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yourwosogirly · 10 months

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Broken Hearts, Healing souls - Mapi Leon

Based off this request

Word count: 2k

The door unlocked, followed by keys placed in a bowl and shoes being taken off but it didn’t make me turn my head .

“how was the party?”i asked bitterly, finally speaking up and turning towards my girlfriend. For now.

“It was good”she swallowed uncomfortably, feeling the tension in the room, but not knowing what it was from.

she could clearly tell I was upset though as normally when she would arrive home I would jump straight in her arms, showering her with kisses.

but it didn’t look like that was going to be happening anytime soon.before anything could be said I shoved my phone in her face .

“what’s this?”i ask sternly as she sucked in a breath.it was a picture alexia had taken at the party mapi had been at and while it looked pretty normal you could clearly see in the back mapi snogging a girl with red hair .

I was a brunette.

now I was very aware of mapi’s dating history which had scared me sometimes with insecurity knowing she would jump from one girl to the next after getting bored, but I was reassured I was different.but clearly I was only different because she thought she could jump to one girl to the next while we’re together .

“did you cheat on me?”i whisper looking up at her .

“y/n..”she mumbled and I stood up abruptly and my heels clicked against the floor as I walked closer to her .

“no, mapi it’s a simple question.did you cheat on me”I asked sternly taking a pause between each word .

“yes”she looked down at the ground full of guilt as I gasped taking a step back. I was expecting it, of course but hearing it was come out of her mouth was a different story.

I was baffled to say the least, I had no idea what to say, I couldn’t even look her eyes.this certainly wasn’t the woman, I thought she was and fell in love with .

“why?….why would you do this?to me?”i ask her, my voice cracking.her eyes flooded with tears, heart breaking from the pain in my voice.

“because…”

“because what, mapi”I cut her off sharply and she sucked in a breath.

“I don’t fucking love you, okay?!”She let out and I stopped for a moment, my body feeling frozen but in a numb way before I exploded .

“Get out!Get out!Get out!GET THE FUCK OUT!”

4 years later….

I let out a shaking breathe as I stood outside the training centre with the Barcelona crest shining on the side of it .My hands shook with nerves while I kept taking deep breaths whispering, “you can do this”,over and over .

Transferring to Barcelona wasn’t one of my plans but despite all the nerves moving clubs gave me a specific one stuck in the back of my mind making me shudder .

More like a specific someone.

“hi y/n, you okay?”i opened my eyes to seeing Jonatan Giráldez, my new coach standing in front of me .

“yes, I’m fine”lie. I put on a fake smile which he seemed to be convinced by as he nodded his head slowly at me .

“alright, cmon then, gotta get ready for your first training session”he chuckled, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

“alright girls, this is y/n”Jonatan said, introducing me to the team before he sent me off to go join them .I was overwhelmed slightly as all the girl surrounded me, introducing their names all at once which I certainly wouldn’t remember.

“hi y/n”mapi said i internally rolled my eyes, I couldn’t believe she was doing this right now. I couldn’t be arsed to have to deal with her.I pretty much ignored her though, only giving her a smile as we started some drills and despite everything happening, god was on my side and I luckily wasn’t paired up with mapi.

“hey, you okay?”marta whispered to me with a curious smile as she was stood next to me.my eyes were burning into the back of mapi’s head as I watched her .

I knew I technically in this moment she hadn’t done anything wrong yet. She just made me unbelievably angry for no reason at all but the girl did cheat on me .I tried to pick out all the things she did that disgusted me but they were all lies.she just looked so undeniably gorgeous.

“yeah, I’m fine”i said focusing my gaze away from the fake blonde. stop it, y/n you can’t go back there.

I caught mapi’s eyes from across the pitch which caused me to shudder. she smiled at me though, unexpectedly but I turned away making her smile falter as I passed the ball back to Laia.

••••

I sat in the corner of the locker room, my eyes closed as I silently cried and hugged my knees against the chest.

training had been over and done with and as well as it went and I couldn’t wait to have my debut for this team, my heart hurt, more than ever .

I was convinced pretty much everyone had gone home by now, if someone was here they would’ve came in by now and the locker room was pretty much empty.

suddenly I heard footstep but I ignored them, resting my head against my knees until I felt a hand tapping my shoulder and sitting down into the spot next to me .

“hey, you okay?”the voice made me freeze up. I knew that voice all too well.

“why do you want?”I looked up at her and her eyes widened seeing my blotchy and blood shot, red eyes.

“please y/n, just tell me what’s wrong, I know I hurt you but I still care for you”she said with a sympathetic gaze directed at me .

I sighed, leaning my head back against the wall behind me. “I hate it here”i mumbled .

“no you don’t”she dismissed and I raised an eyebrow at her .

“how would you know?”I asked her with a bit of sass laced in my voice .

“y/n please, I dated you for four years, I know what your like and I was watching you today, believe it or not and you didn’t look like you hated it, you fit in with the team really well”i sighed in frustration, rubbing my hands against my face .

“what’s really going on?”she asked placing her hand on my shoulder before I pushed it off, turning to her .

“I hate it because you are here!”i exclaimed, now being nose to nose with her .

“I-I don’t understand”she shook her head confused and I groaned .

“well learn to maps, I had buried my feelings for you so hard in my heart when we broke up because you hurt me so much yet I’ve never loved anyone that much and seeing you here today, four years later, I fell in love all over again and I don’t think I can do it”i shook my head, wanting to scream into my pillow and cry.

“oh y/n”mapi leaned down and for some reason I didn’t recognise the look on her face as she cupped my cheeks .

“please don’t touch me, mapi”I flinched, forcing myself to look away from her .

“y/n I”she started but I cut her off.

“no, mapi, I can’t do this, if I keep looking in your eye I will fall in love all over again and I can’t go through that, it’s too painful”i turned my head to the side and biting my lip, to stop myself from bursting into tears.

“y/n, I’ll never hurt you again, I promise you”she said grabbing my chin again, and I let her this time.

“how do I know that?”I asked naïvely .

“because y/n, I still love you”she confessed and I closed my eyes shut in fear.

when I didn’t respond she carried on. “it’s true and you might hate me even more but I don’t care, you need to know. All the girls?their nothing compared to you.nothing.I’ve never liked any of them the way I love you”.

“mapi”she knew I still wasn’t convinced.

“y/n, I’m not asking you to get back with me and sleep next to me tonight all I’m asking is for a second chance, it was four years ago, I’ve changed which may be hard to believe but I want to get you to earn my trust again”I was slowly easing to her way but I still wasn’t sure.

“I don’t know, mapi”I shook my head but she didn’t seem to be giving up.

“mi amore, please? just take it one step at a time yeah? and in the end you can choose alright? so how about coffee?tomorrow?”she asked with a hopeful.

“y-yeah, I can do coffee”i nodded making her smile .

“Perfect. I’ll drive us there after training okay?that sound good?”she asked and I nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow y/n”she was careful as she pulled me into a small hug, kiss my forehead and leaving the room after picking up her stuff.

••••

“hi y/n, you alright?”mapi asked me as we met up outside the car park and I nodded silently adjusting my kit bag on my shoulder.

“great, let’s go, if your ready of course?”she asked as I nodded again, she was still very wary of me.

“yeah, I’m ready” I whispered as we headed to her car and she drove to the cafe. the whole car ride was silent with me leaning my head against the window, the radio on as Mapi drove to the cafe she was familiar with, which didn’t take too long to get here.

once we had arrived, she quickly opened the door and got out of the car but as I moved to do the same, in a flash, she was there opening the door.

“for the lady”she smirked and I got out chuckling shyly. I muttered a small thank you as we headed towards the cafe.

The bell rang as we entered the cafe a few heads turning toward us which we didn’t mind our business with.

“Is this okay?”she asked, pointing to the small two people's table in front of the window.

“yeah, this is fine” I said sliding into my seat.

“Okay, I’ll go order for us what would you like?” she asked me, leaning against the table.

“umm, cappuccino please” I smiled and she nodded walking to the counter to order our drinks.

I sighed as I watched her walk away, god I hated her I mean hated her .I hated the way she walked, the way she talked, the way she dressed today, how she looked, why did she have to look so beautiful and most of all I hated the way she looked putting the heart she broke back together with her kind gestures.

“here you go”I was brought out of my trance with my cappuccino plane in front of me. mapi sat down opposite me and sipped on her green tea.

“you okay?”she asked and I nodded, sipping on my hot drink after blowing on it to lower the temperature.

“I’m fine” I mumbled, placing my cup down on the table.

“Can I?”she asked apprehensively as she reached to grab my hands. I nodded slowly as she took them on her own.

“y/n, I just wanted to say, I’m really sorry for what I did and I will never stop apologising because to be honest I’m lucky you're giving me this chance cause I don’t deserve it but I have to try, cause I never stop thinking about you,” she said breathlessly.

“mapi, hey, you did hurt me a lot, but I’m not closing this off, I can see you actually care and that your putting effort in” I reassure her cupping her cheeks and she leaned into my hands.

“really?”she whispered and I nodded with a smile, it was the first time I had smiled around her in a long time.

“yeah, I’m not saying you're forgiven but this is the start of a new us and trust me I would’ve said no if there weren’t feelings still there.

“Okay, yeah I understand, but just know this is gonna work y/n, I know it, I’m gonna fight for us” she stoked my cheek making me smile.

“so wanna go back to my place?”she said cheekily as we stood up wrapping her arm around me.

“Hey, don’t be too pushy now” I smiled making her laugh as we walked out of the coffee shop with my head on her chest.

It was the start of something new.

Two fics in one day?me?never

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso one shot #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon imagine #espwnt x reader #espwnt imagine #bc femeni x reader #bc femeni imagine

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xreaderbooks · 1 year

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'Til death do us part

Pair: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: Y/n comforts her husband, Sirius, after having a nightmare, post-Azkaban. Based on THIS request.

Warning: nightmares

Word Count: 1.1k

Songs I listened to while writing: You Are a Memory by Message To Bears, Rescue by Lauren Daigle, Je te laisserai de mots by Patrick Watson

Sirius Black Masterlist - Navigation - Wattpad - AO3

You woke to the jostling and jerking from the body next to yours, the shouting and screaming came next, and your heart was already pounding at a high-speed rate due to the scare out of your sleep. You thought there was an attacker or that your home had been broken into. A ridiculous thought since you’ve been used to having your sleep cut short by your husband in this exact same state.

“Sirius,” You shook his shoulder gently to pry him out of his nightmare. “My love, wake up.”

He shoved your hands away as he bolted up into a sitting position, his eyes were open wide now, tears at the corners of his eyes. The normal silver was bloodshot from his crying and lack of sleep.

“Y/n?”

“Another one,” Your eyes softened at his state.

He brought his knees up to his chest, bringing them in closer with his arms hugging his legs. Your heart tore a little at the sight of how vulnerable and young he looked. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Your voice was slightly above a whisper. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He wiped the flowing tears as they came, “It’s the same thing, over and over again.”

Sirius has opened up to you about his nightmares time and time again when he was stable enough to speak about them. The feeling of his soul being sucked out of him was similar to how you feel when you dream about falling except instead of your heart jumping it was your spirit that was being pulled painfully away from your body. He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t wake up from the dream as you normally could when you fall in your sleep.

His chest began to heave, his breathing quickened with shallow breaths.

“You’re okay, you are just fine,” You reached out to place a hand on his chest. “You are here, you are safe.”

Sirius began to sob with never-ending tears, “I can’t- I can’t.”

You shushed him with a small shake of your head, “It’s alright, you’re alright. You don’t have to be strong right now, let it out.”

“Can I hold you?” He asked shyly. It reminded you of your years at Hogwarts together when you first started dating, he never wanted to push your boundaries, set on proving how good of a boyfriend he can be. He wanted to be gentle for you.

“Of course,” You lay back, your head on the pillows and lifting the blankets letting the cool air hit you as he laid on top of your chest, placing them on top of him. He was fully wrapped in comfort, the top of his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck, both of his arms around your middle, clutching him to you tightly.

He once compared the feeling of the dementors tearing him apart to how it would feel if you were to ever leave him. He would let you go if it was what you wanted, but that was how much it would hurt. You reassured him that you would never leave him, you were his forever.

“I’m sorry,” He repeated in a sob. You felt his body shaking atop yours, and the back of your eyes stung, but you couldn’t cry now. He needed you to be strong right now, and you would be, just as he was all those years.

It wasn't his fault he was framed, but somehow the guilt still ate away at him as if he was the one who betrayed Lily and James. What he told Harry in the Shrieking Shack when he had finally caught Peter was nothing short of the truth, he would have rather died than betray them, and yet...

12 years apart, he blamed himself for trusting Peter, for leaving you alone. He had no knowledge of whether or not you survived if you blamed him just as everyone else had. The Aurors held you back as they arrested him but he couldn't tell by the look on your face. There was too much going on.

12 years, you were married to a 'murderer'. You were now married to a wanted man, you weren't even able to go on a honeymoon. Your wedding was only two days before his arrest.

“Do not apologize to me, Sirius,” Your tone was stiff and with meaning. “I’ll repeat it as many times as I have to, you have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Tu es trop parfait pour moi, tu ne mérites pas d'être coincé avec moi,” He muttered into your neck.

You brushed the hair that was stuck to his skin from his sweat, both of your hands working to hold his hair into a short ponytail, you had a hair tie around your wrist and tied it to his hair to cool him down. With the back of your left hand which was freer than your right that was currently running tickles up and down his back, you checked his temperature, Sirius’ body heat was running hot. To the best of your ability, you tried tugging down the blankets on both your legs.

“English please,” You teased. You loved it when he spoke French but you couldn't help but feel that at the moment it was something you weren't meant to hear.

He unhooked one of his arms from you and grabbed a hole in your left hand, his thumb playing with the diamond on your ring. “I love you.”

“That is definitely not what you said but-” You pressed a kiss to his forehead. "I love you more, Siri."

Sirius lifted himself onto his forearms, hovering over you, his head tilted noses touching. You closed your eyes and leaned forward to kiss him but he pulled back before your lips could touch. Instead, he pecked your cheek and lay back on his own side of the bed. “Not possible.”

You went onto your side facing him, your hand holding your head up. He had his hands pressed to his eyes, you took his left hand and kissed his ring. “Hey.”

He turned his head to you, and you played with his fingers as you spoke, “I love you.”

He nodded simply, turning his head to look at the ceiling again.

“You’re never going back there, ever, I’ll fight whoever I have to.” You tried to, you were the only other person who knew who the true secret keeper was but they wouldn't hear it, especially because you had no evidence. Peter was gone, nowhere to be found.

He chuckled, “I’m sure you will, darling.”

“Til death do us part, remember?”

He fully turned his boy to you, grabbing both your cheeks in his hands, he gave you a long kiss before pulling away and leaning his forehead against yours. “‘Til death do us part.”

~~~ translation: Tu es trop parfait pour moi, tu ne mérites pas d'être coincé avec moi ; you're too perfect for me, you don't deserve to be stuck with me.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black imagines #sirius black x you #sirius x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius x y/n #sirius x you #sirius black #sirius black one shot #marauders imagine #marauders era #post azkaban sirius #nightmare #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fanfiction #fluff #hurt/comfort #sirius black fluff #sirius black/reader

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gloomy0x0phantom · 5 months

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When he falls out of love

Sanji x Fem!reader ❰ headcanon ❱ tags : angst angst aaaaaaaaaangst, falling out of love note : Thank you Silent Hill ost for bringing me so much sadness and inspiration today 😍

I hope you're ready to cry ~ ❥ Sanji will never tell you straight out that he no longer loves you. ❥ Even if you're no longer his soulmate in his eyes, he still loves you in some way, he doesn't want to put you through the pain of a break-up, a separation, so... he suffers in silence. He refuses to break up with you. ❥ He'll continue to tell you I love you, cook all your favorite dishes, caress you with tenderness and look at you with affection... he'll continue to make love to you, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and protect the flame of your bond. ❥ Over time, you'll be the one to notice the changes in his attitude and routine. ❥ Smoking like it's his last day on earth. The few cigarettes a day become a pack of cigarettes, and if he's been hiding his secret for a long time... two packs. This disastrous situation causes him stress that crushes all his energy, but when he takes a drag from a cig, everything seems to fall back into place for a few seconds. It's his only way of relaxing, although it hurts him in the end. ❥ When you wake up at night, he's no longer by your side. Sanji has always taken a few hours at night to prepare the ingredients for the next day, but he usually hurries back to cuddle with you and sleep. Now he's gone until the early hours of the morning. When you go to ask him to come with you, he looks at you with hearts in his eyes and promises to join you as soon as he finishes his chores. You end up falling asleep, alone... In reality, Sanji feels unable to share a bed with you, so he sleeps on the kitchen bench and wakes up before the others so as not to worry them. ❥ Sanji spends a lot more time in the kitchen trying out new dishes. He's so busy, it interferes with your activities as a couple, like: taking a bath together, napping, playing little games to keep you occupied, the cooking lessons Sanji used to give you that always ended up in the pantry... But it's normal for Sanji to be focused on his end, he's a chef and cooking is his art. It's totally normal, right? ❥ Sometimes, in very rare moments, Sanji slips up. When you walk out of your room in an outfit that suits you so well, you expect to get a completely over-the-top reaction from your boyfriend, but no... for a few seconds, your eyes meet and you see the emptiness in his blue ones. Sanji is startled and notices what has just happened, so to make up for it, he blurts out "My precious goddess, you're so beautiful, my brain has stopped working! What did I do in a previous life to deserve you, mon amour?" ❥ Sanji is a loyal man, but now that his heart is separated from yours, he allows himself to fall under the spell of other women when you're not around. He can't help fantasizing about other women. Guilt eats him up and he feels disgusted imagining other women under his body or simply in his arms. He finds comfort in the fact that you'll never see what's lurking inside his skull and that, at least, he's faithful to you... physically.

It's his turn to keep an eye on the Thousand Sunny at night, and this moment of silence can only do his wounded soul good. Sanji sucks the poison from his cigarette and slowly releases the smoke. He gazes at the sea, imagining himself somewhere else, a few years before you joined the crew, when Nami and Robin were his only worries. He recalls the happiness that was born in his heart when you officially joined the team, his nose running a river of blood at the idea of seeing you around all day long. And of course, you responded to his advances! Unlike the navigator and the archaeologist, you allowed yourself to be seduced quite easily, and Sanji took his chances. He had a great time with you, and frankly, he wouldn't trade it for the world, but... even though you're a deadly beauty, even though you're a strong, independent woman, even though you're perfect... you were not meant to be.

Sanji sighs and slowly shakes his head. For heaven's sake, it's been months since he realized that he doesn't share the same feelings as you, and every day he feels as if a knife is sinking a little deeper into his back. Can he honestly go on like this until death? Alas, for your happiness, he's willing to do the impossible, because at the end of the day, you're still his crewmate.

"Sanji, are you crying?"

The cook straightens up, he hadn't heard you coming. You shouldn't be awake, it's late at night, but you haven't been sleeping very well for a while. No idea why. Anyway, you weren't lying in your question, tears were indeed running down the blond's cheeks. You approach him carefully and wipe away his tears with a sad smile. The gesture provokes a sob from your boyfriend, so you open your arms wide and welcome him warmly. You stroke his back and try to comfort him as best you can.

"I don't know what you're trying to run away from, I don't know what's going on in your head, but I know you can defeat whatever's trying to hurt you. You're a strong man, Sanji, I believe in you."

The two of you part and look into each other's eyes. It's not the first time you've shared a long look full of undertones, but this time you both seem to be looking for something in the other's gaze. Sanji can't take it anymore, he can't take it anymore, but you're so perfect… What could he possibly blame you for, even if he tried to break up with you? You're thoughtful, caring, a good listener, you share your food with him, you give him little gifts, you compliment him every chance you get, honestly, you're the dream girlfriend. So, so, so perfect…

Sanji closes his eyes and presses his forehead against yours.

“Je t’aime. Je t’aime si, si fort…” (I love you. I love you so, so much.)

In your turn, you break down under the weight of emotion, you start to cry like him and don't hold back any tears. Your hands tighten on his shoulders and you try to remain calm. You knew it was a bad idea to approach him like that at night, but insomnia and bad feelings convinced you to join him under the moon. Honestly, you thought you'd found the courage to end your relationship, but seeing Sanji in this state? You know that parting with him would only break his heart and drive him deeper into darkness. You don't know what's been going on with him for the last few weeks, but it's obvious that he needs love and so you can't break up with him. One day, you'll tell him the truth... but for tonight, you've got to fulfill your duty as his, perfect, girlfriend.

“I know.”

#sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji headcanons #one piece x reader #headcanons #x reader #gloomy0x0phantom

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jahayla-parker · 6 months

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Mistaken Emotions : Conrad Fisher x Reader

Description: 4.5 k wc, y/n and Conrad have been best friends for years, so she’s knows there has to be more to his sudden change in behavior. Friends to lovers, angst to fluff, hurt comfort.

Warnings: mentions of/references to cancer & illness, panic attacks, anxiety, mentions of smoking and weed/pot/marajuana, anger/sadness/other emotions, etc.

Y/n sighed to herself as she walked down the beach. Her shoulders lifted briefly during the inhalation, only to dramatically plummet as the deep sigh left her lips. Belly was right, Conrad was smoking. Y/n had hoped their mutual friend was wrong. But, the puff of smoke being expelled from Conrad’s mouth -visible despite the dark sky that greeted them at the beach tonight-, told y/n her hope had been futile.

Conrad didn’t turn his head as he heard y/n approaching. Instead, he wiggled his toes into the cold sand under his flip-flops as he exhaled another cloud of smoke. Conrad knew by the sound of her feet shuffling in the sand, that y/n was hesitant to join him. He felt a twinge of guilt knowing he’d caused that unfamiliar tension between them. But, the guilt lessened in his body as he took another toke.

Y/n silently lowered herself onto the sand beside Conrad. She looked straight ahead, but still noticed the way he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. Y/n sat wordlessly for a few minutes as she collected her thoughts. Where to even begin?

Conrad nearly laughed when y/n finally spoke. He didn’t know how he expected her to greet him, but he hadn’t anticipated her whispered, “this isn’t you”. Conrad pulled the blunt from his lips, pinching it between his fingers as he held it before him as if inspecting it. “Maybe you don’t know me anymore,” he muttered curtly.

“Yes I do,” y/n argued, glancing over at Conrad with a slight glare. Was he actually trying to imply she didn’t know him? This was Conrad; even when he was moody, she knew his heart. When Conrad merely raised an eyebrow at her, she sighed. “Stoic wall or not,” y/n commented scoldingly, “I know you”.

“You’re still the boy who went to three stores to replace my Monsters Inc. bandaids when Belly had put mine all over her babydoll,” y/n said, smiling to herself. “The one who taught me how to surf even though I sucked at it and Jeremiah said I was a lost cause,” she murmured as she stared out at the ocean. “You’re still that boy who begged his mom to let him drive to the store to get me cold medicine when I was sick that one summer, even though you only had your learner’s permit”.

Conrad nearly smiled as he listened to y/n recount some of the memories they had together. But, the mention of his mom sent the painful stab of reality back to the forefront his mind. “Well, people change,” Conrad muttered before bringing the blunt back to his mouth.

“Maybe,” y/n nodded in contemplation. She hummed, zipping up her lightweight jacket. “But, souls don’t,” y/n argued.

Conrad coughed on the marijuana smoke from his latest toke as he laughed. “That’s so cheesy,” he teased, a sly smile on his lips. Conrad shook his head in amused disbelief, “of course you’d say that”.

Y/n smirked as she looked over at her best friend. “Like I said, souls don’t change,” she repeated smugly. She reached over and wordlessly stole the blunt from him and put it out with a smirk. When Conrad laughed some more, she smiled contentedly as she leaned back, now propped up by her elbows.

Conrad smiled appreciatively at y/n. As annoying as most people would find her behavior, it was comforting. She was still y/n. He had to fight to keep himself from staring at her lips as they somehow shone even though the sky was dusk. He needed to get his mind off the all too familiar feeling that was creeping up on him again as he felt pulled to confess his feelings towards the girl beside him. So, Conrad reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a new blunt and his lighter. He quickly turned his back to y/n so she couldn’t put it out again as he ignited the end. Once it was lit, Conrad turned around and stared back out at the crashing waves.

Y/n scanned Conrad closely. She hated that he was clearly going through something that made him feel like he had to -or should- change his mind on matters like this. Conrad had been so against smoking -especially pot- before now. She didn’t know what had changed; after all, it wasn’t like he was offering much in the way of an explanation.

“Let me have a toke,” y/n stated, reaching for Conrad’s second blunt. She huffed in annoyance when Conrad pushed her hand away from his face.

“What?!” Conrad replied with a bewildered stare. “Y-you know the words?!” he groaned, analyzing y/n as if he’d never seen her before. “How?“ Conrad questioned, his tone coming off offended.

Y/n laughed loudly, her cheeks hurting from the wide grin on her face. “We’re not 7 anymore, Con,” she reminded lightly.

Conrad hummed loudly. He gave y/n a small sad nod. “I wish we were,” he confessed quietly. Conrad could feel y/N’s intense gaze on him, but he didn’t elaborate.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/n wondered.

Conrad shrugged faintly. “Just easier back then,” he mumbled. “But, that’s not where we are now”.

Y/n hummed. “I guess not,” she agreed vaguely on the premise. “Now, let me have one,” y/n repeated her request. She once again leaned over and reached for the blunt in Conrad’s hand.

“No,” Conrad argued, chuckling as he moved away from y/n’s reach.

Y/n frowned and furrowed her brows. She crossed her arms over her chest as she turned her body towards Conrad. “Why not?” Y/n retorted.

“You don’t smoke,” Conrad said simply. He smugly held the blunt away from y/n.

Y/n huffed loudly as she raised a brow. “Neither did you,” she countered.

“No,” Conrad said shaking his head, “still not happening”. He relit the end

“Why?” Y/n repeated.

“You’re against smoking,” Conrad stated simply.

“So were you,” y/n retorted with a smug tone.

Conrad huffs loudly in frustration. But he stopped lighting up nonetheless. “Somethings change,” he shrugged.

“So then let me see,” y/n protested. She nodded at the blunt in Conrad’s hand expectantly.

“No,” Conrad practically whined.

“Conrad,” y/n groaned as she once again reached for the joint.

Conrad pulled his hand away from y/n’s reach and shook his head. “No”. “It’s not going to happen,” he told her.

“Then what’s the real reason?” Y/n pressed knowingly.

“I’m not letting you put that into your body,” Conrad admitted. He stared directly at y/n in hopes of her understanding he wasn’t playing around; she wasn’t going to take a hit.

“But it’s okay going into yours?” Y/n questioned rhetorically.

Conrad shrugged. “Who cares?” He asked dismissively.

“I do, Con,” y/n stated matter of factly.

Conrad’s lips formed a small smirk. “Really?”

“Yeah,” y/n responded with a soft nod.

Conrad gave y/n an appreciative smile and put the joint away. “Okay”. He sighed as he intentioned shifted his gaze away from the girl who could still get him to do just about anything. “Though it’s not like it matters what one does or doesn’t put in to their body,” he mumbled as he stared at the ocean.

“What do you mean?” Y/n asked. She pushed herself off her elbows so she could see Conrad better.

“You can do it all right,” Conrad began, shaking his head. “And yet, life will still fuck you,” he gloomily said as he gazed into the distance.

“Con,” y/n whispered quietly as she watched him closely. “What’re you talking about?” She questioned hesitantly. Yet, despite her soft approach, Conrad nevertheless mumbled a dejected “nothing” as he once again shut down. Y/n hummed softly and grabbed his hand as she went to lay down. As her head hit the sand, she could feel his eyes on her as he watched her closely in silence. “If, and when, you’re ready to talk about it, I’m here,” she promised.

Conrad curled his lips upwards faintly. He wordlessly shifted and moved to lie down beside y/n. Only once he was completely flat on his back, facing the dark sky did he speak. “Not going to force me to tell you? Or be mad that I don’t?”

“No,” y/n replied tenderly. She gently squeezed Conrad’s hand as she stared at the stars that had begun to shine above them. “That’s not always the best way to handle things,” she said sympathetically. She knew Jeremiah and Belly had likely given him a rough time lately given his behavior. Y/n didn’t want to add to that. She just needed him to know she was here for him.

Conrad turned onto his side so he could face y/n. He leaned forward and blinked slowly as his eyes scanned her. After finding a loose hair floating beside her cheek farthest from him, he cautiously reached over to tuck it behind her distant ear.

Y/n had been watching Conrad calmly despite the way her heart was racing at how close he was. Yet, when his breath hit her nose, she couldn’t help but make a slightly disgusted face. He didn’t smell like himself. “You smell like smoke,” she murmured as her head sunk into the sand a little more to get away from the scent.

Conrad smirked and laughed loudly. “I thought you were wanting to smoke,” he teased.

Y/n bashfully broke eye contact and let go of Conrad’s hand. She playfully pushed him into the sand as she looked away with a quiet laugh.

Conrad grinned and shook his head. “Hey,” he whispered, grabbing y/n’s hand and pulling her closer. With his head hovering over hers, he smiled warmly. “Maybe you’re right, maybe some souls don’t change,” he said blissfully.

Y/n smirked shyly. “Told you,” she replied in a whisper.

Conrad laughed and leaned forward. He closed his eyes and kissed y/n’s forehead lips, his lingering on her skin. “I’m glad yours didn’t,” he confessed as he pulled away and laid back down on the sand beside her.

Y/n bit her lip affectionately as she tried to keep the butterflies in her stomach at bay. “Yours didn’t either, Con,” she remarked, her tone sure. “You’re still there, and I’ll be here every step of the way as you get that back,” y/n promised as she squeezed his hand.

“He’s such an ass,” Jeremiah hissed as he glared at the patio door that his older brother had just stormed out of.

Y/n shot the younger Fisher a look. “Stop,” she pleaded with a sigh. She hated hearing everyone talking about Conrad behind his back. Especially like this.

“It’s true!” Jeremiah defended loudly as he threw his hands up in the air. “How do you put up with that?” He groaned as he shook his head at y/n in disbelief.

“Just,” y/n sighed again. “Leave him be, please”.

Jeremiah scoffed and raised his eyebrows dramatically. “Why?” He questioned rhetorically. “He doesn’t care about anyone else,” he seethed.

Y/n squinted pointedly at Jeremiah. “Yes he does,” she said in defense of Conrad.

“No he doesn’t,” Jeremiah argued. “I mean come on, he isn’t doing anything this summer,” he began, putting one finger up as though he was making a list.

“He’s angry all the time,” Steven agreed with a frown as he set his beer on the counter.

“You’re reading it all wrong,” y/n protested. She looked out the patio window to see if she could still see Conrad or not. “He’s not angry,” she murmured. He’s hurt. And when Conrad gets hurt, he doesn’t know how to act.

“Y/n,” Belly sighed. She walked over to her friend and set her hand on y/n’s arm sympathetically. She knew what it was like to have a crush on Conrad, except fortunately she’d gotten over it by now. Whereas Belly could tell y/n hadn’t and therefore wasn’t processing what just happened properly. “He just snapped at you for no reason,” she reminded y/n gently.

Y/n shook her head. “He’s not angry,” she mumbled again as she moved away from the group in order to go after Conrad. She knew her friends were just trying to look out for her. But, she knew Conrad. Better than anyone. And she knew that his outburst moments ago was an overreaction to a potentially dangerous situation she’d put herself in. He’d just been trying to look out for her, but his overwhelming emotions made it come out wrong. She didn’t know what those overwhelming emotions were exactly nor what was creating them; but she knew him well enough to know it wasn’t just anger as their friends claimed.

Conrad groaned to himself as he heard footsteps nearing him. He had expected that after his outburst he would be left alone. He’d overreacted when y/n had acted a bit unsafely. But, he didn’t stop there. He went so far as to lash out at her afterwards. He’d seen the worry in her eyes and hoped his subsequent lashing out at her would keep her from following after him. He didn’t want y/n to see him like this. Besides, he didn’t deserve for her to come after him after the way he’d acted.

“Conrad,” y/n greeted quietly as she walked towards him.

“Go away,” Conrad grumbled with his back still to y/n.

“No,” y/n replied defiantly as she continued her approach.

Conrad shook his head. “Y/n knock it off, I’m not in the mood. I want to be alone”.

“That’s a lie,” y/n pointed out as she came within a few feet of Conrad.

Conrad quickly spun around in frustration. “God damnit Y/n!” He shouted.

Y/n’s heart shattered and she nearly gasped as she saw the tears Conrad was trying to hold back. She shook her head and moved closer. She saw the hesitant reaction he had and could see he wanted to keep his guard up. “It’s okay,” she promised quietly. “You don’t need to say anything.” Slowly, y/n made her way across the few feet between them and over to him. She wordlessly wrapped arms around Conrad and held him. It took a few patient moments, but Conrad eventually began to fall apart in her arms. Y/n held him to her tightly as she whispered soft words of support and encouragement as he practically clung onto her.

After Conrad had calmed and a few moments of comfortable silence had passed, he glanced at y/n. “Why didn’t you just ignore me like everyone else?” He wondered. “I’m being an ass,” he admitted.

“You’re hurting, Conrad,” y/n corrected. She noticed the way he froze and as much as she wanted to know what he was thinking, she just smiled sympathetically. “I don’t know why,” she acknowledged. “I’d like to, but I don’t have to know the why in order for me to see what’s really happening”.

“I can’t..-“ Conrad muttered hesitantly. He could see how badly y/n wanted to be there for him; for him to open up so she could. But, he couldn’t. He had to keep this to himself. Even if it was tearing him apart.

“That’s fine,” y/n nodded. She wrapped her arm back around Conrad, it having slipped slightly when he pulled back to look at her. She rubbed his arm as she felt him rest up against her.

Susannah was washing up some dishes from lunch when she overheard Conrad’s name. She sighed to herself as she thought about how strangely her eldest son had been acting lately. She tried to talk to Laurel about it earlier, in hopes that maybe she either had an idea as to why he was behaving this way or that she could get through to him. Conrad has always been close with Laurel, so she felt it was worth a shot.

However, as Susannah eavesdropped on the conversation between y/n and Laurel, she realized her oversight. She hadn’t wanted to get any of the kids involved, especially not when they already seemed equally frustrated with Conrad’s behavior. But, she hadn’t noticed how compassionately y/n had been handling the whole thing. In fact, as she listened to y/n defend Conrad to Laurel just now, Susannah wished she had as much compassion as the girl somehow still had. Susannah knew Conrad had been pushing away his friends, including y/n a lot lately and was being far more difficult with them than he was to Susannah herself. Yet, Susannah had long grown frustrated with her son’s behavior nevertheless. She loved him, so much, but she despised his recent behavior; even if most of it was directed away from her. So she couldn’t help but cherish the way y/n still showed such compassion for Conrad despite being one of the people he was trying so hard to push away.

“I really think you should just let him be,” Laurel commented in a sympathetic tone. “He clearly wants to be left alone,” she pointed out.

“No he doesn’t,” y/n sighed as she sat down on one of the lounge chairs. “He’s just going through something is all,” she shrugged. She didn’t know what more to say. After all, she didn’t want to expose any secret of Conrad’s, not that she even knew what was going on currently; but, still.

Laurel shook her head sadly. “I can see that,” she remarked, “we all can”. She tsked loudly as she continued wiping down the patio side table. “Problem is, he’s too confident and thinks too highly of himself right now”.

Y/n scoffed and stood up. “No he doesn’t,” she argued. How could they all be so dense? Couldn’t they see it was clearly the opposite? Couldn’t they see that Conrad was pushing people away because he was trying to hide the fact that he was uncertain about whatever was troubling him? Y/n still might not know what it was exactly that troubled him, but she knew his actions weren’t from being overly confident.

“Look, Laurel,” y/n said evenly as she tried to maintain her frustration. “I know everyone is upset with him lately,” she sighed and ran her hand through her hair. “But, no one knows what’s truly going on. And talking about him behind his back isn’t going to help anything”. She could tell Laurel was about to reply so she quickly shook her head. “Especially not when you guys are all looking at his actions instead of trying to understand them; to understand him!” She huffed loudly as she began to slowly pace in front of the lounge chair she had once been sitting on. “Maybe you all should stop looking at the behavior and see what triggered it, what caused him to act like that”. Y/n felt sometimes both Conrad’s actions and the triggers showed his underlying emotions, but clearly they weren’t seeing it that way, so she figured changing their focus might help. With that, she shook her head and walked down the patio to the beach to clear her mind.

Susannah finished drying the dishes and made her way to her eldest son’s bedroom. She knocked and waited for permission to open the door. When it finally came, she creaked his bedroom door open and slowly made her way inside. She could tell he hadn’t done much other than be on his phone since lunch. Once again, something that wasn’t like him. Especially not during the summer, and not when y/n was around and free.

“You know,” Susannah whispered as she sat on the edge of Conrad’s mattress. She watched with a small smile as he sat up in response. “I know how you feel about her,” she told him vaguely, knowing he didn’t need her to say the girl’s name to know who she was talking about.

“Mom,” Conrad groaned with a roll of his eyes.

“Do not roll your eyes at me,” Susannah scolded lightly, resulting in Conrad nodding and giving her an apologetic look. “Anyways, Connie,” she continued, “I also know you’re pushing her away for some reason”.

Before Conrad could argue, Susannah held up her hand. “Don’t try to act as if you’re not,” she warned, “you’re pushing everyone away”. “I may not know why you’re doing it,” she sighed, grabbing her sons hand from where it was resting on the bed. “But, you’re only going to cause both of you so much more pain. She somehow seems to understand you better than anyone,” Susannah commented with a tender smile, “maybe even better than you know yourself. She’s stubborn when she cares. So, you can keep causing trouble for yourself and for her, or you can try to let her in again”.

Conrad just stared at his mom for a moment. He knew she was right. But he couldn’t. If his mom truly knew what he was dealing with, she wouldn’t be telling him it was okay to talk to someone else about it. Right? After all, she didn’t want anyone to know about it. That much he knew. But, that was already ruined as he himself knew. Perhaps one more person wouldn’t hurt. Right? Conrad shook his head. “I’m fine, mom,” he said, adding a sigh when she gave him a sad look, “really”.

“Conrad, just breathe,” y/n whispered as she held his upper bicep tenderly. “Just breathe,” she repeated. She’d followed him out from a party where he’d gotten worked up over something minor once again. And now they were on the beach as she tried to help Conrad through what appeared to be a panic attack. “I’m here, just copy my breath,” she advised calmly.

It had taken y/n several tense moments to calm Conrad down. But now they were seated on the cold sand, shoulders touching, as they stared out at the sea. Well, while Conrad stared out at the sea. Meanwhile, y/n was watching his profile closely.

“How often do you get them?” Y/n questioned softly as she took hold of Conrad’s closest hand.

“W-what?” Conrad asked, his gaze snapping towards y/n.

Y/n gave him a warm smile and squeezed his hand supportively. “The panic attacks,” she said, pausing when she saw the understanding of his experiences dawn on him. “That’s what they are, Con,” she commented. “I know because I get them too,” she added bashfully.

Conrad’s eyes squinted and he abruptly shifted to see y/n better. “What? Since when? Why didn’t y-“ he began to ask, a thousand worried questions entering his mind.

“Con, breathe,” y/n directly calmly. “I don’t usually get them in the summer,” she admitted. “As you can see, it has to do with stress and anxiety, I tend to have less of that in the summers,” she paused as a timid smile formed on her lips, “or, at least the summers I get to spend here, with you”.

Conrad felt his cheeks heat up as he bit back a smile. Only, his giddiness dissipated quickly. “And I’m ruining that with -“ he began guiltily.

“No,” y/n stated firmly as she turned to face Conrad. She shook her head. “Conrad, you’re not ruining anything,” she promised. “I don’t mind following your moody ass out of parties all summer,” she teased.

Conrad chuckled and shook his head. “I… I want to.. to tell-“ he paused and sighed as he broke eye contact with y/n. He couldn’t tell her. No matter how much it would help to get it off his chest. He didn’t want to make her have to deal with the knowledge of his mother’s condition the way he had been. Even if it meant he would still have to face this alone. “It’s a lot,” he commented vaguely as he looked back out at the waves.

Y/n hummed and leaned her head against Conrad’s shoulder. “I know,” she commented kindly. “You don’t have to tell me,” she added, nuzzling her head deeper against his shoulder. “But because I know you, because souls don’t change,” y/n said, echoing her words from an earlier conversation, “I know you feel you have to face this, whatever this is, alone”. She sighed as she lifted her head off Conrad’s shoulder in order to look him in the eyes. “But you’ve never let me face anything alone,” she smiled, “so I’d really like to help you carry the weight of whatever you’re going through, if you’ll let me”.

Conrad gave y/n a sad but appreciative smile. He reached out and shakingly tucked some loose hair behind her ear. “I want to,” he admitted, “selfishly, I want to”.

Y/n shook her head. “It isn’t selfish,” she corrected, staring back at Conrad. “You’d be letting me do this,” she argued softly.

Conrad laughed lightly. “Some souls never change,” he murmured happily as he gazed into y/n’s patient eyes. He sighed and looked away. “I … I’m not supposed to even know, but I do”.

“I see,” y/n replied slowly. “Well, you don’t have to be alone in that knowledge. And no one else has to know that either of us know,” she promised with a gentle smile.

It took time for Conrad to fully open up about what it was he had been dealing with. But, he was immensely grateful he’d pushed past his reservations to do so. Not only had he and y/n become even closer friends, he could now also not just rely on her support but also benefit from not being alone in his pain. He now had someone who was trying to reassure him that the taunting voices in his head were wrong. Someone who tried to silence the self blaming thoughts that told him it was his fault; that he should’ve seen the signs. It was something he desperately needed, especially on nights like tonight.

Conrad had finally gotten ahold of his breathing; with y/N’s help once again. But, he couldn’t ignore the thoughts that were still bouncing around in his mind. Thoughts that told him he could’ve pretended this. Thoughts that told him off for the way he’d treated everyone as a result of harboring this secret on his own for so long.

Y/n glanced over at Conrad knowingly and mentally sighed in sympathy. She shifted her butt in the sand to see him straight on and smiled when his eyes shifted from the water to meet hers. “Hey,” she commented.

Conrad chuckled and smiled back. “Hey,” he echoed, grabbing y/N’s hand as it rested between them on the sand.

“They’re wrong, ya know,” y/n promised warmly, her eyes focused in on Conrad’s. “The thoughts,” she explained gently.

Conrad felt his cheeks flush as the corner of his lips curled up even more. Of course she’d seen through him and his silence. He shook his head and rugged her hand towards him. He watched silently as y/n shifted in order to comply with his wishes. Once she was curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder again, he sighed. Conrad crooked his head and placed a gentle kiss to the side of y/N’s head. One day he’d offer her more, when he was in the right mental state to do so without risking hurting her along the way should he push people away again. For now, he simply smiled lightly to himself as he whispered, “thank you for understanding me”.

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oliver-quick-ens-my-pulse · 1 year

Text

Emotions sequel to Lust

Sebastian Sallow x f!Reader

Summary - Anon request for "I will give you my soul and both kidneys for more Sebastian smut 🥲🙏🏻 The day he calls me a “good girl”, I can die peacefully 😂"

Word Count - 1,736

Warnings - 18 + smut, characters aged up, dark!Sebastian, angst, slightly non-consenual consent scenario

A/N - I can die peacefully 😂" okay i messed myself up writing this one 🔥🔥

Sebastian felt the guilt and anger building up now that he felt sober, there were battling it out in his gut. He felt guilty about his intentions behind the potion, but at the same time he still felt angry that that was what it took. Angry at himself for not being more forward and angry at you for the same.

Your legs were relaxed around him as he layed on top of you, you forced him to look at you, "What is it Sebastian?" Your voice was soft and tired.

He sucked in his bottom lip and had a hard time making eye contact, "The potion. I - I crafted it for you and got too wasted and drank it myself."

In your post-sex brain it took you a few moments to process what it was he had just said. You felt the wind get knocked out of you and you felt completely betrayed. You let him make you vulnerable and it was all basically a lie.

You sat up quickly, shoving him off of you and clutching the bed sheets to your chest, not caring that his cum was getting all over it.

"No, Y/N, wait," he grabbed your first as you attempted to get away, but he tugged you to keep you in place.

"I still - I still wanted this. I know you did too. Merlin, you come here every day and it's all I can do not to ravish you. You walk across town like that every morning for me." You could see the arousal returning to his face. He was all pupils and flushed cheeks.

You tore your arm from his grip and stood up with tears dampening your eyes, "Then why didn't you ever? Why use some stupid position, trying to take advantage like that? I am a person Sebastian. In case you haven't noticed I'm the only one you've had for a long time."

Your voice was bitter as you left the room to scavenge for a new set of clothing and clean up the mess that you were. You couldn't decide if you were mad, hurt, scared, or all of the above. The saddest part was it's not like you couldn't have guesses the whole thing was a setup on his part. And you just stupidly fell right for it.

You collected yourself in a hurry and rushed out back to where you lodged with Sirona. You didn't want to think about Sebastian or be near him or talk about any of it.

You woke up the next morning after having spent a long day battling with yourself over what had happened. At this point you honestly hoped things would shift back to the normal they had been, where he's just busy drinking and leaving you alone. If you were being honest, that probably started the second that you left and he wouldn't even remember what happened.

So, you decided to approach the day like normal. You did take a second look at the reflection of yourself in your mirror before stepping out though. He is still a man, not an animal, he had seen other women in his life in sleeping clothes and not acted like it was anything to blush at.

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on who asked, Sebastian had layed in his bed for the rest of the day without a drop of alcohol. He felt like he was losing his mind because he couldn't stop thinking about you. He felt like a 13 year old boy again, rubbing one out every hour as images of you flashed through his mind. But the images were certainly not as innocent as they used to be.

You seemed so upset with him, but you weren't complaining at all as he dragged you around the house, tearing through your clothes and ravaging your body. You weren't the innocent player you thought yourself to be and he refused to accept it.

You said to him that he should have made a move and just been up front from the start, so that's what he was going to do. He was going to unleash his deepest, darkest desires on you.

He slept restlessly that night with his new plan in mind unable to focus on anything else. He had never craved someone in the way he craved you and after having had a taste with you, he was ruined without you.

He knew Sirona always let you stay at her home she kept here and it wasn't hard to find. It was always possible to find out someone's business here if you wanted to.

He rose early in the morning, probably way earlier than he'd been awake in months if not years. He knew you always came to him just before the sun started coming up so that it would be light by the time you did make it.

Everything in Feldcroft was spread out and people liked their space. Sebastian's home was located on a reasonable little plot of land that offered privacy with the wild shrubbery and trees taking root wherever they pleased.

He decided that he would wait for you in a private spot at the front of the property. He had taken to cleaning himself up and putting on simple thin night clothes just so nobody found him wandering around indecent if they were snooping.

An old oak with a thick base was where he waited for you, it was just private enough for his dirty thoughts.

You were sleepy walking up to the familiar scene before you and that's how you got taken off guard. A hand came down over your mouth and you had no time to react before being carried off with someone pressed against your backside.

You felt the rough bark of the tree as Sebstian pressed you up against it, rubbing himself against your backside and talking low into your ear, "I told you you were begging for it coming over like that. This is what you wanted from me right?"

He bunched up the skirt of your gown and wasted no time dipping his hand between your thighs causing you to cry out in surprise.

"I see you didn't change anything. There's still nothing beneath here but a needy cunt," he used his fingers to spread your lips and your vagina open, betraying you with wetness, "see? You're much too empty, there's a leak we have to do something about."

He pulled his hand back to spit on it before not-so-delicately applying pressure to your clit. His other hand had remained clamped to your mouth so you hadn't had the chance to say a word, but he whispered to you as he removed it, "You're going to be a good girl for me and be quiet right? You don't need everyone to know you're letting the town disgrace fuck you."

Your breathing was heavy as he removed his hand you drew blood from your lip biting it and trying to stay quiet. He let you rest for just a moment while he used both hands to pull the dress over your head discarded it on the ground.

You whimpered when he continued his assault on your sensitive spot, being unable to deny how good it felt and how turned on you were. He placed kisses on the soft skin of your neck before he took a good look at your full exposed figure.

He inhaled sharply, "Fuck, everything about you is perfect. And you're all mine out here, so exposed and engulfed in the pleasure of it."

You felt a bit ashamed at how close you were to the brink of an orgasm, but couldn't stop yourself from begging quietly, "Sebsatian, please don't stop. Please - "

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder and everything felt like it was too much; the rough bark on the tree, the pleasurable pain of his bite, the white hot feeling bubbling over form his rough finger tips.

Sebastian pulled you into his body, away from the tree as he clamped a hand over your mouth to cover your cries of ecstasy. You fell apart on him whether you wanted to or not, eyes squeezed shut tightly while he holds you close enough to force you to feel his solid cock.

"That's right, just like that. So quick for me today, you understand the urgency since the sun's about to come up right? You can't let anyone see you like this."

He let go of you and you stumbled forward, catching yourself on the tree to find steady ground. Sebastian wasted no time pulling his pants down to start stroking his swollen cock, wrapping a hand around his balls and squeezing them.

"Would you prefer to my balls slapping against your ass with every thrust or do you want to look at me while I ruin you."

You sheepishly turned around to meet the wet sounds of him jerking off. His cock was red and swollen and you couldn't keep your eyes off of it every time he pulled towards himself and the head peaked out of his foreskin.

He approached you and squeeze your backside, indicating for you to jump so he could pick you up and fit impale you between himself and the tree.

You wrapped your legs around him and he kept his eyes glued to your face the whole time he rubbed himself across your entrance. He entered you slowly at first, shuddering at the sensation of how good you felt.

"I love you, Y/N," his words were low and husky before he crashed his lips into yours with desperation and started fucking you at a much more aggressive pace.

You could feel him stretching you out and his pelvis was bumping against your still sensitive clit with every buck of his hips. Your arms were wrapped around his neck and you met his lips, tongue, and teeth mirroring his intense desire.

"F-fuck, Y/N,"

"Cum for me Sebastian, please," you whined, "finish making me yours,"

"I - I'm close - just for you. You're such a good girl, such a good little hole," with that he finished inside of you, fucking you until he couldn't catch his breath.

He rested his cheek against your shoulder as he continued to hold you up against him.

"That's what you wanted right? I told you I couldn't stand it anymore. So I took you."

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow smut #sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x oc

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curawrites · 1 year

Text

Wolf and Lamb

Graves x fem!Reader

Warnings: dub/non- con, serious power imbalance, gun sucking, gun fucking, unprotected sex, forced breeding, mentions of pregnancy, fuck or die situation, mentions of injury, gross Graves, Graves flirting

Note: This takes place during the Alone mission. C/S = call sign.

This is pure filth and I DO NOT CONDONE ANY OF THIS! Practice safe sex! 💚

“Well look what we have here…” the attractive southern twang of Graves voice was unmistakable as you herd approaching footsteps.

You took a deep shaky breath, pushing yourself further back into the wall while cradling your injured shoulder. You look up to find Graves towering over you, hand gun firmly held and aimed towards you.

“Fuck you Graves.” You spat, tone dripping in venom.

He looked at your with a quirked brow, “I expected more respect from you C/S..” he said as he took a few steps forward. “I thought you and I had a little thing going~. Thought you’d run away with me~“ he smiled handsomely.

You glared at him, “I’d rather you shoot me in the head.”

“Oh ho ho, spicy one you are, very well then. Guess I’ll just kill y’a.” He said before pulling out a knife, “I’ll make sure to take my time..” he took a step forward.

You coward further into the wall, you really wanted to hate Graves, but part of you still held on to all the longing gazes, the flirty banter, the subtle touches. But you valued you life a lot more that whatever kind of relationship you and Graves had.

Noticing your panic Graves smirked, “Not up for it now, sugar?”

You shot him a glare, he only chuckled before kneeling in front of you.

“I could never dream of killing such a sweet lookin thing like you~” he smirked at you, looking you over pervertedly, “You want to live don’t you C/S?”

You nodded silently at his question.

“Then your going to be a good girl and let me take off all of what’s covering up that pretty body of yours~” he slid the knife back into its rightful place.

You nodded slightly, the guilt and shame already washing over you but mixed with the slight arousal flickering to life inside the pit of your tummy.

He started by taking off your reflective goggles and mask, he took a moment to stroke your cheek, “Knew you were pretty under all this~” he licked his lips before tossing the items to the side.

He continued to take off all your gear and clothes. At long last he took your striped boxers the last piece of clothes off your body, carelessly throwing it to the side before looking over your now naked body.

He wolf whistled, “Look at you..~ such gorgeous body~” he forced your legs open with his own.

Still clutching your poorly bandaged shoulder, you had no strength nor wanted to put up a fight against him. Your legs graciously fell open.

“Fuck.. look at that pretty cunt..~” Graves licked his lips.

You glared daggers into his soul but blushed non the less.

“Don’t look at me like that, sugar~” he smirked before pulling out his gun again.

You watched, glancing up at him suspiciously.

“Now Sargent.. I want you to be a good girl and open you pretty mouth~” he put the gun right at your lips, “and I’m not afraid to shoot.” He warned.

With a glare you opened your mouth and let Graves push his gun into your mouth.

“Atta girl~” he praised making your Pusey flutter at the praise.

You sucked on the gun obediently, gagging softly when Graves thrusts it a bit to far down your throat.

After a few minutes he pulled the gun out of your mouth, the weapon was dripping with your saliva. The after taste of metal lingered in your mouth as you watched him trail the slick gun down your bare torso, all the way down to your wet cunt.

“Graves.” You said as your squirmed to get away.

“Ah, ah, ah..” He warned, “Stay fucking still.” He spat.

He pressed the gun to your clit, moving it in gentle circles sending sparks of pleasure up you spine before trailing it farther down to your opening. He shoved the gun inside you with ease thanks to your spit and slight wetness. You gasped in horror and in shock at the intrusion. He started rubbing your clit while thrusting his gun in and out of your pussy making you moan softly.

The sensation of his gun rubbing against your inner walls was strange and uncomfortable but it was overshadowed by the pleasure building up inside of you thanks to the stimulation on your clit. Graves kissed you sloppily, sucking and nibbling at you bottom lip. You could only mewl and whimper into his mouth.

You came with a loud sob of pleasure, glaring at Graves with tear filled eyes while tears cascaded down you cheeks. You were utterly ashamed that you enjoyed your orgasm.

“There you go, Sugar~ didn’t that feel fucking amazing~” Graves purred stroking away your tears while pulling out the gun from your pussy and shoving it into your mouth again.

He made you clean all your juices from the gun before putting it away in its holster on his belt which he was now unbuckling.

He crawled over you, sucking and kissing your neck and face while rubbing his hard cock in between your slick folds. Your cunt fluttered still recovering from your orgasm.

“You’ve been such a good girl for me C/S~” Graves purred as he played with your tits.

He slid his cock inside you, eliciting a sharp gasp which he silenced by kissing your lips. He was much bigger than you expected, and stretched your cunt deliciously.

“Fuck sugar~ you feel so fucking amazing~” Graves said as he started to thrust inside you.

You blushed completely and utterly embarrassed and flustered by his comment and the obscene noises your slick cunt was making.

His slow thrusts quickly morphed into fast and hard thrust that repeatedly bruised your cervix. Tears continued to run down your cheeks from both pleasure and shame.

“Fuck baby~” he groaned, “M’gonna fucking breed y’a~ gonna give you a sweet baby boy~” his cock twitched inside of you, “no.. I’m gonna give you fucking twins~ two sweet little baby boys~ fuck yeah~” he said as he sighed in pleasure.

Grave’s comments made you pussy tighten around his cock. He let out a soft hiss before pressing your legs to your chest to continue pounding into you.

He rubbed quick circles of your clit, not bothered to be gentle, only wanting you to cream his cock.

When you climaxed you moaned loudly, gripping his shoulders tightly as you pussy squeezed around his cock.

“Fuuuck!~ m’cumming~” he groaned thrusting into you deeply before he flooded your insides with his seed.

The warmth that spread inside you made you let out a soft noise of pleasure.

You and Graves went for two more rounds before he left you in the crumbling home, naked, leaking cum and feeling utterly ashamed and filthy.

You weakly and slowly put on you clothes, you hissed in pain as you moved your shoulder.

Suddenly your radio buzzed, “Ghost to C/S how copy?” Ghost’s gravely voice echoed in the silence.

You grabbed the device with a shaky hand.

“C/S to Ghost… I-“ You tried to speak but something inside you wouldn’t allow you, to ashamed to admit what you had just done.

“C/S are you alright?” Ghost asked.

“No..” you sobbed, “Graves- he.. fuck.. he.” You couldn’t get any words out but it seemed Ghost had picked up on what you were trying to communicate.

“Can you still get to the church C/S?” He asked

“Negative lieutenant.. my shoulder is injured and I can’t.. walk..” You respond wiping your tears frantically.

“I’m leaving the church right now C/S sit tight. Where are you?” He said before informing soap to stop heading for the church.

“I’m in the house beside the coffee shop..” you muttered as you put your mask and goggles back on.

“Copy that. Sit tight.” He said before your radio went silent.

You stuff the radio back in its pocket on your vest and sit on the floor. Letting your thoughts consume you…

#philip graves x reader #cod x reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #philip graves x you #graves x you #philip graves #mw2 x reader #mw2022 #mw2 fanfic #graves x reader #cod smut #mwii x reader

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 years

Text

GOD I AM NOT YOUR STRONGEST WARRIOR/j

***Glorious Masquerade spoilers beneath the cut!!***

ROLLO LORE ROLLO LORE ROLLO LORE 👀

ROLLO FLAMME UNIQUE MAGIC REVEAL, I REPEAT: ROLLO FLAMME UNIQUE MAGIC REVEAL>>>?!?!?!??!?!??>!>@@ WE GET THE INCANTATION FOR ITR TOO?????

“Crimson flower, scorch my soul and guide me. Dark Fire!” (Translation generously provided by @mysteryshoptls, who is currently on hiatus)

Note that the line itself says “身”, which more closely translates to “physical body/myself”. “Scorch my soul” is a phrase lifted from the lyrics of Hellfire, the Disney song, and fits with the “salvation” tone and theming.

Please also note that the “crimson flower” he’s referring to in the incantation is NOT literally referencing the crimson flowers (the magic sucking plant he cultivated in the waterways); he’s not controlling or influencing the flowers in any way (other than having grown them). The “crimson flower” of the incantation is metaphorical and likely refers to the fire that covers his body afterwards (as the actual flowers are described to closely resemble real fire).

“くすぶる欲望”, the name for Rollo’s unique magic is spoken aloud as “Dark Fire”, but it is written as “Burning Desire”. Again, this is a lyric lifted from the lyrics of Hellfire.

Rollo’s UM literally engulfs his body in flames, which he can freely control firebending lol. The magical fire is fueled by others’ fear and uneasiness.

ROLLO’S IN HIS RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS ERA, HE’S FINALLY EMBRACING HIS INNER ARSONIST I KNEW HE COULD DO IT I KNEW HE COULD LOSE HIS SHIT

ALSO, WE WERE SUPER CLOSE WITH THE DEAD LITTLE BROTHER THEORY 😭 Apparently Rollo’s little brother died very young. He unlocked his magic before Rollo did; he played around with his magical abilities and acted recklessly with them. He performed a fire spell he couldn’t control… which ended up claiming his life. Rollo wasn’t able to help him, as he unlocked his magic AFTER his little brother was already dead (and he claims that he is absolved of fault because he didn’t have magic at the time but come on, I think we all realize he probably has internalized guilt over it). Because of this, he resents magicians for not doing anything to help moderate or to restrain his brother’s magic use.

HE’S CRYING, ROLLO IS CRYING

BRUH 😔 YOU REALLY GOT TA HIT US IN THE FEELS LIEK THIS????????????? I FEEL MY HEART BREAKING I’M NOT MADE OF STONE I’M NOT MADE OF SOMETHING STRONGER I’M LITERALLY GLASS RIGHT NOW

(THIS PART IS THEORIZING + ANALYSIS but there’s a flashback to Rollo’s past… and when his little brother calls out to him for help, there are rising flames in the background. This implies that his little brother died burning alive because he couldn’t control a fire spell… and Rollo couldn’t help even if he wanted to because he hadn’t gotten his own magic yet. As Azul points out, he must have been so conflicted when his own magical abilities awakened. THEN ROLLO LEARNS THE MAGIC THAT MAKES HIM “UNIQUE” IS ASSOCIATED WITH FIRE 🤡

Imagine how fucking traumatic that must be if his little brother was lost in the flames… And if that’s true, then it explains why Rollo has dialogue which implies he’s unhappy with himself, that he views his own magic as being “cursed”, on top of forming a disdain for magic (and particularly those who overindulge in it as his brother once did). Losing his brother would have made such a big impact on Rollo that it literally SHAPED what his unique magic would be… That death was an extremely traumatic formative experience. Then, in a cruel twist of fate, Rollo sees his own magical abilities are a constant reminder that he could not save his loved one, and the form it has taken is like a sin and the guilt he cannot scrub from himself. Rollo’s body literally sets on fire when he uses his unique magic—a horrifyingly reminder of his little brother’s body burning to a crisp before his eyes.

What must Rollo be thinking in that moment when he discovered his unique magic and every time he uses it after that? I can control the fire that my brother couldn’t. I survive when this fire consumes me, and my brother didn’t. Uh, no wonder why he describes his magic as “repulsive” 😔 and no wonder why he’s not scared to lose his own magic. He, in fact, believes it will be liberating.

And the fact that his Dark Fire is powered by negative emotions????? That’s… such a scary manifestation of Rollo’s own dark thoughts and emotions. The worse people feel, the worse the flames become… the stronger Rollo’s internalized guilt, the more hateful he became, until it ultimately culminated in this plot to steal all the magic from Twisted Wonderland. In his eyes, any amount of magic is dangerous—too little, and mages becomes jealous. Too much, and they become arrogant. Magic is that evil, the unease and the fear, that propels Rollo and his unique soul-defining spell.

Dark Fire fittingly defines him, his obsession, and his ambition. Most importantly, it gives him drive, and a cause to work toward. It is Rollo’s guiding light in an otherwise dark, sin-drenched world. This is reflected even in the incantation: “Scorch my soul and guide me.” Rollo’s “sin” is also, very ironically, the hope that propels him toward is own brand of “salvation” at the expense of all other magic users. Like Idia says, Rollo tries ro justify his actions by claiming it is for the good of all when, in reality, Rollo is just seeking salvation for himself. He wants to come to terms with all the guilt he has been burdened with: seeing his brother burn, coming down with the curse of magic, the blight of his unique magic… GOD HE’S. SO AWFUL OTL BUT ALSO SO DARK AND COMPLEX)

asgk dihasbioasbiadfbiadfbafds Anyway, back to canon!!

SO THEY BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF ROLLO AND. His punishment for all of this is… Well, none of his crimes are shared with people outside of NRC (like how they try to contain news of Jamil and Vil’s OBs in the main story) 😂 so Rollo still remains “pure” in the eyes of the NBC mobs that adore him, BUT he has to deal with the internal moral dilemma and turmoil.

Truly fitting for a villain who has already internalized so much self-hatred and guilt… Oh yeah, and he dances with Malleus at the end 😂 Happily ever after, I guess??

#twst #twisted wonderland #Malleus Draconia #Rollo Flamme #disney twisted wonderland #spoilers #notes from the writing raven #flame body Rollo resembles Esmeralda dancing in the fireplace #twst theory #twisted wonderland theory #twisted wonderland theories #twst analysis #twisted wonderland character analysis #twst character analysis #twisted wonderland analysis #d does this count as Rollo rot 😔#GOD I LOVE DEAD FAMILY DRAMA IT’S SO JUICY #it’s such a good literary device for angst 😈#Rollo Flamm

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casdeans-pie · 1 year

Text

"Close Your Eyes, Dean."

The field he’d chosen was empty and wide open, with grass swaying lazily in a calm breeze, lit up brightly by the roundness of a large full moon. Almost too perfect – as all nights in Jack’s Heaven were.

But it was a great spot for what he wanted, Dean thought.

“C’mon man, I’m already dead, this body in heaven isn’t even real. What’s seeing your true form gonna do? Burn out my non-existent eyes?”

“It might,” Cas rumbled. A muscle twitched in his clenched jaw.

“You’re such a shitty liar, you know that right?”

Cas sighed and his broad shoulders slumped down into a slouch that made his trench coat look baggy and crumpled on him. His eyebrows downturned as he looked up at Dean from under his lashes and sad, sad hooded eyes. “I don’t…” he started, swallowed, and tried again, “I don’t want you to see me any differently. This is more me than anything else now.”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his mouth, guilt twisting in his gut – unable to resist the power of that expression. “Dammit Cas, I won’t pressure you, but you know nothin’ like that is gonna bother me. So what if you’ve got tentacles or a hundred eyes or whatever-”

“-I don’t have tentacles,” Cas interjected.

“-Point is, you’ll always be this dorky little guy to me no matter what you’ve got stuffed inside,” Dean said.

Cas squinted his eyes and straightened up. “That feels like a backhanded compliment.”

Dean laughed with enough force that his head threw backwards. He shook his head with amusement and felt himself mirroring the smile he’d finally coaxed out of Cas.

Dean reached over and patted his shoulder fondly. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep working on being sincere.”

Green eyes met blue, and Dean’s chest warmed with the intensity of his affection.

Cas was still looking at him with a sad tilt to his eyes, but the pain had gone out of his expression. Moonlight highlighted strands of his dark hair, ruffling slightly in the breeze, and picked out the blue colour of his tie against his white shirt. It was just Cas. No matter what.

Dean took a breath and looked up at Heaven’s stars, shining in a pattern that he wondered if Jack had designed himself. Probably. The kid loved stuff like that.

“I mean it though Cas. Nothing you show me’s gonna change how I feel,” Dean said. Exactly what those feelings were, he wasn’t exactly sure… but that was a train of thought for another day. One life changing event at a time. Dean brought his gaze back down, though he swore he could still see the stars reflected in the blue of Cas’ eyes. “You’ve seen me at some of my worst, man. You literally met me in Hell.”

Cas stared with such dedicated focus, like Dean was the only thing that was worth paying attention to in the whole world, and it made pleasant sparks skitter through his veins.

But Cas said nothing in reply, he simply waited for Dean to continue, as if he was always enraptured by anything he had to say.

It was an intensity that Dean had so much affection for. So much. So freaking much-

“You saw me as a Demon,” Dean said quickly, drowning out his thoughts before he could go to a place that he knew was coming but wasn’t quite ready for tonight. “And you still… You still saved me. You still stayed with me. You still said… Shit, what did I even look like as a Demon? Like, my ‘true face’ or whatever?” Dean tripped over his words as he struggled to push down his feelings. “Actually, y’know what, I don’t wanna know- doesn’t matter-”

“You were beautiful,” Cas said in a warm, quiet rumble, even though his gaze was still just as intense. “You’ve always been beautiful. Even then. You’re still just Dean Winchester, no matter what. The most beautiful soul I’ve ever encountered and ever will.”

“Cas…” Dean sucked in a deep breath through his teeth, while those skittering pleasant tingles across his skin increased. There was a warmth at the back of his neck and a heat blazing in his chest. He swallowed thickly, past the lump growing in his throat. “Then you know I feel about seeing Angel-You,” he eventually managed, keeping the eye contact.

Cas finally blinked and looked down at his feet. He shuffled them a little and it was such a nervous human gesture that it made Dean smile.

“Close your eyes,” Cas commanded, in a voice that reminded Dean of when they first met.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up in excitement. “Seriously? You’re doing it?” Cas gave him a flat look and Dean held up his hands in the air in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay, I just- I mean, this is gonna be awesome.”

“Close your eyes, Dean.”

The commanding tone coupled with Cas saying his name certainly did something to him, but again, not the time to examine that. Dean cleared his throat and closed his eyes. Everything went dark. “This the part where you tell me, ‘Be not afraid’?”

A bright blue light shined past his eyelids and Dean shielded them with his arm, while he became aware of a shrill noise that rose higher and higher until he had to abandon his eyes for pressing his hands flat over his ears. He scrunched his face tight at the assault to his senses.

Finally, the light faded and there was silence.

“Cas? You, uh- you okay there, buddy?” Dean asked, with his eyes still closed, guilt and concern churning in his gut.

-It is safe to open your eyes-

Dean winced again at the high-pitched whining that accompanied the voice, like bad feedback from a busted stereo.

-Apologies… It has been… a while since I’ve used this frequency-

The whining noise stopped mid-sentence and Dean could finally just hear the voice. Cas’ voice. His true voice. It sounded like a mixture of twinkling wind chimes and a single, long, resonant note plucked on the string of a harp.

Dean flung his eyes wide open and felt his whole body lock up at the sight. “Cas?” he croaked, almost unable to believe what he was looking at.

Gone was the man in the trench coat and tie, and in his place stood what looked like a giant crow – easily the size of a house. The huge crow was covered in gleaming black feathers, giving off a sparkle of blue that shimmered and glowed in the air around it, and Dean noticed that the feathers themselves, seemingly black at first, shined with an iridescent spectrum whenever they moved slightly and caught the moonlight. Its black, almost scaly legs ended in silver talons that looked like they were made from the same material as an Angel Blade, the same silver that its sharply curved beak seemed to be made of. It flashed wickedly as the crow leaned down to preen its chest feathers suddenly, like a nervous habit. When it straightened back up Dean’s attention shifted to the long, thin ring above its head – spinning slowly and blazing with a fiercely bright blue fire that cracked and popped blue embers into the night. They floated up and disappeared, past the faint outlines of many blue eyes that were suspended above the halo, blinking in and out of focus.

Finally, Dean looked at the crow’s face. Straight into two glowing blue eyes.

Not a crow.

Castiel.

Cas.

-Uh... Be not afraid?-

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

Continued in part 2 soon

#this was so much fun to write even if nobody reads it lmao #trueform!cas #castiel's trueform #destiel #destiel ficlet #destiel fanfiction #my fanfiction #deancas #I'll probably put it on ao3 after I finish the second part!#please go easy on me this is the first time I've ever written these two!! ;;#pie's projects

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thewhumperinwhite · 3 months

Text

WKW: Spine

Masterpost // Previous

@annablogsposts @whump-cravings @whumpitywhumpwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @favwhumpstuff @the-monarch-whumperfly @iboopsstuff (also: i finally added a taglist to my main wkw doc, so please send me a message if you wanna be on that list)

TW for: back injury; burns; Magical Injury/painful healing; guilt; Injury To The Degree That It Is Kind Of Body Horror; potential/partial paralysis; referenced past abuse/murder; referenced noncon; nonsexual nudity (brief/implied).

----

Night has barely fallen when they bring the dying Prince to Feira’s salon. By the time she has stitched him together enough to leave him sleeping on her table, his face shadowed and aura flickering but death no longer crouching on his chest, the sun is streaming through the salon’s single window and directly into Feira’s eyes. She collapses back into the single chair that sits opposite her table, wiping sweat and stray strands of grey hair from her forehead with the least bloody part of her sleeve.

It should not have taken this long.

Spines are delicate things, and the care with which she knits one back together will mean the difference between a Prince who someday walks again and one who doesn’t; but she has studied the inner workings of the spine extensively, ever since she put the Prince’s back together from whole cloth after his botched execution. This was never going to be easy, but it should certainly be possible.

It takes her twenty long, harrowing minutes to identify the problem, as she has never encountered anything quite like it before. The iron manacle, clamped to the stump of the Prince’s wrist, is drinking in her magic. Sucking it up like a rag in a puddle. By the end of that first twenty minutes, she is sweating with effort, the Prince is still writhing with the effort of each breath, and when she happens to brush the manacle with the back of her hand, she draws back with a hiss. The metal is hot enough to burn her skin.

Feira is familiar with iron as an insulator against magical energy, of course. Magic-resistant armor is always made of iron; one of the earliest ways to recognize magical aptitude in a child is a rash-like reaction to the touch of iron. But she’s never seen anything like this before. She takes hold of the Prince’s wrist to examine the manacle—seeing, now, the way his skin is already reddening from the heat—and sees the unfamiliar rune welded into the metal. It can be no accident: it must be an intentional damper on the Prince’s magic.

There are—implications, there. About the fall of Fourshield House; about claims that the White Crane has made. None of which Feira has time to think about now, while the Prince is dying on her table, and she does not have the key to his cursed shackle.

It is—not an insurmountable obstacle. But it does mean that Feira must dig deeper into her Patron’s magical reserves than she ever has before, must strain her own aura to the point of pain and dig deeper into the Prince’s soul than she would ever have done given the choice—and must close her eyes to how the skin of his arm reddens and then blisters. The Prince slips in and out of awareness throughout the night; sometimes he is even awake enough to beg for mercy, though he never seems coherent enough to know who his torturer is, and Feira is shamefully grateful for that.

In the end, he still—has an arm, however useless it is without a hand attached. It is a horrible sun-scorched red up to the elbow; the place where the manacle once touched skin has burned down deep into the flesh beneath; in between the skin has bubbled and blistered in ways that make Feira have to stop in the middle and waste seconds she doesn't have gulping air and trying not to be sick. And even then—a spine is a finnicky thing. She may have twisted his arm beyond repair without even returning the use of his legs. She doesn’t know. Certainly he will be well within his rights to hate her to the end of his days, for these hours of torture if not for the years of neglect that preceded them.

But he does not die.

----

Thorne does not expect to fall asleep, not even when he gives up on pacing the hallway and sits down outside the Healer’s door with his forehead pressed to his knees and his eyes squeezed shut. Andry is not screaming as much, by then. Thorne doesn’t know if that means the pain has lessened, or the Prince’s throat has simply given out.

He doesn’t know how long he sleeps; he doesn’t even know it's happened until he hears his Master’s voice—he knows it immediately, even in sleep, and is halfway to his feet before he is fully awake or his Master has finished the sentence—say, “What are you doing here?”

Thorne snaps to attention, though he has to grab the wall to keep from falling over while his vision clears. Morden is looking at him with blank surprise but no anger, thank the gods. Morden looks like he hasn't slept, either, and for some reason there is a smudge of blood near one corner of his jaw, like he has tried to wipe it away and not quite succeeded.

“Master,” Thorne says, his mind blessedly blank with relief. “I was—” Part of him knows he is not being careful enough, that he is too tired and wrung out to pay attention to what he says, that he must no better, by now, than to speak to his Master without thinking first.“Someone—I wanted to—they almost killed him, Master,” he blurts out. He sounds like a child to his own ears; high pitched and near tears.

Morden blinks at Thorne. Thorne cannot read his Master's face. That sends an immediate spike of panic into Thorne's guts that brings him halfway back into his body, thankfully. He pulls himself together, with a mighty effort, and bows his head properly, like he is giving an ordinary report, and his voice is almost steady, this time.

“There was an attempt on the Summer Prince’s life, Master,” Thorne says, without lifting his head. “I was—absent from my quarters at the time. I apologize for not taking more care with your gift.”

He should say more. He should tell Morden about the guards. Even if... they were enlisted men, not officers, but Morden might still notice their absence. Thorne didn’t even think to look around the Healer’s room' their bodies might be right inside the door for all he knows. He should tell Morden.

(The word "gift" shouldn't make his mouth fill up with bile, like he's going to gag on what his Master has given him. He should be anticipating his Masters needs and striving to meet them. He shouldn't be thinking about his Master's needs and feeling—feeling—)

(Morden, for his part, is afflicted with a strong desire to laugh. Thorne, his head still bowed, does not see this. Morden schools his features carefully before Thorne meets his eyes.)

“…I see,” Morden says. “And was that attempt successful?”

Thorne shakes his head.

“No, Master,” he says. “No, he—he’s alive. But—I—they—” The words do not want to come. But his Master is watching, so he makes them. “His back is broken, I think,” he says, though it comes out thin and whispery and wrong.

Morden raises his eyebrows. Thorne looks at the blood on his Master’s jaw. His Masters next words are muffled by the sudden buzzing in Thorne’s ears.

“I imagine he'll be fine,” Morden says, and brushes past him to open the Healer’s door.

----

Andry knows the ceiling of the Healer’s room as soon as he opens his eyes. It is decorated with vines and fruit and beehives, sculpted out of white plaster, cracked a little with age.

He feels cracked that way himself. He doesn’t try to move his arm, but even in stillness it feels

(like it is filled with crawling insects who are eating it from the inside like old wood like it is in a sleeve of struck matches like it has swollen so far that the skin has split like rotten meat left in the sun)

bad.

The door of the Healer’s room opens. Andry does not see who has entered, at first; he only sees Lady Feira, the old Court Healer, leap to her feet, placing herself bodily between him and the intruder.

“No,” Lady Feira says, in thickly-accented Leisevan. “No visitors. Get out.”

“Now is a bad time to be in my way, Madam Healer,” the Winter King says in a soft, gentle voice. His Craetan is very good, as always.

Andry feels his heart stutter painfully in his chest, but it has been a long, long night, and he is too tired to feel properly afraid.

Lady Feira is shaking her head. “No. It is enough. You have done enough, you will do no more, I will not—”

Andry takes hold of the Healer’s wrist with his good hand. She stills, though he can feel that she is trembling slightly.

“It’s alright, Feira,” he rasps.

Lady Feira turns to look down at him, over her shoulder. She looks—stricken in a way he has never seen her look before, even when his fever came back a few weeks after his back had begun to heal. He might feel sorry for her, in a few hours. He is too tired for it, just at the moment.

Lady Feira removes her spectacles and rubs her eyes, letting her shoulders sag and not looking at either Andry or Morden.

“Fine,” she says, after a moment, in Craetan. “Fine. Speak, Winter King; but do no more or you will waste the hours I have just spent keeping the Prince alive.”

Andry can see just enough of Morden over the Healer’s shoulder to see him cross his arms and raise his eyebrows at her expectantly. The Healer swears under her breath. She turns back to Andry.

“Don’t try to move,” she says curtly. Her expression seems more under control, though her eyes are still tight with misery. “I won’t go far.”

It’s—kind enough, as a sentiment. Andry knows she can do less than nothing against Morden, any more than he can. It’s nice that she's—thinking of him, he supposes.

Morden watches her leave. When she has closed the door behind her, he turns to look down at Andry, narrowing his black eyes.

Morden pulls up the Healer’s chair and sits down beside the sickbed. The Healer has draped a blanket across Andry's chest; it is the only thing between him and the Winter King. Andry tucks his ruined arm underneath it.

“Alright, Summer Prince," Morden says. "You've got my attention. Tell me about your sister.”

#the winter king's ward #original whump #fantasy whump #royalty whump #broken bones #magical healing #painful healing #guilt #manipulative whumper #brainwashing and manipulation #<-it's not like Being Done in this chapter but thorne is. Feeling Some Cognitive Dissonance and he Doesn't Like It #back injury tw #burns tw #referenced noncon

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captinkirc · 2 years

Text

i wanna fucking tear you apart (demon!eddie munson x steve harrington) 18+ only

Summary: Steve Harrington; tired, alone, guilt-ridden, comes home to find a mystery unfolding at his front door. Someone special lays in wait for him, ready to finally stake their claim.

Word Count: 5.7k

[content warnings: swearing, demon/incubus!eddie, hurt/comfort, gay sex, choking and brief fighting, hand/ring!kink]

PT. 2 PT. 3

———————

One thing to learn when living in Hawkins, (somewhat) fondly called “Satan’s Asshole” by a certain amalgamation of teens, is that once life gets somewhat good, be prepared for things to take a very, very sharp left turn.

As if Hawkins needed yet another disaster on its hands. A 7.4-magnitude earthquake, dozens of people dead, weird spore rain, and yet somehow, a witch hunt persisting through it all. Because honestly, who would believe them if they told the truth? Eddie Munson is dead in the Upside Down because he dared to play the hero.

‘For the first and last time,’ Steve thought, heart clenching tight. Bile rose quickly in his throat as he turned onto his street.

He’d been dreading this moment for days; going home to an empty, too quiet house to be alone with his thoughts. However, Robin had finally managed to shoo him away with a sharp look and complaints that he was starting to smell and his hair looked a mess. He’d tried, albeit halfheartedly, to insist on helping with closing down the makeshift relief shelter for the night, but even he knew that things were starting to catch up with him.

There were only so many things around town that Steve could offer help with before nagging memories and feelings that he couldn’t quite put words to bubbled up and consumed his thoughts. Despite feigning ignorance, the knot in his stomach tightened with each day he woke up, grasping onto dreams of final moments and tears and a regretful look in a pair of soulful, brown eyes. He definitely didn’t dream of the feeling of ringed fingers and frizzy curls and a mouth permanently set in a teasing smile, that’s…that’d be crazy, right? Dreaming about what could have been if he had looked a little deeper. Stepped out of this self imposed box a bit sooner.

Maybe he should have asked Robin to stay over tonight. Steve pulled his car up the driveway, lingering in his seat as he turned to grab his bag from the back. The collection of tapes they had gathered in preparation for facing Vecna were still strewn over his passenger seat; a small shudder ran through him. ‘Definitely won’t be planning on listening to any Kate Bush anytime soon’. His eyes definitely didn’t linger on the Master of Puppets tape and the rows and rows of white crosses that felt a little too on the nose.

Swallowing down that feeling, Steve reluctantly hauled himself out of the car, kicking up gravel as he shuffled up to the front door —

A sharp chill ran up Steve’s spine, settling at the back of his neck and thrumming something familiar in the back of his mind as the hairs on his body stood on end — his hand automatically slapped over his neck and rubbed at it harshly. His eyes swept across the tree line, squinting as he tried to focus on any sign of movement in the darkness.

Nothing. Maybe it was nothing?

Though if he’d learned anything over the past few years, it would be that whatever whacked out shit you had nightmares about could be very, very real. Suddenly, Steve felt incredibly vulnerable without his trusty baseball bat in hand. He looked back to his car, abruptly aware at how far the mere steps he had taken to the door now felt like football fields away. Better to just get inside and hope for the best. Just a few more steps.

The door was already open.

‘I definitely locked the doors the last time, right? Just being paranoid, that’s all. I remember locking the doors but what if I didn’t and my head just says I did because I’ve locked them so many times—’

Eyes gone a little wild searching the dark as his heart hammered in his chest, Steve sucked in a deep breath and toed the door open with the tip of shoe.

Before he could even think to fumble for the hall light switch, in a flash a hand had wrapped around his throat and yanked him through the threshold — Steve let out a choked-off shriek as he was whipped around, his back twinging painfully as he was thrown against the wall. Steve thrashed in the unnaturally strong hold, metal biting into the delicate skin of his already bruised throat.

In a whirl of panic, he scrabbled against the tight grasp the intruder had on his throat and kicked out desperately for anything that was in range — a string of curses erupted from the dark as he made purchase with what he could only assume was a leg.

The hand fell away and Steve gasped for air, reaching blindly for something, anything, to defend himself with — his hand wrapped around an umbrella handle.

Jesus Christ — hopefully no one finds my dead body holding onto a fucking umbrella for dear life.

Steve swung wildly in a wide circle to fend off the intruder, he finally made purchase again and knocked a loud grunt out of them. With a surge of adrenaline, he rounded in on spot the noise came from, bashing the umbrella down on the dark shape crumpled on the floor till gave a vicious crack as it split in two in his hands.

“Fuck — Stop it! Stop! — An umbrella, Steve? Shit!”

Huh?

Still shaking and panting heavily, Steve collapsed back against the wall, his fingers skating across the surface to the light switch and flicking it on, simultaneously terrified and desperate to see the source of that too familiar voice.

Huddled on the floor, covering his head with ringed fingers, was a familiar shape in a familiar leather jacket and familiar torn jeans— Steve let out a watery breath, knees wobbling dangerously beneath him.

“Eddie?”

The figure turned its head, and an accusing, deep brown eye peeked out at Steve from behind his hands, eying him carefully. Steve’s knees finally gave out and he slid against the wall into a heap on the floor. What the fuck? What the fuck?!

“Fuckin’ hell” Eddie groaned, “you done with the whole Last House re-enactment yet?”

“I’m dreaming. I’ve officially lost it, that’s all this is. A nightmare!” Steve cried out; he tried shakily to get to his feet, but his knees protested the move and his feet went out from under him. Across from him, Eddie slowly unfolded, sitting up against the wall with a grunt.

‘Fuckin’ tell me about it, you trying to kill me a second time?”

“You’re the one that broke into my house! You jumped me!”

“Look, I didn’t know who it was — “

“Who else would it be, this is my house!”

“Yeah, alright, I’m sorry okay?”

They both lapsed into silence, and Steve finally took a good look at Eddie. Besides the obvious dry, red stains and familiar holes and tears littering his signature Hellfire shirt, under the abundance of dirt smears and unnervingly pale color to his skin, he looked frighteningly…fine. Not even a scratch on him.

“Take a picture, Harrington, it might last longer.”

Steve sputtered indignantly, eyes snapping back up to meet Eddie’s, deciding quickly not to acknowledge to growing smirk on his face. There was an odd look in his eyes — their normal curiosity and warmth overlayed with…something else. Something far too comfortable and unbothered for someone who had just played out their own personal performance of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

But he’s alive.

As if pulled by an invisible string, Steve found himself suddenly overcome with the need to touch him, the urgency itching at his palms and hammering against his ribs. Steve shifted, tucking his still-jelly legs under himself and carefully, like approaching a spooked animal, crawled the short distance across the hall towards him. Eddie watched him carefully as Steve settled his hands on the torn holes in the knees of his jeans and nudged at them gently, pressing forward and making room for himself between them.

Steve kneeled quietly, disbelieving — his hands skated gently over Eddie’s shoulders before wrapping around him and pulling the unnervingly silent man into a hug.

“How…?” he whispered into his hair, squeezing his arms tight around Eddie’s shoulders; he definitely didn't shudder as those calloused hands that had set up camp in his dreams, finally settled around his waist, fingers slipping stealthily under the hem of his sweatshirt and pressing against his skin.

“Don’t think too hard about it, Stevie. Might break that big brain of yours.”

Steve pulled back from the hug to inspect him closer, pointedly trying to ignore the anxious flutter in his chest when Eddie’s hands remained firmly wrapped around his waist — and the nagging thought that this delicate reunion was very quickly slipping from a casual, friendly thing into dangerous territory. Steve stared down at Eddie, still trying to piece together and rationalize what he remembered happening with…this.

This just couldn’t be right…right? It’s fine. Don’t overthink it.

“I never thought I’d see the day that King Steve willingly crawls into my lap,” Eddie chuckled, “did you miss me, big boy?” Steve scoffed, but decided against arguing and averted his eyes to the tattered and bloodied remains of his Hellfire shirt. There really wasn't a scratch on him…that couldn’t be right. He saw —

“I asked if you missed me, Stevie.” Long fingers grasped at his chin with an unquestioning firmness and tilted it back up, back into the searching gaze Eddie had fixed on him. Steve swallowed the quickly forming knot in the back of his throat.

“I mean…yeah, we all did. Dustin — ”

“I didn’t ask about Dustin, pretty boy.” Eddie’s mouth twisted into a teasing, knowing smirk, his tongue poking out between his teeth. Where his teeth always that sharp? Steve had been called a pretty boy before, that one wasn’t new in the slightest, but it hadn’t felt like this. Not in the way that felt like molten lava was settling in the pit of his stomach. A helpless laugh escaped Steve as he reached up to swat Eddie’s hand away from his face — he shifted back, hoping to escape back across the room, hoping to dissipate whatever heavy atmosphere had descended upon them so quickly.

“Where’re you going, Stevie? Leaving me?”

‘We can’t leave him Steve, please! Please, just help me carry him back, please! We can’t leave him here!”

Guilt flashed hot across his face.

“No — No, I’m not leaving I just—“ Steve let himself be wrangled back closer, Eddie’s arms wrapped solidly around him with an unnerving strength, “I just wanted to close the door…”

“Trying to get me alone, hm?” Eddie ran a hand down Steve’s side, leaving what felt like a hot, burning imprint of it on him, settling an itching warmth under his skin. Steve stuttered, want churning in his stomach as he squirmed slightly under Eddie’s suddenly piercing stare. Firmly distracted, so much so, he didn’t notice the front door closing and firmly locking on its own.

“Maybe?”

“Good,” Eddie crooned, an easy smirk stretching across his face. “You gonna let me have you to myself, pretty boy? Help remind me I’m alive?”

Steve shuddered, the blood rushing to his face at the sudden shift. He got the feeling he had signed up for something he didn’t quite understand. Maybe that was a good thing, letting someone else take the reins for once. Letting Eddie take care of him.

“I’ll take great care of you, Stevie, I can promise you that.”

Shit, had he said that out loud? From the knowing tilt of his Eddie’s head, he must have? He didn’t think he did but —

“I wanna hear you say it, angel. You gonna let me take care of you? Let me have you?” Steve knew he should be wary; people offering you whatever you want on a silver platter like this is rarely ever a good thing. But God, the small part of his brain that was begging him to say ‘yes’ screamed at him, begged him to do something with this guilt and fear and desire that had been rattling around in him for days on end. Eddie…Eddie was good. Odd, but good. Kind. Someone that despite everything, trusted him. Dustin trusted him. He could trust him, of course he could.

“Yes” he breathed, relief washing over him at how easy the word came out, “but — are you sure you’re okay? I mean, you seem different —”

“Dying will do that to you — besides, maybe I’ve just finally figured out what I want.”

‘You want me?’ Steve thought to himself, face flushing as one of Eddie’s hands swept a long path up his back and twisted his ringed fingers through the soft hair at the back of his neck. Desire rolled through him, not even complaining when Eddie tugged harshly at his hair and tilting his head back to expose the long column of his throat.

“Who wouldn’t want you, hm? Look at you.” Steve couldn’t answer, or at least didn’t trust himself to just yet. Especially after being thrust so suddenly into the metaphorical deep end, with the Eddie Munson tugging on his hair and calling him names that should have made him more indignant than turned on. Steve felt dizzy with it already. He felt Eddie lean forward and press his nose against his throat, a low hum rattling through his bones.

“I wanna fucking eat you alive, pretty boy.”

Any logical person might have alarm bells blaring in their brain, given the circumstances. Instead. Steve’s hands settled on Eddie’s shoulders, clinging tight as he was rearranged to sit fully in Eddie’s lap, a gasp escaping him at the ease in which he was moved around like a doll. Steve lunged forward in Eddie’s grasp, capturing his lips with a groan of “yes” on his lips.

Eddie, one hand still knotted in Steve’s hair, pulled at it to angle his head to kiss him better, the other drifting down his side and squeezing at the crease of his thigh, fingers digging into his skin hard enough to raise bruises through the denim. Steve suddenly felt like he was starving, dehydrated, straight up dying; he whimpered against Eddie’s mouth, clutching to him for dear life.

Far too soon, Eddie leaned back, holding Steve firmly in place by his hair; his other hand abandoned its death grip on Steve’s thigh to trail up his neck, cradling the side of his face to steady him. Steve panted, and already itching for more, tried leaning forward to chase after his lips.

“Hold on baby, hold on,” Eddie cooed, stroking his thumb over his already red-bitten lips, “I don’t think the hall is the best place for this, do you? Or maybe you want me to fuck you into the floor — what a naughty little thing you are…”

I don’t care, just don’t stop.

A low chuckle filled the air around them, and before Steve could fully register what was happening, he was being hoisted into the air, fingers biting into his thighs as Eddie carried him towards the nearby living room without even breaking a sweat. He was deposited onto the couch, Eddie hovering above him and staring greedily at the sight before him.

“Such a pretty thing, aren't you Steve? Just waiting for someone to come along and give you everything you’ve ever wanted, hm?” Eddie lent down, meeting Steve halfway as he craned upwards to reach for him again.

Steve nodded shakily, hands reaching for Eddie’s face; Eddie let himself be pulled back down for another achingly hot kiss. Steve didn’t know that he could feel like this — so wild with desperation for anything he’d give him — he knew he should be embarrassed by how quickly his dick was pulsing to life in his stiff jeans. Instead, he twisted his fingers through Eddie’s wild hair and pulled him closer.

Eddie settled easily between Steve’s thighs, like he was meant to be there. He rearranged Steve with ease, pulling his legs to drape over his and yanking his hips up into his lap; spreading him out like a feast for the hungry look in Eddie’s eyes. Ringed hands trailed burning heat up Steve’s thighs, his hips, waist, chest — Steve’s head fell back against the cushions as one of them settled against his throat once more.

“Fuckin’ look at you, all spread out for me,” Eddie pressed forward to kiss him quickly, chuckling again when Steve chased after him, “what do you want, baby? Tell me.”

Steve could feel his cheeks burning hotter now, the red probably spreading down his chest by now. He didn’t trust his voice to actually get the words out, not when Eddie just grinned down at him, lopsided and teasing, his hand still wrapped loosely around Steve’s throat as he waited.

“Please…”

“Please, what?”

Steve suddenly felt like he was about to die, overheat and explode from the desperation shooting through his veins —

“Use your words.”

Steve took a steadying breath.

“Fuck…please…just, take care of me, Eddie.”

That seemed to satisfy Eddie, at least for the moment. He hummed out a teasing, condescending sound as he bent down to kiss Steve again: wet and hot and desperate. Steve groaned against his mouth, shuddering when their tongues met as Eddie pressed closer; he writhed beneath him, digging his fingers into the slippery leather of his jacket.

Steve gasped as ringed fingers suddenly slid under his sweatshirt, pushing it up and over his chest, bunched tight under his armpits. His head spun deliriously as Eddie shifted forward, pressing like a second skin against him and grinding his hips down into Steve’s.

‘Oh, god help him,’ he thought deliriously.

Steve felt the thick length of him through their jeans, and he couldn’t help the leaping journey his mind took as he narrowed in on the feeling. God, this was really happening, this isn’t just some painfully realistic dream that he’d be sweating and cursing at in the morning.

“The name’s Eddie, sweetheart, God isn’t here.”

Steve keened, feeling more than seeing Eddie’s answering grin as he pressed his mouth against his throat, sharp teeth teasing the sensitive skin. The bruising mark was no doubt too high for Steve to be able to hide it tomorrow. Not that he really wanted to anyway. Warm hands skated back down his chest and as they went, teasingly swept across Steve’s nipples; he couldn’t help but arch up into it, especially when those hands pulled impatiently at his belt, nearly ripping a loop as it was yanked open and flung across the room.

Steve clutched to him and caught Eddie’s lips again as the man fumbled and cursed at the buttons of his jeans, slipping his tongue against his like he was starving and greedy for every inch of him. There was no use in denying at this point, not when kissing Eddie was more of a priority at the moment than breathing. Eddie finally worked the buttons open, cooing in appreciation when Steve mindlessly raised his hips enough for him to pull his jeans and underwear down his thighs in one victorious swoop.

Steve tried halfheartedly to be more helpful, shuffling, trying to kick the fabric off the rest of the way, but instead moaned startlingly loud into the empty house at the delicious friction of Eddie’s jeans against his leaking dick. He was suddenly, embarrassingly aware of how naked he was compared to Eddie, barely a hair out of place as he leaned back to get a good look at him.

“Oh, look at you, pretty boy,” Eddie sighed, satisfied by whatever he found on Steve’s face, “I’m going to destroy you.”

Eddie snaked a hand around Steve’s cock and pumped it slowly; a gasp punched its way out of Steve’s chest at the feel of the cool metal rings against his hot skin, twisting into a moan as his thumb swept across the sensitive ridge.

“Fuck, you can’t just say shit like that,” Steve panted, gazing blearily up at Eddie. He only laughed down at him in response, twisting even harder on the downstroke. Eddie laughed loudly, and Steve was just…stunned. He’s so fucking beautiful it takes Steve’s breath away, still amazed that this was actually happening.

Suddenly, Eddie’s warmth was gone; Steve arched his hips to chase after the feeling, only to realize that Eddie was patting down his own pockets — he let out a victorious “ah-hah!”, producing a small bottle and packet of condoms from his jacket and laying them across Steve’s bare stomach. Steve shuddered in anticipation as Eddie maneuvered him to yank his pants off the rest of the way.

Eddie licked into Steve’s mouth, sucking on his lips and his tongue, and suddenly Steve was achingly desperate for Eddie to get a move on.

“Please, Eddie…”

“Shhhh, I’ve got you, angel.”

Comfort and safety washed over Steve’s brain, hardly registering as Eddie guided his body, spreading a thigh out to fall over the edge of the sofa. He drifted, settling into that place he had always longed for where he didn’t have to worry, didn’t have to be alone or strong or capable — he snapped back to his body as a slick finger teased at his hole.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before, what it might feel like. But feeling it and thinking it are two very different things. A cry tore out of Steve’s lungs, his hands jolting out to grasp at Eddie’s forearms. Eddie was unmovable, watching him with dark eyes as he pressed into him.

Steve moaned at the slow, burning stretch, licking at his suddenly dry lips.

Just as Steve was becoming used to the sensation, another finger was teasing at his entrance; Steve’s heart hammered in his chest as Eddie ran a hand distractingly along his hip, curling around his dick and twisting lazily.

“You take me so well, sweetheart — like you were made for me.” he whimpered, fingers digging into Eddie’s arms. He crooked his fingers, rubbing against a soft spot that had Steve gasping for air, hips jumping as he chased after the feeling. Smiling victoriously down at him, Eddie continued his assault on the spot, punching small, desperate moans out of him.

Eddie’s eyes were dark; dark and stormy and filled with heated lust and a teasing humor — Steve felt pinned in place by the gaze, unable to look away. Not that he really wanted to. A third finger slid alongside the others, immediately honing in and stretching him even further.

A low pleased sound rumbled from Steve’s throat, and Eddie echoed it, staring down at the stretch of Steve’s rim around his fingers. The pace was steady, thorough, the heat building unbearably in Steve’s blood. Steve was vaguely aware of the soft moans and whines he was making over the sound of the wet slide of Eddie’s fingers, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care, not when it felt this good.

He was slipping rapidly back into that place of out of body warmth, and Eddie must have noticed it. His hand squeezed tighter around Steve’s cock, fingers turning slightly brutal and thrusting a bit harder than before.

“Feels good, huh baby? Like me filling you up, stretching you out?”

“Fuck, Yes,” Steve sobbed, half hysterical as he battled between trying to escape the onslaught or rocking back into it.

“That’s it pretty boy, such a good boy.” Pride ripped through Steve’s chest and just as he felt as if he might shake apart, split in two — Eddie’s hands and fingers were slipping away, leaving a dull, heartbeat ache behind. He forced his eyes open, not even realizing how tightly he had squeezed them shut, staring up blearily at Eddie.

If he’d had working brain cells at the moment, he’d have been a bit a little more for his wellbeing as he watched Eddie unclasp the handcuff buckle of his belt, eyes drifting to the sizable bulge straining against his jeans. Another belt launched across the room, and then Eddie pushed his jeans and boxers down just enough for his dick to spring free, bouncing and curving up against his stomach.

Steve’s brain had formed a halfhearted attempt at self preservation, but promptly abandoned it when one of those ringed, slick hands wrapped around it and pumped lazily. His mouth went dry.

Eddie grinned down at him, watching the journey flash across his face.

“You want it, Stevie?”

“Yes,” he breathed automatically, hands subconsciously reaching out to grasp at Eddie’s hips and haul him closer. Eddie let him, falling forward onto Steve; they groaned into each other’s mouth as their hips met; the relief and friction was euphoric. Steve knew he sounded pathetic as Eddie growled in his ear and thrust forwards, their cocks against each other.

“Don’t distract me, baby,” Eddie rumbled — halfhearted — as he leaned back, hauling Steve’s hips back into the cradle of his lap. Steve absentmindedly stored the information away that he enjoyed being manhandled, watching as Eddie reached for one of the condoms still abandoned on Steve’s stomach, ripping it open hastily with his teeth.

The predatory grin Eddie shoots him as he rolls the condom onto his length sent a shiver down his spine.

“You’re mine, Steve, say it. No one else gets to touch you ever again, do they sweetheart?” The fat head of his cock laid over Steve’s loose hole, grinding down against his sensitive, hot skin. He nodded, breathing out a quiet ,’yes’, desperately, ready to agree to anything, he just needed him —

A long whine pulled itself from Steve’s lungs as Eddie pressed into him. The air in his throat gone, gasping, closing up on itself as a heady feeling spread through his bones. He didn’t even register Eddie whispering to him, eyes watching wide and rapt as he gazed down to see for himself.

It was unbearably hot, Steve decided, feeling it and seeing it at the same time. “Shiiittt,” he whined, shuddering as Eddie’s cock spread him open; the endless, thick push of it made him feel like he would shatter apart from how good it felt.

He was suddenly being rearranged again, metal and skin biting into the backs of his thighs as they were pushed up into his sides. The shift in position punched a moan out of Steve, mouth going slack as the new tilt of his hips helped Eddie’s hips settle against his ass; Eddie groaned out his approval above him, squeezing Steve’s lush thighs even tighter.

“Fuck yeah,” Eddie moaned, leaning down quickly to lick into Steve’s slack lips, moaning into each other's mouths,“That’s it, good boy, take it all.”

The thrusts started off slow, slow but deep, driving home and carving a place away for Eddie’s cock. Steve shivered beneath him, breath hitching against Eddie’s demanding mouth with every press of his hips. He felt like he was melting in the heat; his arms latched around Eddie’s shoulders, digging his fingers into his skin as he held on for dear life.

The steady grinding pace that Eddie had set abruptly shifted, and Steve realized quickly that he had really meant it when he said he was going to destroy him. There was no hope of being quiet anymore, each thrust forcing the air out of him, in short, broken moans and slurred pleas. The force of Eddie’s hips pushed Steve into the cushions, sweat sticking the fabric to the skin of his back.

“Yeahhh, that’s it baby,” Eddie’s chest rumbled against him, and Steve nearly keened at the praise, the reverent, filthy tone, “that’s what you wanted, isn’t it, angel? Wanted me to keep you, fill you up, ruin your little ass for anyone else?”

Heat splashed across Steve’s cheeks, something very rapidly curling tight in the pit of his stomach.

“Yeah, I knew it baby, look at that face, so good for me.” Eddie’s eyes were hard, dangerously focused and tinged with a reddish glow when he finally pulled back to look at Steve — fingers clasping tight around Steve’s waist. Eddie fucked into him harder, faster, yanking him down into his thrusts as Steve moaned helplessly.

The couch was beginning to rattle threateningly underneath them, but Steve couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Nn—nngghh, Oh god,” Steve sobbed, “I’m dying,” he gasped out, half delirious, “I’m gonna die, I can’t — ” Eddie laughed openly above him as Steve scrabbled desperately at the arms holding him in place — something, anything to hold onto. One hand slid down, wrapping around his leaking cock again and Steve arched violently into the warmth, back stretching off the couch into a concerning bow.

“You can take it, good boy, just a little more, right baby? You can do that for — fuck — for me, yeah?” When Steve moaned brokenly, looking up at him with wild eyes and gasping out a poor excuse of a ‘yes,’, Eddie’s lips pulled back, teeth set in a harsh snarl as he doubled down on the pace.

”That’s it," Eddie rasped into the Steve’s ear, drawing his tongue up against the shell of it and along his throat, “Fuck-yeah, you take it.”

Steve wailed, nails digging into whatever skin he could reach as Eddie’s powerful thighs slapped into his, gasping and moaning as Eddie bit along his collarbone. Somewhere in the pack of his mind, Steve was aware that drool was sliding out of the side of his mouth, and it seemed that now Eddie was as well — he leant back, ringed fingers trailing across Steve’s cheek and gathering it, shoving two slick fingers into his gasping mouth.

He choked out Eddie’s name around the fingers, stomach clenching tight hearing his breathless answer in return.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie shuddered as his lips closed around the fingers, rings clanking against his teeth as his tongue swirled around them, “fuckin’ worth dying for this.”

Steve felt the heat and coil of pressure building like a firework with every breath — he whined as Eddie pulled his fingers back, smearing spit across his cheek as they slipped down to close again around his cock, tight and unforgiving. Eddie stroked him in time with his thrusts, a fast, desperate pace, leaving Steve squirming and shuddering and overwhelmed, trying to fuck his hips back onto him.

“Eddddie, fuck, I’m — I’m gonna,” he gasped, arms trembling as he reached out for him. Eddie indulged him, keeping the punishing pace as he leant down to him, lips pressing almost sweetly against his. He could feel Eddie’s heart thundering against his chest as Steve clung to him, fingers curling in his hair.

“C’mon baby,” Eddie growled against his lips, “come for me, you can do it,” he demanded, and suddenly Steve was seeing stars within moments.

“Yes, yes, yes ye—,” Eddie’s hips tilted just right, suddenly hammering relentlessly at that magic spot inside him, and Steve’s mouth hung open in a silent howl. Steve brain narrowed in, and could only focus on Eddie’s grunts and reverberating growls as light burst behind his eyelids. The world shrank down to the burning warm touch-points of Eddie’s hands, settling onto his hips as his thrusts began to stutter.

“Fuck yes, Steve —,” Eddie followed soon after him, and came with a snarl and barred teeth and rasping out expletives and filthy half-words. He bore down on Steve in the last moments of it, chasing his pleasure blindly and latching his piercing teeth into his neck.

Oh god, yes.

Everything went still and silent, besides the shuddering gasps and grunts shared between the two of them. Steve whined softly, his heartbeat ramming in his chest as he struggled for air — starting to come back down from the clouds as Eddie pressed wet kisses softly along his abused throat and up his cheekbones. He pressed one last kiss to his shoulder before leaning back and shifting and pulling out slowly, knotting off the condom. Steve groaned at the slide, shuddering as Eddie pet his side reverently.

The pair collapsed into the couch — Eddie curled protectively around him as Steve tucked his face into Eddie’s shoulder, still trying to calm his shuddering breathing. He looked back down as a finger trailed along his stomach, rubbing in words or symbols; Steve groaned, watching as Eddie’s fingers dragged paths of his own come along his skin.

“Gross, man,” Steve complained, halfheartedly slapping Eddie’s hand away. Eddie laughed brightly, sending another shudder through Steve as Eddie raised his fingers to his mouth, sucking the remnants off of his own fingers.

“Christ, you’re trying to kill me,” Steve draped an arm over his eyes to block out the sight, only catching another laugh from Eddie. Eddie pulled his arm back, leaning down over Steve and kissing him gently, carefully, and Steve leant his cheek into the hand cupping his face. A slight taste of copper filled Steve’s senses, though he didn’t really think too much of it. They locked eyes, taking each other in as their breathing finally settled.

Eddie’s curls draped down like a curtain, tickling his face, and he reached up absentmindedly to gently tug on them.

“That good, baby?”

Steve only hummed intelligently in return, skating his fingers along Eddie’s jaw, his cheeks, eyebrows; Eddie watched him quietly, eyes locked on his face with a knowing air to them. Suddenly, the embarrassment of how desperate he’d been caught up with him— his face turned an alarming red as he looked away shyly for anything else to focus on.

Please, let another gate open up and swallow me whole.

He shifted in place, cheeks burning deeper when the ache in his ass throbbed to life. Eddie chuckled darkly, knotting his hand back in Steve’s hair to bring his attention back to his searching gaze.

“You’re never getting rid of me now Stevie, you know that?” Steve blushed, averting his eyes, “Stuck with me forever, baby.”

Steve didn’t catch the red glint in Eddie’s eyes, nor the way that those words felt more like an indisputable truth than normal pillow-talk. He really didn’t have the mind to question it anyways.

#not sure if it's obvious enough he's a demon but oh well #i know why you're here #eddie munson #eddie x steve #steddie #stanger things #steve harrington #fanfic #eddie munson smut #vampire!eddie #demon!eddie #stranger things fanfiction #dom!eddie

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possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

Note

this prompt is a jesus quote for my favorite bisexual messiah figure ava silva: “father, let this cup pass from me”

you have lived for so long; you have lived for so much longer than you ever thought you would.

you watch her from the sink in the kitchen, two glasses of pinot noir poured, her body pressed against the balcony railing and your dog sleeping at her feet. she's older now, but she still stands straight-backed, regal, serious. time has been such a gift; your back aches most days and her right hand hurts in the rain, never quite healed from a break during a battle so long ago. her hair is going grey, still long and wavy down her back. she's barefoot, as she often is now, a few tattoos — promises and prayers and reverent memories — peeking out of her loose cashmere sweater, the sleeves pulled up around her elbows even as the night grows cold.

your heart roots, all over again, in your chest as she twists her wedding band around her finger and a little smile lights up her face.

the sunset lights up her body, orange and breathtaking, her face thrown into relief when she lifts her hand to shade her eyes. you know everything about her: the church of her hips; the way her back still arches when you suck her clit into your mouth and kneel at her feet; the way she laughs, quiet and magic, when she reads something funny; the fruit she slices every morning and the flowers she brings you in the crook of her arm.

there has been, you are sure, in your soul, no love like yours. she had built you an altar and you had worshipped at it every day.

you pick up the glasses, elegant crystal she had picked years ago that she replaces with a harmless sigh every time you break one. you pad out to her, and when you get to her side she accepts the glass and then kisses you on the temple.

'thank you, darling.'

you've lived away from england for a long time, but her accent hasn't faded a bit. 'you okay?'

she hums; you are all hurting and haunted and human, after all this time. 'father, let this cup pass from me.'

'hmm,' you say, 'so... that's a no?'

she laughs, just once, humorless. 'just remembering. i had — a hard day.'

it's a lot for her to admit, even still: she had watched you die. 'thank you for telling me,' you say. 'wanna talk about it?'

she swallows, then shakes her head, turns toward you and touches your face with a kind of reverence that still shakes you to your core. 'no,' she says. 'i'm all right.'

you lift your glass, the red shining in the sun sinking below the horizon. 'well, this wine is, like, way too expensive to waste on... guilt, or ache, or whatever you're feeling.'

you wait for a moment but then you're rewarded, like you'd known you would be, with a real laugh. 'and who paid for that?'

'we have a joint bank account.'

her smile lights up her eyes, the sun reflected in them: sweeping and wide and sacred. they wrinkle around the edges, mostly from laughing over the years.

she relents, as you'd known she would; she lifts her glass and clinks it with yours, closes her eyes and swirls the wine around, smells it and then takes a sip. she hums a little, turns back to you.

'better than communion?'

she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, settles her fingers against your collarbone. 'you are the most beautiful thing i've ever seen.'

'i love you.'

she kisses your cheek. 'and, yes, sonoma pinot is better than communion wine, for as much as i remember.'

you laugh, lace your fingers with hers, and lead her inside. the dog follows you when you call and you settle on the couch, curl into bea’s still-strong side. you drink your wine and you get her to laugh, a lot, eventually; you kiss that long healed scar on her shoulder and she rests her hand on your spine.

#wn #warrior nun fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #listen the thought of them growing old is so personal to me......#i am unwell

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yooniesim · 4 months

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I REALLY don't want to come off as mean because I understand what it's like to struggle financially and the stress that puts you under, but I really really think it'd be for the best if you stopped using curseforge, Ceci.

Please do early access if you must! We get that it's not a matter of greed but rather a matter of survival, but please please use the means less damaging to others while keeping yourself healthy. Sims politics is nothing compared to a genocide. I hope you think about it, and I hope you can meditate on this choice. My thoughts are with you and your family 💜

Thank you for this kind comment, nonny! 💜

Honestly, I have considered it. Having a paywall is the last thing I want to do, but after living under this much financial strain for around a year now... well, it's weighing on me. As is using curseforge in the first place. I'll be honest- this month, I'll get $50 from cf. For the whole month. Sometimes it's more if I have points leftover from the previous month (so like $100 in one month), but usually that's the average. Having to use it for such (relatively) little money and dealing with the guilt of using it and the hate that results is pretty damn tough, I'll tell you that much. Like, curseforge fucking sucks and even beyond the boycott I resent the hell out of it at this point. I literally hate it and want to delete it so bad but it's the reason I was even able to even buy my meds this month. I've been working on making my patreon have better benefits without having an actual paywall, and some amazing people have kindly donated, but the amount per month varies so much it's tough to rely on. I'm really getting to be at a loss of what to do at this point. I've been exploring every other possible avenue of extra money I can that fits with my current job schedule, I do other freelance work online on top of that and cc making, and sell any stuff I have left from my collecting days. But I'm still in the red every month and it fucking sucks man. And then to come on here and have people say you love/support genocide, while researching and finding out even more about how Overwolf fucking sucks and trying to figure out how to help the boycott, then people just straight up lie about what you said so others will gossip about you publicly like middle schoolers- it's seriously awful all around. Sorry to vent at you nonny, but it's honestly depressing.

I'm on the verge of just saying fuck it, but the truth is, I'm scared to. The bottom line is that I can't function without my meds, and no one here on tumblr is gonna be with me irl to help me or pick my ass up, you know what I mean? When I log off here, simblr doesn't matter, I'm the one that deals with my own life and any negatives of that. And no matter what I do online or irl activism wise, I have this shit haunting me in the back of my mind. It feels like selling your damn soul for 50 fucking dollars, man. And how pathetic is that, you know? I guess it probably sounds like a simple choice to everyone else, but it isn't. I'm still deciding what to do and hoping, praying, that a few opportunities I'm trying to get irl yield some results. Cos like, even with CF, I'm kinda screwed either way at this point lol. I don't know. What does it even matter, right? I'll consider the early access option, but it's more probable I just quit CF and not do any paywall/CC making in general before that happens. I think if I did early access all my want to be a cc creator would suck out of my body even more than it is now. And boy has it fucking waned ever since I started posting on CF. I don't know. It's literally midnight and I think I need to sleep on it- I was supposed to already be asleep, but I saw your ask and had to answer it, oops. Sorry to ramble, nonny. Thanks again for the ask and being understanding 💜

#asks #ceci speaks #anonymous #negative #on my part not yours #highkey depressing sorry lol #hopefully ill have a better plan tomorrow/the next few days

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basquerville · 7 months

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The Circle of Needle & Thread as Radiohead songs

Inspiration has struck! I am obsessed with Candela Chapter 2 and also really like Radiohead so I kinda just had to. Dunno if this is for anyone but it fits so well!

1. The whole circle:

Pyramid Song

I jumped in the river and what did I see? Black-eyed angels swam with me

This one fits on vibes alone but also bc of the river in the last ep and the black-eyed angels could be the creatures if you squint.

The Gloaming

Murderers, you're murderers We are not the same as you When the walls bend with your breathing They will suck you down to the other side To the shadows blue and red.

We are not the same as you? I mean c'mon! The walls bending at the Fourth Pharos, They will suck you down to the other side, blue and red light! It just fits!

Spectre

I'm lost, I'm a ghost Dispossessed, taken host My hunger burns a bullet hole A spectre of my mortal soul

Because of the 'host-thing' and the romance themes, this feels like it leans more towards Marion. But it kinda is too dark for his hopeful personality. We also got lines like "anger is a poison" which feels very fitting for Sean. Sidenote: I still get so angry thinking about how they rejected this song for the Bond-movie wtf?

4 Minute Warning

This is just a nightmare Soon I'm gonna wake up Someone's gonna bring me 'round Running from the bombers

It's PTSD innit?

2. Jean "Jinnah" Basar:

Everything In Its Right Place

Everything in its right place Yesterday, I woke up sucking a lemon

This one is a given! Not much to say except that it speaks to Jean's exact and analytic nature.

House of Cards

I don't want to be your friend I just want to be your lover No matter how it ends No matter how it starts

Jean's balancing of Candela and EONS being like a house of cards. Her initial denial of her own guilt and relationship to magick. Her feelings towards Marion.

3. Marion Collodi:

Daydreaming

Dreamers, they never learn Beyond the point of no return

Also a given! This was honestly what inspired me to make this post in the first place. Both the vibe and the lyrics fit very well!

Desert Island Disk

Born of a light, born of a light The wind rushing 'round my open heart An open ravine with my spirit wide Totally alive and my spirit light

Marion and his soul, especially the speech in ep 3 where he says he feels whole without one.

4. Sean Finnerty:

2+2=5

It's the devil's way now There is no way out You can scream and you can shout It is too late now Because you have not been paying attention

Gaahh I am unable to be normal about Sean Finnerty! Can I appropriate a song written about George W. Bush to be about Dr. Oliver Nero? You betcha! To me this song speaks to the lies told by authority figures and how they have destroyed Seans life.

Ful Stop

You really messed up everything If you could take it all back again Strike up the tinderbox Why should I be good if your're not?

Why should I be good if you're not! Very much giving Sean in ep 3!

5. Beatrix "Auntie Bea" Monroe

No Surprises

Such a pretty house and such a pretty garden

Bring down the government, they don't speak for us! The rest is self-explanatory.

Give Up the Ghost

Gather up the lost and their souls into your arms Gather up the pitiful into your arms

Auntie Bea and all those she takes under her wing.

6. Nathaniel Trapp

Go to Sleep

Someone's son or someone's daughter Over my dead body This is how I end up sucked in Over my dead body

A song about the dehumanizing effects of war. Trapp's guilt over Marion and the Finnerty boys getting sucked into the military.

Glass Eyes

Hey, it's me, I just got off the train A frightening place, the faces are concrete grey In the oh-so-smug glassy eyed light of day

Get it? Because of his eye? And also anxiety... and trains!

Bonus: The Creatures:

We Suck Young Blood

Are you fracturing? Are you torn at the seams? Would you do anything?

The Candela vibes are strong with this one!

Tinker Tailor Soldier Sailor Rich Man Poor Man Beggar Man Thief

The ones you light your fires to keep away Is crawling out upon its belly And all you have to do is say yes

Both these songs remind me of the son trying to convince Sean to let him in.

Update! How could I forget:

Suspirium (By Thom Yorke)

When I arrive will you come and find me? Or in a crowd be one of them? Mother wants us back beside her No tomorrows, at peace

An anthem for the son!

#candela obscura #candela obscura: chapter 2 #circle of needle and thread #radiohead #jean basar #marion collodi #sean finnerty #auntie bea #beatrix monroe #nathaniel trapp #critical role #been a long time since i actually posted fandom stuff

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sunrisenovaa · 5 months

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blessed joan, duty bound to God, give me courage

or in which i finally did the hazel joan of arc catholic guilt fic

tagging: @hazellvsq & @daisymooonart bc you inspired this

St Joan of Arc, give me strength: In this, my time of need, I beg thee to come to my aid. I humbly ask thee to help me bear my trials with honour, As I remember you in your earthly agonies.

The words, though familiar, feel foreign on her tongue as Hazel mumbles them. Marie coughs beside her as the oil fills the cavern and she looks out into the silky black.

She is 13. She is 13 years old and she is dying and for some reason she can’t quite understand, she is praying to a saint.

Joan of Arc is who she chose for her confirmation a year ago right before they left New Orleans. She hadn’t wanted to be confirmed, but Marie had insisted.

“I won’t have a sinful child in my house,” her mother had spat. Hazel had wanted to argue, to say that a sinful child had always lived in that house, that sealing her soul to a god neither of them believed in wouldn’t change that.

Instead, she bit her tongue, let the ladies of the parlour fuss over her hair and the silky white dress she had been forced into. She had looked like a bride, and Sammy had made jokes the entire day about how she must be getting married since she was so damn uncomfortable.

At the time, Hazel had rolled her eyes and sucked it up. Not unlike how she was sucking up crude oil now.

Her vision begins to fade and she remembers hearing the story of Joan of Arc for the first time. A girl from France who heard the voice of God. A girl, not much older than Hazel who had something to prove, and did. A girl who died for her beliefs.

“Joan,” she says, begging and pleading with a figure she knows isn’t there. “Please save us. Pardon us from our sin like God did to you. I will stand watch. I will let your mercy shine through me.”

She’s rambling, not making sense as the oil seeps further towards her, covering her body and burning at her skin. She sees a girl in the depths. A girl with short brown hair and dark eyes. She is lily white. The kind of girl Hazel’s mama told her to stay far away from.

“My mercy is not needed.” The girl, Joan, says. She presses a ghostly hand against Hazel’s forehead. “Sleep my child. It’ll be over soon.”

The cavern rumbles and Hazel’s eyes roll back in her head. The last thing she sees is the girl’s face disappearing into the ink, and her last thought is a prayer she never should have mumbled in the first place.

After all, God doesn’t help sinners. He’s never helped her before.

#hazel levesque #heroes of olympus #hoo #*mine #*mine: fic #heroes of olympus fic #tw death #tw religious themes #tw religious imagery #i am having joan of arc hazel thoughts now

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jvngkook97 · 2 years

Text

When Words Fail

pairing; boyfriend!jungkook x writer!reader

genre; angst, fluff, slice of life, established relationship, domestic au

warnings; mentions of depression, minor injury, mental breakdown, writer’s block, reader is lost, koo is always there to find reader and provide comfort when needed

rating; 18+

w/c; 1,335

a/n; unedited. sorry for any errors. been feeling lost and uninspired to do or write anything, so I made this drabble as a way of coping and healing. my only hope is that if anyone else out there feels the same way and they read this, it can provide some solace for you as well. it’s nice to know you’re not alone in this big world.

networks; @ficscafe, @thebtswritersclub, @kflixnet

It’s been ten days since you last picked up a pencil or even touched your phone in fear of getting distracted and the guilt eating away at you until you’re nothing but skin and bones.

You don’t even want to look at the trash bin that’s spilling over with a pile of crumpled up notebook paper, previous writings and ideas you deemed unworthy of seeing the light of day both inside and littered around it.

Your head was in your arms as you lay on top of your desk, the only light on coming from the desk lamp that sat to your right, the glow illuminating your disheartened figure in a way that had your boyfriend looking at you with worry lines taking up his face.

He’s seen you like this before, where you’ve felt at your lowest and believe you’ve hit rock bottom. He always felt helpless.

But still, he tried.

Knocking on the threshold of the door with his knuckles, he watched as your hunched over form stirred to life, your newly awakened body stretching itself in a cat like way as you let out a quiet yawn.

“Hey honey, I made you some tea.”

True to his words, the minute you sat up did the notes of lavender waft into your nostrils, the potent smell relaxing your sleepy state even more.

You turned to look at him, pushing your chair back from the desk a bit to angle your body in his direction. Whenever he came in, you always gave your full attention, knowing fully well how much it sucks to be ignored and unheard in previous relationships.

Your eyes spoke volumes of how terrible you felt as well as your bodily appearance. You had bags underneath your eyes, your water lines rimmed with a redness and puffy, a detail that can only be explained from the amounts of silent tears you’ve shed throughout the ten days. Your hair was basically a rat’s nest from the shower you felt too lazy to take or even attempt to tame with a brush. Your clothes had stains scattered in various spots on your shirt from the multiple plates of food he served you each day and night in order to keep you well fed.

Unconsciously, without him knowing, his natural human response kicked in before his loving boyfriend one — nose scrunching and upper lip quirking up with a grimace.

“That bad, huh?”

You chuckled humorlessly, hands now folded in your lap as you did your best not to take his visual response to your downtrodden form to heart. You’re more than positive you looked terrible, if the heavy feeling in your chest was any reminder of that.

Blinking the expression away, he opened his mouth to immediately dispel any negative thoughts he knows your busy mind unfortunately likes to throw at you in ways of self criticism. It didn’t help knowing your ex was always one to instill those deprecating thoughts even further into your soul with their scathing words.

“Baby–,”

“I know, koo. I know. I’m only joking.”

His worried look didn’t falter as he stepped into the room, being wary of not spilling a drop of the warm tea as he carefully set it down in front of your worn down body on the desk. He kneeled down on one knee and took your hands in his. His gaze was so intense and serious, yet full of nothing but love and understanding. Even a hint of guilt. It made you happy, yet sad at the same time knowing you’ve caused it, but also that you’re worthy of it.

“No—I need you to know I love you. You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. You’re worthy. You’re more than enough. You’re going to get over this hump, and come back even stronger than ever, just like you always do.”

Your lower lip wobbled and you bit it in hopes of not breaking down. Again.

“Why don’t we go for a walk?” He offered casually, with a lopsided smile.

“It’s late though.”

And you were right. Jungkook glanced over your shoulder to look directly out the half opened window, sheer curtains blowing in the nighttime breeze as he could see a few stars twinkle from his position on the floor.

But he didn’t care.

Shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly he gave a blunt reply.

“So? All the better. Won’t be so many people out right now.”

“I don’t know–,”

“Just a quick 10 minute one, please?” You have a deadpan look at his puppy dog pout, his big doe eyes looking up at you unblinking.

Letting your head fall with a small sigh, he just grinned knowing he won.

Gaining a second wind, he popped up off the floor in a flourish and pulled your body into a standing position. He gave you a minute to right yourself and gestured for you to take a few drinks of the tea while it was still warm. You did. The warming sensation slithered down your throat in a soothing way, and you sighed in relief.

Once you were satisfied, did he grab the now empty mug in one hand, and your hand with his unoccupied one. Guiding you through the threshold and into the small, narrow hallway, did he make a quick stop in the kitchen on the way to the front door to set down the mug in the sink with a promise that he’ll clean it when you guys get back falling from his lips.

When he began to lead you out of the kitchen, he made a misstep that tugged your already tired and weary form to hit the corner of the island that sat not too far off from the sink, the corner feeling like a dagger as it dug into your side and you let out a low hiss, immediately letting go of his hand to press into it with hope of massaging the pain away more quickly.

He spun around with wide eyes, a curse word spilling past his lips as his own hands went to hover over the sore spot that you were still nursing.

You know he didn’t mean too. You know he would never hurt you intentionally. And you know for a fact that you were not made at him in the least bit. But — that still didn’t stop you from finally breaking down on him only a few steps away from the door.

The sudden impact of your body knocking into his when he wasn’t expecting it made his back land on the wall behind him, his hands flying up as a precaution incase he needed to catch your falling form. Still in slight shock, his hands changed course once his racing mind came to the conclusion that you were not, in fact, going to fall, and instead opted to lay his hands on your shoulders that have yet to stop bouncing from the sobs that wracked your body. Your face was buried in his chest with your hands covering your mouth and nose as you desperately tried to control the loudness of your wails of despair that just broke his heart in two.

The top of your head lay against the crook of his neck, as he laid his own sideways on top of yours, a few long and loving kisses along with silent tears of his own slid down his cheek as he did the only thing he could do in this moment in time to help you.

And so he held you, just held you, not knowing that his touch was all you needed to feel better. His presence, his love, his actions — all gentle reminders of his pure, unconditional love language that matched yours.

The next day he would find your nose buried in your notebook, hand scribbling words down as if possessed, your tongue poking out of your lips in concentration as you did so and it would be then that he knew, his chest swelling with pride — he did good.

*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*

a/n; yeah, I don’t know. like + reblog if you enjoyed. feedback is always appreciated and helps keep this writer motivated. send me an ask if you’re interested in being in a taglist for anything pertaining to this series or all of my future works in general (or if you wish to be removed). be sure to specify when you apply.

taglist; @mwitsmejk

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