#so I’m like fuck it let’s get every guard to chase me so the rest of the group and sneak inside

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Far From Me

Vax’ildan x Reader

Words: 2576

Part One

Summary: Vox Machina tries desperately to bring a fallen member back from the other side. Vax’s true feelings are shown in his desperation. 

Notes: I’m embarrassed by how long it has taken me to write this. (I’ve been working on these two imagines since season one came out guys) But here it is. Now, I don’t know every step so I kind of made the ritual to fit the story itself. It’s my version of the ressurection ritual. Don’t come after me please haha.   

-

“Pike!” 

The wounded cry rang through the dark. Vox Machina all tensed at the sound. 

Vex’s head whipped around, her eyes peering carefully into the dark. 

“Pike. Someone! Help me!” It called again. 

Vex’s stomach dropped. She turned to the others. “It’s Vax.”  

She sprinted into the dark, holding her torch out ahead of her. Her eyes scanned every surface in a panic. So focused and frightened, she nearly ran straight into him. At first, her eyes only saw his face and she nearly cried out. Blood smeared across his cheek and his eyes were filled with a deep despair. 

It took only a moment to realize that the blood was not his. 

In Vax’s arms was Y/N’s limp form. 

Vex’s gaze darted between the two. 

Y/N’s pale face. Vax’s shirt, soaked with red. 

“Where’s Pike?” He croaked. His voice was raw and broken from sobs. 

“She’s…” She motioned to the hall behind her where the rest ran to join them. “Vax, what happened?”

“We have to save her. We have to… I can’t… she’s not gone,” he rambled. His eyes found the light-haired gnome and he rushed to her, falling to his knees and presenting her with the body in his embrace. “Do something. Please. This isn’t right. She wasn’t meant to…” 

More, less coherent pleas fall from his trembling lips. The rest of the team stood over them with similar expressions of shock and distress. 

Pike, speechless, tried to assess the extent of Y/N’s injuries. 

“Vax, she’s-” She gasped tearfully.

“No!” He screamed. “No. We have to do something. I do not accept this. I won’t.” 

The cleric saw the desperation in his eyes and knew the truth behind it. She nodded.

“Not here,” she said. “We have to get her somewhere else.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Scanlan chimed. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” 

They took off again, Vax still cradling Y/N against him. He didn’t stop when a new set of guards began to chase them. He was too frantic to be furious with vengeance. 

Percy and Vex, however, skidded to a halt. 

“We’ll hold them off,” Percy said. He loaded his weapon with a menacing click. “We’re right behind you.” 

“Besides,” Vex looked at the woman in her brother’s arms. She and Y/N may not have gotten along at first, but she’d grown to love the sorceress like a sister. Especially since she’d seen Vax’s feelings for Y/N from the beginning. Nobody was going to get away with taking that away. She aimed her arrow at the first guard. “I’m going to enjoy this.” 

-

They’re only refuge was a deserted shop several blocks from the armory they’d fled. Vax didn’t remember getting here. He didn’t remember running or kicking down the door rather than picking the lock. He didn’t remember his sister and Percy finding them in the chaos. Every thought was consumed by the woman in his arms. 

“That’s a lot of blood,” Grog said. His usual aggression was replaced with genuine worry for his friend as he recognized the grim expressions on the others' faces. “But you can fix it, right Pikey?”

Her blue eyes widened. “I-I-”

“Y/N is going to be fine,” Vax finished, clearing off a table and laying Y/N down. He didn’t look at the healer or anyone else. His eyes stayed glued to the pale, cold face before him. Vax found a cloth and wiped the blood from her cheek. 

The group around him remained frozen. 

“Somebody do something!” He screamed. 

Pike let out a nervous breath. 

Scanlan put a hand on her shoulder. “You can do this.” 

The reassurance pulled her back into the moment. She stood up straighter, took a breath, and shoved Scanlan and Keyleth out of her way. The cleric pulled a diamond from her pouch and laid it on Y/N’s unmoving chest. 

“We need to do this quickly and we need to do it now,” she barked. 

As the rest of the group scrambled to set up the ritual by Pike’s instruction, Vex approached her brother, gently laying a hand on his arm. He instinctively pulled away, leaning over the body before him. 

“We will get her back, brother,” Vex said softly. 

A tear fell into Y/N’s Y/H/C hair. Vax brushed a strand out of her face. 

“I didn’t tell her,” he whispered. “I-I didn’t tell her. I wanted to, but I was too late.” Finally, he looked up. Tear-filled eyes met his sister’s and he spoke through a broken sob. “I have to get her back so I can tell her.” 

“And you will.” Her voice held the assuredness he wished he could muster. 

With slow, guiding hands, she pulled him away from the table enough to give the cleric the space she needed. 

“Pike,” Vex nodded. “Do your thing.”  

The chaotic panic of the room fell into a deep, concentrated silence. The air tightened until Vax couldn’t breathe. 

“We have to call her spirit back to her body,” Pike said, hands splayed out over the diamond, which had developed a soft, golden glow. The light was small like a candle wick first taking flame. 

“And that will work?” Percy asked. 

Pike took a breath. “If she wants to come back, we have a chance.” 

“What do you mean, ‘if’?” Scanlan looked over her shoulder only to be shoved out of the way. He shuddered. Grog was right. That was a lot of blood. 

Pike didn’t answer. 

Scanlan asked again, almost shouting.  “What do you mean, ‘if’ she wants to come back?” 

“Her family,” Keyleth whispered. Her staff trembled in her hands. “She told me about her family. Her parents. They were killed in front of her as a child. Maybe she…” The kind-hearted druid couldn’t bring herself to finish. 

“Maybe she wants to stay with them,” Pike concluded. 

Vax’s mind went back to that night, the shooting star and Y/N’s drunken voice filled with a disheartened kind of sorrow. He thought of other nights, of other talks once she had opened up to the group. He knew how much she missed them. How she longed to see them once more. 

“But we’re her family!” Scanlan exclaimed. His distress seeped into his voice, almost making it crack. “She can’t go. She has to come back.” He leaned over Y/N’s body, fists clenched on the table beside her. “Do you hear me? You have to come back.” 

“I’m trying to reach her,” Pike said. 

Scanlan took out his lute. 

The gnome's fingers strummed the strings, not in his usual flamboyant fashion, but in a slow, swelling tune. He had no words, but he didn’t need them. The notes spoke for themselves. Sorrowful was not the right word for the moving melody, but there was a tone of despair floating beneath the waves. But upon every crest sang the main point of the piece. Hope. 

In the final moments of the song, Scanlan crouched by Y/N’s ear and whispered something no one else could hear. 

“You reminded me that I’m a good person,” he said. A single tear fell down his cheek. “I need you to keep reminding me or I won’t believe it. Please, come back.” 

With a final flourish of notes, his playing ceased and the room was silent once again. 

Vax was still frozen, his sister’s arm around his shoulders. He wanted to speak, to scream, to plead with the gods not to take you from him, but his voice was lost in a sea of panic swimming through his mind and drowning his chest. 

Please, he thought. Please work. 

“I-I can feel her,” Pike said, eyes screwed shut and brows furrowed. “But I can’t reach her. I need more help.” 

To Vax’s surprise, it was his sister who stepped forward when he was still unable to find his words. He tried. He desperately, desperately tried but all he could do was stare at the cold, limp body before him. Using what strength he could, he followed Vex on his knees to grab Y/N’s hand. His forehead rested beside it as Vex spoke. 

“You were never one of us,” she said. “You were the stray we picked up along the way. You were never meant to last for more than a week.”

Vax lifted his head. “Vex what are you-” 

She stopped him with a glance. Tears pooled in her eyes and her lip trembled as she continued. 

“That is what I believed when we first met. When I first understood your feelings for my brother, even before you did. I thought you were going to leave and I resented you for it. I resented you for the possibility that you would hurt him.” She stood at the foot of the table and took a breath. “But I know that I was wrong.” 

Vex walked around so that she was across from her brother, taking Y/N’s cold, unmoving hand into her own. 

“How many times have you saved my life with these hands? With your power?” She forced back a cry. “With your heart?” 

She remembered every conversation over the fire, while everyone else was asleep. She remembered how Y/N had stood up to her and Vax’s father. She remembered Y/N’s encouraging words and kindness after months of Vex’s hostility. 

“If you lock your heart away from the people you care about, you lock it away from yourself.” Y/N had said one night. Vex remembered wanting to hit her because she was right. “You deserve to let your heart be in the light, Vex’ahlia.” 

Vex continued. “Scanlan was right. You are part of this family. And you know how much I hate agreeing with that gnome.” She laughed through her tears. “Your journey with us is not over. Please, bring your heart to the light again.” 

The diamond’s rays flickered brightly, but only for a moment, and started to fade again. 

“No, no please,” Vex cried. 

Pike grimaced, reaching out her hand. “I’m losing her!” 

The twin’s eyes met with panic and growing despair. 

“It’s you,” Vex said. “It has to be you.” 

“I… I can’t,” Vax clung to the side of the table, fear shaking through his arms. The fading glow felt like daggers in his chest. The lump in his throat made it difficult to talk. His mind was clouded. 

“It has to be you,” his sister repeated. 

The light flickered out. 

For a moment, everything stopped. Time, feeling, thought. It all halted. It felt as though his heart, too, had stopped beating. 

Vax jumped onto the table, pulling Y/N into his arms just as he’d held her in that room. 

“No no no no no,” he didn’t have the energy to scream at first, his words coming out as breathy prayers. But, holding her closer to his chest, he finally found his voice. “Y/N! Don’t do this, please. You have to come back. You have to hear me say it.”

 It was like he was back there again, watching the light fade from her eyes, trapped in the dark. Alone. 

“I meant it.” Vax held her face in his hands, resting his forehead against hers. “I love you. I have loved you since that night when I took your hand. I have loved you in every step we’ve taken together, but now the path you walk is far from me. Please.” Vax pressed his lips to hers. If he could have given her the life from his lungs, he would have. “Return to me, love. Come back.” He kisses her again. “Come back.” 

A growing, bright beam overtook his vision. 

The diamond glowed once more. 

Pike let out a battle-like cry. Her blue eyes disappear beneath screens of light. The rays engulfed her body. 

Y/N lifted out of Vax’s arms. For a moment, he reached out, afraid to let go, but his sister’s hand on his shoulder stopped him. 

Bright, gold beams blinded the room. 

Percy lifted his arms to shield his eyes. Keyleth hid her face in Grog’s shoulder. Scanlan ducked beneath the table. The twins turned toward each other. 

Darkness returned, Pike gasping for breath, leaning on Scanlan for support. 

Y/N fell back into Vax’s arms, limp and cold. 

“Did it work?” Keyleth asked. 

Y/N remained still. 

The room was silent again. 

Pike closed her eyes, letting Scanlan pull her into his arms as he tried to hide his tears. Keyleth covered her mouth with her hand. Percy looked at the ground. Grog didn’t understand. 

Why wasn’t she waking up?

“Brother…” Vex said softly. 

A desperate, gut-wrench sob escaped Vax’s throat. He buried his face against her neck and held her as if she were his lifeline slipping away. 

Outside, a faint glint of a shooting star streaked across the sky. 

Slowly, you opened your eyes. 

“Why… why is everyone crying?” You coughed. 

Vax pulled back, a mix of disbelief and utter bliss overtaking his features. He held your face in his hands, feeling the warmth return to your cheeks. 

“Thank you, Everlight,” Pike sighed, gripping Scanlan’s hand. 

Vax brought you back to him, holding you tightly against his chest. Vex through her arms around both of you. 

“See,” Grog said. “I knew she’d be alright.” 

Everyone gathered around the table, encircling you with relieved expressions and tears turning joyful.

Scanlan sniffed and wiped at the moisture on his face. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.” 

It came back to you gradually. The pain of the blade, laying in Vax’s arms, falling into the dark. You gently pushed back from Vax. 

“Did I…”

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’re okay now.” He pressed his lips to your forehead. 

“I thought that I-” You took a breath. “I thought I saw my parents.” You looked around at the people you’d come to call family. “But then I heard music. I could hear voices, calling me back. And I felt…” You reached a trembling hand up to your lips. “I thought I felt…” 

You gazed into the eyes of the man holding you. 

His lips met yours with a soft, yet powerful, urgency. 

It gave you all the strength you needed. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer, your revitalized heart beating so hard you were sure everyone could hear it. By the time you pulled apart, you were both gasping for breath and beaming. 

“Fucking finally,” Vex laughed. 

“Uh, so do you guys, like, want the room?” Scanlan nudged your side, wiggling his eyebrows at you mischievously. 

“Like you wouldn’t find a way to watch,” you joked. You moved to stand but fell back against Vax. 

“Easy,” he said. “Don’t exhaust yourself just yet.” 

“Yeah, save that energy for other things,” Scanlan smirked. 

Vax gave him a silencing glare. 

“We should get out of here,” Percy said. He peeked out of the window and watched the guards they hadn’t killed rush by. “Else we’ll have to do that all over again.” 

“I’m with Percy,” Pike agreed. “She’s too weak for another fight. If we stay hidden, we can get to the next village by sunrise.” She looked at you and you nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” you said. Again, you tried to walk, your legs aching and trembling beneath you. 

Vax scooped you up in his arms and kissed you once more.

 “I’ve got you.” 

And he was never letting go. 

[sellasstories]

COURTSIDE

word count: 0.75K

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

⚠️warnings⚠️

referenced + implied smut, explicit language

prompts:

sitting on her lap (her pulling you onto it) when she’s on the bench during a game for a few moments so she can catch her breath and she mumbles stuff in your ear or she’s too tired to talk so she’s just heavy breathing in your ear and it reminds you of something else

you have a one track mind (it might be caitlin’s fault)

You were regretting getting seats right behind the Iowa bench because it was a very physical game and you had to stop yourself from running over to Caitlin every time that she was thrown to the floor. The defence always focused completely on her, so much so that you didn’t think she’d stopped moving all game. You watched, in awe of your girlfriend, as she weaved through defenders to make a contested layup, sinking the free throw as well after she was fouled. She was gritting her teeth as she lowered her head and jogged back on defence.

The opposing team’s point guard looked for a teammate to pass to, and that second with her eyes off of Caitlin was enough for her to steal the ball and bury a three in transition. You cheered as loud as you could, finally seeing Caitlin let a small smile cross her face. The smile broadened as she glanced at her coach, then the clock, before jogging towards you and the bench. You’d been so caught up in the game that you didn’t notice that there was only 1:48 left in the third quarter. Caitlin had certainly earned the rest, growing her team’s lead from 4 to 10 points in the last 20 seconds.

She collapsed into her chair, panting, and you rushed over to crouch in front of her. Someone handed you a water bottle, so you stood up to offer it to her. Instead of taking it, Caitlin pulled you into her lap, keeping her hands on your hips and splayed across your stomach. You couldn’t help the butterflies from having your bodies pressed together, Caitlin’s claim on you so clear and shameless.

“Babe, you need to drink some water,” you giggled as she nuzzled your neck. Caitlin mumbled something, but she was breathing so hard that you couldn’t make it out. “Please, drink, you’re doing amazing,” you encouraged her again.

You noticed a change in her eyes when she looked up at you, the praise clearly having a huge effect on her. Smirking, she stuck her tongue out and moved one of her hands to your thigh. You rolled your eyes but let her, pouring some water into her open mouth. She didn’t break eye contact as she swallowed, and you started to squirm as you got more aroused. Caitlin returned her chin to your shoulder, close enough that you could almost feel her lips touch your neck every time that she exhaled heavily.

You hadn’t noticed before, but now that your mind was there, you realized that Caitlin’s uneven breathing sounded a lot like it did right before she came. She never screamed and rarely moaned, but you could always tell when she was close because of how erratic her breath became as she desperately chased her release.

Your mind drifted to how hot she’d looked last night… her head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut, mouth open to take stuttering breaths as her hips twitched uncontrollably and her pussy tightened around your fingers. You could almost imagine it was happening right now if you closed your eyes. You bit your lip as you realized that Caitlin’s breathing had evened out, leaving you dripping wet as she was ready to go back on.

“Wait a second,” you whispered, pulling Caitlin into a heated kiss. She kissed back enthusiastically, but pulled away after a few seconds.

“What was that about? I’m sorry, babe, I really need to go back on,” she said apologetically.

You met her confused gaze. “You don’t know what you do to me, I want you so bad right now,” you mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed.

Caitlin squeezed your thigh and pressed her lips to your ear. “If I could, I would fuck you right here, on the floor, in front of everybody,” she breathed, smirking as she gently stood you up and ran over to check back into the game.

Your brain caught up just fast enough for you to yell at her retreating back. “You’ll pay for that one tonight, Clark!”

You ignored the exclamations of surprise from her teammates, focused only on Caitlin as she turned around. Jogging backwards on the court, she slowly looked you up and down, biting her bottom lip. You made a point to ignore how much more it turned you on, trying to get through the rest of the game by thinking about how exactly you were going to make her pay.

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . SANO SHINICHIRO ; — shinichiro thinks you feel too fucking good, good enough for him to never want to stop.

warnings: f!reader, premature ej, cream-pie, pussy-drunk shin always, barely proof-read. note: i’ve missed writing for him so i’m a lil rusty :3 but i hope you guys enjoy!

no matter how many times shinichiro sinks into your plush pussy, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to the intoxicating hug of your walls — like you’re fucking begging for more of him, luring him in deeper with every needy stutter of his hips as his palms palm and squeeze at your waist.

“come on, angel. fuck—ya gotta stop squeezin’ me like that.” he’s so fucked— he’s just started, a few thrusts in and he already feels like he can barely breathe when the next deep kiss of his cock makes you hiccup his name. his hair is mused and messy as it sticks to the light sheen of sweat across his forehead, falling over his lidded gaze and framing his flushed features but he can still see you so clearly.

shinichiro’s never had a woman moan for him like you do, he’s chasing the intoxicating squeeze of your pussy around him as he digs more of those sweet sounds out of you — the ones reserved for only him. your back arches against the sheets as he lets his palm trace along your skin, taking a slow, languid handful of your breast before he whimpers — pace stuttering as he lets himself press deeper into you.

god, he’s had a long day at the shop — he’s needed this, needed you. maybe that’s why everything feels so fucking good, because he’s been imagining the feeling of your skin along his all day, gritted teeth and restless hands — biting back how fucking hard he’s been at the thought as he throbs with his next withdrawal before he pushes back into you.

“shin—please!” you gasp and his lips part to moan as he lets himself rest on his forearms — close enough for his lips to graze along your collarbones as he takes in the way his fucking chain rests along your skin. but he lets his eyes flutter closed as he tries not to focus on how fucking perfectly you’re hugging around him, hands grabbing at his shoulders in a desperate attempt to pull him closer but keep yourself steady all at once.

“i hear ya, princess. s-shit—jus’ gotta be patient with me for a sec.” shinichiro feels fucking drunk on you, his mind and senses blurring as his name continues to fall from your lips in soft pants that make him feel like he’s about to pass out as he mouths at your throat — smearing messy, fucked out kisses along your skin as his movements become even more desperate. “my baby jus’ feels so fuckin’ good.”

it’s dangerous — the tremble of his hands where they squeeze at your skin, the throb of his cock as desire begins to warm along his nerves, licking at his spine as he grinds out another low drawled moan of your name. his skin feels hot but he thinks you’re even fucking hotter when you send him a sweet, little wet look that has his abdomen tightening.

“shit—don’t gimme that pretty look, angel. g’nna make me f-fuckin’ cum.” shinichiro’s babbling, half-hormone drunken mantra’s with every needy roll of his hips into yours. the blunt head of his cock grazes along the sensitive, sinful spots inside of you that only have you squeezing even tighter — luring him deeper like you’re a fucking siren and he’s staring down from the ledge.

“shin—ah, you’re so good!” the drawled, dreamy little praise from your lips feels like honey as it drips through him, making him tilt his head to kiss you before his body quakes, as do his lungs on his next thrust — his sudden orgasm catching him off guard when he feels your tongue graze along his own as he cums.

a low whine rumbles deep in shinichiro’s throat as his pace stutters suddenly, licking into your mouth with his next languid, wet withdrawal before he’s pushing his load deeper into the push and pull of your cunt. but it’s only gets you even wetter, every lewd squelch makes him gasp against your lips as he kisses you — flushed to his chest but fuck— he never wants to fucking stop, not when you’re so pretty and so good.

“s-shin.. we can stop, mmm” his body claps with yours before he pulls away from your lips to rest his head in the crook of your neck, panting as he grinds into your pussy despite the way the sensitivity weighs heavy on his nerves. every throb and squeeze feels like it knocks the air out of him but every whine from your lips reminds him how to breathe and he knows he’s not stopping as he sends you another heavy, wet-eyed look before he’s smearing a kiss along your cheek.

“mmf—fuck.. nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. gotta take care of my, baby.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[beyond-mortal-limits]

FFXIVWrite2024 - Day 12: Quarry

You killed them. Well done. Can we go now?

The giants’ gore still drips off your axe. You struggle to hear the scout’s words over the pounding in your head.

“Certain... allegations have been made. It would seem that you were seen conversing with - with a corpse in the Brume.

He held out his hands placatingly. Condescendingly.

“Not that anyone would ever believe such slander, of course...”

The soldier swallowed hard. He’s afraid of you.

“I should warn you, madam, that some of these allegations were made by Temple Knights. You, um - you may be asked to surrender your weapon...”

He trailed off, turning pale. 

Surrender your weapon? After what happened in Ul’Dah?

“L-look, I’m just the messenger, I-I don’t-”

He turned, and started quickly wading through the snow.

No. No more. Enough. They’ll put you down like just another heretic. Like an animal. You know what these things are like. Nothing for it, then. JOURNEY TO WHITEBRIM FRONT AND KILL THEM ALL.

The soldier was looking over his shoulder every now and again as he struggled up the slope. He’s going to raise the alarm if you don’t stop him.

When he realises you’re chasing him, the fear becomes fully apparent. His breathing becomes ragged, panicked, and he lurches as he begins to try and sprint. The snow drags at your feet, a hellish freezing burden on your legs that threatens to trip you every other step. Everything about this world acts against you. It is long past due a reckoning. The little soldier’s stride is smaller, but familiarity with the frozen countryside makes up for it. 

On and on the two of you go, scrambling and running through snowdrifts and up the hill, both becoming exhausted by the effort. He drops his bow and quiver to lighten the load, and you rip your helmet off to clear your vision. It’s not like any of these things can actually harm you, anyway.

He’s screaming, yelling, making a ruckus, but the mist eats his words. Even as he bowls through the gates, there’s some hesitation as to what is actually happening. One of the more switched-on guards actually manages to get his pike under your arms and into your chest, but you snap it with your axe and tear the point free. I told you, they’re nothing. You are more than them in every way.

He’s climbed one of the flagpoles, finally trapped with nowhere to run. There is shouting the noise of things who think they understand the world all around but your next step is simple. All you have to do is go up there and drag the soldier down and then we will do the rest of them. You grip the pole and - something is wrong. Keep going. You can see his face, looking down, full of the fear of prey and you can see the spots on it, and there’s spots on his face because he’s nothing still a boy. You can see the tears, too. You remember, now. This isn’t right.

You should stop.

And then what? You’ll put your collar back on? You’ll lie down and let others trample you, because it’s so much fucking easier than having a spine? If you won’t crush the vermin in your way, then they will eat you alive. You deserve better. You deserve more.

I can’t.

You can. You are the Eikon-Slayer, the conquering hero, the divinely-appointed warrior of the star, and you can kill every single worm here without stopping. You don’t even need a weapon to do it.

No.

Yes.

No. We shouldn't be doing this.

Either you start standing up for yourself, or we go back to cowering in misery and letting insignificant nothings make our decisions for us. What’s it going to be, Petra? Are you going to have a fucking spine or not? Are you going to speak up and make yourself heard for once?

I will - I will - I WILL NOT KILL BECAUSE YOU TELL ME TO.

[canarydraws]

Darkness Falls

Recently Lucéena got a bit of a rejuvenation in the form of dying. Yea I know how that sounds, let me explain. Looong story under the cut

After some adventures, the party had been given a week’s worth of free time to do a bit of shopping and get some much needed rest. So we all split up. We all had errands we wanted to run, including Lucéena. At first she’d gone shopping you know, nothing exciting. But then she decided to go back to the Shadowfell portal we’d discovered earlier in the campaign, and after a bit more deliberation, she decided to jump through alone. Not the smartest move on her end lmao.

Quick little recap, the last time the party had been in the Shadowfell was when we’d been hired to steal two magical simulacrum (that weirdly looked like our warlock of the party) from the Queen of Shadows, accidentally drove her insane in the process, and left with guards on our tails. We’d also learned the realm was suffering from a curse that was turning it’s inhabitants into stone and Lucéena had also met her biological dad in the castle. While her feelings on him are… mixed at best she was still concerned enough about his well being that she wanted to check in on him. Time doesn’t run at the same rate between realms. Every hour in the Shadowfell is roughly 4 in the material plane and the party kind of had their hands full with other things. We haven’t had the chance to return since we made that huge mess and time in the Shadowfell was juuuust starting to reach a point where Lucéena was concerned with what was happening. She though this bit of down time would be the perfect opportunity to go in, send a messenger to him and leave without going to the most dangerous parts of the Shadowfell or endangering/inconveniencing her friends.

Unfortunately… she hadn’t predicted the Shadowfell queen to be waiting on the other end with warriors by her side. After a brief exchange of words combat started and it became painfully obvious Lucéena was outnumbered and outclassed. She was chased up the tower this side of the portal was housed within and after fucking up her attempt to hide, the queen found her and used command to make her fall out of the highest window, straight to her death.

Cutting back to the material plane, the others had realized Lucéena was missing and after sending spells not going through and asking for guidance from a powerful wizard friend, they eventual did figure out where she’d gone.

Once through the portal they saw signs of a struggle but no one was around. They eventually climbed all the way up the tower and then looked out the same window Lucéena had fallen out of and saw her laying there, dead. They quickly ran to her, but by now it was long past due for a typical revivification to work. And then just as they were beginning to discuss next steps, the queen showed up and she started puppetting her body into fighting them D:

While this was happening the dm and I had an aside and to help the part out we’d agreed that I’d come back as my last campaign’s character: my stupid beloved cleric/ranger, Zachriel. I’m not sure how helpful it was, but it was fun interacting with everyone as the dumb guy they got to play with before! After the queen was defeated I even had the weird opportunity to try and resurrect my own character with raise dead! Only it didn’t work.

There was a presence blocking the magic. One that was celestial in nature. That was all Zachriel was able to tell about it and Eclipse, our main cleric, was all out of spells. At this point, our warlock Fenix pulled himself aside, and reached out to his patron. He ask them to heal her, to “put her back” and he would pay any price. His patron heard him. Upon that request, Fenix cast true resurrection on Lucéena and disappeared in a flash of white-hot light…

…and Lucéena opens her eyes. Both of them. As part of true resurrection, the target of the spell receives outstanding rejuvenation. Any missing limbs/organs are restored and any disease present at the time of their death is cured. So upon the spell being cast Lucéena’s scarring was healed and her damaged eye was replaced with an orange-pupiled one, just like Fenix’s.

Fenix’s spell not only brought back Lucéena. All of the people that had been turned to stone were bright back as well! We could hear people down the halls, confused, wanting to know what was going on. And for the first ever time in the Shadowfell we could hear a full city of people outside.

[greymoonfeelings]

Let Me

pairing: rhett abbott x gn! reader

word count: 650

warnings: porn w/o plot, handjob, sub! rhett

•••

Rhett leans his forearm on the wall behind you, bracing himself as he cages you against the beige tile of the shower. Your hands delicately trace up his sides attempting to comfort him. Under the stream of warm water and your gentle touch, the tension he’s been harboring in his body washes down the drain like a string of suds.

Your hand finds Rhett’s resting by his side. You intertwine your pruning fingers and trace the pad of your thumb over his bruised knuckles. Every drop of water trails down his body like some kind of maze. It’s entrancing and so are the sighs of content spilling past Rhett’s lips.

Rhett’s eyes are half closed from the bliss of the steam filling the room but you still manage to catch his gaze. His baby blues have gone dark, clouded by desire. You press sweet kisses along his sternum, stopping every few inches to suck a dark red mark that stands out against his pale skin.

“Can I take care of you, baby?” Your voice is like velvet, soft and kind. Rhett could listen to you talk all day, but right now all he wants is your touch. He nods in response to your question, too breathless to speak.

A deep groan escapes Rhett’s throat as your hand trails down his front. His cock stirs against your palm, twitching in anticipation. His heavy balls come to rest against your thigh as you nudge it up between his legs.

“You’ve been working too hard lately taking care of everyone else, now let me take care of you.”

Wrapping your lips around one of Rhett’s nipples, you switch between sucking on the bud and flicking it with your rigid tongue. Rhett shutters above you as you lavish the peak. Your mouth works in tandem with the flick of your wrist to bring him pleasure.

After being with Rhett for so long, you know exactly how to work him. He usually likes it fast and hard. It’s an act reserved for when he needs a quick way to get off before a rodeo or during a lunch break. Right now though, you know he needs you to be gentle. He doesn’t just need to get off but needs to be taken care of. The praises being mumbled against his toned chest let him know that he is loved.

“Does that feel good, sweet boy?” With each languid stroke, Rhett becomes more vocal. His whimpers echo throughout the bathroom as you jerk him off.

“*Mmhm*” He agrees. “Feels so good,” he moans as you squeeze his cock. Your thigh rubs up between his parted legs, kneading his tender balls.

“You’re doing so good for me.” You press another kiss to his chest. “I love you so much, Rhett.”

“I-*fuck*! I’m gonna cum.”

“That’s it baby, cum for me.” The movements of your hand speed up. Rhett’s hips jolt forward as he chases his high.

His eyes clamp shut, brows knit together as his face contorts in bliss. With another tug, Rhett blows his load all over your stomach.

His rough voice thins as he chants, “Thank you, thank you, thank you” into the skin of your neck as more cum spurts from his flushed tip.

Continuing to milk him for all he’s worth, you only let up when he starts squirming in your grasp. Rhett’s forehead falls against your shoulder as he all but collapses against you. His broad shoulders sag as he molds his body against yours.

You can’t help but think that Rhett seems so small like this, so vulnerable with his much larger frame hunched over yours. It warms your heart that he trusts you so much to let his guard down. All you want to do is take care of him the way he deserves and with each day that passes, he becomes more willing to let you shoulder some of his burdens.

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

illicit affairs | thirteen

*Ellie’s POV* “Ellie, you still haven’t answered me.” I looked up at Noah as we waited in line to get drinks before the show started. I didn’t have an answer for him because what happened between Matt and I was eating me up for some reason. I felt awful for breaking his heart to the point he left without saying goodbye to me. Yes he texted me saying he wanted space and wanted to forget what happened…why as I having a hard time with that?

“Let’s just enjoy tonight, okay? We can talk about it after.” He didn’t seem convinced but he also didn’t argue with me either. I ordered myself a double tequila soda while Noah just got a club soda with lime since he stopped drinking. I had to admit it was pretty admirable and I wish I had the willpower to do the same, maybe one day. I followed him and we right to the floor, getting me excited to see how close we were. Noah nodded at a security guard and passed him a badge I didn’t know he even had. The security guard studied it, gestured for us to follow him. I was really confused as he brought us towards a row of chairs that were blocked off in front of the stage and let us in.  My jaw dropped as I grabbed the barricade, I can’t believe I was going to be this close to the band. “How did you…” “Being in this industry has its perks.” He whispered in my ear as the lights went dark. I just bit my lip, he was still so full of surprises. The concert was everything I dreamed of and I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face the entire time. The lead singer, Matty Healy smiled at us every time he walked by and he had the crowd in the palm of his hand. Noah and I forgot about our awkward conversation and enjoyed the night together. We danced and screamed the lyrics together and his hands would graze me from time to time. I stopped fighting it, I missed his touch more than I thought I did. 

Somebody Else starting playing and I could feel tears wanting to fall from the nostalgia. I played this song a lot last year and it always reminded me of Noah. I started to sing along to it and I felt Noah’s frame behind me. He wrapped his arms around me, resting his head on top of mine. I fell into his embrace as my eyes closed, feeling the low vibration of his voice as he sang along. The song was almost done and I felt his lips against my temple, making my heart melt. I turned my head slightly to kiss his cheek but I was met with his mouth. He spun me around, wrapping his hands on either side of my neck as kissed me even harder. We broke away and neither of us could wipe our smiles off our faces. The song ended and it sounded like I was underwater. The music disappeared and it felt as if we were the only ones in the room. I spend all year chasing that feeling and I finally had it back. 

“Ellie, it’s try again.” Noah softly said as he lowered his head to my ear. His lips found their way onto my neck, pressing against a spot that would make me say yes to anything, “I think we deserve another chance to be together.” After the show was over, we went back to my apartment. Not much was said on the way home, we were making out like teenagers in the back of the Uber. I left the driver a massive tip for being exposed to that. I sat down on my bed as Noah knelt in front of me, taking my shoes off. That tension from before was back and it filled my bedroom, along with an awkward, painful silence. “I’m still waiting for an answer from before.”

“I’m sorry.” I felt tears pricking my eyes. “I really believe that you’ve changed, but you need to understand that I have some doubt.” “I don’t think this about what happened with me.” He snapped. “You’re clearly hung up on Matt.”

Fuck, he could read me like a book, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Ellie, you don’t fool me.” He replied as he leaned against my wall, burning a hole through me with those dark eyes. “He left without saying goodbye to me this morning. It’s just hard to wrap my head around.” “Are you in love with him?” He asked with such a sadness in his voice, as I looked up at him I noticed his own eyes were glistening with tears. Seeing this hurt him was tearing me apart. “No.” “Ellie…” “I’m not!” I screamed as I stood up, staring right through him this time. “I want to be with you so desperately Elliot, but I don’t know if I can if you’re hung up on him. Someone I work with and consider a brother, by the way.” He huffed as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Why him?” “It just happened, I’m sorry.” I cried, mere inches away from him. His eyes locked on me like it was life or death.

“Tell me the fucking truth Elliot.” He was so angry, it was starting to scare me. His arms were crossed, towering over me as his eyes almost went black. I took a step back, only to fall onto into a heap on my bed. “Fine! I got with him to get back at you because you acted like such a fucking prick at the concert the other night. I thought if I did that I’d get over you but …” “You fell in love with him?” I shook my head, sitting back up as he stayed hovering over me. “I developed feelings for him, but not love. It wasn’t love.” “Who do you love?” He whispered, tipping my chin up so I could look at him. His hand ran down either side of my neck and stayed there, causing my breath to hitch. “You.” He applied pressure, “why don’t I believe it.”

“I can prove it if you’d prefer that.”

[grippingbeskar]

sworn to you

loki x fem!reader

word count: 7.7k

warnings: ADULT CONTENT MINORS DNI (fingering, oral (f receiving), voyerism kinda, mxf intercourse) general sexual content, swearing, mention of weapons, odins a shitty dad

a/n: in case u haven’t noticed I cannot write a short fic so i hope yall have a fucking snack!!!! i’m doing a re watch of the loki show so this is what u get YAY ENJOY!!! btw this gif exactly looks like a part of this fic so im gonna put a little a/n at the scene so u can picture it like i did okay im going now!!

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Please rise and join me in welcoming the Asgardian Royal Family.” You hear from behind the two giant doors in front of you, and instantly you snap into action. Your back straightens and mind goes blank, allowing years of training to guide you through the motions. You are proud of your job, you worked so hard for so long, sacrificed friendships and relationships, all for this. The most prestigious job in all the realms, guarding Odin and his family.

You were damn good at it too. Top of your class, you were at the front of every battle, leading your own battalion at 21. You were lethal, you had to be, a girl becoming a warrior was its own set of battles no one else in your class had to face. Even Odin himself doubted your abilities, you had to present your case in front of his family in order to progress into the royal guard, and it was only when the youngest of them hand selected you as part of his personal guard that they gave you the chance to prove yourself.

Ever since then, you have been working twice as hard as anyone else, wanting to prove to the rest of the family you were worth their trust, and not wanting to let your oath-sworn prince down.

Your relationship with Loki was… complicated. He was your prince, and you would die for him if the time came. He was also the only reason for your career in the guard, and you owed him for that. But, it was also true what the rumours said about the god of mischief, because he was also the bane of your existence.

He made your job so, so hard. Ever since your induction he had tested your attitude , your abilities and your patience. He snuck out constantly, and as leader of his guard it was your job to keep him safe, so you would have to be the one chasing him out of bars, constantly breaking up fights, killing countless men who tried to take him out because of something he’d most definitely caused, and just generally being a royal pain in your ass. He called you uptight, a bore, and maybe that was true, but this was your job, and you had given everything to be here, so you’d be damned if he ruined it over a night in bed with a few courtians.

Marching into the large throne room, Loki was right behind you, and you could hear him muttering and grumbling about whatever niche detail about the day had put him in a sour mood. Whenever he was in a bad mood your attention was heightened ten fold, because a bored Loki was a dangerous one. Your eyes scanned the room, looking for anything out of place as you ascended towards Loki’s throne, taking your place behind him. He smirked at you as he sat down, turning around and motioning for you to lean down so he could speak.

“How is my dutiful guard today? Kill any mindless oafs this morning?” You retain the urge to roll your eyes, the entire court of Asgard currently milling around in front of you, waiting for Odin to begin.

“Not yet. But it’s early.” He laughs and winks at you, and you wish you could rip out the butterfly that floats in your stomach as he does so and stomp it under your boot. You do NOT have a crush on him, and the last thing you would do is jeopardise your position, Lokis reputation as a ‘ladies and man’s man’ already causing false rumours about how you really got your position. You don’t listen, and know that if anyone ever said it to your face you would show them exactly how you earnt this spot, but you can’t help noticing his objective attractiveness. After all, there’s a reason he beds so many people.

“How long is this.. thing supposed to go? It seems futile I even have to attend.” Royal family members are required to attend Odins address, and although you agree they can be, well, boring, you both had to sit through them for what was most likely hours as he addressed all the concerns of the court and updated them on the things he and the guard had been doing the past week. You didn’t need to hear it, you lived it, but your main job here was protecting Loki, and that was definitely not boring.

“You know Odin. He loves to talk to his people.” You stay objective, even though Loki bad mouths the King every day.

“More like loves the sound of his own voice.” He scoffs and crosses his legs, leaning back in his chair with his head resting on his hand, clearly uninterested. Spending so much time around him, you’ve begun to recognise signs of trouble, and with Loki that trouble is almost always magical. Your mother was a mage, so you know what magic looks like and can even practise a little, nothing compared to his power but enough that you can quell some of his smaller and stupider advances. So when you see a small bowl of fruit begin floating up from the banquet table mid way though Odins offical address, you tighten the hands on your staff.

“Loki…” you grit through your teeth, trying to keep your face neutral. You see him look at you, and a hand flicks up, sending the bowl high in the air. You reach out your own magic, a hue of red mixing with his green around the now levitating fruit. He pouts.

“You never have any fun, my love. Lets liven this party up a bit, shall we?” Ignoring the well in your chest at his endearing nickname, the feeling is quelled when he pegs a giant, round shaped fruit at the largest man in the room, a bald lord with his back to the other side. Immediately he turns, and shoves the man behind him, who reacts by smashing his fist into his face. Loki claps and laughs, clearly amused, and with a flick of your own hand you signal to your men on the ground to break up the fight.

You have them trained well, and they weave through the crowd with expert efficiency, but before they can reach them the fight ripples through the crowded floor, and you can count roughly fifteen perpetrators already. You can’t help but shoot Loki a deadly glare as you move from your post behind him, shouting an order to the rest of your men who were holding back. The crowd is soon flooded with the golden armour of your commanded army and they pull dozens of lords and ladies apart, some being dragged from the room and others arrested. You think you might have to get in there and take them on yourself when a booming voice from behind shouts a single worded order, making both you and Loki shudder under its authority.

“SILENCE!” Odin shouts, and the entire room stills. The slam of his own staff into the marbled floor cracks it, and when Odin turns to face Loki, you thank the stars for your training making you able to hold your face plain in spite of the melting fear he strikes into you. “Am I wrong to suppose this was your doing, boy?”

You don’t miss the little wince that Loki tries to cover at the demeaning address, and he straightens on his chair. He opens his mouth to respond but Odin just raises a hand at him, and then looks at you.

“Once again, your short comings to control the court have impacted me. Do you have anything to say for yourself, guard?” Odin has only spoken directly to you a handful of times, all of them being when you haven’t been able to stop Loki in time from causing whatever trouble he’d decided to created, but this was personal. He remembered your failings, and you couldn’t help but think it was more because of what you were than your actions.

“My king, I apologise for the disturbance. My men-“

“Your men have been fighting like children with the lords for the past thirty seconds. Is this a reflection of your training?” You take a quick look at the guard, the fighting has mostly stopped apart from the two guards currently holding down the bald men who started the fighting. You have trained them not to use any kind of lethal force unless absolutely necessary, and you knew if you had commanded it your men would have cut down anyone in the room efficiently, but this was their court, and it was just a dumb fight, no life needed to be lost over this.

You didn’t say any of this though, you only shook your head and began formulating a reply.

“My king, I-“

“She was acting according to my actions. If your looking to throw blame, I would bare it.” Loki cuts you off and he stands, his posture casual. He has only stood up to his father once before on your behalf, and that was when you petitioned to join the guard all those years ago, but you are still shocked when he does it so publicly, feeling the entire rooms eyes on you.

“Often I do blame you, as you so often are the cause. But perhaps I am wrong, if she cannot control someone as malleable as you, how would she command my legions? Lead my men in battle? Perhaps we need to reassess your capabilities, if this is the result of such a small indiscretion.” The wind leaves you when he stops talking, the words cutting you open and flaying you from the inside out. Your eyes burn and your legs threaten to give out under you, the embarrassment of being chided in front of hundreds of Asgards most respected and the men you had trained, who followed your orders.

“I am sorry to have disappointed you, my King. I will deal with this immediately.” You bow your head and your grip is painfully tight on the hilt of your dagger. You waited to be dismissed, hearing Lokis uneven breath beside you.

“See that you do. You may go, take these miscreants with you. Oh, and take my youngest, I have many matters to discuss, and it seems only Thor is mature enough to hear them.” You look up once, seeing the golden prince on the other side, his face pulled together in an apologetic grimace, looking straight at you. Thor had always been kind to you, knowing his brothers indiscretion’s better than anyone, apart from you. You nod and bow again, taking the stairs two at a time, hearing Loki trail behind you.

You shout orders to your men, and a few of them mumble apologies to you as you direct them. They have nothing to apologise for, it was a small fight in court and they handled it exactly how they should have, with the cleanliness and respect these people deserve, and without a single drop of blood spilt. They remove anyone who is still acting aggressive, although everyone has mellowed since the Kings outburst. Within another ten seconds the room is cleared, and you close the doors of the throne room when the last royal guard drags the bald man out.

Loki says your name, softer than he ever has. You face him, the mixed feelings of anger and embarrassment exhausting you, and you can’t hide the tear that falls down your face when you meet his gaze.

“What else, Loki? What could you possibly have to say to me?” He swallowed and took a step towards you before he spoke.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen. I swear it.” You laugh drily, and your throat burns in anticipation of your reply.

“Well, surprisingly your word means very little to me right now.”

“I wouldn’t have embarrassed you like that. I, of all people, would never incur my fathers wrath on anyone.” This you know is true, having been witness to a number of his fathers verbal dressing downs, having to stand there emotionless while Odin screamed at Loki for the smallest of mistakes. If you were honest you understood why he acted the way he did, but it made none of your work any easier.

“You still did it, though. Didn’t you? I’ve said this a thousand times, but no matter what, you will do whatever you want, never thinking about the kinds of consequences everyone around you has to deal with.” You’ve never spoken to him like that, he was your prince, your oath-sworn, but Odin threatened your job. That was the last straw.

“I will fix it. I will speak to my father. He will never threaten your position again.” Loki goes to walk away, but stops as he sees your shaking head and wry smile.

“It doesn’t matter. His opinion of me will never change, today just proved it to him.”

“What does that mean?” Was he seriously that unobservant?

“Odin will never see me as a true royal guard. He was waiting for me to make a mistake, prove his misinformation , and now I have. Didn’t you hear the way he spoke about me? ‘She’. He thinks of me as just that, a woman, out of her place. I never even would have made it out of basic training if you didn’t take pity on me, God knows why.” Another tear burns it’s way down your face and you let it, hoping the humiliation of crying in front of your prince will make you melt into the floor and disappear forever. Loki says nothing and you begin to walk back down the hallway, having to deal with the dozens of arrested lords awaiting your orders. “Forget it. Try not to get yourself killed over the next few hours. I need to work this out.” Marching past him, you follow the voices of your guards murmuring your name.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Hours go by, listening to the droning of the petty issues of the court, them trying to justify why the fight got so out of hand. Unlike the royal family, you outrank these people, therefore you don’t have to take any of their lies. Standing from your seat, you march over and draw your dagger.

“Okay. I’ve had enough. Do you know the kind of scene you caused during the royal address?” The two lords kneeling in front of you begin to speak, but you hold your dagger out to them and they swallow their words. “It was violent. Unhinged. You saw how upset the King was. Some say he considers this mutiny. He has even called for public executions of the perpetrators. Says the safety of his court depends on how he treats his criminals.”

None of this was remotely true, Odin probably forgot about the whole thing the minute he got into the wine, but it does the trick, both of the lords a mess of quivering lips and sincere apologies. You roll your eyes, letting the blade dangle in your hands, a visual threat of their imagined future.

“Lock them in the cells for the night. Maybe a night with the worst of them will inspire more courtly behaviour.” The guards grab them and wait for your order to drag them out. “And if I see either of you step a royal toe out of line, I will cut it off. Am I understood?” They nod rapidly and you cut a look at your guards, who instantly drag them out and down to the cells. They would be fine, fed a meal of royal proportions and given a bed and bath, but you have no doubt they would recount it as the most terrifying experience of their lives, and that would be enough for you. You had enough royal shit for one day, and you leave the room, instructing your second in command to take over. He lands a hand on your shoulder, stopping you before you can leave.

“You didn’t deserve that. You know we have your back.” He is sincere and locks his eyes on you. Smiling, his words reassure that you are at least doing something right.

“Thankyou, Sam. But it’s fine, my ego is wounded more than anything.”

“That God of Mischief will get himself kicked out of the royal family soon enough, and he’ll be someone else’s problem. Once Thor ascends the throne, it will be a new era, and you will be at the front of it, all of us behind you.” You pull him in for a hug, Sam’s constant support and good advice a comfort over the years of training.

His words, however, give you pause as you leave the room, trudging down the steps to your quarters. Would Loki be kicked out of the royal family when Thor ascends? Thor loves him too much, but it does make you think that maybe Loki would leave of his own accord. Would you be forced to follow him, guard him off world? Would you do it willingly?

Yes, he drives you insane, and his constant trouble making was probably going to send you to an extremely early grave, but outside the confines of court, he was sincere. You owed him your life and your job, and even though today was technically his fault, there was no one to blame but Odin for the embarrassment you felt.

When you finally reach your room, you throw your staff in the corner and shed the top layers of your golden armour, letting the heavy weight drop off your shoulders and onto the floor, setting sun streaming in the window making the golden flecks dance in the mirror in front of you. Removing your weapons belt and sliding the heavy pants off, you step out of them leaving you in just the singlet you wear under your armour, tiny shorts and the dagger in your hand. You go to place it back in it’s hilt when you hear something.

It’s such a small sound, if you weren’t who you are you probably wouldn’t have picked up on it. The tiniest of clicks, you crouch and see the side of a boot underneath the door of your bathroom. You fall into battle mode instantly. Your sword is too far to reach in one movement, but the dagger will be enough to take down whoever is on the other side. Keeping low, the door is already opened slightly, and you push it open with your magic, a tiny red sparkle sending enough wind to swing it open, and you launch, grabbing the tall mass of person and slamming them into the wall, your dagger just inches away from their throat and your knee digging into their toned abdomen. Green armour contrasts under your skin, and you drag your gaze to the perpetrators face, inky black hair out of place, strewn over ice blue eyes you would be able to pick anywhere.

“Loki! What the fuck are you doing in my bathroom!?”

“Clearly I’m being held hostage. Do you mind?” He looks down to the dagger you hold at your princes throat, and he swallows, his throat kissing the blade. You don’t move, and instead push your knee into him harder.

“I am well within my rights to cut you down. Answer me. What are you doing in here?” Instantly your brain thinks he’s done something to your room, maybe stolen something, probably just going through your stuff for the fun of invading your privacy. He looks at you and these thoughts disappear, a look of sincerity flashing in his pretty blue eyes.

“I was hoping to- to..”

“Loki! What?!”

“I was coming to apologise! Do you want to remove the dagger from my throat now?!” He pushes against you and you let him, placing the silver metal on the sink next to you with a loud ‘clang’.

“You scared the shit out of me.” Gone was your formal tone, currently standing in front of him in nothing but a singlet and shorts, only they were hardly shorts, doing nothing to cover anything but the bare minimum.

“Yes, well, do you often try to stab your visitors? No wonder you don’t get many.” He walks closer to you, picking up the dagger and inspecting it.

“You were hiding out in my bathroom! Visitors tend to come when your home, and fully clothed! Also what do you know about how many friends I have.” You defend. He was right, your job allowed for practically zero interaction with anyone apart from those you were employed with.

“You don’t think I keep just as close an eye on you as you do on me? I’m insulted.”

“Why do you care who visits me?”

“I don’t.” Loki drops your dagger and your gaze. His hand draws the pattern of jewels that line the spine of it, and you can’t pull your eyes off the way his hands move. You kind of hate him right now, but his touch is light, the dagger not moving under his fingers. You suck in a breath when he moves his hand towards you and then pulls it back. It takes you a minute to find words, any words.

“So, you came to apologise?” He seems to be struggling the same, and he physically shakes his head to remember where he is.

“Yes. I’m sorry, for today. I jeopardised your position.” You sigh, relaxing your stance even though you are very aware of how little clothes you have on, and of Lokis wandering gaze.

“It’s fine. I was angry before, but it’s fine.”

“No. It’s- my father is not a good man. He would absolutely strip you of your titles, of everything you worked for.” You suddenly start to feel nervous.

“Is this supposed to be helping?”

“Um, no. What I’m trying to say is he would do these things, but not because you deserve them. I should never have tested him today and I-“ he swallows. You’ve never seen him anything but cocky and confident, only when he is being berated by his father does that demeanour drop. You have to ask, because your partly confused, and a very small part of you is lit on fire by his words.

“Why would he do that, then? Why embarrass me, why threaten my entire life over a courtly argument, if not because I deserve it?”

a/n: this is where i picture the gif at the start :( “Because he hates me, and will destroy anything I hold dear to keep me in line.” Your mouth drops open a little and you step back. The room spins a little and you blink a couple times to make sure you aren’t dreaming. Was that supposed to be a confession?

“Loki. I am your guard.”

“Yes. I know.” He doesn’t move and your grateful he gives you a moment to adjust. “I just wanted to apologise. I will leave you, but know this.” His hand reaches out to you and you don’t even think before you extend your own towards him, keeping the air between you. He brushes a light kiss to your knuckles and his lashes close when he connects with your skin.

“Know what?” you whisper and his lips leave you. You find yourself longing for more of it, more of him in a way you’ve never allowed yourself to think of.

“Know that I would bring this court, this family to its knees for you, if you would only say the word. They would never dare to embarrass you, to question you, to look in your direction. If you were mine, they would worship you, as would I.” With that, he turns and leaves, and with your inhale you try to scramble air into your lungs, feeling like your breath leaves with him.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You didn’t sleep a wink, tossing and turning, your brain never being about to stop thinking about Lokis confession. You can’t say he didn’t turn up feelings inside of you that you hated to admit, but everything is so complicated with him.

There are days where you think you could kill him. Spending countless nights chasing him down, having to deal with enemy after enemy, constantly being on edge. He’s the reason you are so uptight, that and your job practically forcing you to be a stickler for the rules. But there are also times that you see him, the real him, and you know he’s more than the front he puts on.

The day he chose you for his personal guard, he’d said that the last thing he was, was traditional, and that he wasn’t going to pick the biggest guy in the room, but he was going to pick the smartest. There was the day when those two kids broke a priceless jewel in the throne room, and he spent the entire night projecting illusion after illusion to make sure they didn’t get in trouble from their father, who so obviously reminded him of his own. Then there was last night, his delicate touch such a contrast from the power you know those hands hold, and his words that dripped promise and valour. He made you absolutely crazy.

Was this thing something that was even possible for you? There were already rumours of how you slept your way to the top, were you willing to possibly destroy your entire career to explore this? Your job meant everything to you, you told yourself, but it’s only because it was so consuming that you never had the time to think of anything outside of it. Now that the opportunity had presented itself, however, in the form of a gorgeously irritating god, you started to realise what you might be forfeiting.

You could see the top of Lokis head in the seat in front of you as you stood in the throne room again, praying today went off without a hitch. Some general was talking about some battle you effortlessly led and won a few weeks ago, but your name is never mentioned, only attributing the success to himself, even though you were technically his superior. Is this the kind of court you want to dedicate your eternity to? To a man you fear, a man who treats his own sons like they must compete for his compassion? Lokis words have seemingly opened your eyes, and as much as you love the life style that comes with being who you are, and the sacrifices you’ve made to get here, you start to think that maybe it isn’t enough for you if you have to give up anything else.

You haven’t spoken to Loki since he left last night, you barely made it in time to march in today. Like he can feel your thoughts turning over, he looks up at you, his eyes piercing straight into your own. You can see him there, so when his voice, smooth as velvet, comes in your ear, you nearly drop your staff in front of everyone.

“You know, it’s highly unprofessional to threaten your prince with a dagger.” He whispers and you can hear his smile. You don’t respond, because the hundreds of faces staring up at the man giving a speech would surely notice if you starting talking to your self. You know it’s an illusion now, the shimmer on top of the head in front of you hinting that the real Loki stands behind you, so close you can feel the warmth of him. Most people can’t tell which one is real, the difference only noticeable to you because you spent so much time staring at the wrong ones. You just scoff at him, and he catches on. “You can speak freely.”

His hand comes on your shoulder and the familiar touch of his magic fills your body. You can no longer be seen or heard by the crowd, taking a step back and seeing a perfect illusion of yourself standing behind the perfect illusion of him, unmoving.

“Well I would say it’s unprofessional to break in to your guards room and stare at her in her underwear, so I guess we’re even.” You turn to face him and a smirk crosses his face, one he usually pulls when he’s about to do something that will end poorly for the both of you.

“If that is what your underwear looks like, no wonder you don’t have many visitors.” You think back, and remember the tattered white singlet you wore and small black shorts. You cross your arms.

“Why are you so obsessed with who’s visiting me? You know what, never mind. We shouldn’t be doing this.” You turn to return to your post but he’s way too fast, appearing in front of you.

“You know why, my love.” He purrs, but he doesn’t make any physical moves. Your fists close around your staff, hoping to alleviate some of the pressure. “Does my dutiful guard have any choice words for her prince, or will she leave him out in the cold?”

“Loki.” His head dips to meet your gaze which is staring somewhere, anywhere but his face. He’s a foot taller than you, so he has to dip quite a bit, but when he finds you, your eyes follow him back up to where he stands.

“I won’t force you to answer. I know I do not offer much besides the destruction of everything you have built, but I would give you all the nine realms to command, if only you would be mine.” Gods, his words were so pretty and laced with promise, it made you weak at the knees. His face was honest, no longer a mask hiding his true intentions, and you were the only one who could see it.

“I wouldn’t need any of that.” You say quietly, and you can see his eyes widen a little, surprised to get any answer at all.

“But I would offer it regardless. You deserve it all.” You breath harder, and he steps closer.

“You know I fucking hate you sometimes, right?” He smiles a little and nods. “Like, you seriously drive me insane. Up the wall, batshit crazy. You make me feel…”

“What? How do I make you feel?” His hand comes under your chin, his fore finger curling under and holding your gaze up at him.

“I don’t know.” You answer honestly. You have no idea what it is, and you haven’t ever stopped long enough to figure it out. “It feels like I’ve swallowed fire every time I’m around you. I’ve never felt anything so..”

“Intense. Passionate.” You nod and blink at him. “I know, love. I feel it, too.” You sigh and his touch leaves you, you find your head tilting forward slightly to chase it. “As I said, I will not force your hand. I know what this would mean for you.” He goes to turn back to resume his position but your hand grabs his wrist, not letting him leave for a second time.

“I don’t know what this is, and you do make me crazy. Insane.” He isn’t looking at you, but instead your hand on his wrist. “But I do know one thing.”

“And that is?” His eyes find their way to you, and you know.

“That I want this. Want you. Want you to-“ His hand comes to your face, and he kisses you, snatching all the breath from your lungs as he devours you. He kisses you like he’s never tasted anything like it and he wants to savour it, not knowing how long it will last. You kiss him back with just as much ferocity, your lips and teeth and tongues fighting for dominance. His free hand drops to your hip and pulls you into him, your armour clashing against his own and there’s too much in between the two of you.

You press against him as much as you can, the hand on your hip snaking behind your back, and it’s only when people start clapping that you remember where you are, and that it’s not just you and Loki.

“Wait. Wait.” Somehow you find it in yourself to pull away, and the look in his eye, so focused on you makes you press another kiss to his lips before he can speak.

“What is it, my love?” Your eyes dart behind him before finding his face. Your view is obscured and you can only just see the heads of a few of the members of the crowd having walked back so far. He catches on and pulls you back to him. “They can’t see. I’ve made it so. Even if they could, let them watch. Let them see how devoted I am to you. Let them watch as I make you feel things no other would ever make you feel. Let them wish they were us.”

You are the one to pull him to you now, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and slamming him into you. The kiss was messy and you loved it, it seemed just to the journey you were about to go on with him. He slipped his tongue into your mouth and his hand found his way into your hair, pulling slightly and you moaned in his mouth.

“Does that excite you, my sweet? Do you relish in the idea of showing all of those self serving wretches below you what they will never have? I think you like that.” He kisses down your neck and you can’t help the shiver that slips up your spine, the warmth of his mouth contrasted with the surprising cold touch of his hand on the back of your neck.

You are wearing too many clothes, he is not close enough. The hand on the back of your neck slips out of your hair and travels down your back, only feeling the occasional slip of his fingers when they come across an unarmed part. The anticipation of not knowing how fast or slow he was moving only drove the growing heat in your face and stomach, and when his hand stops on the hem of your trousers, you nearly whimper when he lifts the slip of your shirt and connects with bare skin.

“Do you have any idea how long I have waited to feel the warmth of your skin under mine?” You shake your head, completely under his spell. “Ever since that day you knelt before me and outsmarted every oaf in that room on your formation day. That look in your eye, you took them down with just that. You were the most glorious being I had ever witnessed.”

Your breath shuddered and his hand slipped under your pants, eyes never leaving yours, waiting for your word. You just kissed him again, and when his hand touched you from the outside of your underwear you felt his smile.

“Ah, did you dress up for me, darling?” You knew he was referencing the lacy underwear you were currently sporting, somehow being two steps ahead of him from his comment earlier.

“Only for you.” You murmur in his mouth and that’s all it takes for him to fall on his knees in front of you. Without him standing there, you can see the faces of people listening intently to whatever the guy was droning on about, and you thank the stars that none of the other royal family members are here.

Lokis hands expertly work your armour away, tugging your pants down so you stand in front of him in just your underwear from the waist down. You can see both of the illusion versions of yourselves staring blankly into the crowd and you hope to the gods no one asks you a question, not sure how Loki would make you respond.

“Such a pretty sight.” He kisses your hips, then the sliver of skin just above your underwear, and then one just over the top before sliding them down your thighs. His hand comes in between you, instantly finding the place you need him most. You cry out as he works you slowly, suddenly patient. “Spread your legs for me, let me show you how much I adore you.”

Your cheeks flush at his sweet words and you do as he commands. He looks up at you and doesn’t break eye contact as his tongue glides over your clit and you let go of a strangled moan, biting your lip.

“I want to hear you. Let everyone hear how good your prince makes you feel.” His name comes out in a string of gasps and cries as he slides two long, slender fingers inside of you. He’s still looking at you, and the intensity of his gaze paired with the public nature of what you are doing makes your head spin.

“Taste so sweet, my love.” His eyebrows are furrowed in concentration and he uses his free hand to hold onto your thigh, forcing you down slightly. Your hands thread in his hair and you move your hips just a little to create more friction, and he moans along with you.

“Fuck! Loki - don’t stop, please don’t stop.” You beg and as soon as you say ‘please’ you hear him moan again, working you faster and faster. If that’s what he likes then that’s what you’ll give him if he keeps making you feel this alive. “Please! Please, my prince. Fuck..”

“You sound so pretty, begging for me. I’ll give you what you want.” He drives into you, fucking you with his hand and tongue until the heat becomes too much, so fast you cant register it and you cum all over his face, the hand on your back the only thing holding you upright.

Your orgasm hits you and it is overwhelming and all consuming. The faces of the crowd and your lifeless illusion disappear in a flash of white and you shout his name, grinding your hips on his face and pulling his hair wildly. He stands and grabs your face in his hand, still slick from being inside you, and the rawness of it is too much, your brain fizzling as he kisses you roughly. Your body still jerks a little going through the aftershocks of such an intense orgasm, so when he scoops you into his arms and you see the familiar green swirl of magic around you, you dont register you’ve moved until you land on the bed.

It takes you a moment to realise how you are on a bed, when seconds ago you were in the throne room listening to a speech about your stolen achievements. He must have transported you - no, teleported you to what you recognise as his chambers. They were twice the size of yours, and the bed was ten times as soft, the green and black bed sheets soft against your skin. Loki starts to take off his elaborate armour, but you jump off the bed and hold his wrists, him allowing you to move them away.

“Let me.” He nods, the soft look across his face pulls at your heart. You wonder if all those times he’s slept with people, if anyone has truly cared. If they had just been a quick and fast fuck, or if anyone had taken their time, drawn out their time with him. The way his eyes trace your hands as you slowly remove the top parts of his tunic make you think not.

You slide pieces of intricate clothes down his arms, over his shoulders and down his back. The more skin you reveal the more insatiable you become and he begins feeling the same, unclipping your armour and letting everything drop to the floor except the belt that holds the hilt of your dagger to your hip, the blade resting on your thigh. You were both naked, except for that dagger on your hip, and you move to unclip it when his hands stop you. He places a soft kiss under your jaw.

“Leave it on.” He whispers, and you fall back on the bed and he crawls on top of you. He was beautiful, there was no two ways about it, and you cant believe you ever doubted how much this moment right here would be worth. You would sacrifice everything for him, and you want to shout it from the rooftops. 

“I’ll give it up. The guard. If I have to.” You say in between kisses and he lays your head onto the pillows.

“You wont have it. I swear I will make this right for you.” He kisses your sternum then creates a line back up to your lips, the soft touches making you whimper and squirm underneath him. His hair falls over his face and tickles your cheeks as he watches you.

“I dont care. Whatever you want to do, I am sworn to you. No one else.” He slides into you as you say those words, and you both gasp and groan at the feeling of finally being close enough.

“No one else.” He echos, and pulls out all the way before rocking into you again, your eyes rolling back into your head seeing stars. 

He starts fucking you harder and you cant do anything but whimper and moan and shout his name. Your hands claw at his back and he kisses your collarbone as he holds himself above you by his forearms and slams into you, a groan leaving him every time he hits the wall of you.

“Thats right. Take it. How does it feel?” You know Lokis ego is big, but when he makes you feel this good, you will indulge whatever he asks of you.

“So fucking good! Please, give it to me.” You cry out as he picks up his pace, those stars covering your vision fading in and out as your second orgasm starts to build. 

“You take me so well, baby. You are made for me.” He murmurs against your skin and the name feels intimate, feels like you aren’t guard and prince, but just a boy and a girl finally falling together after years of pent up tension. 

You tighten around him, and the sound of Loki actually whimpering at the feel of you is enough to send you spinning into your next orgasm, him kissing your open mouth as you scream his name.

He chases you into his own release, the feeling of him cumming inside of you nearly enough to send you over the edge for the third time, and he doesn't stop fucking you until your hips stop moving and your body collapses underneath him, him sliding himself out and dropping next to you. Both of your bodies are hot and sweaty, but it doesn’t stop you both from pulling each other close, your face resting on his chest and both his arms wrapped around you, one hand lost in your hair. You stay like that a while, knowing as soon as you speak the spell will be broken and you will have to face whatever future you hold.

“I meant what I said.” You speak, and he kisses your forehead.

“I know, and so did I. You should not have to lose your career. Not for me.” You hate the way he thinks of himself, as if he is not worthy.

“I would. You are worth that for me. I dont need the armour or the swords or the respect. You are more than enough.” You are sure of it now, no job would beat the feeling of right now, laying in his arms as he breaths under you, heart beating in time with your own.

“And I do not need anything but this.” Your head flips to look at him, and he looks down at you.

“You mean-”

“Yes. I don’t need my family, this palace, these realms, not if I can have you.” You straddle him, flipping over and pinning him to the bed and you kiss him, soft and sweet.

“We can figure it out later. Sneaking around can be sexy, anyways.” You smile and he laughs, moving you on his chest as he does, and you never realised how little you see him smile like that, a genuine, happy smile.

“Who knew the captain of my guard was such a fiend?” You roll your eyes.

“Its cause Ive spent too much time around you.” He pulls you down for another kiss and you sigh into it, completely content. “We could just start our own realm. Take over ourselves.” He leans his forehead agains yours.

“You and me?” You nod.

“You and me.” He smiles and kisses you again, and for once in your life, you relax. 

[solarwonux]

59.  “I’m still sore from last night.”

single dad!jungkook x f!reader

w.c: 2.3k

warnings: fluff, non-penetrative unprotected sex. Jungkook thinks too much lol.

note: hello, first and foremost, THANK YOU FOR 1K. I’m over the moon honestly, I found out while I was on my mini vacation and it just made it 10x better so thank you so much. Anyway, I hope you like this one, it was so much fun to write, let me know your thoughts. Send me a prompt or two if you’d like. hehe <3

sequel

MASTERLIST || PROMPTS

The single ray of light peeked through the slit of Jungkook’s dark curtains, making his eyelids flutter open in discomfort. He sat up on his elbows, looking over at your splayed-out body occupying the usual empty spot next to him. Arm lying lazily around his midriff and leg wrapped around his waist. In a poor attempt to hold him hostage. He could easily slip out without waking you up, but this was a rare sight for him. You in his bed, hair messily fanning out against his dark pillows, and his sheets hanging off your naked body. Your skin glowing under the peeking sun rays of the morning sun, painting tiny sunspots all over your body. 

It was a rare sight for him because you rarely stayed over, and he wanted to revel in the quiet and still moment as much as he could. As much as you allowed him to do so. Before you woke up panicking peeling your limbs away from his body in a frantic sleepy search for your clothes that occupied every inch of his one-bedroom loft.

He was outgrowing it in every sense of the word. Last week he had to replace the crib in the far with a twin-sized bed, leaving little room to comfortably move around it. It had been proven to him last night when you accidentally bumped your knee into the corner of his daughter’s bed while you helped him clean up his place, while she was away at her grandparents for the weekend. 

It was why you had shamelessly decided to stay over. It was why he was able to wake up next to you. Why he was contemplating on waking you up so the two of you could hunt for apartments together. Why he had been turning the same sentences over in his head, looking for the right way to ask you to move in with him. To marry him. Would asking the two questions side by side be too overwhelming, or will knocking two birds with one stone be the right thing to do?

He didn’t know, this was all new to him. Haneul’s mother didn’t want her, didn’t love her and left her to him before disappearing without a trace. You were the first person he called when he arrived at the hospital to pick her up. Having his daughter in his arms, a daughter he had no idea he had until that morning, was terrifying and in the midst of his breakdown, he dialed your number. You were his best friend back then, now you were his girlfriend and the only mother Haneul had ever and will ever know. He wanted everything to be official but he didn’t know how or if he should.

Frustrated, he lays down again, running his hand down his torso until it reaches your hand. He walks his fingers up your arm in a ghostlike matter, while humming quietly, contemplating the ever-present questions that he always found himself swallowing. It was never the right time, but the right time never seemed to come, so maybe he should just blurt it out and then hide away. 

“Good morning,” you croak, sleep still present in your voice. A smile creeps onto Jungkook’s face, his thoughts fleeting to hide in the back of his mind again. He turns to face you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. 

“Good morning my beautiful girlfriend.” He hums leaving a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose before burying his head in your neck. You smelled like green tea and white sage; the scent of your body lotion and him. It made him feel calm. Though if he were to ever express that thought out loud you would just say that it was the work of your stress-free body lotion. But no, you smelled, felt like home to him and it made him feel calm. 

You twinkle your fingers down his bare back, the gnawing emptiness in the pit of your stomach returns. Your alone time with him was coming to an end and you hated it. “I have to get up, I have to go.” You whisper, planting a gentle kiss on the crown of his head. 

Jungkook makes a disappointed sound, tightening his hold around you. “No five more minutes.” He whines kissing down your neck and lifts his head. A smug smile painting his beautiful features. “I can convince you to stay.” He quirks a brow, rolling his hips into yours. 

“Babe.” You place a hand on his chest, your head hitting his pillow again, as the pleasure overtakes your body. “I-I can’t, I’m still sore from last night.” You breathe out as he grinds his half-hard cock against you. 

He hums, chest swelling up in disgusting testosterone-filled pride. He knows he rocked your world a few times last night. Still remembers how he had you screaming louder than usual underneath him, enough to have his neighbors banging furiously against his wall. “We don’t have to go all the way, we can just stay like this.” He whispers, kissing your temple, grinding his hips against yours experimentally. It was slow and careful. He didn’t want to work himself up to full mast without your verbal agreement. Jungkook always respected your boundaries and he knew your body better than anyone you had allowed to touch you in the past. So, if you were to tell him no as much as he wanted you not to he would stop without a complaint ever leaving his lips. 

You smile and push him down, straddling him. “Okay but relax, I could literally hear you thinking while I was still sleeping.” You roll your hips, your clit brushing against the tip of his fired-up cock.

He lets out a pleasure-filled sigh, resting his hands on your ass, “I got a lot to think about.” He winks before moving up his bed resting his back against the headboard of his bed, your chest now against his. “Keep going, I want to paint your pretty lips with my cum.” He mumbles kissing your cheek. 

“For a dad, you’re always horny. I thought having a kid would kill your sexual prowess.” You sigh running your wet pussy over his cock harder, your lips fluttering around him, ready to take him in fully. 

He laughs, bucking his hips against yours, a whimper falling out of your lips. “It did at first, remember?” He hisses when your clit brushes up against his angry head again. He wants to be inside you so badly, but he knows he’s already pushing it just with this, though, he can’t complain. When it comes to you, everything was euphoric. 

You nod, looking down at him with hooded lust-filled eyes, resting your palms against his shoulders to use him as leverage to go faster. “Y-Yeah, you couldn’t get it up for the longest time, now I swear, f-fuck, it doesn’t stay down.” You rest your forehead against his. 

Jungkook moves his hand between your bodies, his thumb on your clit, rubbing slow careful circles, making you jolt. “I can’t help it, you’re so sexy, everything you do is sexy.” 

“Mmm, don’t stop please.” You arch your back, your hard nipples brushing against his. The bars decorating them still catch you off guard. They had been an on the whim decision back in college during a particularly stressful finals week. You had held his hand throughout the entire piercing process and wiped away his tears as he made you swear not to tell anyone he cried in pain and came in his pants all at the same time. You did and have kept his secret ever since. Now using the ladder against him during sex.

He rubbed your clit fast, his cock trapped between the wet lips of your pussy, quiet pants falling out of chapped lips. The pleasure was building fast against the pit of your stomach, “I’m close baby, are you?” 

Jungkook hummed, grabbing hold of your hips and rolling them against him. The change of rhythm was much more intimate and arousing. There was no space between the two of you, your clit was brushing against the short course hairs against his mound, and it was driving you insane.

“Yes, baby, do you want me to pull away?” 

“No, no want to feel you close Kook.” You threw your head back, pulling on his hair, letting your desperate need take over your body. 

Jungkook moaned your name silently, moving your hips faster chasing both of your highs, “Gonna let me cum on you my sweet girl, gonna let me paint you with my cum. God, I wish I could fuck it into you after, but we can stop here, just let go please.” He bit down on your neck, making you arch your back. 

“Oh my-, I’m cumming Jungkook f-fuck.” You whimpered, letting your orgasm take over, moving your pussy harder against his cock, riding out your high. You looked so beautiful and fucked out, the image burning brightly inside the corner of his brain that kept all the dirty versions of you. Your swollen clit rubs over him one last time before he’s cumming. Hot sputters of his sticky white essence coating your cunt and his abdomen, your eyes wide as you watch him spill himself all over you, the immorality of it all, enough to get you going again if you could. 

“That was sexy.” Jungkook pants, making you roll your eyes. He leaves a delicate kiss against your collar bone before looking at you with soft doe pleading eyes. You never understood how he could have the dirtiest things spewing out of his mouth one second and the next he’s looking at you the same way Haneul does whenever she wants a chocolate bar before dinner. “Did I convince you to stay longer?” 

“Yes, but I might consider it more if you tell me what’s been bothering you since yesterday.” You tilt your head and stand up. Jungkook blushes when he truly assesses the mess the two of you had made, making his cock twitch at the sight. “Join me in the shower?” 

“Wait.” He wraps his fingers around your wrist and pulls you down on his lap again. “Not yet, wait a while please.” 

“Jungkook as much as I wanted to be covered in your cum, it’s a little gross to just stay here cuddling.” You pout, running your hands through his hair pushing his dark bangs back. 

“I know but,” he chews on his bottom lip, the questions from earlier return and he wonders if this is the right time. You sitting on his lap covered in his cum, or if he should wait until after the two of you have showered. This was truly driving him crazy and there was no way to hide from you because you knew him better than anyone else in this entire world.

“Babe, you're thinking again and loud. What’s wrong?” You run your index finger down the side of his, tracing the tiny minuscule freckles on his cheek connecting them. 

“This is so hard, I don’t know how to just ask you to marry me and move in with me. It’s been driving me up the wall for like two weeks now. And like I don’t even have the ring yet, because it’s still being made, but they told me it would take only two weeks and it’s been a month because they’re backed up but that’s okay because they're short on staff. But I wish I had everything with me because I want everything to be perfect, you deserve perfect always and fuck, I-I just want you here forever by my side. By Haneul’s side because you make us complete and god, I don’t know how to ask you.”

There was a brief silence before you’re bending over laughing against his chest. Jungkook is left there sitting dazed and confused holding you as you laughed against him. Did he say something funny?

“Jungkook, I think you just asked me?” You lift your head, placing a hand against your chest trying to calm your nervous laughter and the pounding over your heart. 

“Fuck,” he hits the palm of his hand with his forehead, his neck flushing red from embarrassment. “I didn’t want to ask you like that please, just forget about it.” He pleads sadly, tears brimming in the corner of his eyes. He wants the ground to swallow him whole. 

“I don’t want you to.” You say stubbornly wrapping your arms around his neck, “and I want to say yes I will move in and marry you, will you let me?” Your fingers play with the hair resting on the back of his neck making him shiver. 

He’s looking at you wide-eyed and in shock, “are you sure? We can forget about it and I can ask you when we’re not covered in cum and I have everything. I’ll even write a speech.” He says fast, his heart beating hard against his chest, threatening to fall out. The only other time he’s felt this way was when he held Haneul in his arms for the first time ever. 

You shake your head, pecking his lips softly, scrunching your nose, remembering that two of you still hadn’t brushed your teeth yet. “I don’t want a do-over, this was perfect, I mean I still want my ring so I can show it off, but this was perfect. It was us.”  

He lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders falling forward, letting the tension leave his body. He was stressed out for no reason. “I love you so much,” 

“I love you, now can we shower?” 

“Yes, and then we can get breakfast and pick up Haneul together?” 

“Sounds like a dream come true.”

[huggybug]

PART 1/2

brendan's parents were gone for the week, visiting family in Canada. brendan and jordan decided to throw a little party with their friends. you've known brendan since you were young so you just casually walked into the house. you expected to be the first one there but you heard voices yelling outside in the back yard.

you wonder over to the back. almost getting run over by brendan who was being chased guy one of the guys. you shake your head as you laugh.

"y/n! you made it!" bren yells as he notices you. using you as a human shield

thomas laughs at the guys from the other end of the yard. you whip you head to look at him. "bren never said you were coming" you ran over to thomas, hugging him

he engulfs you in a hug. his cologne filled your nostrils and your legs slighting gave out. you always had a thing for thomas.

you caught up with the guys before starting the actual party. you played beer pong for most of the night until you wanted to go for a swim.

"y/n where you going?" bren yelled from the table as you moved to the lounge chair to strip from your clothes into your bikini

you ignored him as you took your clothes off and dove into the pool. "this is the part where brendan is all over y/n. with bordy here will make it even worse" jordan huffs

"man that was so hot" jack says drooling over you

"wait i thought briss didn't like y/n" josh says to jordan

jordan shrugs and shakes his head "he's lying straight through his teeth and it's worse when he's been drinking and when bords is here. he gets jealous because he knows  y/n likes him"

"oh shit" josh says as he watches brendan walk to the edge of the pool

you didn't even notice brendan by the pool as you swam over to thomas. he was looking over at the beach, the sun was setting so you knew the view was nice. you poke his side and he looks down at you.

he smiles as he lowers himself into the pool. “you having a good time?” he asks you

you couldn’t even get a word out. brendan slide his arms around your waist, from behind. his head resting on your shoulder. you were used to brendan being touchy when he’s had a few drinking. so this was nothing new. except you didn’t know brendan was feeling extra jealous tonight.

you couldn’t get out of his grasp so you just let him be. you went to answer thomas but then brendan started kissing your shoulder. he slowly moved up your neck.

“brendan what are you doing?” you ask trying to turn around to face him

“Jor…” you turn to see all the guys had left. it was just the three of you in the pool

brendan got to your sweet spot and started sucking on it. “bren” you let out suddenly, not being about to control it.

his hands started to move upward to your boobs. you didn’t want to stop him, it felt so good. you could feel how hard he was on your ass. you looked over at thomas, who was now sitting in the ledge of the pool. he was adjusting his shorts and trying not to look at you and brendan.

brendan’s hands moved under you bikini top and squeezed your boobs. just as brendan stopped sucking on your neck. you smirked and swim out of his grasp. you swim up beside thomas, fixing your top. something went off in you and built up your confidence.

“do you need help with that?” you ask him as you look at the tent forming in the swim shorts

you caught him off guard “i ugh, i well” he looks at you, nervous as all hell. he swallows hard “ugh not here” he covers himself

brendan stifles a laugh “she’s practically begging you to fuck her and you decline the offer” he swims over to you

you couldn’t believe brendan’s words “i-i didn’t say that” you say pushing brendan away

“oh come on y/n. every time bordy is around you eye fuck the shit out of him. he clearly doesn’t want you, but me? i’m right here for whenever you need but you don’t see that” he says

he was right thomas barely showed interest in you. you could flirt with him all week and he still wouldn’t budge. brendan on the other hand was always showing you affection and you’d be the one to brush him off. you always thought that was just how he was because you were really close.

“hey hey hey, that’s not true” thomas interrupts before you say anything. brendan rolls his eyes. “y/n i think you’re fucking gorgeous. the only reason i didn’t do anything was that brendan said you were off limits but not because he liked you. i respect my friends decisions” thomas puts his hands up in surrender

you whip your head at brendan and he had a giant smirk on his face….

-nick smut anon, part two coming later 🤍

i’m sorry i was super busy at work but i just got home and saw this- OH MY GOSHHHH AH I LOVE IT

[duskholland]

Stuck With(out) You - Mob!Tom Smut

tom was having a really nice day until the metropolitan police decided to crash his date.            or, when the law finally catches up to london’s most notorious mobster, tom learns that nothing is fair in love and war.

word count ↠ 15k. warnings ↠ angst with a happy ending, alcohol, a car chase, extensive depictions of prison, violence (very minor injury detail), tattooing, pregnancy, bad language, smut! there are extended nsfw warnings below the cut but this is 18+ so minors please do not interact.  a/n ↠ this is a work of fiction and is not meant to be taken 100% seriously! similarly to every other fic I’ve written about mob!tom, I don’t condone any of the actions shown in this story and all depictions of the mob and prison are entirely fictional. please do not date members of the mafia even if they are tom holland !!!!! + this fic was conceptualised before the release of cherry, and there are no purposeful links to the content of that film! the image from esquire that I’ve used is what led me down this path lmfao...esquire I love/hate you. ++ the biggest thank you ever to the wonderful @uglypastels​ for helping me with the initial brainstorm on this one, and for just generally being so supportive as I’ve struggled with writers block :’) I wouldn’t have ever been able to think this up let alone have the motivation to write this without you, so thank you and ily z <3  +++ there is a pov change halfway through this fic! it is intentional and you should be able to see it pretty easily but I’m just flagging it so you don’t think I lost it halfway through ahahha. enjoy!

nsfw warnings ↠ car sex, soft!dom!tom ft minor sir kink, oral and fingering (fem-receiving), multiple orgasms with brief refs to overstimulation, minor pregnancy kink, unprotected sex ft cumshot. 

✧ *:･ﾟStuck With(out) You･ﾟ:*✧

There’s something wrong with you, and Tom can’t quite put his finger on it.

He wonders if it’s the wine. He’d spent hours debating the type of grape and ideal bitterness, scouring his memory in search of the perfect blend to share with you on your date. Eventually, he’d settled on the same deep red that he’d shared with you the first time he’d visited your flat, back when your love was just a small spark. Three years have passed since then, the nerves of early romance melted away and replaced by knowing and love, but the wine has recurred each time one of you has decided to treat the other, so what better blend to bring along to the picnic that Tom had so meticulously planned?

You haven’t touched your glass, and Tom—for all his confidence and charm—is deeply unsettled by this.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks for what feels like the tenth time, with brows furrowed so tightly his forehead aches. Tom reaches across the gingham blanket to join your fingers together, surprised to feel the clamminess of your skin as you gently squeeze his hand.

You hum. “I’m fine,” you say, voice devoid of any intense emotion. You sigh softly before bringing your eyes to meet Tom’s, and the man feels his heart constrict in his chest. You’re perfect, even with your hair messy from the light spring wind and the nerves that sit across your face. When you squeeze his hand again, and Tom glances down to see the engagement ring on your fourth finger, the ache in his heart sharpens.

He never knew love could be this fulfilling, nor so easy. Breathing is harder than it is to love you.

“Okay,” he replies. “Do you want to go home?”

You’ve been so quiet for the entire date, which is strange because usually, you match his energy effortlessly. Tom has been away for a few weeks doing business in Liverpool, and this date by the river is the first time you’ve been properly alone since he returned. He’d really expected you to enjoy the date—or, on a very basic level, at least look like you want to be here. With your quiet answers, avoidance, and nervous stares, he can’t confidently say that you do.

You shake your head. “No, no.” You fiddle with some of his rings before pulling your hand away from his. As you sit up a little straighter, you turn away from Tom to stare instead at the River Thames.

The river behind you is lit by the mid-afternoon sun and flooded with boats. It’s such a lovely day that Tom almost doesn’t notice the horrible brown tinge to the water. Lining the bank are small groups of people—families, friends, couples, tourists. They all stay clear of the two of you, undoubtedly wary of the security guards lingering near their boss. He rarely goes out so obviously like this, but you’ve always loved London, and he’d wanted to treat you. He’d wanted this to be a nice day.

“You know you can talk to me, don’t you?” he checks, voice catching slightly.

Your eyes snap up to his quickly. “Tom,” you say, voice wrapped endearingly around his name. Moving easily, you slip closer to him, carefully shifting around the food and the glasses until you’re close enough to reach out and touch his cheek. “I love you.”

Tom’s teeth graze his lower lip as he feels you pad your thumb across his jaw. “I know,” he murmurs, dropping his gaze. “I love you too.” He pauses for a few moments, savouring the closeness and the scent of your rosy spritz. He’d missed you so much that it almost hurts to have you so close again. “I know you have something on your mind, darling… Can you tell me what it is? I want to help you.”

“I…” A breathy exhalation follows. You bring your hand away from his cheek and rest it on the red silk material covering his shoulder. He’s in a loose designer shirt, the top two buttons unbuttoned and showing off the silver-linked chain he has hanging from his neck. “Tom, I just…”

“What?”

A small smile twitches at your lips. “Not here,” you seem to decide, voice a little stronger. “I have something I need to show you.”

“At home?”

“Yeah.”

Tom feels the weight rolls from his shoulders. It’s fine—everything is fine. You want to let him in, want to trust him with the cause of your anxieties. You still want him.

“Let’s go, then,” he decides, knowing he’s far too impatient to spend another hour laying by the river. Tom offers you a hand, and you take it. He tugs you away from the picnic setup with ease. He doesn’t need to bother with putting the things away—someone else will do it. Just one of the perks of his job.

“I missed you,” you say, smoothing your thumb over the back of his hand as you walk together towards the car. “It gets lonely without you in the house. Our bed is ridiculously huge without two people in it.”

Tom chuckles. “Good job I’m back now then, eh?”

The noise you release is stacked full of so much relief it makes Tom feel guilty for ever leaving to begin with. As he watches the bright, genuine smile flow across your face when you meet his eyes, he resolves to never leave for business again. Never. Not without you.

“A very good job,” you clarify. When you reach the car together, Tom holds the door open for you, ushering you in dramatically until you’re laughing and making fun of him for fussing. The only way he can stop you from your jovial whines is by leaning across the dashboard and pressing his lips to yours, so really he can’t complain. “This car is stupid, too,” you decide.

“Oh, that’s too fucking far,” Tom murmurs, glancing in the rear mirror as he peels away from the pavement. He’s glad the air between you has lightened. You seem happier now you’ve decided to spill your secrets. He rests his hand on the back of your headrest as he twists in his seat, eyes on the road as he reverses. “This car is a beauty.”

“This car is confusing,” you say, and Tom feels you staring at the flex of his bicep. “I tried driving it when you were gone.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mmm. Couldn’t even get it up the drive.”

“Well, not to be rude, darling, but it’s hardly fair to blame my beautiful car for the fact that you’re an atrocious driver.”

If looks could kill, Tom knows he’d be six feet under.

“Fuck you, Tom,” you seethe, but your voice is charged with laughter. “I take it back. I didn’t miss you at all. Go back to Liverpool, see if I care.”

Tom cackles. “Maybe I will,” he teases, “just to see how long it takes you to start begging for me to come back again.”

You grumble something incoherent at that, then the words between you lull into a comfortable silence. After a few moments, you shift your palm to rest on his thigh, your hand gentle, warm. Your fingertips trace tiny love hearts over his slacks.

“Don’t,” you say eventually, voice quieter. “Stay this time.”

Tom risks a quick glance to you, growing breathless in the depths of your eyes. “Of course,” he says, voice thick. Tom returns his gaze to the road, his chest feeling tight. “I’m never leaving you again.”

“I mean, you can leave sometimes if you want—”

“No. Never.” Tom’s cheeks ache. “I’m never leaving your side.”

“Alright, Tom.” You sigh lightly, feigning exasperation. “I guess there are worse things than being stuck with you.”

“I’m charmed, darling. So relieved you like spending time with your fiancé.”

You shift in your seat at that, and Tom doesn’t have to look at you to know you’re flustered. You’re always shyer around him when he mentions the fact that your futures are intertwined, almost unbelieving that he’d slipped that ring onto your finger. It doesn’t matter how many times Tom tells you that he cherishes you—you never quite make peace with the fact that he wants to chase the moon with you. That doesn’t mean he’ll stop telling you, though. You hang the stars in his sky.

“I love spending time with you, Tom,” you mumble. “And I hope that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t change how you feel about me.”

His eyebrows raise. “Wait— what?” Tom scrunches the tip of his nose up as he squints in your direction. “Y/N, what—” He pauses, concentrating on keeping his voice level. “Angel, nothing you could ever do would change the way I feel about you. Nothing.”

You smile quietly. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add, almost sensing his unease. “I think you’ll like it.”

“Perfect.” Tom sits a little straighter in his seat. “Then there’s nothing to worry about—”

Sirens cut into his words. Tom startles, glancing in the mirror to see a police car with a whirring blue siren perched atop the grimy vehicle.

“Tom,” you say slowly, voice filling with dread. Your tone sends shivers down his spine. “Did you do something?”

Tom bites his lip.

He’s been trying his best to stay above the law recently, but… Liverpool had been messy. Very messy. He hadn’t intended on things going quite as terribly as they had, but one thing had led to another, and he’d had to fuck a few things up. The crime is nothing as intense as he’s been booked for in the past, but he’d had to write a few irregularities into his taxes and business agreements to smooth over the waters. It’s not as bad as murder, but it’s tax fraud nonetheless.

Tom had thought he’d been fine. Apparently not. He’s been a hot target for the Metropolitan Police for years, and they’ve consistently unearthed every tiny discrepancy he’s tried to get away with. He should’ve been more fucking careful.

“Shit,” Tom mutters. As he brings his eyes back to the road in front of him, he realises the police car behind you has been joined by another two, closing in from side streets and boxing him in amongst the traffic. He swallows thickly. “I messed up.”

You curse. “Idiot,” you mutter. You sit forwards in the seat and start to point to a gap in the traffic, right across the square. “Go there,” you say, voice pitching higher. “If you go fast, you’ll make it.”

He could book it. Tom’s run away before, in situations of peril where the alternative had been the law and escaping would give him the chance to alter some books and clear his name. It would be easy to slam his foot on the accelerator and dive down side streets, dodging the thick London traffic.

“Tom!” you say again, voice stressed with desperation. “Tom, go!”

The gap in the traffic is narrowly closing, the window of time Tom has to zoom through and get to safety shrinking before his very eyes. If he was alone, he’d do it without a second thought, but you’re here.

You’re here, and that means he can’t be selfish. Tom couldn’t ever risk you, not with such a treacherous manoeuvre like the one that you’re suggesting, nor with the repercussions you’d face if he books it. You’d either have to come on the run with him, or you’d end up captured and grilled by the Met, and neither of those options is the types of things he’d ever bring willingly upon you. You would never deserve that, and he refuses to make it a possibility.

Tom slows down the car.

“Tom,” you say, shock filling your voice. “What are you doing? They’ll get you.”

He nods. “I want you to listen to me, very carefully,” he says quickly.

“But—”

“—Darling, please. Please.” Tom stops the car abruptly. He calculates he has mere seconds before the officers ditch their vehicles and start storming across the traffic to haul him from his seat. “Don’t say anything to them. They want me, not you.” He turns off the engine and grabs your hands, holding them close as he stares into your eyes. “Call Harrison. Whatever shit they’re bringing me in for won’t hold up for long. They’ve— they’ve done this before. They never win. We have backup plans for this crap.”

“Tom,” you whisper, eyes welling with tears, “but they—”

“I know. I know, baby. I know.” He presses quick kisses to your knuckles, clinging so tightly to your fingers it’s like he’ll drift away without your touch. “I’m sorry. I am so bloody sorry. I love you so much.”

His throat hurts. The sight of the pain in your eyes makes him hate himself for ever bringing you into this faithless way of life. He doesn’t give a fuck that he’s destined for a cell—Tom cares that he’s hurt you.

“I love you too,” you say. You lean closer, undoing your seatbelt and popping his too as you reach up to cup Tom’s cheeks in your shaky hands. “It’ll be okay,” you stress. “I’ll get you out of there, baby.”

You lean in closer to kiss him, and Tom aches. The scent of your perfume is overwhelming, and he feels fragile beneath the hold you have on his face. The kindness in your eyes makes it hurt even more. It’d be easier if you’d let fury consume you and spend these last sacred moments denouncing him instead of loving him, but of course, you’re not like that.

The car door opens, and Tom is hauled from the car the moment his lips touch yours. Before he can process it, he’s being pushed up against his car, stiff arms keeping him pinned in place. He closes his eyes, firming up his face and shoving down his feelings as he forces himself to dry up, become stoic. He won’t show weakness now he’s outside.

Tom hears you exit the vehicle a few moments later, the crash of the door coupled with a few scuffles. He drowns out the words of the officers whilst they reel off a list of fabricated crimes, smugness evident in their voices. Good for fucking them.

When they eventually release him, he’s cuffed and weaponless, his spirit bent in two. The metal of his car had hurt his face, but nothing breaks Tom’s heart more than the sight of you being held back by two officers, tears streaming down your face. You bring your hands into the shaky outline of a heart, and it’s the last thing he sees before he’s pushed into the back of a van.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s day goes from bad to worse.

It’s clear that everyone at the station has been waiting for him to fuck up. He’s met with sly smiles and teasing comments as he’s reacquainted with some of his most despised wardens and guards. He’s held in a temporary cell for almost a day and quizzed on the shreds of ‘evidence’ they’d procured from his house during a raid, and though Tom declines to answer every single question they throw at him, their smugness never fades.

He walks into the trial already knowing he’s going to be locked up, and not even the sight of you beside Harrison and Harry on the benches soothes him.

Five years. He’s charged with five years.

Now, Tom isn’t worried. He knows he won’t actually be held in a cell for that long. He’s already had correspondence with Harrison, who’s assured him that he’s working on it, and there’s really nothing much to worry about. Tom has been in this situation twice before, and on both occasions, he’d been released in less than a month. The connections he’s built from his years heading up the mob are reliant and unwavering, and he knows he won’t have to serve even a fifth of his sentence.

The only difference between the times before and now is you, and Tom can only fucking pray that you don’t despise him for dirtying your name with his crimes. You’d been normal before him—a waitress, aspiring painter, an innocent. Despite your insistence that you love him with all strings attached, his guilt weighs him down. He doesn’t give a fuck about the law and whatever twisted loopholes the jury had bought, but he does care about you and what you think of him. That’s the hardest part.

Two weeks pass achingly slowly.

Prison isn’t that bad for Tom. He’s pretty fucking lucky, all things considered. He has friends here—blokes he’d met around town, most of whom are willing to welcome him in. A few of his old guys are locked behind bars with him, unwavering in their loyalty and more than happy to absorb him as members of their group. Those who don’t know Tom know of him. His reputation as a murderous, cold-hearted killer follows him inside, regardless of its falsity. Tom hasn’t taken a life in three years, but these men don’t need to know that.

“Holland! Get the fuck up. You’re in the gym.”

Tom glances up. He’s lying on top of his bed, one hand propped behind his head, the other holding open a book. He isn’t an avid reader like you, but you’d sent him a copy of your favourite book with scribbled annotations in the margins, and he’s been spending every hour since its arrival clinging to the pages.

He sighs as he puts the book down and stands from the lower bunk. He’s in with a young lad, Ollie, booked on a minor drugs charge. Why they’d paired someone on such a minimal sentence with a member of the mob, Tom will never understand, but the fear in the lad’s eyes every time he looks at him is enough to keep his wavering ego bobbing just above the waterline.

“Step away from the door.”

Tom does as instructed. A moment later, there’s a loud buzzer followed by the swinging of the heavy metal door.

In walks Luther, Tom’s archnemesis. If the inmates fear him, the guards despise him, and to be fair, Tom understands why. He’s a bit of a dick when he’s behind bars. Usually, when he’s free, he operates with a level of poise and charm that comes with his position as leader. He speaks to his men with a firm but kind hand, respects everyone he deems his equal and commands supreme authority without becoming a tyrant. However, when he has his freedom stripped away, and he has to bend to fit the system’s will, his attitude becomes… problematic.

“Holland,” Luther barks. A moment later, he appears in the doorway, coughing loudly, cheeks flushed a ruddy red. He snarls at Tom, his voice like jagged glass. “Come on.”

“You alright, mate?” Tom asks. “You sound fucking terrible.” He looks it, too, with a dripping nose and red-rimmed eyes. He looks ill.

Luther’s features sharpen. “Get over here now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tom swaggers to the door and dodges a little as Luther cuffs him, the man digging the metal into his skin with extra ferocity. They start to march down the long, grey corridor towards the fitness suite, Luther prodding Tom forward with a hand digging into his back.

“How’s your wife?” Tom tries, tired of the echoing footsteps.

Luther sighs. “How’s yours?”

“She’s doing very well, thank you.”

The guard tuts. “Does she like having a criminal for a husband?”

“Does yours like being married to such a wanker— hey!”

Luther pushes him down the corridor with haste. “Quiet, Holland,” he mutters. “I’ve had enough of you.”

“Well, then it’s too bad you’re stuck with me,” Tom replies. “Did you know that if me being here annoys you so much, you could always let me go? That would sort out your problem.”

He barks a laugh. “Yeah? Let London’s most wanted convict escape?”

Tom raises a brow. “London’s most wanted?” he echoes. “Wow.” Pride seeps into his voice. “That’s an accomplishment.”

“Not a positive one. Self-absorbed bastard.”

It’s easy to laugh. Letting the comments bounce off his back is easier than admitting the jibe about you has irked him. Do you like having a criminal for a partner? Even Tom, for all the world has jaded him, knows no sane person would rest well with the knowledge that their significant other has lied, stolen, and killed. It doesn’t lie well with him, and he was born into this.

They reach the gym.

Tom sticks to the same workout regime he has at home. He does his cardio for twenty minutes on the wobbling treadmill, then sits around on the bench press and does curls with a few of the guys. He keeps quiet, his mind loud, only adding a few comments when necessary. His sullenness adds to his image, and he’s busy with thoughts of you. By the time he’s finished, he feels arguably worse than before. The endorphins from his workout are overshadowed by the guilt Tom feels, clawing at his heart, heavy and persistent in its certainty that he’s a lousy partner.

He can handle being a bad guy, but a bad man? A bad brother, bad friend, or bad lover? The opinions of the guards mean nothing to him, and neither does the law, but when it comes to the people he cares about, their opinions mean everything. Tom has let Luther get into his head, and whilst he knows that was the guard’s intention, the seed of doubt has been planted. As he pumps iron, he feels it grow, taking root, blooming taller.

“Holland. Time to go.”

He grunts as he stands. Sweaty and sore, Tom hobbles to the doorway, feeling considerably smaller than he had when he’d left his cell. The cuffs hurt his wrists as his hands are clasped back together, and the walk back feels even longer than before.

“You had a parcel delivered,” Luther says, breaking the silence. “It arrived last week.”

Tom’s eyebrows pull together. “Last week?”

“I thought I should hold it back until you’d settled in,” comes the patronising response. “I didn’t want to overwhelm you with too many new experiences, Thomas. Not that being in here is anything out of the ordinary for you, though.”

He feels his jaw twitch. He flexes his hand, knuckles burning for movement. Not yet, not yet. He has to wait, has to play the long game.

“You’re a dick,” Tom decides. He doesn’t care that he gets thrown roughly into the cell. He trips over the floor and barely manages to scrape himself to his feet, but he throws out a smirking “fuck you,” before the door slams shut. He’d follow it up with more snide remarks, but he becomes distracted by the sight of the parcel sitting on his bed.

It’s neat, despite the obvious intrusion into its contents by the guards. He flops onto his lower bunk, glad his cellmate is absent as it allows him to drop the ruse. Lips sagging into a frown, Tom rips open the package.

He releases a fragile sound as the contents pour across his duvet. Polaroids fall across the sheets, glistening slightly, neat and pristine. A lump comes to the back of his throat as he shuffles through them, finding images of you, Harry, Sam, Tess… The list carries on. For every person he can think of, there’s an image captured perfectly in time. He even appears in a few of them, with his hand around Haz’s shoulder or his lips pressed to your temple.

He finds a note attached at the bottom.

Tom, I thought you’d want some reminders of home while you’re away. We’re all looking forward until the day you can come home to us. Love you forever, Y/N <3

As Tom traces the edge of his nail along the outline of your face, his eyes well with hot tears. You always know what he needs, even when he doesn’t. You know him, inside out, and you’re continuing to support him, despite it all. He is indebted to you, and he knows already that as soon as he’s let out, he’ll spend every second of his life trying to repay that.

The seed of doubt burns away.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Two weeks later, Tom finally gets to see you again.

The prison visiting room is fucking grim. Toned in sludgy shades of grey and brown, it’s about as ugly as it could be. There are window slits pressed high into the walls, but the primary source of light is from the musky bulbs set above each table. The chairs are uncomfortable, and the decor lacks inspiration. Tom often wonders if the room was designed to be as revolting as possible.

Despite this, as Tom shuffles into the room that smells suspiciously of plasticine, he couldn’t be happier. It doesn’t matter that his wrists ache from the cuffs, nor that the garish shade of orange clashes horrendously against his skin: you’re here, and that makes everything better.

You’re sitting at the table in the corner of the room, drumming your fingers pensively over the surface. His eyes catch on the glinting ring wrapped around your fourth finger, and the sense of longing that had settled in the hollowness of his chest is quickly burnt away. Sensing his movements, you glance up, and when your eyes meet with his, Tom feels his heart come home.

You raise a hand in greeting, smiling shyly, and he tries to look as non-threatening as possible. He knows the new buzzcut and the stupid get-up probably don’t help, but you don’t look at him like he’s any different.

As he draws nearer, Tom finds himself blinking a few times, questioning how long you’ve been separated. The version of you he has holed up in his memories pales in comparison to the woman that he sees before him now, but he can’t quite pinpoint why. You seem fuller somehow—vibrant, glowing, alive, your face doused in a heavenly glow and your skin bright with health. Your figure has changed slightly, and Tom can’t stop himself from running his eyes all over you, trying to memorise every tiny detail his memory had blurred away. You look so beautiful, every single part of your form enhanced and bright, and your chest—

Fuck, it’s been a long time.

“Y/N,” he exhales the moment he’s been pushed into his seat. His guard unclasps his cuffs, and Tom immediately reaches out across the table, almost moaning from relief when you wrap your fingers around his. Your skin is so warm.

“Tom,” you whisper. Emotion seeps into your voice, and he feels his chest crack as tears pool in your eyes. “Are you okay? I— I missed you.”

He hums, biting his lip. “I’m fine, baby. I’m okay. Are you?”

You nod quickly. “I’m okay too,” you say. “Things are strange without you, but we’re working around the clock to get you out of here.” You drop your voice slightly. “I think we’re near a breakthrough.”

Tom’s teeth brush his lower lip. “Good, good,” he says. “How’s Tess? And Harry, and the others? Are they looking out for you?”

“Yeah,” you say. You squeeze Tom’s hands tightly. “They’re all okay. Mainly just worried about you.”

He shrugs, trying to lessen the furrow in your brow. “‘M all good, darling,” he promises. “Don’t worry about me.”

Your eyes skate across his face. “I like your hair,” you say gently. For a moment, Tom thinks you’re going to try and reach out to touch the buzzed fuzz, but you seem to remember that anything beyond handholding is prohibited. You have to settle for a slightly suggestive smile. “It looks good on you.”

“Thanks, lovie.”

Your smile is sad but it’s still hopeful. Whatever emotions you’re feeling, it’s clear that you’re trying to smooth them away and keep them to yourself. “There’s something I wanted to tell you,” you say, easing into the words with difficulty. Tom watches as you look away, doubt casting across your face.

“What is it?” Vaguely, Tom remembers how skittish you’d been the day he’d been taken away, the memory distorted from the noise of everything else that had happened. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You bite your lower lip. “Uh, just first… how are you holding up in here? Like, actually. Don’t bullshit me and play the tough guy.” Your eyes are wide and persistent. “How are you actually doing?”

Tom blinks a few times. “Fine,” he shoots immediately. He clenches your fingers tightly in his, clinging on for a moment until he exhales. “I wish I could be here for you properly, though. It worries me that I don’t know what’s happening on the outside…” He hates being left out in the dark, but it isn’t your fault. It’s his. “I wish I could be a better boyfriend to you.”

“Fiancé,” you correct, the word soft like it’d left your mouth without thought. “You’re already a good boyfriend, Tom. I knew what I was signing up for. I wanted this back then, and I still do now.”

“Still,” he grumbles. He tries to even out the heaviness of the conversation with a smile. “I think about you all the time, baby. And the others too, but… mostly you. I just hate that I’m missing out on our life together.” He has to stop for a moment as he recollects his thoughts. “I’m sorry that I did this to us, and I’m sorry I let you down.”

You crack a wry smile. “You can’t change the past, Tom. You can only affect the future.” You pause, your expression hardening. “I need to know that you’ll go slower when you get out. I know this is your life, but some things need to change. We— I need you to stay out of trouble. Do you understand?”

He nods his head immediately. “Of course, of course. I don’t ever want to get arrested again, darling.”

You drop your voice. “I’m not saying you need to quit everything, just… get better safeguards and be smarter. I love who you are, Tom, but this…” You break off to gesture around, pointing vaguely at his cuffs, the jumpsuit, and the guards. “This isn’t good for you or for me. And I love you, but I won’t stay if you don’t try.”

It’s hard to hear, but he knows it’s what he deserves to hear. He knows you deserve to stand your ground.

“I know,” Tom says gently. “I’ll get clean when I’m out, Y/N. I promise. I’ll be a good man by you.”

You squeeze his fingers tighter. “You already are,” you promise, “and I love you so much, even when you’re being an idiot.”

He laughs breathlessly. “Thank you, darling.” Tom tilts his head to the side. “What was it you wanted to say?”

Conflict briefly colours your face, manifesting itself in the arch of your eyebrow and the biting of your lower lip. You inhale sharply, only to exhale again a moment later.

“I’ll tell you when you’re out,” you say softly.

Tom scowls. There’s no anger there, just confusion. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

You shake your head. “I… Pretend I never said anything,” you say. You follow it up with a quick, “if I thought you needed to know, I’d tell you.”

He doesn’t want to push it, so Tom lets the topic slip away. You sit together silently for a few minutes. It’s hard to talk, difficult to express how much he misses you, how much he’s sorry. He knows that you understand—you always do, and you have similar tears wobbling across your eyes. Talking can come afterwards when he’s out and he’s free. All he needs now is the feeling of your hand back in his.

The visit is over far too soon.

Leaving you is difficult. Tom isn’t allowed to hug you or go any nearer than the linked hands on the table, but you tug at his fingers until he feels the imprint of your engagement ring rubbing against his skin. He even manages to kiss your knuckles a few times before he’s pulled up from the table and cuffed again.

“Be on your best behaviour,” you say, soft with your parting words. “The lawyer says the better you are, the easier it’ll be to get you out early.”

Tom has a bit of his spark back. Even as he’s pulled back, he manages a devious smirk. “When am I ever not on my best behaviour, darling?”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few days later, Tom snaps.

To be fair, it isn’t really his fault. He’s pushed to the very verge of insanity, prodded at and provoked beyond the point of return.

It happens when he’s in the barber, huddled in the back corner of the room as he gets a new tattoo. Tom is used to the pain of the burning needles as he already has a few pieces on his arms and his hands, so he’s able to take the fresh marks to his knuckles as the ink stains black against his skin. However, he’s a bit on edge from the sharp buzzing, which is perhaps why he responds so negatively to the taunting he starts to receive. It comes from Toni and the rest of his snivelling gang. They’re all members of the East London mob, ruled over by Tom’s nemesis Gordy. Most of the time, they stick to their side and Tom sticks to his, but they’ve caught him in a vulnerable position, and Toni never seems to know how to pick his timing.

It’s basic teasing, instilled with a brutal hard edge that would phase him if Tom cared enough about their opinions of him. It doesn’t hurt him when people attack his character or his honour—Tom knows the truth about his life, and he couldn’t give two shits about an outsider’s opinion of him. However, he finds it a lot harder to grin and bear it when the man changes angle.

“Word is, a couple of our guys saw your missus out with Haz the other day,” Toni taunts. “He said they were getting real close if you know what I mean.”

Tom’s jaw flexes. The action is minute, but it doesn’t go undetected. Toni smirks.

“Eh, you don’t like that, do you?” The man steps a little closer and Tom tries to ignore him by looking down at the needle pressing into his fingers. “Don’t like the idea of your best friend hanging around your wife. Can you even trust them?” He breaks off, laughing coolly. “They think you’re so stupid, did you know that? You’ll get out of here, and they’ll have cut you out of everything—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tom murmurs. He flexes his right hand, shaking out his knuckles. With every passing day, he’s felt tetchier. He can feel his anger burning, churning deep within his stomach, growing brighter, harder. He knows he shouldn’t lean into it, but… He wants to. He craves that rush of the fight, selfishly so.

“But she’s not your wife, is she? You aren’t actually married. Have you ever thought that maybe she’s just using you? Maybe they all are? Look at you, Tom.” Toni breaks off to throw a disdainful hand in Tom’s direction. “You are so weak in here… How are any of your guys going to respect you when their leader can’t even stay out the slammer?”

The guy tattooing Tom’s hand finally pulls away, glancing up at him with knowing in his eyes. “You’re done,” he says. “Don’t do anything with that hand, though.”

“Thanks, man.”

Tom stands up, Toni mirroring him. The man looms in front of him, 6’2 and stocky. He’s larger than Tom in every respect, but he’ll never be the bigger man.

“Get out of my way,” Tom sneers.

“Make me, twat.” Toni smirks. “Or are you too much of a pussy to follow through on that as well?”

Tom sees red. Acting on the edge of adrenaline, he pounces, rushing the man and jumping with so much unexpected force that the larger man goes tumbling to the floor. Tom hears the shouts of the guards, but they pale in comparison to his need to straddle the man’s chest and make him pay. With each meeting of his fist with Toni’s face, Tom feels better. He’s never been an excessively violent person, but old habits die hard, and it’s so, so, so fucking easy to pummel the guy who dared breath an uncomplimentary word in his family’s direction. Tom would put the whole city six feet under if they so much as breathed wrong around his loved ones, so really, Toni had it coming.

The prison guards don’t agree.

He ends up in solitary, and when he’s put back into the normal population, Tom is given restrictions. He isn’t allowed visitors for a fortnight, and his calls are reduced to once a week. All other privileges he’d had are taken away again, and he’s relegated to the very bottom of the pecking order.

It’s still worth it.

When he’s finally allowed visitors again, Tom is surprised to learn that his next meeting isn’t with you or his lawyer. Things only make sense when he shuffles into the meeting room and sees his right-hand man settled in the corner, and if Tom had found the room drab before, it appears even more depressing with the addition of the blond man sitting in it. Harrison sucks the life from the room, any hints of happiness at being reunited with his friend overshadowed by the pinched expression on his face.

The guards don’t let Tom take off his cuffs. He has to sidle into the chair, falling into the heavy silence as he places his hands on the table. Metal links click, and Harrison just stares. He stares, and stares, and stares, his blue eyes almost black.

“So,” Tom eventually says. “Hello.”

Harrison’s jaw twitches. He brings his hands to rest on the top of the table, flexing them as he takes a moment to find the right words. “Tom,” he says, speaking very slowly. “You are a twat.”

He blinks. “Wow,” Tom mutters, chuckling slightly. “Okay. Good to see you too, mate.”

“Do you…” Harrison breaks off, groaning. His forehead develops angry ripples. “Do you understand how detrimental this has been to your case?”

Tom bites his lip, shaking his head slightly.

“You’ve been pushed to the bottom of the pile,” Harrison says, voice controlled but simmering with unspoken anger. “We were about to get your appeal passed for early release.” He sits back, crossing his arms as he shakes his head. “There’s been a penalty applied due to your stint in solitary. Your case won’t be assessed until it’s lifted.”

Tom feels his stomach drop. “Shit,” he mutters. “That’s not ideal.”

“No. No, it’s not.” Harrison sits forward, leaning on his hands. “You are a bloody idiot. Stop acting like a child… Why… Why did you even attack him? You must have known this would happen. Are you stupid?”

He doesn’t like the patronisation in his tone. Tom’s already beat himself up enough about this in solitary. He doesn’t need Harrison questioning his judgements, doesn’t appreciate his friend breathing down his neck so obviously.

“He deserved it,” Tom says firmly. “I would do it again.”

“You can’t. You absolutely cannot.”

“I think you’ll find that I can, Harrison.” There’s a stupid smirk on his lips now. Tom’s missed being a little shit to his friends. He knows it’s not the time, but he’s vibrating. The callous concoction of shame, anger and isolation make him volatile and abrasive. “I’m pretty sure I can do whatever the fuck I want, actually.”

The expression that mars Harrison’s face looks very out of place against his demeanour. The man is in a long black trench coat with a tight grey turtleneck layered beneath it. He has a few pendants hanging from his neck, the gold metal bringing out the warm tones in his curls, mussed in a way that screams of old charm and perfect romance. Harrison’s illusion of control falters only under the pressure of the anger that manifests itself so clearly on his face.

“Tom.” Harrison bangs his fist on the table. The ring wrapped around his pinky clangs against the wood. “You can’t keep this up. If you do, the case gets pushed further, and that is unacceptable.”

Tom scowls. “Well, Haz, last time I checked, I was the one who has to deal with the consequences of my actions. Not you.” He can’t stand the expression of condescension hanging over Harrison’s face. “If I want to throw a few punches, I bloody well will. You have no idea what it’s like in here. No idea at all.”

Harrison’s angered expression fades a little, but only for a moment. When Tom hardens the curve of his eyebrow, Harrison devolves into irritation again, almost snarling as he narrows his eyes. “Your actions affect everyone in your life,” he snaps. “Stop pretending you’re the only one paying for the things that you’ve done.”

“I’m the one with the cuffs, Harrison. I’d say I’m paying considerably more than anyone else.”

He shakes his head. “Yeah? Tell that to the men who had their property searched and their possessions seized. Tell that to your family, who continue to be pulled in for questioning. Tell that to Y/N, who—” he breaks off awfully quickly, cheeks flushing slightly. “Nevermind.”

Tom’s blood goes cold. “Y/N?” he repeats sharply. “What about Y/N?”

“Nothing.”

He sits up straighter. “What about Y/N, Harrison?”

“Nothing.”

Tom is angry now. “Tell me right now or god help me, I will find a way to kill you.”

Harrison rolls his eyes, then covers the movement with a sigh. “I can’t. It isn’t my place.” He seems regretful as he jumps in to add, “she’s fine. She just needs you. We all do.”

The guilt returns. It falls over Tom like a wet blanket, extinguishing his frustration and leaving him cold. “Does she… Does she hate me?” He’s looking down at his cuffs.

“What— no. No, Tom.” Harrison looks guilty for the first time, but at least he isn’t confirming Tom’s deepest insecurities. “Nothing like that at all. Just… Listen to me, alright? You need to behave. I know it’s hard in here, I know that, and I understand it must be frustrating. You just… You can’t let that rule you, Tom. You have to look at the bigger picture. You need to come home, and the sooner the better.”

It’s easier said than done, but he knows Harrison is earnest with it.

“Fine,” Tom grumbles. “I’ll behave.”

Harrison nods. “Thanks, mate,” he mutters. “We all miss you, myself included.” He glances up at him, eyes finally back to the cool blue tones Tom grew up beside. “It isn’t the same without you around.”

Tom manages a tight smile. “I miss you too.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

IT’S BEEN THREE MONTHS since Tom was taken away, and you are miserable.

Every day has been the same. You wake up, nauseous and alone, always on Tom’s side of the bed despite forcing yourself to fall asleep on your own. The mornings are a blur of paperwork and phone calls that follow you into the afternoon. You work around the clock, Harrison, Harry and Sam at your side as you go over Tom’s case, again and again, only stopping when night falls, and one of you throws in the towel.

You had been so close to springing him until he’d gone and got himself demoted to solitary, and there’s not a morning that you don’t think about that. You’d submitted the appeal, stacked full of so much evidence that there was no way the judge would deny him freedom, only for Tom to get into a fistfight the day before the hearing. Just like that, the floor had vanished from beneath your feet.

You’d taken it badly, the others too. Losing Tom to the judge’s gavel had been hard enough, but for his escape to be taken away by his own actions hurt a thousand times worse. You know it’s worse for him, being alone in a cell, but that doesn’t stop the bitterness seeping into your mouth every time you think about the lost chance. Harry and Sam had been incensed, their anger fuelled by the void of a missing brother, and you know Harrison’s frustration comes from similar veins.

Even now that Tom’s served his time in solitary, the frustration lingers on, manifesting itself in the way none of you could decide who should go and visit him first. Under normal conditions, you would’ve been there in a heartbeat, but… Things have been complicated, even without recent events, more so than they’d been when you’d visited two months ago. When Harrison had bitten the bullet and volunteered himself, all of you had been more than happy to let him go.

He’d left this morning, and the house has been quiet ever since.

You’re sitting up in one of the spare rooms as you wait for Harrison to return, your back aching and your mind spinning. You twirl the rings on your fingers as you think, taking turns alternating between your engagement ring and the silver signet rings you’d taken from Tom’s dresser. Keeping him close makes everything easier. You’d take any reminder of him you could get, be that his rings, his shirts, his cologne, or…

The baby.

You shift a hand down to sit on the swell of your belly. Tears prick your eyes as you let them close, a frustrated sigh tumbling past your lips.

You’re four months pregnant, and that throws a spanner in the works.

Sure, you would’ve tried equally as hard to get Tom released under normal conditions, but the biological countdown that has now been sprinkled into the mix has only given everything an air of desperation. Even if it isn’t you vocalising what everyone else is thinking, the fervour to get Tom out before it’s too late is there. You can see it in the way Harrison never lets you go anywhere unaccompanied, and Harry and Sam have been working nonstop to get their brother’s freedom. Everyone around you is aware of how vital Tom’s release is, even when the man himself remains oblivious.

Exhaling gently, you shift around on the cosy armchair. The nursery smells of fading paint, and as you move around, you glance at the messy borders of the walls. The sex of your baby is still a mystery to you, but a few days ago, the twins had freshened up the room with a shade of light green whilst you and Harrison were in court. Neither of them is particularly artistically inclined, but they’d done a pretty decent job, all things considered.

Tom’s family have all been good to you—very kind. You haven’t felt alone, even with half your heart locked away in the outskirts of London. It just hasn’t been the idyllic pregnancy you’d dreamt about with your fiancé.

Guilt falls across you as you look down at the rising swell of your belly.

It’s been hard trying to decide whether or not to tell Tom what you’d tried to come clean about three months ago, down by the Thames. You’d wanted to tell him when you’d gone to visit him, but you couldn’t find the heart to come clean and admit that he’s missing out on the one thing he’s waited for his entire life. Telling him would hurt him immensely, and he’s already hurting being away from you. You don’t want to tell him until he can be part of it, and with that uncertainty present, you’ve kept your lips sealed.

Visiting him today in place of Harrison is all you really wanted to do, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You’re vulnerable and explosive, and you want to come clean to Tom when the situation is better. There would be nothing worse than storming into that dingy meeting room, flaunting your obvious pregnancy but being too distracted by your anger at your fiancé to explain everything else. You won’t hurt him like that by taunting him with the one thing he wants but can’t have. You refuse to.

All you can do is hope that he forgives you for holding the information back, pray that he understands your motivations, and, above all, hold onto the hope that he’s there when your child comes into the world.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

Blinking yourself from your reverie, you look up through the open door.

“In here, Sam.”

A moment later, Tom’s younger brother appears in the doorway. The man looks as exhausted as you feel, deep shadows hanging beneath his hazel eyes. When he sees you, his mouth pulls into a small smile and he lifts his hand in greeting, and you can tell that he’s trying. You try to match him by sitting up a little straighter and smiling back.

“Hey,” he says. “I was just… bored, I guess. Thought I’d come and check on you.” Doubt briefly flickers across his face. “Is that okay? Are you busy?”

“I’m bored too,” you admit. You stand from the armchair and groan as you stretch your arms, your stiff back aching. “Do you want to do something?”

Sam grins. “Fuck yeah,” he says. “Can we try the mural?”

Wincing, you manage a smile. “Okay… But if it looks terrible, I will paint over it.”

“As if. I’m the artistic one here, Y/N. Just be glad Harry’s still away.”

“Did someone mention me?” Harry’s voice rings through the air, startling you. With a hand clutching your heart, you look to your side in time to see Sam’s twin taking his place at your side. Where Sam is in a shirt and tie, Harry is clad in a pair of deep denim dungarees. He offers you a rusty smile. “We’re just filling in these lines, yeah?”

Sam’s the one to nod. He gestures at the wall and you notice the faint outlines, scratched in pencil. “Be precise,” he informs, “it took me bloody ages sketching it.”

Harry rolls his eyes, shooting you a silent smirk. “Yes, sir,” he mutters. “Anything you want, sir.”

“Fuck off.”

Harry pulls a face. “Well,” he says, looking at you pointedly, “I hope you’re keeping a record of how many times Sam is swearing around the baby, Y/N.”

Brows furrowing, you pick up a paintbrush. “Why would I be doing that?”

The ginger grins. “Just betters my case for being the better uncle,” he says.

“Oh, what? Don’t you mean the boring uncle?” Sam chides, bristling beside you.

Harry laughs. “I will be the favourite uncle. I don’t care what you say, Sammy. Both of us know it.”

Rolling your eyes at the argument you’ve heard a thousand times before, you give them both a nudge. “Shh,” you plead. “Paint, don’t fight.”

Sam shoots you a soft smile. “Yes, ma’am.”

With a smile lingering on your lips, you watch as Harry puts on one of his playlists, then relax as the three of you get to work. None of you say anything, but the air is full enough—tickled to life with Sam’s quiet whistling and the sound of paintbrushes thick against the wall. You concentrate on the intricate details of the mural, like the outlines of the clouds and the spirals of the grass, and marvel at how wonderful it is to be so content in silence. It’s indicative of how tight your bond has grown, you think.

No longer despising solitude, you’ve found a comfortable middle ground around the men. You and Tom’s inner circle have learned to work together well, stringing together complex case files as you’ve organised accounts. Nothing you’ve been doing recently is legal, but you would’ve left a long time ago if you genuinely cared about the law. You can stomach a few fixed accounts if it means Tom gets to walk free—you can stomach a whole lot more than that, actually, for Tom. You’d set the whole world on fire just to see him smile.

Like the splotchy mural covering the walls, your team has got the job done. Your case for the court is watertight, if a little messy, but you know it’ll be enough to spring Tom. It has to be. You need him, and your child needs him. Everyone in the house needs him.

“Guys? Where are you?” Harrison’s voice joins the mix just as you’re stretching up to flick a few rays of gold into the sun. Harry is at your feet, crouching on the balls of his feet as he tries to paint a few red flowers to the sprigs of grass.

“Nursery,” Harry calls out.

A few moments later, Harrison joins you. You fail to meet his eyes as the focused man sweeps into the room, billowing coat swirling around his feet. His expression is terse as he jerks off his jacket and grabs a paintbrush, dipping the tip in a bit of sky blue paint before standing at the end. You don’t rush him. He’s vibrating with something, his face flushed and his eyes dark, so you give him space.

A few minutes pass, illustrated by Harry’s playlist and the colours of the rainbow. Just when you’re beginning to worry, Harrison speaks.

“Tom is an idiot,” he states, drawing a laugh from one of the twins.

You bite your lip. “Did you explain?” you ask.

Harrison nods. He glances at you, and you note the fleck of purple paint pressed into the pale arc of his cheek. “He said he wouldn’t do it again,” he tells you. “He was angry, though. I think he’s having a bad time.”

Harry hums. “It’s hard in there,” he mumbles. “Was he still himself?”

The blond nods. “Yeah,” he says. “As snarky as ever.”

Sam smirks. “That’s Tom, alright.”

“Good news, though,” Harrison adds. “I went to the courthouse on my way back.”

“Oh?” You look away from your cloud, your heart skipping a beat. “And?”

“And,” Harrison continues, a semblance of a smile twitching across his lips, “I submitted the appeal again. They said they’d probably process it next week. So, if things go according to plan this time, he might be out by next Friday.”

You almost drop your paintbrush. Eyes widening, you turn to face him properly. “Wait, really?”

Harrison’s expression softens. “Yeah.” He puts his paintbrush down, tugging yours from your fingers as if he can tell you’re close to dropping it. “He’s almost out, Y/N.”

Relief spills across you, uncontrollable and overwhelming. Closing your eyes before those easy tears can fall down your cheeks, you step closer and push your way into Harrison’s embrace. He’s ready and waiting for the action, eager to comfort his friend.

“Thank you,” you whisper. Harrison’s chest is warm, and though his hugs aren’t as good as Tom’s, you’ve come to rely on them. You’ve come to rely on all of them. “That’s amazing news.”

“Mhmm.” He squeezes you. “This nightmare is almost over.”

“Thanks, man,” Harry speaks up. You pull away from Harrison’s hold when you hear the quivering tones in his voice, quickly glancing to the man to find him glassy-eyed and flushed. Biting your lip, you extend a hand towards him.

A group hug unfolds, as it’s had the tendency to do since Tom was taken away. The first time had been stoic and cool, with frozen elbows and embarrassed shuffling, but slowly, each one of them has loosened. They’re tough men, burdened and hard, but love ties them to you, and at your request, you know they’d do anything for you. You also know that they all enjoy the physical comfort more than they’d ever let on.

It’s been hard without Tom, and you’d do anything to have him back, but if there’s anything his absence has taught you, it’s that his brothers have become your brothers as his best friend has become your own, and you’ve never really been alone.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tom’s release day comes quickly, hidden behind the retrial and the quick-paced days in court. It’s busy at the trial, and spaces are limited, so Harry and Sam attend in place of you and Harrison. You get them to take in a few letters for Tom and pass on your condolences for your absence, but you don’t allow yourself to get too hung up on it. When Tom’s release is announced, the weight that rolls from your shoulders is immediate.

As you wait outside the prison, you try to find solace in the rays of the mid-afternoon sun. It’s quiet in the car park, allowing you to ruminate in peace, and though you’re comfortable resting against the bonnet of Tom’s car, your thoughts are far from restful.

Anxiety weighs heavily in your chest, mixing with your excitement and creating a volatile concoction. You find yourself pacing, biting back your nerves as you try to reason with yourself. Draped around your shoulders is a long coat that obscures your bump, chosen as you’ve decided you don’t want to overwhelm Tom with too many things at once. You hope it does the job. The coat twitches in the wind as you walk, noisy and obnoxious.

Things around you are still until there’s a sudden, loud buzzing noise from the prison compound. You jerk your head around to see two men leaving the main building, small in the distance but gradually growing larger. They’re still enclosed in the fenced courtyard, but they’re on their way to the exit, and every rational thought you have flies from your mind as you see him. Tom. Your Tom.

He’s in the clothes he’d been arrested in—red shirt, black slacks, shiny shoes. Looped around his hands is his Rolex and his rings. Tom seems almost identical to how he’d been on that cursed day, just his head is buzzed and he looks a little smaller. He’s carrying himself with confidence, though, and when he looks fervently around the car park and spots you, his entire face swells with happiness. The sight of that large, lovely smile hanging from his lips brings immediate warmth to your eyes.

Every breath is easier now you have him in your sights. Overwhelming love gluts your insides, warm and emotive, choking you up. It takes everything in you to stay still as you wait for Tom to finish talking with his guard, a tall man you recognise from all of his stories, Luther. Tom’s smirking in a way that’s obviously infuriating, and the guard doesn’t hesitate to give him a light punch as your boyfriend saunters out of prison, leaving the compound with a swagger to his stride and a smile the size of Saturn.

The sight of Tom jogging towards you breaks you from your reverie, and you push yourself away from the car to meet him somewhere in the middle. Nothing matters until you’re colliding with his front, finding warmth in his arms, feeling his entire body shake as his tears fall into your hair. Nothing matters unless it’s him.

“I missed you so much,” you whisper. Your grip on the back of Tom’s shirt is hard, a violent sprawling across your knuckles, but you won’t let go. You’re giddy with love. “Fuck, Tom, I missed you so, so much.”

You pull away from his chest and look into his eyes, your lower lip wobbling as you note the fresh tears on his face. You use your thumbs to brush beneath his cheeks, flicking away the tears as you clean up his handsomeness.

“I missed you so much more,” he promises. Tom brings a hand to rest on the back of your head, breath hitching as he meets your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

He kisses you, and it’s so intense you end up pressed against the side of the car. Tom moans with relief as he strokes his fingers over the side of your face, delicately reacquainting his lips with yours as they meet again and again. You keep your hands gliding over his back, his arms, his shoulders, letting your tongues come together as tears flow down your cheeks. The kiss is everything and nothing, familiar and new. The kiss says I missed you. It says I thought about you every day. It says I would wait a thousand dawns if it meant I got to wake up beside you again, but thank fucking god you’re here right now because I missed you more than I ever thought was possible.

“Baby,” Tom murmurs. He pulls away but keeps your foreheads pressed together, the cool tip of his nose brushing yours. “You’re so perfect. I missed you so much that it hurt me.”

He tries to move closer, but you become aware of the pressure to your belly, so bring a gentle hand to push his shoulder away. Hurt immediately floods to his eyes, his expression twitching as Tom takes a few steps back.

“Tom,” you say, voice soft. “I need to tell you something.”

Tom’s jaw twitches. “What is it?” he whispers.

“A good thing,” you clarify. You reach up to wipe the residue of your tears away, then bring your hands down to the tie of your jacket. Biting your lip, you take a steadying breath. “I hope you aren’t angry that I didn’t tell you sooner,” you preface, “but I did it for you.”

Tom nods intensely. “Okay,” he says. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s fine. I’m… I’m here, okay? For anything. It’s me and you. Just… me and you forever.”

A smile flickers across your face. “Me and you, and…” You gently open the front of your coat, then reach out for Tom’s hands. Guiding them slowly, you bring the warmth of his palms to rest on the rise of your bump.

“Wait…” Tom shifts his hands around your belly before staring up at you, slack-jawed. He doesn’t try to hide the obvious tears in his eyes. “You’re…?”

Nodding your head is easier than trying to speak.

“Oh god.” Tom sniffles. “What?” He immediately drops to his knees in front of you, his fancy dress trousers getting dirty in the dust. “How— how far along?”

“Almost five months,” you whisper. “I found out right before you got back from Liverpool. I was going to tell you when we went on that date, but…”

“But I fucked up.” Tom sounds wrecked, his aching eyes fixed on the curve of your belly. “I fucked everything up. I… I left you alone for this entire time, and you had to do this all without me.” He rests his forehead against your bump, very, very gently, and you see him close his eyes. “I am a terrible partner.”

Rolling your fingers over the scruff of his hair, you guide him up to look at you. It’s second nature as you roll a thumb over his cheekbone, trying to instil the action with love and reassurance.

“I’m not angry,” you tell him. “You didn’t know, and you didn’t get arrested on purpose. If anything, you should be angry at me for keeping this a secret.” Your teeth catch your lower lip. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I thought telling you would only make things worse. I’m sorry.”

Tom shakes his head. “No, no. Don’t apologise.” He rests a hand on your leg, the other still on the curve of your front. “I’m sorry.” He drops his voice and looks at the bump. “And I’m sorry to you too, little one.” He nudges his mouth forward and deposits a soft kiss to your stomach. “I love you too.”

Digging one of your hands into your coat pocket, you pull out a photo. “Here,” you urge, handing it to your boyfriend. Tom takes it after a moment, his eyes slow to move away from your front.

He releases a noise somewhere between an exclamation and a choke, nimble fingers gripping the image from your ultrasound. His cheeks flush a brilliant rose.

“When was this?” he whispers.

“At three months,” you reply. You continue to run your hand over the top of his head, trying to soothe him as he absorbs so much information at once. “I went with my mum and Haz.”

“Haz?”

You nod. “Harry and Sam lost a bet.”

Tom hums. He looks between the photo and your bump, then nudges forward to kiss the rise again. His lips are so warm you can feel them through the material of your dress. “Have they been looking after you well enough?”

A light laugh slips past your lips. “Yeah,” you promise. “They helped so much, Tom. It was hard at first… Really hard. Especially when we thought you’d be in there for five years, but… Things worked out.” You have to pause to gather your thoughts. “We converted one of the rooms into a nursery. There’s still stuff left to do, and we can do that together, of course, but… They were all really helpful.”

“Good.” Tom looks up at you, still kneeling, and your hand slips down to cup his face. “I’m sorry,” he adds. “I wish I could’ve been here for all of this.”

Shrugging gently, you squeeze his face. “You can be here for the rest of it,” you promise. “And, I guess… If we have another one, you’ll be there for all of that, right?”

“Of course, darling.” You smile as Tom tilts his lips to knock against the side of your palm.

“So it’s okay.”

“Are you sure?”

Chuckling softly, you nod. “Yes,” you promise. “I love you, and I’m so happy this has happened for us, even if the timing was difficult.” Feeling yourself well up, you exhale slowly. “We’re going to be parents, Tom. Isn’t that crazy?”

“It’s brilliant.” Tom’s eyes sparkle. “I’m going to be a father.” He blinks. “What the fuck.”

Laughing, you move your hands to the crown of his head. “Yeah, it’ll take a while to get used to that.”

“I’ll get there,” he states. Tom returns his attention to the bump. “Hey, little one,” he coos, voice all silk and amber tones, “it’s going to be the biggest honour of my life being your dad.”

Tom spends a while at your feet, speaking softly to you and your bump, and you keep your hand resting on the back of his head. He’s weary when he finally climbs to his feet but regains some of that spark when you step forward to kiss him. You don’t mean to make it as heated as you do, but it hasn’t only been your heart that’s missed Tom. You’ve craved him, constantly, during every single lonely night, and now that he’s here, you’re willing to take everything you can get.

“I love you,” you say, hushed against his mouth.

Tom’s teeth brush over your lower lip, and you moan when he tugs. There’s a fervour to it, hot lust burning through sensitive emotions. He releases your lip and pulls back to stare at you, his eyes rippling darker.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. He brings his hands to your waist, pulling you closer. “I love everything about you.”

Your mouths come back together, and it’s messier than before, your lips wettening as your kisses become wilder. Tongues dance and teeth clash as your body temperature starts to rise. Now you’ve moved through the emotional reunion, you’re left with an underlying pulse—a heat throbbing persistently between your legs. The fire builds as you hear Tom’s grunts and feel the desperation in his hands when they grab at your sides and jerk you closer, his mouth devouring yours until your lips are puffy and tender. You’re greedy, chasing more, desiring everything you’ve missed out on in the months you’ve been apart from your lover.

“Darling,” Tom murmurs, breaking the kiss to whisper hotly against your lips, “I missed you, but if you keep this up, we’re not going to get home.”

Desire takes hold of you. “Who said I wanted to go home?” You push in closer, shifting slightly until you’re able to feel the hardness of his crotch pressing up against your thigh. The familiarity of it all makes you inhale sharply. You drop your tone, trying to seem coy as you speak, “I don’t think you understand how badly I needed you whilst you were away, Tom. I missed you.”

The tips of his teeth glint as he arches his brows. “Well…” Tom mumbles. “I owe you about four months of lost opportunities.” He swallows, briefly breaking from the lust-filled headspace to look guilty. You smooth it away by reaching down to squeeze at his hands. “If my radiantly stunning fiancé decides she wants me to start repenting for that now, then who am I to stop her?”

Rolling your eyes, you step away from the car. “You’re a suck-up,” you taunt. You plant a light kiss to his lips. “C’mon,” you urge. “The car.”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “The backseat?” he teases. “Shit, angel. You must be desperate.”

Warmth tickles your face. “Shut up.”

Tom smirks deviously. “It’s okay,” he soothes. He darts forward to open the car door for you, resting his hand on your lower back as you step forward. “I’m just as desperate as you, baby.”

“I hate you,” you murmur. Tom follows you into the car, shutting the door behind you both. You wait for him to sit before straddling his lap, your legs stretching until you have a shin planted on either side of his thighs. The position is comfortable, with enough space between your bump and his chest for you to breath, and you whimper as Tom bends nearer to ghost his lips over yours.

“No, you don’t,” he murmurs.

You want to tease him, but you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You’re alright with too much adoration to even think about pressing it down.

“I really don’t,” you agree.

Tom makes a soft noise of vindication, the tip of his nose brushing yours for just a moment until he’s bearing down and bringing your lips together. You sigh, reaching up and urging him closer. His lips are lovely, and you enjoy kissing them for a while, but then you find yourself distracted by the open expanse of his neck. With his hair buzzed, you’re keenly aware of his throat, pale and sensitive, and if there’s one thing you remember about your boyfriend, it’s his affinity for lovebites.

You bring your lips to the side of his neck, nuzzling your mouth against the long, pale stretch of his throat. Smirking against his skin, you start to suckle deep hickeys against the side of his neck, revelling in the throaty gasps Tom deposits into the air in response.

“Fuck, darling,” Tom whines. He has a hand on your back, urging you closer. When you graze the tips of your teeth against his skin, he whimpers. “Shit. More.”

“More?” you tease. “Forgotten all your manners, Tom?”

He growls. The hand on your back shifts to the back of your head, and he jerks you ever closer. He’s still mindful, especially of the bump laying between you, but he knows just as well as you that you aren’t a piece of porcelain; you like being tugged around. You’ve missed it.

“Give me what I want, and maybe I’ll return the favour.” He says it like you’re oblivious to the desperation in his words. You decide to oblige him.

“Okay,” you murmur. You look up to meet his gaze, his honey-brown eyes full of appreciation. For a moment, it knocks you off balance. It’s so strange readjusting to having Tom back—almost overwhelming to be able to touch someone who had existed only in your memories for so many weeks. You drop your head and give him what he wants.

Tom’s skin tastes clean, and it smells distantly of pinecones. He groans, fisting at your hair and holding you close as you kiss and suck along his skin, drawing deep hues to the surface of his neck. He shifts in his seat, basking in the pain and whining every time you soothe a fresh mark with the warmth of your tongue. You keep your hand resting on his hair, the cropped length of his buzz prickly and coarse beneath the pads of your fingertips.

“Oh god yeah,” he murmurs, voice mingling with the wet noises coming from your lips. “Your mouth is so fucking good, baby. I missed it.” Grunting, he brings a hand to your waist, squeezing the flesh of your hips hard. “I thought about you all the time in there.”

Tom releases his hold on your hair and begins to stroke his hands over your back. As you continue to mark his neck, he starts to tease you, gradually dropping the heat of his palms lower and lower. You can’t stop yourself from bucking down into his hold, moaning against his neck as he grabs handfuls of your ass.

“Tom,” you break off to whimper, panting softly. You feel dizzy on the taste of his skin. “You’re being mean.”

“Mean?” you can hear the smirk in his voice. “How am I being mean?” Tom squeezes the curves of your figure, his slender fingers warm against your skin. You’re in a dress, the material thin, and he doesn’t hesitate to curve his hands beneath the hem and bring them to rest over your panties. “You’re the one who wanted to come in here and get your hands all over me… I’m doing what you asked.” He breaks off, chuckling darkly. “That’s not how things usually work, though, is it?”

The air between you shifts.

You pull away from Tom’s neck, your mouth inflamed and throbbing. You have to dig your teeth into your lower lip to muffle your whimper when Tom brings a hand to the front of your legs, gently brushing two of his long fingers over the front of your panties. He’s teasing with it, eyes alight with deviousness, jaw set in a determined line.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Maybe I want to be in charge this time.”

Tom laughs gently. “Oh, yeah?” He rubs your cunt a little faster, causing you to suck in a sharp breath as you feel the delicate pressure on your clit. The contact makes your passage clench, growing wet enough to dampen the front of your panties. “So you don’t like this, hmm? You don’t want me to follow through on everything I have planned for you?”

“What have you got planned?”

He tuts. “Oh, I’m not going to tell you, angel. That’d be too easy. Either you want me to be in charge, or you decide to call the shots.” Tom smirks as he feels you buck down against his hand. Maybe if the circumstances were different, you’d find the strength to push back, but you don’t. It’s been so long, and your cunt is weeping already just from the husky tones in his voice.

“You’re in charge,” you whisper. The vindicated smirk he flashes in response is enough to send shivers down your spine.

“Damn right, baby.” Tom moves his hands away, pressing them to your waist instead. “Can you lay down for me, please?”

You shuffle across the car seat as instructed, Tom shifting until he’s kneeling in the footwell of the backseats. It’s a good thing the car is obscenely huge, otherwise, the already-cramped fit would be unworkable.

Draping your legs over Tom’s shoulders, he pushes the hem of your dress up, bunching it just above your bump. The hungry fire in his eyes fades slightly.

“Is this okay? Are you comfy?”

“It’s fine,” you soothe. “Are you okay down there?”

Tom nods. The scruff of his buzzed head scratches against your inner thighs. “I’m bloody perfect,” he responds. “Can I touch you?”

“Please do.”

The tip of his nose nuzzles against your covered clit. “Perfect,” Tom purrs, his breath hot against your panties. “I think it’s time I remind you who owns this fucking pussy… As hot as it was when you were trying to tell me what to do, it’s not on.” He brings his mouth away from your core, and you whimper as his tongue laps gently across your thigh, the muscle deliciously slippery. “I’m the one calling the shots.”

You’re throbbing, every inch of you aching for his touch. The burn is visceral—pulsing, wet. “Yes, sir,” you return. Tom’s eyes snap to yours. “Do whatever you want.”

“Say please.”

Swallowing the dryness in your throat, you add, “please.”

“Good, baby. You sound so pretty begging for me.” Tom easily pulls your panties down your legs, returning to push your thighs further apart. He brings both of his thumbs to your sensitive lips, humming when you whimper. Using the pads of his fingers, he gently parts your centre, groaning softly at the sight. “Say it,” he murmurs, entranced by the paradise between your legs. “Tell how badly you want me.”

He’s incredibly infuriating, but you play right into his hand. “Please, Tom,” you whine. “Please touch me.”

He hums. “Of course, lovie,” he murmurs. He glances up at you. “All you had to do was ask.”

The first touch of his tongue against your slit makes your eyes roll back. A breathless whine slips past your lips as his mouth envelops your clit, the strong tip of his tongue nuzzling over your sensitive skin in a way you’ve only dreamed of. You’ve been able to get off in his absence, but nothing can simulate the sizzling heat of his mouth and his tongue, nor the scratching of his short hair against your fleshy inner thighs.

The way he unravels you is obscene, toned with the sounds of spit and lazy lips, the sensations of desperation. Tom devours you, using his elbows to push your thighs apart as he buries his face as close to your centre as possible. You can barely see him over the rise of your belly, but you can certainly feel him. When you start to grind down against his face, things only escalate, your eyes fluttering shut as your spine arches in response to his feverish movements.

“Oh god,” he murmurs, voice thick as it vibrates across you. “Missed this… Tastes so fucking good, sweetheart.”

Your high rolls over you suddenly and without warning, manifesting itself in a silent cry as your body goes rigid. You hear Tom hum in surprise, then feel his hands lock around your thighs, holding back your legs as they shake in the face of absolute pleasure.

“Sorry,” you pant, recovering gradually, “I didn’t know that was going to happen then.”

Tom runs his tongue over your slit, still sensitive and throbbing. “‘S okay, lovie,” he replies, voice warm. He nuzzles in closer and brings two slender fingers to push against your entrance. Your hole is hot and pulsing, pooled with your arousal. You hear it pucker as he gently presses against your cunt, teasing your entrance with his fingertips. “I’m not done making it up to you, though. Is that okay?”

Exhaling, you nod quickly. “Fuck yeah,” you say, struggling to think. “Oh.”

He slips two fingers into you, your eager walls parting and welcoming him in. Tom removes his mouth from your heat and replaces his tongue with the pad of a thumb, and when you release a loud noise of strangled enjoyment, he begins to crook his fingers into you. He strokes his digits against your walls with poise and elegance, nudging up against your g-spot and stroking, again and again, chasing the noises you release.

“So pretty,” he coos. “My pretty baby. Making all those beautiful noises.” Tom smiles almost proudly. His chin is wet with your arousal. “I love your cunt… Look at how well it's taking me.” To prove his point, he feeds a third finger alongside the others. “So greedy for me, eh? Greedy little pussy. So hot. So wet. God…”

Tom drops his head again, disappearing from your sight of vision. You moan, body jerking as you feel his tongue move around his fingers, catching the arousal that seeps from your pussy as he works you open. He releases an obscene moan before dragging his mouth to your clit, stimulating you with his hands and tongue in tandem.

“Holy fuck,” you whimper. You feel hot in the best way, your skin becoming sweaty as you writhe over the leather seat. “Feels so good, Tommy.” It feels like heaven—especially when he bends his fingers and the tips of them stroke up against your sensitive spot. “‘M gonna cum again.”

“Already?”

“Yeah.”

Tom chuckles. “I’m so good at this,” he murmurs. “Go on, angel. Don’t hold back on my account… You’re so pretty when you cum.”

The tide breaks, and your climax rolls across you, legs trembling as Tom holds you in place. You writhe as you bask in the heat, your knuckles losing blood as you clench your hands into hard fists. The press of your nails against the soft flesh of your palms hurts, but you don’t care. It feels far too good to think about anything beyond Tom.

You ride it out, and Tom eventually draws his face away from your clit. He kisses along your inner thighs as you gasp for air, only removing his fingers when you start to whimper. As good as the climaxes have felt, panting for breath on the backseat, it isn’t enough. It isn’t enough by far.

“Get up here,” you say breathlessly.

Tom chuckles as he appears from between your legs. He gives your thighs a little tap before he closes your legs, wriggling out of the footwell as you sit up. Easily, like you’ve done a thousand times before, you swing a leg over Tom’s lap, straddling him when he sits with his back against the car seat.

“Are you okay up there?” he checks, bringing his clean hand to rest on the curve of your stomach. When you nod, his brown eyes darken. “Perfect…” he hums. “Clean off my fingers, will you?”

You nod, opening your mouth expectantly and moaning as Tom slips three of his fingers between your lips. Fighting your smirk, you maintain eye contact with him, your pride swelling as you see his cheeks darken. He gently fucks his fingers into your mouth, making you moan at the movements and the taste of your heat as it spreads across your tongue. He’s messy with it, and you feel your lips and chin grow heavy from spittle.

“Pretty,” he coos, “so, so pretty.”

Tom goes to move his fingers from your mouth, only for a detail to make you pause. Eyes straining, you reach up to catch his wrist, holding his hand in place just as his fingers pull away from your lips.

“What’s this?” you query, narrowing your eyes. You drag Tom’s left hand nearer your face, gasping softly as you take note of a new tattoo resting at the bottom of his ring finger.

“Oh.” Tom shifts around slightly, biting at his lower lip. “I got your initials tattooed… When we get married, the ring will cover them, but I wanted you with me—I want you with me—all the time, even without a bit of metal.” He hesitates. “Is that okay?”

You press a delicate kiss across the letters. “Yes,” you say. You feel shy as you meet the eyes of the man who loves you so immensely. “That’s really, really sweet, Tom.” You bite your lip as you look up at him. “Gone soft on me, baby?”

“‘M always soft on you,” he says gruffly, guiding a hand to your face. He brings you closer, encouraging you to lean higher on your knees. “Love of my life, angel. You know that… My wife.”

You shift on his lap, smiling bashfully. “I’m not your wife yet.”

“Soon, soon, soon,” he whispers.

Both of you come together, no words needing to be exchanged for you to know what to do. Tom loses his clothes as you sit up a little straighter, one of your hands curling around the headrest of a seat as Tom angles himself slightly. With the rise of your bump between you, you aren’t able to be flushed together like times before, but the man beneath you is quick to readjust so he’s laying further back, giving you plenty of room to move in a way that’s comfortable. He kisses over your knuckles as you run his hard cock through your slit, his interested eyes fixed firmly on the sight of his length as you finally begin to move down.

The moment the head of his cock pushes into you feels indescribable. The ache of the stretch falls away as relief pours over you, the closeness satisfying far more than just your arousal.

“Gentle, gentle,” Tom murmurs, hand resting on your belly. “Be careful.”

You chuckle, beginning to move but only slowly. “It’s okay,” you reassure him, “it won’t hurt them.” Your eyes roll back slightly as you bring your hand down to rest on Tom’s shoulder, moaning quietly. “You can move too… Please, move.”

“Okay, darling.” Tom gently starts to move his hips. He groans as he slumps back against the seat, beautiful face coloured light pink. You’d missed the expressions he makes, how emotive the slants of his features can be. His nostrils flare and his jaw tenses as you ride him, your cunt so wet the movements are almost effortless. “That feels… so good.” His voice is hollow, gutless. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve been thinking about you. You, and your hot cunt.” He moans again, unable to sit around the words. Tom ruts into you a little harder, guiding you to move faster with the hand on your hip. “Taking me so well, darling. So fucking well. I’m not going to last at all.”

“That’s okay,” you murmur. “I won’t either.”

Tom manages a lazy smirk. He opens his eyes as he brings a hand to your clit, teasing the sensitive bud with his thumb. You jerk a little at the stimulation but start to ease into it, basking in the pleasure from the bud and Tom’s cock. He’s buried deep within you, pressing your walls apart, the curved tip of his head brushing deeper than you’ve felt in months.

“So tight,” he murmurs. Tom leans back, clearly enjoying the sight of you riding him. “My darling. You look so beautiful like this… I swear your tits are bigger, too.” The hand on your belly gently caresses the bump, Tom’s tongue briefly wandering out to wet his lower lip. “Look at how beautiful you are… I can’t wait to knock you up again.”

Stifling a moan, it takes everything in you to focus on your movements. “You feel so good, Tom,” you whimper, unable to hold back the praise he loves to hear. “I missed this so much.”

“I know, baby. I missed this too… Come on, now.” His voice hardens slightly. “I’m about to cum, but I don’t want to unless you’re right here beside me. So… will you be a good girl and finish with me? Please?”

Heat flushes through your system as you bounce your head quickly. Your eyes close, breath hitching as you feel your climax rise. It starts in the pit of your stomach, a coil pulling tighter and tighter until it bends and snaps, bursting wide and spilling pleasure across your body in warm waves of enjoyment. You cry out as you fall apart, holding Tom’s shoulder tightly as his hand clamps around your waist. You feel him mirror you, hear his loud groan as his cock pulses inside you, your movements unceasing as you ride it out together.

It ends, but you stay joined. Tom sits up, the distance put between you by your belly requiring him to stretch closer and seize your lips in a smouldering kiss. His hand returns to your cheek, yours to his, and the look in his eyes is dizzying.

“I love you so much,” he speaks, words soft like a promise. “Everything I do from here on out is for you, and…” He glances back at your stomach. “And our child.” Words thickening, you see Tom’s eyes well with tears again. He chuckles, cheeks flushing red. “Sorry,” he adds. “I get a bit choked up thinking about it.”

You stroke your fingers over the back of his hair, spiky strands smooth against your hand. “Don’t apologise for expressing your emotions, baby,” you whisper. “It’s been a very long day.”

Tom nods. “Love you,” he murmurs again. He nuzzles his head into the palm of your hand, his eyes closing.

“I love you too,” you say, words truer than they’ve ever been before. You bend down to kiss his forehead. “Do you want to go home now?”

He hums. “Y/N,” he whispers. Tom blinks up at you, eyes soft. He catches the palm of your hand with a few kisses as he sits up a little straighter. “I’m already home.”

Teeth grazing your lower lip, you hold back your smile as you marvel at how clichéd he’s become. You bend down and kiss him very gently. “Sap,” you murmur. “Love you, though.”

Tom pulls a face. He rolls his eyes, but there’s no malice—only love. “Love you too,” he says. “Yes, though,” he adds, “I would love to go home.”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

finis

yay

that’s probably a wrap on mob!tom ! i don’t have any more fic ideas for him :( that being said, this was a lot of fun to write, and i really, really hope you liked it :D ik the theme isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, so if you read it all, i love you very very much

please let me know if you have any thoughts!!

masterlist through the link in my bio <3

[kolchekyourweapons]

So I Had This Stupid Idea

(and by stupid, I mean stupid) to replay House of Ashes and ignore EVERY SINGLE QTE BUTTON, AIM SCREEN, ‘BETRAY OR LEAVE’ TYPE CHOICE, and just let nature take its chaotic course – but on top of that to also select ‘SAY NOTHING’ for every single conversation option. 

Why? I have no idea. But I’m glad I did.

If you’d like to see the results of this experiment, please read on! If you’d rather not be subject to such time-consuming randomness or maybe you’re even on the same wavelength and would like to try it for yourself, please don’t read because there will be very detailed spoilers! I just wanted to share in case anyone else is curious what happens for things they haven’t experienced yet when trying to save everybody (and some of these surprised me) but also because I don’t think anyone in their right mind would have picked ‘SAY NOTHING’ for every option and may be curious how chaotic that actually is.

LONG POST, proceed with time on your hands.

I didn’t think it would alter anything significant for the prologue bit but it was actually interesting. Balathu is wounded by the female captive because he doesn’t fight back, refuses to kill her so the guard does it instead. King is very disappointed, much sad. BUT I thought an interesting detail was the fact that he’s injured on his arm means later you don’t even have the QTE option to defend yourself as him against the creature, the creature just gets you.

The ‘SAY NOTHING’ option inevitably meant A LOT of awkward silent staring and it’s hilarious, but the best bit was this from Eric’s arrival through the briefing with him just silently staring everyone down and everyone like –

But even funnier because you’d think this meant Jason didn’t like him but he says ‘yeah nice guy’. Maybe it’s because he likes men who ‘give their mouth some rest’.

Bonus:

Rachel: *says nothing*

Nick: Say no more.

If Eric says nothing, the default option is no air support.

Salim saying nothing to his neighbour and putting the phone down on her was hilarious. 

The raid on the huts was VERY interesting in regard to how you usually play it with Jason when obviously he usually takes control.

Nick: Awaiting orders

Jason: *says nothing*

Nick: LIEUTENANT KOLCHEK

(the way Nick shouts this did something to me, I don’t know why)

*fuck it I’ll do it myself* Nick then proceeds to take charge and give orders to take it slow on the raid.

When everything is settled, Nick then says to Jason, ‘What the fuck happened back there? You hesitated. Were you thinking about the checkpoint?’

Jason says, ‘No’ and walks off. Much brooding.

Then comes the attack by the Iraqis. Merwin uses the WP (which had been brought along after Eric *said nothing* as to whether to bring it) after Jason *says nothing* about whether to use it.

Jason then proceeds to fall over EVERYTHING during that usually bad ass moment of him assault-coursing it through to cover. So Joey gets shot before Nick can get to him. Merwin sees this and screams ‘Joey’ and goes ape shit with another shot of WP. The way Merwin shouts Joey hurt me.

 So this next one really took me by surprise because I thought Salim shouting ‘what the hell do you want’ and laughing like a maniac during his first encounter with the vampire was the only option, but apparently not! If Salim trips over everything when he’s running away, when he turns, he gets down on his knees and prays to Allah. When the truck falls on it, he doesn’t laugh, he says, ‘Merciful Allah’ in a relieved voice.

 Bonus:

(Eric professing his love for Rachel by the generator)

Rachel: *says nothing*

Eric: Okay well this is a little awkward

 When the creature is first chasing Jason and Nick through the tunnels when they’re carrying Merwin, when Jason doesn’t shoot Nick does some really weird Frodo FlopTM and starts screaming? I’m imagining it’s because the vampire did that amazing silhouette moment of standing infront of them and it was a ‘MY SWEET JESUS IN HEAVEN’ moment for Nick.

The default choice if you don’t click is to go through that tunnel pile rather than around when carrying Merwin. When Jason doesn’t fight back he gets flung up against the wall leading to Merwin starting to shoot in defence… AND THEN HE GETS DECAPITATED.

I had heard in legend that there was a ‘Merwin gets decapitated option’ but I had NO CLUE how to get it, but here we are – that’s how. RIP Yo Moma Jokes.

The scene where Rachel and Eric are creeping away from Dar, Dar hears them when Eric knocks a rock so he follows. Dar then shoots Eric while he’s clinging onto the rope – Eric says ‘Rachel’ with his dying breath before she falls and he falls and gets impaled. Shot AND impaled. Tough day for the colonel, but this death particularly broke me because I’ve never had that one before.

During the sequence that Salim pulls the truck off the vampire, he misses the epic leap and is hanging on for dear life – the vampire graciously helps him by leaping over and then grabbing his head to hurl him back. Salim gets the Metal PipeTM but gets tackled. The American soldiers arrive early to shoot the creature and Salim flees. This also means that he doesn’t discover the creature’s weakness to sunlight during this bit. 

 A little detail: Nick discovers Joey’s crucifix alongside the med kit and says ‘Please god let him be all right’.

 Both Jason and Nick get wounded during the Dar ambush scene when he hurls the grenade.

 During Nick and Salim’s first vampire fight bonding scene, Nick makes a noise resulting in the creature noticing them. It attacks Nick and he shouts, ‘Please please help me.’ Jason arrives early and shoots the creature but it gets away. Salim is already spotted so they all pull out their guns, but Salim surrenders like good boi.

 A little detail: Vampire Joey punches Jason in the face when Jason doesn’t fight back, and I don’t know why but that’s so funny to me.

 Bonus:

Clarice: Giving me the silent treatment, huh?

Rachel: *says nothing*

 The default result at the chasm was also that Rachel abandons Clarice.

 While Jason and Nick are trying to get the transmitter to work, Dar rescues Salim. Jason gets shot when Nick fails to provide cover for their flank as well as tripping over everything and he shouts, ‘WHERE THE FUCK WAS MY COVER, SERGEANT?’

 Jason, who has been shot and injured twice on the same shoulder by this point: ‘PUT YOUR SHOULDER INTO IT’ as he pushes against a door. Poor Jason.

 During the standoff in the main temple (where the machine gun is that Rachel has the option to fire) she gets killed by one of the creatures by graphically pulverising her stomach, and then it proceeds to infect her body.

 When the fighting begins in the sacrificial chamber stand off, Nick gives Salim a gun, which I thought was an interesting detail.

 Bonus Jason and Salim exchanges:

 Salim: *says nothing*

Jason: You just gonna stand there like a god damn mute?

 Salim: *says nothing*

Jason: How about you keep your ideas about my country to yourself?

 Jason: You got any idea what we’re dealing with?

Salim: *says nothing*

Jason: Huh. Well I’ll just talk to myself, then.

 Salim: *says nothing*

Jason: I think you need to give your mouth some rest

 (That last one particularly got me)

 Jason: Is that your wife?

Salim: *says nothing*

Jason: I was wrong to judge you. You’re all right.

 When Nick wakes up from being knocked out in the sacrificial chamber, he’s accosted by both the undead (Balathu) and a now-infected Rachel. She’s like some sort of rabid puppy waiting for orders and Balathu gives her the boss nod and she’s like ‘yay’ and sprints after Nick.

 Jason inhaled the dead vampire (sad face)

When Jason starts coughing in the star chamber, Salim says, ‘Hey! Your coughing may attract the vampires!” This one killed me because I know when they have a developed relationship he instead says ‘it’s okay, you’re okay’ and now he’s just WILL YOU STFU

 Nick retreats from the motherlode by default, but one of the vampires accosts him because of his wound dripping blood and, without fighting back, Nick is killed and the vampire goes to ABSOLUTE TOWN on his insides.

 Now it’s just Salim and Jason left, so obviously this is gonna hurt because we know what’s coming.

 Infected Rachel comes back to chase them up the rope, but Jason cuts it.

Bonus:

Jason: *cutting the rope* Long live the Queen

I’m living for that line, I’d never had the scene play out like that before.

 So another thing I found interesting because I’d always had it that Salim discovers their weakness to sunlight/Eric has the UV lamp, but this time when Jason and Salim climb out back at the shepherd’s huts, they look back into the hole confused and say ‘I don’t get it, where are they, why aren’t they coming up?’

But OF COURSE they come up when the sun goes bye bye.

Balathu comes after them in the hut and yep, without being able to press a single damn button to save them, Jason gets a healthy dose of Balathu through his skull and Salim is speared as well as being bitten in the neck. Broke my heart when his body also fell against Jason’s body in some sort of macabre spooning.

In Conclusion

I thought this would be a really stupid idea, and of course it was, but I really enjoyed all the extra bits I’d never heard/seen before! But it also made me like Nick’s character more to see him take control a little bit more, but obviously when Jason is actually making decisions like he should you don’t get that from Nick. 

Now I’m gonna pretend it never happened. 

[canarydraws]

I don’t think I ever shared my Curse of Strahd character here! I’m playing Dex, a dhampire ranger and so far I have been the trouble maker of the group lol. For example, just last session my friends had to get me out of jail because I had managed to enrage every guard on the city wall because I was trying to cause a distraction.

(Said distraction involved spider climbing up the wall and swearing at all the guards. …hey it worked? They just thought Dex was the devil or something)

[drabbles-mc]

Quick Rinse

Coco Cruz x F!Reader

Request from Anon: Can I possibly pretty pretty please 🍒 😁 request a lovely smutty with Coco where the reader is fresh out of the shower cause it’s hot as balls out and she is laying on their bed butt ass naked and he comes home and sees her, and asks if she was waiting for him as he is kissing up her legs and she meantions that it was too hot and didn’t want to shower again as he is running his nose along her left butt cheek (they both just discovered that it’s one of her new turn spots it was just her ears before) and he says well we can shower again cause seeing you naked (bites said butt cheek) is doing things to him.

Warnings: unprotected sex, mentions of bodily fluids, spanking, language

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: I had to brush the cobwebs out of my brain for this one because I cannot remember the last time that I wrote smut lmao. I didn’t explicitly mention a couple of the background details just for the sake of jumping right into the story. Hope you enjoy!

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You were sprawled out on you bed, laying on your stomach. You were scrolling idly on your phone, not thinking too much of the fact that you hadn’t redressed after your shower. Summers in Santo Padre were always brutal, and today was no exception. Truthfully, you felt like the shower hadn’t done too much good and you felt like you were going to be taking another one before the day was out.

The distant rumble of Coco’s bike could be heard from your bedroom. You didn’t bother getting up, knowing that his first stop once he got inside and took his boots off was going to be the bedroom. At this point you could’ve counted it off on a timer, he was so calculated with his daily routines. You heard the clunking of him taking his boots off, and you knew that next he would shrug off his kutte and drape it over the nearest piece of furniture, he’d pause and think about possibly grabbing himself a drink from the fridge, only to decide that it could wait and he would come and say hello to you first.

Hardly a couple minutes went by before you heard the creaking of the floorboards outside the bedroom. There was the creaking of the door opening and not even a second later, a low whistle filled the air.

“Damn,” Coco walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, running his hand up the back of your calf, “I woulda left the clubhouse sooner if I knew I was comin’ home to this.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you continued to scroll on your phone, “My ass looks the same now as it did an hour ago, Coco. You didn’t miss anything.”

He shifted so he was straddling you, still just below your knees, “You mean you weren’t just laying here waiting for me like this?”

His hands continued to roam up your calves and thighs, and it was only a matter of moments before you felt his lips pressing light, affectionate kisses against your skin. the way his lips brushed so lightly over your skin made you squirm slightly as you giggled. Each of his hands were lightly gripping the backs of your thighs, thumbs tracing back and forth. You hummed in approval, glancing back over your shoulder at him.

“Came home just to give me a massage?”

“Nah, but,” his lips trailed kisses up your thighs, “I got some other ideas for things we could do.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head, “Coco I just showered and I don’t wanna take another one already. It’s too hot for this shit.”

“You’re too hot to just be layin’ here like this and expecting me not to do something about it,” he pressed a soft kiss to your butt cheek and you hated that that was all it took to get the gears turning in your mind.

“Coco…” it was a hint of a warning.

“C’mon, querida, we can always just take another shower afterwards. ‘Cause this is already driving me crazy,” he nipped at the skin he’d just kissed, eliciting a yelp from you, not having expected it. His grip on your legs tightened as he kissed your ass again, and you could already feel your body giving into him as he continued to speak, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

The low rasp in his voice did you in. Your muscles all relaxed as you responded, “You always do.”

You could feel the way that his lips curled into a smile against you, and you couldn’t help but to smile as well. He pressed one more hard kiss to your cheek before backing up off the bed. He was off the mattress just long enough to discard the rest of his clothes, and you found yourself biting down on your bottom lip as you watched him strip, seeing that he was already getting hard. Then he was back on the bed, kneeling behind you as he positioned your legs to his liking. You watched him over your shoulder as his eyes raked over your body. His tongue ran along his bottom lip, letting you know that he was thinking about each and every move he was about to make.

His hands gripped you by the hips and lifted you up, and you could feel your body shivering with anticipation. Glancing back over your shoulder, you watched as his one hand ran along the curve of your ass as he brought the other up to his mouth. He spit into the palm of his hand before running it along his length, the grip of his other hand tightening on your ass as he did. A whine slipped past your lips as you watched him stroke himself, and his mouth instantly curled into a smirk at the sound.

He lined himself up at your entrance, “You know I always got you,” he pulled you back by your hips, easily sliding himself into you, “Right?”

A low shuddering moan came from you, filling the room. You could hear Coco cursing under his breath as he began to thrust into you. You immediately tightened around him, having missed the feeling of him inside you. Your fingers gripped the bedsheets, jaw going slack as his pace increased. Your brain was about to completely blank out in ecstasy when you felt his hand come down hard on your ass.

“Fuck,” you gasped out as the stinging sensation went through you.

“You like that shit?” you weren’t looking at him but you could tell from the tone of his voice that he had a smug grin on his face as he continued fucking you.

The word, “Yes,” slipped past your lips but it was hardly audible. Speaking was the farthest thing from your mind at the moment.

Usually Coco liked to take advantage of you when you were like that, tried to drag more words out of you just because he liked to hear you struggle to string them together. There was something powerful about knowing that he could do that to you. But this time, he didn’t. He rubbed his hand over the place that he’d just struck, causing you to push back into his touch.

You could feel yourself getting closer and closer, your body beginning to tense up around him. You knew he could feel it, too, because his grip on your hips began to tighten, slamming into you with more and more force. Not that you cared, but you were fairly certain that your nails were about to tear through the thin fabric of your bedsheets.

Pushing back so that his body connected with yours as deeply as it could, you came around him. Despite the fact that the only thing on your mind was how amazing it felt to having him still pounding into you, you heard the breath that he sucked in when he felt you tighten around him as you came. There would definitely be bruises where his fingers were with the way that he held you so tightly as he chased his own high.

You were content to let him use you, the overstimulation of him continuing to fuck you through your orgasm leaving you unable to do much else. You felt the calloused pads of his fingers as he ran his hand up your back. His fingers curled around your shoulder as his pace grew sloppy, the noises he was making more guttural. It was only a matter of a few more moments before you felt him pull out of you completely, the sudden emptiness catching you off-guard. The low moan he let out as he finished on your back was music to your ears.

He collapsed on the bed next to you, trying to catch his breath, “Fuck,” he let out a raspy laugh.

You chuckled, your mind still reeling, “Yea.”

“You good?” he raised his eyebrows as he asked.

Watching the way his chest rose and fell rapidly, you nodded, “I’m good.”

He leaned in, kissing you lightly on the lips, “I love you.”

You hummed in approval, “I love you too. But,” you saw the shift in his expression at your caveat and you tried not to laugh, “now I really need to take a fucking shower.”

He chuckled, “Can I come with you?”

“No point in saying no to you now, right?” you laughed as you carefully made your way to the edge of the bed, “But you’re in charge of scrubbing my back.”

He laughed, “Fine.”

“Hey,” you grabbed the towels off your bedroom door, “You make the mess, you gotta clean it up.”

[spikesbimbo]

Paring: Aone x f!reader

Summary: wet dream, or not?

Tags: dilf!aone, housewife!reader, sleepy late night sex, spooning, daddy kink, soft sweet sex, creampie,

wc: 1.6k

a/n:  Aone is 38, reader is 24 bc i said so

part of the dilf collab

18+ minors dni

-

“Thank you honey.” he muttered, wiping the sweat of his forehead, wanting to kiss those lips of yours so bad, but not wanting to get your precious skin dirty, and the way his coworkers were looking at the two of you meant he already had it coming.

Wondering how he got such a pretty thing, knowing you had to be at least half his age. Your pretty smile brightening the area around you as you clung onto his arm, having no shame in your affection for him. The constant teasing was worth it though if it meant he got to come home to you every night.

Grabbing the lunch out of your hands that he forgot this morning after you gave him a ‘good morning kiss’ before he left. Calling him saying you would bring it to him after seeing the box wrapped in the fabric laying on the counter, convincing him instead of buying snacks from the convenience store. 

Your sundress blowing in the wind that must feel so good to him right now, not wanting his eyes to leave you as you unfortunately had to go. Looking at the scruff on his face after not shaving this morning because you made him run late, the way his arms barely fit around his white shirt, the soft smile he gave you as his fingers were tracing your hand had you swooning. 

Muttering out a quick thank you again as he was about to turn around before you got on your toes meeting his lips with yours, seeing that they were minding their own business now,  just wanting some affection from your husband as earlier wasn't enough.

Catching him off guard as he gave in, a tint appearing on his cheeks, not embarrassed, never because of you, but because of him. The fact that your pretty little self was with him had people turning their heads, purposely going out of your way to show everyone the ring on your left hand. Being so proud that you had him, as he was with you.

Giggling as you left him there frozen, blowing him a kiss as you started walking away. The wind feeling cool on your skin as you walked home, mind still racing with him like he was the only thing you knew. 

__________________

Resting your head on the pillow, legs propped up on the couch, eating the takeout after he texted you he'd be home late so you didn't have to worry about him. Heart slightly cracking when you read the words, understanding as you knew his job had weird hours, this not being the first time it's happened. 

Eyes getting heavy as you watched the tv under the dim lights, the food growing cold as you haven't touched it in a while, resting on the table beside the vase of flowers he got you the other day. Head hurting as you laid down, eyes quickly closing after being tired doing nothing but waiting for him all day, vision quickly growing black. 

Waking up to your husband's touch, shifting in his hold as he carried you to the bedroom. Laying you down as he changed his clothes, quickly getting into bed with you. Your warm weight clinging onto him as a natural instinct, letting out a quiet groan as you realized you were snuggling into his chest, turning your face up while blinking slowly at him.

“What time is it?” You asked uncurling yourself from him.

“9:14.”

“You just got here?” You asked, missing the usual “Honey, I’m home.” as you were knocked out.

He knew you were gonna worry about him, as your sweet self did. Whispering softly into your ear as his hands wandered down to your sides, soothingly rubbing them trying to get you to go back to sleep. “Yeah...i just got back.”

The pout of your face said enough as you moved yourself up to be face to face with him. “You need to take a break baby. c'mere”

Pulling him into your chest, sighing as he let you. Thinking it was cute to be scolded by someone whose face was still puffy from just waking up. Slightly smiling as you refused to move your arms even though he could easily get out.

“You okay, shoulders hurt?” you asked running your fingers through his stress induced graying hair, only being able to tell up close due to the white hiding it. Massaging his temples, relaxing his muscles as the embedded frown on his face disappeared.

“Yeah, the usual.” 

Mumbling out “shouldn't be” under your breath as your arms brought him closer into you, wrapping your legs sound his waist, using him like the teddy bear he was. Eyes quickly falling shut at the feeling of his arms engulfing you, running his fingers down your back.

Your senses are hyper aware, sensitive at the slightest touch. Almost overwhelming as your half awake brain takes its time to feel everything. His chest rising against your back, a mewl escaping your lips, shivering at the ghost of his touch.

Unknowingly rolling your hips into his slack body, minding racing with thoughts of him pushing your ankles to your ears. The feeling is unbearable – pussy clenching as you tighten your thighs, an audible whine breaking you out of your trance, along with him.

“You need me love?” his voice hoarse with sleep muttered out. To be honest he was awake at your first movement, still resting his eyes knowing that you move around when you sleep, but when he heard you let out muffled whines he felt awful knowing that he was the cause.

“Y-yea, i-m’sorry daddy” your pitiful voice breaks his heart, so needy that his name didn't even exist in your mind anymore. His brain all foggy trying to formulate a sentence.

“Daddy ain't been payin enough attention to you to the point of you dreaming about it? M’sorry baby” he cooed sliding up his shirt off your waist, tugging your panites down, feeling needier as ever as you rocked your hips.

“M-m’sorry” you whimpered out, ashamed that you greedily woke him up just for your own need, hiding your face in the pillow as his fingers worked their way down to your poor little cunt, so neglected. Your fingers feeling nothing like his cock.

“Shh baby, s’okay let daddy take care of you.” his hot breath whispered into your ear, sending shivers down your spine while catching your made up protests with his fingers rubbing lazy circles on your clit. “S’my job honey.”

His big frame resting behind you put you at ease as his arm resting under you wrapped its way around your waist, pushing up the shirt even more. Calloused warm hands resting on your tummy as his sleepy eyelashes fluttered on your neck.

“n-nobu… please…” you begged, bit-down nails scratching at his forearm, body working against your mind as you tried to push his hand away.

His voice was raspy as he groaned, giving you what you wanted, never being able to tell his baby no. Warm hands picking up your thigh enough to slide himself in, your lips parting, whimpers coming out as he pulled you down on his cock. 

“Here, Baby. It’s okay… just relax…” he softly groaned as you complied, not wanting to upset him. Letting your body be limp as he started to rock his hips back and forth, 

“There's my good girl, lemme do the work, okay sweetheart? You did such a good job, let daddy take over.” He mumbled into your shoulder as his arm wrapped around you tighter, pulling you to his chest.

Eyes opening fully, the dim alarm light shining on your body covered in a sheen of sweat. You loved how easily he could make you feel good, even on the verge of sleep, warm and quiet in the early hours of the morning. All it took was him mumbling out some praise and the feeling of your cervix getting gently bruised to cum.

“That’s it, baby, god you’re so tight…..I’m gonna cum, love.”

Moving faster as your shared orgasm built, his balls swelling as you tightened around him, panting out. Tongue lolling as silent moans left your mouth, clenching around him more as further around him as he chased your pleasure.

“Y-yeah… fuck… I’m g- gonna, cum, please… nobu. d-daddy please.” you begged, voice cracking as moans interrupted your words.

The feeling of his heat against your back, being completely helpless at his pace, taking him further and further to his release. Vision going black as your eyes rolled back, body shaking as he thrust himself deeper, pleasure overtaking your body as his cum was fucked into you, gasps escaping your mouth. Your body tingling as he finally let you come down from your high.

The weight of your leaning on his arm, the softness of your skin as he rested his head there. Nothing bothering him if you were in his arms, not feeling this at ease in almost a month, the only thing that mattered was cradled against his body. 

“You’re good baby. S’okay, just relax now.”

A small hum left your lips as you pushed yourself into him more. Feeling so comfy and safe here, relaxed against his bare chest, his thick cock stretching you out even soft. Letting yourself relax in his hold as you collapsed next to him.

The room is quiet besides your small breaths growing fainter, the wet sound of his lips against your shoulder, feeling his messy hair tickle you. Your eyes are closed but his aren't, looking at you with a faded look of fondness, head curling into your neck.

He felt the moment you passed out again, your chest rising lighter. Worn out, all the tension drained from you what little tension had remained in him. The only way he could fully rest was with you in his arms, curling into him as he held you tight, nothing was even worth thinking of besides you.

[fruggo]

Hello ! I saw the enemies fo lovers things and I wanna request if possible

“ rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me three days ago. “

With frank if you would and thank you

yessirrr i love frank sm it’s not ok. also umm i may have accidentally written friends to enemies to lovers or something idk. and though i wouldnt necessarily call you friends at the start, you werent really enemies yet???? idk🐸just ummm yeh i love frank

also help how do i not go overboard???? i feel like i made this way too long, please help and i am sorry

warnings: canon-typical violence, swearing, frank being a bastard but then you’re like awwww he’s a cute bastard aaaaw

~~

Things were weird with Frank, and they always had been from the moment you stepped foot in the Entity’s realm. He always tunneled you relentlessly, and that made you think of him as a big asshole, but there were some strange details tacked onto the sentiment that greatly confused you, should you think about it for more than three seconds.

Sometimes, it seemed like he went easy on you in chases, like he put in no effort. He would chase you for a while, let you waste his time, and then leave without even getting a hit on you when he definitely had the ability to.

And you hated saying this, but when he handled you, it almost felt…gentle. Granted, he was a killer, and his job was to murder you, but your experiences with him did not quite line up with those of the other survivors.

They always described trials against Frank as “stepping on legos in the middle of the night” or something akin to that. You never felt like that, though—when he chased you, it felt fair. Almost as if he played nice with you. And more often than not, the killer would let you go when he caught you. The reason remained a mystery to you until quite a bit later.

This trial, Frank was in 100% bastard mode. You had begun to think of his trials as quite easy due to his seemingly calm nature around you, so you were rather caught off guard when he downed you in the first 30 seconds of the match and tossed you onto a hook, no gentleness whatsoever.

You wanted to yell at him and ask what the fuck was wrong with him until you realized this was his fucking job, and this is how he should have been treating you all along. Maybe you had just been imagining it all, but you could have sworn he used to leave you alone more than this. Something just felt different.

After you were unhooked, he went for you again. And again. And then you were dead, completely wiped out of the trial. Frank had demolished you with no remorse.

You knew it was silly to feel betrayed, but you really couldn’t help it. In such an insane and hellish place, anything that could be even remotely perceived as kindness seemed like so much more of a big deal than it truly was. So Frank’s supposed “gentleness” with you had felt somewhat like a friend doing you a selfless favor. Of course, it was not a selfless favor, and it was certainly nowhere near kindness, because he was still a killer chasing you with a knife, but your standards had really lowered in this place.

After that trial, you were back to hating Frank for tunneling and bullying you (like you probably should). You began to understand the survivors’ saying about the legos—and you hoped that Frank would step on some legos too, because he fucking sucked sometimes.

And for a while, that’s just how it was. You nearly forgot how he used to go easier on you, and how you used to do okay in his matches. Now every time you were pit against each other it just felt like you were being stuck with a bunch of pins; you never had any time to breathe or rest or do literally anything. He just went after you until you were gone, and there was next to nothing you could do about it.

Everything changed very suddenly during a trial at Ormond.

You were expecting the same old routine with this asshole—chase, blah blah blah, die. You hardly had energy to fight back anymore.

So when he arrived out of breath at the killer shack, somehow knowing you would be here, Frank was surprised to find you relaxing under the window with your arms loosely crossed, a disapproving scowl upon your countenance. It was enough to make him hesitate in his tracks.

You let out a deep breath, refusing to break eye contact with his mask; you kept up that menacing frown for as long as you could, trying to make him feel guilty (who knows if it was even possible for him to feel guilty? But it was worth a try).

“Just kill me,” you said, voice steady and seemingly unbothered. Underneath the surface, you were trembling, but you stood your ground. “That’s what you’re gonna do, isn’t it? You’re going to chase me until I’m miserable and kill me off as soon as you can?”

Frank went still, not even fidgeting with his knife like he usually did; he was intrigued by your sudden confidence.

You went on. “I’m really sick and tired of you, you know that? I’m sick of you and your bullshit. Why can’t you treat me like everybody else? At first, you went easy on me. Now you just torture me with your stupid mind games, and frankly, I’m sick of playing! I’m done with you—I don’t care anymore! Just kill me, and I’ll get out of your way, okay asshole? Mori me if you want. I don’t give a shit.”

You put your hands up exasperatedly, fully expecting him to take the offer and just send you back to the campfire right then and there. But the man sighed, pocketed his knife, and sat down right next to you as if this were a normal thing for him to do.

You scooted a few inches away out of instinct. Frank noticed, but he chose not to say a word about it.

It was a long time before he said anything, and when he finally did, you wanted to punch him so bad.

“It’s complicated,” he mumbled. And that was all.

Oh, yeah? It was complicated? You scoffed, hanging your head with a bitter smile. “Oh, okay. Sure.”

Silence again.

Awkward, suffocating silence.

And then Frank got up and left. You were unbothered for the remainder of the trial, not even a scratch or bruise on your body.

~~

Sometimes you simply did things, and you didn’t know why. This thing that you just did was irrational, stupid, unplanned, unwise, and everything in-between, and you knew it was, but frequently you just had no impulse control. Perhaps it was the Entity’s influence, or maybe you had always been this way—you couldn’t really remember.

How did you get here again? Why were you laying on the ground? And why did your leg hurt so fucking much?

Oh, yes. Yes, yes, you remember now.

Funnily enough, it seems as though the Entity, along with certain killers, did not like it when survivors tried to enter their side of the forest! But you did it anyways, and it appeared that you had suffered the consequences. It’s not like you had put much thought into it; where was the point in that when nothing mattered anymore and you were stuck in an endless cycle of death?

You remembered entering the killer’s woods, looking around, and doing…something. What was that something? You couldn’t be sure, but then you remembered somebody coming up to you and probably definitely hurting you. Yep, your leg definitely was in a lot of pain. You couldn’t even look at it. Did you pass out for a while? Maybe. How long were you out for?

You lay still there for a while, thinking. Man, it really hurt, and boy, were you miserable. Maybe more miserable than you’d ever felt here. The Entity normally healed wounds immediately, but perhaps you had just angered it so much you deserved to suffer.

Oh, dear! You seemed to be passing out at this time. Yes, that was almost certainly what was happening. Black spots danced across your eyes as your body began to feel distant and numb, but you didn’t feel very worried about it. In fact, you felt like making jokes right now, but you had nobody to make jokes to and you probably couldn’t even speak.

Just as you began to accept it, there was a strange thumping sensation vibrating through the ground growing closer…and closer…

Footsteps! That’s good!

Oh. Not if it’s a killer. That’s not good, probably.

But you had no way of protesting when you felt yourself being picked up, because those black spots in your eyes were dancing a lot faster now, perhaps something akin to an Irish jig, and you also couldn’t feel your limbs.

Then you were fast asleep again, dreaming of Irish dancers who were actually big fluffy cloud people wearing leprechaun clothes. Nobody but you would ever know this, and it was going to stay that way.

On the bright side, it made it a lot easier for your rescuer to carry you to safety like this.

~~

When you awoke once more, you were horrified to find yourself in the Ormond lodge of all places. You knew immediately what had happened and were determined to escape as soon as possible.

Your injured leg proved to be a huge problem, however, and you collapsed the second you attempted to find freedom. Trying again, you collapsed once more, and probably maimed yourself further in the process.

Hearing the commotion from the second floor, your least favorite member of The Legion descended down from the main stairs, refusing to look directly at you even as he scooped you up and plunked you (gently) back onto the couch, which was rather comfortable (not that you would ever tell him that).

So he was playing it cool, huh?

Okay. You could play it cool, too. You were cool. Smooth as butter.

No. You really couldn’t be cool in a situation like this, and plus, your mind was still a little woohoo since whatever accident had occurred. Suddenly you blurted out, “Frank, I hate your guts.”

And he had the audacity to laugh. He laughed at you! He did the man chuckle thing, as if what you were saying was funny. No! You were completely serious! You did hate his guts!

Perhaps your face showed how upset you were, because he started to apologize (still laughing).

“Maybe you should go back to sleep,” Frank said after calming down a bit.

No. You couldn’t go back to sleep. You did not want to experience dancing cloud people dressed as leprechauns ever again in your life, for the rest of eternity. Never again.

So you shook your head violently, refusing to give an explanation, which just provoked Frank to anger all of a sudden. If you went back to sleep, he could have some alone time while the rest of The Legion was gone. He kept pushing, and you kept resisting, and he pushed and you resisted, until finally he gave up and let you off with a warning. If you made him mad again, he was throwing you out in the snow.

Fine with me, you said. Okay, I’ll do it right now, he said. No balls, you said.

So then Frank casually went to scoop you up in his arms again, and you started to freak out and beat your hands against his chest until he put you back down. He was was awfully mindful of your hurt leg for someone who was about to throw you into the snow.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—please don’t throw me out,” you fussed. You thought he wouldn’t actually do it. You didn’t know it, but you were right—he was just messing with you because it was funny seeing you scared.

After a bit more griping back and forth, Frank began to grow concerned about your leg. He didn’t know how to bring up the topic because things were so odd between the two of you; this was your first interaction since the brief encounter in the shack. But he swallowed his pride, because the wound seemed to be getting worse by the minute.

“Hey, do you want me to, uhh…get some supplies?” Frank asked awkwardly. When you didn’t understand, he continued, “Your leg? It looks like it hurts…I could fix it if you want.”

You barked out a laugh at his words, unbelieving of this shift in attitude. “Rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me three days ago,” you snickered, genuinely finding it amusing.

Frank took offense. He was trying to be nice for once, and you thought it was funny. And his situation really was complex, whether you chose to believe it or not. Maybe he should just tell you to get it off of his chest.

“Listen,” he said, voice laced with seriousness. “When I told you things were complicated, I meant it.”

Sensing the mood change from his tone and body language, you stopped smiling and decided to pay attention to him. Just this once. Never again. After this you could go back to hating him.

Frank continued. “The Entity was going to start…well, hurting me, if I didn’t start doing better in trials. I really didn’t want to sacrifice you, which is embarrassing to admit, but I’ll say it. And I don’t think it liked that.”

You were surprised. And also relieved that you had been right all along—he had been going easy on you at first.

“Why me, though?” you asked, confused. “Why wouldn’t you want to sacrifice me? What about the other survivors?”

If the slight tilt of his head at your question didn’t answer it for you, the way he started tapping his feet and cracking his knuckles so nervously did.

Boy, if looks could kill, you would have died instantly at the scowl Frank sent your way; you grinned pridefully at the realization that this man was down bad. You couldn’t see the expression behind his mask, though, which Frank was thankful for.

He hated every second of this, but you loved it. You reveled in his embarrassment.

Leaning forward on your hands, you begged, “Tell me more! I want to hear all about your feelings for me.”

“I could stab you right now, you know that?”

“But you won’t. You liiiiike me!”

“What are you, eight years old?”

“No, but I am severely injured and have lost a lot of blood so I am not necessarily in the right headspace at the moment.”

“You make a fair point.”

“So tell me! What’s your favorite thing about me?”

“Your ass.”

“No, really.”

“Okay, your ass and your hair.”

“You know what, Frank, I still hate your guts.”

“No, you don’t.”

You paused for a moment. It was probably the blood loss talking, you decided later, but you said, “No. Maybe I don’t.”