#that fic comes back to haunt me every few weeks

[hecatesbroom]

I was going through my drabbles folder when I came across this & I figured I might as well share it! I guess you could view it as an extension of I’m tired of wanting more / I think I’m finally worn. So uh, enjoy the Dorothy angst under the cut.

Is this it? Dorothy wonders as she stares out into their cold and dark living room, exhaustion wrapped around her like a thick fur coat. It's heavy and fuzzy at the same time; a weight pulling her towards the ground that serves as a protective layer from the world all the same — because nothing can quite make it through the thick haze anymore. Not entirely.

Her bare feet touch the cold hardwood floor and she should've been shivering by all accounts, but she doesn't feel the chill so much as she knows it's there, rationally. She's too tired to mind it. To feel— anything, really, aside from this gaping, desperate exhaustion.

Is this it? She wonders. The moment she'll finally break? The day she'll fall apart?

She's tired. Oh, so tired. Of Stan, of their life together, of the eternal charade she plays — the part of a loving wife and a happy mother; the part of a woman who chose this life, rather than that of a girl crudely pulled under by the currents of life.

She's asked herself this very same question before, and every time, she found she did fall apart — but only briefly. Short enough for her to pick up the pieces and glue herself back together again come morning, when she'll be even more exhausted, sure — but no one will notice anyway.

They never do.

She wonders if she'll fall apart enough for there to be no way back this time — if she'll shatter into so many tiny little pieces, there's no gluing them back together again.

Is it bad, to long for it in some strange, fearful way? At this point, her own involuntary destruction seems like the only salvation within reach.

[reiderwriter]

📃 Desk Duty 📃

Unit Chief Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Summary: After taking a bullet on a case, Spencer orders you to desk duty. After two months of pushing papers and his pushing you away for fear of hurting you, you've had enough.

Warnings: Established BDSM scenario, public sex, masturbation (female and male), mentions of sex toys, breaking and entering, multiple orgasms, squirting, shoe riding, slapping (ass, face, pussy), wet/dirty/messy sex, deep-throaring, face fucking, exhibitionism, risky sex, creampie, sloppy sex, pet play (puppy), Hard Dom Spencer, bratty sub reader, degradation (slut, whore, bitch used). Confessions of love at the end because I'm not a monster.

A/N: Hello, it's me, painfully single, back with another in a series of fics that I think will haunt my (wet) dreams for eternity. Thank you to @lightvixxen for requesting shoe riding all those moons ago, I am so glad we share in the same brand of brain rot. Enjoy~♡

Masterlist || Bingo Board

The first time you were shot, you were surprised it hurt so much. Of course, you knew it was going to hurt. You knew you'd eventually be shot. 

But the graze to your arm stung like a bitch, and had you whimpering on the floor of a warehouse like a small child who'd fallen off their bike for the first time. 

You'd picked yourself back up, and, luckily, the shot had avoided doing any serious damage, but you were relegated to desk duty for two months after. Just until you could prove you weren't traumatised, and there wasn't any permanent damage to your arm.

Two months of staying home while your boss gallivanted around the country, happily diving in front of bullets and jumping on bombs. Two months of staying home waiting for him to come back and rail you. 

You'd been sleeping with Spencer Reid practically since he'd become the Unit Chief, and with the announcement that there were only a few more weeks left until Emily Prentiss came back from her special task force, you were really losing time alone in the office you'd been enjoying the pleasures of one another in. 

Of course, there would still be motel rooms for you later, but soon he wouldn't have the keys to your room, making your secret trysts slightly riskier. You weren't sure you wanted everyone in the office to know just what it was the two of you were getting up to in your spare time. 

So, with your last two months of freedom relegated to desk duty, you sulked. 

Spencer was clear that he was leaving you behind so you could recuperate, but you didn't exactly expect him to go cold turkey. 

You'd been apart before, having been sent on separate inmate interviews, and you'd made do with a poorly connected video call, a dildo and your hands, getting all the inspiration you needed watching him pump his cock in his fist.  

But somehow, your injury had made him borderline chaste, and he refused to even touch you while you were still in - his words, not yours - recovery. 

It had been a month since he'd fucked you. Hell, it had been a month since you'd even seen his cock. A month since you'd had any kind of orgasm, first because your dominant hand had been out of action, and then because you'd felt so frustrated without him, you couldn't bring yourself to do it alone. 

He messaged you daily, called practically once every eight hours, and made sure you were eating and sleeping even from halfway across the country. 

But he didn't make any mention of your growing frustration, even as you tried your best to tempt him into sin. 

A month into purgatory, you'd started hinting at your own needs. Your teammates had taken a case in Atlanta, and you'd stuck behind a days drive away and heard absolutely nothing. 

You'd called, and Luke had picked up, making his presence known before you could royally screw up and beg for something to fuck. 

“H-Hi, Luke. I was just wondering how the case was going. Is there anything I can help with from the office?” You asked, stammering on the phone as you pulled your hand out from between your thighs. 

“You want to help? At 11pm at night?”

“Sure do! You know me… go-getter?” You stuttered the words, not even believing them yourself, biting your lip in anxiety and hoping that Luke would just think you were going stir crazy. 

“I'll hand you to Reid, he's been talking about some case files you might be able to help with.” 

“Thank you,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief. 

You heard the phone switch hands, and then you heard movement until the line went quieter, and Spencer's voice popped into your ear. 

“Y/N?” 

“I miss you,” you sighed before you could say anything else, fingers sliding between your thighs before you could think to stop yourself. 

“I miss you, too,” he whispered hesitantly, but you heard the smile in his voice as he answered. 

“You're working so late tonight, I'd hoped…” you trailed off, feeling your skin heat as your free hands lipped into your underwear and you touched yourself for real this time. 

“We think he's working under the same MO as the Night Stalker, like a copycat, so we're keeping to late hours. What's that sound?” 

“Nothing,” you said, giving your lie away almost immediately with a moan. 

“Are you… Y/N, are you touching yourself?” He asked, already knowing the answer. 

“I told you I missed you. It's been a month since you've touched me, someone has to do it-” 

“Stop it.” 

His words were blunt, and there was no hint of excitement in them, no telling if he was saying this so he could play a part in your unravelling. 

“What?” 

“Stop touching yourself. Y/N, you are not allowed to touch yourself.” 

“Not-? Spencer, what the fuck!” You exploded, sitting up from your comfortable position on the bed, set alight in indignance. 

“I'm the only one that gets to touch you like that, you're not allowed to cum unless I'm there,” he ground out, and just as you heard the smile in his voice earlier, you heard the frustration and arousal now. 

“Well, Spencer, if you'd have brought me along on this case instead of leaving me here, maybe you'd get a say in who gets to make me cum.” 

“Y/N, you're injured, and you haven't been cleared to fly. A doctor needs to-”

“You're a doctor. Technically. You could sign off on me. You could've had me right there in your bed tonight, but no.” 

He scoffed down the line, and you saw his face flash so vividly in your head that it pissed you off. He was hotter when he was angry. 

“Nice try. I tried that myself once, but it doesn't work. Now go to sleep and get some rest.” 

You opened your mouth to argue, but he hung up. His words lit a fire in the pit of your stomach, and you threw the phone down in frustration. 

He wasn't listening again, and you were sick of it, and you we're sick of pushing paper at a cubical when you should've been out in the field doing your actual job. You were sick of being celibate and at home alone, when you should've been in a dark corner somewhere letting your boss use your body, letting him pin you to the wall and work out his frustrations.  

You should've had your lips wrapped around his cock, you should've had his hands buried in your cunt, slapping your ass, his teeth teasing your nipples, something. 

Instead, you had your phone camera and a bed, and a personal vendetta against the word 'no' coming from Spencer Reid's mouth. If he wanted you to stop touching yourself, he'd better get his ass home and make you. 

Shedding your clothes, you set up your camera and began your week long crusade. 

The first video received a response in the form of a call you let go straight to voice mail as you recorded the second one. 

He didn't call again after that, but you knew he watched each and every video you sent. 

You knew he watched the video of you fucking yourself on a wall mounted dildo in the shower. You wondered if he let him imagine it was him, taking his cock in hand in the morning as he washed and prepared himself for the day. 

You knew he watched the video of you playing with your boobs alone in the elevator at work after hours. You wondered if he was still working late when he saw that one, or if, like last time, maybe Luke had grabbed his phone first and seen it before him. . 

You knew he watched the video you shot in his apartment. It wasn't that hard to get into, knowing exactly where the spare key was hidden and letting yourself in comfortably. You let yourself dress in one of his shirts and set the camera up, pushing a bullet vibe inside yourself, and turning on the camera, playing with the hem of the shirt and the sheets below until you finally flashed the camera and him the sight of your wet cunt. 

You filmed a few videos there, fingering yourself, spreading yourself so he could see just how far you'd opened yourself up for him, sinking down on to progressively bigger silicone cocks and mumbling his name over and over again. 

You knew he watched every video, even though you'd sent ten over the space of an evening. You knew he was likely somewhere stroking his large, hot cock, wishing he was buried deep in you, but too stubborn to let you know that now. 

The day after the case ended, you knew that his return meant punishment, but you couldn't stop yourself. 

An hour before the teams expected arrival time, you excused yourself to Spencer's office. The first time he'd fucked you had been in there. He'd pushed you over his lap and slapped some sense into you, spanking you until you were a drippy mess waiting for his cock to enter you sharp and fast. 

You'd since sucked his cock under the desk more times than you could count, and the view from the window was more than familiar to you as you enjoyed being pushed up against it as he took you from behind, the both of you revelling in the fact that anyone could see you defiling the building together. 

With half an hour to spare before he returned and ended your fun and games, you mounted the arm of his couch and began rubbing yourself against it. You rocked your hips slowly back and forth against it - as horny as you were, it was still embarrassing to be so horny you'd resulted to humping pieces of furniture to meet your needs. 

You'd thought about getting drunk and finding a random dick to take home with you, but it didn't interest you half so much as fucking with Spencer Reid did. You'd never had the talk about exclusivity, but you knew just as well as he did that you were locked in. He was your boyfriend, whether he realised it or not.

And now, you simply needed his cock so badly, nothing else would do. The closest you could get was a piece of furniture he'd fucked you on before. 

You slipped your panties off quickly as your timer sounded a ten minute warning, knowing his plane would be landing any second now. You'd factored in the walk from the jet to the office, praying to the gods above that he took the initiative to get ahead on paperwork instead of going straight home. 

You rocked back and forth on the arm of the couch until his door opened narrowly and he let himself in, just as your clit rubbed the corner of the couch and you moaned out gloriously. 

“Y/N,” he hissed as he slammed the door shut. You didn't stop even as he crossed the room and grabbed your hips, instead lunging for his lips and meeting them with your own. 

Your tongue clashed with him for the first time in a lifetime, and you whimpered at how good he still felt pressed up against you. His chest was a solid shield, and your puffy nipples pushed up against it, rubbing deliciously with each grind. His hands were large, his fingers long as they clawed themselves around your hips and drew you up.

“You just can't follow orders, can you?” He asked between kisses, between breaths where you weren't sure if he'd slap you or shove his fingers down your throat. “I should fire you,” he whispered as he reluctantly pulled away. 

“But Spencer,” you said, gasping jokingly as you pawed at the front of his pants. “Who would you fuck on cases then? Who would be your controversially young fuck doll?” 

You meant it to be a joke, but the slap he delivered to your ass made you think twice as you clapped a hand over your mouth. 

His hands roughly pulled you into him again, and you were unable to rise up enough again before he hit you again. You jilted forwards with a little moan and just gave in to the sensation, pressing your face into the pillows as your hips rose. 

“You're acting like such a desperate little slut, I don't think you deserve to even lick my cock. Fuck, I don't even think you deserve to lick my shoe,” his words cut deep as you realised how angry he was, his fingers tangling in your hair he yanked you upwards. 

“Wait, please - Spencer, please, I need-” 

“Need what? You need to suck cock? You need to put yourself on display in a public place? Need everyone around you to know just what it is we do when we're alone?” With each question, he worked on bruising your ass cheeks harder, until he finally pushed you to the floor, and you sank down, automatically spreading your legs for him. 

“Pathetic. You don't deserve this cock, baby.” 

“No!” You cried out, not willing to accept that outcome at all as you panicked. “I'll do anything, please, Spencer, I'll do anything!” 

You whimpered and cried out in real frustration and fear, knowing that he absolutely would kick you out if you didn't act fast. Spencer may have been fine with you taking control some days, but this obviously wasn't one of them. You sat yourself on your knees and clasped your hands together, attempting to seem half the serious devotee and half the irresistible vixen whose chest was accentuated by the movement.

“Okay. Show me just how much of a desperate slut you are,” he said, lifting his foot from the ground and nudging it between your thighs. 

Reluctantly, you widened your stance, spreading apart just enough for him to notch his shoe against your clothed pussy. 

“Ride my shoe, Y/N. You're such a good little boot-licker. It shouldn't be a problem, right?” As if to answer your own question for you, he bobbed his knee gently, and your clit ground into the edge of his shoelaces, causing a sharp, fast burst of pleasure to spark through you. 

You still were too shocked to answer, but he smoothed your hair from your eyes as he continued to bounce his foot, and you left all of your concerns behind, slowly grinding down. 

“What a dirty little slut, I didn't think you'd actually do it.”

Wrapping your arms around his leg, you pressed your hips up and down hesitantly, looking into his eyes as your mouth dropped open in a silent moan. 

“That's it, good girl,” he said, letting his leg go still as you did all the work, shaking your hips back and forth on his shoe as you gave him pleading looks, unable to form words for the overwhelming shame and embarrassment.  

“You look like a puppy,” he blurted out, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling it back, hard, exposing your throat to him as he watched you with curious eyes. “Like one of those puppies who gets so excited to see you, she starts humping you. So fucking horny and desperate. You wouldn't even care who was in the room with us, right now, would you? You'd just keep going until yiu came.” 

You gasped as he slapped your face, tongue falling out of your mouth as he inspected his little play puppy. He smiled, as if happy with your reactions, and leant back on the sofa, releasing your hair from his grip as you continued to struggle in vain toward your orgasm. 

It was another two or three seconds before you realised he was pulling his hard cock from his pants, and another moment or two before he slid his hands back into your hair and guided your dumb, stupid, wet mouth over the top of his cock quickly. 

You let him move your head just how he liked, let him push you down almost farther than you thought you could go. You ground your bare clit down into his shoe as you deepened your breaths, relaxing your body as you took inch after inch of his cock down your throat. 

His hands were wound so tight in your hair that there wasn't space to move. You gagged, once and twice, but he held you in place still, enjoying the spit that spluttered around the base of his cock, the spasms of your contracting throat against the tip and length of his cock. You breathed deeply, ignoring the feeling of his pubic hair tickling your nose, scratching your cheek as you flattened out your tongue under his cock. You wished he would move, wished he would give you the space you needed to cum faster. 

The desperation of the last few months built up and built up, and you knew that you were close to cumming, your hips rocking out of tempo now, crashing into his foot wildly, ass shaking as you felt his shoelaces rubbing uncomfortably against your thighs. 

“God, what a pathetic little bitch, are you going to cum? Cum on my shoe, whore, show me how fucking desperate you are.” 

You felt the exact moment your body convulsed against him, you knew the exact movement that made you cum, because you felt the flood of moisture pool underneath you as you squirted all over his floor. You made a note of reminding him to replace the rug before Emily returned. 

Your whole body shook as you sat in the pool of your own cum, but he refused to let you pull away. 

“Has my little puppy made a mess? What a shame. You can't stop yet, though.” 

His grip on your face somehow became stronger, though not unpleasant, as he pulled your head up the length of his cock. You spluttered slightly, feeling the tension slip out of you as he emptied your throat. You didn't have more than a second to react before he quickly snapped your head back down over his cock, down to the base of his dick. 

“Keep up, Y/N, this is what you wanted, remember.” 

You choked on his cock, and he smiled down at you, taking your gags for nods as he proceeded to fuck your throat, deep and hard. 

“So wet and warm for me, like a perfect little pet,” he said, hips already lifting off the couch as he tried to sink deeper into you. 

You knew from experience that he'd soon grow tired of the limits of your mouth. He liked to hear you. He liked to see you drooling rather than feel it on his skin. As much as he could force his cock down your throat - and you deeply enjoyed when he did - he could get deeper if he sank into your pussy and you both knew it. 

This part was just to lube his cock up, nice and wet, until he could take you nice and quick without having to touch your pussy. He needed you nice and wet and ready for him, especially on days like today where you'd been nothing but a cock tease in need of a harsh fucking. You deserved nothing more.

As predicted, he pulled your head off his cock after a few seconds and hauled you to your feet. You tried to climb onto him, to grip his cock in your hand and just sink down where you belonged, but he stood, too, lifting you up with him. 

“Window,” he said, and you knew he must be close if he was ordering you around one word at a time. You nodded, but he kept his hands on you, moving you to the window quickly. 

You knew he'd bend you over, take you against the outdoor window, whispering in your ear that anyone outside could see you if they just looked up. Instead, this time, he moved you to the opposite side of the office. The window he pressed you against was the one overlooking your desks, the one where, should he happen to open the blinds, every member of your team would be able to look up and watch you take his dick. 

“Everyone left,” he whispered quickly as he shifted the blinds up an inch so you could see. 

You breathed a sigh of relief noting that it was as empty as he claimed, but it didn't last long as he gently pressed his cock into your cunt, finally filling you how you'd needed to be filled for the last 60 days. 

“Fuck, t-thank you, sir!” 

All thoughts about the office below faded as he lifted your leg in his hand and let it rest on the edge of the window, pushing your face against the cold glass. Your office may have been empty, but that wasn't to say that there wasn't someone working late in the other departments, a janitor happening to pass through. 

You knew, but you didn't care as you begged him to fill you up more and more. 

“Just like that, just like that, yes!!! Fuck yes, Spencer I missed this, I missed you. Missed you so much,” you moaned as your hands slipped down the glass, already fogged with condensation, your hot breath hitting the cold glass. 

“Needed this? You've been fucking yourself nightly for the last week. You didn't need this like I needed this,” he moaned, biting into your neck with a sharp kiss as you moaned loudly for him.

“Two m-months. You haven't fucked me for two months, what else was I supposed to do?” 

He groaned in your ear again, reaching a hand around you and slapping your clit as he formulated an answer. 

“Rest, you were supposed to rest,” he said, thrusts speeding up as your cunt gripped him tighter and tighter the closer you got to your second orgasm. 

He groaned and pressed your face into the glass, holding you there and screwing his eyes shut as you both chased release. 

“I didn't want to rest, I w-wanted to be by your side.” 

His head rested against your shoulder as he felt the last waves of pleasure race towards him. His hand pushed down to your clit and rubbed you, sending you right over the edge with him as he filled you with his cum. 

Neither of you could stay upright, collapsing down to the floor in a heap. Usually when he came inside you, he waited a few moments to pull out so he didn't make so much mess when he did. But in his exhaustion, in your shared bliss of finally reaching that precipice after so long, he slipped out early, as cum was still shooting from him. 

You heaped together on the floor, chests heaving as you lay on top of him, your peace only broken by a single thought. 

“We..-’ you gasped, breathing unsteady. “We need to deep clean this office before Emily comes back.” 

He looked down at you, a look so serious and shocked you wondered if he was angry. And then he laughed. Short and soft, he giggled, and you couldn't help but join in, wrapping your arms around your stomach as it began to hurt, chest heaving from the pain of all your joy. 

He sat up and gave you a hand up as well as you surveyed the damage. 

“The rug has to go,” you said, feeling hot and embarrassed as you noticed the new wet stain on the near offensive fluffy thing. 

“We should probably get some new throw pillows, too,” he remarked, and you nodded with a grimace. You made to stand up, but your legs felt weak, and you wobbled, but he was there to catch you, as he stood. 

"Maybe just a new couch," you muttered, flushed with heat as you remembered how you'd humped the arm rest not even twenty minutes ago.

He closed the blinds before moving back to the couch and sitting you down on his lap once again, such a familiar place for you to be these days.

“You….” He started, worrying g his bottom lip with his teeth. “You really missed me?” 

You startled, taken aback by the question. You thought the videos had made it clear, let alone the last half hour of intimacy. 

“I… Yes, Spencer. I missed you a lot. I always miss you.” 

“You… you do?” 

You nodded again and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. 

“Y/N, when I am no longer your boss, in approximately a weeks time, would you possibly consider being my girlfriend?” 

For the second time in the last two minutes, the man had you floored. And perhaps a little bit angry.

“I'm not… I'm not your girlfriend now?” 

“Hmm? Oh, I-” 

“Because I already told my friends about you, and I was definitely saying the word boyfriend, but if that's not what this is, I can correc-” 

You saw the panicked look in his eye as he pulled you in for one last kiss. 

“That's what this is!” he said frantically, cutting you off when you opened your mouth with another kiss. “I thought you wouldn't think that this was- no!” He kissed you again as you tried again to speak. 

“Listen to me! I'm o-older than you, I thought I had to ask still. Do people not ask anymore?” He kissed you before you could answer. 

“Rhetorical question.”

“I love yo-” you attempted to confess, but his lips covered yours swiftly, even as his eyes opened wide when he pulled away. 

“Wait, no, say that again,” he begged, eyes weak and shiny and absolutely endearingly pathetic. 

You shook your head and sealed your lips, miming, zipping them shut and throwing away the key. 

“Y/N! Tell me again, tell me you love me again,” he said, kissing each of your cheeks. You poked his chest hard, and he kissed you once more. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, and kissed you again, trying to draw from your lips the words he had cut off earlier, losing himself in the pleasure of the moment as you sat together in the dark office, totally enamoured with one another. 

[httpsserene]

I have been having SUCH a thought since the Thigh Riding, and I NEED to tell you.

We know reader has been loving Max and Charles’ thighs, but have you seen those silicone thigh toys? They’re basically ridged pads you strap to your thigh and…well you can guess what they do with them.

I just- I feel like it would elevate it, their sweet girl opening up to the world of toys whilst in the comfort of something she loved.

𝐡𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞 | 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐬 | 𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞: 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞

summary: all my (terrified and oversensitive) homies hate vibrators!! max and charles introduce you to something better.  content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. vibrators. thigh riding. sex toys. non-penetrative sex. edging. praise kink. corruption kink. dom/sub undertones. coming untouched. sub!charles. sub!reader. dom!max. pairing: max verstappen x charles leclerc x fem!black!reader word count: 2.4k words.

author’s notes: this is from december 2023, jesus christ. about fucking time right, @vetteltea? this has been haunting me in my sleep ever since this hit my inbox, now it’s y’all’s problem too < 333 psss, next post will either be toasty part two (toto) or a smau xxx

(if you’re unsure about what these specific thigh toys are, don’t worry, i would link an example but idk if that would get me put in tblr jail and i’m on thin ice with my mentions, tags, and even dms not working :| look up “grinding pad sex toy” to get an idea of what i’m referencing in this fic. )

prev | join taglist | feedback & requests | track limits | table of contents ↻

You’ve deeply repressed the memory of your orgasm-deprived outburst that kick started your sexual exploration with Max and Charles. Vaguely, you can remember saying that you possibly considered the thought of buying a vibrator to get yourself off since riding your pillow wasn’t enough anymore.

[…you’ve become depraved enough to consider buying a vibrator, but all packages delivered to this apartment have to be approved by max or charles to be sent up, and you’re definitely not bold enough to go out and buy one (and risk being seen by one of their fans or have to physically talk to someone to buy one)...]

[…you seem to have missed the fact that you sent their minds reeling and continue venting, “i don’t know what to do, maxy!  i’ve been doing the same thing, and it’s NEVER failed me before. it’s cruel that it stopped working when you guys left me for more than a month! no matter how i did it–if i did the exact same things i’ve always been doing, or tried something new, nothing worked! i was literally just considering buying a fucking vibrator! a vibrator, charles, i’d rather run naked in the street than buy that online and have to put in this delivery address–”

charles gently presses finger against your mouth, shushing you. he pulls you into a deep hug, rubbing a hand up and down the length of your back , the motion pacifying you. he hums, and it vibrates through his chest to yours, “mmm, we’re home now, mon ange. there’s no need to run in the streets naked–” “definitely not,” max jumps in, reacting possessively at the implication of other people seeing you undressed. charles rolls his eyes and continues (like he’s not just as jealous as max), “or buy a vibrator. i know it must be so frustrating…”]

Charles was right. You didn’t have to go streaking or buy a sex toy to get off, your boyfriends took care of you. That night, you were satisfied by riding Max’s thigh. Then a few days later, you learned how to pleasure your men with handjobs. A couple of days after that you were fingerfucked into an altered mental state, then followed up with watching Charles cum untouched as Max ate him out. You had Max’s mouth on you next and weeks later in a Spanish villa, you allowed them to take your virginity.

The five days you three spent in that villa were filled with pleasure, as Max and Charles fulfilled every request of yours without question. In bed, on the sofa, from the kitchen floor to the dining table, from the hot tub to the bathroom shower, horizontally, vertically, parabolically, from dusk to dawn—the two years of relationship you had without sexual intimacy had been put to rest. The understanding, the vulnerability, and the trust rooted within everyone had led to that moment. It was worth it.

So, one would understand your confusion when Max drops the idea of sex toys in conversation with you and Charles on a random morning. With an audible noise of confusion, you tilt your head up at him adorably, and genuinely question, “Why would I use a toy when I have you two?” Your tummy tightened when that sentence caused Charles to look at you with dripping molten eyes and Max’s mumbled grumble about corrupting your innocence goes unheard. Minutes later, you were bent over the kitchen island, the skirt of your sundress shoved up around your waist, and your white panties dangling off of one ankle as they took turns eating you out. Needless to say, you forgot about the subject of conversation the moment they knocked your legs open.

Eventually, they do manage to have a chat about toys without it devolving into sex. 

“Schat,” Max grabbed your attention, the clink of his silverware resting on his plate further interrupted your focus on spinning pasta onto your fork.

“Yes, Maxy?” you responded, meeting his eyes with a smile.

“After this discussion, we will never bring this up again if you are adamantly against the idea,” you brought your fork to your lips, munching away with a look of puzzlement, the Dutchman continued, “But, Charlie and I were talking…and we think, that—with your approval, of course—that there’s a chance you may enjoy experiencing and learning about sex toys, and how good they can make you feel. As long as either one of us is using them on you—and, with your hatred of them—they’re also not vibrators.”

You choked on your pasta, Charles making a noise of surprise as he rushed forward to pat you on the back.

Airways now cleared, you looked at Max with watery eyes, “There was not enough foreshadowing to let me know where the conversation was going. And, fuck vibrators. They are way too strong.”

The Monegasque’s eyes brightened with humor, “Hm. I think vibrators are nice, especially when they’re in Max’s hand.”

“You’re a menace and a freak,” the older man responded, “And she’s chronically sensitive. Don’t tease.”

Charles tugged at one of your curls, chuckling as he saw the brown skin of your cheeks redden.

“I mean,” you paused to play fight with your boyfriend, batting his hand from your hair cutely, “You guys haven’t been wrong with anything you’ve introduced me to. If you think that I might enjoy something…I guess I can try it. And, you’ll stop if I tell you to, right?”

“Always, mon ange.” “Of course, liefje.”

“Okay, then. I just don’t think there’s a toy that I’ll like?”

A smirk spread across Max’s lips when he glanced over at Charles, like they knew something you didn’t. His blue eyes were alight with humor as they looked back at you, “Let us worry about that.”

You did such a good job of letting your boyfriends “worry about sex toys” that you ended up forgetting the conversation happened. Until tonight, when you walked into your bedroom to see Charles on the bed completely naked, save for—what appears to be, a pink silicone pad strapped around his tanned, muscular thigh.

You freeze in the doorway, mouth parted, struggling to process the sight in front of you. The brunette is ruined. His hair is damp with sweat, strands of curls stuck to his forehead, and green eyes moist with dried tear tracks painting the ruddiness of his cheeks. His lips are bitten red, swollen, and moist with his spit—Max’s too. The bruises start on his collarbone, deep red marks brush along his clavicle and pecs, and there are visible imprints of teeth around his right nipple. Traces of Max’s unforgiving grip are painted on his waist, thumbprints obvious to your eyes. His cock looks painful; burning red, twitching randomly, the vein on his underside raised, and precome has been leaking out of his tip for a while if the puddle by the base is any telling. 

Employing his skill for perfect timing, the en-suite door opens, and Max steps into the room with a bottle of lube in his hand. 

“Charlie?” Max coos, walking over to the delirious man, pouting sympathetically when the brunette’s head falls forward to rest on his hip, ruffling his hair and scratching along his scalp. “Aren’t you going to thank our pretty girl for putting an end to your torture?”

“–rci, merci,” the exhausted man mumbles messily. Max hums in content, dropping the lube on the bed and gesturing for you to come closer. Tripping over your feet in haste to follow his order, you ask softly, “How long have you had him like this?”

“Around forty-five minutes,” Max shrugs, dismissively, “He was getting too excited as we waited for you to join us.”

Swallowing shakily, you inquire, “Excited about what?

“Your new sex toy.” 

You gasp and Max’s eyes flutter across your face as he gages your reaction. Max sees you shift on your feet and casts look downward; your thighs are pressed together for friction—you’re aroused.

“Do you want to try it?”

“Yes, Max.”

The Dutchman smiles at you, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind your ear, and leans forward to press a multitude of chaste kisses on your lips, laughing lowly when you whine with displeasure as he ignores your attempts to deepen them. “You’re being so brave for me. Take your clothes off, pretty girl.”

Bare in the blink of an eye, you look at your older boyfriend for his next direction.

“Our Charlie,” Max starts, helping the fucked-out man sit up straight, “Has been so kind to volunteer his thigh to you. Strapped around it,” he pauses to slap his hand down beneath the toy, smirking at Charles’ delayed yelp, and squeezing the meat of his muscle warmly, “Is a ridged silicone pad designed to simulate the vulva and clit as you grind. The waves and spikes of silicone are malleable and soft,” Max drags his finger across them demonstratively, “and are smooth and bouncy as you slide across it, allowing for a continuous rubbing sensation—I did my research.”

Giggling nervously as your eyes flicker between Charles’ cock and the daunting pink slab of plastic, “I can tell. Um—I just ride it like it’s his thigh?”

Max nods and offers you his hand for stability as you move to straddle the pad. Charles blinks, raising trembling hands to rest on your hips, staring at you with hazy eyes. You sigh, tangling your hand in the nape of his hair and using it to pull him forward into a kiss. His lips are clumsy but eager as they move against yours, whimpers muffled into your mouth and beard scratching along your chin. He tries to tug you downwards to have you firmly sit on the pad but is halted by Max.

“Greedy, both of you,” Max snorts, picking up the forgotten bottle of lube and uncapping it to lightly drizzle some on the toy's surface, “I know you get wetter than the ocean but, better safe than sorry.”

He pats you on the ass in encouragement, and you shake your head with shame as you lower yourself down on the silicone, draping your arms around Charles’ shoulders and pausing to acquaint yourself with the new feeling. The chill of the lube startles you but aside from that, the toy is…comfortable. The raised hump sits perfectly against the curvature of your cunt and already, you’re anticipating the focused stimulation it will provide. 

Max sits behind Charles and the bed sinks under his weight, barely jostling the Monegasque’s thigh. However, it’s enough of a movement that it causes one of the soft spikes to clip your clit, pushing a quiet noise of surprise from your lips.

“Oh,” you murmur airily.

Trying to hide the quirk of his lips, Max leans forward to whisper directly into Charles’ ear, “This seems awfully familiar to the first time she rode my thigh, no?”

You whimper audibly, knowing that he purposefully spoke loud enough for you to hear his words. Refusing to fixate on Charles’ reply, you circle your hips, breath catching as the various textures set your nerves ablaze. You understand that Max added the lube to prevent any unwanted roughness—it’s rendered unnecessary as your arousal starts to leak. Digging your nails into the younger man’s back, you rock your hips back and forth slowly, moaning freely as the waves are a consistent friction against your labia. 

“It’s–fuck—i-it’s good.”

“Stuttering already,” Max tuts, and you feel the heat in your cheeks radiate down to your bouncing chest. Your rhythm roughens; dragging yourself along the toys in desperation, toes curling at every random press of the spikes against your outer lips and clit. Charles gasps in relief, your quickened pace causing his cock to bounce and rub against his abdomen in his puddle of precome. He gets lucky on every few grinds when you undulate forwards and his cock bounces to glide against your navel. His hands grip firmly around your hips and shove them into a jerkier motion, keeping you close to him so his reddened length can be soothed against your skin constantly. 

The change in angle and position has caused the spikes to form a barrage around your clit and the waves drag over your entrance, teasing you with the feeling of being opened up. Dropping your head to hide your face in Charles’ neck, you muffle your pitchy moans and shrieks by tasting the sweat beading on his skin.

“I’m jealous, schatje,” Max speaks, “I almost want to pull her off of your thigh and have her sit on my face.”

Fresh tears spill from Charles’ eyes as he begs, “N-no-no—mmmph—please, ‘m close.”

Your hips start to rabbit against the toy, and the texture between your legs is overwhelming but too pleasurable to consider slowing. 

Max yanks Charles’ head backward with a fist in his hair, “Do you want to cum, Charlie?”

The man in question babbles incoherently, chest trembling from lack of oxygen as he continues to sob; he tries to nod, but can’t, thanks to Max’s firm grip. The burning of his scalp doesn’t subdue him, it encourages him to keep tugging so the pain floods endorphins through his body. 

“You know what to say,” Max states calmly, the words sending shivers down your spine. Your own body starts to tingle as you taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue; you’re too delighted at the new sensations to let any embarrassment build from reaching the edge quickly.

Charles struggles to get his tongue, lips, and vocal cords to cooperate. You see a frantic look light in his eyes, sure he’s trying to puzzle out what language he’s sane enough to communicate in. He manages to verbalize sounds that could be likened to Max’s name if you brush past his whimpers and cries.

“Plea–,” Charles tries to push the word out pitifully, “—ah, sss'il te pla—” his cock bumps against your navel, and his words cut off, eyes rolling back before he can finish begging.

A humorous laugh leaves Max; this is the easiest way Max has ever made the younger man lose his speech. He softens, and gives into the pillow prince, “You did so good, Charlie. You tried your hardest for me, yeah? You begged so prettily tonight, almost as pretty as you look. Such a good boy, Charles. You can cum.”

Strikingly, the approval works for both you and Charles. Twin cries of pleasure erupt as your orgasms blur your vision and burn through your muscles. The feeling of Charles’s cum splattering against your stomach sends another burst of light through your skin as you continue to grind fitfully on the silicone pad. A lake of wetness puddled on the poor man’s thigh, that squelches as you move. 

Charles is rendered silent as his cock continues to pulse even when the flow of his release ceases. Max brings his hand down to squeeze at his base and Charles releases a choppy scream as it pushes another couple of ribbons out of him. His hips thrust upwards with every string, forcing hisses of over sensitivity to slip from you as it drags the soaked pad against your cunt. You would happily crawl off his thigh, but you haven’t regained feeling in your legs yet. 

Thankfully, Charles deflates back into Max, his cock finally softening and slowly losing some of its flush. Tears start to leak from his eyes again, his chest shuddering through little sobs. You whimper softly at his tears and Max pulls you both to rest comfortably in the bed, as he shushes you two through the comedown. When the tears, shivers, and shakes halt, a pleased tilt of lips rises to Charles's face as his eyes dance between you and Max. 

The Dutchman unclips the toy from Charles’s thigh and smirks at the wet peeling noise that sounds.

“So…I assume this toy has your approval?”

© httpsserene2023

[galacticgraffiti]

✿⋅ Oh, to be Alone with You ⋅✿

NSFW ⋆ 18+ ⋆ Minors DNI

Rating: Explicit Wordcount: 2.6k Descriptors: I try my best to write inclusively. Reader uses she/her pronouns and is mentioned in her physicality but not described in detail. If anything escaped me, please let me know! Sorry I couldn't make this more gender neutral, but since this fic is a gift to @naariel I thought I'd use her pronouns. Warnings: dirty daydreams, yearning, lusting after someone, male masturbation, dirty talk, fantasy of PiV sex within the daydream, bath sex, this is written from Halsin's POV

⋆⋅ Inspired by this insane artwork by @naariel ⋅⋆

Author's note: I've been pondering, rotating and marinating this artwork in my mind for WEEKS. It haunts me in the best possible way and I am so happy Naariel gave me permission to reference her art! If you are not already following her, you definitely should - her skill and talent are infinite.

Masterlist ⋆ If you prefer AO3

───── ⋆⋅✿⋅⋆ ─────

Oh, to be Alone with You

Halsin sighs when he finally sits down, long limbs sprawling on the too-small chair that can barely contain him.

Chairs. What superfluous oddities, where a big tree stump might have sufficed. If one has to make them at all, why not at least make them comfortable? Why not sit in the meadows, why not find a place to lay where the sun has warmed a rock that has been washed and polished by the rain? But no, the rules of the city demand he be contained within four walls instead of roaming free, they demand he bathe in a wooden tub instead of out in the wilds, they demand he wear clothes and be polite to people even as they trample the Oak Father’s creations beneath their boots without even stopping to look and enjoy nature’s gifts.

Halsin shuts his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose to stave off the oncoming headache. It has been a long day and he is so tired. A long week. A long few weeks, if he is being honest with himself. In all these centuries, times have been- well-  rough, to say the least. But whatever haunts the Sword Coast now… it’s different. Bigger than the invasions of Goblins across the land, bigger than the Shadow druids, bigger even than the Shadow Curse that has occupied Halsin’s every waking hour for nigh on one hundred years.

At least, Thaniel and Oliver have been reunited, some life returning to the lands as it always should have been. A victory, chased for so long, tasting sweet only for a moment before the stale urgency of the matter at hand had seeped back into Halsin’s mind: Mindflayers infecting innocents, magic-infused tadpoles, an Elder Brain… There are too many battles to be fought, and not one of them to be won.

Halsin presses his lips together and tries to banish the dark thoughts from his mind. There are some good things that have come out of this: They have not lost a fight yet, and his newfound companions are… stimulating, to say the least. Fighting alongside them has been a joy and a privilege - watching their blades sear, their magic erupt, their arrows pierce their targets as the bear Halsin rips through flesh and bone. The fighting is necessary, and his companions are more skilled than he could have ever wished for. This day may have been hard, but it was successful nonetheless, and now he is here, freshly bathed and ready to find some rest for the night. If only it could be under the stars, far outside the city walls, he would almost call himself happy. Instead, he must bed down alone, encased by  too many walls and a too-small bed frame.

Halsin misses the smell of grass that has not been trampled by hundreds of boot-clad feet, he misses the feeling of bark against his fur, he misses his wildshape and trodding through calm forests instead of bloodied battlefields. He misses air that is crisp and clean and doesn't smell of artificially molten metals. He misses the Grove, he misses Thaniel and he misses the woods. The city has been forsaken by Silvanus, and even if this place is a small oasis of nature, it is not the same as being out among the Oak Father’s creations.

He cracks his neck, his hair tickling his collarbones. Halsin curses quietly to himself, pushing a curl behind his ear. He needs to cut his hair - it’s getting too long. And he needs to braid it again, his plaits are all out of sorts. It might be a hassle to do it without a mirror- but maybe he could ask-

No.

Shaking his head as if to will the thought away, he slumps into the discomfort of the chair a little more.

No, he shouldn't ask her anything. Nothing that would involve her hands on him, at least. Certainly not her fingers buried in his hair, tugging softly, her voice gently commanding that he tilt his head a different way. He can’t ask for that. It would only lead to him asking for more:

More of her hands on him, more of her skin against his, more than innocent touches and whispered goodnights across the campfire. He would ask for everything: To bury himself inside her until the world fades away, to devour her until she is slick with sweat from the pleasure he brings her. To be the keeper of her heart, just as he yearns for her to be the keeper of his.

Halsin can feel the familiar tightness in his back as the golden shimmer of his wildshape travels up to his shoulder blades. One thought of her, and already the bear stirs.

He remembers everything that happened today, even as he tries so hard to think of something else:

He remembers the way she smells, of sweet berries, blood and leather. He remembers her looking up at him, as her fingers clutch her weapon tightly. He remembers the fire in her eyes after the slaughter, the glow in her cheeks when she turned around to look at him and found only the bear. He remembers how she smiled at him, even after all that violence, a smile like the sinking sun, bloodied and red, but more beautiful than he could ever have dreamed up.

And as the day progressed: Her arm bumping into his, her head tilting up when she asked him a question and wanted to read his expression. How her hands slipped around him to reach for some food at the campfire earlier when they rested. Her sweet breath on his face and a mumbled excuse when she walked into him, still drowsy with sleep. And all Halsin wanted to do was pull her into his lap and bury his nose in the crook of her neck and forget about the world, forget about everyone watching, and have her, right then, in that moment. Have her all to himself, make her his very own. To feel her around him, to show her the depth of his affection, the desperation of his desire, the magnitude of his commitment.

All he wanted in that moment - all he still wants - is to touch her, to feel her in ways that he cannot ask for because he is scared she will not want the same thing he does. Halsin wants to lick the sweat off her skin, he wants to be buried between her thighs whenever they can steal away, even for a few minutes, he wants her taste on his tongue when he fights, and to wrap himself around her when they sleep.

The force of his own thoughts makes Halsin shudder, glowing desire stirring deep in his belly.

Her tongue in his mouth, his hands on her skin: How soft she would be against him. How wonderful to hear her voice break when she cries out for him, how she would taste if he could lick her off his fingers, the honey of her thighs, the salt of her sweat. He would give anything to know the expression on her face when she is lost to mindless bliss- he would give everything to know that he is the cause of it.

A low moan escapes his throat then, and Halsin presses his lips together when his mind returns from memory and sweet imagination to this house in the midst of a bustling city. This is not nature, where he can do what pleases him when it pleases him. No, the city - ‘civilisation’ as they call it - comes with rules, expectations, limitations.

He is in someone else’s home, exhausted from the day, the blood barely washed off his skin. And yet, all he can think about is… her. All he can feel is the constriction of his clothing, the confinement of leather where he longs to be touched. He wants to shed like the bear sheds his fur after the winter, he wants to feel free again.

Halsin hums, breathing deeply, willing away the golden sparks of his wildshape that dance along his fingertips. He listens intently, fingers dancing across his thighs, drumming an impatient rhythm.

Nothing in the house stirs. Maybe they are all gone still, running their errands, finding bath houses, visiting old friends and merchants they used to know before they return here for a long night’s rest. Maybe Halsin can have a small pocket of time to himself. Time to dream himself away, to give in to the desire he has harboured for so long.

Maybe… he could use this opportunity to release some of that tension that has settled deep in his belly. Refocus his attention. Maybe it’ll be for the best- not to think of her constantly anymore, not of her smell, or the colour of her eyes, of the way her fingers linger on his for a moment too long whenever they touch, or how much he wished they could have bathed together when he sank into the tub earlier that night.

The city has many downsides, but baths are one of the few things to enjoy. Hot springs are wonderful, but few and far between. Nature provides: The bear does not mind the coldness of a stream in the woods, or the iciness of a mountain lake. But there is nothing like a steaming bath to help prevent the sore ache that settles in his bones after a fight.

If only it was acceptable to ask her if she would join him. If only it had been her hands washing dirt and grime and blood from his skin, brushing his hair, kneading tired muscles, her hands much smaller than his, but strong and determined. Loving.

Halsin lets his head fall back, spine cracking as he settles in the small, uncomfortable chair, spreading his legs to cup his hardening cock. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine it…

She glistens in the dim light, thin streams of water trickling down her skin when she emerges from the bath, her lashes stuck together as she beams at him.

“Mhh, we should have done this ages ago!”

“I could not agree more, my heart.” Halsin loves seeing her like this. She looks happy, like she has not a care in the world.

She crawls up into his lap, settling on him, her thighs bracketing his. Her hands run across his chest, lathering him in soap that smells of lavender and thyme. Halsin’s heart is beating in his throat when she leans in to kiss his collarbone, her lips soft, her hair smelling of smoke and flowers as it always does.

Desire surges inside him, crackling like lightning in his veins, and he sends the bear away, far away. This is a moment he wants for himself: Skin against skin, tongues exploring, hands intertwined. This is no place for fangs and claws, not tonight. Halsin unlaces his trousers with steady fingers, though even those few seconds seem unbearable to him. When his hand finally wraps around his cock, he breathes a sigh of relief, only to feel dissatisfied moments after. He wants her hands, her eyes on him, her voice dripping with lust. For now, his imagination will have to do.

He dreams himself back to the bath, thinking of all he could have had, if he had only had the courage to ask.

Her skin is burning hot against his, her fingers leave a flaming trail wherever she touches him.

“Is this alright, my love?” Her voice is full of concern and affection, as it always is when she asks about his comfort and well-being.

“More than alright.” Halsin’s breaths grow shaky when she moves her hips, shallowly grinding down against him. “Gods, I want to-”

“Mhhm?” There is a curious twinkle in her eye. “What is it you want? Tell me. I’m sure I could make your dreams come true.”

Halsin shifts when the wooden backing of the chair digs into his back as he bucks his hips, fucking into his hand that is wrapped around his cock - a poor substitution for what - for who - he really wants.

A growl rings out in the empty room when he closes his eyes and imagines her again.

Her thighs look so lovely, spread wide so he can fit between them. She smells of the bath salts and of herself, and her voice talks to him through the thick fog of his desire.

“I know what you want, don’t I, bear? I’ll take such good care of you if you let me. I’ll make sure you don’t even have to ask for it. I’ll let you taste me, whenever you want- wherever you want. I’ll help you focus- you can focus on me, can’t you? There you go…”

Halsin is panting, his hand moving faster.

She feels good, so good when she sinks down on him, wet with arousal and so willing to take him.

“You, little flower, are the jewel of nature’s creation,” he mumbles. “You are all I could ever want and more. I want to taste you on my tongue, always- for there to never be a day where I won’t know the way you drip for me- for you to never go a day without being satisfied, without feeling loved and cared for. Your happiness is all I want- your ecstasy all I desire. Let me take care of you.”

She moans, her head falling back as she starts to roll her hips, taking him deeper and deeper with each stroke.

“I’ll take care of you as you do of me,” she whispers. “I’ll make sure to provide for you all you could ever need or want. You give and give, let me give you everything I am in return. Be selfish, bear. Take what you want, swallow me whole, devour me without worrying whether it’s too much. I want you to. Mark me- make me yours. Tell the whole world I belong to you, whichever way you desire.”

Her movements are desperate now, her words only sighs and moans, breathless as she buries her head against his shoulder. Halsin inhales the scent of her hair, sinks into her words as the fog of lust that has settled on his brain grows thicker and heavier, until there is not a thought left on his mind but her.

“Halsin-” Gods, his name sounds so sweet off her tongue. “Halsin, I want you to fill me. Please- please, I want to feel full with you, today and every day you’ll fucking let me. I want to fight knowing you are still dripping down my thighs, I want to kiss you under the stars and know I’ll never be without you again.”

The curses that are falling from his lips are ungodly, but Halsin does not care. He is desperate now, mouth open as he calls her name and thinks of the words he wishes he could hear her say.

“Come for me, bear. Come inside me, lay claim to me as only you ever could- f-fuck- make me yours- please- Halsin, I’m yours, I’m yours and yours and yours, as long as you’ll have me- forever if you want to-”

With a cry of her name on his lips, Halsin gives in to pleasure and lets himself be overtaken by a wave of bliss. His thighs tremble as he spills over his hand, sticky warmth dripping from his fingers. He does not open his eyes. Not yet. He wants to stay in the fantasy just a moment longer.

“Halsin, I-”

His eyes open, blood rushing to his cheeks as he returns to the real world and finds her standing in the doorway.

I'm going fucking feral. Running into the woods hoping to find him there, who's with me -

@purgetrooperfox @ashotofspotchka @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @ulchabhangorm @queen--kenobi @samspenandsword @rescuethewretched @pinkiemme @baba-fett @witchklng @ladykatakuri @certified-anakinfucker @fanfiction-i-llike @voidinfernal @foxferret02 @rosieofcorona @savagemickey03 @perseny @margoisthemoon2 @shiiunn @saucyhedgehog @tonysoffice @pupshr00m @supercalifragilisticprincess @palpipeen @silly-gooseastarion @mila-bee @shit-i-say-throughout-the-day @idkwhatsgoingonwithme @aeryntheofficial @jekasha @gub @nogitsune-the @solarrexplosion @hexqueensupreme @unofficialavenger90 @frankiesghost @curtaincaramba

If you have signed up for my taglist and you are not on this list, I could not tag you. Check your settings and sign up again.

[littlexdeaths]

pushing up daisies - e.m.

kas eddie munson x fem reader

treat me bad like i’m no one's daughter,

body bag, baby, i’m a goner…

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: ANGSTTTTT, mentions of eddie’s death and the upside down, canon divergent (reader is chosen as vecna’s last victim instead of max), established relationship, soft!dom eddie, biting/blood drinking, lil bit of jealous eddie, public sex, unprotected piv sex, cream pie

based on love is a… by pvris

word count: 2.9k

a/n: this is honestly something i am so incredibly proud of, so i hope you all enjoy it. a big thank you to my babes @undead-supernova @strangerstilinski and @lokis-army-77 for helping me with parts of this fic, i love you all so much 💕

The sky was dark, storm clouds rolling in as you trudged through the rusted gates of Hawkin’s memorial cemetery.

Only the booming sounds of thunder and your labored breathing filled the morning air. Rain droplets poured steadily onto your head, dripping down the collar of your rain jacket. The clothing seemingly useless as the heavy rain soaked you to the bone.

The wild daisies clutched in your fist were beginning to wilt as your eyes scanned over the sea of headstones. Your throat tightens once you find his, now wishing that Dustin had been lying to you.

The words BURN IN HELL FREAK were still visible, despite the male’s best effort to clean them off the previous day. It had been less than a week since the funeral, but that was plenty of time for someone to vandalize his headstone. You hated this town.

Reaching the now desecrated grave you sigh, gently running your fingers along the top of the headstone. The rough edges scraped against your fingertips as you knelt down in front of it. Letting your hand fall into your lap, glancing down at the sad excuse of a bouquet in the other.

He deserved more than this… he deserved more than anything this shitty town had to offer.

“Hey Eds,” you whisper, despite the desolation surrounding you.

You carefully set the daisies onto the ground, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill past your waterline. The white of the flowers contrasted sharply against the dirt, which was quickly turning to mud beneath your knees. But you didn’t mind.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come to the funeral,” guilt laces your shaky voice as you tug your lower lip between your teeth. “I just… I couldn’t see you like that.”

Despite the feeble attempts that Dustin and Robin made to coax you out of bed that day, nothing was going to change your mind. You didn’t want to remember him that way, as you were already grappling with the image of him dying in Dustin’s arms.

A memory that haunts your dreams every night.

“I hope you can forgive me,” you mumble, reaching into your pocket to pull out his lucky set of dice. A sad smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you begin to place them along his headstone, “I brought a peace offering.”

A loud crack has your eyes flicking up, body jolting in surprise as a bolt of lightning strikes a tree in the distance. The impact splits the trunk down the middle, the wind picking up speed and taking your flowers with it.

The torn petals spread across the unkempt ground, the gesture now ruined. Just like everything else you touched.

You blame yourself for his death, knowing he would still be here if Vecna hadn't chosen you. You would live through a thousand years in a prison of your own mind, let that monster drain you of your entire existence— if it meant Eddie would have lived.

“It’s all my fault,” you don’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks, staring intently at the stone in front of you.

Edward Lee Munson, now at peace.

Those bold words stare back at you, mirroring the stone that sat just a few feet besides his. One you had become very familiar with over the years.

Elizabeth Ann Munson.

Beloved wife and mother, may she rest in peace.

While hers were more faded, they still brought you a small sense of comfort. Knowing that Eddie was with her now, he was safe. But that comfort wouldn’t heal the hole that had been punched through your chest.

“I miss you,” you hiccup, your tears steadily flowing now, the moisture beginning to blur your vision. “It w-wasn’t supposed to b-be you.”

Your soft cries soon morphed into pained sobbing, your shoulders hunched over as you dug your fists into the earth. You were grateful that Steve had let you come alone, not wanting anyone to see you like this.

In the short time that Eddie had been gone, you felt suffocated. With Vecna still alive and plotting, you were constantly being watched. Your friends not knowing if the demon, creature, whatever he was— would come back to claim you for good.

Part of you hoped for it, mentally pleaded to be taken away too. Because a life without Eddie, wasn’t a life you wanted to live.

A loud scream pierces the air, and it takes you a moment to realize the sound has come from you. Your chest heaves from the force of it, allowing your head to tilt back as your eyes slip shut. Enjoying how the rain soaks into your pores, washing away any trace of your tears.

You sit like that for a while, as the storm continues to wage on around you. Silently wishing that the rain would wash you away too. Dirt is caked under your fingernails, mud coated your shins and the hem of your skirt. You knew you couldn’t sit out here much longer, as your teeth started to chatter from the cold.

Your head falls forward, allowing yourself one last look at his headstone. The red paint has stained it horribly, tainting the last thing he had left in this world.

“I’ll come back tomorrow and clean this shit up, I promise.” You say, lifting up your pinky towards the block of stone. You hold it there for a moment before your hand falls back to your side.

“I love you, Eddie,” you sniffle, wiping your nose on your sleeve as you start to stand. Turning around as you begin to wipe the dirt from your knees.

As you take a step forward your shoe begins to sink into the wet soil, almost swallowing your foot whole. An annoyed huff leaves your lips as you try to pull it back out. But any attempt is stopped short as a cold hand wraps around your other ankle. A deep groan echoes in your ears as your eyes widen in fear.

This was it… Vecna’s come back for you.

While everything inside you begs you to run, your body remains frozen. Hyperventilating as the ground beneath you begins to shift, your feet sinking in deeper as another body fights its way out from the earth. A strained grunt of your name snaps you out of your petrified state, recognizing the voice immediately.

This was a cruel joke, knowing he was taking on Eddie’s form just to hurt you more. So you decided you wouldn’t stick around to witness it.

If you were going to die, it would be by his own hands.

“No!” You shout, yanking your ankle out of that icy grip as you make a break for it.

You don’t make it very far though, only reaching the edge of his grave before you lose your footing. The tip of your shoe catches on a tree root, sending your body tumbling forward onto the wet ground. The impact knocks the wind out of you as you struggle to take a breath in. Your nails dig into the grass for purchase as you try to crawl away.

The feeling of two hands wrapping around each ankle has you screaming, thrashing about as you're dragged back towards the grave. The male flips you around, unable to hear his broken pleas over the sound of your own shrieks. You keep your eyes focused on the storm clouds above your heads, desperate for some kind of distraction. You wouldn’t look at him, you couldn’t.

This wasn’t your Eddie.

A dirty hand grips onto your chin, tilting your head down as he wedges his body between your thighs. Forcing you to face him, his dark eyes ablaze with fury— a sharp contrast to the way he gently cradles your jaw.

“I’m not in the mood for games… just get on with it,” you snap, letting your eyes slip shut as you wait for that familiar pain to shoot up your spine and through your skull.

But nothing happens.

You crack an eye open only to find the brunette staring back down at you, confusion coating his features.

“… get on with what, sweetheart?” His voice cracks, the look on his face mirroring his tone.

“Killing me,” you state, as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

There’s a moment of silence between you before he starts laughing, the booming sound instantly melts your insides. It was something you thought you would never hear again.

“I guess my entrance was very Night of the Living Dead, huh?” He teases with a wide grin as his head dips lower— his drenched curls sticking to your cheek.

When you feel Eddie’s lips connect with the base of your throat, your breath hitches. Heat pools in your middle as he inhales, groaning deeply. The sound vibrates against your skin, sending shockwaves through your system.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he hums, his hands running down the length of your sides. The male grips onto the soaked fabric of your dress, slowly inching it up until his palms are splayed across the tops of your thighs.

“You’re so warm,” he continues, his nose grazing along your collarbone as you grip onto the shoulders of his oversized suit jacket.

“H-How are you here?” You question with a small whine as he lightly nips at your throat, chuckling deeply.

“You brought me here, sweetheart.” His words are spoken reassuringly, but they don’t offer you any comfort.

“So, this is a dream,” there’s no question in your voice, only a trace of melancholy.

But Eddie notices it immediately, his head lifting from the crook of your neck. His dark eyes met yours for a moment, a look of determination flashing through his irises.

“Does this feel like a dream to you, baby?”

Before you can reply, his lips brush against yours. Any worries that this wasn’t real melt away with each press of his mouth on yours. Silencing the fear that this will all disappear the moment you pull apart. The storm rages on as he kisses you with an electricity that rivals the lightning above you.

“Definitely not a dream,” you mumble, earning a soft chuckle from him.

You swallow the sound as you kiss him deeper, his ringed fingers gliding further up your thighs and under your dress. Your own slip underneath the collar of his jacket, sliding it off of his shoulders. Letting the rain soak into his white dress shirt, the fabric clinging to the muscles in his back.

Your hands quickly rake through his hair, tugging on the drenched curls as his mouth trails along your jaw. Continuing lower as he sucks harshly on your skin, enjoying the way your body responds to each press of his lips. A breathy whine spills past your own as his fingers reach the elastic band of your panties.

The tension between you continues to mount as you eagerly drag his mouth back to yours. Eddie’s fingers curl under the waistband, snapping the lace against your skin. You barely register the tearing of that same fabric, too preoccupied with his lips on yours. The clinking of his belt soon follows, aiding him in pushing his slacks down his thighs.

“Please,” you plead, lifting your hips against his. Not wanting to waste another second to have him buried inside you.

The brunette gently shushes you, pulling back for a moment as he rubs the tip of cock through your drenched folds. His pupils dilate as he takes in the way your lips part under his thumb. A shaky breath escapes them as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he coos, caressing your cheek as he guides his hips forward. Slowly slipping into your awaiting heat with a strangled groan, “I’ll take care of you.”

His actions are gentle, as your bodies become reacquainted with each other. Eddie guides your hands above your head, fingers lacing together in the dirt. Your thighs are snug around his hips, desperate to keep him as close as humanly possible.

He rocks his hips into yours at a deep but leisurely pace, letting him savor every moment he spends inside you. As neither of you know what will happen after this is all over, it’s not something you want to think about.

Being here, in this moment, with him is the only thing that mattered to you.

The ferocity of the storm drowns out the cries that leave your lips, much different from the agonized ones you had let out earlier. Everything feels heightened, pleasure coursing through your veins with each stroke of his cock.

There’s a sudden shift in his demeanor as his eyes glaze over with an almost dangerous glint. Similar to that of a predator who had locked eyes on his prey. Your heart rate increases as a deep growl permeates the air. His fingers slip out of yours, instead digging into the soil beside you as his body goes rigid.

The brown of his irises disappear from view as he squeezes them shut, worry beginning to fill your chest. Your hands reach up to cradle his face, feeling how tightly his jaw was clenched underneath your fingertips.

“Eds,” you call softly, but the male remains frozen above you— a statue of Adonis.

He was losing control, ready to slip through your fingers. But you had already lost him once, and you weren't about to let it happen again.

“Stay with me,” you implore, softly pressing your lips against the furrow between his eyes. Brushing the dirt from his cheeks as you continue to trail tender kisses across his face.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he finally speaks as your lips hover over his, your breath mingling together.

“You won’t,” you promise as your nose nudges against his.

Eddie seems reluctant as he opens his eyes, crimson beginning to bleed into his irises. “But there’s something different…” he trails off, searching for any trace of fear reflecting in your eyes. “I’m different.”

“I don’t care,” you don’t miss a beat, capturing his lips with yours once more.

He moans into your mouth, hands encircling your waist as you lift your hips, encouraging him to thrust deeper inside you. Your tongue slips past his lips, gliding along his front teeth. Coming to a sudden realization as you feel the pointed edge of his canines.

Logically you should feel frightened, but it seems to have the opposite effect on you. Your kisses become frantic as your walls flutter around his shaft, the sensation causing him to moan out your name. The pace of his hips quickens as your nails dig into the drenched dress shirt covering his back.

Your lips separate as you gasp, his cock hitting that spot that has you seeing stars. The both of you falling closer to that precipice with each thrust of his hips. But it’s not quite enough, needing to connect with him on a new level.

Eddie peers down at you in awe as your head falls back, baring your throat to him. “Do it,” you insist, guiding his mouth towards your neck.

You can sense his hesitation, his lips ghosting over your skin instead.

“Please, Eddie,” you beg, his groan vibrating against your throat. “I want you to.”

The sincerity in your tone squashes any doubts still lingering in his head. Allowing his teeth to graze against your tender flesh, testing his resolve.

“I trust you,” is what he needs to hear before he sinks his teeth into your neck.

Your body arches into his chest, trembling as that familiar wave of euphoria crashes over you— pulling you under completely. Eddie drinks from you greedily, continuing to work you through your high as his own steadily approaches.

“Taste so fucking good, sweetheart,” he moans as his teeth detach themselves from your throat.

His tongue darts out, lapping up the blood that begins to trickle down the curve of your neck. The sight of his mark on you is almost enough to send him over the edge. But your pretty whines are the final nail in his coffin, hips stuttering as he fills you with his warmth.

“I love you.”

Those three little words are whispered against your collarbone as the male collapses onto you. A content smile spreads across your face as your fingers card themselves through his curls. The both of you soaking up this moment of bliss for as long as you can.

The rain above your heads has finally slowed to a drizzle, the pitter patter of the droplets matching your heartbeat. You don’t know how long you laid there like this, bodies intertwined on his grave.

But it didn’t matter, as long as it was him you were entangled with.

“I love you too,” you reply a while later, the male humming as he lifts his face from the crook of your neck, crimson smeared across his lips.

A fond look falls over his features as he leans down to kiss you again, the metallic taste of you lingering on his mouth. A thought suddenly occurs to you, causing you to giggle against his lips.

“What’s so funny, sweetness?” He muses, pulling away from you with a raised brow. You tuck a loose curl behind his ear, a teasing smile playing on your lips.

“Just trying to think of how to explain this to Steve.” You watch in amusement as a scowl appears on his face.

“Poor thing is gonna think I was mauled by a wild animal,” you tease, gesturing to the bite mark on your neck.

You see a flash of jealousy in his eyes, a low growl rumbles through his chest as his lips reattach themselves to your throat— causing you to squeal.

“Harrington’s just gonna have to deal with it,” he answered smugly, hugging your body closer to his.

The both of you completely unaware of the looming figure watching you from the tree line.

tagging some lovelies: @xxbimbobunnyxx @munsonhoneybaby @rowanswriting @voyeurmunson @nailbatanddungeon @vecslut @likedovesinthewnd @lofaewrites

[bloodiedrogue]

THE ROGUE TAX (2)

SUMMARY: Fed up with paying Astarion to pick all the locks, you force yourself to learn the hard way.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader (reads as Gender Neutral but future chapters will be femme focused, just a heads up!)

WORD COUNT: 2,635

WARNINGS: Short nightmare sequence, too much sexual tension, slight mentions of a handkink, inappropriate lock pick teaching.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know I'm posting these super early but day two of the Haunted Hoedown! This time the prompt is "finders keepers!" I honestly had so much fun with this one, so hopefully all the new Astarion fans that've followed me in the last day enjoy? Love you guys. :))))

Also I was originally going to make all of these challenge fics separate but I've since decided to make it more of a connected fic so... that's a thing now? I'll link the last chapter below!

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

-

“I wasn’t aware you were so proficient at lock picking.” 

You smirk at Astarion’s false praise, busying your hands against the lock’s mechanism. You’ve only been at it for five or six, maybe seven tops but you can already tell it’ll be a while. The lock itself is tough; covered in a layer of thick rust. Plus, being that it’s a chest and not a door, it’s a bit more advanced than you’re used to.

“Yes, well, not all of us are vampires that can woo their way through a padlock.” 

In response, Astarion laughs, throwing his head back so dramatically that from the corner of your eye, it looks as if he’s lost his head for a moment. “You do realize who you’re talking to, correct?”

You hum out a response and push the short hook further in, feeling the pressure of a loose pin hit the end. When that happens, you grin to yourself and slide closer to the chest, biting your bottom lip in excitement. 

Over the last few weeks, you and the rest of the group had come upon some interesting findings. A cave inside a well, a few hidden cellars around the surrounding the goblin camp, a hidden chest or two. At first, it was exciting, getting to experience the joys of a good treasure hunt but quickly such feelings fell once you discovered how difficult it was to break into said things without the help of Astarion and his seemingly magic hands.

“I know you’re excited to prove yourself, darling, but why don’t you let me finish things off, hm? It’ll go a lot quicker.” 

You shake your head and continue your ministrations, carefully pushing the hook further in, feeling that alleviated pressure of another pin. “I’m tired of relying on you and your bloody rogue tax.” 

After agreeing that Astarion would just pick every lock your party found for a price, it was evident he was more than willing to take more than he was owed. Saying things like I did all the work or you wouldn’t be here if not for me, it was obvious he was exploiting you. Using his roguish charms to earn himself a bigger cut despite doing next to nothing else. 

It was frustrating, to say the least. Another minor annoyance to add to his long list of negative personality traits, and lately you were determined to combat it. To learn the trade for yourself so that every piece of treasure found could remain solely yours. 

“I’m sure everyone is but that’s the price you pay for a professional.” 

You roll your eyes and continue to fiddle, feeling his gaze glued to the positioning of your hands —how your fingers tighten and twist around the metal instrument. 

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you at least a little bit nervous —having his eyes on you. Across your palms, you can feel the slick of sweat collecting with each new movement, while behind you, you can practically feel Astarion’s judgement throughout, silently picking apart all of your mistakes. 

“You’re doing—“

You shush him angrily before he can continue, knowing he’s trying to break your concentration. Knowing that he thinks that if he can prove to be enough of a distraction you’ll end up slipping up and giving in. 

“I was just going to tell you about the wonderful job you’re doing.” His tone is laced with sarcasm. Drenched in a thick layer of impatience that has you groaning under your breath. 

“Isn’t there someone else you can bother?”

“No.”

You know there is. In the other room of the abandoned building you currently find yourselves in, at least four other people are rooting through the rubble. Most likely they’re stationed in their usual areas. Gale’s probably next to the stack of bookshelves with Karlach, telling her all about his collection back at the camp while Wyll and Shadowheart are searching through the cellar in hopes of more wine. 

“You sure?”

For a moment you debate telling him to go keep watch with Lae’zel just so that he’ll shut up but the thought dissipates once you feel him flop onto the floor beside you with a groan. 

“Everyone else is so dull,” he complains. His line of slight flickers between your face and hands, watching the way they remain almost too still as he speaks. “They’re all do this do that, and for what?”

You shrug your shoulders ever so slightly, unsure of what he means.

“They’re all living for other people, darling. Other causes. Everything they do serves a higher purpose and for that reason alone, they’re boring.”

Despite your previous determination your hands release themselves from the padlock before you find yourself readjusting —moving to plop down next to him. “You think everyone’s boring because they’re selfless?”

“Predictable,” he corrects, pointing a loose finger in your direction. “All of them talk too much about a future that may not even come considering we’re infected and have little idea on how to remedy the situation.” 

You’re not sure where this rant is coming from but you welcome it considering it’s been weeks since you’ve had a normal conversation that didn’t revolve around mapping or looting or combat. Weeks since you’ve taken a moment to learn about the people you find yourself in constant contact with. 

“Some people just don’t like looking back.” 

There’s a hint of surprise in his eyes when you respond as if he wasn’t expecting such an answer. Or really, maybe an answer at all. All at once his face seems to rise in thought, taking a moment to absorb the words before he hums in response, pursing his lips. “Yes, well, I suppose some people don’t have a past worth running from.”

What’s that supposed to mean?

The tadpole behind your eye wriggles for his attention before you can even think to suppress it. Working to pull him in as you stare at one another, narrowing your eyes at the sudden cerebral contact. At first, he’s reluctant. You can feel the pushing sensation suggesting that you stop. That you should stick to the confines of your own mind rather than pestering him, but quicker than you can move away to agree, it’s as if you’re sucked back in again. Pulled by the very thread of your own brain matter to see flashes of a life you assume to be his.

The first thing you see is candlelight. A flickering of warm hues that dance across wooden interiors. It’s almost dizzying the way the light shifts across your vision, forcing you to close your eyes. Next to you, you can hear Astarion breathing heavily. Deep inhales followed by even deeper exhales that you swiftly use as a metronome to carry your focus. To aid your tadpole’s connection. 

Swallowing hard, you listen to the beats of his breath, feeling them take over your chest as the vision in front of you grows to reveal bits of cobblestone. In the background, you can hear the faint sounds of scuttling feet. The dripping of water. A hungry growl followed by an even hungrier gnaw of flesh that squelches on your tongue. 

You can taste the iron —feel the fur and bones of an unknown animal brush against your lips and gums. All of it swirls around your mouth like a tornado of overstimulating sensations, forcing the vision to pass as you reach for your throat, coughing up nothing but your own spit despite how real it feels. 

It’s apparent then what Astarion means. That some people aren’t always blessed with the privilege of running away. That people like him don’t have the means of calling upon allies to aid them through the awful shit that is reality. 

Even with such little context, you can sense through his tadpole that he’s alone in this life. Alone before the Illithid —alone now. And more than likely, he’ll be alone after it’s all over, in death or otherwise. 

Rubbing your throat —trying your best to get rid of the tainted feeling of skin and bone from your mouth, you feel empathy rather than sympathy. An understanding of his words as you look toward him, noticing the far-off look in his eye before he blinks and travels back.

“I only showed you that to save the explanation,” he says, and whether or not it’s true you merely just nod, welcoming the silence. The tranquil hush of two people attempting to navigate the other. 

It doesn’t last long. In between, there are a few moments of background noise. The sound of echoing footsteps and muffled voices. You know it’s the others looting just as you should be, but neither of you moves to join until Astarion eventually clears his throat, signalling change. 

“Anyway, they’re all in their own worlds, coasting on the wings of optimism.” He flicks his hand around the air while rolling his eyes. “It’s disgusting and partly why I choose your company above theirs.” 

Letting yourself fall back into your usual, somewhat antagonistic rhythm, you give him a curious look. “Partly, huh?”

“Don’t get too excited,” he quips, the edge of his lip twitching into that usual grin of his. “The other part is the potential of your blood, darling.”

“Ah yes. And here I was assuming you were just following me around so that you could steal my treasure.”

Both of your eyes move back to the unbroken padlock. It’s the only thing in this room that seems to be worth either of your time and Astarion knows it. It’s why he’s been so keen on your failure. 

“You know, I could help you if you like. Show you a thing or two so that the next time this happens you don’t have to rely on me.”

It’s tempting, even if you know that you’ll be taxed to all hell. Whatever spoils you find will ultimately be cut in half and, more than likely, he’ll sweeten the deal for himself by claiming first pick. 

“What’s the price?”

He shoots you a look of offence, clutching his chest. “My dear, I’d never dare put a price on the education of thievery.”

You hold back a grin, pressing your lips together, watching the way he quickly springs into action, motioning for you to hand him your tools. When you do he begins to explain the process, showcasing all the tips and tricks against the air with careful precision. Which would be helpful if you weren’t so focused on his hands rather than his words. On the way they curl around the handles of your tools, tightening with every gesture performed. 

Astarion’s got nicer hands than most. Long and thin and surprisingly well-manicured for someone who spends most of his time in the forest or drinking the blood of unsuspecting animals. And guiltily enough staring at them so intently just reminds you of that night he drained your neck. 

You can still feel the pressure of his fingers against your head. The way they roughly cupped you like a goblet of wine. Despite the fear in that moment, you’re now able to look back at that memory almost fondly. A moment of potential weakness for you somehow became a moment of trust for him and as a result, here you were now, acting almost friendly amid a terrible situation. 

It makes you grin, prompting Astarion to stop his explanation and narrow his eyes. 

“Are you even listening?”

“Hm?”

There’s a knowing glance that befalls his face then. A transition of clarity that has his mouth opening and closing before he hands you your tools. “Might be best if we take a more hands on approach.” 

You look at him confused, letting the hooks in your hand lazily rest in your palm as you watch him hop to his knees and begin to guide you. 

“I want you to do exactly what you were doing before, alright? Use the hook to push the pins.” 

Despite your continued confusion, you follow his position by kneeling in front of the chest and popping the hook into the hole, digging around the darkened space until you feel the shift of that first pin. 

“Got it?” You spare him a glance and a nod, watching him crawl towards you, positioning his chest firmly against your back before reaching out to hold your wrists. “Now, take that other hook of yours and situate it at the base of the barrel.”

Doing exactly that, you feel his fingers slowly slip over yours, navigating you through the trials of getting that second pin to shift as the barrel turns in your grasp. At first, it’s difficult. Mostly because all you can focus on is the breath that hits the side of your face. The heat of the air that travels down your spine in nervous waves you’re almost certain he can feel. But then you’re reminded that you’ve been here before; stuck within his heated grasp. 

“That’s it. Just like that.” 

You’re practically holding your breath as you find that third pin, feeling Astarion’s hand shift you in the right direction before you lose it at the last second. Ever so gently, his chest shifts upwards against your back so that he can rest his chin on your shoulder to get a better look. A newfound weight that makes you close your eyes and release a bit of air from your nose, realizing how intimate this is. 

Somehow it feels even more personal than letting him feed off of you. Perhaps because the bloodsucking was for his own benefit, knowing Astarion, moments like that where he’s able to take rather than give mean next to nothing to him. They’re just moments of manipulation. A series of tactical steps he takes to get whatever he wants whereas this is different. This is for you. 

You’re not sure how to describe it other than an offering of trust. Maybe it’s a token of appreciation for letting him consume. Maybe it’s nothing more than a game to make you squirm beneath his grasp. Either or, it’s an experience you know you’ll be thinking of for days to come, attempting to decipher its intent.

“Once you feel that final pin I want you to ease it in gently, alright? Be delicate.” 

You offer him no response as you listen to his words. If you did, you’re certain he’d make some offhand comment that would only further the lewdness of it all, grinning like the mischievous prick he is. 

“After that, you should feel a little shift and —voilà!” 

The chest clicks open. Your breath releases in a long, much-needed stream but Astarion makes no effort to move from your frame. Instead, he continues to cling to your hands, angling his chin so that when you eventually look at him you’re practically touching noses. 

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“It’s that easy?”

Slowly but surely he slips from your frame with a nod, his hands sliding across the expanse of your sleeves, coating your skin in a wave of goosebumps as he moves to stand. “Yes, but keep it hush, hush. Wouldn’t want the others to find out, would we?”

You shake your head, a small smile creeping across your lips as you then turn towards your reward, gripping both edges of the lid before pushing it up. Inside there are only a few items. A few spell scrolls and some fabric but it’s enough to get you excited regardless, realizing that it’s yours.

“Not bad for your first go.” Peeking over your shoulder, Astarion watches as you sift through everything carefully, unrolling each scroll to read the details before looking back up and raising a brow. 

“You sure there’s no tax?” you ask, but all he does is laugh and shake his head. 

“Finders keepers, darling. As I promised.” 

[trumpkinhotboy]

I'll keep an eye on you - II

pairing: jacob black x reader

type: not requested

genre: bit angsty and fluffy

warnings: none

word count: 3400

requests: open! for twilight wolfpack, narnia, heartstopper

a/n: hope you enjoy this lil part 2 !! also I really want to thank @tgarrett26 for helping me with this fic (you are awesome) + they are the reason there is even a pt.2 hehe

part I part III

*gif is not mine

summary: After one night of respite, the reader confronts the day to realize the shadows haven't quite disappeared yet.

There's a timid sunbeam lighting up your cozy little room. Nothing scary or menacing in view. You look over to your nightstand with barely opened eyes to see your mushroom light still on. The clock on your desk shines the time. 7:00am. 

7am?!

You sit straight up, immediately noticing the big dent on the left side of your bed. Yes, of course, Jacob came in last night. Your cheeks flush with the thought of having slept so soundly next to the heaping mountain of muscles that is your friend. You feel so confused and well-rested. For the first time in a few weeks, you awoke calmly. This might have been the best night of sleep of your whole damn life, and it's 7:00am! You managed to wake up before your alarm. You wouldn't have to be rushing to school for once. You were usually only able to fall asleep when the sun started shining and chased away the threatening shadows of the night. So, being late to school was a recurring occurrence for you. For once, your father wouldn't have to come in to try and wake you up. You were pushing away your blankets to get up when there was a knock on your door before it slowly cracked open.

"Sweetheart, time to wake up. Don't want to be late for sch-"

Your father's traits lifted up in surprise, and honestly, you couldn’t really blame the man. You didn't keep track of all the mornings he found you all tangled up in your blankets, hair sprawled everywhere like a bird's nest, saliva drooling down your chin.

"Did you sleep well?"

You nodded eagerly, a sincere smile spreading on your lips. Charlie seemed incredibly thrilled by that piece of news. He was no stranger to the nightmares haunting your nights and was brokenhearted to see you so tired and on edge all the time.

"Well, then. Better get down and eat breakfast before you head to school." He gave you a timid smile before softly closing your door.

You had your first breakfast with your dad in a long time. He was particularly chirpy, and you kept catching his relieved gaze. You left for school on time and had a really great day. You felt awake and energized. Participating in class and your little social circle once again felt like a rush. Your efforts were welcomed with gigantic smiles from your teachers and friends. For a second, you thought the weeks of anguish and terror might finally be behind you. Maybe a night with Jacob had been the only thing you needed to put this whole thing behind you. However, as the sun went down and shadows stretched on the ground, you got more flinchy and twitchy. Once more, you turned at every odd sound, looking over your shoulder as you left the school grounds. You almost ran to your car, locking all the doors, and left a trail of dust with how fast you headed back home on the powdery roads of Forks. 

Dinner with your father was much more somber than the breakfast you shared this morning. You felt like a dagger to your heart, his disappointment when he saw you jump as he caught you by surprise in the kitchen. You usually were always careful about hiding your internal conflict from Charlie. Yet the frustration you felt tonight weighed much more than the want to hide everything from him.

Once dinner was over, you climbed the stairs with heavy steps, feeling the dread in your body get worse the closer you got to your bedroom. You opened the door to find a space very different than the one you had left when you awoke this morning. Your still unmade bed didn't feel so inviting tonight. Long gone were the rays of sunshine that scared the shadows away. The room you faced was now dark and gloomy. Nothing about it felt safe or secure.

You rushed in to turn on your mushroom light and sat on your bed, trying to summon all your courage to breathe calmly. 

It's over now. Nightmares are just that. They aren't real. I'm safe now.

No matter how much you would repeat it, those words felt empty and fake. You got up, put your pajamas on, and as you were ready to get in bed, you noticed a piece of clothing jutting out from under one of the pillows. You lifted it up to find the T-shirt you lent to Jacob. He didn't keep it. He left your house shirtless so you could keep the stupid piece of clothing. You grabbed it and held it up to your nose. Immediately, your senses were overpowered by his woodsy scent. You fell to your bed, shirt still pressed on your face as you let a deep sigh leave your lungs.

Grabbing your phone on the night table, you hesitated. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard before you closed the device and threw it away.

The clock had just struck midnight when you heard something scratching outside. You almost had a heart attack when you saw Jacob hanging onto your window, motioning for you to open it.

"Jacob Black. What the hell are you doing? Do you want to kill me?!"

Your tall friend let out a deep chuckle as he swiftly stepped into your room without making a noise. His gaze fell onto the fort you had built yourself. There were pillows and blankets lined all around your bed, a very feeble attempt at a barrier. The tv screen was paused on one of your favorite movie. He gave you a worried look and took a second to really take in the state you were in. You didn't look like the relaxed girl he had, reluctantly, left in a peaceful slumber this morning.

"What?" you defensively crossed your arms on your chest, already sensing where this conversation would be going.

"What are you doing?" he quietly asked, his head slightly leaning on one side.  

"I was watching a movie." 

You immediately saw a shadow pass in his dark eyes and felt a familiar pain ring in your chest. You couldn't live with disappointing both your father and Jacob. Worse, you couldn't live with the pity in their eyes. If only the bad dreams could stay away. 

"What are you doing," you finally asked, a bit more roughly than you had intended.

He hesitated, sensing you had been offended in some way. "I just did a quick run around the perimeter, but then I saw the light open and just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Your expression softened at the concern painted on his handsome face. Fear did make you more on edge, but you knew Jacob had done nothing to deserve that anger. You sighed before plopping down on your bed.

"That's very nice of you, but I am okay. I just didn't feel tired yet." 

You felt adamant about telling him of the return of the paranoia. You were already so disappointed in yourself. You couldn't even muster the bravery to be in your room alone at night. What would it even do if you told him the truth? It felt so shameful to ask again for his help, to ask him to watch over you while you were sleeping. Just because, like a child, you were afraid of the dark and the beasts it hid. You were instantly relieved when he gave you a suspicious glance as if he might believe your lie. You gave him your best smile, trying to prove how relaxed you were. You only wanted to chase the worries away from his chocolate eyes. 

That could have worked if only the sound of your house creaking under a strong gust of wind and a branch scratching on your window hadn't made you flinch so damn hard. 

Jacob's gaze hardened over your tense figure. You expected him to make a comment, to confront you. As you waited anxiously for the ax to drop, he finally walked over to your bed, sat, and pointed to your television.

"May I join you then?"

You initiated him to one of your best comfort movies. It required absolutely no brain power and just helped you feel better. Always a good player, Jake obliged and even seemed to enjoy it. When you were done, you spent another hour just chatting about nothing and everything. You tried hiding your clock from his sight and hoped he wouldn't notice time flying away, but sadly, there wasn't much your figure could hide from his wolfish sight.

"It's getting late. I should probably go," He muttered after an hour of mindless chatting. His dark eyes fixed on your features, you faced each other, forearms tucked under your head while you lay on your side. You couldn't help your shoulders and jaw from tensing up at his words. The happiness and carelessness he had brought you vanished as if it never occurred. Fear crept up in your belly at the thought of being alone in the dark again. 

You gave him a tight smile as you nodded. He hesitantly got up, giving you another weird look. You barely registered it, too focused on avoiding falling into a panicked state. He walked to the window, and as you thought he was about to leave, he turned around on a whim.

"I really don't understand you. Even in this state, you won't ask for my help?" 

His outburst surprised you and unintentionally made you recoil at the swift motion. He sighed deeply, "Please don't look at me like this. I want to understand. Why don't you want my help?" he repeated, annoyance rippling in waves from his body.

"I- I'm not sure what you're talking about," you responded, determined to hang on to the shred of dignity you had left.

He let out a sarcastic laugh. It was dry and reeked of disdain towards this fluke you were trying to fool him with. "Stop playing Y/n. You reek of fear." 

His words were like a punch in the gut. You felt shame hitting you as you realized how stupid you had been. 

"See? Your reaction only confirms what I already knew. What I don't understand is why you insist on facing this alone. You can always call me, and I will always come through for you. Have I not proven that?" 

"You did, but it's not your responsibility to fix me. To fix this."

"Not my responsibility?" he scoffed. He turned around while dragging his hand through his hair. He was a mix of so many emotions you couldn't pinpoint what was brewing in his brain. He stayed silent for so long that you thought he would leave you like this. You were about to add something when he raised his voice. "I would give everything to go back to that night. To be there by your side. Maybe you wouldn't have to go through that, or at least I would have been the one to rip to shreds that bloodsucker." Flames of rage danced in his eyes while you stood speechless, gawking at him. 

You were at a loss for words. You had seen Jake in many different states in your friendship, but he never looked so conflicted. Anger and sadness seemed to be battling out the right to overpower him. For a rare moment, he looked incredibly vulnerable. He was back to being that innocent teenager you had always known. You approached, unsure whether that would make him lash out, but he stayed put, his eyes fixed on the ground. You knew Jacob felt responsible for what happened to you. What you didn't know is that he tortured himself with it. Your heart ached at the thought, and any frustration you had felt up to this point melted.

Softly, you grabbed his hand. "Jacob, look at me."

When he finally turned around and lifted his gaze, tears hung on to the line of his long lashes. The sight of it made your throat close up. 

"Why won't you let me care for you," he whispered, inches from you. 

His gaze was so deep and carried a tsunami of emotions. Without even thinking about it, you grabbed his face. Both of your hands cradled his soft and warm skin. You saw goosebumps creep up his muscled arms, mirroring the one on yours. Bringing his forehead to your own, you took a deep breath.

"I don't want to be a burden."

Saying the words that'd been ringing in your head for so long felt almost exhilarating while also being incredibly relieving. Contrary to the belief of your messed up head, the world didn't end or break in two once the thought left your lips. 

"I've always thought you were such an incredible person and couldn't help but always want to be better for you. Ever since you phased, that feeling only got more intense. You've evolved so much in the past few months, and I'm still old me. When I got attacked, it was the most horrible experience of my life, but it also reinforced that concept. I couldn't even walk from yours to Emily's cabin without being attacked. The boys had to risk their lives to save me. I didn't even get one scratch, and still, I'm afraid of the dark. I'm afraid to sleep alone. I'm afraid if I let my guard down for one second... it'll happen again. Which means that I'll either die or be a burden for you guys once more because I can't even defend myself against something like that. You're already so good to me. I don't want to add this to your list of things to worry about." 

Your eyes stayed closed even after you finished and controlled your breathing again. Saying it aloud was incredible, but to open your eyes to face his reaction felt nerve-racking. You were about to when a strong pair of arms wrapped around you. 

"You are not and will never be a burden to me." His tone was soft and felt a little strangled. In your dimly lit little room, while the rest of the world was in a peaceful slumber, Jacob's words felt like the only thing that mattered.

He pulled back after a moment but still held you close. "I don't know what gave you the impression that you were a burden. If it ever was something I did, I want to apologize."

"I remember so vividly the look on your face when the boys brought me back to the cabin. You had the same disappointed expression as you have just now. I promise I'm trying to heal as fast I can, but this... this is harder than I thought it would be."

Confusion was now the only emotion on his face, clear as day. "Disappointed? Y/n, I never was disappointed. It was the worst, terrifying, shit your pants kind of fear I've ever felt. It's agony to know you're so ridden with fear. I was disappointed to learn that tonight was still hard for you, not because I think you're not healing fast enough, but because I hoped I finally helped you feel better. I feel so bad you have to live with these memories for your whole life. I just wish I could make them disappear." 

That's when you understood the slim difference between disappointment and defeat. One was channeled towards you, and the other wasn't. For Jacob, it had always been directed at himself.

"Jacob, you're the only one who makes me breathe a little easier. You're the only reason I slept soundly last night." A new light illuminated his eyes. You steadied yourself before you continued, your tone slightly hushed. "You've always had that specific calming effect on me. You're the only person who makes things better for me. Ever since we were kids. I have always felt safe with you. You're like my personal haven." 

It felt like a big thing to say, but you wanted that sadness to leave his face. You wanted his eyes to be filled with light again, and somehow, it felt right to tell him about all this. He spent so much time worrying about everything and everyone. He deserved to know how appreciated he was. He deserved to know what he meant to you.

Emotion thickened the air. So much so that it felt like you couldn't breathe just right. Your hands slid from his cheeks delicately. You placed one at the nape of his neck while the other grabbed the top of his hair. "Jake, I don't think you even understand how much you mean to me."

Time stood still for a moment. Your eyes focused on each other, and the rest of the world ceased to exist.

 "Y/n, I-" his eyes held something heavier. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something before deciding better of it. It almost looked like it cost him to try and get the words out. He gave up in a huff, and whatever was in his gaze, whatever he thought about, vanished. Some part of you wanted to push him, to ask, but tonight had been a rollercoaster enough. You could let it go for now. He pulled you in for another hug before releasing you a little.

"So, now that we've established that you are not a burden." he started softly.

"And that this is in no way your fault," you added with a grin. 

He rolled his eyes, "Uhm. Can you tell me what you actually need? I can stay here with you if you want."

You felt a pang of your old fears scratch at your heart, but you let them all go in one breath. "I would very much like that."

You tucked yourselves in bed for the second night in a row. You hesitated to turn off the light, but always so observant, Jacob assured you it didn't bother him to keep it open. You lay side by side in silence. You were focused on becoming familiar with the ordinary and hazardous sounds an old house made at night when Jacob started to whisper.

"I know you think you aren't as fearless as us, but I can assure you everyone in our tribe thinks you are the bravest person they've ever met. Not many people would feel comfortable hanging out with a bunch of new werewolves." 

"Brave or totally crazy," you added while making a wicked-looking face. His eyes disappeared in his bright smile, and you wished you could snap a picture of it. 

"No, but really, you're the only one who stayed by my side all throughout my phasing process. No matter how dangerous it was for you. If that's not the definition of bravery, I don't know what is." He turned pensive again while his gaze darkened.

You unwillingly recalled the phasing process of Jacob. All the terrible memories flashed before your eyes. His screams of pain still rang in your ears. You remember distinctly every time you wished to take his place. If you could have taken away some of his pain, you would have in an instant. The least you could do was stay by his side no matter what. You had to fight with Billy and the rest of the pack, but in the end, even they couldn't keep you away. No one could have.

You slid into his arms, and his body tensed under the new touch before quickly relaxing to envelop you in a tight embrace. 

"I would never leave you alone," you mumbled in his chest. "I know you like to have this strong and impressive appearance, but inside, you're still the same little Jacob I've always known. I know you need me."

You lightly pressed your lips onto his chest and nuzzled farther into him. Fireworks were exploding in the boy's chest as he returned the gesture with a kiss on your head.

"And Jake?"

"Uhm?"

"Don't think I didn't notice you wanted to tell me something important earlier. For tonight, it's okay, but we'll have to talk about that."

[muniimyg]

4.5: say it 》 series m.list

note: some feelings, some banter,, some smut at the beginning of the 3rd scene <3 have fun,, enj !!! do we like yuna and tae? vibes on... the jealousy? lmk what u guys think !!!mwah <3 updating sooon

taglist request: send a request with the title of this fic “c2u” // DO NOT comment here or on the masterlist . it gets confusing and i prefer answering and tagging through asks !!!

🏷️ permanent taglist: @joonsjuice @taetaecatboy @pb-n-juju @miss-rainy-days @firesighgirl @whoa-jo @vantxx95 @pamzn @kakixaku @casspirit0705 @tae165 @prdshobi @sopebubbles @leefics @ggukkieland @bebebutbetter @yoongimentita7 @boraength @era-genius @4ksj @vampcharxter @miss-jupiter @floweryjeons @taegijns @jeonqkooks-main

fic taglist: @mint--yoongs @ellesalazar @bloopkook

//

Soccer was something Jungkook was known for on campus.

It never occurred to you just how well-known he was until now… Yet, it doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Jungkook had quit the team out of boredom and curiosity only to be begged back in as if he’s their ace.

Okay, fine. 

… He probably is the ace. 

Jungkook comes off as too perfect. It’s quite irritating, actually. He has decent grades, a fun friend group, and a well-balanced lifestyle. You can’t help but hate that being a part of his routine for the past few weeks has you in this emotional state: needy. 

You’ve never felt this way before. 

Before the arrangement between you and Jungkook was made, you two barely saw each other. His life consisted of school, soccer, and friends. You only ran into him at parties or friendgroup outings. Having one class with him every other semester has to be the closest you two have ever been. 

You’ve never missed anyone before and although there’s an underlying warm feeling—your feelings of frustration and annoyance have never been stronger. His absence may have gotten your heart to grow fonder of him—but your anger and resistance to him continue to linger. 

It’s almost like a haunting feeling. 

As much as you want to carry on with your day and act like you aren’t waiting for his clingy text messages; you can’t help but itch and wonder what he’s doing and who he’s with. Though his text messages yesterday provided you with some sort of comfort and assurance, you can’t help but feel uneasy about all of this. 

About him. 

“Earth to ____?” Yuna waves her hands in front of your face. Snapping out of your thoughts, you offer her a warm smile. “Geez, you’re so out of it these days… Are you feeling sick?”

You shake your head. 

For a moment there, you were so lost in thought you forgot where you were. For a brief moment, you look out the window and notice the gloomy clouds before turning back to your space. The library is fuller than usual and Yuna is sitting in front of you with her laptop and notebook. She’s been talking for the past 20 minutes about… 

Something. 

You can’t recall.

Maybe you should start listening to her more… You’re truly the worst friend ever. 

“You look worried… Do you have an exam you didn’t study for or something?” Again, you shake your head in response. Yuna hums as she taps her fingers on her chin. Thinking to herself, she creates a solution. 

“Do you wanna come with me and see Taehyung?” 

You raise an eyebrow at her. “Why would I want to see Taehyung?”

She shrugs, putting her hands up in defeat. “…. Was just suggesting.”

Leaning towards her, you cheekily ask; “fess up. Do you have feelings for him?”

A gasp escapes her lips as she covers her mouth with her hands. Yuna furrows her eyebrows together and looks at you in panic. “Is the ____ interested in my love life? For the first time in forever? When did you get a nose job? You’re so nosy!”

You cover your nose and glare at her. 

“Shut up! Jungkook just mentioned that—”

“Jungkook, huh?” Yuna switches her hand placement immediately. She leans forward to you, putting her elbows on the table, and rests her chin on the palm of her hands. “What’s up with you two? I must’ve been wasted as hell that night at karaoke because if what I saw was true… Boy, do you owe me a girls night…”

Gulping, you keep your chin high. “What do you mean? What did you see that night?”

“He’s into you.”

“Jungkook is into everyone—”

“Yeah, right!” Yuna disagrees passionately, earning a few hushes from other students nearby. In a whispering tone, she continues. “Jungkook barely pays attention to the guys—his own friends! He does what he wants, shows up when he wants, eats what he wants and maintains his slutty figure, and parties when and with who he wants—I think… He wants you. He kept giving you fuck me eyes all night… And you! Don’t act all innocent. I saw you sulking like a little bitch! Which.. Is new? I’ve never seen you clingy before… Not with any of your exes... Not even with me."

You roll your eyes at her. Though her words rang true, you refuse to yield. If Yuna, the densest human in the world, can figure you out... You're fucked.

“You’re right.”

Yuna’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“You were sooo wasted that night.”

After a few hours of studying, you and Yuna pack your things up. She practically begs you to come with her as she meets up with Taehyung. In all honesty, it didn’t take much convincing. For some reason, you say yes with the tiniest bit of hope that Jungkook would be with him. 

Although, you don’t ask.

Hurrying out of the library, Yuna instantly spots Taehyung. With a toothy smile, he waves and picks up his pace. He greets Yuna with a pat on her head and you by nudging your arm. 

“Where’s Jungkook?” 

Shrugging, you look around as if you could spot Jungkook. Shyly, you answer, “thought he was with you.”

“He came home late yesterday…” Taehyung says as if it mattered for you to know. “I assumed he was with you.”

In response, you shake your head at him. “Nope. I haven’t seen him in a while… Last time was when we got coffee—”

You wince at the memory. 

“You okay?” Yuna’s face falls concerned. Taehyung looks at you rather confused. She hits his arm and confides in him. “See what I mean? She’s been like this all day.”

Taehyung tightens his lips as he gives your odd behaviour some thought. “Maybe she’s sleep-deprived. Are you sleepy, ___? You look a little tired.”

“Maybe the break-up is finally hitting her. Do you miss him, ___? Is that it?” Yuna suggests rather passionately. “You know, I miss him! He was a good boyfriend and you seemed happy—”

You huff, feeling defeated. “I’m just tired. I guess I’m more tired than I realize. I think I should just head home… I’ll catch up with you guys next time.” 

Yuna shoves Taehyung away and pulls you in a hug. She sways you two side to side and cries; “my poor baby, ____! Feel better, okay?”

Laughing, you ask Taehyung to help you peel your best friend off of you. When Yuna lets go and gives you space, her eyes suddenly squint as if she has just seen something unpeculiar. Then, she rubs her eyes to be sure.

“Is that Jungkook?”

You turn your head and feel your heart clench.

It feels conflicted. 

Yes, that was Jungkook.

… But with whom? 

Before you can escape or avoid eye contact with him, Taehyung has already waved them over. Jungkook nods, acknowledging you all. He crosses the street and you turn around, keeping your head low. You do this because for some reason you feel all shy… Like you didn’t just have sex with him a week ago—in front of a mirror. 

“Whose that?” Yuna asks, disregarding the fact that the two were practically a three feet away.

“Who knows,” Taehyung scoffs. “Secret girlfriend? Sneaky link? Who knows with that kid.”

Yuna gasps. “No way! I thought he was into ___—”

“Hey,” Jungkook greets brightly. Taehyung and Yuna greet him with the same energy. He offers a big smile as he stands beside you and pinches your waist. You itch away and avoid eye contact. From the corner of his eye, he catches your behaviour and feels confused.

In a low tone, only loud enough for you to hear; he mutters, “Don’t ignore me. That’s fucking annoying.”

You don’t move. Still, you ignore his seductive words.

He tilts his head at you but figures you’re just in a mood. Shifting his focus, Jungkook breaks the ice. “Where you guys going?”

“I just met up with them like a few minutes ago,” Taehyung explains. “We were gonna grab dinner but I think—”

“Hi, I’m Yuna!” your best friend interrupts Taehyung. She stretches her hand out for the girl to shake. She takes Yuna’s hand and shakes it. “This is Taehyung and my best friend ___!” 

You raise your head and offer a short-lived smile. A simple, “hi,” is all you manage to choke out. 

Mina has short brown hair and pretty eyes. She’s a little shorter than you and has Jungkook’s towel hanging on her arm.

You feel sick.

“Nice to meet you guys! I’m Mina, Jungkook’s friend…” she pauses and lets out a shy laugh. “Actually, I’m more of his fan than I am his friend.”

Like a groupie? Ew.

Jungkook joins her and laughs. “She usually sits around with her friends on bleachers and watches our practices. We’ve been catching up since I got back in with the team. We were going to get dinner too.” 

Taehyung and Yuna nod, taking in the information. “Well, do you want to join us?” Yuna suggests. “___ isn’t feeling well so she was going to go home. It’d be nice to have better company! ___’s been so out of it today—”

You shush her. 

“You okay?” Jungkook brings his attention to you. 

It feels like you’ve just been kicked in the stomach. When did Jungkook’s gaze ever feel this… weird? It’s difficult to describe but it’s like you’re nervous or something. All you can really do is nod in response. 

“I’m okay,” you assure him. 

“You sure?” he presses, taking a step closer to you.  

He’s much closer to you this time and your body betrays you by staying still. You don’t move. You don’t even flinch. If anything, you take a deep breath and inhale his scent. It’s comforting after all the days you’ve spent away from him. From the corner of your eye, you can see Yuna begin to get excited to be witnessing this moment. When you can sense that she’s about to explode in best friend behaviour, you make your move. 

“Can I talk to you?” you blurt. “Please? It’s about that thing…”

Jungkook blinks. 

“Sure,” he doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. Text me the address. I’ll just drive ___ home so we can talk.”

You're thankful he says this. You're thankful he goes along with your request without question. For a second there, you weren't sure if he was on your side.

Rather, you worried if he liked you enough to choose you regardless of the mix-signals and thus far constipated interaction.

Mina offers a warm smile in return, but you can’t help but notice the disappointment in her eyes as Jungkook takes your tote bag off of your shoulder and carries it. He assures Mina that he’s leaving her in great hands and that he’ll be there no later than 30 minutes. 

“I parked my car that way,” Jungkook points towards the end of the street. “Let’s go?”

“Yeah,” you almost stutter. “I’ll see you guys next time. Nice to meet you, Mina.” 

“You too! Feel better,” she says sincerely. “See you in a bit, Jungkook?”

“See you in a bit,” he promises. Mina takes his word for it.

Jungkook bids his last goodbye before grabbing your wrist and practically dragging you to leave. As he does so, you watch Mina, Taehyung, and Yuna wave you two goodbye. Even a few feet apart, you can practically hear Yuna begin her gossip session. 

“See? He’s so into her!”

Unlike last time, there was no issue. 

Oh, it was up. 

Jungkook hisses at your touch. 

As you take his cock out, you run your thumb across the tip. You pump him, feeling his velvety skin follow the way you move your wrist. He’s thick—practically two hands on deck kind of thick. In fact, he looks even bigger in your hands. Maybe it’s the LED lights in his car or the fact that he hasn’t cum since your last meet-up—but he was bigger than usual today. If anything, it made you drool. 

Dipping your head low, you stick your tongue out and move his cock with your hands. You slap it against your needy tongue before closing your mouth and sucking on it. 

Bobbing your head, Jungkook can’t resist. He grabs a fistful of your hair and begins to push your head up and down. He holds your head close, making sure his dick touched the back of your throat. You gag and he takes that as a sign to let go. Pulling away, you take a quick breath in before puckering your lips at him. 

He shifts from his laid-back position and leans forward. Jungkook wraps his hand around your neck and brushes his thumb against your puffy lips. 

“You know how I like it,” he utters. “Missed this fucking mouth. Begging for kisses?” 

With hopeful eyes, you nod. 

“Anything my girl wants,” Jungkook leans in and kisses you slowly. He pulls away after just three kisses. “... My girl gets.”

“Kiss me lots,” you whine. 

Jungkook’s stomach turns. If it could do flips, that’s what it does. He would be an idiot not to know why you were acting this way… Yet, he still wanted to have fun. 

“Make me cum and I’ll kiss you all you want.” 

With that, you get back to it. 

You spit on his dick as you pump him at a slow pace. His hands travel to your shirt, pulling at the neckline to see your cleavage. You let go of him to lift your arms. Without hesitation, Jungkook helps remove your shirt and admires your breasts in a plain black bra. 

Suddenly, you shift your position. The passenger seat is extremely uncomfortable considering you’re giving him head… But this part must be the hardest part. You lean your body towards him more, prioritizing your breasts. Somehow, you manage to bend a certain way and slip his dick in between your tits. 

“Holy shit—” Jungkook cries as he begins to lose it. 

You bite your lip, trying your best to make this work. You hold your breasts closer together as he begins to pump himself. Every time Jungkook lifts his hips to dig himself deeper in, you can’t help but like the way the head pops up.

It’s almost cute. 

The position doesn’t last very long. You begin to cramp and Jungkook misses your mouth. So, you switch back to giving him a blow job. Then, that doesn’t last very long because Jungkook can’t do it anymore—he can’t hold it in. His breath hitches as you suck his dick. He throws his head back and hisses your name. 

“___,” he cries, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Then, he cums. 

He spills himself into your mouth and you swallow. As he empties himself, you take it upon yourself to lick his dick clean. Today, his cum tasted sweeter than usual. You wonder if his diet changed or if you just haven’t tasted him in a while.

Jungkook stares in amazement as you finish him off. He can’t help but let his mind spin as his body tingles from the sensation you caused. When you finish, you straighten yourself out and he hands you your shirt. Putting it on, you sit yourself back properly in the passenger seat and sigh in relief. Jungkook tucks himself back in.

“Good talk,” you joke, attempting to lighten the mood. 

Oddly enough, you feel awkward. What were you supposed to do now? After you two got into his car, it didn’t take much time before you threw yourself at him. Happily, he received your kisses and took it upon himself to drive towards his place. Parked outside his home, the coast was clear. You gave him head and now you feel stuck. 

Jungkook notices the panic in your eyes and reaches his hand out. He places them on your upper thigh, causing you to look at him. 

“What’s up with you?” Jungkook can’t help but ask. “You miss me too much?”

You scoff, “as if.”

He laughs, moving closer to you. Jungkook rubs your thighs innocently and squeezes it. It’s comforting for some reason… You like the way he touches you. 

“Spit it out, pookie.”

You shrug. “Nothing. Just wanted to give you head. You can take me home now.”

“Ha!” Jungkook taunts you. He then removes his hand from your thigh and reaches for his phone on the dashboard. Looking at the time, his eyes widen. 

“Shit!”

“What?”

“It’s been an hour? Mina called me like five times. I’m late—no, I missed it.”

Giving him head didn’t take an entire hour.. No, it was the flirting and the clingy talk that took majority of the time. Convincing him to let you give him head? That wasn’t even a conversation that needed to be done. It was always yes for you. So, you took your time.

Flirting.

Kissing.

And giving him a sloppy blowjob that completed the 1 hour mark of stalling.

Your lips curve into a small smile. Looking away, you feel a sense of relief. You aren’t proud of yourself but… This was something you could live with. As you stay silent, you think of what you could possibly say in this situation without coming off suspicious. 

But, your silence lasts a second too long.

“Wild guess but… Did you give me head so I’d miss the dinner?” Jungkook theorizes. 

You turn to him, eyebrows knitted together and your head slightly tilted to look confused. “Are you blaming me for missing the dinner?”

“Are you gaslighting me?”

You’re tongue-tied. For the first time in forever, you have no come back. Your brain can’t think of any words. Slowly and then all at once, you felt like a stupid idiot sitting in his car. Had you gone too far? You’ve never seen yourself act upon jealousy like this… You have no excuse. You have no explanation. You don’t feel like yourself. 

“Mina’s pretty. Is she your type?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer your question. Partly because he didn’t want to entertain whatever you had stirring up in your mind and partly because he didn’t want to feed tour ego.

“___? What’s up with you?”

“I don’t know.”

He sighs, not knowing whether he finds this irritating or cute. Why would you sabotage something so meaningless? Dinner with friends? It’s not like you weren’t invited either… His thoughts lead him to one question: “I think you’re acting jealous. Are you jealous?”

Unsure of what to do, you decide to give up. “Are you going to be mad at me if I admit that I am?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is this you admitting that you are?”

You reply in silence. 

“___?”

“Give me a fucking minute, okay? I’m trying to figure out if I should lie or not,” you groan. Taking a moment, you look into his eyes. “Am I supposed to lie, Jungkook?”

Now, he feels choked. “Maybe.”

You blink at him. 

Before you can stop yourself from the words that have been spiraling through your head all day—you confess softly; “I’m jealous.”

His head begins to spin. Is this what post-orgasm depression is? The pit of his stomach feels weird… 

Taking a deep breath, you shift your body to face him as best as you can. Fidgeting with your fingers, you push yourself to admit the ugly truth: “I don’t think I can lie about it… Jungkook, I don’t like it. I don’t like seeing you with other girls and I’m annoyed you have a little fan club. So, yeah. I sucked your dick so you’d miss your little date. I’m sorry, it was selfish of me… So, go catch up with her if you want…. I was out of place. I don’t care anymore—”

“Yes you do,” he cuts you off. 

You gulp, noticing the way his eyes have lit up. 

“Say it,” Jungkook insists. “Say it and I won’t go.”

With shifty eyes, you ask, “really?”

In all honesty, he wasn’t looking for a specific word or phrase. He just wanted you to say it. Say something. Make this fuck session mean something.

Jungkook breathes, “I’m all yours if you want me to be.”

“Yikes…” 

He shoots you a glare. You’ve ruined the moment. 

Jungkook reaches over and unlocks your door. “Fine. I gotta get going. You can walk home from here, right? Mina won’t mind me being a little late—”

You hit his chest with an annoyed look on your face. 

He smirks, “say it.”

“Jungkook,” you begin. “Don’t make me feel this way, okay? The second you continue this vibe, I’m going to expect more from you and that’s not what we—”

“Then expect more,” Jungkook scoffs. “It’s simple, ____. If you’re jealous, tell me. If you like me, tell me. If you hate this and want out—give me at least two weeks’ notice so I can emotionally prepare.” 

A part of your heart feels like it’s being tugged. Was he always this good with words? For some reason, you find it humorous. “You bring up confessing a lot… Are you trying to tell me something, pookie?”

“Please,” Jungkook laughs. “I’m not here to play stupid games and win stupid prizes. I’m not confessing until I have you absolutely in love with me… Pookie, this jealousy thing? It’s just the start. Just a little longer and you’ll be standing outside my window in the pouring rain, begging for me.”

In response, you make a puking face at him. “Shut up. The minute you get jealous, I’ll make you eat your words.”

He leans in and puckers his lips. “Why waste your time getting me to eat my own words when I can eat something else?” 

You cup his face and squish his lips together. Pressing your lips against his, you pull away quickly with a cheeky smile. “Keep entertaining your little fan club and you’ll be eating nothing.”

He rolls his eyes at you. “It’s not my fault they watch while we practice—”

“Jungkook.”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

He does just that.

Jungkook buckles your seatbelt and then his. Turning on the engine, he pulls out of his driveway and begins to drive you home. It’s a short 15 minute ride, but it’s filled with your rambling and constant shuffling of songs in his playlist.

As he stays silent, half-assed listening to you; he soaks in your presence and can’t find a single fibre in his body to be mad at you. He knows that what you did tonight was unacceptable. You had caused Mina to look like she got stood up and jeopardized a perfectly peaceful night by earning him a place on Taehyung’s hot seat of questions later tonight… But it’s okay.

With the smile on your face and the way you hesitate to reach for his hand as he drives; he can’t but help to feel like it’s worth it. Your hand will take his without a second thought one day. One day, you’ll be a part of the little fan club you hate so much. One day, it’ll work out because it has to.

If he never goes through these exact moments with you, maybe he wouldn’t have known his feelings for you… But, he does and it’s so clear to him.

Jungkook will wait for you.

[soullessdianthus]

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐘 | 𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐔

❗ APOLOGIES for the tag list in the comments, Tumblr has an issue with tagging more than 5 people ❗

Summary: Victorian AU where you are hired by Lord Simon Riley as his housekeeper in the secluded countryside. Besides the gardener - Johnny, you barely sees anyone around the house and the strange things begin to happen around you. The manor, or rather its residents, hides a terryfing secret.

AO3 link ⟶ 𝕏

A/N: Huge thanks to @starsexplodeatnight who was so kind and sweet to help me with the fashion aspects of this fic. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Also, won't lie, @ohbo-ohno's works and Ghoap dynamics inspired me to go back to the roots and to write some darker, gothic romance with Ghoap and Reader. At least I tried. ╮(￣▽￣"")╭

Warnings: dark themes, religious themes, dubcon/noncon (full list on Ao3)

Word count: 7.6k

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐄

Lord Riley’s house seemed to be alive at times. The wind sweeping through the draughty windows fills the lungs of the great manor. Old, wooden flooring creaks and the glass strain within its frames. 

You hated how untamed your imagination was especially after nightfall, when the darkness creeped in every hollow and corner of the manor. Since the first day, every night you would leave a single candle lit on the bedside table just to ease the vivid imaginations. When you were a child your mother scolded you about reading such profanities about ghosts and curses. 

And now you knew why. If the candle wasn't lit, strange figures danced in the shadows, their eyes imprinting into your skin and if were they real, would they try to hurt you or rather warn you?

But now, as a grown up woman, those nightmares of your childhood came back to haunt you once again. 

With all of your heart you were grateful for Sir Jonathan Price, a friend of your family, who helped you get into Lord Riley’s favour. It was him who wrote a letter of recommendation to make it easier for you to find a good, suitable job as a woman of your status. 

But he didn’t mention once that the manor was so far from civilization. 

Johnny quickly became your closest confidant around here. A Scottish gardener whose brown hair reached down to his broad shoulders and sparkly eyes in the colour of clear sky. He took care of the gardens as well as master’s horses and sometimes you could find him repairing a fence or something of sort. Johnny was a hardworking man, only a few years older than you, but he was also gentle, clever and jolly.

Such an opposite to Lord Simon who was everything but what Scot was – silent, harsh former lieutenant who would rather spend his time in the solitude of his chambers. Otherwise he would go on a ride or hunt into the forest on one of his favourite studs. Simon’s face was pale as a ghost’s and covered with shallow scars, remnants of his service in the army. 

Nonetheless, the tall, portly man seemed to enjoy your presence, if you dared to assume that, purely because you were quick to adapt. Lord liked his silence and you did not want to disturb your master’s peace, wouldn’t you? 

Within a week you have learned the following pattern – each day started with breakfast, which you ate alongside Lord, sporadically noticing the presence of busy cook, Kyle Garrick, who didn’t happen to talk much. Then, you would proceed with your everyday duties. Which did not include sneaking around to go and talk with the gardener, but nevertheless you did.  

And as the evening would finally come, you were sitting in the playroom of the manor embroidering while Mr. Riley was reading his book. Even Johnny was allowed to come sit with both of you, gnawing at the wooden pipe between his teeth. It all felt so domestic in such a short period of time. 

And how could you believe such gossip about Lord’s hospitality, or rather its lacking, hearsay in the city? 

Sundays were always a day of rest. You were sitting in your bedroom on the highest floor, reading one of the novels you brought from home. Too entertained with the story, you blindly reached for the cup of tea standing nearby. The noise of ceramic pot splattering across the floor caused you to tense immediately. 

It shattered to pieces. Such a waste, it was a pretty one. 

You closed the book with a sigh and set it aside, slowly walking towards a storage on this floor. With a small broom in your hand you returned to your room only to find it oddly… clean. The staining of spilled tea on the flooring was gone just as the bits of what was left of the floral cup. 

Almost like it never even happened. 

Your eyes wandered across the chamber, searching for the mess you just made. But every little trace of it was gone. You kneeled down and looked under each piece of furniture. Still, nothing was found, a broken teapot swallowed by the void.

Slowly you retracted from the room onto the long hallway, searching for the maids or signs of their presence. It must have been one of them, right?

— Hello? — You asked with hesitation in your voice, but there was no living soul to answer you back. Not nearby anyways. 

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈

Coos of the crows and rattle of their wings echoed through the old trees. And although the sky was grey and cloudy that day, no rain had yet fallen. Alongside Johnny, you went for an afternoon stroll down the borderline of the forest, enjoying a minute of break.

— How long have you been working for Lord Simon? 

— A couple of years now — the man reached down the wild grain growing on the field and plucked a single piece. He continued to play with it between his thick digits, brows narrowed as he reflected on his further answer. — He hired and gave me a roof over my head when I retired from service.

— You were a soldier too?

Johnny nodded with a simple “aye” and you smiled.

— What?

— Nothing. Didn’t think such a gentle gardener was once enlisted. 

— Yeah? Didn’t think a pretty lass like yourself would be so nosy. — He smacked the tip of your nose with the stalk he was holding. 

Your cheeks grew rosy and warm, when he paid you a compliment. Not that you were a prude! Actually far from that, but it was just that Johnny was so charming and he definitely knew how to sweet talk to a woman like you. 

— Not nosy, it’s considered rude — you explain to him, fidgeting with your fingers yet a smile is painted upon your face. — “Curious” I think suits me better. Those who spread gossip about others’ affairs and tragedies are the nosy ones. See, that’s the difference. 

Johnny stopped suddenly and took your hand into his palms. He held you gently, almost like you were made out of glass and he, with his admirable strength, could break you into pieces. What a great waste it would be to destroy such a pure soul. He leaned closer to your ear, warm breath tickling your sensitive skin and your heart almost jumped out of the ribcage. Should his closeness excite you so much? Should a grown woman be this rash?

— Only if we were seen by someone, here on the glade, alone. Scandalous — the man mocked such behaviours, while brushing a single strand of your hair behind the ear. — What would they think, hm? 

Before you took a step back, your gaze met his for a brief moment. There was a hint of curiosity and playfulness in his blue eyes. And perhaps something else, something much more obvious than you believed it was. 

Something that made men weak.

— Right, what would they say, Johnny? Who? — You asked him playfully, though your expression was full of sorrow. —  I barely see anyone around the house. I’m starting to believe those servants are some… ghouls living in the attic or they simply avert me so often. 

— Lord likes his peace, they work as if they weren’t there. Just as it needs to be. 

— It’s been some days now and I hadn’t met any of them. You’re the only person who actually talks to me. Don’t you get lonely there?

— Simon’s and your presence is enough for me. And well, it’s nice to talk to Mr. Garrick sometimes. 

— He talks to you? 

The cold breeze danced through your hair, causing you to shiver. Dry and brittle leaves crunched under your soles when the two of you continued to walk down the old pathway. 

— Autumn here is tough, lass, you should have worn a sweater. We should head back home, the nightfall is coming. 

You loathed the cold weather and how freezing the chambers got in the morning. Your first winter in England’s countryside might not be as pleasant as you thought it would be, with cold feet and no one in the manor to warm your spirit up. 

No peers, no guests, no neighbours. Just you, Johnny and Lord Riley.

You stood back in the middle of your quarter, looking at everything and anything at the same time. Each detail like a porcelain vase with flowers or lace tablecloth looked so neat, with no sign of dust it was almost impossible. Many questions were stacked inside of your head. 

Was your chamber cleaned every single day? If so, when did they do it? And why hadn't you even bumped into any of the servants of the manor? Yes, the building was large, but at some point you had to meet the staff, right? 

It has officially been two weeks since you moved to live and work here. Although using the word “work” was far-fetched. You hoped to become a governess to Lord Riley’s children, but that dream was quickly demolished as he had none. So then it was told that you were responsible for the house work, but there was no one to supervise as they were constantly hiding from you. So you were sitting there at the end of the day in a living room, chaperoning your Lord. This time without Johnny.

Fireplace was spitting long flames, popping ashes into the air. The interior was welcoming, when the wind behind the windows grew stronger. A storm was coming. 

— May I ask you a question, Sir? — You had put aside your embroidery set, before finally asking. The blonde man hummed, eyes still transfixed on the lecture he was reading. — How often do the maids come to my room?

— As often as needed. Why?

— I wanted to rearrange my quarters this morning, just to push the bed closer to the wall, but when I returned from the afternoon stroll, it was back in its primary place. 

— Then they fixed the furniture, didn’t they? 

You had a feeling that was not the case. You scratched the flooring during the first attempt, if the staff was to push the bed back to its origins, they would only do further damage. Yet, the wooden planks were brand as new. No signs of any scratches.

Were you hysterical? Was it all your vivid imagination?

— But it’s heavy, my Lord.

— And yet you managed to move it. So did they. 

Lord Riley was grumpy again, his voice hoarse and accent thick. 

You once again took the needle threaded with string into your fingers and returned to the unfinished piece, but the urge to continue pushing him was stronger. You might rather bite your tongue in the future. 

— Maybe I should talk with them and explain that I prefer it the other way. 

— I prefer when the rules of my household are followed. You wouldn’t have such an idea if you didn’t have so much free time.

Your hands dropped to your lap as you abruptly looked at him, slightly offended. And even though Lord tried to conceive this, you noticed how the edges of his lips twitched in a tiny smile. He was toying with you.

Simon was strict. Perhaps he never abandoned the military's rules and drills. He was an adamant man who valued his own comfort. That means, obeying his rules. 

— Come, I might have an idea how to keep you busy.

The Lord of the house rose from his seat. Each time you stood next to him, you were intimidated by his height and solid build. Despite being off duty, he kept his admirable physics of a Greek god. 

At least that is how the books you kept so dear to your heart described the brave warriors. 

You followed the master into his private library and patiently stood right behind him, when he was searching for a certain book. Finally he reached a thick tome in your direction – “A Mortal Immortal” by Mary Shelley. 

— Here, this may interest you — but when you stretched out to receive it, he moved the novel out of your reach. — Ah, ah. What do we say?

— Thank you. For borrowing me your book. 

— However, when I think about it, I’m worried this will only worsen your… troubled mind.

— My mind?

— Johnny told me you worry too much about some nonsense that should not be your priority in the first place. You’re letting this place and its solitude haunt you. Are you of a weak mind, girl? — You quickly understood what he was referring to, so to prove the point you denied the vile accusation. — So, I’d recommend you stop being childish and focus on your chores. Then everything will be alright, understood? 

— I’m not childish.

— Is that clear? — He repeated with much harsher tone.

You nodded slightly, barely visible, but enough to agree with the Lord.

— Now, go to your chamber, it’s getting late. 

His dark eyes carefully inspected your figure. You noticed him staring at your neckline for far too long than what was decent. His coarse hand swiped over yours when he was giving you the book. The cold metal of his signet felt like a thousand sharp stings. 

What kind of game was the Lord of Riley Manor playing with you? 

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈

The simmering sound of something powerful cracking snatched you from the peaceful dream. Every muscle in your body tensed and you sat up, holding the duvets tight when a thunder enlightened the black sky. Your heart beated fast within its cage of bones and breath shattered, anticipating.

Surely, thunderstorms can happen in late autumn, but you had never predicted it to happen this night. You felt uneasy, when another loud rumble made you scared. Then there was the banging window frame, somewhere in the long hallway and those horrible, horrible whistles of wind. They sound almost like human cries. 

At first you ducked down beneath the covers to shield yourself from the haunting sounds, thinking that the servants would take care of the open window. But minutes passed and they didn’t. 

With a lit candle on a metal holder you walked down the corridor, the flame being the only source of light. 

So when the wind coming through the window blew it off, you gasped loudly in panic – you barely saw your own hands in front of you!

— No, no, no…

You almost screamed when someone placed their hand upon your shoulder and then your mouth. A familiar figure was illuminated by another lighting. You could never mistake those blue eyes for another. 

— Shh, bonnie. It’s me — Johnny whispered, slowly uncovering your mouth. — I heard the fuss. You alright? 

— Actually, no… Did you hear those sounds?

Your hands squeezed the candle holder, when the gardener rushed to close the open window. You shivered, only a thin layer of nightgown covering your skin. You looked behind, checking if you were alone in the hallway. It certainly felt like you weren’t. It had to be the ghouls. 

— What sounds? 

— Howling, distressed cries? Wails? I-I heard them in my chamber. 

— You’re scared of the storms?

— No, that’s not-

— It’s okay to get spooked sometimes — he cut you off and grabbed your hand, slowly leading you back where you came from. — Come, let’s get you to your room.

— Oh, don’t belittle me. — You frowned upon him, yet you doubt he had seen it. You clung to his strong arm like a scared girl, not eager to get lost in the darkness again. 

— That was not my intention. Was just trying to comfort you.

When you finally reached your room, you couldn’t find the strength to let go of his hand. You interlocked your smooth and delicate fingers with his digits.

— Please, Johnny, don’t go. I’m… scared. 

— Of thunder? — He chuckled, petting the palm of your hand. 

— No, this place. Something is not right, please, I–

— It’s okay, you got scared a little, that’s all. You really want me to stay? 

You shuddered when taking a deep breath, calculating every possible consequence of this decision.

This was not right. 

— Yes.

When he stepped inside of the room, a rush of excitement flooded your veins and sank on the bottom of your stomach. Perhaps it was foolish and considered promiscuous inviting a man into your bedroom, but your body and heart desired otherwise. 

Johnny’s presence brought you comfort that you were longing for, his touch ascended your worries to the void and filled the troubled mind with pleasure. Nothing else.

Without a word spoken the two of you moved to the narrow, still warm bed and climbed under the sheets. Johnny captured your head between his hands and pulled in a gentle kiss on the lips. In his performance he was eager, sloppy yet charming. One of his palms gripped your hip through the crumpled material, just as you hooked one of your thighs over his hip. 

Foolish, foolish girl. 

— You’re so pretty — he whispered through the thick air as he pressed his forehead to yours. The curve of his nose filled your bridge as you looked at him from under your lashes. — The moment I first saw you getting out of the coach, that day you arrived, I knew I couldn’t ever let you go, bonnie.

Johnny swiftly moved on top of your lying form, holding that one thigh open. He continued the passionate assault on your lips, carefully rolling the hem of your nightgown up. 

Your body was on fire, everything inside of you screamed this was wrong, but somehow, the sinner inside of you called for him. For his touch, for his affection and his sweet, sweet nectar. 

Only when he started caressing your mound and its slit did you acknowledge where his hand wandered. And although his skin was rather tough  from all the years of hard work, his touch was gentle and surprisingly precise. You gasped lovely. It didn’t take that much of a hassle for him to make you wet and eager down there.

— Oh, Johnny… 

His name rolled off your tongue like honey, a music to his ears. It wasn’t long enough before he was grinding over your thigh with his excited and leaking length. 

— You are what we needed. A little warm sunshine, eh? 

Did you hear “we”?

But before you could ask him, he began stretching your cunt a little bit too carelessly to your liking. All his prudence was gone, as he got drunk on your scent and how you felt around him. Your hand gripped his bicep and your glossy eyes went wide like a scared doe. 

— Johnny, Johnny, slow — you breathed out through muffled whine and the man atop of you stilled. — Slow, please.

He could feel how your heart pumped within your veins. 

— I’m sorry, bonnie. Let me kiss it better — the gardener leaned down to pepper your face with kisses. And when he got to the sweet spot on your neck, you giggled — shh, we don’t want to wake him, don’t we? 

Obviously he meant Lord Simon. 

He set a steady yet bearable rhythm as his hips rolled into you in waves. His chest was close to yours, brushing sensitive nipples through the thin fabric of a nightgown. You were pushed into the cushioned pillow, hair splayed beneath like roots of the ancient tree. 

You felt so lightheaded yet so good at the same time. Sparkling, increasing sensation tickling the nerves and blinding the vision. Johnny was all you could experience in that moment. He was the only thing you could smell, touch and taste, when he was trying to steal the air from your lungs. You fell into the abyss of pleasure quickly, all the latest worries fading away.

And the horribly loud storm? Didn’t matter at that moment. All thunders quietened down and the entire world could be burning in flames and ashes, but you wouldn’t even notice. 

The man moaned deeply from his throat, when he got closer to his peak, hips frantically snapping against yours. You barely managed to entangle your shaking fingers within his brown hair, right above the nape of the lover’s neck. With one more final thrust both of you indulged sweet, sweet pleasure.

Johnny stayed until the morning came, just as he promised. With an expression of pure ecstasy and lust, you snuggled into his chest. He wrapped a pair of arms around you and for the first time since the arrival you felt at peace sleeping in the manor. The candle remained snuffed out. 

In the morning of the following day, you went to the city with Mrs. Garrick to receive the remaining letters and a few other errands. You and the cook split to settle matters quickly. 

The post office was a small place with barely anyone inside but a friendly looking old lady behind the counter. 

— Good morning, I’d like to receive the mail for Lord Riley.

You put on a polite smile, walking closer to the counter and removing the bonnet from your head.

— So you are the new housekeeper, I’ve heard about you. It’s been a while since someone got his letters, guess he still ain’t leaving the house?

— No, ma’am. Lord is rather… — you paused, searching for the right description of your employer — a private person. 

— Always had been, even before he went to war. But oh, that was years ago, I hope he softened at least a little. Such a sad and grumpy boy he was. 

There was something in the way she phrased it that made your body still. Blood got so heated up anyone that touched you could feel it on the outside. Did she mean the previous Lord, father of Simon Riley? But that couldn’t be the case, this title was newly found when he returned from the war. So what was this all about? 

— Forgive me, you said “years ago”? How long ago was it? You see, I’m not from here and the Lord doesn’t share much about himself.

— Of course he does not and do not expect otherwise — she waved with her wrinkled finger, before reaching for the bile of letters from the shelf behind her. — It was around twenty five years ago, Lord Riley was the same age as my son when he joined the Queen’s army.

— I see. 

You were confused, extremely confused. The blonde Lord with scarred face did not look a year past his thirties, how could this be that he enlisted quarter of century ago? At that moment you felt so horrified by this anomaly. 

Through the rest of the day and the day that followed, the old maiden aunt’s words echoed inside of your head:

— I am surprised anyone actually was willing to take that job. Lord Riley is a… forgive me for speaking so freely, but he’s a strange man who abandoned the word of God years ago. Why do you think he got pushed away from the post earlier? 

He was…? 

You didn’t look the same into the depths of the windows of the Manor, nor did you stare at the dark corner of the hall. Every sound of wood creaking sent shivers down your spine. They were coming. 

Oh God, have you gone mad?  

𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐈𝐈𝐈

You stirred the porridge over and over again, watching as the gooey mush slipped from the spoon down to its den. Despite the tremendous amount of honey you added it still tasted rather bitter this morning. 

— Did you finish?

— Excuse me?

You tightened the hold over the silver spoon when Lord’s hoarse voice brought you back to the eerie reality. 

— The book. I asked if you finished the book? — Blonde man raised his thick brow in question, curiously looking at you from his own plate. 

— Oh, yes, yes. I enjoyed it, however I found Winzy’s life quite miserable to be honest. And tragic.

— Why so? 

— Well, he lost the woman he loved so dearly and then had to continue living eternally without her. Imagine how lonely his life had to be, when he must have outlived every single friend he had made. 

— If he was so miserable as you say, then why wouldn’t he just end his suffering and join the woman he claimed to love? Maybe he didn’t really care after all. — Simon leaned back in his chair, exhaling loudly. — I sometimes wonder what his life would look like if he had given the potion to Bertha. A pair of immortals walking this earth, would they become some sort of Gods?

— Doesn’t the thought of living so long… make you feel… I don’t know, unease , my Lord?

— No. I’ve seen worse things than an old man. Those who fear death might go to extremes just to avoid their end.  

— We were not made to live forever, don’t we? We should not play God.

— There is no God, sweet girl. Only sinners and fools. Those who play and those who lose. Are you a loser?

— No, Sir. 

His dark eyes glowed in a mysterious manner as the silence fell between you two. The man was bright and had seen right through you. 

— Good. If we speak of the matter of sinners, I’d like to make one thing clear.

The Lord stood up from his seat, putting the white napkin on the table. His figure loomed closer toward his housekeeper and finally leaned on one of his hands over you. You could feel his breath on your neck, his closeness made you shiver. 

— You’ve been living under my roof and by now you should know I despite disobedience and liars. 

— I am no liar, Sir. 

— Perhaps not, but you hide things from me. Captain Price spoke of you in high regard - a well behaved woman from a respected family, yet you’ve proven yourself to be rather promiscuous. You even ensnared poor Johnny, didn’t you? 

That… was straight forward. 

— I did no such thing!

Suddenly he wrapped one of his strong hands over the nape of your neck, causing you to tense and lean away from his touch. The man began drawing circles over your skin with his thumb, almost like he tried to soothe your shattered nerves. You gasped at the sudden force he had put you in place.

— Watch yourself and think twice about answering again. 

— It was mutual.

— Mutual? — He repeated mockingly. — Johnny boy would fuck anything that moves in ten miles radius. And it just happened to be you. 

— How dare you speak like this? — You turned your head to look him in the face. When you did, you saw the insolent smirk painted over his pale face. — He is at least decent towards me, he’s kind and caring. We did nothing wrong. Why do you care?

Simon leaned down right next to your face. He continued to stare you down, his brows narrowed in deep disappointment. 

— You’ve built a wall between us, sweet girl. Yeah, you did. If there was something you ever needed, you should have come directly to me, your Lord. And I can assure you, Johnny did not give what you craved and desired. 

Inconveniently your face changed its colour to vivid blush, when he suggested such things. Your stomach felt like one, big knot twisting its way to get stuck in your oesophagus. Was that it? Was this how he perceived you? Was he jealous of the fling between you and Johnny or was he simply cruel?

Lord Riley let go of your pretty neck and caressed your cheek with the knuckles of his fingers. Just like one would touch a lover and another – a pet. 

— You’re frightened. Are you scared of me, is that it? Be obedient and you won’t have to be. Or do you really want to be punished so badly?

You quickly denied by shaking your head to the sides to which he only hummed. His weight shifted behind your back and a trail of footsteps could be heard as the Lord of the house left the dining room.

A moment passed before you caught yourself staring at the bowl of now cold porridge, slowly digesting the conversation you just held with him, your Master. 

The burden upon your poor, poor mind has overwhelmed you and the realisation of a potential madness weighed heavily upon you. Nothing made sense. Not a single logical explanation has come to light to soothe your fears. 

After those couple of weeks the staff and maids stayed in the shadows, Lord’s age did not match the tales of his youth and those horrible sounds you continued to hear at night? Ugh, they kept you awake, causing dark bags to show under your pretty eyes. 

The manor itself seemed to have poisoned you. Was that it? The reason? You knew you had to leave the house as soon as possible. You had to…

Oh God, what have you gotten yourself into? 

That night was no different to those before it. Wind blowing through the crack in the window’s frame, wheezing and whistling. Your bedsheets are exceptionally cold this time, causing you to shiver and tremble. The candle is still burning, a metal holder standing on the table. 

When you finally manage to curl up under the sheets and doze away slightly, you hear this agonising, scary wails. 

Wait. No. 

Those are no wails.

I-Is someone moaning?

You raised up to a sitting position in a half asleep state. Loose strands of hair stick to the forehead as you continue to listen for more sounds. 

Those seem to be almost human-like. Maybe they are? 

You throw the sheets to the side and crawl out of the bed. You’re frustrated and moody, close to tears from the exhaustion of not being able to sleep. Before you left your chamber, you grabbed that damn candle light and took a deep breath. 

Your bare feet left no traces behind as you walked down the dark hallway. The heart in your chest was about to burst, obviously you were still scared of the dark and what possibly lurks within it. The hem of your nightgown sweeped the wooden flooring that cracked underneath your weight. 

Then, you heard those moans again, louder. You were getting closer. Following the awful sounds you finally get to its source. You knew where your feet happened to take you to and that you shouldn’t have dared to enter this chamber. Nonetheless, you did. The shroud of mystery had to be torn. 

You slowly creeped towards the half-opened, heavy doors and sneaked inside where the darkness swallowed almost everything. Single candles had been lit across the room, creating an ascended ambience. You should have turned around and left, you understood that perfectly well. However, you wanted answers to all the secrets of the manor and its habitants. 

Behind the wooden screen there was a large bed and two figures sitting on its edge. Gardener who was completely bare and whining into Lord’s shoulder, drool leaving the corner of his mouth. Thighs spread open and eyes closed tight. And there he was – Lord Simon dressed in trousers and loose, white chemise. His big hand was tightly wrapped around Johnny’s angry cock, pulling and twisting the sensitive skin. They seemed to be enjoying themselves as Johnny whined pitifully again at the sensation. 

At least now you finally knew what those sounds were exactly – that stormy night Johnny came to you, were they also together? You couldn’t move and kept standing close to the screen, eyes transfixed at the scene you witnessed. So many emotions washed over you – were you embarrassed, scared or even jealous? The dots and the facts slowly began connecting. You had to make haste and leave this room. This house. You knew you had to get away tonight, before things would escalate. Oh God, you couldn’t properly breathe, your face and lungs felt like they were on fire!

— Looks like we have company — the coarse voice of a blonde man made your skin cover in goosebumps. He stared directly at you. — Want to join us? 

Unknowingly you made a muffled whine of embarrassment as you swiftly turned around and started to walk away in a hurry. As if you were in some kind of trance, your body going automatically. You rolled up the long hem of your nightgown not to stumble upon it as you found yourself on the corridor again. 

Christ! You forgot to take the candle with you! 

The breathing became difficult as you had to navigate somehow in the complete darkness. A part of your heart felt betrayed by the erotic scenery you just witnessed, although you couldn’t completely understand why. You and Johnny were a one time thing, why would you feel sorry for him bedding someone else? 

Probably because this “someone else” was your mutual employer.

There were heavy footsteps behind you, they were getting closer and closer. He was right behind the nosy intruder. You tried to fasten your pace, blindly going forward, hoping to find a staircase. Then it would lead you downstairs and outside of the building. But before you even made it halfway to the stairs, you bumped into a slim table standing by the wall. The vase standing on it fell and broke as the painful impact of the table's corner digging into your abdomen sent you to the ground. 

When it was clear you were within his grasp, you tried to crawl further away from him, trying to escape somehow. But Simon was faster and he collected you from the floor. 

— Come, before you’re gonna hurt yourself. — Lord Riley said as he managed to lift up and throw you over his broad shoulder with little effort.

You tried to break free by kicking like a goat and punching him with your curled fist. But how could the strength of a city girl ever compare to the former soldier’s? You groaned, you kicked and you cursed. Nothing could have prepared you for the harsh slap that Simon planted on your bottom. It stung, causing you to go still over his shoulder. And when he spanked you again you bit your lower lip, trying to confide any pathetic whines. 

— Should have whipped you long ago. Maybe it would teach you some respect. 

— I didn't mean to interrupt, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, my Lord!

— Oh, you happened to join us just in time. 

Lord Riley took you back to his bedroom and tossed you down onto his remarkably large bed. This time, he locked the doors from the inside and removed the key from the lock. You were stuck there with them. You managed to back up a little, before Johnny reached you. He sat at your side and carefully extended his hand towards your petrified face, a curtain of hair covering your pretty features.

— It’s alright, bonnie. Calm down. 

— I don’t want to be a part of this. — You stated, kneeling on the bed sheets splayed beneath. Simon stood tall with his hands crossed in front of you and the gardener. Johnny gently began to caress your back in a soothing manner. 

You were caught red handed, busted the only chance to run away and now you were more than positive he would never let you go. You tried to conceal the fears and shame, because now was the time to uncover the truth. 

— What is this? — You asked with a shaking voice, eyes transfixed on the two figures of men, going from the blonde to the brunette. — What’s going on? Please, let’s forget about this. I’ll go back to bed. I–I…

— You already are in one — Lord took a step forward and caught your jaw. He yanked your head up, forcing you to look at him. — Have you finally figured it out? I directly gave you clues. Come on, you’re a smart one. Put the pieces together. 

How could you come up with a logical conclusion? Everything you gathered through the weeks could be interpreted as a mad woman’s nonsense. But you weren’t ill, you were aware of the games going around you.

— You’re much older than you look, that’s what I know. And that you’ve done horrifying, unforgivable things during your service. Lord– Simon — you corrected yourself — what have you done? 

— Think. Harder. 

His patience was running thin. Simon spoke through his bared teeth. 

— Oh, God. Are you a part of this? — You looked at Johnny, before the blonde man caught your throat and lifted you on your feet again. 

— Don’t be harsh on her! She doesn’t know better. She needs to learn. — The Scotsman said to your defence, narrowing his thick brows and scrambling the bridge of his nose. All this time he was sitting comfortably on the bed, absolutely not bothered with his nakedness.  

— There is no God here, sweet girl, I already told you. Only me, Johnny and well, you. I’ve been kind enough to share a piece of me with you and that’s how you repay your Lord? In such childish, pathetic disobedience? Fucking nosy, aren’t we? Or just eager? 

The tall, bulky man reached with his other hand and forcefully cupped your crotch through the thin material of the nightgown, causing you to wriggle in his hold. He prodded against your slit with his finger, toying with you, testing the limits and your responses. And you were very responsive. 

In that moment you thought about the choice of literature Simon had given you. The main plotline revolved around immortality and its consequences, which would somehow explain… some things. Yet what about God? Why did Simon detest him so much?

— God turns his back on people like me and once you sin for us, he will turn on you too — he mockingly snorted, before continuing your torment. — If he didn’t already. 

You tried to tear from his hold, shaking yourself and pushing his chest away. Lord Riley stood like a mountain, not moving an inch. In a quick movement he twirled you around and took a firm hold of the nightgown material at your back. Then you heard how loudly the stitches broke and the teared material slowly fell to the ground, exposing your much alive and young flesh.

Before you realised you were completely bare and managed to cover yourself somehow, Simon grabbed your arms behind your back so you couldn’t move further. 

— I think he sent you to us as a gift — the man leaned against your shoulder, whispering into your ear. — Yeah, that’s what you are – a sweet, innocent present. Isn’t she cute, Johnny? 

Brunette finally stood up from the bed and gently caressed your hip. He was standing so close, you could feel his pulsating cock and its leaking tip on your supple thigh.

— Aye, she is lovely. 

— Have you tasted her, boy? That night you sneaked under her covers? — To which the dark haired one denied. — Well, I think you should compensate the little lady, no? Help her calm down, you know how women can get… hysterical. 

— W-Wait, wait, no, n-no… 

Simon sat down on the edge of the bed and placed you between his massive legs. One of his hands wrapped around your fragile, swan like neck and the other cupped your left breast. Meanwhile, Johnny got down onto his knees and moved closer to the two of you and before he dived between your thighs he looked into the dark irises of his Lord. Not yours. 

— He eats like I starve him beforehand. You’re gonna find out, lovely. 

You tried to squeeze your legs shut, but the gardener kept them spread wide so he could lean closer to your cunt. And when you tried anything like moving or wriggling away, Simon would pull or twist one of your nipples causing you to yelp. 

— She’s really pretty — the Scot said, parting your lower lips apart. The shame washed over you, causing your head to turn into Simon’s shoulder. — Never could have pulled such one while in the army. 

Then he flatten his tongue over your most sensitive parts and started dragging it along the slit. You entangled one of your hands within his brown strands of hair, on top of his head pulling slightly. When his lips sucked at your clit you finally moaned, releasing some tension and anger within you.

— Bird’s already singing.

Simon purred into your ear, nuzzling his eyebrow ridge into your head. The feelings and sensations you were experiencing overflowed your system. The man you trusted as your lover was assaulting your cunt with his mouth and the Lord you were supposed to work for was enjoying the show. You pressed your eyes shut, trying not to cry. But you finally broke and the salty streams began to run down your rosy cheeks. 

— You think she deserves to cum, Johnny? — To which the kneeling men nodded vigorously. — Use your words, stupid mutt. 

— Please, Si, let her. Look how stressed she is. Poor thing, she might need a few more.

— A few- Ah! M-More?! — You squealed again, when someone rolled your nipples between their fingers. 

When your peak neared, you tried to turn your head away and hide. You didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing your face in pure bliss. Simon held your head against his sternum, pressing your forehead backwards. 

You felt like you were on fire, orange flames licking your fingers, your breasts, your inner thighs. 

— That’s it, good girl. 

And when the knot finally bursted, a wave of painful, white pleasure washed over you. The orgasm was so strong, it blinded your senses for a short moment in which the men flipped you around the bed. 

Johnny was supporting your shoulders and your head, while Lord was stirring in front of you. He threw your legs over his thighs and scooped closer to your still wet with saliva crotch. And not only with that…

The new wave of panic overwhelmed you when Simon began to undo his trousers. He was taller and bigger than the gardener in every aspect, you were scared. Taking two lovers, without marital vows? Does this make you a whore? But you didn’t want this!

— No, no, no… — You weeped sadly, trying to crawl away, before Johnny began to caress your head. His grip was tight and successfully held you in place. 

— After tonight, we’ll be joined as one, bonnie. Just us, here in this house, forever. 

— But I-I don’t want this, Johnny! Please, let me go. Let me go.

You repeated as Simon pulled you by the hips closer to him. His now exposed, thick cock stiffened over your soft abdomen, leaking some precum. 

— Shh, Simon knows what’s best for us. He knows. 

When the tip of his length caved his way inside of your warm, silky walls, he was at least decent enough to take it slow. If you felt full during that first night spent with Johnny, this time it seemed even fuller. With his flesh, Simon filled you to the brim, still not even moving. The man saw your struggle to relax, so he leaned down and sucked the thin and delicate skin below your jaw. 

Meanwhile Johnny brushed your hair backwards and with the other hand he caressed your ribs. Somehow they knew how to press each individual button to make you docile enough. 

They learned how to tame you. 

Only then, Simon began to move his hips, thrusting slowly and continuously fastening the pace. His movements made you sway along Johnny’s knees. Your breasts bounced within the rhythm and your eyes searched for them through the half absent haze. 

You got lost in the moment, every breath merged with another. Hands roaming over your body, whose owners you couldn’t really assign, the burning stretch in your cunt that began to lube itself to ease the friction. 

The pleasure that crushed over your sensible thinking, put you in an almost ascended state. You were still sobbing, when Simon fastened his pace and his cock penetrated you deeper, kissing your cervix. You were still trembling, when the two men started making out above you. Their lips crushed in a vulgar exposition of their affection.

— Can’t you see that you’re lost without us, lovely? — The Lord’s voice shaken as he was getting closer to his climax. He leaned down and kissed you, almost stealing your breath away. 

— Wouldn’t last without us, would you, lass? 

They continuously somewhat mocked you and each time after they did, they cooed at you or leaned down to “kiss it better”. By the time Simon finished inside of you, groaning loudly, he spilled the warm seed inside your walls to, as Lord claim, “make you theirs”. 

— Don’t worry, we got you now. We’re gonna take care of you. Just let us… get familiar first. — Johnny said calmly, when the blonde was massaging your tense things. You knew they weren’t yet sated. 

That night you happened to lay over one of Simon’s bulky arms like a pillow. He caged your body from behind, his chest pressing tightly against your spine and Johnny laid on his side in front of you. Through a half awakened state you managed to look through the window that faced the treeline. An edge of forest shrouded in thick, morning mist. 

Tonight you finally were able to put the pieces together. However it was too late anyways.

The house seemed to be stuck in time and space, so were its residents. The wind sweeping through the draughty windows fills the lungs of the great manor. Old, wooden flooring creaks and the glass strain within its frames. Every aspect of the building stays the same, untouched and reclusive for many years to come. 

You finally let the heavy eyelids close. The sun was rising.

Obviously very inspired by Ghost's music and Crimson Peak, here is Spotify playlist ⟶ 𝕏

[mysticficti0n]

hiyaaa I love the Colby fic and I was wondering if you could do a short one of like y/n gong through a break up but she doesn't tell him or sam (and could Kat be in it- they're all roomates sorta thing) and she doesn't rlly come out her room and they get worried until Colby goes up and she breaks and he comforts her- like fluffy stuff plz

omg yes this sounds so cutie so ofcc!!! I don't know if its great as I'm very tired but I hope you guys enjoy, It feels good to be writing for someone new but I do still love Tokio Hotel !! I did a very quick proof read but if I missed anything sorry !!

Broken Heart

･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

warnings- ColbyBrockxFem/Reader, swearing, fluff, comfort, best friends, care, reader is cheated on

words- 1.7k

Y/n's POV

"I don't understand why you're so angry Y/n?" Justin looked to me, my eyes narrowed "she was just a fri-"

"Shut the fuck up! you keep saying she was a friend but friends don't fuck each other" I screamed- it was killing me, my boyfriend of 6 years cheating on me with his 'friend', his friend who is his phone had hearts next to her name, every message had a 'xxx' at the end, winky faces and peaches shared until one day...today, I go to his apartment 5 minuets from mine to see him in bed, his hands laying on the red-heads hips

"I-it's just a miss understanding Y/n please!" he begged but I couldn't forgive him- not for this "look let me apologise and we can re-start"

"yeah after 6 whole years? good idea Justin let me just forget everything huh?" I yelled, his eyes dropped he knew I wasn't going to take it "just leave"

"no- Y/n I can make it up to you" he pleaded again and again, hands reaching for mine but I pulled away, backing from him

"get the fuck out of my house Justin" my voice was low "go through the fucking door and don't come back- get out" I watched him give me one more look and he left, leaving me with the haunting memories of him with someone else, those 6 years down the drain. The pain settled in quicker then expected, my chest heaved up and down as I sobbed into my pillow as I stared into the images of me and him dotted around my room, the light from the day slowly faded leaving me in darkness, only figures in my room kept me company, my face ached, my whole body did, especially my head so I decided to sleep, sleep would keep me safe, sleep was quiet, sleep was calm.

Kat's POV

Me, Sam and Colby walked into the house, it was silent, no music or tv playing which was unusual if Y/n and Justin were in "think they went out or something I mean its 9- might be like their date night?" Sam spoke putting his keys onto the kitchen island

"Maybe... I'll check up stairs" I smiled quickly leaving the two to find Y/n, I got to her door and pushed it open to see her room pitch black, not any of her candles lit, or lamp on "Y/n?" I whispered and a body shifted under the covers "Y/n, you okay?" I spoke coming in a little more to her room

"fine, just tired" she hummed turning over facing away from me in the doorway

"oh okay- where's Justin?" I asked, most days he's in the house, I mean he was meant to move in with us in a few weeks

"I dunno" she answered in a yawn, I oh'ed, the mood didn't feel right but I decided to leave her in peace, I closed the door and made my way into mine and Sam's room, he was sat on the bed flicking through his phone until he saw me walk in

"she okay?" he asked

"think so- said she is and she's tired" he nodded looking back to his phone "Justin isn't here though" his gaze flicked back up to which I just nodded

"he basically lives here, why wouldn't he be here? and its a Saturday night and ever since they got together he was here every weekend" I shrugged climbing in bed next to the blonde, resting my head on him

"who knows"

The night went by, and the three of us were up in the kitchen, the clock read '12:48pm' and Y/n was still In her room, still in silence, I told Colby what I had told Sam and he seemed just as confused, we decided to order some dinner, just something small and ordered Y/n some too, I was sure something had happened but... maybe I was thinking to much into it

"foods here" Sam spoke bring it in, Colby was half way up the stairs as he said he was going to go get his hoodie from his room "Colby grab Y/n" the other called getting a thumbs up by him

Colby's POV

I jumped up the rest of the stairs going to Y/n's room first, it was weird for her not to be up, she's always awake before me at least but the house was just missing her, I knocked twice before hearing a voice murmur a small 'come in' I pushed it open and saw her body curled in her coves, curtains pulled shut, and tissues thrown onto the floor "hey- you okay?" I asked coming over to the side of the bed where it was empty. Her eyes flickered open and looked up to me

"yeah- think I'm getting Ill" she hummed, sitting herself up, I looked to her face and saw her nose was red and eyes glossy "just a cold"

"hm yeah- we've got dinner down stairs, got you a burger and fries" I spoke as I watched her, she nodded pulling her sheets away and crawling out the side she walked past me and straight to the stairs, I followed forgetting my hoodie and just went to her side, I could see her clearly now, mascara around her eyes along with dark circles, her hair wet on one side, the usual dark lipstick she wore, smudged against her cheek

"hey Y/n" Kat smiled passing her a bag of food "feeling better?"

"no don't feel it- thanks for the food but I think I'll eat up stairs- don't wanna make you guys sick" she spoke, her voice sounding gravelly and tired

"Y/n we don't care, come sit on the couch with us- we can watch a film or something- we have yours and Justins favourite, Tita-" Sam went to continue until the girl beside me face dropped

"I don't wanna sit down here" was the last thing she snapped before hurrying away and her door slammed, I looked to the others who just stood stunned...

the week carried on, time passing by as it does and still no sight of Y/n, I was getting worried she's never like this, I sat alone down stairs as Kat and Sam had gone out somewhere and the only thing that went through my mind was her, I couldn't help the fact I was thinking of her, Y/n's never in her room if someones in the house or if she is in her room- someones with her

but why is she acting off- everything was so different, I couldn't help but be nosey, it was all in good intention of course, thats what I kept telling myself as I stood ear to the door of her room just listening; her voice mumbled incoherent words, small little cries leaving her every so often, my body relaxed a little to much and I ended up falling against the door "Colby?" her voice called 'fuck' I cursed to myself before pushing her door open again "were you fucking listening through my door?" her tone was angry, a cry halting in her throat

"Look I'm sorry but I'm worried about you" I said, I didn't want to keep it from her, I was worried, scared even "you didn't even eat your food" I spoke looking to the bag still sat scrunched on her desk "what happened?"

"I'm fine Colby okay? For days people keep fucking asking me if I'm okay and I fucking am" she ragged the sheet over her "just get the fuck out"

"Y/n you're not fucking fine- I've known you long enough to know this isn't how you act all the time" I didn't mean for my voice to raise at her but I was annoyed but not with her, she was going through something and didn't want to admit it "what happened" I said, my voice stern. The covers flipped from her body, her eyes welled with tears, face wet

"He fucking cheated on me- There better? you know now, my boyfriend of 6 years cheated on me because I'm not good enough for him and I can't think straight, I feel sick all the goddamn time and all I have every hour is 'you okay Y/n?' No I'm fucking not" her voice broke, the sobs that once heaved in her chest being released

"I'm sorry" I spoke, coming next to her bed, she looked up to me and her face snapped, pearls of tears slipping down her cheeks

"Why wasn't I good enough, Colbs?" she whispered, her voice choked with sorrow, her head buried in her hands. I couldn't bear to see her in such pain. Without thinking, my arms enveloped her fragile frame, pulling her close to my chest as I settled on the edge of her mattress.

"You're more than good enough, Y/n – I promise you that," I reassured her, my voice a soothing balm against the storm of emotions raging within her. Y/n's face found refuge in the curve of my neck, and I could feel the warmth of her tears seeping into my skin. It broke my heart to witness her suffering. "Did he do anything to hurt you?" I asked gently, my concern deepening as I held her tighter. She shook her head, her breath hitching between sobs.

"He... he just said she was a friend, but then I walked in on them having sex at his apartment," she confessed, the pain evident in every word. My fingers traced gentle patterns along her back, offering what little comfort I could. "I just don't understand why," she continued, her eyes red and swollen from the tears. I nodded, listening intently as she poured her heart out.

"He's just stupid, Y/n. You're nothing but perfect," I whispered, my hand tenderly cupping her jaw, guiding her to look into my eyes. "He's the one who's made the biggest mistake of his life by letting someone as amazing as you slip away."

She nodded, her tear-stained eyes reflecting a mix of vulnerability and gratitude. In that moment, as I held her close, I vowed to be her pillar of support – a reminder that despite the pain, she was deserving of love and happiness. Together, we would navigate through the shadows, and I would do everything in my power to mend the shattered pieces of her heart.

"thanks Colby" Y/n smiled, hugging herself back into my chest

[peachdues]

COALESCENCE — RANDOM SNIPPETS

Levi x F!Reader • secret pregnancy AU

I feel bad I haven’t updated anything for Coalescence recently — so have some random snippets from Part I. I will return to Coalescence once Part III of my Demon Slayer fic, In the Netherwood, is complete.

CW: MDNI • mentions of injury • pregnancy • NSFW sneak peek at the end • Hange being Hange • Hange also finds out that Levi x Reader have been fucking and Reader is now pregnant • Levi eats pussy like a god

Death was far quieter than you’d imagined. It was dark, perhaps even peaceful. An endless oblivion amidst which you floated without form; weightless.

When you’d lost unconsciousness against the rubble that was once the Main Street of Trost, you’d accepted the very real — and likely — possibility that you would not wake up again.

In your youth, death had been nothing more than an abstract concept; something that happened only to the elderly or those who caught illnesses that could not be treated, or even to those who ventured beyond the Walls.

As a soldier within the Survey Corps, however, you’d learned that death was as certain as the sun even if you might not live long enough to see it rise.

And, having spent the last eight years of your life fighting on behalf of the Corps even as your comrades dropped like flies around you, you knew you’d long overstayed your welcome in this world overrun by titans.

So when everything had begun to fade to black as you laid broken on chunks of stone and brick, you thought death had finally come to collect on the debt you owed. You supposed you were grateful that your final moments were not spent struggling in the grip of a titan as it brought you to its open, salivating mouth.

Really, it wasn’t such a bad way to go, dying from injuries sustained in an explosion — even if the explosion had been caused by the stupidity of one of your own. You could make peace with it; you almost had.

Almost.

The one, nagging thought you’d had as the world around you melted into dark oblivion had been of him — of your dark-haired, brooding boyfriend, who was likely miles away from Trost and utterly unaware of the disaster that had befallen the district; that had befallen you.

Levi, you’d known, was going to be pissed when he found out you’d gotten yourself killed, after he’d told you, so many times, to avoid doing exactly that.

As much as you’d hoped he could find it within himself to forgive you, you knew he wouldn’t, and truthfully, you didn’t think you could forgive yourself. You knew how every face of your fallen comrades haunted the Captain’s waking hours — how their screams plagued his precious few hours of sleep.

And now, it seemed, you would only be adding yourself to the festering wound he carried on his heart; so no, you probably didn’t deserve his forgiveness anyways.

It would’ve been nice to see him, one last time — you would’ve taken one of his fierce verbal lashings, if it meant hearing his voice one last time.

There was nothing you could do, however but resign yourself to death’s beckoning embrace, to fade into the nether and dissolve among the stars —

A buzz broke the quiet black of your oblivion.

You frowned; the buzz seemed to grow louder with each dull thud of your heart. You wanted to bat it away, make the silence come back and sink into the calm stupor you’d been floating in once more.

But the buzz was incessant, growing louder until you realized it was not a buzz at all, but voices. Many voices, speaking over one another in hissed, urgent tones.

“Get me a sponge, I can’t see where all this blood is coming from —“

“— Did you see her bloodwork? She’s at least ten weeks along, she’ll need to be discharged immediately —“

“That’s assuming the fetus has even survived —“

“Shush, I think she’s coming to; someone get Squad Leader Hange —

The voices melted together above you, their grate making the ache in your head grow steadily more piecing with each passing breath.

With far more effort than you wanted to believe it would take, your eyes slowly opened, struggling to adjust against the harsh overhead light of the Trost infirmary.

That light, however, was quickly blocked out by a shadowy figure leaning over you, far too close to your face for you own comfort. Your eyelids fluttered as the figure above you sharpened into focus, revealing a pair of large brown eyes blinking owlishly down at you.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, soldier!” The unmistakable voice of your Squad Leader chirped. “Glad to have you with us!”

Your lips, dry and cracked parted to answer her, but you could do no more than respond with a strangled, pained groan.

The surface upon which you’d been lain — a cot, by the feel of it — dipped as Hange Zoe climbed atop it, legs carefully straddling your hips to keep their weight off you, as the Squad Leader leaned in close to your face.

“Squad Leader — you can’t —“ a nurse tried.

Her admonition fell on deaf ears. “You had me worried there, Y/N,” Hange’s began, fingers peeling back your eyelids to check the dilation of your pupils.

“You were in rough shape when Braus and another cadet pulled you free from that toppled building.”

You tried to ask how long you’d been out, but your mouth struggled to form around the shape of the words. Instead, all that came out was a garbled string of nonsense.

“You have a concussion, that’s for sure,” Hange said smoothly, fingers prodding at a tender spot against your temple.

“But that’s not the most important thing — Y/N, did you know you’re pregnant?”

That single word broke through the addled fog clogging your head.

“Preg—?” You managed, your tongue thick in your mouth.

Hange appeared to interpret the furrow of your eyebrows as a lack of comprehension rather than shock. “Yes, preg-nant. There is a small clump of cells growing inside you that will become a child —“

You grimaced. “N-no,” you tried. “I had — an implant —“

You heard the nurses desperately plea with your Squad Leader to get them down from where they’d perched upon your cot, but Hange paid them no mind.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, doll, but they aren’t always one hundred percent effective. It’s rare, but it happens.”

Under normal circumstances, you would have cursed your luck. Of course you’d end up being the exception.

“I can’t say I’m excited for you,” Hange continued, though it appeared they had been finally persuaded to remove themselves from your cot. The Squad Leader deftly stepped away from you, coming around the edge of your bed to take a clipboard from one of the nurses.

“You’re my best Scout; your pregnancy means I have to discharge you. No exceptions.”

You struggled to keep your eyes open, unconsciousness creeping in once more. “Is — am I still —?”

Hange looked up from your medical sheet, eyes softening. “Yes, Y/N, though you’re not entirely out of the clear, yet.”

You didn’t know whether to be relieved or not; part of you relaxed at the assurance, but until you could talk to Levi —

Levi.

Fuck, Levi.

You hadn’t known of your — condition — until mere seconds before, which meant Levi sure as hell had no clue that your birth control had failed, and you were now carrying irrefutable proof of the relationship the two of you had concealed for the last year.

Levi.

You needed to tell him, and fast; before it was too late to address the problem.

Levi.

There was nothing you could do at that moment as the world around you began to dim once more. Try as you might, your body was unable to fight off the sleep that crept in and began to tug you under, despite the urgency with which you thought of your need to get in contact with the Captain as soon as possible.

Levi. You needed to talk to Levi.

But the Trost infirmary slipped away, the voices of nurses and of Hange fading to the same buzz which had brought you back to consciousness the first time.

Before you slipped below the waves of sleep, you heard your Squad Leader’s lone gasp.

“Motherfucker-“

—-

(Levi’s POV)

Levi’s eccentric comrade emerged from the small examination room, a pensive look on their face.

Levi hadn’t given much thought as to what he would do if he ran into any of his colleagues among the upper ranks of the Scouts. His mind had been exclusively focused on her, and the news that had shaken him to his core.

He remained pressed against the corridor wall, for once uncertain whether he should make his presence known or stay still until Hange wandered away, leaving him to slip into the examination room unseen.

But the section leader had always had a peculiar sense as to when he was near, and so with a slight sense of foreboding, Levi watched as Hange’s head turned towards him, eyes as round and as bright as an owl’s.

“What a surprise it is to see you here, Levi.”

Levi kept his features neutral. “Is it?”

Hange’s expression was inscrutable. “What a day, huh?” They folded their arms across their chest and leaned against the doorway leading to her — to Y/N.

“A titan breach, gross incompetence by the Garrison causing even more casualties and destruction,” Hange counted off the day’s events on her fingers. “And to top it all off, the best scout on my squad not only got injured because of said incompetence, but she’s also pregnant.”

It took everything in him to keep his voice even and monotone. “Sounds like you’ve got quite the headache. The paperwork to discharge a scout is tedious at best.”

Levi brushed imaginary lint off the shoulder of his cape. “Better go get a move on.”

A strange smirk tugged at the corner of Hange’s mouth.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything about who the prospective father is, have you?”

There was a beat. “No.”

Hange’s smirk turned into a grin. “Poor thing has a concussion — it’s small, don’t worry,” and Levi knew his face must have tightened. “But the funniest thing happened while the poor girl was coming in and out of consciousness.”

Levi’s fists clenched slightly at the feral glint in their eye.

“It was almost hard to hear what she was muttering, the poor dear,” Hange finally kicked off the door jam and moved to saunter past her raven-haired comrade.

“I didn’t realize you were on a first-name basis with my scout, Levi.”

Levi’s voice dropped to a near whisper as they brushed by him. “Hange.”

“It seems the pregnancy is still viable,” the section commander said quietly.

He couldn’t stifle the faint exhale of relief which left him at their reassurance. For as shocking as the news of her pregnancy was, Levindidnt want to think about the mental toll a miscarriage could have wrought upon you.

Or himself, for that matter.

“You can go in,” Hange’s voice interrupted is slight reprieve. “I’ll make sure no one comes this way for at least a few minutes. But you can’t stay long — Erwin wants to see us.”

—-

“Well, congratulations!” Hange boomed, clapping the Captain sharply on the shoulder. “Good on you for working to restore the human race!”

A muscle in Levi’s jaw ticked. “Hange—“

“I guess the moniker ‘humanity’s strongest’ doesn’t just apply to your combat skills —“

“Hange.”

“— I’m talking super swimmers —“

“Oi. Four-eyes.” Levi pulled on the eccentric squad leader’s ponytail to command their attention. “Enough.”

—-

(NSFW bonus)

“You’ve gotta speak up, sweetheart,” Levi mocked between teasing kitten licks against your outer folds. his breath was hot as he exhaled against your damp core. “I’m waiting.”

You felt frustrated tears gather in the corners of your eyes. With an impatient whine, you rolled your hips towards him desperately, eyes wide and pleading for him to do something to fill the empty ache you felt within.

“Not good enough,” Levi growled, tongue lazily circling your entrance, twitching away every time you jerked your hips towards his mouth.

“Levi, please, I—,” you choked off with a frustrated whine. “You’re not being nice — I’m pregnant —,”

The stoic Captain pulled his mouth away from you entirely, rocking back on his heels. From between your thighs, Levi studied you, a renewed heat flaring to life in his steely eyes.

“You are, aren’t you?” He conceded, his eyes locking in on your mouth as you sank your teeth into your bottom lip and mewled. “And all because of me.”

Levi’s eyes dropped back down to your core, slick and aching, ready to take him however he wanted.

“And what kind of father would I be if I made the mother of my child suffer unnecessarily?”

Any response or yearning plea you may have answered him with died in your throat as Levi surged forward, his tongue plunging deep within your entrance, his nose pressing right against that sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs.

You just managed to slap your hand over your mouth to stifle the scream he pulled from you as the Captain began to fuck you with his tongue.

You considered yourself to be somewhat an expert on the eccentricities of Levi Ackerman. You knew he preferred two scoops of leaves for his morning cup of tea, but only one and a half in the evenings. You knew when he bathed he followed a precise routine, always washing himself twice before his hair, and that he always used two towels to dry off because he hated trailing water beyond the washroom.

You knew that he was dust and dirt’s greatest nemesis, and that even the slightest bit of clutter or disarray set his teeth on edge. You knew he loathed sharing any space with the cadets because no matter how many times he threatened them, they never seemed to remember to clean up after themselves properly.

You’d learned all of these quirks slowly, over years of proximity and tentative friendship with the brooding captain. You’d coveted each new discovery like some precious jewel, squirreling it away in a mental folder labeled “Levi,” that you periodically turned to whenever he was stressed or on his last nerve.

But there had been one attribute of his that you hadn’t learned about until after your relationship escalated — after he’d hauled you up onto his desk for the very first time and fucked you stupid.

And that insight was this: Levi, Captain of the Survey Corps’ Special Operations Squad and Commander Erwin’s right-hand soldier, ate pussy like a man possessed.

“You’re doing so good, doll,” he groaned between lewd smacks of his mouth against your syrupy folds, his lips and teeth alternating in their ministrations against your clit. “You’re so damn good, giving me a baby, making a father out of me.”

Hearing Levi not only acknowledge your pregnancy but speak as though he were excited the pair of you were venturing into parenthood together made the coil in your belly tighten.

Levi’s hands clamped down around your shins, guiding your legs until they bent at your knees before pushing them up and level with your hips. His fingers splayed around your calves, he used his grip to rock you back and forth against his face, allowing your juices to smear across his lips and jaw until his skin was shiny with your arousal.

He hummed in response to the staccato of “oh fuck, oh fuck — Levi —“ which fell from your lips until you could no longer remember how to form words.

His eyes remained open and fixed pointedly on your face, those gray irises tracking every twitch of your mouth and pinch of your brow. The louder your strangled whimpers became, the harder he moved you, until you were nearly sobbing for him to let you come apart on his tongue.

more levi content soon, babies!

[thebunnednun]

If you really love me, let me go [Preview]

Parings: Red Haired Shanks x Vice Admiral! Reader

Prompt:

Hey Mami! Soo I've been thinking about our beloved Shanks x Vice admiral!Reader. Cuz why not? He's so carefree, so it would be nice to see him with someone who is the opposite of him. As usual, @orange-milky has me blushing and kicking my feet. So be sure to thank her when I finish this fic.

ON WITH THE SHOW!!~~

The stars above stretched endlessly across the night sky, their brightness cutting through the dark canopy like diamonds spilled across velvet. It was your favorite part of living here—how open and vast the heavens always seemed. You found comfort in how steady they remained, unmoved by the chaos of life below. 

Sometimes, as you looked up at the twinkling lights, you wondered what it would be like to sail in the sky itself, drifting from planet to planet like the sea of stars was just another ocean. Luffy, ever the dreamer, always promised to make your wildest fantasies come true, and knowing him, it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. 

But what about you? What about your responsibilities?

Shanks' voice pulled you from your thoughts, though you hadn’t caught his words.

"Hey, are you alright lass?" he asked softly, his tone laced with a gentle concern.

You blinked, turning your attention back to him, meeting those familiar, warm eyes that seemed to hold a world of their own. 

"Sorry, no. What did you say?"

He smiled, that easy, carefree grin that never quite matched the weight of his words. "I was asking if you’d join me at sea again."

The idea hung between you like the scent of saltwater that always seemed to cling to him. You opened your mouth, glancing toward the town below, gesturing to the village that stretched out in the distance, its peaceful quietness versus the unpredictability of a pirate’s life. The flicker of lanterns from the homes and streets was like the heartbeat of the place you’d sworn to protect.

But Shanks shook his head, his expression unbothered by your hesitation. "Not for long," he clarified. "Just two weeks. I know you couldn’t stay forever."

His words were calm, non-pressuring, but the temptation lingered like a beckoning wave. You mulled it over, your mind swimming with the responsibilities that weighed you down. You weren’t young anymore, at least not in the way that counted. The youthful impulsiveness of picking up and leaving whenever you felt like it had long passed. 

Now, you had cadets who looked up to you, a village that relied on your protection, and a life you couldn’t simply walk away from. The thought of leaving—even just for a few weeks—and returning to disaster haunted you.

Yet, here stood Shanks, the man who could never be caught, the one who had always captured your heart. He wasn’t crowding you, wasn’t demanding an answer. He was just… there, waiting, like always. He reached into his pocket and passed you a handkerchief. You hadn’t realized you still had remnants of your green face mask smeared across your cheek.

You took the handkerchief with a small, grateful nod, wiping away the last smudge of your mask. Shanks’ grin widened as he watched you, a mischievous glint lighting up his features.

"Lovely as ever," he said with that familiar charm.

You raised an eyebrow, disbelief clear on your face. "Really now?"

"Yes," he said, his tone softening into something more genuine. "Like the first day I saw you. You just keep getting better and better."

His words, while honest and genuine, cut deep. They were too real, too heartfelt for the situation you were both in. It hurt—knowing he meant every word. You let out a heavy sigh, your chest tightening as you voiced what was already understood. 

"That’s what makes this so painful, Shanks. We’ve been dancing around each other for years. How long can we keep playing this game?"

You both fell silent, a weight settling between you like the fog rolling off the sea. The unspoken truth was something everyone knew—from the Celestial Dragons to the mermaids deep in the ocean. Even the sea beasts you used to ride in your younger days knew: You and Shanks were in love. But there were laws to nature that even love couldn’t break. 

A bird and a fish could admire each other, even come to each other’s aid when needed, but they could never be together. One couldn’t fly, and the other couldn’t swim—not where it mattered.

"What a cruel twist of fate this is," you whispered, your voice barely carried by the wind.

Shanks nodded solemnly, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Indeed."

Pppppssssssssssttttttt,

Here is the link to the official fic!

I own none of the images or art!!!

My usual tag list: @orange-milky, @thealtofvalleyxdoodles, @m0rona, @xxsliverwolfxx, and there's room for more!~

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want.

I promise I bite~

See you soon my loves!!

(｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[wardenparker]

CONGRATS on 2.5k!! You deserve every follow! ❤️ For the co-writer (along with @absurdthirst) of the Whiskey fic that made brain go BRRRRR and got me into reading/writing our fave corndog, how about our Agent with the prompts: "Should we make it official?" and/or "Put me down!" Have fun!

Agent Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels. 2,300 words. "Put me down!"/"Should we make it official?" (Sequel to: "Wait! Please don't go!"/"There is no 'us'." ) Co-written with @absurdthirst

When Jack hits the door, heads turn. The sharp, confident gait of a man on a mission who will not be stopped just shimmers in the air around him. Eyes sharp and narrowed, they scan the floor, looking for someone. For you.

“Can I help you, sir?” It’s the weekend, so a greeter is stationed at the door of the upscale retail store, to help direct customers through the maze of shelves and displays. It is the middle of the city so there are plenty of different kinds who come in every day, but this is definitely the first cowboy that’s ever set foot inside the Lexington Avenue Sephora.

Jack says your name and throws the woman a charming grin. “She’s helped me before so I’m hoping to see her again.” He lies, knowing that you won’t talk to him otherwise.

"Sure! Of course." The new girl smiles warmly, blushing a little as she's easily taken in by the charm that drips off of Jack like dew drops. "She's in fragrances today. All the way at the back of the store."

“Thank you kindly.” He tips his hat like a gentleman and starts for the back of the store. The past two weeks have been miserable. He’s drank, he’s raged, he’s blamed you for expecting too much. Then, when you rejected the bouquet of flowers he had sent to your parent’s house after misusing Statesman resources to find where you were, he had come to a hard truth. He had done you wrong. He hadn’t spoken from heart, not made himself uncomfortable for the sake of growth. Holding onto the fear of losing you if he loved you had caused him to lose you. And no surprise, he had loved you, because he is miserable without your voice in his ear, your fragrance on his sheets and your love in his heart. Now, he’s here to get you back.

You're there in the last aisle, helping a young lady find a specific gift she came looking for, in the uniform dress that you hate but tolerate for the sake of your new job. It doesn't pay well enough and it doesn't distract you enough to dull the constant aching hurt inside you after having walked out of Jack's place, but that's why you had started it the second after arriving back at your parents' place. To try to forget him. It isn't working. Not at all.

"I'll be right wit—" The figure looming a few feet away was only a shadow. It's the second you look up that your mouth runs dry and you feel sick to your stomach all over again. "I'm not sure I can help you, sir," you manage, hating the way your heart wings with so much hope. Hope that he wouldn't be here unless he had come for a good goddamn reason. But you have to stay strong. "You might want to try elsewhere."

“But sugar—” Jack drawls, grinning in pure relief at seeing your pretty face again somewhere else than in his dreams or the photos that haunt his walls. “You’re the only one who can help me.”

“Then you’ll have to wait.” Jack’s appearance has thrown you off completely, but you manage to finish up with your customer and take a deep breath — even hide your shaking hands behind your back — before you look at him again. “You came to my work?” Your voice is incredulous. Quiet. “It had better because you’re out of cologne.”

“You blocked my number and your daddy— well, I didn’t think you’d want there to be a brawl on your parent’s front lawn.” He huffs, annoyed that the old man had waved a hammer at him. He knows he could disarm him, but that would make you even madder at him.

“Ginger helped you find me?” You guess with disappointment. But Ginger is his friend. You can’t blame her for being on his side. “I left Jack. And I did it on purpose. Hell, we didn’t even have enough of a relationship to call it a breakup.”

“We had a relationship.” Jack snorts. “We have one still, this ain’t over, sugar.” He promises, “Not by a long shot.”

"We can't do this here." If he wants to have it out all over again, the least he can do is pay you the courtesy of not getting you in trouble at work. This is definitely going to get you in trouble. "I'm not going to lose my job because you can't take no for an answer."

“I love you, sugar.” Jack breaths out, finally saying the words he’s needed to for a long time. The words you deserve.

If there had been anything in your hands, you would have dropped it immediately. As it is, you feel like crumbling – falling down on the spot or running to him – something utterly undignified that would definitely get you written up at minimum. Your eyes mist and your shaking hands tangle around each other, but you can't break down on the sales floor. And beyond that? As much as you want to believe him, to let the anger and the heartache drip away so you can just go home to him where you want to be? It seems completely unbelievable to you that you walking out his door was somehow the magic tonic he needed to learn those damn words.

"My manager is watching," you murmur to him, glancing past him to the petite ice queen several yard away who has zeroed in on an employee not forcing product on every single person in the store. "We can't—it's not—you have to go, Jack."

“I’m not leaving.” He frowns, tossing the overly made-up manager a single look before focusing on you. “Did you not hear what I said?” He asks. “I love you, sugar. I need you.”

"I heard you." The water pressing at the back of your eyes is proof of that, and the way your voice cracks, but you can feel your manager's eyes drilling into your face and that gaze is angry. "I heard you. And we will talk about this, but I can't afford to lose this job and that might happen if you don't go."

“You don’t need this job.” Jack reminds you. You hadn’t had it when you left, so it’s not like you’ve been here for years.

"I have bills to pay," you remind him, rolling that tick in your jaw backward a little and swallowing the bitter pill that you decided to take all on your own. The undefined thing you had going with Jack had come with a big allowance, but it wasn't a sugar situation. That would have at least been a title. "Therefore, I need to keep my job. And the girl who just got hired can get sent out the door just as easily."

“You don’t need to worry about that.” He shakes his head and reaches for your hand. “Come on, sugar.”

“Why, Jack?” You have to keep your voice down as you snatch your hand back, but it’s still a hiss. “So I can be your stay-at-home friend-with-benefits again?”

Jack has many, many faults and one of them is impatience. His jaw clenches and he knows that he needs to get you alone to talk to you, others starting to warily gaze your way. Instead of answering you, Jack drops his shoulder and scoops you up like it’s nothing.

“Oh my fucking god, Jack!” The screech it earns from you is nearly instant, knowing that you have absolutely just lost your job over his stunt and not really knowing what in the hell he plans to do now. “Put me down! Right now!” He’s stronger than you and you don’t stand a chance of wriggling free in the dress you’re wearing. It will be up over your head if you even try.

“Nope.” His gait is just as determined as he passes by your manager, her jaw on the floor. “She quits.” He tells her and continues on to the door and outside.

“JACK!” Your shit is still in your locker and that’s going to be a black mark on your resume, but right now all you can do is beat your fists on his back and shoulder in protest. “What the hell are you doing? Put me down!”

By his Bronco, Jack finally relents, bending down and setting you on your feet. “Now, we can talk.”

Huffing and puffing like you’re about to summon a personal tornado, you don’t even hear him for all the blood pounding in your ears. “What the fuck was that?! Do you know how embarrassed I’m going to be when I have to go back in there and get my purse?”

“It’ll be the last time you go in there.” He predicts and he smirks at you. “And you’ll be flustered too badly to even think about what those crusted old biddies think.”

It’s a reasonable threat, considering how good he is at flustering you. The whole reason you’ve been so upset is because you do love Jack and you wanted this to work out. But standing out there on the street pressed between him and his Bronco? You feel like you’re about to be sold a familiar looking head of cattle after your own just happened to go missing.

“So what’s the play here?” You work very hard to keep your tone skeptical. “You tell me how much you need me so that I’ll come back to you and then nothing really changes? As usual?” He did say the words, but you’re so scared to believe them. To believe him. There’s a chance he doesn’t mean it and that terrifies you.

His eyes narrow, aware that he deserves that little barb but he shakes his head. “No. That’s not what’s going to happen, baby girl.” He huffs. “You are going to go get your purse and then I’m taking you home, where you belong. And I’m going to make you scream my name before you fall asleep on my chest as we plan.”

That all sounds…ridiculously good, actually. It would be a relief to go back to him. To not have to miss him anymore and feel like your heart has been split in two. But all you do is raise one eyebrow in a show of disbelief. “Plan what, exactly?”

“You’re marrying me sugar, today, tomorrow, or the next day.” He growls, smashing his lips against yours and moaning in relief when you melt against him. Pulling away to caress your cheek. “What do you say, baby girl? Should we make it official?”

“Do you…really mean it?” Months of telling him that you wanted to know where you stood with him — wanted commitment from him — only to be sidelined or waylaid or otherwise put off for just a little while longer, they all melt away in the face of the biggest offer of commitment he could possibly make.

“Gotta ring in my pocket.” He confesses, leaning in and brushing your nose with his. “Sugar, I’ve been such a damn fool.” He murmurs. “I thought I could avoid losing you if I didn’t admit I love you. And I just hurt you, something I never wanted to do.”

“That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense cowboy.” It makes Jack Sense, which is not much at all, but still your arms twine around his waist right there on the sidewalk. “But I’m just gonna brush past how long it took you to show up at the party and embrace the fact you’re here at all. Because I didn’t want to leave. I miss the hell out of you.”

“I’m a damaged soul, sugar.” He admits softly. “But I want to be better, I want to give you everything.” He sighs and leans in to kiss you again. “Come home?”

“Everyone is damaged somehow, cowboy.” Melting measurably more with another press of his lips to yours, you lean into the solid wall of Jack’s body completely. “We just have to talk about things from now on, so we don’t get more damage along the way. Okay?”

“Whatever it takes, baby girl.” Jack promises, wrapping his arms around you and holding tight. “I’m never letting you go.”

You’ve cried so much these last few weeks, it’s almost startling to realize that the tears in your eyes now are happy ones. Ecstatic. Overjoyed at having your Jack back in your life, and for the right reasons. If you were separated by more than a few inches it would have been a lunge to kiss him again, but as it is you wrap up in him and hold on tight. “You really have that ring? Because I’m gonna flash it everywhere when I go back into that damn place to get my purse, and then you’re gonna take me home. Our home.”

“I sure do, baby girl.” He has to take one hand out from around you and it almost kills him, but he wants to prove how serious he is. Pulling a small black velvet box from his sports coat. “Tell me what you think. If you don’t like it, we can go pick out any ring you want.”

"How could I not like it?" It's from him and that's all that matters. But the second he pops the little velvet box open, the tears in your eyes spill over and your heart is in your throat. "Baby...it's...it's...I love it. I love you." It's beautiful, and it's real, and he means it.

Leaving was the hardest thing you ever had to do, but if it was the kick in the pants that you both needed to know that the love you have is real? Then it was worth a little ache.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

[wystiix]

talk to me, please

❥ pairing: venti x gn!reader ❥ synopsis: Venti anxiously waits for a text from you to the point where he overthinks and nearly spirals into madness—will you please just fucking reply already? ❥ cw: crack, attempt at humour (kms), fluff maybe?? not proof-read so some stuff may not make sense lmao ❥ additional tags: lowkey kinda revolves around texting, venti's perspective, no pronouns for reader, modern setting, venti is a humanities major cuz i said so, does this count as socmed??? idk someone tell me i need to sleep it's 2am ❥ word count: 955 ❥ notes: bonjour hi hello kumusta. my foot is fucking asleep and my leg feels numb and my back hurts and i'm tired an it's 2am i have school i need to stop. okay so for context i was texting this girl and she wasn't replying so i went crazy, and then i thought "wait i could write a fic about this" and here we are. it was actually kinda fun writing this HAHAHAHAHA but i had to rush it cuz i have other stuff to do so uh it may be a bit quick. (see end notes after reading cuz i said so /j)

The clock ticked. It had been three hours. Venti stared at his phone, impatiently waiting for you just please, please, please reply.

Try to distract yourself, one may say, and mark these fucking words, he did.

He tried everything. From listening to music to doing the dishes, to cleaning his room. Oh, but that was not all.

For the past few hours, he reorganised his notes, desk and playlist, walked at least twenty laps around his dorm, ate all his snacks from the pantry like a fatass, cleaned up his closet and planned what he was going to wear a week from now, learned a new song on his guitar and even counted every single one of his ceiling and wall tiles.

There were exactly 146 tiles in his dorm. That number now forever haunts him.

Practically exhausted from being way too productive than he usually was, he slumped down on his bed and opened the app he used to text you. There was still no reply.

Venti buried his face into his pillow, letting out a groan of frustration.

It was incredibly frustrating and it nearly drove him crazy. Were you seriously that busy? Normally you would respond within a span of seconds, a few to thirty minutes at the latest. But fucking three hours?

He couldn’t let this opportunity slip away. You both had been talking for over a week—he couldn’t afford to mess this up. 

But what if you suddenly lost interest? Oh, it felt far too early for that. Was he finally going to have that Mitski experience? Was he going to be those depressed poets who poured their hearts out through their ink on the paper when a single minor inconvenience happened to them? 

You were killing him. And it was not softly. Venti felt as if his heart was shattering into a million pieces.

Was this his destiny, his punishment for choosing to pursue such a depressing major in humanities?

How cruel the universe is.

He sighed in defeat, opening his notes app to write and exude a poetic, Shakespearean ballad about this before his phone suddenly buzzed.

Ding! You have received a new message from [Name]!

Holy shit has his fingers never moved so quickly before in his entire life, clicking on the notification faster than he could blink. Your sudden message almost gave him a heart attack, for fuck’s sake.

So much for living and breathing Shakespeare.

Oh, how his heart fluttered. A simple message, yet it had him forget about his lament just a few seconds prior and he found himself swooning, practically glazing your message as if it was the most fascinating piece of literature he had ever laid eyes on.

Venti paused, rereading your message 25 million times, unsure how to reply. Should he respond right away, or would that be too eager? He didn’t want to come off as desperate, but three hours of waiting had been excruciating. Perhaps he should wait a minute or two… No, that would be too long!

God he wanted to punch himself in the face for clicking that notification too fast, now he has to think of a response on the spot or else he’d look like an asshole.

He started to type out a response.

k, i see.

He paused, immediately deleting the message with a shake of his head. Too dry, he has to sound interested. I understand! Would you like to shift the conversation to a less taxing topic? Delete. Too formal. LMAOOO dw dw, what was it about anyway? Delete. ahh hope the essay didn’t stress u out too much!! Delete. i’m madly in love with u Delete. Had he sent that he would find the nearest cliff and leap off.

Venti sighed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Why was this so complicated? He wanted to sound interested, but not desperate; casual, but not indifferent. He ended up typing something simple and hitting send before he could second-guess himself again. Sometimes, being simple is the ultimate sophistication.

He fought the urge to chuck his phone across the room. Shit, was that too casual? How long were you going to reply this time?

There were immediate blinking dots.

The tension in his chest eased as he found himself giggling at your comment. He realised the way he was acting earlier was ridiculous, maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Venti felt the weight lift off his shoulders. The conversation was back on track, and he could breathe easy again. Just as he was about to put down his phone, the blinking dots appeared again, and he immediately reverted his attention back to it.

Another message.

What.

What the fuck. Was this real?

He put his phone face down, allowing everything to sink in.

What the fuck. Coffee? Tomorrow? With you? Did you just ask him out? Was this real? Was he real? Were you real?

The anxiety that lingered within slowly ebbed away as he stared at the ceiling tiles—the same tiles that haunted him earlier. However, they now seemed oddly comforting.

“Holy shit.”

Gods above, was this a blessing? Maybe his love life wasn’t so hopeless after all.

Venti’s gaze drifted to his closet, where he noticed that same outfit he intended to wear a week from now. A cozy, soft-beige sweater with a hint of cream peeked out from behind a row of neatly hung clothes, gently draping over a pair of charcoal chinos.

He grinned like an idiot, giggling and kicking his feet like a little child who just received their favourite toy. A string of “oh my god, oh my god” repeated endlessly in his head like a loop.

And for once, the silence didn’t feel so heavy.

❥ notes: hi so yes. yes i did what he did here. yes i counted my tiles, but it was my bathroom tiles instead. there are like 121 tiles in the bathroom, including the hidden ones. in this fic i just added the average number of tiles to that number which was like 25 tiles??? lowkey idk i just estimated. and yes i did plan my outfit a week from now, which is for church. yes i cleaned my room. yes i walked more than ten laps around my living room. i was restless. yes i was productive as hell. lmfao by the time i was done with the fic she replied to me so yay!! win!! also pls get the "you were killing him and it's not softly" reference i hope someone at least gets it or else i'm gonna cry myself to sleep. yeah anyways im gonna sleep gn <3

[kai-anderson-whore]

His protégé (James Patrick march x fem reader smut) (kinktober fic 3)

Summary: you met James like his other “students” but after years off him taken you under his wing you couldn’t handle the pressures.

Warnings: smut, mentions of killing, becoming a serial killer, p in v sex, slight edging, knife kink, oral (reader receiving), tiny bit of spanking (like one spank), feeling like being watched, fear of abandonment(James not wanting reader to leave like the countess sort of did), James being possessive.

Word count: 3k

•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•..•°˚˚°•.•¤❅¤•.•¤❅¤•.•°˚˚°•.

You met him over three years ago, the same way as all his "students". Coincidentally waltzing into the Cortez when the world felt like it could swallow you whole, well at least that's what you felt like you wanted the world to do. To say this was the worst week you ever had was the understatement of the century.

You sat by the bar toying with the glass of alcohol in front of you. 'Was drowning your sorrows even worth it?', 'is getting so wasted that you'd might get kicked out the the hotel even worth it?' You wondered something that became routine over the past few days residing at this hotel. The bar was practically empty considering it was late on in the night.

The bartender who you soon known as liz shooting you a sympathetic smile every now and then. You observed the lavish historical hotel, full of art deco some antiques from the 1920s. You had heard all the rumours and stories of this hotel's history to say that it intrigued you would be the best way to put it. You heard near enough everything about the hotel Cortez and the "ghosts" residents here thanks to billie dean Howard.

You felt preying eyes on you, furrowed brows you turned and saw nothing... weird you thought. Maybe it was your imagination after all your in an infamous "haunted" hotel. But that was impossible ghosts aren't true, right?. Decided on calling it a night you thanked liz and went to your room 64, famous for being the room of two serial killers John Lowe and the former office of the owner james Patrick march coincidentally.

You still like you were being watched but tried to shrug it off 'relax no one is watching me it's in my head' you thought. Oh how you were wrong, several of ghosts who resisted here had their eye on you. Some curious on why you would come here, others wanted you as their next victim but one specific ghost wanted you as their protege, their next successor.

You finally made it to your room, fumbling around in your Jean pocket for your room key, you jammed the key into the door unlocking the door not before looking around to see if someone was near you. You couldn't shake that feeling that somebody was watching you, no matter how much you tried to shake it off.

Locking your room door you let out a breath out didn't know you were holding in. Making your way over to your suitcase you picked out your night attire. You still felt that eerie feeling going into the bathroom to clean your makeup off.

You exited the bathroom now in your pyjamas, the little clock on the nightstand played it's little song like usual "that thing freaks me out" you said out loud. "Don't let that frighten you dear" a voice chimed in making you let out a yelp in fright. Seeing a man sat on the chair a glass of whiskey or bourbon in hand you didn't know.

"Who the fuck are you" you hissed feeling mixed emotions shock, anger, fear of this intruder. "My names James Patrick march I'm the owner of this hotel and I'm afraid I don't like your tone dear" he introduced in a velvety accent getting up from the chair. He was dressed sharp in a pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt with a neck scarf.

"The owner of this hotel died like almost a hundred years ago" you scoffed at the man, which didn't faze him. "Yes that is true but you see in this hotel the dead doesn't exactly die" he stated stepping closer to you as you took steps back. You could see him more clearly now dark hair, pale skin with a pencil moustache that decorated his upper lip and beautiful chocolatey brown eyes that held something sinister in them.

"What do you want from me?" You asked. Even though his eyes held something evil within them you felt drawn to him like he wouldn't hurt you. "I've been watching you my dear, and I couldn't help but see the rage you secure within you" he said. A confused look on your face 'was I that noticeably angry?' You thought. "Right so?" You shrugged not quite catching on to what the ghost was saying.

"I want to help you set that rage free"

...

You didn't really remember what happened after that night all you remember was James teaching you everything there is to know about being a killer. For those three years he had taken you under his wing, taught you his ways, showed you his little contraptions within the hotel. And you were nothing if not willing to go through with it all.

You listened to every word that rolled off his tongue about his little plan. There were only three rules he had when it came to his little hobby 1: don't have a method. 2: don't be sloppy about it. 3: don't get caught.

You had just came back from another kill entering James's room on the 7th floor. "Ah your back dear how was it? Tell me the details" James's voice chimed the old fashioned record player playing an old time song. "It was the same as any other time James quick and easy" you sighed finding an old rag to clean yourself up.

"Quick you say, how so?" He asked confused at your lack of creativity unlike it usually was. "Because James I don't want to get caught I have a funny feeling that I'm going to be caught soon so I'm done" you sighed placing your knife on the little table by the bed. James watched your every move deep in thought. He wondered if your proposal was a good move "your going to stop killing?" He asked removing his blazer placing it on a chair, rolling his sleeves up.

"Yes James I'm sorry, I'm grateful you showed me your ways and I really did enjoy my time with you but it's best if i stop now before the heat on my ass gets me burnt" you held your hands up in defence making your way to the door.

James didn't know if he was sad or angry at the fact you've given up on your little spree or was it because you were essentially leaving him. Just as you turned the handle ready to exit till that sophisticated accent stopped you. "Don't go... please" he begged.

James didn't want to admit it to himself but these three years he spent with you were the best years he had in this hotel after he died. He didn't spend his time chasing after his ex-wife the countess, he spent every moment near enough with you enjoying the sick bond you both formed. He grew very fond of you more than his other students you had potential the same characteristics as himself.

"What?" You didn't quite believe what you were hearing, it wasn't the words it was the tone complete desperation. Only time you heard that tone of voice was around the first time you met him when he was desperately trying to get the countess back.

"Please don't leave me I couldn't bare it" he pleaded once again with a meek voice. The door still ajar, your hand on the handle. "James it's for the best anyway we had fun but it's time to get out before it's too late but I need to leave before I get caught" you stated. "I DONT CARE ABOUT THE KILLING Y/N" James yelled taken you aback. He never raised his voice at you once even when he was frustrated with you for some reason he never ever raised his voice.

James walked closer to you his face now red with anger. He wasn't going to let you leave he let one woman slip away he doesn't intend to let it happen again. You were a little nervous at the sudden shift in the room.

"I will not let you leave this hotel not after everything" his voice was calm but his expression said otherwise. You didn't know what was going to happen "what do you mean not letting me leave this hotel?" You asked. "I've grown rather fond of you my dear, I look forward to our little meetings and I guess I can't let that go" his cold breath fanned against your neck sending shivers down your spine.

You almost crumbled as his cold hands rested on your biceps, your breathing quickening with the small touch. Looking into his dark eyes held anger and lust. "I've never felt this way for anyone since the countess but with you dearest, it doesn't compare to the feelings I have for you" his lips in a smirk, seeing you melt from just his words.

It all made sense to you now, you couldn't lie to yourself and say you didn't grow to have strong feelings for the ghost (because that was far from the truth). The truth was you were infatuated with James Patrick march, you spent every moment with him for the past three years it felt impossible not to. People would call you a stupid girl for it.

"James-" you were cut off by his ice cold lips on yours. The kiss was rough but you responded nonetheless. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip demanding entrance. Parting your lips moaning into his mouth, he showed dominance with just his mouth, giving into him, kicking the door shut with your foot.

James guided you to the bed effortlessly, the backs of your knees meeting the foot of the bed. His tongue explored your mouth before he pulled away. James then unbuttoned his dress shirt, your hands roamed his bare chest biting your lip. Your fingers hooking around his suspenders pulling James close to you crashing your lips back on his.

A delighted hum left him as he pushed your body down on the bed. Your legs parted automatically allowing James to slot himself between them. His lips moved to your neck slightly biting the flesh there making you feel dizzy. His hands roamed your sides feeling, caressing every curve that came in contact with his hand.

You sat up as James began to remove your slip dress leaving you in just your underwear. "Your beauty doesn't compare to anything in this world" James's voice was more deep, thick with lust making you grow wetter by the second. "Your mine now dear, I'll never let you go" James snarls, his fingers hooking into your underwear peeling the fabric off your body.

Now just kneeling on the foot of the bed James got a perfect view of your dripping core. "Your all mine" James hummed against your thigh trailing his rough lips upwards till he met where you needed him the most. He was like a possessive animal and you were loving every moment of it.

James licked a strip between your folds bringing you arousal to your clit. You gasped at the shot of pleasure of his mouth on your clit, sucking, swirling his tongue on the sensitive bundle of nerves. His hands held your thighs apart as wide as he could getting all access to you.

A moan escaped you as he continued his assault on your pussy. Your hand's gripped into the bedsheets underneath you for leverage. It was already too much but you never wanted it to stop. You already felt dangerously close to the edge. James darted his tongue in your entrance, his nose brushing against your clit adding to the pleasure.

"I'm so close" you warned feeling that knot tightening in the pit of your core. James hummed against you devouring you like his last meal. He never stopped his movements bringing his attention back to your clit more rougher than before coaxing you to let go over his tongue.

Your orgasm ripped through you, back arching, toes curling practically screaming his name. "That's it dear let everyone hear who's making you feel this euphoric" he chimed against your glistening heat. He licked up all your juices before pulling away from your heat.

"Oh god" you sighed regaining your breath. Moving your body to sit up by the pillows. James peeled his suspenders off his shoulders, removing his shirt in the process. His hair now disheveled, a beautiful sight to see. You removed your bra leaving yourself fully naked in front of him.

James glanced at the silver knife on the nightstand, he still felt rage for you ready to leave him. He picked the knife up making up gulp, you didn't know his intentions now a look of slight fear yet excitement in your eyes. "I'm not going to hurt you dearest" as if he read your mind with his free hand he undid his slacks and removed his underwear freeing his rock hard cock.

You were drooling at the sight, he was long and thick but not to thick were you'd think he'd slit you in two. His cock slight curved it was probably the most prettiest cock you'd ever seen.

James then got on top of your body slotting himself between your legs. Crashing his lips back on yours, the blade still in hand. Feeling the flat surface of the cold metal on your thigh, sending a shiver through you. He began dragging the metal down your outer thigh, his cock grinding on your inner side.

James pulled away from your lips taking the sharp edge of the knife to your cheek. "You will never leave me dear, I wouldn't allow it" his eyes dark, lustrous and sinister. It all was too addicting, "I'll never leave you James" you whimpered pathetically, the blade dragging from your cheek to under your chin, not to cut you but feel the harshness.

You grew more wetter than you were before. James lined himself up with your entrance before pushing himself into your sopping cunt without warning. You cried out as his thrusts were rough as merciless. Your hands gripped his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin coaxing his thrusts to become more harsher and expeditious.

James dragged the blade to the valley of your breasts. You moaned out feeling the cold metal under your breast. A grunt leaving James's lips "you feel like heaven" he grunted "you will never leave me, you belong to me from now on" he said in between his thrusts. Your walls clenched around him the desire burning like fire.

"Oh fuck" you cried out, chest heaving, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You could barely hear what he was saying. You could see that veins popping out of his neck the blade soon discarded and replaced with his hand on your breast fondling the lump of tissue.

A sigh of pleasure left your lips, feeling close to the edge once again. James didn’t let it go unnoticed, feeling you clenching around him. Much to your dismay James pulled out of you leaving you feeling empty and whimpering. You shot the ghost a confused look “don’t worry dear just turn around for me” James ordered.

Nodding your head you got on your hands and knees, feeling your wetness dripping down your legs in the process. “Your so wet, who for dear?” James cooed in his velvety voice. “You James all for you” your voice was scratchy from the high pitched moans. You felt that blade once again on your lower back.

“Yes dear all for me, no one else” James was possessive over what was his, you were no exception. From his student to now bent over for him as he drags the knife lower over your ass to your core. You moaned in pleasure you didn’t think this would be your type of thing but with James you’d do anything.

A sting on your ass making you jolt forward, James hand colliding with the skin there. You moaned at the sudden feeling, James’s hand soothing the red mark. Lining himself back up with your entrance effortlessly. Your greedy cunt taking him with one thrust.

Your hands gripped the bedsheets once again, your body jolted with each harsh thrust he delivered. All that could be heard in the room was a mixture of you and James’s pleasures, skin slapping off each other and the bed rocking beneath you.

You could have sworn you could feel him in your stomach, one hand on your hip the other toying with the knife along your lower back again. The thrill of what he was going to do next wasn’t like anything before, the anticipation eating you up.

James couldn’t get enough of you, you were like a drug he never wanted rehab for. The way your walls would clench and flutter around him was enough for him to come undone then and there. The way your loud moans filled the room, like music to his ears. You were just perfect to him, his perfect little protégé.

“Who do you belong you?” James grunted thrusting rapidly into your poor little pussy. You tried to get the words out but you couldn’t comprehend amongst all the overwhelming pleasure. Only a strangled moan leaving your lips instead.

Feeling the knife against your neck and an arm pulling you up flush against James’s chest, his cold breath fanning against your ear. “I asked you a question dear, very impolite not to answer” his thrusts harder hitting your cervix granted to make you see stars. You throw your head back to rest in James’s shoulder as you managed to answer.

“I belong to you james, I’m so close” you warned.

James discarded the knife once again, replaced it with his own hand chasing your orgasm. You reached out for his hair tugging on it, your other hand gripped onto his arm around your waist. “Let go for me, darling” he whispered, that was enough for you cumming for a second time. Your grip on his arm tightened releasing all your juices over his cock.

Triggering his own orgasm, James hips snapped upwards spilling his seed deep inside you. A low moan left James as you came with his name on your lips like your only prayer riding out your highs.

Once you both calmed down you leaned onto James skin glistening with sweat, breathing shallow. Gaining the energy to lift yourself off of James you threw yourself onto the pillows feeling knackered. James got off the bed to grab a rag to clean up.

After getting you both clean James threw his undergarments back on climbing into bed beside you. “I won’t leave you James” you said with a weak, tried voice. James wrapped his arm around you, bringing yourself closer to him resting your head on his chest. “I know darling” he hummed deep in thought.

[strxnged]

TIGHNARI: # second life.

word count. 1.3k. genre. coworkers to lovers? whump confession.

overview. after your confession to tighnari goes exceptionally poorly, you move away from gandharva ville, change your job, and try to forget. however, he comes looking for you in sumeru city.

author's note. oops i wrote another tighnari fic. kinda like him or whatever. he's cool. anyways i have a thing for confessions in the rain so we went with it, enjoy feeling slightly sad and then slightly satisfied in this brainrot-drunk fic. reblogs are appreciated as always!

Your entire disposition shifted helplessly the moment you realized Tighnari was in front of your stall, arms crossed and eyes dark. As your breath hitched, you attempted to neutralize your face—but it was impossible, it was hopeless, to prevent the shake in your voice.

“Good afternoon. What can I get for you?”

He met your eyes with a calculated smile. “Hello, Y/N. May I speak with you on your next break?”

You pursed your lips fleetingly. “No, I will be busy.”

He exuded frustration but you both seemed to try to ignore it. “I have to explain…”

So he was also haunted by the scene that had prompted your permanent absence from Gandharva Ville.  He was also haunted by how it happened, although you were quite sure if given another chance he would have said the exact same thing to you and the outcome would have been the same.

“Can I get anything else for you?”

“Well…” He sighed, studying the shop’s goods. “Tell me, how fresh are these Niloptala Lotuses?”

“Picked this morning.”

“I’ll have a dozen.”

You kept your eyes on the lotuses as you packaged them for him, carefully folding the leaves on each to protect the small flower within. In a small, watertight box, you organized them in three lines of four, carefully covered it with a straw lid, and pushed it towards him. “That will be forty thousand mora.”

He paid you, and you felt the shape of something in your hand that was not a coin. Before you could understand what it was, and try to give it back to him, he had carried off his vessel and disappeared. But now you wished he would come back, because you had realized it was a note. It read “Collei, of all people, urged me to come to the Bazaar and find you so that I would ‘stop being so miserable.’”

You folded the note and pocketed it, scanning the crowds for any sign of him.

It didn’t make sense. Did he want you to come back to the village, and forget about what had happened? Was he hoping you had gotten over your feelings for him by now, and that you were willing to be a Ranger again?

It wasn’t going to work. Your feelings, if anything, had grown stronger, overpoweringly so. That had been the reason you’d left, hoping in vain that a job unconnected to the Forest Rangers would permit you some distraction. You could think of it so clearly, the hot tears that had been on your face as you had finally said it. “I’m afraid I’ve fallen in love with you, Tighnari,” you’d said. “I’ve fallen in love with you.”

You remembered how his hand holding the beaker of pollen concentrate had frozen, how he’d said nothing for a terrible minute.

He looked up at you, his eyes… fearful? You still couldn’t decide what you had seen in his expression, although you had certainty it hadn’t been positive.

“You can’t,” he had said. “You don’t know me.”

“I—I know you well enough.”

His voice had been cold, and his expression had turned adamant. “You don’t.”

You had thought about this nearly every day since. It had been weeks, and it still gripped and squeezed your heart every time.

Your break came, and you took it promptly. You would find him, if only to tell him you were sorry you had been in his life. You spotted, with some awkwardly elaborate ducking, Collei and a few other Forest Rangers. If they saw you, they’d try to connect with you again, and you couldn’t bear it. News of the angstful aforementioned events, you were sure, had spread between Rangers. Oh, it was humiliating.

You continued out of the Bazaar. It was raining in Sumeru City today, and you were grateful for the Bazaar’s cover. You now regretted not bringing with you any kind of hat or umbrella, as your uniform was going to be drenched. 

You did not know where Tighnari might be since he did not appear to be in the Bazaar. You had headed to the South entrance, struck with the idea that perhaps his acquaintance Rohawi would know—maybe he had stopped to greet him, and shared at least the purpose of the visit to Sumeru City visit.

But you didn’t get far. The rain picked up, and you immediately found shelter as it was necessary. Said shelter happened to be the overhang on the side door of the Jewler’s shop. You rested against one of the pillars, and wiped some rain off of the top of your head.

Then, you stared.

Tighnari stared back at you from beside the opposite pillar, hair also dripping to the wooden floor.

“Tighnari—”

“Y/N—”

You both went quiet, and then he sighed.

“I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you, it was… You may be right that I can’t love you with how little I know about you, but I… I can’t help it Tighnari, and I’m afraid that ruined everything.”

“But it’s my fault you misunderstood,” he said. “You are the first to confess to me in such a way, and it caught me off guard. However, that does not excuse how I reacted.”

“You were being honest.”

“I was being brackish. I did not take the time to acknowledge your emotions, nor my own, as I responded in the logical and cruel way that is most natural for me.”

As a contrast to the bustling, noisy marketplace atmosphere that you had been speaking over earlier, the thunder and rain were isolating. You seemed to be the only voices in the tunnel of weather. “But you were still right. I didn’t know you well enough to understand… and how can I defend my feelings for you then?”

Tighnari reached for your hand, hesitating only an inch before he grabbed it. Then, he lifted it and covered it with his other hand. “The truth is,” he said, “I feel a certain kind of way for you that I’ve not felt for anyone in a long time. It is… frightening. But—” He looked you in the eyes earnestly, “--You have to understand that I don’t know you as well as I would like to. I would like to know so much about you so that I may love all of you. I would like to study you, your likes and dislikes, your fears, your passions. I want to know what makes you tick, Y/N. I want to be with you so that I can observe you, and so that you might, in return, get to know me, too.”

You wanted to ask him if he meant it, but you knew the answer. His eyes said the rest.

“May I hug you, Tighnari?” you said, unable to think of anything else.

His voice broke as he said, “Of course you may, my dear friend.”

You finally stepped forward and embraced Tighnari, finding the dampness of your clothing only comforting, somehow. He smelled like the trees, and rain, and home. He held you sturdily and decidedly, one hand on the center of your back and one on the back of your head. He was unwilling to let you go until his heat had warmed you some.

When you finally released, he took your face in his hands and planted a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“May I get to know you, Y/N?”

author's note. when i wrote the bit with the note i couldn't help but think about a "new item acquired: tighnari's note" notification on the side of the screen LAFKHLADS