed frenzy. Your fs will be exploding with lust that they have tried so tirelessly to tame and resist for so long and it will be evidently impossible for them to continue to resist the temptation to just tear your clothes off and end it all. Your future spouse has been waiting quite some time to have access to your body that they often fantasized all the things they want to do to you, whenever the opportunity presented itself. They fantasize about making you submit yourself to them. They want to taste you over and over again until you scream their name. They want to leave passion marks all over your body to show everyone that you are solely theirs and theirs alone. They want to tie you up and show you who’s in control. I sense that your person kept these fantasies to themselves because they didn’t want to scare you or mislead you to think that “sex” was the only thing they wanted from you, but now that they have the chance, they are ready to unleash their inner beast. For some, this may not be you and this person “first night” together, so maybe you and this person were intimate in the past, but this time will be different, it will definitely be better than the first time. Mind-blowing is the best word to describe your first night together. The sex between you and your person will be so much intenser, passionate, spiritual, emotional, and loving all at once. I see a lot of roughhousing, riding, long penetrative strokes, fondling, and fingering until you both come undone. You and your person could definitely experience a Kundalini awakening as you climax in unison. The first night together will definitely be a healing and transformative experience for you and your future spouse, that will only bring you closer together to never be broken again.  channeled songs :

extra messages: June, October, 666, 10th house, 6th house, throat chakra, “ I like you,” September, February, solar plexus chakra, summertime, Taurus, November, divine masculine, player, Cancer, Pisces, Aquarius, Capricorn, Scorpio, Aries, pregnancy, “nobody compares to you,” worn out

[soobibabe]

espresso kim mingyu

rewite of one of my most popular oneshots, espresso! pairings: kim mingyu + reader trope: friends to lovers genre ▸ romantic comedy (including smut) wc: warnings: 'unprotected' sex (she's on the pill tho) , oral [m + f receiving], fingering, choking, lots of praise and pet names, creampie, v. squirting. lmk if I miss any.

[ august 2nd 2023 ]

It’s been so long since you last saw the friend group that just walking in makes you jittery. You've known these guys since high school, all thanks to Mingyu, but university life has kept you too busy to catch up.

You do see Mingyu the most, given that you both attend SNU together, but the rest of the gang has been a rare sight.

When you finally step through the door, your nerves quickly dissolve. The room erupts in cheers as soon as you're spotted, with Soonyoung’s voice ringing out in delight.

“Come hereeee! You’re all grown up now!” His eyes light up as he watches you move towards the circle they’ve formed in the living room. He’s already looking tipsy.

“Soooonieee, I missed you!” You hug him tightly as soon as you’re within reach. Chan’s voice cuts through the celebration. “Yah, quit hogging her!”

“Ignore them both; they’re half a bottle of soju away from full-blown drunkenness,” Dokyeom says with a laugh, pulling you away from their clinging. “Let’s get you settled. What do you want to drink? It doesn’t have to be alcohol if you’re not into that, though we were about to start a drinking game.”

You smile, feeling a wave of nostalgia. “Just water for me, but a drinking game sounds fun. I’d love to join, though you know my tolerance is pretty much nonexistent.”

“That’s fine,” Dokyeom says. “You can just watch, but—”

Before he can finish, Mingyu joins you in the kitchen, cutting in smoothly. “We were thinking of playing truth or dare, or drink. DK suggested it for old times’ sake.”

You don’t notice Minghao entering until his voice calls out your name, making you jump slightly. “I missed you. It’s been so long!” He moves in for an embrace, but Mingyu grabs your wrist and steers you towards the others. “Missed you too, Hao—” Your words are cut short by Mingyu’s brisk pace.

You miss the tense exchange of glances between Minghao and Mingyu, the latter looking determined while Minghao wears a sly smirk.

DK follows into the living room, carrying a tray of shot glasses and bottles. “So, who’s up first?”

The game kicks off with outrageous dares, from posting twerking videos on Instagram (DK’s specialty) to speaking Korean with an American accent for the rest of the game.

When it’s Minghao’s turn, he locks eyes with Mingyu. “I dare you to call the girl you like and confess exactly how you feel.”

The dare hits you like a punch to the gut. Mingyu hesitates for a moment before downing his shot in one go. Since when was he seeing someone?

The game continues with laughter and more dares until Wonwoo finally arrives, fresh from a long day at his internship.

The night has been the most fun you’ve had in years, but Mingyu’s secret lingers in your mind. Why hasn’t he told you about this?

Later, after everyone else has either left or collapsed on the couch, you and Mingyu find yourselves sitting on the porch outside his room. The cool night air and the city’s soft hum create the perfect backdrop.

“Why didn’t you tell me you liked someone?” you ask, trying to sound casual despite the twist in your chest.

Mingyu looks at you, his expression unreadable. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how? We’re best friends, Mingyu. You can tell me anything,” you press.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing. Really, don’t worry about it.”

Defeated, you decide to drop the topic. “Anyway, it’s late. I should get going—” But before you can finish, Mingyu’s warm hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you back. The touch is unexpected but gentle.

“Don’t go,” Mingyu says, his brown eyes earnest. “It’s past midnight; you shouldn’t be driving alone.”

“It’s okay, Gyu, I’ll be fine.”

He pulls you closer, his grip firm but tender. “Please don’t go.” His plea makes your breath hitch. You’re used to his alcohol-fueled clinginess, but this feels different. Your heart races, and the tension between you makes your cheeks flush.

You grab Mingyu’s leftover soju from the ledge and take a swig. He watches you with a mix of surprise and admiration.

“Mingyu, can I do something stupid?” you ask, feeling the alcohol’s effects loosen your inhibitions.

“Do anything you want, whether it’s with me or something else. Just stay with me,” he replies, his voice low.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the moment, but you lift your hand to his cheek, standing on tiptoe to meet his gaze. Lost in his eyes, you notice his focus on your lips.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, as if he could read your mind.

He doesn’t hesitate. With a swift, decisive movement, his lips crash onto yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling away for air, but he immediately follows, chasing your lips with his own.

His hands explore your hips, then waist, until he's grabbed one of your thighs, pulling it up to his frame.

He pulls away, this time you expect him to say that you shouldn't be doing this, but to your surprise... "Need more. I need you, y/n" The whininess in his tone causes you to reject any worry you previously have about 'ruining the friendship'.

"You have me, Gyu". you manage to say, but you're so breathless it comes out sounding like a moan, it ignites something in Mingyu You'd never seen before.

His eyes grow dark in an instant, kissing you again this time leading you into the room with the hold he had on your hips. Strangely, you're the one who feels intoxicated now, mingyu sobering up by the minute.

"Can i touch you, y/n?" he whispers, breaking the kiss.

"Please do" you whisper back. He feels feral. Now you're on the bed, back against the mattress with mingyu hovering above you. He takes off his shirt and you're blushing like a teenager all over again.

You've seen Mingyu shirtless a number of times throughout your friendship. You would always have to look away, afraid he'd notice how flustered he made you. All those times were nothing compared to being this up close.

"Do you like what you see princess?" the way he says nickname has your heart and core fluttering. He holds your hand, presses it against his chest and you feel his heartbeat racing.

"I'm nervous too, its alright. we can stop at any point you don't feel like doing more, okay?" No other guy you've got this far with before paid this much attention to your satisfaction, he's unreal.

"Mingyu, i need you"

"You have me pretty girl, just tell me where"

You start by placing his palm against your cheek, then down to your chest torturously slow following the line that divides the left and right of your torso all the way down to your clothed cunt. "Here." you bat your lashes at him, doe eye on full display.

Mingyu wastes no time, he tugs the waistband of your pants all the way off in one swift motion. "Tell me how bad you want it baby" "Please gyu," you start, but your mind wonders far off anything coherent when you feel his lips graze your supple skin. He bites onto your panties, pulling them down your thighs with his teeth. So slowly, so sensually it almost feels surreal.

Once it's off, all of his attention is on your bare cunt, "dripping for me already and I haven't even touched you yet" "let's take care of that, yeah?" almost immediately, his face is buried in your heat, licking a long strip from your clit to your needy hole until he's back up, attacking your clit.

"Fuck, you taste so good" he practically moans out against your skin, sending vibrations through you.

Not long after the constant cycle of rubbing your clit and eating you like you were his last meal, he pulls off, spitting directly onto your slit and slides his middle and ring finger into you. His face returns to your cunt, repeating everything he did earlier, this time focusing on stimulating your gspot with his fingers.

“Right there! mmh” you whine out, trying to suppress your moans incase one of the guys outside wake up (which they wouldn’t even if you were to scream, because they’re all blacked out drunk).

“Don’t stop, please! fuck, gyu don’t stop” you feel him smirk against you. Your hands scurry the bed for something to hold onto when the pleasure starts to feel like too much. They finally reach to mingyu scalp tangling his hair causing him to moan out.

Without warning, his hands and lips detach from your pussy, earning pained a whimper from you feeling empty.

“Need to be inside you. Like now. i’ll make it up to you. Promise” he leans in, pulling you into another passionate kiss, hands busy with the him of your shirt “Take this off pretty. Wanna feel all of you.”

“Good girl” he hums once you do, kissing you as a reward. “Put me in”

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t intimidated by his size. Not only was he long, but he was blessed in the girth department too.

You reach for him, holding the base of his cock to align it with your entrance. Once you start pushing the tip in, you’re scared you might not be able to handle the rest of him.

“That’s it, keep going you can take it.” he encourages. He glides in easily thanks to his fireplay earlier, but the stretch was alot. “Don’t worry baby i’ll make it fit.”

He gently moves your hand off of his dick where you connected and places his on your hips instead. “It’ll feel good soon, i promise” he whispers.

He slams every inch of himself into you all at once in a sharp motion. “Shh, it’s okay. You’re doing so good for me” his strokes are slow, but hard. Not missing your g-spot once. The pain turns to pleasure faster than you thought.

“You look so pretty like this” you’re unable to respond to the compliment, too consumed in how good he makes you feel.

Your nails graze his back, surely leaving marks. It drives him insane. the thought of you claiming him gets him so worked up his pace quickens, his pelvis snapping against yours.

Mingyu busies himself in your neck, leaving bites thatlll most definitely bruise before tomorrow.“Gyu m’gonna cum” you’re seeing stars.

“let it all go for me princess” that’s all it takes for you to release all over his cock.

His pace is constant, fucking you through your orgasm.

“Shit, that was so hot, good job pretty”

Your pussy clenches on him repeatedly, sending him closer to his edge. “Ass up” you obey as soon as he requests. Once you’re flipped over, he puts a pillow under your stomach ensuring your comfort.

“Took me so well just like i said you would”

In no time, he’s back to his previous pace, thrusting in and out of your soaked cunt. “Has anyone else ever made you feel this good?”

“No! fuck, only you gyu!” you can’t see him, but you can already assume (accurately so) that he’s got a smirk plastered across his face.

As he continues, you feel the coil from earlier build up again.

Mingyu holds your hand, pulling it under your body, between your lower tummy and the pillow, pressing it against the bulge that appears when he strokes all the way into you. “Do you feel me here?”

“Yes, god cumming again” he presses down against the bulge harder, adding more stimulation to your second orgasm.

“Good girl. Me too” he groans.

“Fill me up, gyu” he does exactly that.

“Fuck,” he chucked lowly “you can’t just say stuff like that, it makes me wanna ruin you”

“Then ruin me” you muster out through broken moans from the overstimulation.

Your walls are coated white, flodded with his release.

He still hasn’t pull out of you, not wanting to break contact.

“You mean that?” he says as he collapses onto the bed, pulling you into a warm embrace.

“Nah i was just kidding” of course, you’re only teasing. After this, he can do anything he wants to you.

“Uh huh, will you still be saying that when i ask you to sit on my face once you’re no longer sore?” he bites back at you.

“Shh go to sleep” you attempt to change the topic, aware that you’re playing a losing game.

“No sleeping yet pretty girl. Let’s get you cleaned up” and with that, he scoups you up bridal style, walking you to the bathroom and starts the shower for you two.

“My legs are wobbly because of you”

“Weren’t you just begging me to ruin you?”

“Okay whatever let’s get this over with i’m sleepy “ you sulk.

Mingyu spends most of the time in the shower focused on tending to you even though you reassure him you’re okay to do it on your own.

You’re in his clothes, cuddled up into his large arms. He can’t believe this is really happening. The girl he’s been inlove with since he was a teen is really here, right now, beside him like this.

“are you asleep?” he asks softly.

“depends” you respond playfully, making him roll his eyes.

“i’m really glad… this happened” his tone changes to a whisper, much more serious than earlier.

“Me too. i’d be even more glad if it happened another time?”

“Noted” he giggles, which turns into a yawn.

“goodnight, y/n”

“goodnight, gyu”

His arms wrap around you, pulling you in somehow even closer. You both fall asleep in a matter of minutes. your heart feels so full.

[ august 3rd 2023 ]

You wake up wrapped in Mingyu's embrace, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest syncing with your own. As you shift onto your stomach, you lift your head to take in his sleeping face.

He looks utterly serene, the most angelic sight you've ever seen up close. Without thinking, your hand reaches up to cup his face, tenderly caressing his cheeks.

"I wish we could stay like this all day," you whisper, and his peaceful facade momentarily falters as a smile tugs at his lips.

"You sly little sh—" you begin, but yourwords are cut off as he flips you over, positioning himself on top of you.

"Let's stay like this then," he murmurs, burying his face in your chest, unwilling to let go of the warmth.

"But what about the guys?"

"What time do you think it is, baby?" he chuckles. "They all left, which is why I was already awake."

You glance at the clock on the nightstand. It's already 11 a.m.

"Don't blame me; you're the one who drained the life out of me last night!" You wince internally, regretting your choice of words as you notice him blush, his face hidden against your chest.

"Anyway, I made breakfast for you. Let's head to the kitchen," he says, and you can't help but think that Mingyu just keeps getting more perfect.

You spend the rest of the morning at his place, showering together, brushing your teeth, and lounging around in his clothes while eating and chatting casually. Well, almost casually. Mingyu finds every opportunity to steal kisses—at first, he says it’s to check for something on your lips, then it’s to blow an imaginary eyelash off your cheek. None of it is necessary, but you revel in his affectionate gestures.

Later, Mingyu insists you stay longer, but you have plans with Jiwon, your best friend, that evening. Reluctantly, you agree to leave, making a promise—thanks to Mingyu's persuasive charm—that you'll spend more one-on-one time with him later that week.

At the mall, Jiwon and you meander through a maze of shops, trying on clothes and chatting about everything under the sun. By the time you both concede to taking a break, your feet are sore, and your energy is depleted. You nestle into a comfy corner of a café, where you order a couple of steaming lattes and pastries, ready to unwind and catch up on life.

Despite your constant communication, there's always a treasure trove of new topics to dive into. Today, though, you’ve been brooding over how to drop some major news, and after much mental wrestling, you decide to take the plunge.

You're not sure how she'd react to the news about mingyu, so you decide to rip the bandage off all at once out of nowhere after hours of contemplation.

Jiwon’s eyes perk up immediately. "HE? YOU? Oh my god, stop! I’m going to pass out! YOU GUYS? Y/N?" Her shock and disbelief are palpable, reflecting your own feelings when you first wrapped your head around it.

You nod, a smile playing at your lips. "Yeah, I was just trying to figure out when and how to tell anyone."

Jiwon leans in, her face a mix of excitement and disbelief. "Well, now that we’re on this topic… how was it? Was he… you know… well-endowed?"

You laugh, feeling a flush of embarrassment mixed with amusement. "To sum it up in one word: heavenly. And yes, he’s definitely… well, impressive."

“Oh my god, this is amazing!” Jiwon’s eyes widen. “Honestly, I kind of saw this coming. He's always looking at you like he’s about to fall over from adoration. And even though you play it cool, it’s clear that you both have this crazy thing for each other but are too scared to admit it—probably because of the whole ‘maintaining the friendship’ thing.”

You cringe at how spot-on she is. “Okay, I won’t argue with your assessment. But you can’t deny that he’s seen me at my best and worst. He’s the best guy friend I’ve ever had, and it would be strange to end things since we share so many mutual friends.”

“Whatever’s meant to happen will happen, Y/N. Just do what feels right. I think that means letting whatever started with Mingyu last night continue.”

“Ugh, I agree. Thanks for being my moral compass, Jiwon. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” In a spontaneous gesture, she grabs your hand.

You expect her to say something sentimental, but instead, she surprises you with her usual boldness.

“Cute. Now let’s go get you some lingerie to celebrate with your boy toy.” Jiwon’s lack of a filter never ceases to amuse you.

[ august 7th 2023 ]

Mingyu's at your apartment, finally able to hang out together like you decided on the last you met.

You're both on the couch, keeping fair distance whilst you watch 'Crash Landing On You' for the second time with him.

Halfway into the second episode, mingyu slides himself closer to your end of the couch, breaking the invisible barrier between the two of you.

"i miss you" he pouts, seeking your attention.

"i'm right here" you can't help but giggle at how stupidly adorable he looks.

He places a hand on your waist, reeling you closer to him. "I have an idea of something more fun we could do"

"Mhm, and what is that?' you inquire.

"Let me show you" he lifts you like you weigh nothing more than a feather, settling you on his lap allowing you to straddle him.

"Remember what i said about sitting on my face? Can you do that for me pretty girl?" his fingers dance on the elastic of your underwear, waiting for your permission before he goes any further.

"Yes i can, but can i taste you today instead, gyu?" your reply catches his off guard.

"Anything you want baby" the pet name sends shivers down your spine, encouraging you to act upon your urges and pulling him into deep kiss.

You get off of his lap, knees against the hard wooden floor, ridding him of his jeans whilst he tugs his shirt off. He's so fit.

His dick bulges through his calvins, fighting against the fabric. "Look at how hard you make me pretty"

You take his cock out of his boxers, almost salivating at the sight of it. His tip is crimson, begging for relief.

You wrap your hand around his shaft, drawing it closer to your face. You lick a long strip along it, coming back up and stopping at his tip and taking it into your mouth.

Once he's past your lips, he's a groaning mess. "Fuck, you're doing so well, keep going."

You take him in further gagging around him when he's all the way in, stuffing your throat. "Good girl. So good for me, shit"

His hands pull your hair into a loose ponytail, using the light grip to guide you. You bob your head, thrusting him in and out of your mouth at a steady pace.

It doesn't take long for you to find a rhythm, but it's not enough for him. He really just wants to be inside your cunt, so to speed up the process, "Can I fuck your throat baby?" his voice drops a few octaves down, losing himself in pleasure.

You nod in response, and that's all the confirmation he needs to push your head closer to his pelvis. He stands up to angle his dick better, thrusting in and out of your mouth, gradually reaching his climax.

Your eyes are full of tears, mascara running down your face tipping him over the edge. "Can you handle swallowing?" he asks through broken moans making you nod again. He holds you in place, reaching all the way down your throat where he releases his load.

He reaches out to hold your hand, pulling you to your feet, flush against his body into a kiss. "You're unreal".

He sits both of you back onto the couch in your previous position. "Please fuck me" you whimper out, too horny to care about how desperate that must've sounded.

"So bold" he smirks "Well, as my lady wishes"

He works on removing your bottoms while you unbutton the silk pajama shirt you're wearing. When you're finally stripped out of your clothes, he's in awe at the revelation of what you'd been hiding underneath.

"You're gonna be my demise" is the last thing he utters before yanking your panties to the side, lifting you to align your cunt with his cock, and slowly sinking you down on it.

You moan in unison at the feeling of the initial stretch. It feels like he's breaking you in two in the most divine way possible.

"Fuck, y/n nobody else can ever feel you like this."

"I'm yours mingyu, fuck!" you manage to whine out.

He holds your hips to slam you onto his dick. His free hand creeps up to your neck, choking you slightly as he fucks into you. It drives you insane, feeling him all the way inside you near your cervix. At some point, his cock really does kiss your cervix, causing you to sob out from the overwhelming pleasure mixed with that unfamiliar pain.

He doesn't fail to hit the spongy tissue in you even once. He changes position, laying you on your back with his hand still on your throat. Your vision suddenly blurs, a mix of white and stars clouds your mind with your eyes sealing shut.

You're squirting. All over him at that.

"Holyyy fuck," Mingyu groans out. "Y/n, fuck you're gonna make me cum" "Cum-" Youre interrupted by a wave of your orgasm crashing through your body "-in me"

And so he does. This might have been the hottest thing mingyu has ever experienced.

"You're clenching down on me so hard, fuck. oh fuck-" The overstimulation from his relentless thrusts sends you both over the edge.

"The couch" he says followed by an airy laugh, but you couldn't really care less about the mess right now.

"You have officially ruined me" you whisper with a fucked out smile.

"Good." he smiles back. his eyes linger on where you connect, pulling out of you and admiring the sight of his cum dripping out of you. "Fuck, can I take a picture of this?"

"Sure, just dont show it to anyone" his eyes sparkle at your response.

"It's cute that you think i'd share you" he uses two fingers to plunge into your tight, dripping hole and fucks his cum back into you. "so pretty" he pulls his phone out, snapping a picture of the image he's already embedded into his mind.

"Let's go clean you up"

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊

A/N: this is a rewrite of one of my most popular one shots :] i intend to turn this into a series and the first version of it felt a little to scrappy for a chapter one! i hope you enjoy!

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[archangeldyke-all]

Desperately need my wife Sevika to hold me by the throat while she fucks me all slow and deep until i’m squirming and whining. Bonus points if she doesn’t let me move too much and tells me how pretty my pussy looks around her strap-

but i’m totally calm about her what do you all mean- i’m totally normal and calm.

- Pythia

ooooooh my god. i' mso normal.

men and minors dni

"sev-- 's too big!" you whine, desperately clawing at the sheets as you try to scoot away from your wife.

sevika grins and tugs your hips back down the bed, forcing you to take her to the hilt. she growls and you squeak, moaning and blubbering as she starts fucking you mercilessly. "quit squirming, baby, 'm tryna make you feel good."

you shiver, your words lost to the feeling of sevika stretching you out. she's smiling sweetly down at you like she's not ruining you right now, gently pecking your calf where it rests on her shoulder while her hands claw at your hips hard enough for you to be certain you're bleeding.

"you're ridiculous." she giggles eventually, her eyes fondly watching your cunt stretch around her strap. you just moan. "actin' like you can't take it-- like you weren't fuckin' beggin' for it ten minutes ago-- i know you baby. 'd you forget? i know how much you can take. i know how to make you scream--" you cut her off with just that-- a loud wail filling the bedroom when sevika starts rubbing your clit as she continues pounding inside you. sevika lets out a cocky little chuckle. "i know how much you fuckin' like it."

"sev, sevika!" you squawk, trying again to run away from her as she rearranges your guts.

"quit squirming." she grunts, smacking your ass. you whimper.

"can't help it! you're in my stomach!"

"'s it hurt?"

"n-no but--" the moment the word leaves your lips sevika's smile gets even eviler, and she stops her hips movements only to quickly rearrange your limbs, wrapping your legs around her hips, using one hand to keep you clinging to her, while the other trails up your body, briefly pausing to pinch your tits, before wrapping around your throat.

the moment she starts squeezing, you start to cum.

sevika cackles as she fucks you through your first orgasm, letting go of your throat long enough for you to gasp a breath of air, before ducking down and kissing you.

it's more like she's fucking your throat with her tongue-- just grunting into your open mouth as her hand cradles your jaw gently, greatly juxtaposing the way she's fucking into you.

"fuck, i wanna get you pregnant." sevika huffs against your lips. you whimper. "you're just so fuckin' cute, i can't fuckin' help myself. wanna ruin you."

"you are." you moan out eventually-- finally catching your breath from your last orgasm. sevika hums happily.

"'s good?" she asks.

"fuckin' perfect." you sigh. "fuck, sev, i love you so much. 'y fuck me so good."

"i know baby." sevika sighs happily, leaning back down to kiss you sweetly before she starts hammering into you again. you gasp. "i know." sevika repeats.

she brings her hand back around your throat, holding you in place while she starts to chase her own pleasure, her eyes locked on you, tracking every twitch and jump she pulls from you, her smile growing when your thigh starts to spasm as you get close.

"you gonna cum?" she asks. you nod underneath her. sevika grins. "fuck, me too. i dunno how you do it-- y' get me so fuckin' worked up baby, just watching you be all pretty, fuck-- shit, i'm gonna knock you up."

"sevika!" you sputter. she giggles.

"go ahead, baby. cum all over my cock and i'll fill you up with my babies."

you gasp and cum again, and the moment you do, sevika groans and collapses on top of you, cumming deep inside of you while you cling to her.

"fuck." you giggle. sevika snorts in your throat.

"fuck." she agrees. "shit, baby, you had my fuckin' legs shaking this entire time y' feel so fuckin' good. gimmie five minutes to catch my breath 'n we're goin' again." sevika sighs, settling in on top of you for a cat nap. you burst into laughter.

"sevika, you can't sleep inside me!"

"why not?" she asks, pouting down at you. you snort.

"'cause five minutes'll turn into two hours and then we'll wake up and you'll've been inside me for half the day. i'm not trying to be that sore tomorrow."

sevika huffs and reaches out for her phone, tapping a few buttons before throwing it on the other side of the bed. "there. i set a timer. happy?" she asks.

you grin. "deliriously."

sevika's responding smile is so sweet it gives you butterflies.

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[casually-eat-my-soul]

I keep thinking about jealous pining desperate Stiles and Derek

But like specifically Stiles Seeing Derek kiss someone else.

Stiles goes to visit Derek at his loft and he walks into a scene from a hallmark movie. Derek is kissing some random women under fairy lights to the back drop of a sunset. Stiles feels like someone plunged their hand through his heart and infected with body with ice. He genuinely feels sick to his stomach.

Derek looks down at said person with a soft smile, thinking that this time he can be safe. Before turning and seeing Stiles. They lock eyes and stiles is so visibly distraught. Like in the “where’s my dad scene”. One tear sliding down his face, hands clenched, grasping at his chest as if to rip his heart out.

And Derek knows he fucked up, but he doesn’t know how. All he sees is Stiles in distress and he needs to fix it. Stiles base scent has changed in a split second, now deeply intertwined with misery. He immediately moves from his love interest towards Stiles. But Stiles won’t let Derek comfort him. When Derek grasps his wrists, He tries to pull away.

Stiles is inconsolable at this point, choking on his sobs, barely able to breathe, barely able to see. This only makes Derek more desperate, he’s trying to pull stiles into a hug but Stiles keeps fighting him. Derek’s mind is racing with an explain on why stiles is falling apart in front of him. He thinks of Scott and the sheriff, praying that they are both still alive. He’s now genuinely begging stiles to let him help, to tell him what’s wrong, but stiles keeps pushing Derek away.

Derek’s love interest moves to help but stiles screams when she touches him. In his shock Derek stumbles away from Stiles, but not before ripping her arm off of Stiles.

The room freezes as the both of them are just staring at each other, stiles still sobbing, Derek shaking with adrenaline or fear he doesn’t know. Before Stiles turns and runs out of his loft.

And then nothing is like it used to be. Not like the summer they spent together, not even like the days of when they first met. Stiles is so different with him. Derek can’t remember the last time he saw stiles smile, or his eyes. All he can see is the eyebags that match his own and bitten bloody lips. He barely speaks to Derek and when he does is tone is soft and flat. They no longer banter back and forth with each other exchanging friendly insults. He is a ghost of the stiles that Derek knew.

Stiles doesn’t reach out and touch him anymore, not in camaraderie or comfort. Derek’s skin is devoid of stiles scent. His scent hasn’t changed from that night, now overcome with depression, pain, and tears. But even so Derek would still prefer to carry it with him. Derek feels like he is watching stiles die.

And Derek is ripping his hair out of his skull. He going insane. He has tried to talk to stiles but at meetings Stiles wouldn’t even look at him, and the Stilinski house has been lined with wolfsbane.

He goes to Scott and Lydia for advice, or understanding, fuck at this point he’d even take a stupid riddle. But scott just twists his lips in disappointment while Lydia glares at him with more hatred than she does Peter. Which is really saying something.

Derek is getting more frantic as days pass and nothing changes. It’s starting to affect the pack. The betas are more snappy and uncomfortable. Derek, himself is having a had time keeping his shift under control. Anger isn’t helping, if only it’s making it worse, more feral.

This costs Derek.

One night when the pack is fighting the next big bad. Derek’s sleepless nights and being distracted nearly gets him killed. He only wishes he could go back to that day, he would spend it, from sunrise to sunset with Stiles. Just making him laugh and smile.

The last thing he sees before he collapses is Stiles eyes in the moonlight, glistening with tears, same as that night. Beautiful all the same. But still Derek smiles. He is at peace knowing that this will be the last thing he sees.

But he wakes up, and all he has of stiles is traces of his scent on his skin. Derek roars in anguish. He can feel his betas trying to hold him down, he can hear them screaming but it all fades to white noise. He understands nothing at this current moment but loss. His wolf won’t stop howling.

He doesn’t fight the pull of the wolf, as he falls under his instincts. At the back of his head he knows that the people he is fighting are his pack mate, his own betas. The smell of blood affronts his senses. But nothing can be felt but violent grief.

The wolves in his den are wary and hesitant to fight him, as they should be. He can hear more wolves coming, and the deafening heartbeat of prey. He snarls at the prey that moves closer to him, fulling intending the go for the kill. As he pounces on the prey pressing him to the ground, teeth reaching to sink into his neck, he feels Stiles hands on his chest and he stops. The scent of Stiles is all around him, and Derek presses his face to his neck. Keeping Stiles pinned to the ground.

Thus way stiles cannot escape, cannot leave Derek grappling with the thought of losing him. Another wolf tries to get closer, reaching for stiles but Derek snarls at him. Stiles talks to the wolf, —

“Don’t worry about it Scotty, I got it from here”

“You sure dude?”

“Yeah, take the wonder trio and get out of here. We’re good.”

— as Derek pulls him into his lap, face still pressed into the junction between neck and shoulder. Not even willing to miss even the vibrations of Stiles voice. The wolves leave and Derek can finally relax and enjoy the presence of Stiles.

Derek feels overwhelmed, after weeks of not interacting with Stiles he is now surrounded by him. His hands run through Derek’s hair, his voice floats in the air, his scent finally intermingling with his own. This idea of losing the heat of stiles body pressed against his, makes Derek pull stiles even closer.

He doesn’t know how long they sit together but when he comes out of the fog. Derek breaks. A complete reversal of the night he lost stiles. Derek is crying in ernest, pleading and apologizing over and over again. Stiles is hesitant when he places his hands on Derek cheek. But when Derek leans into it Stiles begins to wipe the tears from his face.

They both face each other with open expressions. Stiles struggles to finds words to explain to Derek but all he can get out is a broken repeat of Derek’s own apology.

Derek felt as if his heart couldn’t know anymore pain, but as Stiles choked out an apology he could feel another piece break. Derek was just relived that stiles was finally letting him comfort him. Derek pressed their foreheads together and took a deep breath. Waiting for stiles to following along with his breathing. When they both calmed down stiles Slumped exhausted into his chest. With a heavy limbs Derek picked him up and carried him to the bed. Derek’s bed.

Neither of them need to speak durning this time. Derek was reluctant to set Stiles down, to let go for even a second. Instead he settled for watching Stiles as they both undressed and fell into the bed. Finally after weeks of sleepless nights, unrest and nightmares, they both full asleep wrapped in each others arms.

Derek refuse to open his eyes when he awakes. Afraid that when he does, Stiles will be gone and this would be a cruel dream. So he keeps them closed even when he hear Stiles breathe hitch. Even as he hears his heartbeat pick up. Even as stiles trails his fingers over Derek’s face. But he does open them as stiles presses a kiss to his lips.

Derek kisses him back just as fiercely. And this leads to teary confessions — “Don’t fucking lie to me Derek please, I can’t take it, don’t fucking kiss me out of pity.”

“Never out of pity, Mi Vida, I never wish to part from you even again, I love you, Mieczyslaw, truly. I can finally breathe again.” — They spend the day in bed, only leaving to eat. Even then they are always touching the other in some way.

After this Scott and Lydia pull Derek aside and threaten him with extreme violence. Peter joyfully welcomes stiles to the family.

(Honestly this was a whole train wreck. I also had another idea/version where this was happening during the nogistune. Where Stiles goes over to Derek’s loft as the darkness around his heart fills heavier that day and he sees Derek kiss someone else. The this is what finally pushes stiles over and allows the nogistune to fully take over. And Derek is forced to listen to the fox gleefully tell him that this action nearly broke Stiles. That while turning feral Derek has to learn that his actions cost him another person he loves. That because of this stiles and Derek are turning into twisted version of themselves. But honestly a fox should have never underestimated how far a wolf would go for their mate)

My bad for the long post but if you made it to the end, welcome to the trenches and suffering in the misery with me.

[chxrryhxrt]

Draw stars around my scars, part 2 - Remus Lupin x Female Reader

Read part 1 here!

Synopsis: Many weeks had passed since the most recent full moon, yet James and Sirius still will not let you see Remus. What could they be hiding?

Warnings: angst, fluff at the end, swearing, mentions of injuries

After you made your visit to Remus that night, things briskly returned to the way they had been: him locked away in the infirmary, still recovering, and you left to your own devices, with only homework and classes to keep you occupied.

The feelings of betrayal and confusion did not come and go with the days as you might expect – rather they flooded you, engulfing every facet of your life and though you knew it was pitiful, you could not find it within yourself to just ‘get over it’. This was the advice Sirius had insightfully bestowed upon you when he found you in the common room the morning after, clearly having heard about the altercation from Remus himself.

It was common knowledge that Sirius was not the most well-versed in emotions – you could ask anyone on campus, and they would be able to tell you that, but that was not what upset you about his ‘pep talk’.

What did it for you was that Remus had spoken to Sirius about you. You were aware it sounded silly, but who were you if not the person that Remus shared everything with? You had been there for him in fourth year when he got a low score on his potions exam, consoling him and vowing to keep it a secret between the two of you. Ever since you learnt of his lycanthropy, you had spent the days after full moons making sure that he was comfortable and safe.

In essence, you knew everything there was about Remus Lupin, and in turn, he knew everything about you. So, to find out that he had just shared your private business with Sirius, it hurt. You did not care if they were best friends: it hurt – plain and simple.

Despite all of this, you pushed through, burying it in the confines of your heart and focussing on school.

Now a week on, your feet carried you to class, sending echoes down the corridor with each strike of your shoes against the worn stone ground. Almost late, you rounded the corner to your lesson, hurried pace unfaltering – until you heard a familiar voice up ahead.

Getting closer now, he came into your view, standing outside the room with Professor McGonagall.

“I am assured you understand the work you must catch up on?” She inquired, shuffling a small stack of paperwork together, before passing them over to the boy opposite her.

“Yes, Professor,” he smiled, accepting the sheets into his hands, “I’ll try to have it all finished by the end of the week.”

“Wonderful, I do hope that you’re feeling better.” She turned on her heel, passing through into her classroom, leaving Remus alone and you standing at the other end of the corridor.

His gaze flickered over, noticing the fidgeting of your silhouette in his periphery. As his eyes met your own and his hand shakily rose to obscure his lower face, the air in your throat hitched and your brows knitted together. 


You remained like this for a short, bittersweet moment – relieved to see that he was doing okay, although confused as to why he was shielding his face, but still indescribably agonised as you recalled what had happened the last time you saw him.

Rashly deciding that you could not bear to stay put any longer, lest you say something to him, you resumed your dash down the hall and ducked past Remus, into the classroom and collapsed in your seat, books firmly thudding onto the ink-stained table.

Only seconds after your loud entrance, he slipped in too, sitting wedged between Sirius and James on the other side of the room.

As you spent the next sixty minutes jotting down notes on transfiguration, the sound of quills on parchment and Professor McGonagall’s lecture filled the class. Though you tried to concentrate, thoughts of Remus incessantly flooded the forefront of your mind.

Upset as you were, you could not help but yearn to see his face entirely again. He had become a familiar pillar in your life over the years at Hogwarts, with there almost never being a day where he was not by your side. Having not seen him properly since before the full moon was slowly killing you.

Awkwardly, your neck twisted around, cracking slightly as you leant back to peer behind the Hufflepuff seated next to you. There he was: hunched over his desk, scrawling away, ever the academic. Continuing to stare, you took in his slightly dishevelled appearance. His sleeves were pulled as far down as they could go, yet bandages still managed to peek out of the bottoms. His hair was flecked with gold, falling messily over his forehead like always, except a new pink ribbon of a scratch descended from his hairline, travelling diagonally down across his face. The wound finished just above the corner of his mouth, which twitched as he paused to think.

Placing your palms onto your table, you braced yourself to quietly turn back around. Success almost befell you, but alas, James caught sight of you at the last moment, reaching behind Remus to prod Sirius, gesturing silently towards you.

Scoffing, you snatched up your pen and prepared to carry on with your note taking.

Having gotten a good look at him, you found it easy to hazard a guess at the cause of his hostility that night in the infirmary. Never in your six years of knowing Remus Lupin did you get the impression that he was self-assured, confident, or felt anything other than insecure. So, you could safely assume that this new scar was the source of several new insecurities itself.

Either way, just because he was feeling glum did not give him an excuse to be rude to you. Not when you had blatantly expressed your unconditional love for him and worked so tirelessly to bring communication into your relationship.

You told Lily this currently, the two of you curled up on a twin pair of armchairs in the Gryffindor common room.

“I completely agree,” she sympathised, tucking her feet underneath her, “if James spoke to me like that, we would be having some serious words.”

“I’m really glad you understand,” you smiled tightly, running your fingers through your hair, “I just feel like, insanely petty? I do want to talk to Remus, but I want it to be him that initiates the conversation, not me.”

“I hate for my advice to be so useless, but I think he just needs time. He really does care for you, he’ll come around eventually.” She leant forward in her seat to place a hand on your forearm, soothing the skin there in a show of comfort.

Aware that she was right; you nodded and hummed your agreement.

“If it’s any consolation, James said that Remus has been a miserable old bag since he had that go at you,” Lily offered, retracting her arm back into her lap. You supposed it did help a little, to know that he was feeling awful too.

“Actually, that’s a relief to hear-“ you went to respond, but found yourself interrupted as James bolted into the common room, calling your name.

Unsure of what to do with yourself, you shot the girl opposite you a panicked look – debating between either running away or hiding somewhere nearby. Anyone who was anyone knew that when James Potter came knocking, it did not end well.

Too caught up in planning an escape route, you were soon hunted down by the boy, as you looked up to see a second year pointing in your direction. Scowling, you accepted your fate and sat up rigid in your chair, preparing yourself for what was to come.

He patted the younger student on the back as thanks and picked his pace back up, lightly jogging towards you both.

‘Hi Lily.” He simpered; eyes full of adoration as he glanced at her. “Sorry to interrupt you two lovely ladies, but I need you to come with me really quick.” He huffed, out of breath, as his gaze shifted over to your figure.

Although he lacked his usual mischievous smirk, you remained apprehensive to place any trust in him. Whilst he had not done anything wrong himself, he was friends with Remus, who decidedly had done something very wrong. So, you were almost obligated not to follow him, simply by proxy.

It seemed that he could tell what you were thinking, as his hands clasped together in front of him, and he began to do what could only be described as begging.

“Please,” he started, shaking his arms at you, “it’ll be like, ten minutes maximum. I just need you to come help me with some,” he looked away, “homework.”

Still unconvinced, you looked back over to Lily, who only contributed a small shrug to the conversation. You both knew James well, and you both knew he would not leave unless forced. In this moment, you realised your only real choice was to do what he asked, because Merlin knows you were not in the mood to physically remove your best friend’s boyfriend from the room.

You reluctantly peeled yourself off the armchair, trailing behind as he led the way.

 In the back of your mind, you knew that he did not need help with his homework. Even though he and Sirius spent most of their free time pranking other pupils, they rarely struggled with the workload given to them by teachers. It was a miracle really, that either of them should even be passing classes, let alone excelling in them.

As the pair of you passed through the dimly lit hallways, evening moonlight poured through the windows, offering slightly more illumination than the sconces could on their own. There was a soft pattering of people hurrying by, headed to the Great Hall for dinner.

You wove between the bustling crowd, being taken deeper into the East Wing. You neared the less frequently used classrooms and began to wonder what James truly needed from you. It clearly was not help with academics, since you could have assisted him with that back in the common room.

He came to a halt outside a room you had never noticed before, its door tucked tightly between the cobbled pillars that sat on each side. His palm reached out, face up and his fingers wiggled unbecomingly.

“Before we go inside, I need you to give me your wand,” he urged, hand writhing even more as he posed his request.

You began to pull your wand out of your pocket, but a wave of sanity washed heavily over you, clutching it firmly in your fist.

“Why do you need it?” you pried, suspicions rising rapidly.

“Doesn’t matter,” he tried, hand making a grabby gesture, “I just need it.”

“Well, that’s not a good enough reason, is it?”

“Just,“ he lunged at you, successfully swiping the wand from your grip, “give it here!”

Left bewildered and frustrated by the childish grin that adorned his face, you huffed. You did not remain like this for long however, as James grabbed your hand and pulled you into the room with him, hinges screeching as the door opened and shut behind you.

The new surroundings were underwhelming. Desks lined the sides of the room, pushed up against the walls, dust sheets draped over them. There were few windows, leaving the area significantly darker than the corridor you had just found yourself in. Apart from this, the room was virtually empty – except for Remus and Sirius, who stood front and centre, Remus with a dejected look on his face, and Sirius with an irritatingly smug one.

Obviously proud with himself, he stepped forward, standing assertively between you and Remus, clearing his throat obnoxiously.

“You’re probably wondering why I gathered you all here today,” he announced to the chamber, “and I can tell you, it’s because I am absolutely exhausted with Moons here being a pain in my arse.”

Even in the poor lighting, you saw a frown flicker across his features at that, but he did not try to protest it.

“Just ‘cause you two are having a lover’s tiff-“ he pointed accusatorily at the both of you, “-does not mean that poor old James and I need to suffer as well.”

He started to move towards the exit, pulling his wand out of his pocket.

“I’m going to lock this door, and we’re going to leave the two of you to make up,” he explained slowly, “we’ll come back in an hour – if you guys haven’t sorted it out by then, we’ll leave you here until the morning, which means no dinner for either of you.”

It was normally hilarious when he got like this, all attitude and condescension, but the idea of being locked away with Remus overshadowed the funniness of the moment, and you contemplated begging to be let out.

Your mind raced with confliction. As much as you wanted a chance to speak with Remus, you had wanted it to be of his own volition. Locking him away and forcing him to speak with you felt a little unfair. Then again, you were not the one who planned this elaborate scheme.

Neither of you had the chance to say anything, as Sirius and James swiftly left the room, the door clicking shut behind the pair of them.

Not seeing the use in delaying it any longer, you turned to face Remus properly for the first time in over a week and a half. He offered a small smile, clearly finding this just as awkward as you did.  

“Um,” he mumbled, looking away from you.

You felt daft, as if you lacked a backbone, because that was all it took for you to begin to empathise with him again. Even though the derelict class had little to no light in it, he still could not bring himself to risk showing you his new scar, worried you would hate it - hate him.

Though you loved him dearly and would not change a thing about him for the world, you only wished he could be more confident in himself. He was nothing but gorgeous and you intended on telling him that right now.

“I saw your new scar,” you jumped straight in, noticing how his body stiffened, “I think it suits you – gives you a rugged look, it’s nice, kind of handsome, too.”

Only semi convinced, he turned to meet your gaze, responding with a shy, “You think so?”

“I know so,” you beamed, overjoyed to be talking to him again.

“That’s really kind of you to say, considering I was so rude to you,” he admitted.

You chose to let him continue, anxious to see what else he had to say.

“I just- I just wasn’t ready for you to see me, especially not like that, all bandaged up and helpless,” he swallowed thickly, “but I know that doesn’t mean I can just run around being a dickhead the people I love, I’m really truly sorry.”

You stepped closer, reaching your hands out for his.

“I should’ve respected your privacy, Rem, I’m sorry too.”

His arms tugged you in closer, enveloping you in a tight embrace with his palms running lengths along your back.

"It’s okay, next time I’ll tell Sirius and James to be honest about it with you, instead of letting them make up silly excuses,” he chuckled slightly.

“Actually, that did upset me a bit.”

“What did? The excuses?”  

“No,” you paused for thought, “when you told Sirius about our little spat, I don’t know, I just felt a bit betrayed, usually I’m the one you tell everything to and I wasn’t used to Sirius knowing all this stuff about us,” you answered honestly, voice soft and gentle as not to break the tranquil moment.

“Oh, you’re so sweet, aren’t you?” he replied, no malice in his tone, just humour as his palms moved to hold your face, “you’re my number one – always have been, always will be.”

His eyes searched yours, and in that instant, you knew everything would be okay.

Tags:

@moonpascaltoo @wonderlandwalker @simp-for-fiction @allllium @too-lameforyou @kenqki @queenanababy @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @tomsspidermangf @777heavengirl @oyeahwatchme @maccapacks

Tagging some people who I think might be interested in part 2! Thank you so much for reading 🫶🫶

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15 , PART 16 , PART 17 , PART 18 , PART 19 , PART 20 , PART 21 , PART 22 , PART 23 , PART 24 , PART 25 , PART 26 , PART 27

In Merlin's chambers.

Merlin: (pacing, anxious and worried)

Gaius: (enters)

Merlin: (turns to Gaius quickly) How is he? Is he going to be okay?

Gaius: (serious) The King had a seizure, but he's stable now. He should be awake by tomorrow morning.

Merlin: (sighs in relief) Thank the gods!

Gaius: Now sit down (takes Merlin to the bed and sits him) I need to check your bruise.

Merlin: There's no need. It's not serious.

Gaius: (sharply) I know. But these are Prince's orders. (Checks Merlin's cheek) It's a bit swollen, but you'll live. (Puts ointment on the bruise) This should do. Now... (Very serious) What happened?

Merlin: (ashamed) I... I think I pissed him off so bad he collapsed.

Gaius: I figured, Merlin. Uther hit you. It's not difficult to put two and two together. What I need to know is WHAT did you do to piss Uther off so bad he collapsed.

Merlin: (more ashamed, mumbles) I...deny but-then he-and I...

Gaius: Merlin I need every detail, word by word what exactly did you tell the King, so I can find a way to defend you.

Merlin tells him exactly what happened and Gaius hears every word patiently, even when he feels the need to yell at Merlin every 30 seconds for how insolent and reckless Merlin had been.

Gaius: (after Merlin finishes) Alright... There's no way to defend you.

Merlin: What?! 😰

Gaius: You did not only defy the King's authority and raise your voice at him, you mocked him and insulted him! What were you thinking?!😡

Merlin: I don't know! I did what you said: deny, be submissive, be respectful, but he still believed I was guilty and then he said he would send me away from Arthur and I just... got mad!

Gaius: You should've been grateful Uther just wanted to send you away! You'll be lucky if he even grants you a quick and painless death now! You think that Uther is Arthur and will put up with your disrespect? He is the King!

Merlin: I know! I just.. forgot it for a moment. (sighs) I'll pack my things.

Gaius: Why?

Merlin: You said there was no way to defend me, so I'm leaving, like Uther sentenced.

Gaius: (lets out a dry laugh) You really don't get it, do you?

Merlin: (confused) What?

Gaius: How bad you really messed up! (stands up abruptly and moves his hands around as he talks in distress) When I told you'll be lucky if Uther grants a quick and painless death now, I meant it! Everyone thinks you tried to kill the King! And, honestly, I don't blame them. You were alone with the King when he "fainted" and have a fighting mark on your face. If I didn't know you, I would've believe it too. And you do realise that's the worst crime someone can be accused of, right?

Merlin: (pales) But I didn't-And Uther knows I-

Gaius: You think that with how paranoid he has been he won't think you provoque this seizure on him on purpose?

Merlin: ...

Gaius: Once Uther wakes up, you'll be enemy of the crown. You'll be hunted down so bad, not even outside Camelot you'll be safe. And when they get you... (his voice wavers, not able to say it, and sits on the bed again, defeated)

Merlin: But... I'm sure Arthur can do some-

Gaius: Arthur! Even he understands the gravity of the situation more than you do. Do you know where is the prince now?

Merlin: Looking after his father. Where else could he be?

Gaius: ...

Merlin: That's where he is, right?

Gaius: ...

Merlin: Gaius, where is Arthur?

Arthur in a reunion with all his Knights.

Arthur: I won't force you to participate. If your loyalty lays more with Uther than with me, I completely understand. He is still the King after all. But I need to know who will be on my side.

Merlin: (enters) Arthur! (runs to him)

Sir Innprudence: (murmurs) The apple of discord has arrived.

Sir Leon: (hits him, whispering) Silence!

Merlin: Tell me is not truth. Tell me you are not planning to overthrow the king!

Arthur: Alright, I won't tell you.

Merlin: Arthur!

Sir Ewan: (murmuring) Like he didn't plan this from the beginning.

Sir Leon: (whispers) Really? You too?

Sir Ewan: (whispers back) Is his fault we are about to do a rebellion! To think we defended him. But now we know what he is. A poisonous snake-

Merlin: You can't overthrow your own father, are you mad?! I won't let you!

Sir Owain: Listen to him, Sire!

Sir Ewan: Yes, he's talking nothing but reason!

Sir Leon: (whispers to Ewan) Didn't you just say he was a poisonous snake?

Sir Ewan: (whispers back) What are you talking about? I'd never talk bad about The Unicorn Catcher.

Arthur: Don't be ridiculous, Merlin. I'm not really overthrowing my father.

Merlin: You are not? 😧

Arthur: You think I'd take my father's throne by force when he's unconscious and therefore incapable of defending himself in any way? That's not just treason, is dishonorable!

Merlin: (sighs in relief)

Arthur: This is just a back up plan.

Merlin: A back up plan?

Arthur: Yes, my first plan is to try to talk him out of executing you as soon as he wakes up. If he forgives your life, everything will be solved.

Merlin: ... And if he doesn't?

Arthur: That's what the back up plan is for. 😊

Merlin: ...

Knights: ...

Sir Innprudence: Rebellion it is.😔

Merlin: You can't be serious. Arthur, you know Uther won't forgive me!

Arthur: (in denial) Don't be so negative, Merlin. I can try to persuade him. It might work.

Merlin: Arthur-

Arthur: This is just a last resort! If he doesn't see reason, I'll challenge him into a duel-

Merlin: Arthur-

Arthur: If he doesn't accept the duel, i'll ask the court for their support-

Merlin: Arthur-

Arthur: And if I don't have enough support-

Merlin: (shouts) You won't have it! Why would the court help you save the life of a servant? Especially one that is suspected of trying to kill the King! You can't ascend the throne this way. Your legitimacy to the throne will be questioned and your reputation ruined! It's outrageous enough that you are even considering this. He is your father!

Arthur: (shouts) I WON'T LET HIM TAKE YOU FROM ME!

Merlin: ...

Arthur: For years he made feel unworthy of his love. He made me feel guilty for my mother's death since I was a kid. I did EVERYTHING to get his approval. I trained hard, I isolated myself with tones of books, went to quests, I killed in his name! And then what does he do? Insult me, hit me, imprison me and take every piece of happiness I have! He sacked my first nursemaid because she was too soft on me, he killed my first hunting dog because I was getting too attached to it. "Don't show weakness Arthur, why are you crying Arthur? The darkness of the dungeons scares you? Stop acting like a baby, you are turning 8 tomorrow!"

Merlin: (covers his mouth with his hands, wide eye)

Kinghts: (just as shocked) ...

Arthur: I tolerated him a lot of things. But not this. Not with you. I won't let him take my happiness once more!

Merlin: (thinking in awe and emotional) He... he considers me part of his happiness? 🥺

Arthur and Merlin: (get lost in each other's eyes)

Knights: ...

Sir Innprudence: (coughs) Well, the rebellion is not going to make itself.

Leon: (hits him with his elbow and mutters) They were having a moment! (aloud) You can count on me, Sire.

Sir Owain: And me!

Sir Ewan: And me!

Sir Innprudence: Yeah, we already escaped the dungeons. What's another rebellious act?

Leon: (lifting his sword) For the love of Camelot!

All Knights: For the love of the Prince!

Time skip. In Gaius Tower.

Merlin: (enters, very serious)

Gaius: Did you convince the Prince of not doing the rebellion?

Merlin: In fact, he convinced me.

Gaius: What?

Merlin: Did you know Uther put Arthur in dungeons as a punishment when he was 8? Or should I say since?

Gaius: ... Where is this coming from?

Merlin: (barely contained anger) You knew, didn't you? You knew and you didn't do anything!

Gaius: I did what I could! I can't very well confront the king about his parenting methods, Merlin. Unlike you, I know my place.

Merlin: Parenting methods? That's abuse! He was just a child! And I... (thinking) I never noticed. Those times Uther sent Arthur and Morgana to the dungeons, I just assumed they were isolated cases. But they were routine for them. How much did I actually miss in my other life?

Gaius: Uther wasn't the best father, I won't deny that. But does he deserves to lose his crown for that? Besides, this is not just about him. A rebellion will put the life of many at stake. Blood will be spilled. Do you want that on your conscience? On Arthur's conscience?

Merlin: No! Of course not. But if Uther hasn't been a shitty father, Arthur's mind wouldn't be as set as it is now. He killed his dog for gods' sake!

Gaius: What does that has to do with anything?

Merlin: Arthur is not doing this because of me. Apparently this was just the last straw. (thinking) Though it's odd he never reacted like this in my other life. He never thought of doing a rebellion when Uther wanted to kill Gwen. And Arthur always thought high of Uther even years after he died. What changed to make Arthur stop idolizing his father so soon?

Gaius: The last straw? YOU were the last straw! 😡 You and your audacity, your boldness, your lack of self-preservation-

Merlin: I get it, I get it. This is all my fault. You can scold me and ground me all you want later. Now we need solutions. How can we stop Arthur from doing the rebellion?

Gaius: Honestly, Merlin, sending you to talk him out of it was the only hope I had.

Merlin: (thoughtful) Hmmm... Maybe... there wouldn't be a need for a rebellion if...

Gaius: If?

Merlin: (hesitantly) Uther weren't to wake up?

Gaius: (escandalized) Merlin! Are you suggesting to kill the King? 😱

Merlin: No! Never! I wouldn't do that to Arthur! But you must admit it would solve a lot of thing-

Gaius: Shut your mouth! You are speaking treason! Those words alone could get you hanged!

Merlin: I'm pretty much dead now, Gaius. But you're right, I shouldn't joke with those things. (thoughtful again) What can we do?

Gaius: (brings a hand to his chest) You're going to make my heart leave my body one of these days, I swear.

Merlin: (gets an idea) Leave! That's it! (makes a move to leave)

Gaius: (stops him) Where are you going?

Merlin: I'm going to pack my things and leave Camelot. 😊

Gaius: You think running away from your problems is going to solve anything?

Merlin: No, but it'll keep Arthur busy.

Gaius: ...What?

Merlin: Here's the plan. Hear me out. Arthur told me he didn't want Uther to take me from him because I'm part of his happiness. (smiles a little, blushing)

Gaius: Really, Merlin? This is not the time for blushing.

Merlin: I'm not-It's good to feel appreciated sometimes. Anyways, this means Arthur cares enough for me to look for me if I'm gone, right?

Gaius: I would say that more than enough, actually, but yes.

Merlin: So if I leave and hide, Arthur will be too busy trying to find me that he won't have time to organize his rebellion. There, problem solved!

Gaius: That's your great plan. Playing hide and seek with the Prince.

Merlin: Yep. 😊

Gaius: Yes, he'd probably go nuts looking for you, just as he probably would speed up the rebellion in the hope that you will return as soon as the threat is over.

Merlin: ...

Merlin: Okay, I didn't think of that.

Gaius: (sighs)

Merlin: You are not giving me many ideas either, Gaius!

Gaius: Well, for now, I'll do the only thing I can. (picks up a potion and starts leaving)

Merlin: What are you going to do?

Gaius: (defeated) Delay the inevitable. To buy you some time.

Merlin: (keeps looking at Gaius, confused)

Gaius: (sighs) I'm going to drug the King. (leaves)

Time skip. Emergency reunion in Morgana's chambers with Merlin, Gwen and Lancelot.

Lancelot: Arthur even asked me to join the knights in the rebellion.

Gwen: He seems pretty determined, Merlin. Reasoning or trying to sweet persuade him is not going to make him change his mind this time.

Merlin: I know, I tried. (sighs) There must be something we can do!

Morgana: (enters) Sorry, I'm late. Someone had to look after Uther. (gives Merlin a look)

Merlin: (guilty) Morgana-

Morgana: Don't. I know you didn't mean for any of this to happen. And I don't blame you, truly. If I told you all the times Uther made me lose my temper.

Merlin: Yeah, the difference is no one would ever believe you tried to kill the King because of that.

Gwen: There are still many Unicorn Catcher defenders between the servants if that's any consolation to you.

Merlin: It is not. (to Morgana, hopeful) You think you can convince Arthur of not doing this?

Morgana: You think I haven't tried? I even told him he would hurt Uther less if he killed him in his sleep rather than force him to fight his own son in battle, that he was being a monster by doing this, but he went all "this is the honorable way" and all.

Merlin: Perfect. Unless Gaius can sedate Uther forever, we are screw.

Morgana: Have you tried seducing him? 😏

Merlin: This is not time for jokes, Morgana. 😒

Morgana: (thinking) It would work if you weren't so blind to Arthur's feelings. 🤦 (sighs and says) Fine. What about crying to him?

Merlin: Morgana, this is serious!

Morgana: I am serious! How do you think I survived Uther's strict education for so long? Crying was my way to get away with some things with Uther and avoid or reduce some of his punishments. Of course it stopped working when he realised I was faking, but my point is: Pendragons are weak to tears and Arthur is not the exception. When I first came to the castle we didn't get along well. Arthur was jealous that I had all of Uther's attention and believed he was softer on me than him. He wouldn't swordplay with me no matter how much I asked, so what do you think I did?

Merlin: ...Cry?

Morgana: I cried so hard Arthur panicked and gave me his own sword to play. There was also this time some nobel kid made me cry and Arthur kicked him in the crotch.

Gwen: Oh, I remember that! It was so funny.

Lancelot: So you are suggesting manipulation, my lady?

Morgana: I wouldn't call it manipulation. I would call it... Plan T!

Merlin: Plan T?

Morgana: T of using tears as a way to presuade Arthur.

Merlin: That's manipulation!

Morgana: Well, we're running out of options. Besides, I sincerely believe that it can work. It's very easy, just look. (purses her lips and then her eyes begin to water, until tears run down her eyes and then she cries uncontrollably)

Merlin: (worried) Morgana?

Lancelot: Are you alright, my lady?

Morgana: (suddenly stops crying and wips her tears) See? 💁‍♀️

Merlin and Lancelot: (totally shocked) ... 😨😨

Gwen: (claps) You are so talented my lady! 😊

Morgana: It's easy. You just have to hold your breath, gag with your mouth closed and then just focus on the burning in your eyes until your eyes water and, finally, you let out all the frustration in the form of tears. Once you master that, you go to Arthur like this: (goes to Gwen and kneels before her, holding her hands. Then she starts crying all over again) "Please, Arthur, stop this! It's all my fault!" (hits her chest rugly) "I've caused all this. If blood is spilled because of me, I couldn't live with myself. (clinges to Gwen's legs) If you do this, I... I'd rather... disappear!" (faints)

Merlin: ...

Lancelot: ...

Gwen: (amazed) She's good, isn't she? 😃😁

Lancelot: I'll never trust the tears of a woman ever again.

Morgana: (stands up and turns to Merlin) See? Just like that.

Merlin: Yeah, I'm not doing that.

Morgana: You have to! If Arthur notices your anguish he will reconsider.

Merlin: Why don't you do it then?

Morgana: I did and he just sent me to Gaius. The problem when you use a trick too much is that people start to build up immunity to it. Besides, this is something Arthur would expect from me, but he would never expect it from you. With you he'll really be struck down.

Merlin: But... I don't want to lie to him. (thinking) No when I can help it.

Morgana: Technically you wouldn't be lying. You feel guilty, don't you?

Merlin: Of course I do!

Morgana: Then you'd just be amplifying your feelings! Now... (pulls Merlin and puts him infront of Lancelot) Lets practice. Imagine Lancelot is Arthur.

Lancelot: What? 😰

Merlin: Morgana this is ridiculous.😒

Morgana: Want to stop the rebellion?

Merlin: Yes, but-

Morgana: Then cry to Lancelot. Now.

Merlin: (sighs and tries to use Morgana's technique, holding his breath)

Morgana: You are forgetting to gag.

Merlin: (starts to gag)

Morgana: With your mouth close!

Merlin: (tries to do that, but fails and starts coughing)

Morgana: Okay, close enough. At least your eyes are a bit watery. Now kneel and hold Lancelot's hands.

Merlin: (kneels before Lancelot and holds his hands)

Lancelot: (puts his hands away in reflex, scared)

Gwen: Lance!

Lancelot: Sorry. My survival instinct. Do we really have to hold hands?

Morgana: Yes, we have to make this as realistic as possible.

Lancelot: And the Prince won't come in at any moment?

Gwen: The doors are closed and Arthur is too busy with this whole rebellion thing. You are safe, love.

Lancelot: (blushes a little at the use of the nickname) Alright (holds Merlin's hands, though he's still tense)

Morgana: Now, Merlin, your lines.

Merlin: (uncomfortable) Uh... Please, Arthur. Stop-

Morgana: No! You have to do it with more emotion!

Merlin: (raises his voice) Please, Arthur! Stop this! Is my fault (pats his chest)

Morgana: That hand, with more force! You're desperate!

Merlin: (hits his chest harder) I've caused all this!-

Morgana: The tears! where are the tears?!

Merlin: (tries to do Morgana's technice again but ends up doing a weird face) If blood is... spilled... I.... I can't live with myself...

Gwen: Now he looks constipated.

Morgana: The legs! Hug his legs!

Merlin: (hugs Lancelot's legs awkwardly)

Morgana: Tighter! You'll die if he doesn't change his mind!

Merlin: (hugs tighter)

Lancelot: (thinking, trying not to panic) Arthur won't come in, the doors are closed, Arthur won't come in, the doors are closed, Arthur won't come in-

Merlin: If you do this I'll... ARGH! I CAN'T DO THIS! (stands up, frustrated) I CAN'T CRY! THIS IS USELESS! I... (thinking) I lost my ability to cry like that long ago. I rarely cried in years and when I did I did it silently, swallowing my tears. Not even when I believed Arthur would die I cried like this. (Says, sad) We're doomed. The rebellion will happen, people will die and it will be all my fault, because I always ruin everything somehow! Maybe the problem all this time was me. Maybe Arthur would be actually better if I just didn't exist!

Gwen: ...

Lancelot: ...

Morgana: There! You have to hold to that emotion when you cry to Arthur.

Merlin: Didn't you just hear me? I CAN'T CRY!

Morgana: That can be arranged.

Time skip. In Gaius' tower.

Merlin: (enters) Gaius.

Gaius: How was your reunion? Did you find a solution?

Merlin: (hesitanly) I think, but... I need something... from you.

Gaius: (confused) What is it that you need?

Merlin: Do you have something there that can... make someone's eyes tear like... a lot?

Gaius: I think so, but... What's the plan exactly?

Merlin: Literally cry my way out of this.

....

Will Merlin be able to cry to the prince? find out in the next episode of "Merlin: the apple of discord"

Also credits to my best friend Rosangela, who gave me most of the ideas for diolagues in this part and others too.

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @hopeaha , @curiously-lazy , @ harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus , @kinkforwings , @someweirdassnamee , @impracticalantlers , @miyriu , @hobipabo , @whitemaskcd , @cute-girl-next-door , @bogslob , @tkmaras

[sw3etnena]

Till death do us part

Summary: Votes are just words when a betrayal is discovered.

Warnings: Angst, physical aggression, torture, false betrayal, Pregnancy.

Author's notes: Let's start with an important fact, English is not my first language, if there is any spelling mistake, blame the translator! Second fact: Votes and reposts are appreciated, so please do this charity. And third fact: I know them, seriously, but I ended up running out of ideas for scenarios, so I got inspired by the Russians (since they have a history)

☆"I, Y/N/S, take thee, Simon Riley, to be my lawfully

wedded husband."☆

Ghost Husband! Who feels the world fall apart when he opens the yellow folder left on his desk, photos of you, talking and exchanging envelopes with a man he knows very well, after all, he was the one who captured him, a member of the Russian force.

He runs through the corridors, all eyes seem to be on him, but he doesn't care, clutching the envelope in his hands as he runs to the cells, where he knows you would be, where you are.

— Ghost… — Price steps in front of him, his hands holding your shoulders, Ghost can't look at him, his eyes fixed on you, hanging, hurt and almost unconscious.

— Did she betray us? — The question seems to come out bitterly, every piece of Ghost collapses when the captain nods reluctantly.

— Andrey Petrov. He confessed things that only she heard besides us. — He explains, and then Ghost pushes him aside, opening the cell, he sees you raise your head.

— Si… — You try with a broken voice, grunting when he squeezes your cheeks.

— We share the same bed. — He interrupts, you notice his eyes shining with tears. — And yet you betrayed me. YOU BETRAYED US!

You flinch when he shouts, pushing away from you aggressively.

— They lied, I-I. — You stop only to watch him rip open the envelope, throwing the photos at your bruised body. You tremble as you look at the photos, your doctor, the one who examined you two weeks ago, who told you in no uncertain terms that a child was on the way.

Did he lie?

— Simon… — Your voice breaks, suddenly you find the strength to face your husband. — He's my doctor, I was…

— Confidential conversations. — He interrupts again, approaching you again, pointing his finger in your face. — That only you heard, only you, me, and the captain, don't fucking lie to me.

— Simon…

— DON'T CALL ME THAT! — He yells, his hands coming up to hold your hair, you scream in pain. — You're nothing more than a traitor now.

Traitor.

'I swear to love and care for you at all times, and if I fail, it's because I'm dead." Simon says in a low voice, a soft smile on his face as he places the ring on your finger. "I swear to have you as my wife for the rest of my life, at all times, I will love you."

— I am… — You try to say, your voice dies when the door is opened once again, revealing a soldier, your colleague, known as “Wasp”.

— Lieutenant… The captain is calling you. — I’m coming. — And then he lets go of your hair, and slowly lifts your balaclava, collecting saliva and then spitting it on your face, the saliva mixing with your tears.

— I’ve already finished what I had to do. — And as soon as he leaves, you know that your world has ended, every piece of it, slipped through your fingers, so quickly, it all started in the morning, when you appeared in the mess hall, and everyone turned to you, until your captain, and best man at your wedding, punched you in the ribs, you fell to your knees, and then you were dragged to a cell.

— Please… — Your voice is interrupted by the scream that escapes, with the sharp pain of the cut on your arm, and then cheeks, thighs and legs.

— Your little friend asked me to say something. — The woman sighs, turning the bloody knife in her fingers. You frown. — It wasn’t fake. What wasn’t fake?

And then your eyes widen, your heart pounding in your chest.

— Listen, I swear I'm not a traitor. — A strong slap is placed on your face, you bite your cheeks before continuing. — You need to tell Simon that…

— Do you really think we're going to believe anything you say? — She questions, getting closer only to put the knife too close to your neck.

— Then go through my sock drawer. — You beg, tears falling. — If you ever had any respect for me, as a partner, at least tell Simon that. She doesn't answer, she just takes the knife away from your neck, grabs a bucket of ice water, and throws it on your body.

It was at that moment that you knew you were going to die.

☆"I promise to be faithful. "☆

You have no idea what time it is. The cell is dark, and now empty, only the sound of water dripping from your disheveled clothes fills the dirty environment, decorated with your blood and dried tears.

No one visited you besides the woman, but you know there's a soldier at the door, you can see the shadow, they all came to look at you, not for long enough, just telling you how disgusted you made them, Kyle, Price, Ghost, they were all at your wedding, they were all your family.

You decide to stop mourning, there aren't many things in the room, but there is the knife used by the woman who tortured you, under a table a few feet away from you.

With difficulty, you manage to free yourself from the handcuffs, your feet finally falling silently to the dirty floor, you don't care, picking up the knife, also ignoring the pain in your broken thumbs.

Hiding is also easy, you just stay behind the door, until you hear the soldier curse, and then open the door, looking for you, who is quick to attack - even with the pain in your body - You press the knife into his shoulder, he grunts in pain, and then you knock him down, piercing just below his ribs, a clean cut, without any damaged area, you were not a monster like them.

You grab the man's boots that are easily too big for your feet, but it doesn't matter, not when you run silently through the corridors, ignoring the silent pains in your body.

Dodging the awake soldiers is easier than it seems, ducking and sneaking, but unfortunately, the emergency button is soon activated, while you hide behind a column, everyone runs in the opposite direction, and you smile mentally, stumbling until you reach the outside, and then into the forests.

During the night, which you discover is cold, you hold your slightly larger belly, it's a search for comfort, and you can't help but pray that he's okay.

You don't know how long you've been walking, but at some point, your still wet body feels heavy, and you find yourself forced to lean against a tree, sliding until you fall on top of the leaves, you sigh, your eyes closing. I'm not going to die.

☆"love you and respect you ."☆

— WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?! — Ghost screams as he pushes the door, the squad stares at him, clearing their throats.

— She injured one of ours, and then ran away. — Price explains. — All we know is that she ran into the forest.

— She would have to walk more than ten kilometers to find any sign of life. — Ghost grumbles, rubbing his forehead in irritation.

— She must have someone waiting for her. — Kyle suggests.

— And wouldn't they come for Andrey? — Ghost interrupts.

— Y/N could be the real piece, Andrey is probably a pawn. — Kyle explains, crossing his arms.

— He got caught and then he ratted her out, we just need to know how she got someone to come looking for her.

— That doesn't matter now. — Price says, walking around the room. — We need to know what she knew, and how much they know.

And then they go back to Andrey's cell, who is more injured than you, with a broken nose, and yet a splendid smile on his face, the smile of a winner, he starts to hum.

— Не плачь, девочка, мама тебя спасет. — Ghost approaches, his eyes narrowing in her direction.

— What is he singing? — Ghost asks the translator next to him, he doesn't take long to answer.

— Don't cry girl, mommy will save you. — Ghost sighs deeply, holding his jaw.

— Tell me what you know.

— Она такой хороший солдат, мой друг, она девушка. — he says with difficulty.

— She'll make a good soldier, I bet it's a girl. — The military man translates.

— Who is she? — Ghost takes a deep breath, irritation growing in his body.

— Кто она? — The translator asks.

—Это, очевидно, ваша дочь. — He says, looking at Simon with a big smile.

For a moment, even the military man translating stops, his eyes wide and his breath held.

— What the fuck did he say? — Ghost steps away, approaching the translator, who reluctantly looks into his eyes.

— Your daughter.

No. It can't be. I-

It's impossible.

He doesn't,

there's no way,

no-

— Daughter? — His questions come out slowly.

— The one in your little wife's belly. — The prisoner says with an accent, his voice thick and drawn out, his smile seems to widen, and suddenly Ghost feels suffocated.

— I'll kill you, you son of a bitch! — He grabs the man by the collar, his eyes locked on his, who shows no sign of lying, Ghost feels dizzy. — She's not pregnant, she would have told me!

— Она сказала, что планирует рассказать

— She said she planned to say it.

— Она сказала, что хочет чего-то романтического.

— She said she wanted something romantic.

“Baby, what do you think of this?” You ask sweetly one night, sitting on Simon’s lap, scrolling your finger on the screen of your phone.

“Why something so fancy, baby? We’re already married, aren’t we?” Simon jokes, mentally noting the name of the place.

“I want something special for us, Si.” And then you kiss him, he kisses you back, so sweetly, wrapping his arms around your waist.

— Папы не существует, мама его убьет. — He continues to hum.

— Daddy doesn’t exist, mommy will kill him.

Simon doesn’t think before running to his quarters, the room they’ve shared for years, he searches under the bed, inside the wardrobes, and then drawers. There are sheets of paper with words and more words, and then:

Positive for pregnancy.

— Simon. — Price runs to the room, stopping at the door only to see Simon kneeling, his fingers trembling as he holds the paper. — Did you find out?

— Find out what? — He looks up at his captain.

— The pregnancy. — Price bites his cheeks, guilt burning in his chest.

— How do you know about this?

— W-we found a… — Price interrupts himself, sniffling softly, trying to contain his tears. — Recorder on her cell phone, hidden in the case.

— S-so she didn’t… — Simon doesn’t need to finish, he is interrupted by a loud sniff from Price, who timidly nods. — Fuck.

Traitor.

Traitor.

Traitor.

“I swear, for the rest of my life, to be with you, when you fall and when you get up.” Simon fell even more in love with your smile, at that moment, you dressed in white, your eyes shining, he finally felt alive.

Kyle, Gaz, Price, Soap, his entire family, present at the best moment of his life.

“And I promise to love you even in the fights, the battles and the heartaches.”

Idiot.

Idiot.

Idiot.

— We need to go after her. — And then they both quickly agree, and stumble toward the rest of the task force.

Little did they know that as their bodies ran through the forests, screaming your name, with nothing but flashlights to light their way, you were no longer there, your body carried like feathers by soldiers in black, barely able to breathe, pale and cold.

— It seems we have a victory. — One of them cheers, the same Russian accent you would hear from now on, a new life.

Or the destruction of it.

☆"In joy and in sadness"☆

[evanescencelovrr]

Part 9! College!simon x reader. Hope yall enjoy—UGH the slowburn is slowburning 🥺 feel free to leave feedback & like/reblog!! Even more motivation.

Masterlist here ✉️

You’d been working the bar for some time now, four days a week. You’ve had some hiccups along the way, trading shifts with Simon when you needed to stay back to study. First, he was firm about it and looked displeased.

He did that usual thousand mile yard stare into your soul.

“Come on, Simon—I’ll do your assignment as a way to pay you back.” You groaned.

“No.” He stood behind the counter, burly arms crossed and lips pressed thinly. He resumed his stoic face. That was exactly why he pulled you to work at this bar—not to do some illegal shit.

You sighed and rubbed at your nose bridge, desperately needing a plan. Then, you perked up, brows raised and looking at him with that twinkle in your eye.

“I’ll fix your jacket.”

“This bloody lass…wot now?” Simon purses his brows, finger tapping impatiently on his elbow. He stared at you, meanwhile the sunset was setting behind you.

“Your jacket? It looks faded and broken. The one that says Lieutenant.” You slowly egged on, hoping he’d catch on.

He stiffened for a moment, eyelids widening for a split second. Then he cast a side glance at his hanging jacket in the closet. It was indeed ripped, buttons hanging loose. He inwardly cursed. Of course you just had go catch on. But curiosity sparked in him—the idea of your hands on his jacket gave him a rush.

So then, he looked at you.

“Bring it back neat n’ pretty, yea?”

That’s how you won. Now, after a long night of studies all you wanted to do was collapse and sleep. But no, instead your fingers worked deftly to fix the buttons hanging off loosely.

His jacket. Now it lay in your arms, spilling into your lap.

It even smelled like him. Musky. Maybe you went too far, but you repaired the leather on it. Only with distilled water did you carefully wipe it down, removing the dirt. Then with some saddle soap—rubbing a rag over it—you worked gently in circles over the leather.

“Cannot believe he has me doin this—“ You grumbled under your breath. Although it was your fault—needing to swap a shift again. Twice. You knew he felt irritated, but you hoped to make up for it by restoring his jacket.

After letting it dry for about 15 minutes, to which you nearly dozed off in bed—your alarm went off.

“Goodness Christ—“

You then got to work. Some youtube tutorial you watched years ago on caring for leather got you here. You owned a leather jacket anyway, red and hidden away in your closet.

“Alright…conditioning it is.”

Shortly after finishing, you managed to fall asleep in the chair, his jacket covering your lap.

——

“Ya done fixed er’?” Simon said, almost at a loss for words when you showed up the next day. His hands that were cleaning the glass now slowed, rag hanging limply. Lips parted in pleasant surprise, brows raised. A scar on his brow shined in the light.

There you were, holding his jacket folded in your arms. The brown leather was as good as new, and shiny. The cracks had faded and the buttons were sewed on.

“There she is. Told ya I’d have it done.” You said with that usual sarcastic tone. Your lip lifted in a smirk.

“Where in the hell d’ya learn t’do sum’ like this?” Simon asked, brow cocked and reaching out to grab his jacket from behind the counter. He sniffed it. It smelled new to which he’d have to drown it in his cologne. Rough fingers traced the soft leather, feeling its weight.

“I just happened to whip it outta my ass when I needed it the most.” You joked, hopping up on the bar stool and perching a hand on your chin.

It was then Simon noticed the bags under your eyes and he hung his jacket on the hook. He returned to glass cleaning, as the bar was quiet for now. It was you and him as Johnny and Price were most likely on the way.

“You didn’t sleep much, did ya?” Simon asked gruffly, eyes flickering to meet your dazed look.

“Studies.”

“So you really were busy—aye?” His eyes did this sudden gleam—and you found yourself staring. A rare look. You moved and put your arm in your lap, tearing your gaze away.

You didn’t want to be caught staring.

“Arabic class. You know how that goes.” You mumbled and sighed, shaking your head.

“Lass, since ya swapped the last few shifts, I needed to give ya’ this.” He then held out your tips from the first shift. Simon remembered the few times he’d try to find you to give it to you—but you were always busy. At a table, cutting up lemons, headphones in your ears, or cleaning the ice maker. And then last shift he heard you swapped.

You watched his movement, then eyed him, sliding the cash into your pocket. You shifted on the bar stool.

He had half a mind to ring your ear for leaving it—but the eye bags suggested he hold his tongue.

“Don’ leave it, yea? Some’ will give ya’ tips, so take it.”

“Got it.” You said, momentarily biting your lip.

Simon caught onto the movement and then shifted his gaze away, chest puffing slightly.

He then cocked his head at the window, light illuminating the hook of his nose and strong jaw. Motorcycles pulled up at the front and laughter ensued.

“Look who’s ere’. Troublemakers.”

“Gotta babysit em.” You joked which earned you—and lately—his wider grin.

You liked it.

——

The bell rung—and suddenly you found yourself spinning around. Another day another shift. Simon stood there, clad in his grey zip up, balaclava, but you recognized his eyes and that gruff tone of his—and boots. A backpack was slung onto his shoulder.

“I need ya’ to cover f’me.” He said lowly, his heavy eyes staring into yours.

Just then, your lip tilted up—amusing how now he was in your position.

Just days ago you begged him, if you remembered correctly.

“Only if ya give me your tips.” You beamed, unable to help to cat like smile.

He furrowed his brows and then leaned in—cologne and musk rising to your nose. His blonde lashes brushed faintly his cheeks, and then lips parted. You could see the scarring from his past so clearly, and now you wondered. What exactly was the training he went under? You knew he was Lieutenant…

But now you hugged your breath in—at his proximity. Your hand stalled from cleaning the glass.

“Lass, you can ave’ my tips. Don’ need em anyway.” He spoke gruffly.

“I—“

“Don’ want ya strugglin’.”

He then moved away instantly and straightened up, clearing his throat. He left no explanation.

You then resumed cleaning the glass, impossibly faster this time as if you’d turn it into a damned cup. Your neck flushed and it spread to your ears.

Simon thought he saw it, only to see you turn away.

“Is tha’ a yes?” He called out, gruffly.

“You got a yes, Cap.”

He then made his way out, bell jingling and boots thudding against the pavement. You watched his back, curious and slightly flustered from the whole scene.

You finger tapped the counter, “Hate to see you go, love to see you walk away.” You gave out a dreamy sigh.

Lately you’d been thinking about him more—and not necessarily in a friendly way. But more so—the way his cologne smelled, the eyes peeking from the balaclava mask, the flex of his biceps. The way his words rung out teasingly, and then some days—grumpy and stone cold when Johnny questioned him.

My god.

You were really getting sucked into him.

You wondered if he even felt that way for you too. Goddamnit. You’re a 27 year old woman, not a teenager. You knew money was tight ever since you moved apartments. This one was slightly above your pay grade—and then again, the old apartment, broken sink and regular gas leaks just wasn’t cutting it anymore.

Remembering his words, that he didn’t want you struggling something warm fluttered in your chest. You shifted slightly, unable to help the flush that deepened.

——

Close to the end of your shift, you and Johnny had been cracking a beer. Well, he did. You? You kicked back to some whiskey. Beer wasn’t your type. You know both sat on kitchen tables, all cleaned off. Johnny’s long legs braced the ground, perched at the edge, beer in one large hand.

“Dinnae think ya’ had it in ya’ handlin’ this job.” He muttered, taking a swig.

“Asshat tried to make a move on me earlier—wasn’t having it.”

He barked out a laugh, cheeks raising. They developed a slight flush from the beer now, and it only made his skin glow.

“Gotta’ show em’ what they shouldna’ mess with. Do what ye’ will.”

You grinned, bashfully looked down at your glass. Your finger tapped the side, seeing the whiskey sway a bit form your movement.

“I told him to get a pussy that can take a pounding or two.”

At that, Johnny bursted out laughing. His hand slapped his thigh, and you joined in, chest rumbling. Your head tipped back as you finished the last of your whiskey, hearing him howl.

“Goodness—lass. Remind me t’never bother ya.”

Thud.

Just then, the door swung open revealing Simon. He went behind the counter, back facing you.

You stiffened up, sensing something wasn’t right. You kept your eyes trained on his back, seeing his shoulders were tense and movements—half a second scurrying to punch numbers in the calculator.

Johnny watched, although not surprised or shocked at all. He’d gotten used to see his mate like this. But you—oh that would be entertaining to watch. So he sat, sipping his beer and eyes wide.

“Simon?” You got up and approached, resting your glass near Johnny who fished it and placed it in the sink. You emerged out the kitchen archway and into the bar. When he turned, your breath caught and your hand involuntarily flew to his arm.

Johnny couldn’t help the long glances as if this were some telenovela.

“What the hell—“ You hissed.

“Is’ nothin.’” He’d say flatly, cutting you off. He was sporting a black eye, lip busted. It looked nasty. The cut looked fresh, although not bleeding anymore. His lip was swollen from the hit, and knuckles grazed red. His clothes were wrinkled and shifted off his broad form slightly.

“You can’t just say that and not explain.” You said stiffly, arms crossed and glaring up at him. You were adamant, and defiant. And if he wanted to play this game of hide and seek—you’d find the truth eventually.

But Simon knew better now than to hide from you. He scratched at his neck with an arm raised. He initially didn’t want to worry you, but now—the plan went to shit.

So his eyes slowly followed yours as you assessed the rest of him. He couldn’t fight the sly grin that pulled on his lips, lips aching and all. He was Lieutenant after all, and after years of combat, training, near death experience, he’d never seen a lass so wound up over a black eye and scratch.

“Ya know I’ve andled’ worse.” He said with less of a bite this time.

You shook your head and out the corner of your eye saw Johnny leaned against the crate, smiling widely.

“You can’t leave it like that. What. Happened.” You repeated again, this time enunciating it. You walked to the back of the bar, past Johnny who sent Simon a wink.

Simon—just in time sent him a glare to shut him up, then returned to you, eyes softened just slightly. He perked up when he saw the first aid kit you brought out and nearly stifled a laugh. He found it endearing in a way—how you got all pissy and frantic over some scratch.

“Aye, the brute fought wih’ sum’ rascals is what.” Johnny said. You glanced at the Scottish man, shaking your head scoldingly at Simon. You dragged him to sit him down on the kitchen table edge, brows furrowed in thought—and irritation.

“Aye, ya’ heard the man. Few rascals were gettin’ feisty with the store manager. One of em pinned me.” Simon muttered, rolling his eyes. He could’ve fought better—but sleep deprivation made him lose his touch.

“One of em? Lieutenant, ya’ losing it?” Johnny said, cocking a brow amused and half concerned. “Is’ all tha’ damned Geek gettin’ to ya’.”

“Greek.” Simon corrected, although not necessarily caring.

Meanwhile, you got an ice pack, and squeezed it. A pop was heard and you grabbed his larger hand, placing it in his hand. Simon glanced where your hands touched, feeling sparks shoot up. He was hunched, the other hand resting on his knee, shoulder angled. He raised the icepack to his eye.

“I ain’t losin’ it. Jus’ went easy on em’ is all.” He gruffly said.

Johnny snickered and you moved to his lips, placing a small bandaid on it. It was a hello kitty one.

When he saw it, he glared at you. Brows slashed down, displeased. A pinch between the brows—and eyes narrowing.

You couldn’t fight the grin. “Sorry. Its all we had.”

“Ahh. Ya see. Knew this woulda’ happened.” Johnny grinned mischievously, so you put two and two together.

You scoffed and then moved back, eyeing Simon who never removed his eyes from you. You held your breath at the sight of his darkened gaze, something dark in them. Why was he staring like that? You thought.

“I look pretty now, is tha’ it?” His voice rung out, deep and smooth.

Johnny finished his beer, washing up your glass. He turned his back to you both.

You shifted, then gave out a quick reply. “You look like you belong in a tea session with hello kitty.”

Johnny bursted out laughing, shaking his head as he scrubbed the glass. “Lassie—you really makin’ me piss my pants tonight.”

Simon then got up, arm brushing yours to walk past. You followed with your head—then walked behind him, leaning on the archway of the kitchen entrance.

Simon began wiping down the bar counter.

You didn’t say a word, but eventually spun to face Johnny who was as red as a tomato. He couldn’t help his massive shit eating grin, standing behind you.

When he muttered you smelled the beer on him. “Dinnae tell Lieutenant, but I may ave’ put the hello kitty bandaids in it.”

[squinch-depraved]

Idea: Schlatt buys you a maid outfit and fucks you in it 😳😳

classic. i like it. shorter one while i get other stuff done

you shuffled out of the hotel bathroom, face burning, and stared at the ground where your boyfriend stood. "i didn't think you were serious," you mumbled.

he grinned as he took in the sight of you standing there in a skimpy maid dress, running his eyes over the long stockings on your legs and whipping out his phone to take a picture. you grimaced and shied away, but not fast enough. he had captured a photo of you in the outfit, surely to be filed away in the folder he kept of compromising images of you for whenever you weren't around and he needed pleasure.

"don't you look cute," he mocked, voice dripping with hunger.

"shut up," you whined. wrong move.

you moaned airily and nodded before breathing out a, "yes, sir," and tilting your head, baring even more of your throat to him. he smirked against your skin and reached to smack your ass under your dress's short skirt before he replied, "attagirl," and picked you up.

he tsked and stood up, striding across the room to tower over you. "not in the mood to hear you talk back tonight, doll," he spoke in a low tone, grabbing you by your waist gently and pulling you close. "i've got a flight at 5 in the morning and i only treated you to that dinner earlier because i need you to let me have my way with you and then sleep. 's been too long since i've seen you but i have so much on my plate right now and i just need you to be good for me, baby," he kissed into your neck, much kinder than he was earlier. he took the lace choker you were wearing in his teeth and tugged at it. "can you do that?"

you were thrown onto the bed swiftly; you landed with a giggly shriek before spreading yourself out for him and looking up at him sweetly. he grunted and laid down between your thighs, kissing and sucking purple marks into them everywhere before sliding off your lacy panties and licking a stripe directly up your folds. he wasted no time, moaning into your pussy as he tasted you gleefully, and he shoved your underwear into his pocket secretly as he explored you with his tongue.

mewling about how much you missed him, you rutted your hips against his face and eventually came undone all over him. as soon as you were done he hopped up and tore his pants off, hovering over you and pumping himself in his hand while he stared down at you in the dress he picked out. it was simple, sure, but schlatt felt you could never go wrong with a maid dress- it was a classic for a reason -but seeing you in one fueled the fire burning for the outfit deep in his gut like it had never been fed.

you blinked and he was in you, bending your legs back as he pounded you ruthlessly. moans echoed through the room and he smacked your ass, grumbling, "look so good for me, doll." you just continued to let noises spill from your lips at how amazing he was making you feel.

he kept going, getting rougher and rougher, smacking you around and spitting on you. the whole time he was singing your praises, telling you how grateful he was for you.

when he was about to finish, he asked you where you wanted it in a gruff voice, and groaned animalistically when you said inside. with a few final frantic pumps of his hips, he slammed into you one final time and collapsed on top of you.

you fell asleep first, cozy under his weight and now comfortable in the outfit he had gotten you. when he sat up to look down at you and saw you sleeping, he smiled softly and sank back down to bury his face in your chest and join you in your slumber. he was definitely going to make you wear the outfit more; how could he not when you looked that angelic in it, his cum dripping out of you as you lay there peacefully and your soft body covered in bruises from his eager mouth.

[shentheauthor]

Trying my hand at a potential pk boss fight

It would mostly be platforming followed by a short actual fight that won’t be too hard. I’m trying to think of this in a way that wouldn’t put the players through Hell

Pk would essentially fly away from you, sending saws and platforming challenges your way. It’s like path of pain 2: electric boogaloo. He’s trying to block out his regrets, but it’s not the same when the regrets have a fuckin sword lmao

When you inevitably catch up, he would have a little speech.

I see my past has come to haunt me, in more ways than one. I cannot run from you any longer, nor will I attempt to.

I know what you are here to do. I can feel her presence, far more than what my dreams can conjure. You need my half of our shared soul to end this facsimile of eternity.

You have fought so hard to get here, just as your sibling has fought for all this time. I have no right to ask anything of you, and yet I have one request. One duel, between the two of us. It is more than I deserve.

Will you grant me this dying wish, my child?

After the battle, he collapses, his face cracked. He is still alive, if only barely.

Ah… thank you. Thank you, my child. For what it is worth, I am… sorry. I am so, so sorry. If you get the chance… tell your sibling that it did everything it could. Tell it I love it. Please.

And then he dies! And you get the kingsoul. That’s essentially what that sequence will look like. I’d have to do more planning for his attack patterns in the actual fight, but I hope what I have so far makes sense

[quack-quack-snacks]

Time Will Tell - Chapter 24

My Time Will Tell Masterlist

My Cha Hyun-su Masterlist

My Navigation and Masterlist

The Time Will Tell Glossary

Warnings: The spider monster attack, reader gets injured (we love an injured queen), Hyun-su finally gets to choose his destiny (he pulls a Britney Spears). Word Count: 2,260

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You couldn’t stand watching the scene of Hyun-su just dangling in the air, wrapped up with nowhere to go and unable to do anything about it. 

Instead, you went back to the nursery to find your siblings. When you got there, you only saw Yeong-su playing with his dinosaur next to Jin-ok and you walked over to lean down next to him. “Annyeong Yeong-su, have you seen your sister anywhere?” You asked him.

He looked up at you with a small pout. “No. She said she’d come play dinosaurs with me but she hasn’t come yet.”

“I’ll go find her and then the three of us can play. How about that?” You asked him with a smile and he immediately brightened up, nodding ecstatically.

So, you ventured off to find your sister, using it as a distraction from the rescue mission you weren’t participating in on the floor below you. It took you a while but you finally saw her just wandering the halls with a lost look on her face. It brightened when she saw you and you smiled at her. “Yeodongsaeng, you know you’re not supposed to be going off on your own. You’ll get lost or something could happen!” You lightly scolded and held out your hand for her to grab. She did happily and you started leading her in the direction of the nursery. 

“I didn’t mean to, I was just trying to find Mr. Ha-” She was cut off by an ear-piercing screech that sounded from right behind you. You were already preparing to run even before you saw the eight-legged creature crawl out of a vent on the ceiling. 

You acted purely on instinct when you picked Su-yeong up and started running. She screamed as she saw the monster quickly approaching you from behind and hid her face in your neck. You rounded the corner just in time to avoid the beast crashing into you, sending it flying into the wall with a sickening crack! instead. You let out a breath of relief when you saw Mr. Han aiming his crutch gun at the beast and you pushed your legs even faster. “Han Du-sik, move!” You screamed at him when the monster fell to the floor, incapacitated. You knew it would only stay down for so long and you wanted him to get out of there as soon as possible, especially with him being at a disadvantage. 

You didn’t look back, but you could hear the squeaking of his wheels as he pushed them vigorously and sped away. You were set on getting Su-yeong to Jin-ok with your brother and protecting her before retreating to help the man; your axe was in the nursery anyways. 

When you got there, you could see the room was boarded up, each of the residents completely abandoning the drill exercises you all had practiced so many times. It made you furious but you couldn’t do anything about it at that moment. 

You banged harshly on the door to let them know you were out there before setting Su-yeong down and crouching to be at her level. “Get them to open the door for you and stay with Ms. Cha and Yeong-su, okay? I’m going to go help Mr. Han deal with the monster.”

You gave her a kiss on the forehead and ran away, leaving no room for a discussion as you barrelled to where you last saw Du-sik, completely abandoning your axe that was stored inside. 

Sure enough, you found him, but he was lying on the floor, his wheelchair lying sideways with the wheels spinning aimlessly. “Han Du-sik!” You called out, running towards him and putting your arms under his armpits. You tried pulling him away despite his pleas to run away but you weren’t strong enough. The monster arrived just as you’d barely gotten him six feet away from where you found him and you cursed under your breath.

Just when you collapsed, falling beside the man and preparing yourself for the monster’s attack as it neared, Du-sik slammed his crutch against a lever on the pillar beside you. A string attached itself to one of the monster’s legs and left it dangling in the air. You almost let out a sigh of relief until you felt a searing pain slash against your side and you were sent flying in the air. 

One of the spider monster’s legs had flailed around and gone clean through your shirt and side. It held onto your shirt while Han Du-sik grabbed onto your ankle, trying to pull you back. You were amazed at how your flimsy T-shirt was holding strong while the body it surrounded was being tugged in two different directions. 

Turning as much as you could while in the hold of both the monster and Mr. Han, you banged your fists against any part of the monster you could reach with every ounce of strength you had. Your - still injured from you punching the glass case holding the axe just barely three days ago - hand’s wounds must have reopened because you could see the white bandage that wrapped around it was starting to stain itself with a growing blood patch. 

Then, as quickly as you were raised into the air, you were dropped. You fell onto your back, the wind getting knocked out of you and you gasped uselessly. You could distantly hear Mr. Han screaming for you to run away but you could only bring yourself to move a few meters before you collapsed again, still unable to breathe and gasping for air. You gripped at your shirt and clawed at your neck for air until finally, finally, you felt a breath of air find its way into your lungs. You panted heavily, taking in breath after breath greedily and mentally thanking every single tree that existed. You looked up and saw one of the claws had pierced right through Du-sik’s leg, leaving it a bleeding mess on the floor. His face showed no pain so you assumed he couldn’t feel it but it was still a worrying sight. 

You could truly only watch as he hit the monsterized leg going through his own leg. The lack of air, along with the blood loss you were going through with your side bleeding profusely, made your body weak. 

You thanked your saviors when he was able to dislodge the claw and the beast was sent into the air by the group of girls holding the rope. When you looked over, you were able to see your little sister among the mix of people holding the rope; the only one you didn’t see was Eun-yu-

“You ugly eight-legged bastard freak! Fuck you!” 

Speak of the devil.

Eun-yu came sprinting up behind you with a lit Molotov cocktail and chucked it at the monster. You knew she was most likely aiming at its torso but with the way it was thrashing around she only managed to set one of its legs on fire. Regardless, you thanked her mentally as she helped you up and started to basically drag you away to a safer location. You made a note to thank her verbally whenever you regained the ability to speak. 

You stumbled alongside her until you both swung around when you heard screams as the group fell, losing their grip on the creature and unintentionally setting it free. 

You watched as its sights set on you and Eun-yu.

You watched it regain its footing and start crawling towards you.

You watched the horror dawn itself on Eun-yu’s face.

And so you did it without thinking. 

You used every ounce of strength left in your body to shove Eun-yu out of the way. She looked up as you did and screamed your name. A sad smile spread on your face as you accepted your fate. Your only regret was never saying goodbye to your siblings, forcing them to live as they had with your father’s death. You closed your eyes and waited as the creature approached. The screams of all the residents echoed through the room and the howls of the beast got closer and closer until-

What you expected to be sharp claws were instead replaced by a calloused hand spinning you around so that you were back to back with your savior. 

You knew who it was immediately just from the feel of his hand on your skin. Despite the interaction being so fleeting, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to forget the feeling. It was just so uniquely him.

Ji-su suddenly ran up to you just as Eun-yu reached you and together, they helped drag you over to the wall. They leaned you against it and Eun-yu immediately started putting pressure on the laceration on your side. You cried out at the pain but didn't resist it - partly because you were too weak to but also because you knew it would stop you from bleeding out. 

Hyun-su got stabbed multiple times by the monster and you watched it take him down, falling on top of him with screeching howls. The sight was horrifying and if you were strong enough you would have pushed Eun-yu and Ji-su away to rush over and help him. 

It went on for an excruciatingly long minute before both parties of the fight stopped moving. You held your breath - which hurt your side like crazy but you ignored it - and waited, praying he was okay. 

‘Let him be okay. You can take me away but please, please let him be okay...’ You pleaded in your head. 

He finally moved, pushing the monster off and away from him. The sigh of relief you let out was painful but worth it. Wasting no time, he stood up, putting nearly all of his weight on the spear he held and panting heavily. 

Everyone stared at him; some gazes thankful, some in shock, some in fear.

And then there was yours. Your gaze of such relief and affection and…

No… it couldn’t be… right?

You’d barely even known each other for more than two months, and the first month of that was just brief interactions that lasted probably much longer than they should have. 

But there was no other way you could describe this feeling. No other way to describe how your heart lit up just at the sound of his name. How fiercely protective you got whenever someone talked down on him. How you longed for his presence when he was gone. How you were always drawn back to him no matter how hard they (Eun-hyuk) tried to separate you. How you felt no fear for him no matter what state he was in. 

So that’s what it must be. 

Love. 

His eyes found yours and the small voids that absorbed all light like a black hole slowly retreated back into his pupils. His gaze traveled down from your eyes to where Eun-yu’s hands were still pressed into the wound on your side before he looked away. You could see the flash of guilt that covered his face when he saw the blood leaking from behind your shirt and immediately knew his mind was sent into the realm of self-blame. 

He turned, starting to limp in the direction of the arcade room no doubt. He used his spear as a crutch and you yearned to reach for him and help him, but all you could do was watch helplessly as he walked off.

You tugged on Eun-yu’s sleeve with a pleading look. “Help me.”

She nodded, allowing you to wrap an arm around her neck while keeping her hand on your wound and assisting you as you followed after the boy. 

Everyone else seemed to have the same idea as they got there before you, allowing you to watch as Hyun-su opened the door and stepped one foot through the frame before stopping at the sound of his name falling from Ji-eun’s mouth as she stepped to the front.

“Hyun-su,” she called. He stopped and slowly turned around to face her. “I’m sorry. I know we made… things more difficult for you.”

He just stood there watching her, his feelings of confusion and gratefulness at her apology plainly showing on his face. 

Eun-hyuk stepped up next, saying what you’d been begging him to since the beginning. “This time, we’ll let you choose.”

The two choices he had were evident despite Eun-hyuk’s lack of saying them aloud. 

Continue to spend his time in the arcade room, quarantining himself from everyone else.

Or:

Leave the arcade room and join the rest of the residents in their - as free as can be - free lives. 

He stared at the boy who’d just granted him the choice regarding his freedom before skimming his eyes along everyone else. They stopped on you for a moment longer than needed before he turned back to the door. You nearly let out a sob at what you thought would be him going back into the arcade room regardless of the choice given to him, but you were quickly relieved when he retrieved the foot placed inside the room and closed the door. Once he turned back around, you were barely able to give him a smile and sigh out in relief before you could feel yourself fading. 

“Fuck,” you said to yourself softly. Your arm started to slide from its place around Eun-yu despite her efforts to catch you and you fell to your knees before everything went black.

The last thing you remembered was the embrace of someone with soft, yet calloused, hands. 

~

taglist: @hyeon-yi @haowonbins @mythical-mushrooms13

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Nights of Endless Love Part 26

A fic set in Vegas in 1971 at the start of Elvis' first residency that year, where he meets a Vegas showgirl who isn't interested. Smutty, fluffy, angsty drama.

To catch up with the other parts, go here. As always, thanks go to @vintagepresley for the idea in the first place and continued inspo! And many thanks to @eapep for her editing skills!

18 and over only.

Pairing: Elvis + OC - Mia, a Vegas showgirl

Wordcount: 3.3K ish

TW: Drug abuse, health issues, angry!Elvis, a little bit of violence, crying, oral (f receiving), then much fluff.

A/N: This is the final part! I fully sobbed when I finished writing this. It's been a real labour of love and I will miss Mia and Elvis and their little world. Not to say that we might not go back and see how they're doing from time to time, but for now this is the end of their story.

“I’m so tired. Elvis this schedule is impossible.” Mia collapses down onto the sofa, still in her stage outfit. They’re more than half way through the stint in Tahoe, and she only has a two hour break before she’s due back on stage again. Things have got worse since she started going on with him to do a song or two in the middle of his set. 

“It’s not impossible. You just need one of these shots,” he looks over to Dr Nick. “Nick, give her a shot.”

Dr Nick moves warily over to Mia. She pulls a face and puts her hand out to stop him. “Dr Nick do not give her a shot. She has autonomy over her own body.”

Elvis is standing over the other side of the room, still in his jumpsuit, sodden with sweat. One of his legs is jiggling about and he's fiddling incessantly with one of his big rings. Two of the tell-tale signs that Nick had been in here giving him a shot before the second show. As if she didn’t know already.

“Well don’t blame me if you can’t hack it.”

Mia stands up, annoyed now. “If I can’t hack it? You’re the one taking enough pharmaceuticals to floor an elephant.”

Dr Nick moves from foot to foot awkwardly. Mia wasn’t often in the room when he was treating Elvis, but he’d already got the impression she wasn’t keen on all of the drugs. He isn’t keen on all of the drugs either, but Elvis will only find someone else if he stops prescribing. He’s never seen them fight before, and he would like to get out before it turns nasty. He knows Elvis has a temper.

Elvis starts moving towards her in that ominous way he has, his lip curling, blowing furious air out of his nose. “I need them. This is none of your damn business woman.”

“None of my business! I’m only living with you and engaged to marry you!”

“Well maybe you need to learn to do as you’re told.” He grabs one of her arms and starts trying to manoeuvre her towards Nick, who is looking quite alarmed by this point. Mia wriggles and tries to get him off her. She sees his other hand coming to grab her and aims a kick at one of his shins. “Ow!” He almost shrieks. She uses the opportunity to pull her arm free and then slaps him across the face for good measure.

“You are not the boss of me!” She screams.

“You come back here,” he hisses as she stands, panting in front of him. 

She thinks that she hasn’t actually gone anywhere and he could grab her from here if he really wanted to.

“I’m not having a damn shot, Elvis. I’m sick of seeing you take all this stuff. I’m sick of waking up in the night and checking if you’re still breathing. I’m sick of worrying about you all the time. I want you to rest,” she finds herself faltering, holding back tears. “I love you.”

He closes the gap between them, and for a moment she can’t tell if he’s going to kiss her or hit her. He pushes her the few steps back it takes to hit the wall, and then his mouth is on hers, his tongue pushing insistently into her mouth, his hands grabbing her arms and pressing them against the wall next to her head. Somewhere that sounds like a million miles away she hears the clunk of the door. Nick must’ve finally had enough.

“Baby I love you too,” he says, when he finally comes up for air. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you.”

He starts slowly unzipping her catsuit, kissing her newly exposed skin as he goes. He stops briefly to pay her nipples some attention, but it’s clear where he’s headed, as he presses kisses to her stomach and slides the zipper down all of the way to where it finishes between her legs. She gasps when he first licks her clit, firmly and repeatedly, looking down to see him on his knees in front of her, worshipfully. His tongue dips down lower, tasting her properly, his lips and chin slick with her juices. She whines, desperate for more contact.

“Put your leg on my shoulder baby,” he says, the words buzzing against her.

She does, feeling his fingers spreading her cunt so he can better access it, lapping at her, pushing his tongue inside. His thumb moves to rub her clit as he carries on licking, the fingers of his other hand digging into the skin of her thigh and ass. She moans, grabbing her breasts and rubbing her nipples. She’s so turned on even just at the sight of him kneeling in front of her like this, burying his face in her cunt, licking and sucking like his life depends on it.

He moves to suck on her clit now, looking up at her as he does it, his hair soaked with sweat from the show earlier and her arousal all over his face. He slides a finger inside her and curls it slightly, waiting to hear her reaction. She groans, feeling him hit that spot inside of her and wriggling to try and get more contact from his tongue.

“Hold my head Mimi. Do whatever you want with me.”

She shivers at the words. She loves it when he tells her to use him like this. 

“Another finger…please,” she just about manages.

He nods and slips a second finger inside her.

She reaches down and takes hold of his head, fingers digging into his damp hair. She starts to roll her hips so that her clit rubs against his tongue, holding onto him gently and then as the pleasure starts to build she finds herself gripping him desperately, pushing her cunt into his face, not really caring anymore if he can breathe. She’s so close now, all she can think of is reaching that high. As her orgasm washes over her she grips his head even more tightly, crying out and feeling tears falling down her cheeks. She shakes and cries, finally letting him go and sliding down the wall, somehow getting her leg off his shoulder and ending up sitting in a little pile at the bottom of it.

“Fuck, honey.” Elvis is beet red, and he’s taking great gasping breaths.

She looks over at him, and realises she might’ve actually been suffocating him. “Oh shit. Are you alright?”

“Honey. You’re crying.” 

Mia laughs, even though she’s still crying. “I’m crying, you’re nearly suffocated, this is all going great.”

He moves to try and kiss her and she holds her hands up in front of her face. “Ahh. Wash your face!”

He laughs and grabs her arms, pinning them to her sides. “No,” he replies, kissing her on the mouth. She can feel the slickness of his lips, covered in her juices, and taste herself on his tongue. “If you’re going to smother me the least you can do is kiss me afterwards.”

She laughs, and then he pulls her into his arms, leaning against the wall himself. “Baby why were you crying? I thought you were enjoying yourself.”

“I just felt overwhelmed. I love you so much and I really want this to work, but it’s just fucking exhausting. I’m sorry I nearly killed you.”

He chuckles into her ear. “It’s okay, I asked for it. In more ways than one. And I love it when you’re so uninhibited like that, especially all over my face.”

She squeals. It smells like sex and sweat all around her. They really need to shower before the next show.

He nuzzles her neck. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have got mad at you. You’re right, we can’t carry on like this. But I don’t know what else to do.”

***

They somehow finish the Tahoe commitment but tell Jerry and the Colonel that there’s no way they can keep up that level of work. It was what they’d suspected would happen, and although the Colonel has his views on how many shows Elvis and Mia should do, for once he keeps his mouth shut. Jerry has been a good influence on him from that perspective. He’s learning how to diversify, has even thought of taking on one or two more clients. Jerry suggests one show a night is more reasonable, tours could be longer but there would be more gaps between dates and fewer residencies. Mia and Elvis both agree, and leave the meeting somewhat relieved. 

Mia knows the amount of shows isn’t the only problem though, and so she decides to broach something with Elvis as she watches him rubbing his belly and grimacing.

“What do you think about checking yourself into a hospital?”

Elvis almost jumps. “What? There’s nothing wrong with me!”

Mia puts her hand on top of his. “You’re not in any pain just now?”

He sighs. “Okay, but… hospital?”

“Please. For me. I’ll stay in there with you. We can order in whatever food you want. But I think you need to go and get checked out, and… maybe you need to come off some of what you’ve been taking.” 

She’s very nervous about the last part of the sentence. He’s never taken interference in the drugs he takes very well in the past. She had thought she wouldn’t interfere in that part of his life, but the shows at Tahoe showed her that she had to. She watches his face twist into a variety of different expressions, as if he’s having a not-very-internal battle with himself. 

“You’ll stay with me the whole time? Even if they want to do things to me? Look for stuff? You’ll be there? You promise?” He’s starting to sound a little panicked, but it seems like the agreeable Elvis has won this time. 

“Yes. I won’t let them throw me out of the room. I’ll be there with you the whole time I promise.”

He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Okay then.”

***

Mia keeps her word. They check into the hospital together and she’s there holding his hand as they do blood tests, check his blood pressure, put drops in his eyes. When they tell him he needs a colonoscopy he looks at her and she tells him it will be okay and she will hold his hands and talk to him the whole time. He nods like a frightened child but does whatever she says. They slowly take him off the complicated mixture of pharmaceuticals he’s been taking since he was in the army, working out exactly what he needs rather than what he wants. Mia stays up a lot of the nights, lying in the bed with him, stroking his hair and wiping his brow as he sweats and twists and turns uncomfortably in his sleep. With the best will in the world, his withdrawal is still horrible and he begs her to let him take something for it, crying in her arms. 

A week after they first got there, he’s sat up in bed as she lays dozing after another tumultuous night. 

“Hi there.” A voice Mia can’t quite place, deep and sonorous. She tries to ignore it, but Elvis’ response makes that impossible.

“Lawrence! It’s been so long!” 

Elvis is feeling good for the first time since he checked into the hospital, and seeing Larry has made him genuinely excited, dropping the book he was reading and sitting up properly in bed. All of this jostles Mia so much she sits up again with a groan. 

“How’re you doing, man?” Larry asks, sitting down on the armchair in the room. 

“Great. So much better. They’ve taken me off a lot of things and… I do feel good for a change, Larry. They’re bringing me all these fresh fruits and vegetables and Mia is helping me decide which ones I like.”

He looks over at Mia, whose hair is absolutely everywhere, eyes barely open, looking like she needs to sleep for a week. He strokes her face. “Baby, why don’t you go to the room across the hall and get some proper sleep?”

The hospital staff had reserved them another room in case Mia wanted to sleep somewhere separately sometimes, but she hasn’t left his side for the whole week. 

“You sure?” She replies, groggily. 

“Of course, Angel. Larry can keep me company for a while and you look like you need to sleep somewhere comfy.”

She nods and shuffles off across the corridor. 

“I hear you’re getting married?”

Elvis grins. “Yeah. When the divorce is finalised with Cilla, we certainly are.”

“I’m so pleased for you Elvis. Things really seem to be turning out well lately.”

Elvis is beaming. Things were turning out well. He has an idea to make them even better. “Say, you wanna be my best man?”

Larry is taken aback. They hadn’t been in touch much recently, a hair cut here and there and a few chats, but nothing like the intensity of their relationship previously. He’d been wondering if they were just drifting apart. 

“I’d be honoured!”

Elvis reaches across to shake the other man’s hand, firmly. “Wonderful. I’m sure Mia will be pleased too.”

***

Mia had never thought she’d be so nervous on her wedding day. What is there to be nervous about? Fluffing up the words? Tripping over her dress and falling on her face? Actually, both of those seem like pretty bad options. She smooths her dress down and looks at herself in the mirror. Life on the road hasn’t exactly stopped the ageing process. If anything, it’s accelerated it. She had her grey hairs dyed back to brown in readiness for today, there’s a lot of strong elastic holding her not-so-little belly in and a face full of make-up hides her tired eyes and wrinkles. But she finds somehow that she doesn’t mind so much any more. Elvis’ hair is still white and he is completely unapologetic about it. He gets his reading glasses out when he needs to and he ignores the jibes from the guys. They worship one another’s bodies, no matter whether they find wrinkles or extra fat there. Elvis is particularly delighted by the fact that she’s put on a little extra weight on her ass, kissing and kneading it at every opportunity. Every morning he tells her how beautiful she is, or sings Mia In The Morning, no matter how many times she hits him with a pillow and tells him to shut up. The tests at the hospital showed that he has a problem with his intestine that makes his belly swell from time to time, and Mia makes sure to show him how much she loves him whenever it happens. He’s given up trying to push her away when she pushes his shirt up and kisses him all over. In fact, he almost looks forward to it.

Mia smiles at her reflection. It had been one helluva year. When she’d started 1971, performing on that stage in the Tropicana, she had no idea things would turn out like this. That she’d be getting ready to marry one of the most famous men in the world. That she’d be so in love with him.

“You ready?” Amanda asks. Mia had to spend an entire drunken day catching her up on everything that had happened over the past couple of months, but she was the only person she wanted as her maid of honour. 

“As I’ll ever be.”

Her dad walks into the room, blinking back tears at how beautiful she looks in her dress. 

“Time to go, pumpkin?”

Mia nods and takes his arm. Elvis had encouraged her to get back in contact with her parents, so she’d invited them to the show when they visited her hometown. She was surprised when they came, and even more surprised how proud they were of her. She suspects it has something to do with Elvis, who put on the world’s biggest charm-offensive when he met them, and who of course they loved instantly. Her dad was over the moon when she asked him to give her away at the wedding. 

She can feel herself shaking as they walk slowly down the aisle to meet the man standing at the end of it. Elvis is shaking too, he’s asked Larry approximately 15 times already whether he still has the rings, and until he saw her for himself a few moments ago, he had completely convinced himself that Mia wasn’t coming. The walk is interminable for both of them, Elvis sweating and worrying about stuttering his vows and Mia concentrating on not falling over her own dress. When she finally gets there and they turn to face one another, holding each other’s hands tightly, they both let out shaky breaths. And then they realise what they’ve done and both giggle. It’s like the rest of the world completely disappears when they look at one another. Until, that is, the celebrant starts to speak. 

“In the presence of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, we have come together to witness the marriage of Elvis and Mia, to pray for God’s blessing on them, to share their joy and to celebrate their love.”

Despite their fears, the ceremony goes smoothly. Larry hands over the rings. No-one declares a reason they can’t get married, and neither of them mess up their vows. Elvis stutters a little but it just makes Mia love him more, if that were possible. They kiss passionately when they’re told they’re now man and wife, and little Lisa-Marie is the first person to start throwing confetti. Mia briefly wonders if it’s odd to have your husband’s ex-wife as one of your bridesmaids, but then decides she doesn’t care. Priscilla is still such a good friend to her, she’d even helped to pick out Mia’s dress. 

The party that follows goes on well into the night. It starts with a first dance to actual Jackie Wilson performing (Your Love Keeps Lifting Me) Higher and Higher, and sometime around midnight Mia finds herself still in her wedding dress, trying to teach Red West how to rumba. 

“Never thought you’d last, you know.” He says into her ear as she tries in vain to get him to stop standing on her feet. 

“Oh really?” She laughs back, pushing his hip with hers. 

“No. Thought he’d have enough of you being so bossy.”

“You should be concentrating or you won’t get any better.”

Red looks up at her. “I’m not really trying to get better, I’m enjoying you manhandling me if I’m honest.”

Mia bursts out laughing, shoving him back and away from her. “I’ll tell my husband you said that.”

“You’ll tell your husband he said, what?” 

Elvis is suddenly behind her, his arms around her waist. She leans back against him and smirks. “Red West is trying to get close to me, husband.”

“Oh, is that so, wife?”

“Hmm yes. But I wouldn’t worry about him, I’m not interested.” She spins around in his arms and puts hers around his neck. “I just feel sorry for him.”

Elvis looks up at her and chuckles, humming with pleasure as she leans her forehead down against his. “He is pathetic, you’re right.”

Red rolls his eyes and huffs, wandering off to find someone else to annoy. 

“How is my beautiful wife?” Elvis asks her as they sway back and forth to the music. 

“I’ve never been better. How is my handsome husband?”

“I’ve never been happier. Today has been perfect. You’re perfect. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“I can’t wait either, lover.”

The band starts playing From A Jack To A King.

From a Jack to a King / From loneliness to a wedding ring / I played an Ace and I won a Queen / And walked away with your heart

***

Taglist:

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @another-identityofmine @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog

[transformersxreader]

TFA Yandere Megatron x Femme Reader

(I will add sketches soon, thanks again for reading!)

Purple means flashback

For as long as (Y/n) could remember, she has always been on the run.

Run from what? You ask....

The leader of the Decepticons, Megatron.

(Y/n) grips her hands together trying to ease her nerves, at the moment she was trying to fix her ship. The wires and screens kept glitching out making loud alarm noises, not helping her. (Y/n) once fixing the issue, collapse onto the floor letting out a sigh of relief.

Why couldn't Megatron move on.... Why search for her? (Y/n) wrap her arms around herself, memories flashing back into her head

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Lady (Y/n). Our lord Megatron is ready for you."

Lugnuts voice booms out making (Y/n) flinch, she gave the large Mech a small nod.

Taking one last look at herself in the mirror, she felt tears forming. Her color scheme completely change, her amor was a bit more intense for her. (Y/n) was not herself just the last bit of herself she could see was her deep blue optics.

Lugnuts waits patiently for (Y/n), letting her walk out first, following behind. (Y/n) felt more sick and nervous when they started to get closer and closer to the throne room.

The doors slide open revealing many decepticons in each side, they stood in their positions. (Y/n) head was low, too scared to face him.

Lugnut leans to (Y/n) side and whispers, surprising her

"My lady, you must rise and face to our lord."

(Y/n) nervously looks up to see everyone in the room staring at her. No one makes a sound, (Y/n) looks towards the middle, and with a steady moment walks forward, Lugnut slowly follows.

(Y/n) half way to the throne see Megatron, he looks terrifying as usual but the one thing that made (Y/n) ease up was his small smile.

Megatron reached out a servos for (Y/n) to grab, which she hesitated but accepted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Beep* Beep* Beep*

(Y/n) notice her lack of attention she hears another alarm, picking herself up typing onto the screen the see the problem.

Another ship? But this one different?

She can't risk it.

She needs to leave.

Just as (Y/n) was placing in new coordinates, a loud bang was heard making the ship shake harshly, knocking (Y/n) back

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Do you lord Megatron take (Y/n) to be your lawfully wedded wife? Till death do you part?"

Megaton grips (Y/n) hands tightly

"I do."

"And do you (Y/n)? Take Megatron to be your lawfully wedded husband? Till death do you part?"

(Y/n) looks up to Megatron, deep into his crimson optics. She opens her mouth be no sound came out, but when Megatron grips a bit more tightly she spoke up with a bit a crack voice

"I-I do...."

"I now pronounce you husband and wife.

You may kiss the bride."

(Y/n) felt Megatron warp his arm around her bringing her closer, their lips connect making all the decepticons cheer.

"ALL HAIL LORD MEGATRON!"

"ALL HAIL QUEEN (Y/n)!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) came online, but she couldn't move.

Oh no...please....

"Hey, you're awake."

A voice echos out, (Y/n) tries to move her body but couldn't, her optics move to the side trying to get a glimpse of who ever was there.

A light was shined on her face making (Y/n) close her eyes, the light is moved away letting her see her kidnapper.

(Y/n) breathe hitch in fear

"L-lockdown..."

"Hey you remember me, that's nice it's been a long time hasn't it, last time I saw you was at your wedding."

Lockdown was fixing up some of his weapons, (Y/n) lets out a steady breath.

"Please. Please don't take me back."

Lockdown stops and faces to her

"You know Megatron is paying a really high price for you. An offer I can't refuse."

(Y/n) lets of a cry and begins to panic and tries to escape making lockdown come forward holding up a gun like machine, making (Y/n) halt her movements.

"Shhhhh. Can't have you stressing out all the way to Megatron, here relax."

A small puff of cloud comes out of the machine making (Y/n) cough a few times her optics feeling heavy and slowly goes to stasis.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) sat motionless in her very own throne chair, Megatron sitting in his own as well.

Each loyal follower of Megatron steps up cautiously to present you a gift or bows to you in respect.

Megatron would just nod to each soldier and (Y/n) would a least thank everyone slowly with a low voice.

As the celebration continues, Megatron grips (Y/n) faceplate to make her look at him.

"I can't wait for you optics to shine bright red my dear."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[enbytrees]

I need you underneath me, laying on the bed, I want to run my fingers through your hair and trace them along your jawline. I want to playfully tug at your waistband and wrap my hands around your hips. A firm reminder that at least for this moment, you’re mine.

I’d help you out of your clothes, gently and carefully taking them off you and folding them up, putting them on the bedside table, before running my hands across your body, you’d be able to feel my strong hands cradling your head and neck while I kiss your forehead, before moving my attention to your neck and shoulders, making sure to appreciate, kiss, and gawk at every inch of you. Slowly making my way to your hips, giving them a playful bite.

I’d kiss and caress your tummy, making my way down to your bush, but completely ignoring what you want most as I skip to your thighs and legs.

My gentle touches making you long (and maybe beg) for more as my breath shudders and I struggle to contain myself.

“Please, please take me” you’d say in a breathy tone between moans.

And just like that, now that I know it’s what you want, a switch flips and I take it.

Using one hand I’d pin your shoulder to the bed, biting the other shoulder and using my other hand to pin you down by your hips. Before you know it, I’ve spit in your mouth and then my teeth are in your chest, my forearm is over your throat, and I have you exactly where I want you.

I’d leave bite marks along your tummy, making a line of them to your hips as I push my fingers into you, a perfect wet mess there to invite them in. Pulling them out and slapping your cunt before I push them right back in, three of them now, filling and stretching you while you’re still pinned down, gasping for air.

Using you like that for as long as I want, turning you over to make sure to leave some marks on your ass and back too, making sure every part of you is recognizable as mine. Increasing my speed with my fingers, I want you (I NEED you) to cum. And you will, again and again while I lean over you, still fully clothed, and use my hands to give you all the pleasure and pain I can manage.

Now you’re laying on the bed, out of breath, with me panting over you, sweat dripping down my face and off my chin and brows onto you until I hear you gasp “I’m not sure how much more I can take”

And that’s when I reach for your clit, finally felling it throbbing and swollen beneath my fingertips, sending a jolt of pleasure through you as I bring you to one last orgasm before collapsing on top of you.

You would feel my shudders and sweat through my clothes as I regained my composure, taking a minute to be your weighted blanket

Finally, when I was done catching my breath I’d gently pull you in for a few soft kisses, and carry you to the warm bath I had already gotten ready for you.

You did a great job for me, time for you to rest. Maybe next time I’ll take my clothes off too.

[sgt-tombstone]

Candy Red

So... my angst brain took over and I decided to finally type out an idea I've been sitting on for a while. Please heed the content warnings because this is a pretty gruesome one. Take care of yourselves and feel free to yell at me in the notes!

CW: brief mention of sexual assault, brief mention of child slavery, canon-typical violence, angst, hurt/no comfort, rough sex, breaking up

Read it on AO3 here!

----

The world was cruel.

Soap knew that better than most. In his time in the 141, he had seen some of the worst atrocities the world had to offer; brothers turned against brothers for the sake of profit or hatred, women trafficked and subjected to horrific violence, children bought and sold like sheep at the market. He'd seen enough blood to half convince him of Old Testament justice, of the biblical plagues of Egypt, of the End of Days.

The cruelest thing he'd ever been forced to witness, however, was the body of Simon Riley twist and warp as a barrage of bullets tore through his skin and muscle, bursting veins and shattering bones, before falling to the ground in a heap. Soap himself had been close to bleeding out, propped against a concrete wall that was more rubble than structure, and had been afforded a front row seat to the devastation; like a train wreck in slow motion, he hadn't been able to look away. He had watched in abject horror, his heart lodged somewhere in his esophagus instead of safely behind his ribs where it was supposed to be, as Simon's blood flowed freely, pooling in the dirt where boots and bullets alike had gouged the earth. He'd watched as Simon had collapsed, and he'd watched as Simon didn't get back up. And he didn't get up. And he didn't. Get. Up.

He woke up in the hospital two days later, brain and muscles sluggish with pain meds and a constant slew of fluids injected directly into his veins. His left thigh was a mess of stitches and bandages, blessedly blood-free but liable to start leaking again at the first hint of movement. There was a drain tube stitched in place, because apparently his body was pumping puss like nobody's business, and the sound of it dripping into the metal basin beneath him sent waves of nausea through his chest.

Gaz was sitting next to him, his chair pulled close, his head in his hands, looking as gaunt as Soap had ever seen him. He wondered if his fellow sergeant had slept at all since his hospitalization or if he'd spent the entire two days staring at the heart rate monitor, like it'd stop the second he glanced away.

There was a second beeping noise, slightly offset from Soap's own pulse, and he tilted his head as quickly as he dared, holding his breath to keep the bile at bay. He needed to know if it was Price or Ghost; if their stupid, self-sacrificing stunt had put anyone else in the line of fire or if they had miraculously gotten away with it. He needed to know if Simon had given his life to save Soap's. He needed to know if he'd need to dig his dress blues out of his-

His gaze landed on the sharp slant of Simon's nose, the jagged edge of the scar bisecting Simon's lip, the blond eyelashes fanning over Simon's sharp cheekbone, and his chest collapsed on a silent sob. Tears stung at his eyelids, clinging to his own lashes, and he tossed his head back to the middle of his pillow to keep them from falling because he couldn't lift a hand to wipe them away. He gritted his teeth against the wail that built in his chest, the keening cry that fought its way up his throat, muscles tightening until he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't stop the tears from overflowing, running in rivulets past his temples and into the shaved sides of his head.

"Soap?"

He squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of Gaz's voice, rough from disuse, or maybe just misuse, because Soap could still hear the echoes of his panicked screams in his ears, reverberating between the steady beats of the heart monitor. He and Gaz had seen each other at their absolute worst, coated in blood, collapsing from exhaustion, screaming in hot-blooded rage, but he didn't want Gaz to see him like this. He didn't want Gaz to see how utterly broken he was.

"Get Price," he whispered, and breathed a sigh of relief when Gaz skimmed his fingers over the back of Soap's hand as he stood to leave.

----

It took three weeks for Simon to be released from the hospital and eight more for him to be green-lit for strenuous exercise again.

Soap stayed as far away from him as possible the entire time.

First, because he was healing from his own aches and pains, the bullet hole in his thigh stubbornly refusing to close on its own, blood and puss leaking from it like a faucet, and he'd been forced to ride a desk until the stitches held long enough for the gaping wound to suture itself back together. After that, he avoided Simon because of the guilt.

It was a tender, aching, thorny thing, stuck somewhere behind his clavicle, stabbing skin and bone every time he took a breath. The doctors had been concerned about pneumonia, and he hadn't had the heart to tell them that he couldn't take a deep breath without his lungs trying to force their way out through his rib cage, without his heart squeezing impossibly tight, stuttering over each beat like it wasn't convinced it wanted to keep expending the effort that living required.

He became as much of a ghost as Simon. He spent a grand total of three hours in his room over the course of those eleven weeks, opting instead to catch catnaps in whichever corner seemed the darkest. He'd lodge himself behind stacks of crates, protected by the shadows of automatic rifles and hand grenades and armored trucks. He slipped in and out of the mess hall in silence, unnoticed and ignored, because John MacTavish was a loud soldier, and the man who lurked in the halls of Credenhill was not. Gaz looked at him askance every time he saw him, concern etched into every plane and wrinkle of his face, eyes heavy with worry that encroached on fear, but Soap brushed him off, citing pain and worry of his own for his lack of sleep. Neither of them mentioned the fact that he was making himself purposefully hard to find. Neither of them mentioned how adept he was at it.

----

They fell into bed together twelve weeks and three days after their bodies had been riddled with brass and lead.

They were in Simon's room, Simon pressed against his own locked door, Soap's hands and mouth wandering frantically over every square inch of skin he could find, like he was relearning every dip and divot of Simon's body. Like he was memorizing it all over again, etching it into his memory. Simon's body was hot against his, their skin burning where they were pressed together, aching to get closer. Soap broke their panting kiss to tug Simon's shirt over his head and Simon reciprocated in kind, letting their palms wander over healed skin and new scars, reverent.

"I'm okay, Johnny," Simon whispered into the still air between them and Soap wanted to sob, wanted to climb inside of Simon's chest and live there like a hermit crab in a Ghost-shaped shell, wanted to tear Simon apart, rib by rib, until he could hold the warm, bloody, beating muscle in his hands, could feel it constrict with every pulse, could feel it throb in time with his own. He ached with want.

Instead, he pulled Simon bodily away from the door and shoved him towards the bed, barely giving him any time to adjust before settling his weight on top of him, framing Simon's hips with his thighs. The stretch pulled at his newly-healed scar, but he didn't relent. His jaw ached with the need to feel Simon's skin between his teeth and he let himself indulge, warmth flushing through him at the sound of Simon's groan, low and breathy. Simon's hands burned like brands where they arced across Soap's bare back, leaving trails of embers smoldering under his skin.

He blinked and blood coated his mouth, thick and heavy on his tongue, where his teeth were lodged in Simon's flesh, biting down harder with every stroke of Simon's finger across his hole, thick and probing, slick and teasing. They were completely naked, their hard cocks pressed side by side, velvet heat emanating off of their bodies in waves, and Soap didn't know when that happened, but he wasn't going to complain, not when he had Simon's fingertip dipping past the tight ring of muscle. His eyes rolled back with the stretch, like an itch he couldn't scratch finally sated, except that it wasn't enough. He needed more, needed to be pulled apart like taffy, needed to carve himself hollow until he was a husk, ready and willing to house the very essence of Simon Riley.

He rocked back against Simon's fingers, pushing them deeper, stretching himself wider, until he was panting with it, his breath hot against Simon's blood-coated chest, viscera dripping with every exhale, bright against pale skin. Simon's other hand cupped the back of Soap's head, fingers carded through overgrown hair, keeping him in place.

Finally, Soap felt Simon's lube-slicked cock press against his hole, hot and cold and soft and hard all at once, and he keened at the pressure, overwhelming as Simon split him open. He could hear Simon whispering above him, soft words spoken directly against the crown of his head, but he couldn't parse them out over the static in his blood, whiting out his hearing until his ears were ringing, the high-pitched tinnitus of one too many explosions at close range, but he craved just one more.

When Simon started thrusting, it wasn't soft or gentle. It was the frantic, frenzied movements of a man who had nearly died to save the love of his life, who had nearly been forced to watch his partner bleed out into the dirt right in front of him, who had been helpless to do anything but sacrifice himself in the vain hope of at least dying together. It was the first brush of warm skin, the steady pulse under seeking fingertips, the barest exhale against a bare palm. It was relief, pure and simple, except relief was never simple. It was life, and Simon was grasping it with both hands.

Soap went fuzzy after that. He tried to stay present, tried to soak up every moment, but his mind drained out through his ears as Simon used him, nailing his prostate with every thrust. There was blood, not just in his mouth, but under his nails; he was scratching Simon's chest and arms, presumably, hard enough to draw blood, but Simon was doing nothing to discourage him. If anything, he arched up into it, begging for the sensation as fervently as Soap wanted to inflict it. Corpses didn't feel pain, and the dead didn't bleed.

Cum mixed with blood as Soap tripped over the edge; Simon's hand wrapped around his cock, Simon's blood painting his teeth, Simon's cock massaging his prostate. Pale skin adorned in red and white, and then Simon's body clenched, every muscle tightening as he spilled inside of Soap. Warmth, endless warmth, in and around him, and it took no effort at all to tip over into unconsciousness, the steady rhythm of Simon's heart loud in his ear.

----

"What the fuck is this?"

Soap blinked awake, immediately aware of the chill that had become his bedfellow at some point in the night. Something heavy hit the bed by his feet and he belatedly registered the deep growl of Simon--no, Ghost--standing over him. He tilted his head, confusion swimming to the forefront as he squinted up at Ghost.

"Wha-"

"Did you request a transfer?"

Oh, fuck.

Soap sat up, his gaze landing on the stack of papers that Ghost had thrown onto the bed, neatly stapled with the damning heading clearly visible at the top. Transfer Request. Signed and dated by one John "Soap" MacTavish the day he'd woken up three months ago. The second date, penned in by the owner of the second signature, one John Price, was far more incriminating; today's date. The day of his transfer.

He stood up and pulled on a pair of sweats, refusing to take this conversation laying down, or naked. And then they were both standing in the middle of Ghost's room, several feet between them, and it felt like an immeasurable, insurmountable gulf.

"Aye," Soap said defiantly, because he had. He remembered, through the haze of tears and drugs and pain, signing his signature on the dotted line. Price had questioned him over and over, but Soap had refused to give in. His hand had been shaking, his vision blurry, but he'd signed with conviction, the same conviction he felt now, hot in his veins.

"Why?"

It was all Soap could do to hold onto that conviction in the face of Simon's soft question. It escaped on a sigh, a small, broken thing that was more breath than sound, and Soap wanted nothing more than to rip the paper to shreds, to cross the divide between them and wrap Simon in his arms. The single syllable cut into Soap's skin like a knife, leaving a trail of blood behind, and only Simon's touch would mend it. But he couldn't. For both of them.

"You're compromised," he said, forcing his voice to take on a hard edge, an uncharacteristic flatness, and he barely held himself back when Simon visibly flinched.

"I'm compromised?" Simon hissed, pain and betrayal dripping from every syllable. "Were you- Did Price-"

"I requested it," Soap interrupted. "Price didn't make me do anything."

"Why?" Simon repeated, and he sounded desperate now. Soap ground his teeth together, tasting the remnants of Simon's blood along his gums, and stayed silent. "Since when have you been the responsible one here?"

It was a joke, or at least an attempt at one, a tear-soaked effort, but it landed flat and heavy like a grenade, and Soap could feel the air thicken as they stared at it, wondering if it was a dud or if they would both get caught in the blast.

"One of us has to be," he said flatly, and the grenade exploded. Heat and pain flared across his chest, throbbing in time with his heart, and he couldn't meet Simon's gaze. He stared resolutely at his chest, at the pink scars that pocked his skin, and drew tenacity from the sight. "I'm reckless, Ghost," he said, shaking his head helplessly. "I always will be; nothing you can do about that. I'll not have ye killin' yerself to save a lost cause."

"A lost-" Simon breathed, then cut himself off, his face crumpled in devastation. "Johnny."

"It's already been approved, Ghost," Soap said, a little unkindly, just harsh enough to cut them both, a little pain to force Simon back a step.

"Where are you going?"

"I can't tell you."

"Will you ever come back?"

Soap let the silence stretch between them, speaking for itself. The truth was that he couldn't. He wouldn't let himself. He had seen the way Simon had let himself crack, had reveled in the glimpses he saw behind the mask, had delighted in being one of the only people who got Simon instead of Ghost. But he hadn't expected the ruin it would cause.

Neither of them could guarantee each other's safety; it was the job. They regularly put themselves directly in several convergent lines of sight, laser scopes pointed directly at their hearts and minds. That fact had never bothered Soap before. And then he'd met Simon, and he'd seen how viscerally Simon reacted to the sight of a laser sight aimed at Soap's head. He'd seen the lengths that Simon would go to to protect him, and he couldn't let that happen.

"Will I ever see you again?" Simon whispered, and Soap hated himself for the way his breath hitched.

"I hope not," he said. Every bone in his body buzzed at the lie, but he refused to let it show. "I hope you forget about me, Ghost. By the time I'm KIA, I hope that you'll have forgotten my name."

"Never," Ghost snarled, hot and sudden, but Soap didn't let himself roll over.

"One day I'll die," he continued, keeping his voice as apathetic as possible, like the words weren't scorching his throat as he said them. "There's nothing you can do about that. It'll be easier for you to lose me now."

"Easier?" Simon asked incredulously. "Is any of this easy for you?"

No, God no. The words sat at the tip of Soap's tongue, trapped behind his teeth, and it took everything he had not to let them loose. Nothing about this was easy. But neither was laying in that hospital bed with nothing to stare at except Simon's unconscious body, swathes of shredded skin on full display as the nurses changed the dressings. Neither was clinging to the sound of a heart monitor throughout the night, every silent beat a held breath, hoping that it wasn't the last. Neither was laying next to the love of his life, waiting for him to die, and knowing he was the reason he was there at all.

"The man I love wouldn't do this," Simon pleaded. "The man who loves me wouldn't do this. Don't do this, Johnny, please."

"It's already done, Ghost."

"Simon," Simon breathed. "Why won't you call me Simon? What changed?"

Nothing. But Soap couldn't say that. It was the truth; he loved Simon with every fiber of his being, and that would never change, but he couldn't say that. Instead, he scooped his shirt off the floor, pulled it over his head, and stepped around Simon to the door.

"Do you still love me?" Simon asked, rushed, like it took every effort to force the words out before Soap opened the door and broke the bubble around them once and for all. "Did you ever love me?"

Soap paused, his hand on the doorknob, and squeezed his eyes shut to stop his tears from falling. He did. He did, and he always would. God, he loved Simon like the sun loved the moon. Even now, he craved Simon's touch, craved Simon's smile, his laugh, his fond eyes. He craved and he ached. But he had to stay strong. For both of them.

"No," he said at last, pulling the door open. He heard Simon's sob echo in the room behind him, broken and desolate, and every muscle in his body strained with the need to run to him. He could feel his heart breaking in his chest with an audible crack, splintering until every shard was lodged deep in the surrounding tissue, lacerations that would never heal for as long as he lived. He could only hope that Simon's would, that Simon would be able to pick the pieces back up and tape them back into some semblance of a functioning organ. He could only hope that Price and Gaz would be there to soothe the sting until the cuts scarred over, until Soap's name was said with anger or indifference rather than grief, until Soap was nothing more than a smudge on the horizon. A bitter memory, a long-lost almost, a name on a mission report.

He forced himself to step outside and close the door on the sound of Simon's grief. It was better this way. It had to be. It was the only way Simon would survive.

----

When he stopped by Price's office later that day, he saw the same stack of papers waiting for him, stapled neatly, heading damning. Transfer Request. Signed and dated and absolute. Price fixed him with a scrutinizing look, a little too soft for Soap's liking, and their handshake lasted just a moment too long.

"Good luck, sergeant," he scowled, his displeasure evident in every line of his face, but he hadn't stopped him from signing the papers on the first place.

"Thank you, sir," Soap said. "It was an honor serving with you."

"I hope you know what you're doing, son," Price grunted. "He won't give up that easily."

All he could do was nod as Price handed him the stack of papers. They felt like dead weight in his grip and he tightened his fingers, the sheets crinkling slightly against his palm. Price walked him out to the tarmac where the plane was waiting, cargo and soldiers alike loading into its belly. Gaz was waiting for them, enveloping Soap into a bone-crushing hug as soon as he was within sight.

"I'll miss you, Soap," he said, his lips pressed close to Soap's ear to be heard over the airfield din. "Stay in touch, yeah?"

He knew that he wouldn't, but he nodded anyway, tears prickling at his eyelids.

"I'm sorry," Soap responded. "I-"

"I know," Gaz interrupted, pulling back to look Soap in the eyes. "We'll take care of him for you."

"Thank you."

----

As the plane took off, engines roaring and frame trembling, Soap settled back in his seat, his head resting on the metal hull, and waited for reality to sink in. His body felt charged, a live wire disguised as blood and muscle and bones, and his fingers played with the edge of the paperwork in his hands. He idly flipped through it, making sure every dotted line had its appropriate signature, and when the stray piece of paper fluttered out, he grabbed it reflexively, instinct more than intent.

When his brain registered what it was, he couldn't stop the flow of tears. He read the address over and over again until he couldn't read it anymore, until the words were smudged with drops of water, until he was sobbing into his glove, pressed tight against his lips.

If you change your mind, you know where to find me.