#darkly sweet reveries

[dailyanneofgreengables]

Chapter 2: Matthew Cuthbert is Surprised (part 3)

“I guess you’re feeling pretty tired and hungry,” Matthew ventured to say at last, accounting for her long visitation of dumbness with the only reason he could think of. “But we haven’t very far to go now—only another mile.”

She came out of her reverie with a deep sigh and looked at him with the dreamy gaze of a soul that had been wondering afar, star-led.

“Oh, Mr. Cuthbert,” she whispered, “that place we came through—that white place—what was it?”

“Well now, you must mean the Avenue,” said Matthew after a few moments’ profound reflection. “It is a kind of pretty place.”

“Pretty? Oh, pretty doesn’t seem the right word to use. Nor beautiful, either. They don’t go far enough. Oh, it was wonderful—wonderful. It’s the first thing I ever saw that couldn’t be improved upon by imagination. It just satisfies me here”—she put one hand on her breast—“it made a queer funny ache and yet it was a pleasant ache. Did you ever have an ache like that, Mr. Cuthbert?”

“Well now, I just can’t recollect that I ever had.”

“I have it lots of time—whenever I see anything royally beautiful. But they shouldn’t call that lovely place the Avenue. There is no meaning in a name like that. They should call it—let me see—the White Way of Delight. Isn’t that a nice imaginative name? When I don’t like the name of a place or a person I always imagine a new one and always think of them so. There was a girl at the asylum whose name was Hepzibah Jenkins, but I always imagined her as Rosalia DeVere. Other people may call that place the Avenue, but I shall always call it the White Way of Delight. Have we really only another mile to go before we get home? I’m glad and I’m sorry. I’m sorry because this drive has been so pleasant and I’m always sorry when pleasant things end. Something still pleasanter may come after, but you can never be sure. And it’s so often the case that it isn’t pleasanter. That has been my experience anyhow. But I’m glad to think of getting home. You see, I’ve never had a real home since I can remember. It gives me that pleasant ache again just to think of coming to a really truly home. Oh, isn’t that pretty!”

They had driven over the crest of a hill. Below them was a pond, looking almost like a river so long and winding was it. A bridge spanned it midway and from there to its lower end, where an amber-hued belt of sand-hills shut it in from the dark blue gulf beyond, the water was a glory of many shifting hues—the most spiritual shadings of crocus and rose and ethereal green, with other elusive tintings for which no name has ever been found. Above the bridge the pond ran up into fringing groves of fir and maple and lay all darkly translucent in their wavering shadows. Here and there a wild plum leaned out from the bank like a white-clad girl tip-toeing to her own reflection. From the marsh at the head of the pond came the clear, mournfully-sweet chorus of the frogs. There was a little gray house peering around a white apple orchard on a slope beyond and, although it was not yet quite dark, a light was shining from one of its windows.

“That’s Barry’s pond,” said Matthew.

“Oh, I don’t like that name, either. I shall call it—let me see—the Lake of Shining Waters. Yes, that is the right name for it. I know because of the thrill. When I hit on a name that suits exactly it gives me a thrill. Do things ever give you a thrill?”

Matthew ruminated.

“Well now, yes. It always kind of gives me a thrill to see them ugly white grubs that spade up in the cucumber beds. I hate the look of them.”

“Oh, I don’t think that can be exactly the same kind of a thrill. Do you think it can? There doesn’t seem to be much connection between grubs and lakes of shining waters, does there? But why do other people call it Barry’s pond?”

“I reckon because Mr. Barry lives up there in that house. Orchard Slope’s the name of his place. If it wasn’t for that big bush behind it you could see Green Gables from here. But we have to go over the bridge and round by the road, so it’s near half a mile further.”

“Has Mr. Barry any little girls? Well, not so very little either—about my size.”

“He’s got one about eleven. Her name is Diana.”

“Oh!” with a long indrawing of breath. “What a perfectly lovely name!”

“Well now, I dunno. There’s something dreadful heathenish about it, seems to me. I’d ruther Jane or Mary or some sensible name like that. But when Diana was born there was a schoolmaster boarding there and they gave him the naming of her and he called her Diana.”

“I wish there had been a schoolmaster like that around when I was born, then. Oh, here we are at the bridge. I’m going to shut my eyes tight. I’m always afraid going over bridges. I can’t help imagining that perhaps just as we get to the middle, they’ll crumple up like a jack-knife and nip us. So I shut my eyes. But I always have to open them for all when I think we’re getting near the middle. Because, you see, if the bridge did crumple up I’d want to see it crumple. What a jolly rumble it makes! I always like the rumble part of it. Isn’t it splendid there are so many things to like in this world? There we’re over. Now I’ll look back. Good night, dear Lake of Shining Waters. I always say good night to the things I love, just as I would to people. I think they like it. That water looks as if it was smiling at me.”

When they had driven up the further hill and around a corner Matthew said:

“We’re pretty near home now. That’s Green Gables over—”

“Oh, don’t tell me,” she interrupted breathlessly, catching at his partially raised arm and shutting her eyes that she might not see his gesture. “Let me guess. I’m sure I’ll guess right.”

She opened her eyes and looked about her. They were on the crest of a hill. The sun had set some time since, but the landscape was still clear in the mellow afterlight. To the west a dark church spire rose up against a marigold sky. Below was a little valley and beyond a long, gently-rising slope with snug farmsteads scattered along it. From one to another the child’s eyes darted, eager and wistful. At last they lingered on one away to the left, far back from the road, dimly white with blossoming trees in the twilight of the surrounding woods. Over it, in the stainless southwest sky, a great crystal-white star was shining like a lamp of guidance and promise.

“That’s it, isn’t it?” she said, pointing.

Matthew slapped the reins on the sorrel’s back delightedly.

“Well now, you’ve guessed it! But I reckon Mrs. Spencer described it so’s you could tell.”

“No, she didn’t—really she didn’t. All she said might just as well have been about most of those other places. I hadn’t any real idea what it looked like. But just as soon as I saw it I felt it was home. Oh, it seems as if I must be in a dream. Do you know, my arm must be black and blue from the elbow up, for I’ve pinched myself so many times today. Every little while a horrible sickening feeling would come over me and I’d be so afraid it was all a dream. Then I’d pinch myself to see if it was real—until suddenly I remembered that even supposing it was only a dream I’d better go on dreaming as long as I could; so I stopped pinching. But it is real and we’re nearly home.”

With a sigh of rapture she relapsed into silence. Matthew stirred uneasily. He felt glad that it would be Marilla and not he who would have to tell this waif of the world that the home she longed for was not to be hers after all. They drove over Lynde’s Hollow, where it was already quite dark, but not so dark that Mrs. Rachel could not see them from her window vantage, and up the hill and into the long lane of Green Gables. By the time they arrived at the house Matthew was shrinking from the approaching revelation with an energy he did not understand. It was not of Marilla or himself he was thinking or of the trouble this mistake was probably going to make for them, but of the child’s disappointment. When he thought of that rapt light being quenched in her eyes he had an uncomfortable feeling that he was going to assist at murdering something—much the same feeling that came over him when he had to kill a lamb or calf or any other innocent little creature.

The yard was quite dark as they turned into it and the poplar leaves were rustling silkily all round it.

“Listen to the trees talking in their sleep,” she whispered, as he lifted her to the ground. “What nice dreams they must have!”

Then, holding tightly to the carpet-bag which contained “all her worldly goods,” she followed him into the house.

#chapter 2 #2.3 #anne of green gables #anne of green gables daily #anne daily

[universalistotalis]

Too Far

Angst!!!

Atsumu Miya x Female Reader

Word count: 1.5k

Loving Atsumu Miya was absolute bliss. You loved every second of his affection, his skin, his warmth, his laugh, and his jokes. That giant bastard may be a crackhead to his friends and family, but with you, his affectionate side just pops out of nowhere. His eyes filled with love when he looks at you. His arms opened so wide to envelope you in an embrace so tight, your feet lift up the floor with ease. His words laced with care and love with a hint of playfulness at the side and they never failed to make your insides scramble everytime.

You shake your head from the daydream that you’ve consistently been having since the start of the relationship.

God, you loved him so much, didn’t you? You gave your whole world to the man of your dreams. You sacrificed time, effort, patience, you name it, just to have one second by his side.

And because of that love, you became an absolute fool.

Who were you kidding, right? THE Great Atsumu Miya will never settle. Who were you to tame that wild beast? How special did you think you were when he had a sea of people under his spell, his command?

Just face it, you’re nothing to him.

And so you did. You left your shared apartment after waiting for him to come home for the nth time. Who knows where he was, who he’s with, what he’s doing. You were done thinking of an imaginary Atsumu who will love you wholeheartedly. That’s just not going to happen.

After many sobs and insecurities flooding in, you were ready to face the world again. Even more ready to face Atsumu. He’s nothing to you now. There were no grudges held in your heart. There were no tears in yours eyes. But more importantly, there was new love formed in your chest and that’s reserved for the most important person in your life. You.

“Damn, y/n!!! What happened to you?!” One of your friends cheered as you met to go to a club on a Friday night. Work was pretty hectic lately and you all agreed to a well- deserved night out.

“No kidding, you’re literally glowing!!!” Another hyped and slapped your ass playfully as you walked through the doors. “Let’s get wasted tonight!!!”

And my god, your whole group did. You all danced to your heart’s content, ordered liquor until your head got rid of all inhibitions, laughed at each other’s faces and jokes… overall, it was a night to remember.

“Y/n?” You heard a voice behind you followed by your right wrist being cased within the hands of another.

You were just on the verge of getting sober so you wonder if the image right in front of your eyes was real or not. He used to stand with his chest puffed out in confidence but now, he looked deflated. Under his eyes were dark circles, proof of him not sleeping well. His usual playful demeanor was gone and the man in front of you now looked so lost, confused… lonely.

“Atsumu?” You squinted, not believing the sight in front of you.

“It really is you.” He slurred and you had a whiff of liquor on his breath. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been doing great, Miya. Thanks.” You smiled, genuinely.

“Where’s my sweet nickname?” He joked. “You look so damn happy celebratin’ with yer friends tonight, huh? That happy to be rid of me, ain’t ya?” He chuckled darkly.

You were taken aback with what he said. What does he have to do with you having a great party?

“Miya, don’t do this right now. I have to go.” You tried to excuse yourself from his intrusion.

“I hate it. I hate it so goddamn much.” He whispered, closing the distance between you two and caged you on the wall behind. “I’ve been a mess since ya left, sweetheart. Seeing you having the time of your life makes me feel so damn angry. Am I that easy to forget?”

“Atsumu, I—“

“Come back to me.” He puffed. “Come back to me and I promise to treat ya right. I’ll do everythin’ ya want, just please… I love you.” His voice faltered at the end as whimpers of his cries followed. Never in your whole life did you think you’d see him break down because of you. But here he is! AND you never thought of hearing those three words with utmost sincerity from his lips. But again, here he is!

A nostalgic smile lifted from your lips and Atsumu stared at it for a while. The alcohol in his system was enough to make himself go haywire but your smile sent him spiraling. He meant what he said. He missed you to death. He needed you back.

“Come back to me, please.” He repeated and leaned his forehead on yours.

“I’m sorry, Miya.” You said as you held his face in your hands. “Thank you for being honest with me. But it’s too late. I’ve moved on from everything and you should too.”

His head violently shook no as more tears spilled from his eyes. He’ll do everything for you except let you go. “I’ll be better. Please, I’ll be better! I’ll try my best to keep ya, baby, that’s how much I love you! I can’t—“

“Then try your best with the next person because it won’t be me, Miya. I hope you understand.” You said while wiping his tears. “That relationship was too toxic for me and I can’t go back.”

“I’m sorry.” He said, voice too slow and too low to even hear but you did. “I’m so sorry.”

“Atsumu! You prick!” Your head whipped to the left at the familiar voice that boomed. Osamu barreled over to where you were but his steps slowed as he saw your figure caged inside Atsumu’s arms.

“Y/n.” He said, as if in a daze.

“Hi Osamu.” You greeted awkwardly since Atsumu’s stare is still hard and focused on your face. The alcohol seemed to have a toll on him and he was beginning to doze off. Either that, or he still did not process what you’ve been saying.

“Stop it, man.” Osamu came behind his twin and caught him by the collar. He turned to you next while carrying a limp Atsumu in his embrace. “I’m sorry for his behavior. He drinks more than he can take. He’s been out of it since… you know… your break up.”

You smiled sadly. “Oh.” Well, what were you supposed to say to that?

“Y/n!!! Come back here!” One of your friends saw you and waved you to the table.

“That’s my cue to go.” You smiled.

“Yeah.” Osamu nodded.

“Osamu, you’re here!” Atsumu woke up from his reverie and comically hugged his brother, surprising the both of you.

“You know what? Y/n was here! I told her I love her but she didn’t believe me! Tell her! Tell her for me! Maybe she’ll believe you! Help me man, I can’t lose her!”

Your chest burned at the sight and at his words. How you longed for him to say those three words in the past. But it’s just too late.

“Stop it, Tsumu.” Osamu whispered, heart aching for his twin. He saw how broken he was these past few months but then it was his fault after all. He shot you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry for this again. Take care, Y/n.”

“Take care too, Osamu.” You smiled. “Take care of him too.”

“I will.” He agreed then proceeded to take Atsumu to their table.

“It hurts, Samu.” Sudden whimpers came out from Atsumu’s mouth after a few steps. “It fucking hurts. I don’t think I can take this.”

“Imagine how she felt, you bastard.” Osamu sighed. “She really was a keeper, wasn’t she?”

Atsumu hummed in agreement. “She was. She still is.”

“Look, she’s gone, Tsumu. You need to move the fuck on and stop tormenting the poor girl! You’ve caused her enough pain.” Atsumu then was dumped harshly on the cushions.

“You don’t know what you have until it’s gone.” The saying rang in Atsumu’s ears, echoing louder and louder as the music in the club intensified throughout the night. It mocked him to the core! He drank himself to oblivion for months now, trying to forget your presence in his life. Visions of you were everywhere! You were in his room tucking him to bed. You were in the kitchen whipping up a random recipe from the internet. You were in his living room, dancing to his playlist even when you heard the songs for the first time. You were in the stands cheering for his every move. You were even on his morning jogs, passing his water bottle to make sure he’s hydrated.

You took care of him in the best way possible and he can’t believe how involved you were with his life. How did he not see that? He didn’t realize that what he bothered himself within the past were temporary things that brought temporary bliss. You were his life, his love. How could he throw something so serious? So permanent?

He watched you from afar, drunk as fuck but visions still sharp as a hawk on your side. You were happily talking to your friends, rewarding them with your gorgeous smile and wonderful laugh. Maybe this was his punishment for ever breaking someone as pure as you.

He may be close to where you were but he can never be too close to be yours again.

Okay wait HAHAHA I love Atsumu but I wanted to write an angsty post about him so here it is! This was inspired by the song “Bedroom” by JJ Lin and Anne- Marie. I just love that song so much, I have it on repeat rn.

ALSO YOU'RE SO WORTH IT AND YOU DESERVE THE BEST! Just reminding y'all in case you forgot. <3 hope you liked this one! <3

#atsumu x y/n #atsumu angst #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu reader insert #haikyu x reader #angst #atsumu fic #atsumu x female reader #atsumu scenarios #hq atsumu #atsumu imagines #haikyuu angst

[stanknotstark]

Research and Dating (No They Aren’t Connected)

“So, if you could kidnap me really publicly that would be great.”

“...why?”

“I kinda forgot about this research essay due tomorrow? And like, my prof knows I’m a hero- I even brought my laptop so I can write it in your cell. Is the wifi password still the same?”

It’s Thursday at 8 P.M. and your essay is due in 4 hours. It wasn’t that you had procrastinated it’s because-nope, ya, you procrastinated. Now you were freaking out about it when the glorious idea came to you. 

There were, of course, perks of being frenemies with Loki. You have visited his his base of operations before, his ‘evil lair’, been thrown into one of his cells and ‘suffered’ until he got bored of the Avengers searching for you like chickens with their heads cut off and made theatrics by showing up to them with you in his hands and ‘failing’ to keep you away from the Avengers saving you. 

In all actuality, you had sat in a golden cell but Loki had sat right outside the cell with a chair and read while eating an apple. You couldn’t read the title of the book so you asked him what it was about and Loki had been a little hesitant but fell into your pure curiosity and explained what he had been reading. You’re sure he liked your curious mind as you started asking more questions and challenged the ideas the book gave. It lead to a long discussion of morals, and death, and at one point whether apples or pears were better. It was fun is what you’re trying to say. 

That’s how your friendship blossomed.

So, you call up Loki, yes he has a cell phone, and ask him without explanation at first, “So could you, like, kidnap me but publicly?” 

You can hear the cogs turning in Loki’s head at your request. “Why?” He asks in a smooth voice, betraying no emotion.

“I kinda forgot about this research essay due tonight? And, like, my professor knows I’m a hero. I’ll even bring my laptop so I can write in your cell, the wifi password is still the same right?” You ask Loki. 

Loki sighs over the phone, you can imagine him pinching the bridge of his nose with closed eyes. 

“Yes. Fine. Be at Madison Square Garden in 15 minutes.” The god says and hangs up. 

You smile and pump a fist at your best friend’s save. 

You’re at Madison Square Garden in record time and Loki makes his entrance a show. 

You’re sitting down outside the stadium when Loki materializes from green clouds of magic that open a portal then float into the air as if they’re a sign that’s flashing the words ‘Loki is here!’ in the night sky of NYC. When he sees you he rolls his eyes but people start paying attention so you play along with his ruse.

“Loki! What mischief do you plan to get up to today? It doesn’t matter, I need to bring you in!” You yell at him, almost laughing at how stupid this all seems, and push civilians back behind you. 

Loki chuckles darkly, “You. You are my mischief today, your poor Avengers will never find you. You will become my slave.” Loki says with a voice that is dark but his eyes light up with amusement.

By now hundreds of people have stopped their night to watch you and Loki, phones out and recording everything. 

You smile sardonically at Loki, “Not if I-”

Loki grabs you and pulls you and teleports. When you’re at his base you sigh and pat him on the arm as he pulls from you. 

“Thanks, I owe you big time Lokes.” 

Loki frowns at the nick name you chose. “Please refrain from calling me that or I shall teleport you to your professor and have you face the repercussions of procrastination.” Loki threatens. 

You chuckle, roll your eyes, and head to the cell. It’s just in case someone actually does pop in to ‘save’ you. 

When you’ve settled in the cell Loki raises the golden barriers and magics a chair near to settle with you.

“What do they have you writing about now?” Loki asks. 

You had asked him for help writing other essays because Loki has an eloquent way of speaking. You felt it made you sound smarter and because you spent consistent time with the god you had fallen into talking like him sometimes.

“It’s for my disability class, the sociology class?” You ask Loki if he remembers you telling him about it, at his nod you smile, “Ya, so basically we’re to argue whether we feel prostitution should be legal or not in America considering how much it helps the disabled.” 

You laugh at Loki’s frown. 

“Which side do you argue for?” Loki asks with a small squint as if trying to determine the side before you tell him. 

“I believe it should be legal but have restrictions and rules. If in the wrong hands it could be really bad but at the same time if it’s in good hands it could be really good. It’s a risk but we won’t know how well it’ll work if we never try, you know?” You say with a pondering look. Loki purses his lips but nods at you. 

Loki magics a book into his hands and lets you start writing away. The whole thing is very comforting to you. Sound wise, you can hear Loki let out puffs of breath when he finds something amusing in his book, Then, there’s the rhythmic tapping of your keyboard as you write. Other than that you just enjoy being with the god, even if you aren’t interacting with each other. 

You’ve been harboring a crush on him for awhile but have always kept it hidden. You value his friendship too much to do anything that could jeopardize it. Not to mention, Loki hadn’t shown anything on if he likes you or not. He occasionally flirts with you in battle but that’s about it. So, you feel you know he isn’t attracted to you like that. 

“Loki what’s another word for great?” You mutter.

“Glorious, grand, impressive?” The god supplies you with choices. 

You hum but don’t say anything and continue typing. After you finish your paragraph you look at Loki who glances at you. 

“Thanks.” 

Loki smirks at his book, “Anything for you, darling.” Loki says in a low voice while reading his book. 

See, the nick names had started early on. At first they had confused you but when you had been in battle and helping Tony, Loki had called Tony ‘sweetheart’ so you reasoned Loki just had a thing for nicknames. That doesn’t stop the jolt in your stomach when he does call you sweet names like that though. 

You shake yourself out of your reverie and continue writing. You’re like one, maybe two, paragraphs from being done. You try your best to elongate time to hang out with Loki more but when you finish your essay you don’t have any other excuse. 

That’s why, when you finish and close your laptop with a small ‘click’ and Loki stands and asks if you would like to spend time at his apartment, you’re shocked. 

You stand looking at Loki with wide eyes. 

Loki takes this as an answer and coughs a little, bringing a hand up to rub at his face, he’s trying to hide his embarrassment. 

“I am sorry, I crossed a boundary, it won’t happen again.” 

“No!” You yell, nearly dropping your laptop as you reach towards Loki. You scramble to hold it to your chest again and look at him, shyly pushing a lock of hair behind your ear. 

“I would love to. I was shocked, I always figured I’d be the first to ask.”

Loki looks at you a little doubtfully but sees the truth in your answer and smirks. Instead of replying he waves a hand and the barriers disappear then he holds his hand out to you. You gladly take it and suddenly you’re both standing in a tidy apartment. 

It’s very modern and looks costly. The furniture is all contemporary and different shades of white, brown, and gray, with the occasional splash of emerald green in throw blankets and decorative pillows. You don’t really notice but Loki still holds your hand. 

Loki pulls you by his hand towards his kitchen and puts a kettle of water on on the heating stove top.

“Tea? Or are you more of a coffee person?” Loki asks you with a glance as he pulls out his tea. You finally realize Loki has yet to let go of your hand but you’re not going to complain.

“I love both, but tea will be good for now.” You say lightly, glancing down at your clasped hands when Loki isn’t looking. A small blush heats up your cheeks and you let a stupid smile cross your lips.

You and Loki settle against his bar, still holding hands, while you wait for the water to heat in the kettle. 

“I never had the chance to ask but why are you studying psychology and sociology? I figured a superhero’s salary would be quite enough to live comfortably? Don’t tell me they under pay you.” Loki asks, his tone laced with a threat when he says the last part.

You chuckle. “No, it pays well enough, enough to pay my way through school. I want to help people though, that’s what makes me truly happy. So, naturally, psychology and sociology were natural choices because they help me understand people, the way they think, how they tick, so I can better help them.” You explain.

You look up at Loki who looks at you with an unreadable emotion on his face. Loki then brings a hand up, tucks a rogue lock behind your ear and keeps his hand there. “You are too precious for this world.” He whispers as he looks at you. You feel you cheeks heat up and can’t keep eye contact with Loki. 

Loki clears his throat and drops his hand from your face, looking away from you as well. However, he doesn’t stop holding your hand. You feel your hand become clammy from nerves and hope this doesn’t gross out Loki. At the thought your hand twitches in his and Loki merely squeezes your hand. 

“What other hobbies do you favor, seeing as they obviously kept you preoccupied enough to procrastinate your paper?” Loki asks. 

You smile at the ground because you realize Loki is trying to better know you. 

You look up at Loki again, who is already looking at you. “Well, surprisingly enough research and reading are my main hobbies.” 

“Oh?” 

“I love learning so I read up on whatever subject pulls at my attention at the moment.” 

“And what draws at your attention right now?” Loki asks curious.

You flush and look at the ground, kicking it softly with the toe of your shoe. You mutter the answer.

Loki chuckles, brings his free hand up to tilt your face till you look at him. “Say that one more time, where I can hear it darling.”

“Norse mythology.” You say softly, embarrassed. 

Loki’s eyebrows lift in shock. The look on his face showing that he did not expect that answer at all.

Thankfully the kettle begins whistling and causes the moment to be broken and forgotten. 

Loki makes a cup of tea for the both of you and you both move to his living room, seated on his couch. You’re both sitting close enough to touch at the legs but don’t hold hands anymore. You set your mug on the coffee table in front of you, too hot to hold. Loki however basks in the heat of his cup, his hands wrapped around the mug as if he has just come in from a blizzard.

“I have plenty of texts you may borrow if you want to learn about the true mythology.” Loki offers, looking at you calculatingly.

You had hoped Loki would drop the subject seeing as your research was drawn from your want to learn more about Loki than actual Norse mythology. 

Whatever, shoot your shot, right?

“I’d much rather hear your tales than anyone else’s.” You say, your hands picking at your jeans with nerves. 

Loki hums with a small smile as he takes a sip of his tea. “Of course, darling. There is no better way to learn than from the source of such tales.” Loki says smugly. 

You feel a smile break over your lips as you look at Loki who basks in his arrogance.

“I better watch out, stroking your ego,” You say, Loki raising a brow at your mischievous smirk, “Otherwise you might start sounding like Thor.” You say to knock Loki down a peg. Loki scoffs with a roll of his eyes but you don’t miss the twitch of his lips.

“Do not compare me to my oaf of a brother.” Loki says, finally setting his mug of tea down, resting his hands in his lap. You also don’t miss the twitch of his hands, as if they want to reach out towards you. 

There are too many signs that Loki obviously likes you, it’s almost overwhelming, but you keep yourself pulled together before you ask him the question.

“You know, I’m just kind of going out on a limb here, but uh...You ever plan to ask me out, take me on some romantic dinner or something or do I need to give more incentive?” You say, the confidence in your voice a facade because inside you’re freaking out. 

Loki keeps a blank face as you look at him. Then, he lets a smirk break out over his lips, glances at his tea but his eyes come back to yours. 

“Is that such a good idea? Considering you are still my enemy?” Loki asks.

You grab your tea so you have something to do with your hands, sipping from the earthy, spicy liquid. You let yourself think, letting his question roll off your shoulders and shrug. “I could care less what the Avengers think but we can keep our relationship hidden if that would keep you happy?” 

Loki purses his lips, his eyes squinting at you. “They would cage you, would they not? If they knew you were fraternizing with the enemy?”

“Yes, but I have no doubt you’d let them keep me for long.” You smile at Loki who huffs out laughter. 

“You truly want me?” Loki asks. You don’t fail to hear the insecurity in his tone. 

You set your tea down, grab both of Loki’s hands in yours and look at him, baring all your emotions on your face. “More than you will ever know.” 

Loki squeezes your hands with a soft tilt of his lips.

“Then I suppose it is inevitable. Shall we partake in a date tomorrow night, say seven?” 

You smile at Loki. “I would love to, Lokes.” 

Loki rolls his eyes at the nickname but you know he doesn’t mind it, much. 

Needless to say, you were granted an extension of time to turn in your essay while also scoring a date with your crush.

#research and dating (no they aren't connected) #loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #so like i started writing this before my writing had truly developed into what it is now #so the first part might be a bit iffy and stuff #i tried to fix it but i don't think i did so #anyways im not completely upset with how it turned out #reader insert #my writing #prompt

[nanasparadise]

“Be my valentine” Yan! Josuke x female reader

Valentine’s special! <3

Summary: In order to please your mum, you ask out Josuke for a fake date on Valentine’s Day. Little do you know that the date is realer to him than you would like…

TW: stalking, noncon touching, threat, reader gets physically hurt, toxic relationship, MATURE AUDIENCE ONLY/MINORS DNI

I do not condone any yandere behaviour in real life.

Josuke has been aged up to 18. No minor content on my blog!!!!

Word count: 2442

Nervously, you tucked on the skirt of your school uniform. If your mum would have been here, she’d have scolded you for your tick, informing you that it was rude to fumble with your clothes. You sighed deeply at that thought. Your mum. She was the reason you were in this embarrassing situation now. Gathering all your courage, you took a deep breath and walked up to the most popular guy at your school: Josuke Higashikata. A feeling of dread manifested itself deep in your stomach. “Oh God Y/N, it’s not too late to turn around and leave”, you thought anxiously. Pushing aside your idea of fleeing, you kept heading towards your schoolmate’s direction. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Josuke – on the contrary, you two liked each other enough to share some small talk in the hallway. It’d be hard to bear a grudge against the kindest and happiest boy at school. That was the reason you chose him for this stupid date your mother forced you on. After all, he was known throughout Morioh for his helpfulness. So surely, he’d help you out of your misery as well, right? Seeing your approaching form from afar, Josuke flashed you a gleeful grin and waved eagerly at you. Awkwardly, you waved back, a shy smile adorning your lips. 

“Hey Y/N, great to see you!”, the boy enthusiastically greeted you when you’d finally arrived. Next to Josuke stood his best friend Okuyasu, smiling and waving as well. Though you weren’t really friends, you weren’t surprised by their overbrimming friendliness. 

“Hi Josuke and Okuyasu”, you replied clumsily. In moments like these, you wished you were more socially gifted. Instead, you felt heat coming off your skin from this simple and innocent action, your embarrassment being already visible through your slight stutter and awkward body position.

 “What’s up?”, Morioh’s sweetheart asked you, his grin never leaving his mouth. The pompadour bearing boy relished your bashful behaviour. 

“How cute”, he thought dreamily. 

“Uhm, how do I start…”, you mused, fumbling again with your skirt as your nervousness grew. “Well, you see, I’m kinda in this situation where my mum forces me to go on a date with someone for Valentine’s Day. I know, it sounds stupid and it totally is, but she thinks I should be more self-assured and social and apparently, asking someone out is the perfect opportunity to boost my confidence,” you chuckled timidly.

Josuke’s sky blue eyes lit up at your words. Was he dreaming? Were you, Y/N L/N, his secret crush, really asking him out on a date? Okuyasu seemed to have the same thoughts as he shamelessly pushed his elbow in his best friend’s ribs and wiggled suggestively his eyebrows. Josuke glared darkly at him, signalling the boy to not embarrass him in front of you. Your schoolmate still couldn’t fully grasp the situation. He’d been imagining countless times how it’d be to go out with you: to hold your smaller hand, to touch your shiny hair, to kiss your sweet lips…

Though your following words did put a damper on Josuke’s reverie. 

“Of course it wouldn’t be a real date, you know? We’d be just faking it to please my mum. She threatened she wouldn’t let me home again unless I was in company with my date and by the way she looked at me, I don’t doubt her words a bit.” Oh. So you didn’t really want to be his valentine. Josuke’s cheerful demeanour slowly died down at your statement, his smile vanishing. You stared back at him, confusion entering your mind. Didn’t he agree with your suggestion? Did you ask too much of him? 

“Maybe I should offer him something in return.” 

“I owe you big time if you agree to this. Please Josuke, I really need to do this and I don’t wanna ask another person. I’d be so, so grateful if you’d help me out. I swear, I’ll never bother you again then!”, you pleaded, giving him your best puppy eyes. The boy in front of you couldn’t help but give in to you. His typical grin appeared one more time as his earlier disappointment melted away. You might not ask him out voluntarily, but the male made it his mission to show you after this date just how much he truly loved you - and how you two could be a real couple. 

“Sure thing Y/N,” Josuke answered chipperly, “just one thing – don’t say you bother me. You could never.” The boy winked confidently at you. Again, you felt heat rising in your face as you stuttered awkwardly a “thank you”. Both Josuke and Okuyasu laughed whole-heartly at your reaction, which only increased your embarrassment. “So, we’ll meet next week at 7 p.m. at Tonio’s?”

You were so peaceful when you slept. Slowly, your chest would rise and fall, a calm cycle that would persist until you’d eventually wake up. Tender blue eyes marvelled at your slumbering form. Gently, as to not startle and awaken you, the male caressed your soft cheek. Fortunately for him, you were a deep sleeper. It was ironic how the boy had no qualms breaking into your room at night - he had been doing so for months – but couldn’t have asked you out on a date. No, you had to do that for him, even if it wasn’t out of love. “Yet”, Josuke reminded himself. He was hellbent on making you fall in love with him. Why wouldn’t you? After all, he was Morioh’s sweetheart, admired by everyone. Yes, you’d fall for his charm, he was sure of that. A small sigh escaped his mouth. Josuke’s fingers now wandered down to your lips, wondering how they would feel against his. Longingly, he gazed at you. He would give up everything if it meant to be with you forever, to hold you in his arms every night, to wake up to your beautiful face every morning. For you to be his. “I can’t wait for our date, babe,” Josuke whispered giddily, “it will be the beginning of our relationship, I can feel it.”

To your surprise, your “date” had gone actually quite smoothly. You’d expected an awkward silence between you, but Josuke had kept you entertained the whole time during dinner, cracking jokes and telling odd stories. He’d even gifted you a box of chocolates with a note saying “Be my valentine” on it. You’d refused to take it, but Josuke had been insisted. 

“No really, accept it please. I want to give it to you. Plus, it will increase the authenticity of our date”, he had winked at you with his usual smile. His gentleman behaviour hadn’t stopped there:  your schoolmate had complimented the dress you wore and had even paid for your dinner. No matter how many times you’d persisted on paying yourself, Josuke had remained stubborn. 

“Please, we’re not in the 50s anymore, I can pay for myself. I really don’t wanna burden you any further and-“ 

“No,” he had cut you off, “I’m going to pay for everything. You still don’t understand that you’re not a burden to me. I want this to be the best date ever for you, so of course I’m going to pay.” Realising that you couldn’t have won this argument, you’d simply sighed and rolled your eyes at him while the boy had given you a goofy grin.

Right now, the two of you stood in front of the door of your house. Gingerly, you took Josuke’s hand into yours, giving the illusion that you two had been doing so the whole time, while fumbling for your keys in your purse. The male’s eyes widened at your action and he blushed deeply, butterflies bursting in his stomach. Finally, you managed to open the door and the pair of you entered your home. 

“Mum, I’m back!”, you shouted nervously in the hall, “And my date is with me!” 

“Oh my, dear, no need to scream”, your mother responded as she walked down the stairs. When she perceived you two standing there holding hands, a bright smile appeared on her face. 

“Hello Mrs L/N!”, Josuke greeted her politely, wanting to leave a good impression for her. 

“Hi Josuke! I’m glad to see you here,” your mum answered cheerily, “How’s your mother doing?”

After some small talk and a couple of embarrassing questions concerning your date from your mother, the two of you were outside in front of your door again to say each other goodbye. It was already pitch dark and the cool wind made you shiver slightly. 

“Thank you so much Josuke,” you said eventually, gratefulness dripping from your voice, “without you, I’d be sleeping outside this night.” The male laughed sincerely at your joke. 

“With pleasure Y/N, you know I’d do anything for you.” 

You looked at him with big eyes, astonishment written on your face. He did realise that this had been just a fake date, right? Feeling uncomfortable, you simply cleared your throat, ignoring his comment. 

“Anyway, I still owe you a favour for this. Do you maybe already have something on your mind?”,  you awkwardly asked. 

“How about this”, Josuke murmured dreamily. Without a warning, his lips crashed onto yours. For someone so sweet and friendly, his kiss was surely demanding. You could feel every tiny bit of his passion seeping through his mouth. A pair of hands were placed on either side of your face, ensuring your position. Josuke kissed you as if he’d be drowning and you were his only source of air. He took in every touch, every smell, every taste coming from your body and bathed indulgently in it. While the boy enjoyed every second of this moment, you did not. You thought you had made clear beforehand that you didn’t intend this to be a real date, that you weren’t currently interested in a relationship…  Hesitantly, you placed your hands on Josuke’s chest and pushed slightly, signalling him to let go of you. To your surprise, he did so quite easily.  Through heavy-lidded eyes, Josuke looked down at your smaller form, a love-struck smile building on his face. 

“Josuke…”, you whispered. Ah, how he loved it when you said his name. His grin only grew bigger. “I’m sorry for not having been clear enough, but this wasn’t an actual date. I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m really sorry, I didn’t want to lead you on or something…” Immediately, his happy face fell. 

“But Y/N, we had such a great evening!”, Josuke replied, desperation swinging in his voice, “I know you didn’t intend this to be real, but I thought you changed your mind! You seemed so happy during our date, didn’t I make you happy?” 

“Of course you did!”, you intervened, trying to calm the boy down, “Of course, Josuke. You’re a great guy, really, I just don’t wanna be in a relationship now.” 

“But why?” You could see tears forming in the corner of his blue eyes. “I don’t get it. You said you enjoyed the date and you like me, why not be with me then? I can’t wait for you any longer Y/N, I’ve been already waiting for so long. And now that I’ve got a taste of your love, I can’t go back to simply watching you. No Y/N, I need you now.” His comment gave you the chills. Never in your life would you have thought that you’d be feeling afraid of Morioh’s sweetheart. Suddenly, you were shivering again, but this time, it wasn’t because of the cold. 

“Josuke, I’m sorry about all of this. If I would have known your feelings towards me beforehand, I wouldn’t have asked you out on this fake date. But again, I don’t want a relationship right now. You need to respect that”, you replied, while trying to turn towards the door to flee the situation. Though Josuke made sure you didn’t escape him. One strong hand grabbed forcefully your right hand. Intense eyes bore into yours, a darkness clouding them. You prepared yourself to scream, but your schoolmate reacted faster, putting the other hand over your mouth to muffle your voice. 

“I’m really sorry for what I’ll do now, I truly am, Y/N,” his normally chipper voice sounded so sombre, so dangerous, “but I have no other choice. I want you, I need you. And I have to make sure you feel like that towards me as well.” Suddenly, his hand grasped your little finger and with a snap, Josuke easily broke its bones. Hot pain seethed through your body as you screamed into his other hand. Tears streamed out of your eyes. 

“Are you staying with me now, Y/N? Just nod your head and then I’ll make the pain go away, I promise.” Confused, you just kept staring at him. What was he talking about? You just stood there, too scared to react. Seemingly dissatisfied with your lack of response, Josuke took your ring finger and shattered it, too. Another muffled scream escaped your lips. 

“Please, my love, I don’t enjoy this. I’m hurting when you’re hurting. Just nod your head for me, okay? Everything will be alright then”, the boy answered, tears streaming down his cheeks as well. Too afraid that he would injure you more, you simply do as he told you. A sigh of relief came from his mouth. “Thank you.” He whispered nearly inaudibly. A few moments later, you could feel how your previously damaged fingers were miraculously healed again. “

H-h-how did-d y-you- “, you stuttered in disbelief, though Josuke immediately interrupted you. 

“I’ll explain it to you another time, okay?” He was all soft edges again as he tenderly took your hands in his. You instinctively flinched at his action, scared that he would hurt you again. But the boy seemed to choose ignoring your reaction. “I’ll pick you up for school tomorrow. I can’t wait to tell Okuyasu that we’re a couple. From now on, we’ll spend every moment together, right, my darling?” You knew, you didn’t have much of a choice. Feeling like you were at his mercy, you peeped a quiet “yes”. Josuke’s face lit up at your compliance. He happily planted a kiss at your forehead. “You should go back inside, I don’t want you to get sick due to the cold”, the boy murmured to you in order to say goodbye. Josuke finally released his grip from your hands, veering himself away from your house. You stared after him, still under shock. But before your now “boyfriend” truly left, he turned around one more time, shooting you his most dazzling smile. 

“Goodnight,” he wished you softly, “dream of me.”

#JJBA #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #yandere jjba #diamond is unbreakable #diu #yandere josuke #yandere josuke x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #minors dni #tw: yandere #tw: aged up character #tw: noncon touching #tw: stalking #tw: injury #tw: threats

[ghostlywritten]

If Only I Had Stayed In The Shadows - Chapter Ten

James Potter x OC

Words: 4,8k

Prologue  Chapter One   Chapter Two  Chapter Three  Chapter Four  Chapter Five  Chapter Six  Chapter Seven  Chapter Eight  Chapter Nine

The break passed and life in Hogwarts continued in blissful peace for the next few months. At least for us students. Outside of the walls and grounds of Hogwarts, the situation was getting darker and darker each day. People went missing or were declared as dead, causing chills down our spines whenever the list grew longer with each newspaper.

I sighed, folding a piece of parchment that contained a letter from my parents about their well being. They were alright but had to take a lot of extra hours, giving how more and more muggleborn or halfblood wizards and witches were registered every day and night with the worst injuries at their hospital. Some - if not many - did not make it by the end of the next dawn. A hand snatched the letter from my hand and I glanced over at the messy-haired boy next to me as he unfolded it again. "Ever heard of privacy?" I asked and his eyes widenend in mock-astonishment, "No, what's that?"

His good mood evaporated slightly though after he skimmed the letter and an usually solemn expression graced his features instead. "Things are really getting worse everyday, aren't they?" he asked quietly, catching Sirius' attention from his other side.

"What's getting worse everyday?" he questioned, joining our conversation. Remus, Peter, Lily and Marlene looked up from their sheets as well. We were gathered together in the Common Room, sitting at one table to 'study'. Some would think it odd since we never usually mingled together, especially with Lily's open hatred towards James and everything the Marauders stood for. But ever since he and I got together, everyone consequently spent more time together as a group, surprisingly getting along...most of the time.

"A lot of people are dying or getting injured," James replied, handing me back my letter.

"Mom says, the hospital is being run down. They won't be able to carry so many patients for long," I added, feeling uneasy, "Apparently the healthcare system is close to collapsing."

"That's bad," Marlene commented, worry creasing her forehead, "What's going to happen if this goes on?" Everyone shrugged, glancing at each other helplessly as no one had an answer.

"The Ministry will figure it out eventually," Remus tried to reassure us all, straightening up in optimism.

"Right, they always do," Lily agreed, causing Sirius to scoff quietly. She gave him a challenging look, raising her eyebrow. "You've got anything to say, Black?"

"There is a lot I could say that would certainly not please you, Evans," Sirius quipped.

"Anyways," James cut in before a bicker session could begin between them, "We shouldn't turn our hair grey because of this. We are young! And still have more than a year left in the safest place in the country."

I nodded in agreement, leaning into him as he threw his arm around me. Lily silently flickered her deep green eyes between us.

"But what happens after we graduate?" Peter spoke up with an almost quivering voice as he still looked worried.

"Let our future selfs worry about that," Sirius dismissed.

"We should still have a plan though," Lily pointed out and I allowed a frown on my face after she finally ripped her intense gaze off. She had been doing that a lot lately, staring at our interactions longer than deemed normal. What was her issue? "You know, the teachers are planning to start sessions for career advice with each of us. Having no plan probably won't look good."

"Oh, I already know what I'm going to do," Sirius shot back immediately, smirking confidently, "Auror sounds pretty enticing, especially during this time, doesn't it?"

"Same," James said and I resisted the urge to raise my eyebrows at his confidence, "That or Quidditch," he added as an afterthought.

"I don't know," Marlene mused, "Auror does have a nice ring to it but I always thought I would do something with Potions...," Stunned silence and a collective jaw drop followed. The brown-haired beauty burst out in laughter at our disbelieved looks, shaking her head, "Just joking. You should see your faces."

I rolled my eyes at her. "You really got us there for a second, Marls," Remus chuckled.

The evening passed and even though I would have liked to say we did a lot of studying...we didn't. "Well, Remus and I gotta go," Lily sighed, getting up, "We're patrolling tonight."

"Uh, sounds fun," Marlene commented sarcastically and the red head shot her a look.

"Right, on it!" Remus got up as well, readying himself, "Boys, don't pull any pranks tonight. It will make me look bad."

"But Moony, now is the best time! With you on patrol, we won't get any punishment!" Sirius stated indignantly.

"That's exactly what I mean with making me look bad," Remus remarked with a sigh, "I'm a prefect, mate. Help me out by not doing anything."

The black-haired boy seemed to contemplate his options before giving in with a pout, "Fine, but you owe me."

"Good boy," Remus said, patting his head like a dog, "I'll see you guys later...ladies, have a good night."

"Night, Remus!"

"So, if no pranks are allowed...how about we get a midnight snack from the kitchen and head to the Astronomy Tower?" James suggested and I gave him an offended look even though my heart fluttered at his romantic suggestion. "I am second to your pranks? Really?"

"Of course you are!" Sirius snickered.

"Of course you are not!" James contradicted and it was his best mate's turn to give him an affronted look. "Really, Prongs? You're giving me up for a lass so easily?"

"...Pretty much, yes," James shrugged, causing me to snort.

Sirius pouted. "Can I at least tag along?"

"Me too?" Peter added himself.

"Sorry mates, this time is only for me and my love," James declined, pulling me closer as we got up and kissing my temple. I blushed slightly at his open affection. Ever since New Year's Eve we had become closer and practically glued to each other. I couldn't believe my luck at this point, wondering how I had managed to capture the attention of this charismatic and sweet boy when I was a rather boring girl with a boring life. Yet, here we were, officially together for about four months in and going strong.

After grabbing a few snacks from the kitchen, we headed up to the highest tower in the school. I sat down at the ledge, leaning against the barrier with my arms and resting my chin on them as I breathed in the fresh night air. James settled down next to me, quietly handing me a sandwich I bit into immediately whilst we enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere and presence of the other. The view was magnificent, moonlight reflecting from the slight waves of the black sea and I imagined the Giant Squid breaking the surface with its tentacles from time to time.

"What are you thinking about?" James eventually asked softly and I glanced over. His cheek rested on his crossed arms, eyes locked on my face. I blushed slightly at his gaze, looking back out at the landscape. A tinge of happiness rose in me as I thought how life was for me at the moment. Despite my parents throwing fits because of my career choices, I had a great boyfriend, who supported me in everything. And as cliché as it sounded, he made me feel safe during the dangerous times of war raging just outside of the Hogwarts grounds. Is that what love makes you feel-? My thoughts came to a screeching halt at the l-word before it started racing uncontrollably fast. Love? Did I love him?

"Cec?" James poked my arm, breaking me out of my reverie and I twitched slightly in surprise, "Are you spacing out on me?"

"N-no, I was just...," my eyes flickered around for an escape, "..daydreaming," I ended lamely, pressing my mouth against my underarm.

"Okay?" James raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing me, "Are you cold? You are twitching like a weirdo."

"Jeez, thanks," I said sarcastically, though immediately blushed when he scooted closer, throwing an arm around me. "It's alright, weirdo," he said with a grin, "I'll be your knight in shining amor once again and keep you warm."

"And once again, I gotta remind you of a little magic trick called Heating Charm," I replied with the same grin, warmth spreading through me at his cute gesture. James was full of cute gestures, it was a miracle no one knew that. Maybe, because he had never been able to show this side of him before. I bit my lip, shyly acknowledging the increase of my heartbeat at his proximity, the realisation of my feelings suddenly becoming clear.

I had fallen for that idiot.

Days had passed and I was mulling over how to tell James about my feelings. Should I tell him at all? Should I wait for him to say it first? Did he feel the same anyway?

There was only one person to ask for love advice. Someone, who had helped me before.

"Marlene, should I tell him?" I asked.

"Absolutely not," the beautiful Gryffindor answered immediately with her eyes wide.

"Why not?"

"The boy has to say it first. That's the rule."

I made a face. "Is that really? Or are you just making it up?"

Marlene sighed, grabbing my shoulders. "Dearest Cec. We girls easily fall in love. And we figure it out quite easily, too. A boy usually needs a while longer and if the girl were to approach him with her feelings, he would immediately feel swamped and make a beeline for the next exit. Until he is not sure of his own feelings, I wouldn't tell him."

I frowned slightly, "That's a bit biased, don't you think? I'm sure not all boys would try to run away."

"Oh believe me, they will," Marlene stated almost darkly. Something told me, she was talking from experience but I was not enough of a Gryffindor to dig deeper. She noticed my gaze though and immediately let go of my shoulders, leaning back in nonchalance. "I mean, you can risk it and tell him or you can wait. Personally, I believe waiting is the best. It doesn't hurt now, does it?"

I pondered over her words whilst wandering the halls in search of the one boy, who kept running through my mind. Sure, it wouldn't hurt to wait for him to say it first, but the question was how long would he need to realise it? Could I perhaps quicken it up by just telling him first, making him notice his own feelings faster? Or would it just pressure him to say it, too even if he doesn't mean it? That thought filled me with horror and I swiftly decided to keep my mouth shut.

Though, when I rounded the corner to the courtyard and saw him standing in all his bespectacled, nut brown messy haired glory I couldn't help but suddenly hear my heartbeat loud and clearly, drumming in my ears in a pace it would usually go after a sprint or a run up of blasted staircases. I couldn't help but stop short in my movements to savour the sight of his smile for a second, the same smile he would direct at his mates and me, all the people he loved (perhaps he did actually love me, too), his teeth shining in the sunlight that would occasionally peak through between the many clouds and I decided to tell him my feelings then and there, head slightly dizzy from the once again quick change of mind. But before I took a step forward, my eyes flickered away from him at the reflection of the sun on shiny red hair, rippled in perfect waves and slightly blinding. And then they flickered towards a pair of glistening, emerald green eyes that were smiling at the exact same boy I wanted to talk and spill my feelings to.

I swiftly stepped back in the shadows, wincing at my own behaviour. Why was I spying on them? They were doing nothing but talking, laughing at each other...something I had never seen Lily do with James before. Ever. Wishing I could hear what they were saying I looked back at James, feeling my chest warm at the sight of his smile but almost burn at the realisation who it was directed to. All the people he loved...

'No,' I shook my head, 'We've talked about this before we got together. He made it clear that he lost interest in her...after pining after her for years.' She clearly never reciprocated his feelings, so their not-lovestory was over when he moved on. But what if she did reciprocate his feelings? I thought back on all the times I caught her staring at us. Could it be that she had been feeling something for him all along and was just hiding it? Or didn't realise it until now?

Marlene's lessons on keeping a boy interested crossed my mind. Would trying hard to get work on girls, too? After all, James had been chasing her for years and suddenly stopped paying attention to her. He was even in a relationship. But would that spark an interest in Lily? Certainly not. She wasn't the type to chase after someone, who was taken, not to mention one, who had been annoying her for years. No, she was just befriending him now that he wasn't pining after her, seeing as they were in the same friendship circles. We were all spending more time together, the girls and the Marauders. And as Marlene, Alice and I were starting to get along more with the boys, so was Lily. It was bound to happen that we all grew closer. If anything, it was a good thing.

I relaxed a bit at that conclusion, smiling slightly as they laughed quite loudly at something James said. Back then, when I was obsessing more over other people's relationships (since I had none of my own), I always thought they would get along really well if James hadn't been chasing her in his boisterous and overly-done way. Him, with his wild and goofy nature that would dare her to many adventures, and her, who would be able to tame him and not take it too far, keeping him on the ground. 

+A perfect friendship. 

A perfect relationship.

My smile faded and I turned around. Despite myself, I didn't dare to reveal my feelings to the boy on that day.

Neither did I on the following days that turned to weeks until we reached the end of the spring and the world slowly turned warmer in the first days of the summer with a turn from April to May. Everything was as normal as it could get when you were friends with the Marauders. Classes were the same, Quidditch practices were the same, we had won the last game against Ravenclaw and were now on first place to win the Cup as long as Slytherin lost against Hufflepuff (which was quite unlikely, but nobody tell James). The Marauders pulled their usual pranks, although they were more tamed than in their previous years and less directed at us girls. James and I were still going to strong...yet none of us had said the l-word even though we had been together for almost eight months by now. And although Marlene kept reassuring me that it was normal for boys to take longer in their admittance for love, all the romantic books that I'd read throughout my teenage years stated otherwise. We should have long since reached that stage to proclaim our love for each other, shouldn't we? Hell, James proclaimed his love for Lily everyday for years ever since he saw her and they weren't even together. It shouldn't be hard for him to realise whether he loved me or not.

This fueled my insecurities more each day that passed without a confession, which caused me to keep my mouth shut about my own feelings, too. Instead I found myself frequently catching James and Lily alone, deep in conversation, whenever I was looking for him after he went missing on all of us. Either at the library, where I had never seen him go as often as now and on his own will, too, or outside at the courtyard or on the Hogwarts grounds with her sitting in the shade of a tree and him dangling from a branch above her, grinning down at her as she laughed whenever his glasses slipped askew from his upside down position. It was practically a picture ripped from the pages of a romance novel. And the burning feeling in my chest would continue.

"Lily and James are getting along pretty well, aren't they?" I commented off-handedly one day. Marlene, Alice and I were sat in the library together, studying for the upcoming exams with Lily having gone to fetch more books. Alice tensed up slightly, her eyes flashing from me to her book whilst Marlene looked up, shrugging nonchalantly. "Guess so. Now that he is not annoying her anymore."

"Right. Good thing," I said, nodding along to her words. Needless to say it was relieving to see that she had the same thoughts as me about this. An expert like her would have caught on if there was something more to their sudden closeness, right? Nonetheless I looked over at Alice, who suddenly seemed very busy with scribbling something down on her parchment. Alice, who out of the three of us was the closest to Lily and who would likely know exactly what was going on. "What do you think, Alice?" I asked her bluntly as she didn't seem to want to join the conversation on her own.

Startled, she looked up and I gave her a tight-lipped smile as I awaited her answer. "Eh, yes. They seem to get along better than before. At least, Lily is not yelling her head off anymore every time she sees him," she replied, laughing albeit nervously. Just then, the aforementioned girl headed back towards our table with four books stacked in her arms. I gnawed on my lip, wondering how to ease the constriction in my chest that had been my constant companion for a while now with the ongoing uncertainty.

"Hey Lily, are you dating someone?" I asked her as she sat down. Her books promptly landed on the table with a bang as she had slackened her grip on them in surprise. I cringed slightly at the glare thrown at us from Madam Pince and Lily mouthed a silent 'sorry' at her.

"What? Why do you ask?" she coughed slightly, glancing at the other girls, who had looked up in interest now.

I shrugged. "Just wondering. You are pretty and someone ought to have to courage to ask you out, now that James is not holding anyone back from it," I laughed slightly at the end, hoping to dissolve the suddenly awkward atmosphere that appeared at my statement.

"She's right, Lils," Marlene thankfully butted in, blissfully unaware, "You are the only single among us and you've been for a while. It's time to get some!" Lily went beet red, reaching over to smack her on the arm as we all snickered slightly. "Jesus, Marlene. That's so inappropiate!"

"What? It's true! You are the only single among us. And someone is bound to have asked you out lately! Right?" the brown-haired beauty pressed on and I had never been more grateful for her noisiness than now.

Lily grumbled under her breath, hesitating slightly before she gave in, "Maybe. Some Ravenclaw perhaps." Our eyes widened and Marlene squealed as quietly as she could. "I'm not interested though!" she quickly added at our excited looks, deflating my relief, "Now drop it. We are here to study." And with that, she successfully ended the topic.

Later at night I met up with James at the Astronomy Tower, our usual spot when we wanted to hang out after curfew. "Hey, how was your day?" he greeted me warmly as I sat down next to him at the edge of the tower, resting my arms against the railing. A cool breezed rushed throughout the tower and James quickly scooted closer to wrap his arms around me before I even started to shiver and I smiled at his sweet gesture.

"Quite well. Studied a lot. And you?"

"Quite well. Pranked a lot," he mimicked, grinning when I laughed slightly. "Which poor soul did you harrass this time?" I asked, resting the side of my head against my arms as I listened attentively to him recounting each prank with great detail, his arm leaving me once in a while to emphasize something but never failing to come back around me. "Sounds like you had a lot of fun today...," I remarked when he ended and he nodded with a beaming grin, "...and when did you study?" His beam deflated into a pout, causing my shoulders to shake in silent laughter.

"I don't need to study," he grumbled nudging me. "Sure, you don't." I nudged him back, slipping to the side and almost under the railing when he nudged me slightly harder. He quickly grabbed me by the arm and pulled me back towards him. "Sorry about that," he apologised embarrassed and I giggled slightly, resting against him. "Don't worry, I don't mind this at all," I replied, snuggling my head against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tightly towards him. "Mhmm, I'm sure you don't," he chuckled into my hair, his lips grazing slightly against my earlobe and causing me to shiver. I could feel his smile as he deliberatly brushed against my ear again and I squirmed slightly, burying my red face in his chest. "Why so shy all of a sudden?" he teased and I stifled a gasp as he playfully nibbed at my ear. "I'm not shy," I protested, voice muffled. "Is that so?" He tried to back away but I tightened my arms around his waist, firmly keeping my face planted against his chest. "Yes!"

He laughed lightly, promptly dropping on his back and pulling me on top of him. I adjusted my position, placing a leg on each side of his hips and resting my ear on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I could stay like this for a long while," James commented with a blissful sigh as he wrapped his robes around me for warmth. I raised my head to shoot him a smile and he grinned back at me softly. Craning my neck I placed a kiss against his jaw, unable to resist the urge. He quickly pulled me further up, rising up slightly to capture my mouth with his and my eyes fluttered shut as he held the back of my head, his fingers grasping my hair. I fisted his shirt, a swarm of butterflies causing a wreckage in my stomach as he molded his lips against mine, his tongue peeking out to run across my lower lip when a sudden noise erupted somewhere close.

I pulled away quickly. "Did you hear that?" I asked breathlessly as I looked up.

"Hear you moan for me?" James tugged me back down by the neck. "Not yet," he whispered huskily against my mouth. My eyes widened in surprise, heart pounding against my ribcage at his words. He nipped at my lip with his teeth playfully before fully placing his lips against mine again until I almost forgot what had interrupted us in the first place. But the fear of getting caught outside of curfew broke me out of my daze once more. "Seriously, James," I whispered breathlessly, looking up to squint at the doorway, "I think someone's down there. They might come up." James groaned, tugging at my shirt. "No ones down there."

"And what was that noise? What if we get caught?" I asked, sitting up.

"Probably gonna get detenti- uff," he hissed and I glanced down at him to see him holding his breath. "What's wrong...?" I questioned when I realised I had sat up directly on his groin. 

Oh. 

"Oh, Cec," he breathed out as his eyes darkened, "You really shouldn't have done that." He shot up, crashing his lips against mine before I could get another word out, his hand coming up to entangle in my hair as his other arm wound tightly around my waist, pulling me flush against him. A small moan escaped me when his sudden movement caused his hips to grind against mine as I sat securely between his torso and his slightly raised knees. "There is my moan," he smirked against my lips and I could have sworn my heart stopped at this devilish sight. Breathing out shakily, I took his face between my hands, seeing his eyes soften slightly before I tilted my head to deepen the kiss, unable to restrain myself in any way. He reciprocated eagerly, his hand fisting in my hair as our tongues clashed together. I moved slightly against him, a flash of excitement coursing through me when I heard his breath hitch. "Fuck, Cec," he groaned in my mouth and my eyes almost rolled back in pleasure at the mere sound. He reached down to grasp my thigh tightly, pulling me closer and I gasped against his mouth. His thumb stroke softly over my skin, smiling at the goosebumps erupting everywhere. He let his hand travel up until he reached the end of my skirt. "Can I?" he asked without detaching his lips once and I nodded, resisting the urge to moan when he dug his fingers in the exposed flesh under my skirt. "James," I breathed out as I broke away for air, feeling him shiver. His mouth trailed down to my neck, nibbling on it as I tangled my hand in his hair, his own letting go of my waist and reaching up to undo the buttons of my shirt-

"James and Cec sitting in a tree," an all to familiar voice reached our ears and my eyes snapped open. "K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" James halted his movements, burying his face in my neck with a groan.

"First comes love!" Sirius sang joyfully as he appeared by the doorway, a piece of parchment in one hand and his wind lit up at the tip in the other. "Then comes marr-holy shit!" His eyes widened slightly at our disheveled figures but his smirk came back as soon as it had disappeared. "My my, first come the babies it seems with you two!"

"Fucking hell, Sirius!" James cursed, turning around to glare at his best mate.

"Hi Prongs!" Sirius greeted innocently, waving his parchment.

"Worst timing ever, mate!" I buried my face in my hand in embarrassment, wondering if our compromising position would go unnoticed if I pretended that it wasn't compromising.

"Sorry Prongsie, your babymaking has to wait. We've got a little something going on tonight," Sirius said, not sounding sorry at all as he nodded outside. I peeked a glance between my fingers to see James' eyes widen under his slightly askew glasses. Glancing over my shoulder I caught sight of the full moon, partially obscured by a few clouds.

"Right, give us a minute please," James requested and Sirius disappeared down the stairs again. His hazel eyes appeared startingly lighter under the shine of the full moon as he grasped my hips softly with both hands. "I've got to go," he said quietly and the atmosphere seemed suddenly serene in contrast to a minute ago.

"That's okay," I replied as quietly, adjusting his glasses once again and he smiled that sweet smile, that one damn sweet smile only reserved for his loved ones and my mouth opened before I could stop myself, "James, I l-"

"Prongs! Hurry up already!" Sirius cut me off from down the stairs. James huffed, rolling his eyes at his mate.

"I'm sorry. I really gotta go," he said and I nodded quickly, scrambling to get up and off him. He adjusted his clothes before stepping closer, giving me a sweet kiss. "Good night, love," he said softly as he fastened up the buttons he had undone on my shirt, "I will see you tomorrow?"

"Definitely. Good night."

Unbeknownst to him, to Sirius and to me, Sirius had just saved me from committing the biggest mistake tonight. Twice.

Chapter Eleven

#James Potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter x oc #james potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #marauders imagine #harry potter fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #Marauders #sirius black imagine #Sirius Black #Remus Lupin #Lily Evans #marlene mckinnon #marauders fic #Harry Potter

[softykooky]

Sanctuary: Four

summary: your favorite color is yellow. taehyung’s favorite color is red. your favorite flowers are peonies. you still haven’t asked taehyung what his are. 6.8k words.

genre: mafia au, angst, ot7 x reader

warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, verbal/physical abuse (not from members), blood

author’s note: i love seeing all your messages so much!! even if i don’t post a reply, please know that it does not go unseen or unappreciated. it makes me smile every time :) i hope you guys enjoy! 

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       It had become a lonely routine for you to wait until everyone in the house was asleep to roam the vast halls and pretend that it was only you. It was relieving. To not be in constant fear of your father lurking around the corner or the pretense you had to keep with Soyeon, as much as you loved your sister. It was nice to pretend for a while. Until the sun inevitably came up and you retreated back into your room. 

       You padded to the kitchen quickly, keeping an eye out for any spare family members or butlers that hadn’t gone to bed yet. It was moments like these that needed to be romanticized. So every night, you pretended it would be the last night you get to feel cool marble tile under your feet. The last night you could dance in the quiet of the kitchen with no one watching. The last night you could make a grilled cheese while everyone was asleep and eat it all by yourself. The last night you could just be, with no regard to space and time. No thoughts, and no pain. No mom and dad and Soyeon. That was how you found your happiness in this home. 

       You flipped the spatula gingerly, bursting into a rare smile at the sight of a perfectly golden brown slice of bread. Nothing calms a soul quite like grilled cheeses do. Your mind drifts to Jin’s face when he came to retrieve your plate one day, only to find that the grilled cheese he had made was devoured and the plate was licked clean. Your’s wasn’t even half as good as his was. Maybe it was the type of cheese or the butter. Or maybe the smile that came with it every time he appeared outside your door. 

       You snapped out of your reverie at the sound of uneven footsteps thudded from outside the kitchen. Your blood ran cold as your father, clutching a bottle of vodka to his chest, stumbled into the room and locked eyes on your figure. He smirked smugly and took another swig. 

       “Well if it isn’t my pet. What are you doing out of your cage so late?” His words slurred together and you almost wouldn’t have understood if it hadn’t been for the years of practice you’ve gone through in deciphering your father’s intoxicated words. 

       “I’m...nothing. I’m not doing anything.” It had been a feat for you to even speak up in his presence.

       You’re weak, Y/N. Weak and scared.

       He chuckled darkly. “Yes, that’s right. You always do nothing. You are nothing.” Something inside of you stretched thinly, so close to snapping but not quite as it fought to hold on. Your body shook with the anger and frustration you were not allowed to feel all those times before. All those times he belittled you and made you feel like you were not worth the air that you breathe. 

       “You know sometimes I wonder about just shipping you off somewhere and giving Soyeon the company instead.” He drawls, still nursing the bottle as if it were his baby.

       “But god knows that nitwit would spend the entire fortune on new shoes.” Your hands still clutched the spatula as they shook with anger, yet you stayed silent. 

       “You never did tell me what you did to land in the hands of Bangtan, dearest daughter. Enlighten me. Why would they take you, worthless as you are, in?” He leaned against the table on two elbows, face coming to rest on his hands as he glared at you coldly, smiling even wider at the sight of your teary eyes and quivering stature. 

       “You must’ve made a good whore for them then.” 

       Snap.

       “Do you enjoy looking in the mirror when you see the despicable monster staring back at you?” Your words almost rolled off your tongue uncontrollably. You hadn’t the heart to feel regret for them yet, just staring at your father as his eyes sharpened and he sat up straighter. He wasn’t used to your defiance. 

       “No wonder Mom fucking despises your presence and leaves whenever she gets the chance. You’re repulsive.” In the back of your head, something was screaming at you to stop talking. To shut up and take the brunt of it like you always do, until he fell asleep and you could retreat to your room. But you had been holding in anger for far too long to feel sorry.

       Your father stood up slowly, hands still glued to the glass bottle as his smirk widened in realization of what you had just done. Rarely had you ever talked back to him, much less insult him like you did. Your heart dropped as his chuckles morphed into a full sadistic laugh that bounced off the walls of the kitchen. He looked at you with an intensity you had never seen before and spoke. Deathly calm.

       “Oh, Y/N”, he stalked closer to you, still separated by the marble kitchen island but you still instinctively took a step back. 

       “I’m going to enjoy beating that attitude out of you.” 

       It was a game of moves and countermoves. Each step he took towards you, you took one back. And in the vast kitchen of your family home, it was easy to put distance between you. Easier when he was completely off his rocker after drinking an unholy amount of vodka. 

       “I-I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean it. You don’t have to do this.” Your voice shook as you tried to placate your father, who had rage swirling in his eyes at the sight of you. He said nothing. Only laughing in response. 

       “You’re drunk. Please.” God, Y/N. You and your big mouth. You knew this would happen. 

       With alcohol impairing his senses, it was easier for you to predict his moves and get out of the way more quickly. As he lunged at you with a shout, you dodged out of the way and ran to the other side of the kitchen, heart thundering in your chest. You hadn’t expected him to chuck the heavy vodka bottle at you, clocking you in the temple with a painful thud as you crumpled to the floor. The glass shattered in half at your feet. The familiar warmth of blood trickled down your forehead. Slow footsteps made their way towards your weak form.

      Your father knelt down and gripped the collar of your sweater, pulling your head up from the floor. Your vision was blurred from the pain. 

       “You. I do so much for you.” He slaps you across the face, one hand still clutching your collar. You almost hadn’t noticed the hit in your dazed state. 

       “I give you a roof to live under. Food, clothes, money.” He emphasizes each word as he says it, correspondingly slamming your frail body to the hard floor. You couldn’t breathe as he knocked the air out of your lungs, only helplessly staring up at him through teary eyes. 

       “And this is how you thank me? You ungrateful brat.” 

       Your face contorted to an expression of fury. Damn the consequences, you wanted to fight back. And if he hits you twice as hard for it, then you would pay that price. You reached up and swiped your nails across the plane of his face, relishing in the thin strips of blood that immediately appeared afterwards. His shock gave you time to get out from underneath him. 

       Your father touched his cheek and pulled back to find the palm of his hand smeared in red. It seemed as if that sobered him up completely, expression turning calm and dark. You watched him in half-satisfaction and horror, anticipating his next move.

       He slowly bent down and picked up the half broken vodka bottle that laid haphazardly at his feet, clutching the neck with a white-knuckled fist, face completely devoid of any human emotion. The shattered bottle was jagged at the end he was currently pointing at you, its edges spliced dangerously and glinting under the harsh light overhead. You had two hands raised in front of you, like a zookeeper attempting to pacify an overzealous animal. 

       It only took a slight distraction of his roaring laughter and the shock of his approaching speed towards you for you to let your guard down. You reacted just a millisecond to slow, and the sharp end of the broken battle was swiped across your abdomen, so quickly you almost hadn’t felt the searing pain that made you want to faint right there and then. Like flames licking on your skin. Your hands came up to clutch the bleeding wound that had already drenched through your clothes. Your knees buckled as you collapsed once again on the floor, leaning on the wall for support. Just keep pressure. Keep pressure and you won’t bleed out. Your breaths came out in pained gasps.

       The bottle met the floor with a shattering sound that was far too delicate after what it had done to you in the hands of your father. Like a predator to its already injured prey, your father approached you to come in for the kill. To finish the hunt. His shaking hands gripped onto your neck, so small and thin in his grasp that you were scared it would just break with the slightest pressure. If this was to be the way you left this world, you would make sure he remembered every second. You spat out the blood in your mouth onto his face, grinning in delight as droplets stung his eyes and splattered over his face. He squeezed your neck tighter.

      “You know, I could always make it look like an accident if I killed you here.” His eyes maniacally stared into your’s as the air was suddenly stolen from your lungs, both from his hands and his words. You clawed at the arms that held you to the wall, desperate for some relief.

      “Could leak to the press that your car crashed somewhere. No one would even question it.” 

       Stay awake, Y/N. Fight back. You wanted to. You wanted to fight tooth and nail but all you could focus on was the blood that was seeping out of your stomach and the burn in your lungs as you worked to keep your consciousness. But his grip was so tight and so painful. His bark as stinging as his bite.

       Your father’s hands left your throat abruptly and you gulped in air. Who knew oxygen could taste sweet? You keeled over on the floor, coughing out the pain in your throat and trying to ground yourself. There’s a warm hand on the small of your back, though. Impossibly warm and spanning the entire length of your midsection. It caresses you so softly you almost hadn’t noticed it was there. It pulls you closer across the cold floor into a wide chest and you wonder if you had really died and this was an angel to take you away from such a cruel world. An angel to take you to sanctuary. 

       The angel has such a familiar face when you turn around to meet his eyes though. He looks eerily identical to a certain boy named Taehyung, and his face is creased in worry as your words are stolen from your tongue. The pain reverberating through your body makes it hard to speak, and even harder to stay awake. 

       “Y/N? Don’t go to sleep, just stay for a second longer.” Taehyung didn’t know what to do. Jin was the one who had medical training, not him. He could only stare flabbergasted as your face went impossibly pale and your whole body shook. He looked down at where you still held your midsection, where your hand was completely drenched in red and blood began to pool around where you lay.

       “Hyung! S-She’s bleeding out!” Tears welled in his eyes in sheer panic and desperation, enveloping his own hand over yours to apply more pressure, sorry’s tumbling from his lips when you winced at the pain. 

      Namjoon looked over to the two of you as the rest of the boys dealt with restraining your father. With more force than necessary. Jungkook made sure bruises would be left behind, his anger communicated in the way he held your father down. 

       “Taehyung”, you whispered so lightly as your body objected to the pain of talking. His eyes snapped to your’s, a hand coming up to cradle your face gently. Namjoon appeared at your other side, examining your wounds and frantically yelling at someone over the phone that he shakily held to his ear. 

       “Don’t kill him. Don’t kill my father.” Your voice cracked and you cried both in relief and worry about what was to happen next. Even after this, you didn’t want your father to die. At least not yet. Not before you got the chance to talk to him. 

       “We won’t,Y/N.” Taehyung smiled down at you in his arms to distract your sadness. “Once you’re all better, you can do that yourself, yeah?” You tried your best to return his smile, managing a slight curve of your lips as a shaky breath left your lungs. Taehyung’s eyes widened as your’s began to droop and your breathing had become shallow.

      “Y/N, please stay awake. What’s….What’s your favorite color?” He stammered, slightly nudging you so you wouldn’t drift off. You wanted to laugh at the question, but couldn’t bear to. 

       “Yellow.” 

       “Good, good. Mine is red. What’s your favorite flower?” Taehyung would look back on this later and want to slap himself for asking you such mundane questions while you were oozing blood on your kitchen floor. But it was all he could think of to make sure you stayed awake for as long as you could. 

       You groaned in pain, deepening the furrow in Taehyung’s brow. “Peonies”, you whispered lightly, your voice slowly fading away. You couldn’t find the energy to talk anymore. Or breathe without feeling sharp pain. 

       For once, you felt safe to leave behind your consciousness and fall into the sleep you tried to fight. Safe and warm. Was it his arms that had made you feel that way? Or knowing that they were all there and that your father couldn’t hurt you anymore at that moment. You closed your eyes, the last thought on your mind being regret. You hadn’t stayed long enough to find out what his favorite flower was as well. 

       With the pained sounds of your father in the background as the others threw hit after hit, the two boys at your side could only stare at each other with your limp body in between them, praying to whatever power was up there that they could get you back to the manor quickly enough. That their mistake wouldn’t have cost you your life. 

      “Where’s Y/N-ie? Where is she? There she is!” You erupted into contagious giggles as your father pried the peekaboo hands off your chubby face. 

       “I almost lost you! Where did you go?” An airplane in the form of a spoon piled high with mashed peas made its way to your mouth, your father making whooshing sounds as he expertly slotted it between your lips. You never liked peas, even as a toddler, face twisting sourly and spitting up the majority of the food you just had been fed. 

       He smiled at you fondly, caressing your palm-sized head in his hand. You smeared the spit up food over your bib and table, somehow managing to get it in your hair as well. A warm chuckle bubbled from his chest.

       “Come on, love. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

       You woke up on a cold bed with a sharp inhale, wanting to scream but somehow not able to make a sound. There were so many people. So many voices talking at once that it sounded like no one was talking at all. You tried your best to enhance your wavering focus. 

“Jungkook, grab the bandages.”

“She’s opening her eyes. Grab me another morphine syringe.”

“Y/N? You need to calm down. Everything is going to be alright.” 

       You couldn’t make out the other voices but the last one was familiar. It belonged to Jungkook, and you blindly reached a hand out for anyone that would be willing to hold it. He gripped back with a fervent intensity, squeezing your fingers as if to let you know:

       I’m right here. You’re safe with me. 

       You groaned at the searing pain in your stomach, and the thundering ache that throbbed in your head. It was as if you could feel every cut on your skin, every drop of blood that spilled, and every nerve cell that screamed in agitation. God, you hoped that the morphine someone was talking about would kick in soon. You opened your eyes wider at Jungkook’s face that had appeared above you, like an angel shrouded in white light, and exhaled at the sight. He looked so beautiful, you couldn’t imagine how beat up you looked right then. You were always damaged goods. Bruised and imperfect. You let yourself fade away once again. 

       “I don’t have time for you right now, Y/N. I’m busy.” Your younger self deflated at your father’s rejection, hanging your head in disappointment and trodding to the door of his office. You never objected or cried anymore in front of him. He always said how he hated it, and you wanted to do your best to not upset your father. 

       “Actually, Y/N?” You turned around as the smile grew on your cheeks, ready to excitedly tell him about your day and the test that you aced.

       “Make sure you rehearse your piano piece for tonight, it’s going to be televised. And tell the maid to set out your dress early. We don’t want to be late.” 

       Your father had spared you a tight-lipped smile and eye contact before he resumed his incessant typing on his computer, stressed-out expression permanently etched on his face. The hope that had sprouted in your chest withered away as soon as it came, and you could only nod back to him, not trusting your voice to respond without cracking. You couldn’t pinpoint when he had gotten so cold, but his old self would come back soon, you were sure of it. He would love you again like he did before and you all could be one big happy family. 

       You realized later that night, that perhaps the version of your father you were desperately hanging on had ceased to exist. You practiced your solo like he had said, perfecting each glissando and enunciating each arpeggio until your fingers ached. But there had been so many people and so many cameras. It was your father’s critical stare from across the concert hall that had caused your misstep, and the discordant notes as your hands tripped over themselves. 

      You were punished for it by the wrath of a folded up belt in the palm of his hand. He made you change from your concert gown into a thinner camisole, so that your skin could feel each thwack of leather. So that you could feel how angry he was at you through each strike. You wanted to tell him that you were sorry. That you loved him. You wanted to ask him why he was doing this when you already knew you messed up. But you wouldn’t cry and you wouldn’t object or scream. He always said how much he hated it. 

      “Hyung, she’s awake.” 

      Your eyes shot open, shaking in panic as you tried to adjust to the harsh fluorescent overhead and looked around the room. It hurt to breathe and to move. In fact, you couldn’t even do the latter. 

       “It’s okay. You’re safe.” Jin looked into your scared eyes and slipped his hand into yours, squeezing as tightly as he could to ground you from your oncoming panic attack. Your heartbeats slowed down as he continued to hush you and held onto your hand as if it was a lifeline. Or maybe that was you that was holding on so tightly, you couldn’t tell. 

       You were in a white room. Not the same one that they had thrown you in when you arrived the first time. Not as cold and bleak….and that of course had nothing to do with the boy that was besides you gripping your hand as if he was afraid you would disappear otherwise. There was a strong scent of antiseptic permeating through the air, so heavy you wanted to choke on it. You always hated it. It brought up too many memories you wished to forget. Your eyes darted across the space. 

      Hoseok had been sitting on the chair in the far corner, running a hand through his messy hair and looking like he hadn’t slept in a couple days. You were surprised he was even here to begin with. Last time you talked, he called you many not so nice things before they shipped you back to your father. Jin sighed sadly and your gaze met his again, clearly distressed and welling with unshed tears. 

      “Your windpipe was almost crushed. That’s probably why you have some trouble trying to talk, too.” The scene flashed through your eyes again. You were on the floor and he had been choking the life out of you. Before they came to save you. You passed out and now you were here. 

       “I expect you to make a full recovery, Y/N”, Jin smiled gently. He flipped through a patient clipboard, scribbling down notes you couldn’t see from where you were laying. You pushed through the pain to speak. 

       “Where’s my father?” You recoiled in shock at the sound of your own voice, reminiscent of someone who had been smoking since they came out of the womb. Hoseok eagerly stood up from his seat and handed you a glass of water, which you thankfully took and drained the entire thing. The boys seemed downtrodden after your question, glancing at each other and looking far too uncomfortable. 

       “I’ll let Namjoon explain later, love. You should rest now.” You tried to look away to hide your blush at the pet name he had unconsciously used. It was odd. They had been so cold when you came here the first time, and now he was calling you love and looking after you.

       Don’t get your hopes up Y/N, it’s just guilt. 

       Jin left the room after checking on the white bandages wrapped around your stomach, which you had completely forgotten was even injured among the chaos. You could already see the ugly scar that the bottle was going to leave behind, internally groaning at a new mark you could use to remember your father by. You shut your eyes to attempt to get some more sleep, but felt a presence in the room. You hadn’t noticed that Hoseok never left, and was still sitting there on a chair that did not look comfortable. He caught your gaze and blushed.

       “I’m uh….I’m staying here. Just to make sure you need anything.” If it weren’t for your messed up throat, you would have giggled at his stammering cuteness. The way he nervously played with his fingers and avoided eye contact with you. It was hard to believe this was the same man that wanted to kick you out of the house the second they brought you back. 

       It felt safe, though. To have him there, watching over you so that nothing bad would happen. Hoseok didn’t make any noise or attempt to start any conversation, even if you couldn’t say anything back to him. He just sat there with you, albeit too far away for your liking, watching over you like a guardian angel. It didn’t feel awkward. Just warm. But surely all of this was only temporary, because warm and comforting things never lasted for a person like you. Perhaps they had done nothing to your father. Perhaps he would come after you and Bangtan would be forced to let you go. 

       However, as you sat in the peaceful silence of each other’s presence, admiring Hoseok in the sunlight coming through the window, you would feel alright if this was only temporary. 

      It had felt like you were their prisoner again. Except the door wasn’t locked, it’s always wide open. Jin would periodically come and go to give you food and water and fresh clothes, and you were just there. Sitting passively and staring into space most of the time. The other boys hadn’t made any active attempt to talk to you, and you wondered if it was because of the overwhelming guilt or if it was just because they didn’t care. Even though there was a familiar poetry book on your meal tray yesterday, you couldn’t bring yourself to open and read. You wouldn’t allow yourself to indulge in such things, because the boys were not your friends. They would kick you out once you’ve healed. You wouldn’t let yourself get attached again. 

       Jin tried to hide his wince as he unraveled the bandages around your middle, eyeing the nasty wound and mutilated skin with guilt swimming in his eyes. Times like these, you just stayed quiet and looked away at the window, refusing to see the marks that your father has left on you. You didn’t notice the tears that made their way down your cheeks until you felt Jin’s soft hands wiping them away. 

       It was easy. Too easy to fall into his chest and sob a part of the pain out. As for the rest of it, you reckon it’ll stay with you for the rest of your life. It felt good, though. To have someone hold you with no questions asked and no hollow statements of sympathy. Jin had wrapped you in his arms so tightly and tucked your head under his chin, like a shield from the rest of the world that has tried to hurt you so many times. 

       “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” 

       You couldn’t count how many times he had repeated it to you. Nor had you noticed the quivering in each word as he whispered them in your ear. But you could feel their sincerity, through each breath and pause and the way his hands pressed you against the wide expanse of his chest. You couldn’t find it in yourself to tell him that it was okay, or that everything was forgiven, because that wouldn’t be true. Nothing was okay and the sky seemed to be falling. You didn’t know what your father would do now or what had happened after you passed out at the house. You didn’t know if Soyeon knew where you were or if she even noticed. You didn’t know where you would go after the dust settles down. But right then, at that moment, Jin had held you. And even if everything you were facing felt uncertain...

He hadn’t. 

       “Aren’t you gonna go in, Y/N?” Jungkook and Yoongi stood next to you, switching glances between your figure and the door of your assigned bedroom/ex-holding cell. You could only stare at the wood, tracing your eyes over and and the padlock that remained drilled on to the oak pane. Jungkook exhaled in realization, turning you gently by the shoulders to face him. 

       “You’re not our hostage anymore. I promise.” 

       You hesitantly looked up at him, nodding and turning back to the entrance. You weren’t their prisoner anymore. There was no need to worry. You took a deep breath in and turned the doorknob, swinging the door open and revealing the room exactly as you had remembered it. The bed was neatly made. There was a stack of clothes neatly piled on top of the mattress. And on the nightstand, a tall glass vase filled with pink and white peonies. Your favorite. 

       Yoongi noticed your gaze stuck on the flowers, and gingerly walked to your side. “Taehyung uhh...said they were your favorite. We thought you would like them.” 

       You remained quiet, only staring at the bouquet and running your fingers through a soft petal, so delicate you were scared it would fall into pieces at the slightest touch. 

       “I mean they’re stupid anyway. It was a stupid idea, I should have-” 

       “I love them. Thank you so much.” You cut off Yoongi’s rambling, looking back at both of the boys with a warm smile on your cheeks, skin gaining color again after the incident. You turned around to admire the flowers some more. 

       Jungkook fixed his gaze on Yoongi, noting the pink tint on his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He would have teased him for it had it not been for the same blush that was painted on his own. The boys looked at each other as you held a peony up to your nose, oblivious of the turmoil you had caused behind you with just a smile and a few words. If words could be communicated through a look shared between two smitten people, Jungkook and Yoongi’s conversation would have sounded something like:

       Oh fuck. We’re in trouble.

       “We’re needed in the meeting room, Y/N. Are you ready?” Jungkook coughed awkwardly as the comfortable silence was broken between the three of you. You looked at him confusedly.

       “Namjoon wants to update you. On everything.” Your eyes widened in realization. You set the single bloomed peony down on the nightstand, glancing back to the two boys who could sense your tension from across the room. 

       “What do you mean you left him there?” You practically yelled, your throat objecting to every strain and voice coming out raspy even after the days of recovery, which felt like years with the way all seven of the boys avoided answering any of your questions as if it was the plague. A plague called: Seokjin would have skinned them alive if they caused you more distress when you hadn’t mostly healed yet. 

      Namjoon sighed, disappointment at himself reflected in his gaze towards you from across the wide briefing table. Since you had been cleared to get out of bed, Bangtan had thought it proper to give you a seat at their meeting room, with your very own spinning chair. 

       “We couldn’t do anything after we beat him up. We put a tail on him, though, to track his every move. As much as we wanted to bring him back, your father is a powerful man, Y/N. We are too, but he’s a high government official.” You slumped in defeat, not as confident as you were before. You thought he was in custody somewhere, not still free to do whatever he wanted. He was still in a position to get you back, which would mean imminent death. Yoongi seemed to read your expression perfectly. 

       “Don’t worry, Y/N. We won’t let him have you again.” Again. That had been an awkward sore spot with you and the boys. You all had unspokenly decided to completely ignore it. How easily they had betrayed you and handed you over the first time, writing you off as an ignorant brat. Even after all your assurances that you were not angry at them, they were still convinced they needed to do more to redeem themselves. You smiled at Yoongi warmly, and he tried to quell the thudding heartbeat that annoyingly pounds at the mere sight of you. 

       “So what do we do now?” The boys made eye contact with each other at your question, seemingly as clueless as you were.

       “I strategize that we just wait. Our headquarters are stationed here, this is where we are safest and strongest. Let’s wait for his move and prepare ourselves as best we can.” Hoseok speaks up from two seats away from you.

       “But it’s your call Y/N. Whatever you think is best.” You nodded, staying quiet and looking at the mahogany table in front of you, analyzing your own reflection in the shiny and polished wood. 

       “I think”, you started, catching the attention of the crew as they awaited your executive decision. “We all need a very good night’s sleep. Don’t you?” You stood up from your chair slowly, body still sore and rickety. You reached out for Jimin to help you waddle to your room, which he gladly obliged. 

       “Come on, boys, I can practically see you dozing off in your chairs.” 

      Maybe it was the way you laughed when you said it, looking back at them with expectant eyes and a kind smile on your lips. The way they had someone to care for them in such a mundane way as wanting to make sure they got enough sleep. The sound of your voice fluttering around the cold house that felt cozier with just the power of your presence. The feeling of having someone to protect. As they stared at you, damaged and hurt as you were, something collectively bloomed in their chests. With just a glance towards one another, the seven of them knew. They would keep you safe. For as long as you would let them. 

       “Are you sure you don’t need anything else, Y/N?” Jimin fussed over you smotheringly, tucking and retucking the thick blanket around your frail figure as if one loose thread in the fabric would put you at risk. You rolled your eyes affectionately. 

       “Jimin. You’re going to give yourself a hernia if you keep this up. I’m fine. See?”

       Yes, he had seen. You were still bandaged across your waist, the wounds from the glass bottle taking exceptionally long to heal, even after the stitches. You hadn’t needed stitches on your temple, just an obnoxious bandage. The neck cast had come off, but Jimin could still see the rings of purple and black bruises that lined your skin, stoking the fire of his anger each time he caught sight of it and remembered the scene of your father’s hands squeezing the life out of you. 

       “Don’t look at me like that, Jimin. It’s just a little injury. I’ll be back to shape in no time.” You grinned cheekily, shooing his hands away from trying to fluff up your pillow that in no way needed any more fluffing. 

       He was confused at that. How you pretended to be fine even after everything. They could all see the pain in your eyes and hear it in your words each time you talked about your family. 

       “Okay, fine. Just yell if you need anything.” You nodded.

       “Wait don’t yell, your vocal chords are still healing, just knock on the wall very obnoxiously.” You nodded again.

       “Wait don’t knock you could hurt yourself, just-”

       “Jimin.”

       “Yeah, okay, goodnight Y/N.” He let himself out the door, glancing back at you one last time with something fond in his eyes. He left the door ajar by a centimeter, so that a little light could flood in through the crack. You had expected the familiar clicking sound of a lock to keep you from escaping. But there was none. No lock and no keys assigned to each boy to open your bedroom. You drifted off to sleep with the help of Jin’s prescribed pain medicine. You thought of Soyeon. Your mother. Your father. And the face of seven boys who you had grown unreasonably close to in the short amount of time. 

       Namjoon had been treading sleepily to his bedroom when he had heard you. At first, he shrugged it off, thinking it was just the house settling or a distant breeze. But as he approached closer to your door, he could hear it more clearly. Your distressed whimpers and slurred mumbles. Namjoon quietly opened the door and peeked inside.

       You were tossing and turning on the bed, hands fisting the sheets so tightly your knuckles turned white. Your expression was pained, eyebrows scrunching in discomfort as you dreamed. Namjoon’s heart twisted in his chest. He hadn’t even thought of the fact that you would get bad nightmares, and how they must be even heightened after this. You had seemed strangely fine after they brought you back to their home, never showing more weakness than you had to. You hadn’t even mentioned the injuries. Now you were probably reliving everything while you were supposed to be peacefully sleeping.

       Namjoon leaned down over you, careful not to invade your space. “Y/N, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” You hadn’t budged, still drifting off in your unpleasant dream. 

       “Y/N?” You had stilled, expression still creased in a frown but no longer rustling. He hadn’t noticed that your hand was gripping tightly onto his until he moved to walk away. For a moment, he thought you had woken up, but the even rise and fall of your chest and light snores that escaped your lips indicated you were still deep in sleep. He sighed, opting to sit down on the rug besides your bed, still keeping your hand encased in his own. 

       It was comforting. To feel the warmth of your skin. To run his thumb over your pulsepoint and feel the rhythmic beating. To hear each breath as it made its way through your chest. Namjoon felt his eyelids getting heavier and heavier by the second. He hadn’t even noticed himself falling asleep, only focused on the weight of your hand in his.

       You woke up feeling still as tired as you were when you went to bed. Your skin was sticky with sweat, uncomfortably rubbing against you and making you far too hot. You flicked the thick blanket Jimin had insisted on trapping you under and relished in the cold air that rushed in to lick at your skin. A snoring sound reverberated impossibly loud in the once quiet room. You froze with fear, snapping your head so quickly to the source of the sound you were surprised you didn’t get whiplash.

       It was Namjoon. Curled up in the fetal position on your rug with a decorative couch pillow under his head, snoring away without a care in the world. The sight made you coo, heart melting at the sight of a grown man sleeping so innocently. He was always so focused on his work. So caught up in the stress of running his gang. You wondered how often he actually got good sleep. It was as if he could feel your stare, and opened his eyes to meet your’s.

       “What are you doing down there, Namjoon?” 

       Wow, he could get used to the sight of you after he woke up every morning, bedhead and all. Even if his view was from an uncomfortable floor. Namjoon coughed in embarrassment, promptly standing up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

       “You, uh...You had a nightmare last night. I came to check on you and then you wouldn’t let go of my hand.” You blushed meekly at his words, a smile growing on your lips as you looked at him fondly. 

       “So, you stayed with me?” You gazed up at Namjoon in wonder, heart threatening to burst at his unexpected act of care towards you. He nodded shyly, scratching the back of his neck as he always does when he’s nervous and awkward. You could feel your eyes tearing up again, wanting to laugh at yourself for being so pathetic and crying over the smallest things. But he had been so ready to stay by your side, even when you were asleep and out of it. You couldn’t remember a time when someone cared enough to do that for you. 

       You stood up out of bed and stood in front of Namjoon. His mouth slightly dropped in shock as he felt your arms weakly wrap around his shoulders, his arms still hanging by his side. 

       “Thank you.” 

       He felt your breath fan over his ear, so soft and delicate. You sniffled, trying to hide your tears from him. Namjoon held you closer to him, pressing you against his chest with the least amount of pressure so as to not aggravate your injury any more. You had felt so small and snug in his arms, he wanted you to stay there forever. He felt a single tear drop drip onto his clothed shoulder, seeping through the fabric of his shirt, and he held you even closer. 

       The door to your room opened with a smack, revealing a huffing Hoseok, and the two of you jumped away from each other, respectively blushes dusting your cheeks and putting on an inconspicuous facade. Hoseok graciously decided to ignore what he had seen. He would tease Namjoon for it later, there was  something more pressing at hand. 

       “What’s wrong?” Namjoon waited for Hoseok to catch his breath, but noted the ways his eyes flickered worriedly to you and the sounds of his men clambering downstairs. Your heart thudded in anticipation at the solemn look Hoseok had on his face, suddenly wanting to empty the contents of your stomach and faint all in one go. You had a feeling you knew what his next words were going to be about.

       “It’s your father Y/N. He’s on his way here.” 

Taglist: @pinkyhim​, @deolly​ , @drunkzseok​, @hope122598​, @uwunamjoon​, @nomimits7​, @bubblebunnylia​, @aquaalanah, @juliie-ocha, @daydreambrliever​, @btsbabby​, @blank-et-noir, @myheartstaysinkorea, @rosiethefairy​, @tiredjedi, @lovemyself-persona​, @jeoncookie-bts​, @annoyingpessimist​, @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh , @btstxtgenre​, @taesugaar​, @hxsxxk-180294​, @bubbletae7​, @uglyratlmao​, @hopetookmysoul​, @supertweetycherry​, @loveyoongles​

#bts mafia au #bts gang au #poly bts #poly bts x reader #ot7 x reader #ot7 #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts writing #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #jhope x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook #bts series #bts imagine

[seasonsofeverlark]

The Shivering Days

Author: @rosegardeninwinter​​

Prompt: Lost in the woods with you. Cool air, leaves starting to fall, a little blanket of snow. You make a shelter, cuddle inside to keep warmth as it’s cooler now … enjoying it so much you don’t want to be found … because I’ve got my love to keep me warm. [submitted by @katnissandpeeta125​] 

Rating: G 

Author’s Note: Thank you to my sweet sister Bethy (she doesn’t have a Tumblr) for doing a once over on this, as she’d much rather be watching historical documentaries. I took a little liberty with this prompt, and it’s a tad more angsty than I thought it was going to be. This story piggybacks off of this drabble, where Katniss and Peeta resolve some of their post-Game differences pre-Tour. You don’t need to have read it to understand this, but all the same. Enjoy! 

___________

“Thank you, by the way,” I say. “I didn’t know how you’d feel about the woods.”

Peeta shrugs and buries his hands deeper in the pockets of his coat. “It’s fine,” he says. “It’s prettier here.”

Prettier than the arena, he means. It is that. We’re in what my father would call “the shivering days” where everything seems to flicker and waver and change more than usual. The sunlight, peeking out from a cloud bank for a heartbeat, then gone again. The leaves, quaking and trembling in the breeze, rustling like gossip. People, teeth chattering, hands fidgeting for warmth, always moving. 

But for some reason, he liked these days, my father. I can remember him standing almost exactly how Peeta does now, breath a cloud on the air, turning a slow circle to take everything in. The leaves overhead are a purple kind of red — a rich, decadent kind of color I’m sure they’d love to replicate in the Capitol, but never could. There’s a light snowfall, not more than a wisp here and there, but enough to remind us that November is nearing. Two months until the tour — and two weeks since I found Peeta on the floor of his bedroom, disoriented by phantom pains in his lost leg. I stayed with him until morning, both of us getting cramped sitting against the side of his bed, and he’d wheedled me to stay for breakfast, as a thank you. We ate toast and milk in the awkward tension of estranged friends, but it became harder, after that, to avoid each other’s gazes when we met in town. 

“Can we talk?” he asked on Wednesday, catching me on the way home to get thread for my mother. “Not for long. If you don’t want. But I need to say something to you.” 

Flicker. Waver. Change. 

“Okay,” I said. “But not here.” 

Even now, I’m surprised he made the trek out here with me. Maybe I shouldn’t be. I know I shouldn’t be. A handful of poison berries says he’d follow me into the grave if I asked. Guilt squeezes around my lungs like a vice and I cough, pulling Peeta from his reverie. 

“You alright?”

“Just cold. Here, let’s go down further. There’s a place we can sit. Out of the wind.” 

Peeta smiles, a small smile, but it sends a hundred confused emotions rushing through me like a sip of strong tin can coffee. “I don’t know how you don’t get lost out here.”

“My father knew these woods like he had a map on the back of his hand.” I pull my fingerless glove loose and hold my hand up to Peeta. “We had the same hands, he and I.” 

His hand comes up to brace mine, like an old superstitious Seam Granny doing a palm reading. Two weeks ago, I would have drawn away sharply, but I don’t. “So the veins are rivers,” Peeta says with a playful note to his tone I don’t think I’ve heard since the cave. “And the knuckles are hills?” 

“Something like that,” I say, feeling the back of my neck prickle with a blush. Peeta lets my hand go. I slip my glove back on. “It’s only a short way,” I say, and dart a few paces ahead of him, trying to parse out my thoughts as I lead us to the little dry gully that will protect us from the wind — and from any surveillance. 

What are we doing? No. Forget that: what are we? I was willing to lay down my life, my dignity, almost anything, to keep Peeta alive in the arena, but hurt feelings and miscommunication have us feeling like broken-hearted teenagers after a date to the Harvest Festival gone amiss, rather than allies who survived a deadly game together. 

I pause at the top of the gully. It’s deeper than I remember. I turn to Peeta. “You might … do you want a hand down?” 

He’d be well within his rights to scowl at me over the implication that his prosthesis leaves him any less capable — but he doesn’t. He nods and accepts my hand. I steady him as best I can with my slight frame, remembering another time not unlike this when I helped him drag himself to our cave. But right as we’re reaching the bottom of the slope, my foot catches on a branch and I go down, taking him with me. I yelp as I roll head over feet into a pile of yellow leaves at the bottom of the gully, and Peeta lands directly on top of me, half squashing the air out of me. 

“Off!” I squeak, batting at his shoulders with my hands until I realize that his back is shaking. On instinct, my hands stop their assault and fretfully hover around his hair. Is he crying? 

“Peeta,” I fuss. “I’m sorry. Are you alright? Is it your leg?” 

He lifts his head from where it’s pillowed on my ribs, and I see that his eyes are teary, but with laughter. 

“It’s not funny,” I protest, even as my own laugh escapes me. “We could have been hurt!” 

“Oh, I’m fairly sure we’d have survived,” he jokes darkly. “Given our track record.”

“Peeta,” I say. The snow that was coming in starts and stops is picking up now, soft flurries coming down on Peeta’s hair. I don’t try to push him away anymore. The warmth of his body against mine is such a nice feeling, I push all the past months’ frustrations to the side. 

“Sorry. I know that wasn’t funny.” 

I shake my head. “That’s not what I was saying.” I take a deep breath. “What … what I said on the train … I never meant to hurt you.” 

“No, Katniss. You shouldn’t be apologizing to me.” 

“But I should.”

“No, you shouldn’t. You were doing what it took to survive. To help us both survive. It wasn’t fair of me to hold you to anything you said in the Games.” 

“I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you.” 

“Katniss,” he says, “I know. I know you care. I haven’t known you for very long, all things considered, but I get the feeling that Katniss Everdeen isn’t the type of person to sacrifice her life for someone if she didn’t care about them … at least a little bit.” 

“Only a very little bit,” I say softly. His eyes are bright robin’s egg blue against the autumn tones of the world around us. 

“Well then.” He sighs. “Can we be friends, Katniss?” 

Flicker. Waver. Change. 

“Friends.” It’s a weighty answer. I’ve never been very good at friends, and after what Haymitch warned me about before our interviews … being my friend is like painting a target on your back. But refusing Peeta won’t keep him any safer. We’re in the same cart, he and I. We held out those berries together, didn’t we? And it’s like he said. I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t care. Besides, he’s the only person in all Panem who understands what we went through. He was there. He helped me through it, held me through it. I’m not sure friends is even enough for what we are to each other, what we ought to be, after all that … but friends is a start. 

“Friends,” I repeat, an affirmative. “Yes.” 

Peeta nods, looking relieved. I feel the same, like a great burden has been lifted from me. Which is a little ironic given that I’m still pinned beneath Peeta’s—my friend’s—body. But I don’t try to move. Not even when he leans down and presses his forehead to mine. I welcome the contact. It’s soothing, steady. 

He rolls away at last, helping me sit up. We’re both damp now, and our clothes are covered in twigs and leaves. 

“We have to climb back up,” I lament. But I’m not dreading it. I have my ally back. I’m not alone. 

“No,” he says, offering me his hand and pulling me to sit beside him on a fallen log. “Let’s stay a while. It’s quiet here.” 

Quiet. He understands what a luxury that is too. My mind hasn’t been quiet since we came back. I crane my head back to look up at the trees. Red and orange against gray. Like fire against steel and glass buildings. I shudder.

“You cold?” 

“Something like.” 

“I get it.” 

His arm goes around me and I sink into the half embrace gladly. Our shoulders press, our hips, our legs. I feel the anxiety in my body melt at the contact points, and I nestle closer to him. He smells of whatever he must have been baking before he met me: spices and sugars and … Peeta. Homey and comforting and good. He points to the foliage above. 

“It’s my favorite color. Orange.” 

My heart skips. Leave it to Peeta to distract me with something so ordinary as a favorite color. I glance back up where he points, and I don’t see fire in the vibrant hues. I see —

“Like a sunset,” he says. 

“A sunset,” I echo. 

“Yeah.” He bumps my side with his, playful. “Alright, friend. I’ve told you my favorite color. What’s yours?”

I smile. 

Flicker. Waver. Change.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #autumn #autumn 2020 #rosegardeninwinter #submission #prompt

[chews-erotically]

Waxing Gibbous 

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

       * Warnings: Angst/ violence/ mention of blood/ SMUT/ PIV, fingering/ public sex/ slight exhibitionism

      * Summary: Ezra confronts his fears. A night out on Central does not go as planned.

      * Word Count: ~2600

*Part ONE* *Part TWO* *Part THREE* *Part FOUR* *Part FIVE*  *Part SIX*        *Part SEVEN*  *Part EIGHT*  *Part NINE*  *Part TEN*

PART ELEVEN

    You learned quickly that when Ezra told you he was going to try, he tried. The very next day, he asked you to take him down to the lobby. You’d attempted to protest, but a facet of his personality you were getting more acquainted with over time was the man’s stubbornness. 

    “Mama always told me I was more stubborn than a mule stuck in a mud puddle,” he’d rambled to you once.

    On this day, he said, “You know there’s no other way for me to do this except to get it done, Dove.”

    You moved to stand in front of him. You crossed your arms, head tilted to one side as you surveyed him before you. He looked determined, jaw working rhythmically. His hands hung loosely at his sides, but you noticed how he was clenching and unclenching his fists restlessly.

    “Ezra“, I don’t expect you to just waltz out of the apartment and seize the city like a lump of aurelac,” you reasoned. “I want to do this on your terms, and I don’t want you to feel in any way pressured. I feel like you think I’m expecting you to do this.”

    “Dove, you know that as decisive as I may be, one thing I am not is easily swayed or pressured. Trust that I feel no such thing from you, as it is my choice alone to foray out of this nest.”

    So, you had accompanied him cautiously onto the elevator, carefully watching and gauging his reactions to being confined within the claustrophobic reaches of the metal box you found yourselves encased in, ferrying you downward. Ezra’s tongue darted out to wet his lip nervously, you noticed his foot tapping against the carpet. You wondered if he noticed he was doing it.

    When the elevator reached its destination with a faint ping, you steeled yourself. You were ready for his impending meltdown, his shaking uncertainty, possibly his refusal to walk any further. Your eyes widened as you watched him stride determinedly out into the lobby. You trailed close behind, ready to reel him back in if he became overwhelmed. You thought that he’d pause a moment, reacquaint himself with the lobby itself before venturing further, but he strode bullishly toward where Brice was standing near the front doorway.

    “If you’ll excuse me, my good man,” Ezra muttered through the grim set of his mouth. He did not pause, he did not hesitate. He gave Brice no opportunity to hold the door open for him. He grasped the handle himself and thrust himself out onto a bustling street.

    You were right behind him, your brows drawn with concern. You reached out to grasp his hand.

   “Ezra?”

    His shoulders squared, he turned to face you. He was breathing heavily, his eyes moving in disjointed stutters as if he was trying to download and process everything at once to a file in his brain.

    “Ezra, take a deep breath.”

    His eyes finally settled on you, dark pools of intensity. He did as you asked. His shoulders dropped to their natural position. Your other hand joined your first, clasping his large hands in yours. People continued past you on their way to their lovers and jobs and homes and they parted like a sea around the both of you as his gaze held you, hypnotic and deep. His hands pulled from your grasp and he crushed himself to you, his mouth finding yours in a dizzying kiss. Breathless, desperate, the rest of the world disappeared.

    “I did it, sweet love,” he whispered against your mouth. You did not heed the noise and push of the city thrumming around you, the entire street ceased and froze as if the universe was swallowing its own stars and they reappeared, rebirthed and glittering, in the encompassing weight of Ezra’s eyes upon you.

    “All manner of things in this world are limitless and surmountable, survivable, when I have you by my side.”

 ******

     One week later you found yourself in a dive bar that ended up being approximately twenty minutes from your loft. You had worked incrementally each day, walking with Ezra as he ventured further and then a bit further. You saw his confidence begin to return. You had sat one morning at a small table on the sidewalk of a cafe, reading Keats to one another as you sipped cappuccino. Ezra made sly remarks about the goings-on of passing strangers, weaving threads of supposition according to what he thought of what they wore, how quickly they were walking, who they were with. His eyes were lively. He reminded you of the person he’d been at his table in his tent on the Green: head thrown back, joyous.

    You were finally knowing him like this.

    And so, you sat in the crowded bar, smelling the cologne and sweat and smoke enveloping you and those around you. You had felt nervous entering, a sudden impulse to look for the nearest exit slammed into you. A patron sidled past you, bumping your shoulder. You jumped, your heart hammering. You tried desperately to quell what seemed to be an oncoming panic attack- there were too many people, it was so, so loud and anyone could just reach out and grab you, slam you into-

    “Dovie.”

    Your frenzied reverie was interrupted by Ezra’s warm hand on the small of your back as he guided you to a table in a corner. His breath tickled the hair that curled around your ear as he spoke close and low.

    “Sit here, see? Your back will be against the wall. You can see everyone this way. You are safe with me, sweet one.”

    With his voice close, grounding you, you took deep unsteady breaths until you felt your heart rate begin to slow. You reassured him as the bartender approached you. You decided that alcohol may not be a bad idea, for either of you, in helping you relax. You ordered a gin and tonic with lime, Ezra requested an extra dirty vodka martini. While you waited for your drinks you took in the humid press of bodies gyrating on a makeshift dance floor, you absorbed the loose, languid movements of the inebriated patrons before you. Could you do such a thing, would you ever be capable of such abandon again in a place like this?

    Your drinks were set in front of you. Ezra reached for his and took a long sip, his eyes closing with a soft groan.

    “I cannot begin to tell you how long it’s been since I’ve imbibed such high-brow spirits in what amounts to a dusty hovel.”

    You sipped your own drink, the burn sliding down your throat blooming into warmth when it hit your belly. Your brain quickly began to feel fuzzy, your limbs loose and warm. It had been stands since you’d had anything stronger than wine. You set your glass down and turned to see Ezra staring at you, his own cheeks pinking from the effects of his drink. He leaned his head to the side, one hand reaching for your bare knee, at the same time the sudden crack of a pool cue across the room made you jump, an arm shooting out in unconscious self-defense as your hand connected with your glass. Ezra’s own hand reflexively moved to catch the glass before it could topple and shatter, but not before the contents sloshed over the edge to soak down the front of your new dress.

    “Kevva-damned. Shit….This is the first time I’ve even worn this!”

    Ezra was unperturbed, smiling gently as he squeezed your knee.

    “I’m sure it will come out in the wash, love, I’ll leave you only briefly to procure you proper cleaning implements. Do not trouble yourself.”

    You sighed, nodding gratefully. You watched as Ezra stood up and made his way to the bar. It was crowded indeed tonight, and you noted that there were quite a few people in line ahead of him. You sighed again, looking down at your front. You wrinkled your nose; you smelled like a distillery.

    Klutz.

    Lost in your thoughts, it took you a moment in your blunted state to notice that another drink was slid in front of you as the chair beside you scraped back from the table. A man sat down next to you, grinning crookedly. He leaned forward before speaking.

    “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before. Sorry about the drink, I thought maybe you could use a replacement.”

    His hair was flame-colored, unnaturally so. His nose, eyebrows and ears were heavily pierced, and his arms were covered in tattoos. In another lifetime, perhaps, you may have welcomed his advances. Tonight, however, you glanced around frantically for Ezra. You felt suddenly exposed, like a lame rabbit trapped in a dog pen.

    “I…..I’m not alone, you know. I’m here with someone. So, no thank you. On the drink.”

    The man’s brows shot up in surprise. “Oh! I didn’t mean….sorry. I saw you spill your drink, and then I saw your friend get up...I was getting my own drink, I figured you could use another one as well.”

    You swallowed down your panic, your hand twitching in your lap.

    If only I had a thrower.

    “You were watching me?”

    “Relax. I was just trying to be nice!”

    “What did you put in this drink, anyway? Sedative? Some kind of amatory agent?”

    “I don’t know what you-”

    The man choked on the rest of his words as he was yanked out of the chair roughly by the back of his shirt. He was slammed up against the wall, Ezra’s fingers wrapped around the man’s throat.

    “I do believe the lady would like to be left alone,” he hissed darkly, jaw clenched. His head was lowered, eyes blackened pools of rage. His voice wavered on a razor-thin edge of control. The interloping man’s eyes were wide, it appeared that he was gasping for breath as Ezra’s knuckles turned white. You noticed the knife in Ezra’s hand. You had the far away realization that he must have been keeping it in his boot, the same way he had on the Green.

     He had carried it all this time.

    Ezra brought the tip of his knife to a slot of pulsing skin between his fingertips. The blade pressed in, a bead of blood pricking forth as the man gasped. A dark spot spread on the front of the man’s pants.

    “Do you know how quickly a man bleeds out if cut in just the right way? I do, I know from experience. Do you also know how to make things last, how to prolong one’s mortal agony until they plead for the sweet embrace of oblivion? I know that too.” 

    You were monsters, you realized with a sudden, shocking clarity. You were not fit for civilization. Ezra was a hair's-breadth from murdering a stranger in a public place while you watched impassively. This is who you have become. This is what the moon had done to you.

    Without thinking, you jumped up from the table. Your hand grasped Ezra’s shoulder.

    “EZRA.” your voice was clear, sobered, authoritative. “Stop. Come back.”

    Ezra almost shook his head as he looked at his hand, holding the knife as if it belonged to someone else. He let the man go, and the man slid down the wall to crumple onto the ground.

You realized it was silent- everyone in the bar was staring.

    You grabbed onto his hand in a vise-like grip and moved to the door.

    “We’re leaving. NOW.”

    There was a sea of shocked silence that parted around you. You did not hesitate, you did not stop to take in the widened eyes, the slack jaws. You walked until you were both out in the cool air of the warm night.

    You kept your eyes forward with a tight grip on Ezra’s hand.

    Get away, you repeated in your mind like a mantra. Get away, get away, get away…

    You squeaked out a wordless exclamation when Ezra halted, pulling you backward into a narrow side alley. He spun you to face the cool brick wall, caging you with his hands and hips. He pressed up against you insistently, panting as if he’d been sprinting.

    “Ez-” your words were cut off as his lips crushed onto yours, rough and messy. His hands grasped at the hem of your dress, raking it up around your waist. He ripped your underwear down past the curve of your ass with trembling fingers. You gasped when his fingers entered you, rough and sudden.

    “Ezra, we’re in an alley, someone could walk byyyy…” your last words dissolved in a whine as he angled his fingers, expertly curled, and hit that spot inside- the place he knew you needed him most.

    Hot plosives of air against your ear, you felt fully enveloped by Ezra and completely exposed to everything else. He withdrew his fingers suddenly and frantically went to unfasten his pants.

    “I need you,” he rasped, his voice desperate and shuddering. “I need to come back to myself. Remind myself. Please. I need to know you are mine. Show me.”

    You felt the blunt head of him notched at your entrance. Grasping his cock in his fist, he spread your leaking arousal to mix with the precum dripping from his own slit before sliding into you with a single thrust. His hips met yours as you brought your fist to your mouth, biting down to keep from screaming. Ezra withdrew almost completely, still trembling, and slammed back into you. Your breasts were mashed against the rough wall, you had to use both hands to brace yourself against the onslaught of his thrusts. One of his hands went up to your mouth and covered it firmly; his other hand reached between your legs to circle your clit roughly.

    He fucked up into you with abandon, without regard for his surroundings and despite the possibility of being caught. He kept his voice low, gasping and whining as his punishing rhythm had you quickly hurtling toward your own release.

    “Mine….mine,” he groaned into your ear, slapping sounds from your desperate union echoing in the air of the alleyway. “Going to fuck you like this in every corner of Central, on every surface. Claim this pussy over and over again. Take you apart.”

    His words against your sweat-slicked skin, his hot breath, his fingers on your clit, his brutal thrusts all melded into the sin of him taking your like this, claiming you in the open. You release slammed into you, unexpected, overwhelming. You bit the inside of his hand, breaths harsh, ragged, keening. You sobbed wordlessly against him as he stilled, spilling into you as he cried out. The intensity and strength of his orgasm had rendered him incapable of remaining quiet. Your legs shook, Ezra’s arms wrapping firmly around your waist to keep you from collapsing to the dirty concrete.

    When your hammering heart had finally slowed and your breathing finally evened out, Ezra reverently helped you back to some semblance of presentability before you made your way back to your apartment, still shaky and somewhat lightheaded.

    Once back in the safety of your shared home you sighed deeply before wrapping your arms around Ezra’s waist. You knew you both had quite a bit more to work through than you’d originally thought, but Kevva knew there was no one else for you. You gazed up at him with a small, sad smile.

    “We can’t go back to that bar, Ezra.”

    “I know, Dove.”

Tags: @ifimayhaveaword @thedaysarenotfull @absurdthirst@cinewhore @hopelikethesun @yespolkadotkitty @lose-eels @lackofhonor @din-damn-djarin @mrpascals@theocatkov @thefineandnobleartofavoidance@hellojustheretolookatmeemees @cyaredindjarin @im-like-reallythirsty @mstgsmy @goldafterglow @sistahsarah-sallysaidso @givemethatgold @shaqbutt @sirianisrock@artemiseamoon @thatreclusewriter, @scribbledghost@f0rever15elf @opheliaelysia @qveenbvtch@hdlynnslibrary @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa@spacegayofficial @ezraslittlebirdie @ezrasarm@ezraslittleblondestreak @tintinwrites@kindablackenedsuperhero @darthadeline @alexisinorbit@knittingqueen13 @lueurnotes @xakilicious@keeper0fthestars @huliabitch @di-kut @zombieaurora@corrupt-fvcker @cryptkeepersoul @teaofpeach

#chews-erotically #chews-erotically writes #ezra prospect #Ezra #Ezra x reader

[seoulsides]

satisfaction brought it back (m)

⇒ asmodeus x fem!mc/reader

⇒ 1.9k+

⇒ warnings: nsfw, 18+ content, explicit sexual content, slight BDSM, dom/sub themes, dirty talk, edgeplay, degradation, spanking, pussy whipping, choking, hair-pulling, creampie, come inflation, cock warming 

⇒ additional tags: established relationship, asmodeus has a tail, dom!asmodeus, sub!reader

⇒ summary: “Hm? You really need to speak up, sweetheart~” Asmodeus’ honeyed voice gently chides you, a small laugh bubbling from his throat, “Good girls know better than to mumble, after all…”

He trails off into silence and before you can utter a word, your head is roughly yanked back off the pillow, throat bared and back arched as a perfectly manicured hand tugs on your scalp, making you yelp, “You’re my good girl, right?”

or

curiosity killed the cat... and satisfaction brought it back. when you ask asmodeus how he uses his tail, things take an unexpected albeit not unwelcome turn.

⇒ a/n: i had to write this because i firmly believe that we were ROBBED of getting asmodeus with a tail (and YES it has a heart-shaped tip). please let me know what you guys think because this is my first proper attempt at smut and i would really like to improve as much as i can. tagging @asmodeusbby​ as per request uwu

“What was that, baby?”

The soft croon is almost drowned out by your heavy pants and the loud slick sounds of flesh slapping together echoing throughout the room. You were truly a sight; cheeks flushed with mussed hair and bitten lips, barely able to hold your trembling form on your hands and knees as your demon boyfriend fucked you into the satin sheets of his mattress.

To think this had all started with an innocent question about his tail. You both had been in his room, chatting idly as you tried some new Majolish products Asmodeus had ordered for the both of you. He had bought himself an expensive moisturising balm for his wings, explaining how important it was to regularly care for them especially since he used them to fly while in his demon form, even turning into his demon form to demonstrate the use of the product. Ever the curious human, you had asked him about how he used his tail, eyes glued to the long appendage with unabashed interest. It resembled a scorpion’s tail, although much longer and narrower. Despite looking hard, especially with the textured ridges, it was softer to touch and a lot more flexible than it seemed, evident from the way it curled around his frame. Perhaps, the most striking thing about his tail was that there was a soft heart-shaped stinger that seemed to develop a hardened shell exterior whenever Asmodeus got angry whilst in his demon form — something you only witnessed whenever Mammon seemed to cross a line with the Avatar of Lust. When he noticed the shameless attention on him, Asmodeus smirked at you, flicking his ridged tail with interest, “How about a live demonstration, hm?”

And that is how you ended up, sprawled across your boyfriend’s bed, the aforementioned appendage in question coiled firmly around your waist, pulling your shuddering form onto his throbbing cock, as the heart-shaped tapered head dipped in between your legs, furiously rubbing your clit. You had been torturously edged for the last half an hour, torn away from the sweet precipice of release three times, leaving you a trembling, teary-eyed, sensitive mess. 

You are pulled out of your reverie, a violent shiver skirting down your spine as you felt the sting of sharp nails digging into your hips, followed by a brutal thrust. Another moan rips from your throat and you fist the satin sheets as the coil in your belly tightens and the pleasure starts to climb higher and higher. Just as you think you will finally be granted the relief of release, it is ripped from your greedy hands when Asmodeus’ ministrations come to a complete halt, and you let out a cry of protest. 

“A-Asmo,” you let out a broken whimper, eyes watering with unshed tears of sensitivity and desperation, “Please!” The demon behind you chuckles leisurely as he resumes rolling his hips into yours at a languid pace, “Please, what?” he ponders coyly, a devilish grin dancing on his lips. Just as you try to answer, he rears back and gives a harsh thrust that makes you arms give out beneath you, your face slamming into a pillow, managing to muffle the cry that rips from your throat, “Nnghh!”

“Hm? You really need to speak up, sweetheart~” Asmodeus’ honeyed voice gently chides you, a small laugh bubbling from his throat, “Good girls know better than to mumble, after all…”

He trails off into silence and before you can utter a word, your head is roughly yanked back off the pillow, throat bared and back arched as a perfectly manicured hand tugs on your scalp, making you yelp, “You’re my good girl, right?”

With a firm grip in your hair, he has the perfect leverage to roughly jackhammer into you and the stinger returns to your swollen clit, rubbing your sensitive nub unforgivingly. You let out a loud keen, tears of sensitivity clinging to your lashes. The new angle allows him to thrust even deeper and you practically feel his cock in your throat. Your mouth lolls open, drool dribbling from the corner of your lips as your whiny pants grow louder with the increasing intensity of his thrusts. 

A loud smack reverberates throughout the entire bedroom and you let out a strangled cry as you jolt forward from the blow, your scalp stinging from jerking your head at the sudden sensation. Your ass cheek throbs after smarting a swatting, and you shiver when a hand comes down to pat your sore flesh soothingly. The pain and pleasure intermingle deliciously and you feel your head spin from the intensity of it. 

“I asked you a question, baby,” Asmodeus tuts, clicking his tongue, giving the reddening flesh another soft pat. Before you even register his hand leaving your flesh, another harsh swat comes down on your other ass cheek and you let out another yelp. He gently kneads the flesh, shushing your cries. 

“Yes,” you sob, “Yes, yes, yes!”

“Yes, what?” he taunts you, once again slowing down to a languorous pace, pulling out almost all the way and to give drawn-out shallow thrusts, while his tail loosens its grip from your form and pulls away, prompting you to let out a cry of protest. 

“Yes, I’m your good girl!” you mewl lewdly, fighting the urge to ground your hips back to get back some of the mouth-watering friction, letting out desperate pants while wanting nothing more than to build up the pace your sadistic boyfriend had abandoned. 

“I’m good, so so good,” you slurred, eyes burning with tears, “So good, just for you!”

Asmodeus lets out a delighted giggle, raising his free hand and trailing his index finger from the nape of your neck to the base of your spine, your skin breaking into gooseflesh as you panted, “And such a well-behaved girl knows how to ask kindly for what she wants, right?”

“Please, please!” you hiccup, thighs beginning to shake from the effort of holding you weak form up.  

“Please what, sweetheart?” Asmodeus airily hums, hand coming down to pat your rump, “Come on, darling, use your big girl words~” 

“Please let me cum” you sob, “Asmo, sir, please, please let me cum, please!”

“That’s my good little slut,” Asmodeus croons darkly, voice dripping with satisfaction. Immediately, his tail wraps around your throat, lightly pressing down on your jugular and restricting your airflow, while the familiar heart-shaped tip dips down between your legs, rubbing teasingly against your arousal-slickened inner thighs. You let out a choked gasp, breath hitching as you start to feel slightly lightheaded. With no warning, he slams himself all the way in, every ridge of his thick engorged cock rubbing against your sensitive walls, heavy balls smacking lewdly against your swollen pussy lips and you gurgle, drool dribbling out of your mouth from feeling so fucking full.

Asmodeus giggles at the fucked-out look on your face, simpering while he continues to violently batter his cock into your aching pussy, “And such good sluts get rewarded.” 

Thwap!

The very moment the words leave his lips, the heart-shaped tip strikes down viciously on your clit, a loud slick smacking noise resounding throughout the room and you let a loud choked cry rip from your throat, hot tears stinging your eyes. You barely have time to recover before another harsh strike lands on your engorged clit, followed by a ferocious thrust, and then another hit. 

Thwap! Thwap!

“Cum, my sweet little petal,” he growls, tugging hard on your scalp, tightening his tail’s grip around your throat to plough his cock even deeper into your sopping cunt, while his free hand snakes to your front to roughly pinch one of your nipples, “Be a good girl and cum all over my cock.”

Every nerve in your body burns like a live-wire and the pleasure crests and crests until the coil in your lower belly snaps and your vision goes white. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, a high-pitched shriek tearing from your raw throat while your greedy cunt clamps down viciously on his cock and tries to milk it for all its worth, soaking him with your slick juices as he fucks you through your orgasm. Asmodeus lets out a guttural groan, cheeks burning, his thrusts turning sloppy as the sensation of your tight pussy clenching down on his cock finally triggers his own orgasm. 

“Hnngh! ____! That’s it, petal!” He grunts, fucking his thick load into your creaming pussy, loud squelching noises filling the air along with your shuddering cries, “Take it. Take all my cum.”

Finally, Asmodeus snaps his hips one last time and hilts himself in one fluid motion, the bulbous head of his meaty cock rubbing against the entrance of your cervix, and you whimper at the slight sting of pain, sucking in desperate breaths as your cunt is filled to the brim with cum. The sensation of his hot load shooting against your sensitive walls sets off yet another orgasm within you. You let out a feeble cry as your pussy weakly contracts around his pulsing cock, your spasming cunt flooding with never-ending torrents of jizz and violent tremors wrack your frame as copious amounts of cum swirls around in your womb. 

After the last few weak spurts, you feel him begin to soften inside you and then the grip in your hair slackens. Asmodeus grips your hips firmly and bends his form over yours, tail unravelling from around your throat to delicately wrap shoulders and secure your back to his chest. He carefully moves the both of you into an upright position and sits up with his back propped against the headboard, his cock still seated deep within you. You sat there astride his lap, your quivering form practically impaled on his cock as your lower belly bulges from the ridiculous amount of cum plugged up in your pussy. Once you are settled, you slump back against Asmodeus’ chest, completely spent, and the demon looks down at you affectionately. “You took it so well, baby,” he coos, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, “You did so good, just how I knew my precious little petal would~” 

You giggle softly at his affection and press a kiss to his bare chest, eyes glimmering with mischief, “I think I like the way you use your tail way more than your wings.” A mellifluous laugh rumbles from his throat and Asmodeus smirks down at you, “I suppose curiosity didn’t kill the cat, hm? I can’t say I’m surprised, after all, I know how to keep my little kitten satisfied~” 

Before you can quip back, a gasp rips from your throat when you feel him grind up into you. You whip your head up to playfully glare at Asmodeus, while he only chuckles, “Sorry, baby, I can’t help it when you’re sitting all pretty on my cock.” Suddenly, his eyes light up as though he realised something, “Ah, yes! After round two, we can test out our new bath salts!~”

You raise an arched brow at your boyfriend, “And just what makes you think there will be a round two?” Immediately, your boyfriend’s demeanour does a one-eighty and a coy smirk graces his face. “Oh, my precious petal,” he firmly cups your chin and presses his forehead against yours, eyes darkening with lust, “I can tell just from the way your greedy little pussy is squeezing my cock.”

Heat stirs in your lower belly at his words and you already feel his gradually hardening cock twitch against your walls. You just pout at him, “You’re so insatiable,” you mutter, nonetheless needily pressing your lips against his. Asmodeus grins cheekily into your kiss, “Ah, petal, you wouldn’t have it any other way!~” And he’s right. Not that you’d ever admit it to his face. 

© parkblooms, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission. Crossposted on AO3

#zo writes #my writing #writing #this is my first proper attempt at smut pls give me feedback #obey me! #shall we date obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #om! #om! swd #om! asmodeus #asmodeus #asmo #asmodeus x reader #asmodeus x mc #asmo x reader #asmo x mc #swd asmodeus #swd asmo #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #obey me fanfic #asmodeus fanfic #asmodeus scenario #asmodeus imagine #n.sfw #n.s.f.w. #*my writing

[wordynerdygurl]

Lady In Waiting

Author Note:  Hiya everyone!  This one, man, I’ve thought about this for a long time!  I hope it entertains and delights you all!   Summary:  Loki calls you over for some fun with cuffs but an interruption leaves you a Lady In Waiting!

Pairing:  Loki x Female Reader Warnings:  So, SMUT.  Art House, Prose-y, SMUT... also restraints, in a committed relationship.

“Come over.  I need you.”

That was all it took for you to get yourself across town as quickly as your worn out canvas sneakers could carry you. Knocking on his door, breathless and heart racing, you bite into your bottom lip.  Already excited, you rocked on your heels, a bubble of giddiness rising inside you.

Hearing the locks turn, you’re expecting the door to open for you, Loki waiting on the other side but that doesn't happen.  Tentatively, twisting the knob, you push into the dimly lit room where your lover hides.  He is definitely here, you think in the clear moment before Loki’s hands find your shoulders, driving you into the solid wood of his front door.

Stopping his lips is not an option.  Cupping your chin, he has tipped your mouth into the perfect position, allowing him unchecked access to your soft, sweet mouth.  You’d moan, but Loki would just swallow it whole, so the sound you do make is a choked gasp of longing. His tongue is inside you, flicking over your teeth.  His tongue rubs against your own, tasting what you taste of.  

His tongue caresses your inner cheek, slick on slick, slipping further into the deep well of you.

His tongue traces the roof of your mouth, riding the ridges there, as if to conquer all of the flavors and words and songs that might be made in your carnal cave. Pulling away, dewy pink pout in place, “I came as soon as I could.” “It’s much appreciated.” Fingers grab his tight shoulders, enjoying the unbearable nearness of him, unwilling to break your embrace even if the kiss must end.  Searching his eyes for answers, “What’s your rush?” It’s innocent enough a question.  Loki’s call had sounded almost panicked.  But you knew nothing truly scared your God of Mischief.  No, there was something else at work here.   “I told you.  I need you.”  Pressing his hardening length against your belly, you could feel the agitation in him, the straight up desire that drove him to dial you up.  Still at the entryway, you flexed your hands, releasing your grip on him with great effort.  

But Loki didn’t yield an inch to you.  If anything he stepped closer, pinning you with his rigid body and his scorching gaze.  With a heaving sigh, “Loki…” “Go to the bedroom.  Take off these ridiculous pants… your silly sneakers… your stupid socks.”  

On you again, mumbling into your neck, mouth intent on marking you, “Kneel on the bed.  You know how I like to see you.  Feet tucked under you, head bowed, back straight… but with your knees spread, dove.  Wide open for only me to see.  Will you do this for me?” What could you say?  No?  Hardly.  

Loki pushed away from you then, leaving you behind as he moved further into his lair, his directions leaving your knees weak.  Inhaling a steadying breath, you moved quickly, struggling for calm.  Pulse racing, you throw your bag down with a thump once you're in Loki's room.  

Wasting no time, you shuck your clothes, heart pounding with anticipation.  You scramble onto the inky sheets, flushed with want, goosebumps breaking across your hypersensitive skin.  It seems like hours, but truthfully, in seconds you were waiting as requested, panting with pent up passion. 

You weren't left waiting long. Leaning into the door frame, Loki was without his shirt, a sight that made you writhe.  Black jeans, faded at the knee from wear, were unsnapped but hanging onto his hips in a way that made you salivate.  He was also barefoot, which probably shouldn’t be so sexy on a man like yours, but damn him… even his toes had the ability to excite.

And they did, actually, all of it did.  You couldn't recall a time when you had been so, so ready.  If Loki didn't touch you soon, you were certain your body would self ignite. “Put your hands behind your back, little one.”  Doling out commands in his honey hot voice had you complying without complaint. Forcing your chest out, bountiful bust barely contained by your flannel shirt, you felt the buttons tug tightly in your new position.  Lust lingered in Loki’s eyes at your shameless display.  “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun, darling.  So much fun.” Deep down, you knew that the cuffs were coming out.  He wouldn’t have been so specific with his directions otherwise.  Still, when the cool steel snapped closed, trapping your wrists behind you, you keened softly, “Is this really necessary?” “Definitely.  Because, you see, you look so damn fetching with your body bent in the way I want.”  Pulling down on the chain between your shackles, back bending to relieve the pressure, Loki asserted his dominion over you.  

Long fingers plucked your straining buttons open.  Greedy fingers circled your nipples, the coarse lace of your bra offering no protection from the fantastic friction Loki was creating.  His palms squeezed, rough, fingers finding a hold on each of your glorious globes.   Tugging the frilly cups down, your breasts now heavy and free, Loki lowers his full lips to your tender bud.  At first it’s a lick, tentative, soft.  Soon he is sucking, precious pain pulling you closer to his tightly sealed kiss, perfect teeth biting into the gentle flesh. “Oh fuck… oh fuck… Loki…”  Whines tumble out of you, unbidden, unrehearsed.  

“Hush, dearest.  If you can’t quiet down, I’ll have to make you.”  Folding your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding with understanding, you silently agree.  Returning to his work, Loki focused on your opposite breast with the same erotic enthusiasm. Since you can’t speak, you hum.  But then your humming grows in volume.  Soon you’re moaning, unable to do more than bounce your bottom, needing the fullness that Loki offers to bring you some level of satisfaction.  Feeling him over the flimsy fabric of your panties, head thrown back in delirious desire, you want Loki to push inside of you.  You’re desperate to have him stretch you, open you up for his own amusement.  That eagerness makes Loki chuckle darkly.   

His hands find your hips, dipping under the elastic waist of your underwear.  Expecting Loki's lingering touch, a whine slides out of you at the sound of shredding satin.  “No, please, Loki!  I’ll be quiet.  I promise!” “Ah, it’s a bit late for that, unfortunately.  Open up.”  Loki expects your complete submission, never doubting that you’ll do what he’s asked.  Reluctantly you part your lips.  Loki takes his time, thumb caressing your mouth, before setting the ruined garment on your tongue. Kissing along your jaw, Loki husks, “Now you’re wet cunt is ready for me.”  Your eyes roll at his lewd language, a wave of euphoria coasting through your throbbing cleft, your stuffed mouth unable to do more than mumble.   His wicked words are still hanging there, floating in the air around you both, when there’s a knock at his door.  Freezing in place, his hand on your spread thigh, Loki’s head cocks to one side as if unsure that he’s heard the beckoning.

"Loki?  Are you there?” “Thor.  Fuck.  He's early.”  Shocked, you watch Loki push himself off the bed, buttoning up his pants.  Words form but are blocked by the fancy cloth stunting your speech.  Grazing his lips over your forehead, “Don’t move, darling.  I’ll be back.” Anger replaces arousal.  Loki can tell by the look on your face that you’re more than pissed off at the interruption.  “I know.  Just be a good girl.  Be quiet.  Be still.  And I won’t show my brother how incredibly sexy you look bound and gagged in my bed.” With one last look at your livid figure, Loki shut his bedroom door, leaving you as he described.  Wet, willing and now, waiting. You can’t hear what they’re talking about, all you can make out is tones.  It sounds rather serious, but without context, who’s to say what brings Thor here, unannounced.  He must ask after you, because Loki’s voice rises just a bit in order to offer a vague, “She’s tied up at the moment.”  And you really could scream with frustration and fury.   Internally debating your options, you realized that they were few, and of poor quality.  You could risk rising, near naked with your hands locked behind you, but how would you open the door?  Grunting, you sit back on your heels, giving your sore knees a break.  How long would Thor stay? Shortly you heard Loki’s footsteps coming closer.  Suddenly alert, your reverie broke in a flash, focused solely on the door.  Blushing hot, you watched the knob turn and Loki, finally, was there. He didn’t come closer, rather, Loki pulled a clean shirt from a drawer.  Tipping into near panic, you started talking even though you knew it was pointless.  Sensing your anxiety, Loki brought your face to his, kissing your cheek.   “Thor is still here, not a sound, kitten.”  His voice is rough.  Coarse.  But it also sends shivers shooting through your system.

The bed dips as he sits beside you.  Loki parts your opened shirt, hands drawn to your satin skin, palms skating over your belly.  Shivering, you can't help tilting towards him.  If you weren't so tense with need maybe you could afford to be angry with Loki.  As it is, just being near him is enough to reignite your ardor.

Whispering softly, calming you between chaste kisses to your chin, cheeks, the bridge of your nose, Loki calls you darling, sweetness, dear. His hands never stop exploring your tethered form, relishing your responsive whines, enjoying your trusting helplessness.  Mirroring your posture, sitting up on his knees, Loki grabs one of the pillows from his headboard.

Still adrift in the attention he affords you, his changing tone of voice jars you, "I only have a minute, pet."  His hands, aggressive now, slap your thigh.  The intention is clear.  Spread 'em.

"My sweet little kitten, so greedy, so ready for me… I am unable to attend to all your needs just now.  Regrettably."  His voice is a ragged husk.  

Arousal evident as he scrunches the pillow, "Come on… up on your knees." 

Unsure of Loki's objective, you're surprised when he tucks the cozy rectangle between you and the mattress.  The foam, pressing against your swollen sex, provides friction but not the satisfying stretch your body craves.  Using only your mumbled mewls as confirmation to continue, toying with you, Loki circles your hypersensitive clitoris.  Your hips jerk, surprised spasms sending you into the softness Loki has stuffed underneath you.

"That's it… keep going.  Gods, you are so beautiful."  His praise speeds up in time with your climbing desire.  Gasping behind your gag, once more on the edge of ecstasy, your thighs tremble around the cushion cradling your center.  Between Loki's dancing digit and the unlikely excitement caused by riding the downy pillow, you're seconds away from succumbing to a glorious finale.

And as fast as he began, Loki withdraws, leaving you drenched in unquenchable need.  Crying in frustration, muffled and desperate, your body is beyond the limits of begging.  At the moment Loki could ask anything of you and he would have your complete cooperation, if it meant that you could clench around his hard length.

Standing, those long legs carry him to the bureau.  Rustling around, Loki finds what he needs and faces you with a devious grin.  Crossing the floor in two strides, looming over you now, your tear streaked face lifts toward the man you love.  His hand tangles in your hair, forcing your back to bow, pushing your pelvis forward.

A familiar buzz fills the room.  He gives you no further warning.  One second you're open, ripe and ready.  The next you are overfilled, grateful for the gag muffling your cry, squeezing the toy stuffing your center.

“Loki?  Are you ready?”  Thor’s voice boomed from the other room breaking through the cloud of your nearing climax. “Nearly there, brother!  Give me just another minute!’  Turning his bright blue eyes to you, Loki flashed his finest smile, “He needs me to go with him.  I won’t be long… so you must cum.  Right now."

And it's the physically lethal combination of Loki's flashing glare, his wicked whispers, and false phallus that fight to free your feminine frenzy.  Humping his toy into you, the pillow giving you resistance, you feel the speculative shuddering start in your center.  Cresting in a wave of wonderment, your pleasure crashed over you, cries cut off by your full mouth.

Loki, holding onto you, cooing softly, caresses you through your release.  The toy stills inside of you, still filling, but no longer shaking against your tender walls.  Swiping the gag free, Loki forces a deep kiss on you, absorbing your aftershocks with his able mouth.  "That, my sweet, was worth every second."

Stretching your jaw, sighing softly, "Loki… undo these cuffs?"

Thoughtful for a moment, Loki looked over your flustered form, "I don't think I will.  I rather like having you here.  Knowing that you’re naked and needy, waiting for me.  Gods… I’ve been hard this entire time, dove.” Wasting no time, Loki picked up where he’d left you before, his hand finding your center as his tongue plundered you once more.  Slow, painfully slow, Loki dragged his fingers through your soaked slit, pressing the vibrator firmly into your velvet tunnel.  Soon, too soon, you were a mewling mess.  Sobbing softly into Loki’s ear, “Please… more, please.”

Shaking against him, body taunt, so ready to let go again, Loki’s fingers left you.  “I’ll be back in half an hour.”, his normally stoic voice streaked with desire. In a worried whisper, “What?  You’re really leaving me?”   “I am.  But once I get back, I’m going to ravage you soundly, so I need you to be ready.”

“Loki!  You can’t!”  It’s the loudest you can be while still whispering.  And it isn’t nearly forceful enough to change your troublemaking lover’s mind. “I can and I will.”  Walking around you, facing you full on, Loki stroked over your tummy.  Grabbing your bottom, fingers digging into your yielding flesh, you groaned.  “Oh yes, you’re staying right here, my pretty pet.” “Loki?  Are you ready yet?”  Thor sounded impatient, and more alarmingly, right outside the bedroom.  “Almost, dear brother.  Meet me downstairs, ok?” “Fine… but hurry up!  Jane’s expecting me!” “Oh, we don’t like to keep our ladies waiting, do we brother?”  Thor moves on, you hear his boots on the stairs.  Loki on the other hand, his look is sinful as he licks his lips, hungry for you.  Leaning into your ear, “I can smell you, kitten.  And I can hardly wait to have you.”  You lean into his strength, silently begging him to stop this game, hot skin abraded by his clothing.  “Please!  Don’t leave me hanging, Loki!” Laughing coldly, “Hanging?  Oh no.  You have so much to do, darling.  There are rules, you see…” Gritting your teeth, already on edge, you wanted to snap at your lover.  “Rules?  Loki, you’re really…”  But the rest of your words were lost as he manipulated the massager using some form of magic.  Arching away from him, your overstimulated body wanted to fly over the cliff into your next completion.   “Are you listening, love?  Because this is important.  You are not allowed to cum without me.”  

Rational thought was fleeting.  With every second of sensual overload Loki forced on you, all you knew for certain was that you worshiped the God in front of you, and because of this, your agreement was undeniable.  Nodding, voice useless, you let Loki kiss you again, his rhythm matching that of his tormenting toy.

"Do not cum, kitten. I will be back shortly."  Slapping your ass, Loki laughed at your shriek, shutting the door on you.  Could you hold out?  God, the thrumming vibrations were radiating through you.  Rocking your hips, fighting against the tide of your tension, your fragile nerves were rapidly fraying.  He had told you, commanded you, ordered you not to climax.   But how long would it take before your body broke Loki’s rule?  And just what would The God of Mischief do if you failed him?  Pulling against the steel bracelets holding your arms, snuggled into the cushion cradled against you, you laughed as a fresh release rolled over you.

You were going to be here awhile.  Loki was going to need a new pillow.  And paying him back was going to be so much fun.   

Tagging Team:  @just-random-obsessions​ @iamverity​ @brokenthelovely​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @archy3001​ @mizfit2​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @jamielea81​ @jessiejunebug​ @lots-of-loki​ @thefallenbibliophilequote​ @alexakeyloveloki​ @rorybutnotgilmore​ @procrastinatinglikeabitch​

#hot loki #loki x reader #loki x you #loki smut #loki (marvel) #marvel smut #mcu smut

[ofwolvesandbutterflies]

f minor

Pairing: NCT’s Jung Jaehyun x Reader

Genre: steamy fluff ig

Tags: nonidol!au, pianist!jaehyun, lowkeyswimmer!jaehyun

Warnings: m, language, gEttInG MaTURe ConTenT, almOst SmuT

A/N: i uh wrote a little blurby something in an effort to be good at writing lol

Synopsis: in which you have no idea how to play piano and jaehyun has a question 

--

I watched quietly, cheeks pinkening when I realized just how closely I'd been studying the dance of his fingers flitting up and down the black and white keys of the piano. My gaze traveled upwards over the veins of his forearms, the clean cut of his muscles, the broadening of his shoulders, the soft curve of his concentrated smile, the angle of his tightened jawline. He wasn’t perfect, no. But he was attractive. He was attractive, sweet, polite, and charming and he knew it. 

“-is ‘f’, right? I’m not hallucinating, this is ‘f’?” Roughly shaken out of my reverie, my gaze shot from his fingers back up to his face. He turned to look towards me. “This is ‘f’, right?” 

The sound of a chord hit my ears and I glanced back toward his fingers. White, white, white… as someone who hadn’t played the piano extensively, many of the keys really looked the same to me. 

“Uh-” in an effort to keep my eyes and thoughts from wandering too far, I searched my memory for any recollection of piano knowledge. Aside from a couple lessons I had taken in primary school, my ability to understand the piano was limited to the location of the ‘c’ key on the jumbled map of more than eighty keys. “I have no idea. I-I don’t play piano.” 

My body stiffened when he paused. From my standpoint right beside him, I could see all of the guitar chords on the paper… Guitar chords wouldn’t help me in this case. He chuckled good-naturedly, dropping an arm to wrap playfully around my waist in a type of one-armed hug. The layout of his fingers changed. White.. White, black, white. The hum of a different sound rang out in the otherwise emptiness of the room. 

“Ahh… right, that was ‘f’ because this is ‘f minor…” he trailed off, voice blending in with the sound of the chord slowly dying out. Without anything else to do but watch, I smiled. 

“Well, that was helpful. I still gotta practice more.” With a heavy sigh, he dropped his arm to check his watch. “Oh shit… I better pack up, my parents are expecting me within the hour.” 

“So soon?” I asked, feigning nonchalance. The absence of his arm around my waist felt even more prominent when he began to pack up. He shot me a look, eyes rolling. 

“It’s been four hours, dummy. You’re crazy if you still want me here,” a low chuckle rumbled through his throat and he bent down to unplug his electric keyboard from the wall. The blood rushed back to my face as my eyes traced the muscles of his arms, the muscles of his waist torso, thighs… 

“You coming to practice on Tuesday?” I questioned, doing my best not to sound too excited.

“Pfft, yeah,” he snorted. “I’m nervous as hell. This is my first time doing this type of…” he paused to gesture towards his keyboard. “- type of performance.” 

“It’s just a bunch of younger kids,” I offered. “Kinda like a swim meet. Except with clothes.” 

A deep laughed bubbled past his lips and he raised a single eyebrow in my direction. By this time, he was completely packed up, leaned up against the wall of the music room right beside me.

“If I’m being honest, I’m more comfortable at a swim meet with no clothes on.” 

My skin warmed at his proximity, inevitable smile dancing hesitantly along my lips. However, despite the heat trilling through my veins, a chilling draft from the aged ventilation system shot a shiver down my spine. Without hesitation, he shrugged off the jacket he had just put on and placed it over my shoulders. My lips parted in disbelief as he adjusted the heavy, layered cloth around my shivering body. A smile painted itself on his chapped lips. 

“O-oh, wait-” I grabbed his hands on instinct before he could pull away and held him there, right in front of me. “A-aren’t you c-cold, too?” 

The smile on his lips grew larger and his hands slipped out of my icy grasp to slide down my waist slyly. My fingers smoothed over the fabric of his long sleeves, taking note of the sculpted pecs beneath his shirt. I watched, curiously, as his hands danced their way past the opened zipper and found purchase underneath my sweater on the burning hot skin of my hips. He leaned towards me, resting a shoulder on the wall beside me, taller frame dwarfing mine in an instant. 

“I think I can manage.” 

His dazzling smile stopped every coherent thought from my mind and I blinked furiously, tearing my gaze away from his eyes. 

“You-you, I mean - I… Wait-” I stuttered lamely, eager to change the subject in an effort to draw the attention from myself. “You -uhm- you didn’t have an power outlet earlier when we were practicing, I mean. Or, did you? I mean, I couldn’t hear anything-” 

“I didn’t have an outlet earlier, no.” He chuckled, nudging my knees apart with his. Once space was made, he situated himself between my legs. “I was just fingering the keys. But there will be none of that for the performance. I should have an outlet then.” 

On a stroke of newfound confidence, I took my chance. Squaring my shoulders, I batted my eyelashes cheekily and shot him a sneaky smile. 

“Oh no, silly. There can be no fingering during the performance.” 

Immediately his gaze darkened and his eyes shot towards mine. I traced the curve of my bottom lip with my tongue, fingers caressing the skin of his jaw and tugging the strands of his soft hair by the nape of his neck. He leaned closer, breath fanning out over my skin. The overwhelming scent of pine and peppermint in his cologne sent my mind reeling. 

“Well then, princess.” His voice dropped an octave, lips pressed against my jugular. “If not during the performance, why not now?” 

My eyelids fluttered dangerously when he pressed a trail of kisses from my pulse to my lips. At once, his lips closed over mine coaxing the sweetest of breathy whines from my mouth. His hands slid down the curve of my ass, lifting my frame up only to push my body against the wall. A moan fell from my lips and into his awaiting mouth and with him pressed flush against me, I could feel every dip and crevice of the muscles covering his heaving torso. Teeth teased my bottom lip and our tongues danced, fighting for dominance. My hands fell back down his shoulders, only to cup his face closer. 

“Babe,” I gasped, breathless, pulling away when his hips rutted up against mine, showcasing the unfortunate hard-on he sported. “I thought your parents were expecting you home soon.” 

“Mmm…” He growled, bending down to place another hungry kiss over my mouth. One hand rested on the curve of my ass, the other underneath my thigh. “I’ll just tell them…” Another kiss. “- that you needed help-” another kiss. “-with something... urgent. It’ll be fine. They love you.” 

“Is it me that needs help, or you?” I giggled, playfully gyrating my hips to tease him. His hips bucked upwards and his forehead fell against my shoulder. A moan tore itself from his lips. 

“O-oh fuck, princess.” Grabbing me, he spun around to place me on his electric keyboard. His eyes flashed with something dangerous and he chuckled darkly. “Trust me when I say it’s gonna be you. You won’t be able to stand, let alone walk, by the time I’m done with you.” 

#nct #nct oneshot #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct x reader #nct au #nct fic #nct jaehyun #nct jaehyun imagines #nct jaehyun scenario #nct jaehyun oneshot #nct jaehyun x reader #nct jaehyun au #nct jaehyun fluff #nct fluff #nct smut #jaehyun #jaehyun oneshot #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun au #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun #jung jaehyun smut #jung jaehyun fluff #jung jaehyun x reader #nct u #nct 127

[ahgaseda]

two can keep a secret || chapter 01

⇥ synopsis : when your father reveals his intention to remarry, you find an unlikely confidant in Mark, your soon-to-be stepbrother, but what began as a revenge fling ironically becomes far more complicated...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, recurring alcohol and drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

There was a steady knock on the bedroom door and you jolted to attention, burrowed under a fluffy comforter. Your wild mane of hair fell into your face as you turned toward the entry and covered your chest with the blanket, despite wearing an overgrown t-shirt.

Rather than step inside, your father had enough experience being the single parent to his daughter for many years to know better than to disturb your privacy. Instead, he shouted from the other side of the wall, “Are you awake?”

“I am now,” you retorted petulantly, running a hand through your hair.

“The wife-to-be and I are going to breakfast,” he told you. “Would you like to join us?”

There were times your father invited you along from a place of obligation, but then there were times like this when he genuinely wanted to give you an opportunity to spend some time with him and your future stepmother.

“No thanks, Pops,” you replied tiredly, eyes squinting at the dreaded light worming its way through the curtains. “I need more sleep.”

“Alright, well,” your father spoke with disappointment, though he didn’t sound entirely surprised. “Mark is dead to the world. Neither of us could get a word out of him. He must have been up until the crack of dawn. We’ll leave the two of you to get more beauty rest, okay?”

You almost smirked, given you were the one at fault for Mark’s exhaustion.

“Sounds good, Dad,” you replied, muffling your words against the pillow you crammed between your arms. “We will be sure to join you next time. Promise.”

You could practically feel him smiling despite the closed door between you.

“Sweet dreams, princess,” he said a moment later, then you heard his footsteps fading away down the hall.

You hummed a delayed reply and dove back under the covers, flopping lifelessly to the mattress and returning into the cocoon of a lazy Saturday morning sleep.

Not five minutes had passed when your bedroom door opened. You were half-asleep, nearly tumbling into a well-deserved dream when someone crawled onto your bed and pulled at the blankets surrounding you.

“I know you’re awake,” Mark murmured, bracing himself above you on his hands and knees.

“Mm,” you hummed, eyes closed as you hovered desperately close to sleep.

Mark lowered some of his weight on your body, lips immediately seeking out your neck to plant a few soft kisses.

“Let me sleep,” you whined under your breath.

“Let me fuck,” Mark retorted with a ravenous edge to his raspy morning voice.

Grumbling, you reminded, “I let you fuck last night.”

Mark slipped his arms under your shoulders, getting a solid hold of you and dragging you down the bed until your head slid from the pillows and onto the mattress. You bounced slightly, but the action did little to rouse you from your daze.

“And I got hard just thinking about it,” Mark confessed, snickering.

With a sigh, you murmured, “Just go slow.”

“I will,” Mark replied, pecking a gentle kiss at the corner of your mouth for letting him have his way.

Lashes fluttering, you hummed at the feel of him against you, reaching up to grab his arms as he balanced above you. When you felt his hard cock sliding against your clothed folds, you wanted to giggle. It had been less than twenty four hours since you last shared a passionate tryst with your future stepbrother and he had already come crawling back for more.

“Are you sore?” Mark asked against your neck, kissing a bruise he had made during the last romp.

You nodded slightly and sighed, “Very.”

Mark kissed a path to your jaw, doing his best to rile you up before he relieved his morning wood. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered darkly. “You are the most beautiful woman to ever take me.”

“You talk too much,” you teased, sinking your nails into his back.

Mark rose enough to pull his shirt up and over his head. You rubbed your palms up and down his chest and arms, marveling the sheer size and tone of his muscles. He was hard to the touch, firm and bulging, and you appreciated the strength he could use when he was between your legs.

Closing your eyes, you hummed softly in your throat as his hands roamed your body, palms sneaking beneath your shirt to settle on your breasts. When Mark had his fill of toying with your nipples, he traveled his caresses down your waist to grab your panties, pulling them free to be tossed somewhere across the room.

“I still don’t have any guilt,” you confessed when he brought his hands to the bends of your knees and pulled you apart for him.

Mark glanced up, noting your eyes were shut and he briefly watched the steady rise and fall of your chest. “They’re not married yet,” he replied quietly, lifting your legs until you clamped them on his hips.

By his tone, he had no intention of giving up this newfound relationship after the wedding, no matter how wrong - or dangerous - it would be.

You exhaled. Part of you knew when the anger and disappointment passed, the remorse would set in, but you were too reckless to care. Bitterness wrapped around your heart and refused to let go, because you resented your father for even entertaining the idea of marrying another woman.

It was disrespectful to your late mother, who had been taken from you before her time.

As it turned out, Mark bore the same level of bitter rage and the two of you had bonded over shared emotions and inner turmoil. Needless to say, the two of you had found some sort of camaraderie and spent many nights talking until the early hours of the morning when sleep finally stepped in. You also discovered that Mark could fuck most of the misery out of you and at the least, make you forget just how angry you were with an orgasm or two.

Breaking you from your reverie, Mark propped himself above you on hands and knees, pushing his length between your folds and slowly sinking forward. You tensed beneath him, sucking in a hard breath as you quickly felt the soreness earned the night before.

“Easy, baby,” you whimpered, pressing your fingertips to his muscled arms.

Mark groaned at the tight grip of your swollen cunt around him, but did as told, coaxing his member gently into your heat. “Fuck,” he choked out, rocking his hips into yours when he eased inside.

Sleep steadily lost its hold on you. Mark tucked his face to the crook of your neck and breathed heavily against your skin. You carded your fingers into his hair and let your other hand roam down his back, biting your lip to hold back a moan.

Mark teased his teeth over your neck before growling in your ear, “Good girl. Open up for me.”

You whimpered at his praise, locking your ankles behind his back. It was a stretch to accept him inside you so deep and no boy that had come before him ever filled you this full. Tugging your grip on his hair, you nipped at his ear and whispered, “Harder.”

Mark lifted slightly to look in your eyes, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as he got a hold of your body beneath him and began smacking his hips into yours. You raked your nails down his chest, satisfied when little red lines were left in your wake.

His pace came faster and faster, and you let your head fall back, crying out, “There, Mark. Oh god.”

“Here?” he teased, his tongue lingering at the corner of his mouth.

Mark had decided that taking pleasure from your body was his new favorite drug of choice and coming inside you while you climaxed around him was his new favorite kind of high.

Your bedroom filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin. Your mattress squeaked and the headboard banged against the wall. But in the midst of it all, the only sound that had your attention was that of your slick cunt tightening each time his cock bottomed out.

“Mm, I make you so fucking wet, baby,” Mark growled, as if reading your mind.

You turned your head, grabbing a handful of the blanket and biting down on it to stifle your noises. Mark wasn’t too happy with that and sharply ripped the material from your mouth, pinning your hands on opposite sides of your head.

“I’m almost there,” he warned, a trickle of sweat running down his neck. “Come already.”

You were close and being so helplessly restrained in submission underneath him, you winched your eyes closed and moaned with every thrust of his hips. When he finally gave you release, your lips parted open in a silent scream and your thighs shook around his waist. Mark drilled into you even harder, spilling into you and groaning as your orgasm milked every drop of pleasure out of him.

You went limp on the mattress as the last of his release filled you, your chest heaving for breath. The headboard smacked against the wall one last time when Mark collapsed beside you, running a hand through his hair and groaning, “Goddamn.”

Glancing over, you chuckled. There was something undeniably satisfying about wearing Mark out. The night before, you had ridden him into oblivion and you swore the way his voice broke when he came was seared into your mind forever.

Having sex with your future stepbrother was supposed to be a one-time deal, purely from a place of vengeance and spite. That was until he and his mother moved in at your father’s invitation the day before. Mark had waited until the coast was clear to wrap his arms around your waist and whisper, “I can’t wait to be inside you again.”

Shivering at the memory, you looked to him once more, not the least surprised to see your lover was already drifting to sleep. You were tempted to play with his disheveled hair to help him get there even faster.

“Mark,” you called softly.

He turned his head, eyes expectant but clouded with exhaustion.

“They can never find out about this,” you said lowly, tone grave.

Mark nodded his agreement. Then he outstretched a fist toward you, his pinky finger held out.

You snorted at the gesture, but nevertheless you wrapped your little finger around his, sealing the promise to keep the biggest secret of your life.

chapter 01 ⇥ chapter 02

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

#got7 fanfiction #got7 smut #mark smut #mark tuan smut #got7 imagines #got7 au #mark tuan imagines #mark tuan au

[kingspavvn]

* 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫 / @adindiaboli​ !

𝒁𝑨𝑰𝑫𝑬𝑵 , 𝑰𝑵 𝑺𝑷𝑰𝑻𝑬 𝑶𝑭 the  rage  that  often  coils  deep  within  his  muscles  ,  is  not  stupid  --  and  the  throng  of  mortals  scattered  throughout  the  epicenter  of  manhattan’s  glimmering  intrigue  are  enough  reason  for  the  dark-haired  death  dealer  to  reign  in  his  explosive  temper.  it  is  perhaps  the  first  time  in  what  feels  like  weeks  ,  months  ,  or  even  years  that  he  feels  the  tension  (  the  rigid  ,  uncomfortable  stiffness  that  never  seems  to  loosen  in  spite  of  himself  )  slowly  begin  to  melt  away.  this  particular  evening  had  been  intended  to  be  another  carefully-planned  sting  operation  ;  the  threat  of  the  full  moon  lingers  darkly  overhead  and  out  of  habit  ,  the  death  dealer  cannot  help  the  way  his  suspicious  blue  gaze  wanders  above  to  study  the  thick  fronds  of  clouds  obscuring  the  lunar  menace  from  view.  he  finds  himself  distracted  for  what  feels  like  the  umpteenth  time  that  evening  ,  cool  summer  breeze  stirring  dark  locks  as  his  head  tilts  back  &  his  gaze  remains  studious.

he  only  falters  when  the  sound  of  a  familiar  voice  cuts  through  the  haze  ,  the  delicate  pet-name  dripping  from  clair’s  lips  enough  to  snap  zaiden  from  the  reverie  of  thoughts  that  continued  to  plague  him.  he  inhales  sharply  ,  giving  his  head  a  brief  shake  before  his  attention  finally  diverts  back  to  his  (  work  )  partner.  careful  blue  hues  drop  from  clair’s  face  and  down  to  the  flimsy  paper  plate  grasped  within  his  hands  --  and  the  sight  of  the  dish  they  had  waited  nearly  two  hours  for  is  enough  to  force  zaiden’s  expression  to  contort  with  unabashed  distaste.

❝  please  tell  me  you  did  not  force  me  to  stand  in  line  with  you  in  this  heat  for  …  a  twisty  ,  greasy  piece  of  fried  dough.  ❞  his  annoyed  groan  is  almost  petulant  as  zaiden  lowers  his  head  down  to  give  the  pastry  a  suspicious  sniff.  it’s  cloyingly  sweet  scent  is  nearly  enough  to  make  him  gag  and  ,  with  another  muted  huff  ,  he  pulls  back  to  give  the  other  vampire  a  side-eyed  look.  ❝  you  expect  me  to  eat  this  ?  ❞

#( iii. ) int. / wolves come out of the woodwork. #uwfmevent:001 #( iv. ) start. / leaches come from out of the dark. #adindiaboli

[yespolkadotkitty]

The Angel’s Share, pt 11

Co-written with @hopelessromanticspoonie , my sister from another mister. Actually this chapter is 90% her genius work.

The gentle sway of Bandit’s sinewy body beneath her and Thomas pressed Kate’s back into his lean, solid chest in a way that sent her thoughts spiraling into a decidedly delicious and dangerous place that existed in the long-ignored heat between her legs. His wrists rested on her thighs right where her shorts met skin, lazily holding the reins of his well-trained stallion as he guided them toward the distillery they’d meant to explore yesterday before everything had gone off script.

Despite her expectations, there hadn’t been a moment of awkwardness on her return. Lucille gave her a slow nod in greeting, and if she squinted hard enough and tilted her head just right, Kate would’ve sworn she saw the edges of her lips curling into the beginnings of a smile. It was a start.

And then the evening had been completely dominated by Gideon, who insisted upon decorating cookies, then having her help with dinner (where he mostly stirred ingredients that the three adults prepared for him), and then read him stories before bed. He just seemed so excited to see her that he didn’t want the evening to end.

“And they lived happily ever after,” Kate whispered to the sleeping boy, carefully setting the book aside on his small bedside table. She slowly peeled her fingers from his tiny grip before giving into the urge to lean down and leave a light kiss on his forehead after brushing it free from his black curls. “At least in fairy tales they do.”

“He adores you.”

Turning around, she locked eyes with Thomas, who watched her with such a complex mixture of longing and heartache on his face she didn’t know how to react. She waved her hand out to the hallway, tiptoeing out of the room in her bare feet to close the door behind them as soundlessly as she could.

“He knows a good thing when he’s found it,” she teased, leaning against the wall in the hallway, feeling the exhaustion of the emotionally trying day weighing on her now that everything was said and done.

Thomas reached up to caress her cheek. “As do I. I was hoping we could talk?”

The urge to lean into his touch was too strong to ignore. Her eyelids fluttered shut for the briefest moment before she shook her head, looking up into his impossibly deep blue eyes. She needed time to process everything, to see how her head felt about her heart leading her decisions for the day, and to decide where she wanted to go with him. Thomas’ very presence was a distraction, heartbreakingly stunning, and that was the issue. “Can we postpone the soul searching until tomorrow? I just…”

“Of course.” He dipped his head to leave a lingering kiss on her temple. “Sleep well, Kate.”

Now, as Bandit brought them to the doors of the distillery, her stomach twisted itself into knots dreading the conversation that was to come. Was honesty the best policy, or should she hide behind her barricades of bluster and bluff to protect what was left of her barely healed heart? She allowed him to help her dismount, blushing at the intensity of his stare as his hands pressed into the sides of her waist.

Panic, quieter than before, still tapped against her chest and squeezed around her lungs. She cleared her throat, running a hand through her loose hair before pointing at the large metal structure to their right. “The whiskey?”

His eyes watched her for a moment longer, full to the brim with thought that she wanted to unravel, before he lifted one hand to the middle of her back to guide her into the structure. The scents of the whiskey were most prevalent once the door was closed, sealing inside the dimly lit room with shelves stretching throughout the space and above their heads. Oak, smoke, and a taste of sweetness perfumed the air as he led her throughout the walls of barrels, outlining the work he had accomplished over recent years to get to where they were today.

“There is still much to be done, with expanding the knowledge of Crimson Peak, to our stores, to convincing fine establishments such as The Dapper Tap to stocking it.” He stopped against an outer wall, kicking up a foot against the metal, leaving his hands loose at his sides. “What do you think?”

He must know how ridiculously handsome he was, his knee bent in front of him and his midnight stained hair curling over his face and down the back of his head from the humidity of the summer day. She crossed her arms over the thin t-shirt covering her soft stomach, quirking her brow with a feigned air of disdain. “I don’t know, GQ. Is this all that you have to offer us?”

“Your place of work? Yes.” He reached out and snagged her hand, tugging her close until her hip brushed against the bend of his knee. “You? Certainly not.”

The familiarity in his smile, in the rub of his thumb over her knuckles, the rough edge to his voice was too much. She tugged her hand free and took a few small steps back to put some distance in between them. The vice on her heart lessened, even as the traitorous muscle itself fluttered in her chest at the hurt that flashed in his eyes.

“What can I do, Kate?” he asked, pleading plaintive in his silken voice.

In a fit of frustration she scrubbed her hands through her hair, waging war inside her head as she stared at her boots scuffing the concrete floor anxiously. This lovely man asking for her help in breaking down the walls around her heart set off too many warning bells. But they made her feel weak, vulnerable, as if the past controlled her.

Nobody controlled Kate Adams. Not anymore and never again.

“It isn’t you. It is you, but it isn’t you,” she tried for the vague explanation, searching him to see if it was enough. Judging by the concern still lingering on the sculpted planes of his face, it wasn’t enough.

She took a deep breath, fighting against the fear that crawled beneath her skin. “You’re just so much like him. My ex. Rich, handsome as hell, put together and full to the brim with charisma that drew me in like a moth to a flame. I’ve never been wealthy, never will be, but man, was it a whirlwind to come out of university to meet this man who wanted to give me the world on a silver platter. Drag me around parties in dresses worth more money than had ever existed in my bank account, decorate me with jewelry and gift me expensive handbags to hold all of his empty promises safe to my chest.”

Her hands shook at her sides, and she clenched them together in front of her, willing her stubborn strength to remain steadfast and her eyes to remain clear. “I burned it all. My flat smelled like burnt plastic for ages, and I probably killed off some brain cells I couldn’t afford to lose. But staring at all of that,” she paused, a faraway look in her eyes as she stared unseeing at the wall next to his head, “I only saw him when I looked at them. Derrick, fucking some socialite when I had gone over there to surprise him after I’d gotten off work early.”

The bitter laugh that barked from her throat was too loud and hollow for the grand empty space. “He didn’t even pull out to talk to me, for fuck’s sake. He gave me some bullshit about how it was bound to happen, ‘that’s how the world works’, but at least he ‘paid me for my services’ until someone better came along. Someone thinner, prettier, with the class and manners and social status to make a good trophy wife.”

It all came out of her in a rush that she couldn’t control. And now that it was lifted from her chest, she felt wrung out, exhausted and honestly just in need of a hug. Instead, she stood there, working her hands together in front of her stomach until the tips of her fingers turned white, blinking away any betraying emotion that dared to make itself known on her reddened face. Thank goodness for the small miracle of her hair tumbling down to hide most of her nervous, distraught expression from view.

There was something about Thomas that called to her to confide in him. Whether it was the tender thoughtfulness in his expression whenever he listened to her, or his unwavering support, she longed to sink into the sanctuary that he offered. But that tiny voice inside her head kept her rooted to the spot. Best to keep her distance to protect both of them from the destruction any sort of relationship between them could cause.

When she looked up from her angry reverie, Thomas’s face had changed. He looked unhappy. No, not unhappy. Furious. He looked something close to feral.

“And where is this Derrick now?” he asked, his tone low and soft, but nonetheless fairly unnerving. 

“I’ve no idea,” Kate answered honestly. “Probably jetting around the world, still, fucking heiresses, on Daddy’s money.”

“I’m glad you burned all his trinkets,” Thomas muttered darkly, his eyes almost black in his face of planes and angles. “Pity he didn’t catch fire with them, burned to a crisp. Still, it would have been a damn sight more than he deserved.”

Kate’s heart stuttered. “But-”

Thomas crossed the space that separated their bodies and cupped her face gently. “What I am trying to say, Katharine, is that if this charlatan of a man - and a shoddy excuse for a man, really - couldn’t see your worth, he himself is worthy of exactly nothing. A fist in the face, perhaps. One I’d very much like to administer myself. And you say that I am similar to this unfaithful reprobate?”

The hurt on his face was so stark that Kate drew in a sharp breath. “I - On the surface.”

“Then perhaps it’s time we both did some swimming, don’t you think?” And he leaned down, touched his lips to hers, featherlight, a question in the soft, barely-there kiss. He kept his hand on her face, but that touch, too, was polite, just a whisper of skin on skin, and she could have broken free with only a token effort.

But she didn’t, because he was right, and even if her heart was on the line again, hadn’t Thomas proved he deserved at least this weekend? This chance.

She kissed him back, allowed her arms to slide around his neck, let her fingers toy with the errant curls of his hair where they met his collar. She breathed him in and as their tongues danced, as the sunlight from the window warmed her back, she hoped against hope that she wouldn’t regret it.

Series taglist: @rjohnson1280 @alexakeyloveloki @villainousshakespeare @wolfsmom1 @arch-venus25 @tamstrugglestowrite @lucantis @trickstersteve  @exygon @kneel-before-queen-loki

YPK taglist: @vodka-and-some-sass @nonsensicalobsessions @just-the-hiddles @sllooney @polireader @amarisyousei​ @myoxisbroken​ @lovesmesomehiddles​ @brokenthelovely​ @lotus-eyedindiangoddess​ @wiczer​

Please ask to get on or off the taglist!

#thomas sharpe fic #thomas sharpe au #crimson peak au

[artistic-writer]

The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Ch 4

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal.  Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some. A/N: All I can do is apologise for the wait for this one!  My mind was a mess - Ch 4 became Ch 5 so then I had to write Ch 4 and just...ug...well, you know.  I hope this isn’t too much for you all to take.  Cold towels are being provided.  I would also like to give a MASSIVE thank you to @itsfabianadocarmo​ for her beautiful artwork that she so graciously allowed me to use from now on! <3

This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics.  Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg.  Just so you know.  There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O.  If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :)  Many thanks to @hollyethecurious @shardminds​ @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @resident-of-storybrooke​ and @effulgentcolors​ for letting me bounce my complicated ideas of you lol

If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

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Killian absentmindedly watched a patch of light on the ceiling of Emma’s bedroom, the silver oval shape fixed to the spot above them. It illuminated a blemish on the plastering of the ceiling that made Killian wonder if Emma’s apartment wasn’t some sort of metaphor for her life, the daytime showing the grandeur and superfluous life she led at Graham’s behest, and the innocently pale moonlight highlighting the rot in the darkness of her marriage. In truth, the fact that Emma made no secret of her distaste at her marriage just spurred Killian on to hold her tighter.

Killian wasn’t even sure if Emma felt the same, but what he was sure of, was, that for the last few hours she had been chatting, her fingers idling in the soft curls of his chest hair, sometimes slipping beneath the sheet at his waist in exploration of what was at the end of the line of hair there, he would listen to her forever. He couldn’t make head nor tail of his emotions, not only for the simple fact that Emma was a Beta, but also because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the feeling she was something more.

Will had warned him about this, and maybe it was because Killian had never fucked anything outside of his toys when he wasn’t in a relationship. He might be an Alpha, but Killian was also a man of honour. Will might like to fuck everything that moves but Killian was more interested in finding that special someone who would complete both his heart and his soul, ultimately a mate who would know him better than he knew himself. Of course, it was absurd to think Emma could be that person, but she was addictive and he never wanted to be hooked on anyone else.

“Why did you come here tonight?” Emma asked softly as she rolled in Killian’s arms until she was on her stomach. He raised his arm a little to accommodate her in his hold, enjoying the warmth of her skin on his fingertips when he ran dragged them over the ridges of her spine.

“What do you mean, love?” Killian asked her innocently. “You know why I came.”

“Yeah, but,” Emma began, her fingers combing through the hairs on his chest. “I mean,” she stammered shyly.

“You mean, I wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow?” Killian offered with a smirk.

“Yeah,” Emma nodded. “Not that I’m complaining.”

“Well that’s good to know,” Killian smiled proudly, his hand tracing the curve of her shoulder. “I’d hate to think I wasn’t doing my utmost to thoroughly please you.”

“Mmm,” Emma hummed with a daydream smile but that faded as quickly as his words had sunk in.

She had waited her entire life for someone like Killian to come along and sweep her off her feet. Alpha or not, she was sure they had some sort of connection. There had never been an opportunity for her to date as she grew up, and because of her illness, a lot of the time she was unable to attend the many social events that the Humbert's so graciously invited her to. Maybe it was why she had so eagerly agreed to marry Graham when he had proposed to her, knowing she had no other choice.

Maybe it was why, for the first time in her life, right now, in Killian’s arms, she felt like she had a choice.

“Hey,” Killian coaxed her from her reverie with the soft lilt of his groggy post-sex voice. He brushed the smooth pad of his thumb over the corner of her mouth until she looked at him, her cheeks prickling with pink as she offered him a small smile. “That’s better,” he smiled back before leaning towards her and pressing his lips to hers.

Immediately, Killian felt Emma’s smile widen and when he felt the softness of her palm against his cheek as she cupped his face, he kissed her harder. Emma giggled against his lips, a giddy, jovial sound that had Killian rearranging himself until he was towering over her, never breaking the kiss as he caged her in his embrace. Emma clutched the side of his face, pulling him down with her when she fell back into the softness of the pillows, spreading her legs wide to accommodate his bulk when he settled into the apex of her thighs.

Emma was the first one to part her lips and tease the seam of Killian’s with her tongue, gently lapping at his smirk until he opened up his mouth and let her in with a manly chuckle. Her hands left his face and danced down his shoulders, traced the outline of his ribs, and smoothed over the curve of his abdomen until her fingers tickled at the hair there. Killian sucked in a breath, pulling his lips from hers and fixing Emma with a raised eyebrow stare.

“Again?” Killian said darkly.

Emma bit her bottom lip and writhed, scooting down the bed until the wetness between her thighs was level with Killian’s hips and she knew he could feel the heat from her. The slowly hardening girth of him bobbed up when he clenched his muscles and barely brushed her sex, making her gasp all the same. Emma cast her eyes down between them, focusing on the one thing between them that might end her ever aching need for something she couldn’t explain but knew only Killian could fix.

“Alright,” he smirked, his voice soft yet firm. “But first you must do something for me.”

“Anything, Alpha” Emma breathed, not even realising the sort of effect her words could have on an Alpha.

For a second Killian was thrown. He was only going to ask her to get him going, but the second she had obeyed, whether she meant to or not, he was rock solid in seconds. Logically, he knew that Emma was not an Omega, but he couldn’t help but dream for a second. She wasn’t some Beta who had a scumbag husband that treated her like shit. She was more than precious, everything, the personification of happiness and love. She was an Omega, begging, pleading, wanting him to please her just as much as she eagerly pleased in return.

She was his.

“Killian?” Emma began sheepishly, touching her open hand to the side of his cheek.

It shook him from his thoughts just long enough for him to realise that her smile had faded and a real look of concern was plastered all over her face. Her eyes had dulled, the lust now gone and the darkness of worry having crept into its place. It took him a second of listening to the thumping of his own blood in his ears to realise that he had frozen, poised above her with his length pressed to her slightly damp sex and a stupified look on his face.

“Are you okay?” Emma blushed, a heat creeping down her neck and across the top of her chest. “Did I-?”

“No, love, you could never,” he assured her quickly. His hands found her face, brushing some stray strands of her golden locks from her brow, his heartbreaking from the look in her eyes.

“Then what is it?” Emma said shyly, a blush pinking her cheeks at his compliment. “Talk to me.”

How could he? How was he supposed to explain to a Beta just how he was feeling? Emma would have no idea. Alpha’s were not supposed to be like this, cradled in the arms of a woman who was paying him to please her. Correction. Her husband was paying him, and the mere thought of the ungrateful swine made Killian’s blood boil in his veins. Emma was sweet, and worth so much more than what Graham could ever offer her, physically and emotionally, but Killian couldn’t think of anywhere he’d rather be.

“It’s nothing,” Killian said sweetly. His hand stilled on her cheek, cradling the shape of her face in his palm, thumbing the edge of her pretty lips until he saw her smile. “I swear it,” he added and had never meant anything so much in his entire life.

“Oh,” Emma sighed, but before she could continue, Killian was reassuring her again.

“It’s just, you don’t have to say those things with me.” He swallowed hard, a warmth spreading up his spine. The last thing he wanted to do was offend her if that was what she wanted, but she had never mentioned it before now without his prompting, something he had thought she wanted during their encounters, so he could only assume she thought that was what he wanted to hear. “Call me Alpha, I mean.”

“Are you not an Alpha?” Emma teased, canting her hips against his length again.

“Aye, love,” he laughed timidly, shifting his hips away from her advances. “But this whole arrangement is about making you feel good, not me.”

“And does me calling you Alpha make you feel good?” Her smile was too much and he was sure that by the way he was blushing, she already knew the answer. “It does, doesn’t it?” Emma pried, letting her hands dance over the soft jut of his hips. “Calling you Alpha has you all hot and bothered for real, doesn’t it?”

“It’s not supposed to,” Killian told her with a quirk of his brow and a scratch behind his ear.

That had Emma intrigued and she pushed herself up onto her elbows, repositioning herself against the pillows and letting Killian roll off to her side.

“What does that mean?” She asked with a tilt of her head. Emma watched as Killian settled on his side, resting his head on his hand and giving her a confident smile. “What?” Emma narrowed her eyes at him but all she got back was his beautiful, cheeky grin. “Tell me!”

She giggled, sitting up so she could push feebly against his shoulder before tumbling down on top of him.

“Love, there is something you should know about Alphas like me, for hire, I mean.” Killian sucked in a breath, stroking some hairs from her face.“We aren’t...We aren’t supposed to have feelings for our clients.” Killian licked his lips and nervously avoided her gaze, the spread of warmth over his cheeks probably as obvious as it felt.

“Killian, what are you saying?” Emma teased, enjoying the way he squirmed.

“I don’t know exactly,” Killian shrugged with a chuckle, his whole body rumbling and making the bed bounce. His hand found her skin, attracted like a magnet, and he dragged the tip of his fingers over the curve of her shoulder. “I can’t explain it. All I know is that since I first laid eyes on you I have felt things, things I am bloody well sure no Alpha has ever felt for a beta before.”

Emma frowned, her brows pulling together, and she pushed herself up to mirror Killian’s pose. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” he began, trying to not look at her exposed breasts. Emma had no qualms about being naked around him, and he found it ever so endearing that she felt so comfortable when he was around. “Alphas are not exactly complicated, we rut, we fuck, and we are inherently attracted to that one person that we want to protect, above all else, and we will do anything in our power to keep them safe. “ Killian met her gaze once more, the blue of his eyes shining in the darkness. “Emma, I’ve known Alphas to die protecting that person.”

Emma’s throat went dry and she struggled to swallow. All of the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, not in a panic response, but instead, arousal. Want. Need. “Why are you telling me this?” she uttered, unable to stop her free hand from resting comfortably on Killian’s chest where her fingers gently stroked the hair there.

“I don’t know that either.” Killian shook his head. He was so confused and flattened his hand over hers, pinning hers to his chest where his heart thumped a steady rhythm against her fingertips. “Maybe I figured you could help me work out what I’m feeling.”

Killian offered her a small smile, warm and welcoming, a silent plea to her to aid him in deciphering his heart. It was all he wanted, really, for Emma to accept him and the love he knew he already felt for her, obstacles be damned. Here she was, glorious and glowing, like a naked angel in bed next to him who could end him, right where he lay, and he would willingly let her. If only their lives were not so complicated.

“Killian Jones, you don’t know a lot, do you?” Emma’s voice shook him from his daydream and he copied the grin that was plastered on her face.

“I’m sorry, love, it doesn’t seem that I do.” Killian flopped down onto the bed, sinking into the pillows with a huff. The only word he could use to describe his current predicament was conflict, between his head and his heart. He knew he shouldn’t, but he wanted Emma like no other, and he would willingly give up ever finding an Omega mate just to be with her. There was a connection there, he knew it deep down in his soul, and had tried to ignore the pounding of his heart in his chest whenever she was near. Emma slipped further under the thin sheet that covered them and moved to straddle his waist with a groan of content that he was sure was involuntary because he had heard it before, but was like music to his Alpha ears nonetheless. Her hands found his face, lightly pawing over the scruff of his cheeks as she tenderly kissed the underside of his jaw.

“Well, what do you know?” Emma purred, the lobe of his ear catching on the skin between her fingers. Her mouth soon followed and through her smirk, she began nibbling his ear.

“Honestly?” Killian gulped with his eyes pinched closed, hating himself for grabbing her hand and halting her torturous assault. Emma stopped, easing herself up off his chest and sitting back, her heels tucked under her bare ass as her feet rested across his thighs, her nails clawing at the hair on his stomach because she couldn’t get enough of how soft they felt. The half hurt look she gave him made his chest tighten, but he needed her to focus on his words. “I know I want to keep you safe, more than anything,” Killian said earnestly, pushing his weight up after her until they were face to face and he was cupping her head in his hands. His thumbs brushed over her cheeks in unison and he held her tightly to ensure she not only heard his next words but felt them too. “I know that no man deserves you, least of all him.”

Killian’s heart stopped when he heard her hold her breath and a lump caught in his throat. He’d gone too far, exposed too much, been too fucking Alpha, wearing his heart out on his sleeves, and now he’d be back to just being her fuck toy that her husband was paying for. The idea stung more than anything he had ever experienced. Panic settled in his entire being, running so deep that even the beds of his fingernails itched when Emma looked away, casting her eyes downward.

“He’s my husband, Killian,” she murmured, her voice laced with sadness but her hands clutched his and held them to her face in a silent plea to never let go.

Killian felt her sorrow, he really did. It oozed from her every pore, every muscle tense and yet yearning for the release of his touch at the same time. She was caught up between the man she was obligated to be with and the man she was with right now, and the pain and torment were evident, radiating from her very being. Emma didn’t even have to say it; Killian knew exactly how she felt.

“I know, and I’m sorry, love, but he is so unworthy of you.” Killian's voice cracked a little, his words fighting to escape passed the lump that had formed in his throat. He rolled his forehead against hers, letting his eyes flutter closed as he inhaled her scent, the musk of sex and release all over her body, put there by his lips when he had worshipped her body with his kisses after they had fucked earlier that evening. She was more than she had been led to believe, more than she had ever known, but telling her constantly circled back to her husband and Killian hated himself for making her remember her sadness.

“What makes you think I am worth anything?” Emma whimpered, small and meek, her words nothing but a breath against his lips.

Killian felt her shudder when he trailed his hands down the column of her neck, brushing the hair that sat lazily there over the curve of her shoulder, his lips soon following to kiss her over where her pulse was quickening under the skin there. He inhaled her again, taking in every level of fragrant note that her body was offering up, and he couldn’t help but scrape his nails over the bumps of her spine as he held her, his hungry mouth impossibly wishing he was about to mark her as his. “Emma,” Killian chuckled in disbelief, his tongue darting out to moisten his lips and catching the taste of her salt sheened skin in the process. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen and I can’t help but wish our paths had crossed before now.”

Emma’s eyes rolled back in her head as he kissed her, her fingers plunging into his already sex messed hair and forcing his lips to sear her skin again. “Maybe in another life?” She panted, the hope evident in her voice that was also laced with regret.

“And why not this one?” Killian offered and Emma’s head snapped up, eyes wide with something Killian couldn’t quite recognise, a mixture of anguish and yearning balancing on the edge of anger. She wanted it too but was just as confused as to the logistics as Killian was. “Love, I don’t mean to sound crass, but your husband is away from you for over eighteen hours a day and I, for one, would despair if you were out of my sight for even a second.”

Emma’s face paled and Killian felt her flesh ripple with goosebumps under his hold. For a second he wasn’t sure if he had gone too far and suggested the ultimate betrayal in Emma’s eyes, or offered her the reason she has longed to hear. The reason to finally be free of the corruption that came with being a Humbert’s wife and live her life with whoever she wanted. The conflict was plastered all over her face and Killian’s heart twinged with remorse.

“I’m sorry, love, I shouldn’t have-,” Killian began in apology but he was taken by surprise when Emma pulled his head upwards and pressed her finger to his lips, sealing them shut.

“Shut up, Killian,” she snapped, but her voice wasn’t filled with anything except sultry darkness that made Killian hard again. She let him rest his face in her hands and offered him a coy smirk, their eyes locked once more, blue turning grey when Killian saw the lust behind Emma’s before she let her hands slip to his chest and pushed him back onto the bed. “Shut up and fuck me,” she demanded, wiggling her hips over his solid length, rolling her bottom lip under her toothy grin. “Fuck me like you want to.”

Killian thought he was going to pop his knot. Her words were so erotic, so unlike the manipulative woman he had been lead to believe Emma was, and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t enjoyed her demand. There was a blur in time, between where they were and where they ended up, where Emma had fallen forward onto the bed and Killian had crawled up over her back like a rabid animal. She squealed in excitement, clenching her buttocks and burying her face in the pillow that had been, somewhere in the exchange, slung to where she lay. Killian had her pinned, his powerful thighs on either side of her hips and his hands kneading slow, deliberate circles into the middle of her back.

“That’s a dangerous proposition,” he growled, fingers flexing around her ribcage. He leaned down and kissed her spine, pecking his lips to her skin between each ridge until he reached her shoulder blades and carefully moved her hair aside with a swipe of his hand.

“Why?” Emma breathed dumbly, trying to writhe beneath him, her hand finding his thigh beside her hip and clutching it, desperate to feel any part of him on her skin.

Killian nuzzled his nose behind her ear, the sound he made as he let out a husky laughing sound making her entire body vibrate with anticipation. His lips skimmed over the shell of her ear and he planted a hand to each side of her head, towering over her, mindful not to suffocate her with his entire weight. Emma he let out a moan and he smirked, open mouthed and wide against the side of her cheek, where she could see him out of the corner of her eye.

“Because, love, I’ve wanted to fuck you the way I want since the moment I first saw you,” Killian began, balancing his weight on one arm so he could stroke his knuckles down the side of her neck, right over the spot where she would have a scent gland if she were an Omega. He ground his engorged cock into the crease of her arse with clenched teeth, eyes cast down between them to watch, imagining her begging for his knot because she was so desperate to come that she couldn’t take it anymore.

“So?” Emma challenged, wiggling her restricted hips until she felt her cheeks slapping his cock and Killian groan.

Killian held her hips still, his fingernails digging into her flesh. “The contract-,”

“Fuck the contract,” Emma scoffed. “In fact,” she declared, rolling over underneath him. “Let’s break it. What’s stopping you fucking me the way you want?”

Killian’s lips ticked up into a wry smile. “It specifically states that I am not allowed to come inside of you.”

“Oh,” Emma sighed with a blush.

“Something I would sell my soul to do,” he said darkly, rearranging himself so he was between her legs. Emma spread them wider to accommodate him, his length scorching a hot line into the inside of her thigh and his tip begging for entrance between her folds when he settled over her once more. “Something that means I’d have to knot you,” he continued, reaching between them and stroking his fingers through her folds, his lips millimetres from hers when he felt her gasp and suck all the air between them into her lungs. “Something I think you would like very much.”

Before she had time to form a reply, Killian’s lips were on hers and he was delivering a crushing kiss that made her see even more stars than she already was. He had a way of leaving her dazed with just his words and she couldn’t get enough, even hearing his voice in her head when they were apart. Emma parted her lips to allow his tongue inside where it duelled with her own, his neck muscles strained under her fingers when she clawed his skin in her eagerness to get more of him. Nothing else mattered. He was all she wanted, so when he broke the kiss and left his mark lingering against her lips, she whimpered in protest.

“Emma, can I knot you?” Killian ground out, canting his hips until the tip of him slipped inside of her.

Emma bit her bottom lip and nodded her reply.

“It might hurt,” Killian warned her, angling his hips again so that more of his erection was inside her.

Emma felt her body sizzle with heat and angeled her own hips so he was even deeper inside of her, relishing in the burn that came with his girth, her hand gripping his bicep through the welcomed pain. “It’d fucking better,” she ground out in frustration.

Killian smirked, watching her face contort with every inch of him that slid inside of her. There were not many people who could take an Alpha’s cock, not all of it anyway, but there were some, like Emma, who would revel in the pain, and he loved watching them take him in. No one though had taken quite so much as Emma. She was made differently it seemed, needed him it seemed, perfectly accommodating his girth and his length, getting wetter as he pushed his way in.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you, love?” Killian grinned wickedly, letting himself relax a little now that he was half way in. As much as he enjoyed being as close to Emma’s face as possible whilst she took him in, he knew that she was nearing her Beta threshold for him at this angle. Her body could only take so much, so after he saw her tell, when her brows knitted together in just such a way, he sat back, skimming his hands down her legs as he did.

The sound Emma made was intoxicating, her small nod his only answer. He wasn’t even entirely sure she had even heard him speak at first, but when he settled himself back on his heels and slipped from her core, she whined with the loss of him.

“What...what’s wrong?” Emma breathed, already halfway gone. Her eyes fluttered open and she struggled to focus on the Alpha between her legs.

Killian let his head roll to one side, lazily stroking his length that sat proudly in his hand. “Nothing,” he assured her with a smirk. “You just need a moment.”

“I didn’t earlier,” she winked, biting her finger coyly.

“You didn’t want my knot earlier,” Killian reminded her with a raised brow.

Emma sat up, shuffling back on the bed. “Hmm,” she hummed. Her foot found his leg, tracing a line up the inside of his thigh until she found the apex, the heel of it resting against his balls and her toes curling against his cock. "So, what your saying is there is more of you?" She bit her lip, kneading his length with her foot. "You have more to give?"

Her eyes were practically wide with glee at the mere thought of getting any more of the man in front of her. Of the Alpha. Killian knew she was trying to flatter him, and her foot tickling his cock didn't help him stay focused on the task at hand, which was making sure Emma fully understood what it meant to take all of him. He had met plenty of Beta women who thought they would be the one to take the whole Alpha cock, and he knew just as many, if not more Alphas who would boast about splitting a Beta wide open with their girth.

Killian moved his hand to her foot, halting her assault on his genitals, a move that offered him a pout from the blonde beauty before him. "What I'm saying, is, I've never given you all of me before."

"Selfish, Mr. Jones," Emma chided playfully.

"I'm not joking when I say it will hurt you, Emma, and that's the last thing I want." Killian watched the energy burn out from behind her eyes, his thumb brushing back and forth over the same patch of skin on her ankle in silent apology.

"You could never hurt me," Emma told him softly, a small smile accompanying her words. They were real, her flirtatiousness simmering just below the surface for now, and she gave him a small nod of agreement. "I know you, Killian, and you're a good man. What was it you told me the first time we did this?"

Killian frowned, confusion covering his face, so Emma out him out of his misery.

"You told me that the best thing to minimise my pain was an orgasm, and fuck, Killian, if you didn't make sure I was, how did you put it? 'Nice and wet', I think, were your words."

"You remember that?"

"Cringey, I know, but they were not a lie." Emma smiled at him, that genuine smile that he already knew she reserved just for him. "I don't think I've ever come so hard in all my life."

Killian gave her a wicked, sly grin, and tugged her leg, hard a fast, until she was sliding down the pillows and back into her original position with him between her legs. He gave his wrist a quick flick, pumping his length back into hardness at the sight of her legs falling open, the scent of her setting off his saliva glands and making him swallow hard.

"Would the lady like a repeat performance?" Killian growled, sliding his fingers through her folds to collect some of her nectar there.

It glistened on his fingers as he smeared it up and over her clit, the nerve hub screaming out when the cool air of the room hit it's scolding temperature. Emma craned her neck to see what he was doing to her, the slow drag of his hand up and down his cock making her shudder with excitement. She was ready to vibrate herself into non existence, her back arching off the bed when Killian slapped her clit with his erection once, twice, three times before she reached down, knocked Killian's hand aside, and slid his cock through the dampness below right to where she needed him the most.

"Fuck me-," Emma exhaled hard, slamming her head into the pillows behind her.

She had never guided anyone into herself before, unless he was made of silicone, and she let out a steady moan at the repeat sensation of Killian filling her up once more. At around half his length, he stopped, watching her intently for any sign of pain, until pulling almost all the way out and then slipping back into her. With every shallow thrust, Killian felt Emma relax a little more, even canting her hips in time with his and allowing him to slip in and over her g-spot a little bit quicker each time.

Killian could have used his tongue or even his hand, but he knew that with a little gentle persuasion, Emma body would and could bend to his will. She was ablaze, burning up from the inside out, and with every steadily increasing thrust came an equally elevated pitch in groans. Killian paused briefly to set her feet on his hips, restricting his entry to only a comfortable length whilst allowing him to quicken his pace and thus ensuring Emma remained unhurt. A quick, calculated move saw his thumb finding her clit, striking over the nerve bundle in time with his thrusts, watching, waiting for the telltale shake in Emma's thighs that signalled her release.

"Good girl," Killian soothed when Emma let out a moan. He increased his speed, short, shallow thrusts that stretched her in such a way that she cried out with near completion. "Such a delicious smelling cunt too, and you’re not even there yet."

“So close,” she breathed, her whole body twitching.

“You’re lovely, Emma, like this,” Killian praised, leaning forward and pressing his lips to her stomach. Her skin burned his but was instantly cooled by the thin layer of sweat that Emma’s body had created to try and cool the inferno hers was engulfed in. “For me,” he growled possessively into her navel.

“Only you,” Emma cried, so close to the edge she tried and failed to balance the level of her voice.

Killian had told himself over and over that her words would never have any effect on him, no matter what she might say, but Emma had a way of getting inside of his skin that he had never known before. Everything about her called the beast inside him, his baser instincts clawing their way closer to the surface with every sound she made or touch she made to his body. It wasn’t her intention to make him feel any of the things he was, he was sure of it, but damn if he wasn’t already addicted to everything about her.

“Kiss me,” Emma sighed, her voice so quiet that Killian wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. When she reached out for him, eyes closed and fingers extended to what lie beyond her open legs, grinning when she made contact with the soft fur of his stomach, a grin broke out over her perfect lips through hurried pants. “Kiss me, Killian, now!”

Her words were a demand, and usually not a turn on for him, but Killian found himself complying, dropping forward, bracing his hands on either side of her face and pressing his mouth to hers, open ever so slightly, tongues tasting, exploring, half of his cock still inside of her as Emma came undone beneath him. Her body spasmed, her thighs shaking and clamping to the side of his hips, feet hanging limply over the curve of his calves as Killian stroked her down from her high, whole hand massaging the length of her upper legs with a satisfied groan.

“Mmm,” Emma hummed contently. “I love being kissed when I come.”

“Duly noted,” Killian nodded, pushing himself back up and taking her in. Emma got more and more beautiful with every encounter, he was sure. “Although, if you want my knot,” he droned seductively, shuffling back until he pulled out of her and tried to ignore her whine of detest as he encouraged her to roll onto her stomach. “You’re going to need another one.”

Killian’s hands were on her back, massaging circles with just the right amount of force to make her shiver with every sweep of his talented fingers. In the little time he had known her, Killian had discovered that when Emma came, she came hard, so he figured a little relaxing but sensual massage between orgasms was justified. He kneaded the skin of her thighs, a little rougher than he had ever before because he knew she liked it that way, and rejoiced in the noises she made, half whimpering and half growling as she buried her face into the plush cushion.

“Stop,” she whined, her words muffled by the pillow.

Killian let out a hearty laugh that shook his whole body and had his cock bobbing against her plump, round arse. “You don’t mean that,” he chuckled, his voice gravelly and darkened by his own arousal. “Do you, love?” He teased, kissing between each bump of her spine until he reached its base, and content her nerves were heightened enough to make her shudder, ghosted his lips over the skin there with the promise of more.

Emma lifted her head when he paused. “Fuck, no.” She gave him a sultry glare over her shoulder, blonde hair slightly askew and fallen over her face.

“Good. Now,” Killian began through a grunt as he skimmed his hands over the curve of her hips, pressing firmly into her flesh and hoisting her arse into the air. Emma squealed excitedly and he couldn’t stop the throb of pleasure that overtook him again. “Present.”

Emma gulped hard, burying her face back into the pillow and making sure she was in the position Killian wanted, even if he had said this wasn’t about making him feel good, she still wanted to make him. She’d read things about Alphas, about how knotting was a personal thing and that they could control it, so if she wanted it, then she was willing to play her part in getting it.

Killian couldn’t help the snarl that audibly escaped his mouth when Emma wiggled her arse at him and when she moved her knees apart, and her scent hit him, he was even more gone. Emma was incredible, Beta or not, and he was finding it hard to contain his knot beneath his grip as he grabbed the base of his cock and willed it away. The last thing he wanted was a premature pop, and as if his body wasn’t his own, he found himself kneading one of the globes her arse with his free hand and licking his lips when her glistening nectar began to drip from her and gravitate towards the bed.

“Gods, love, you’re so, so wet,” he gulped, the last word catching in his throat. The only reply he got from Emma was another muffled hum of agreement, and when he slipped a greedy, exploratory finger through her silky folds and then to his lips, he immediately needed more.

Killian rearranged himself, scooting back until he was on all fours behind her and face to face with her dripping sex. A hand on each cheek spread her wider for him, his tongue wasting no time in diving in to taste what he had craved for most of the evening. She tasted like their earlier fuck, the coppery tang of blood where his girth had stretched her finding refuge on his tongue. Emma pushed back into his face, swaying her hips to try and gain some sort of increased friction, but Killian held her still with a firm grip on her hips, swallowing her down like a hungry wolf.

“Don’t move, sweetheart, I’m not done tasting you yet.”

Emma’s eyes rolled back in her head when his tongue found her again, the flat edge lapping over her clit with each swipe, the tip stiffening to delve into her centre immediately afterwards. Killian was certainly all about making her feel good, with both his actions and his words. Fuck, she had never experienced talk like it, such eroticism that had her wondering how much of it was real and how much of it was because he was being paid. Not that she cared because as Killian left her, cold air invading the parts he had lavished upon with his tongue, her whine of anguish was rewarded with the tip of him pressing into her once more.

“Oh, fuck,” she sang through gritted teeth.

When he was halfway into her again, Killian paused and let her relax to his size. “Emma?” He coaxed, rubbing the small of her back through her groan and holding her steady as she tried to push back onto him. “Love?”

“Yes?” She didn’t even recognise the pleasure induced hiss that left her mouth as her own voice.

“You’ll let me know if I hurt you, won’t you?” Killian’s voice had changed, miraculously kind and unlike any other Alpha in this position. Closer to his rut, instinct would have taken over and would have had him buried to the hilt inside of her, pushing to fill her with his seed, like all Alphas craved. The fact that he was able to control his need surprised even him because Emma was a specimen to behold and he wasn’t sure how long he could actually last now that she was wet, primed and wanton in front of him, begging for his knot. “Please, say it.”

“Yes,” Emma sighed in a daze. “Please...just...don't stop.”

Killian hadn’t even realised his plea was out loud until Emma nodded into the pillow tucked under her chin and let out a silent, orgasmic scream as she inched back onto his length guided by his hands. She was ready and she wanted him, knot and all, and in the exact moment the wiry hairs on his stomach brushed against the smooth, pert skin of her behind, Killian knew Graham could take his contract and shove it right up his wannabe Alpha arse.

“Fuck,” Killian hissed, dragging a clawed hand down her spine as gently as he could muster with her heat enveloping the whole of him. “Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he grunted in a quaking voice. He felt dizzy, the room spinning, and he leaned forward and rested his forehead to her back to steady himself. “Fuck, you take my cock so well,” he repeated with a sly grin that he pressed to her skin for a rewarding kiss.

Emma had no words, just her body, so she clenched her muscles to jumpstart him back into action. Their limited window to be together was closing, and she’d be damned if she was letting Killian go without getting what he had promised. Emma leaned forward, arching her back and grinding herself back onto Killian length with a content sigh, the first few thrusts really opening her up all the way to her insides, but the few that followed were more comfortable. Killian let her set the pace, watching as his cock disappeared inside of her with every bob, her breath leaving her lungs every time he bottomed out inside of her, pulling his knot back to the surface where it threatened to pop once more.

“Killian, I…,” Emma panted, her movements back into his length becoming erratic at best.

“It’s alright, love,” Killian soothed, helping her onto all fours and nudging her legs even further apart with his knees. “Just let go,” he bid, taking over her movements and setting a new pace that had her toes curling. “I’ve got you,” he promised.

She was close, he could tell, and if there was any way he was going to be able to last, he needed to make sure that they came together. Killian skimmed his hands over her back again, her porcelain skin shimmering in the darkness as he hooked his hands over her shoulders and pulled her back onto his length, ending each thrust with a powerful snap of his hips. Emma gasped but he’d heard it before and knew it wasn’t in pain, just the sound she made as she scaled the heights of her own pleasure, and he wanted more.

Killian grit his teeth, jaw muscles clenched so tightly he thought he might crack one at any moment, but in the split second it took him to wrap his hand around Emma’s hair, bunching it into a loose ponytail in his fist and changing the angle of his hips, she was coming, shaking uncontrollably as he pounded into her the last few times before, coated in her juices that seemed endless, Killian’s knot exposed itself and he cried out, pushing it into her deliciously welcoming core.

The second he was inside of her he felt panic, not because he had so brazenly flaunted Humbert’s contract, but because the way Emma’s muscles massaged his length and coaxed out his own release, something he has convinced himself he could forego but had been helpless to avoid.

“Don’t come in my wife.”

Graham’s words echoed in his head, which was still spinning from Emma, as intoxicating as she was. She collapsed and let out a cry of pain when he fell on top of her, eager to not hurt her more by pulling out his knot too soon.

“Easy, love,” Killian said softly, though his voice was a little shaky. “Lie still.”

He managed to get them onto their side, tucking Emma’s legs up to her chest as far as she was comfortable with and delicately trailing his hand over her shivering shoulders. On closer inspection her whole body was quivering, her skin slightly damp and her scent had changed too. It was puzzling, feral in nature and something that Killian was sure he was imagining. When Emma pressed herself into him, her shoulder blades sticking to the slight dampness of his chest hair, she smiled and hummed, the sound vibrating right through them.

“How do you feel?” Killian worried. He couldn’t help it. His Alpha self was screaming out to care, to nurture and to protect, even though he was probably the one causing her most harm right now. “Are you alright?”

“Mmmmmm,” Emma hummed again, moving her head so Killian could rest his arm down underneath it. She replaced her head on his arm, interlocked their fingers, and pressed her lips to his bicep.

“Is that good?” Killian smirked, squeezing her fingers.

He knew he felt good, Gods above, she made him feel things he never had before. Better than good, in fact. Emma had a way of making him forget every one of his woes and why he had taken this job in the first place. He couldn’t think of anywhere else he would have rather been in that moment, wrapped up and knot deep inside of the beautiful woman who hadn’t just captured his heart, but had held it out, vulnerable and fragile, and hadn’t taken advantage of the fact, gracious enough to only take the love she thought she deserved, even if Killian knew she was worth far more than she had ever been led to believe before.

“It’s good,” Emma nodded, nuzzling into the crook of his elbow and bending his arm until she could kiss his fingers joins with his. She let her lips linger, enjoying the way he tasted when she let his arm fall back down to the bed and her tongue swept across her bottom lip.

“You’re comfortable?” Killian fretted, but that just earned him a swat from her free hand.

“Will you stop? Killian, I’m fine. More than fine,” she beamed, enjoying the way her muscles still fluttered because of his invading knot.

“What’s more than fine?” Killian teased, nuzzling into her hair that had fallen over her shoulders and kissing her neck.

His question threw her for a second because she struggled to find the correct words to accurately describe what she felt. It might have been love, but Emma wasn’t sure she had ever known that before. It felt good, she knew that much, but was more than lust. A comfortable silence fell over them, wherein Killian busied himself with fluffing the sheet over the top of them whilst making sure he moved the absolutely smallest amount, so as not to cause her any undue pain. Emma felt her lips curve into a beaming smile and reached behind her, threading her fingers in his hair and holding his face back to her neck where he peppered her with more kisses.

“This,” Emma cooed. “This is perfect.”

Killian couldn’t have agreed more. His hand slipped under the sheet and over her ribcage, his forearm settling under her breasts as he pulled her to his chest even harder, reluctant to let her go. He shifted his legs a little, trying to tangle them around hers, but the movement made Emma wince and stiffen in his arms.

“Love?” Killian asked concerned.

“I’m okay,” Emma told him softly, stroking his forearms in reassurance. “Just a little,-”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Killian whispered into her hair. He kissed the back of her head and hooked a hand under her knee, moving it closer to her chest and relieving some of the tearing sensations she was feeling at her entrance. “It won’t be much longer,” he assured her, never wanting his knot to recede so he could hold her like this forever.

“I promise I’m okay,” Emma smiled, pecking his hairy forearm with a kiss. “I wanted this. It’s not that bad, just…”

“Just what, love?” Killian smirked, craning his neck to watch a blush bloom out over her cheeks and his hands explored further up her thigh to where they were joined.

“It feels so good,” Emma began but the last word caught in her throat when Killian’s fingers brushed around her entrance, the still hypersensitive nerves pounding with blood and excitement of his touch. She was inexplicably wet, still so very wet, and she felt his smirk turn into a full blown smile as he nudged his nose into the skin behind her ear at his discovery of her juices coating her inner thigh.

“So I can feel,” Killian teased with a dark tone that had a shiver rattling down her spine. He nudged his hips forward and made sure he was inside of her even deeper than before, his hand gripping her inner thigh so tightly he was worried he might blemish her skin. “Gods, you’re amazing,” he growled, inhaling her scent. “You’re going to keep me hard for hours.”

Emma gasped when he pushed deeper, the nerves inside of her core igniting, synapsing firing and a new wave of lubrication seeping from their join. She pinched her eyes closed, white dots sparkling behind her eyelids, another orgasm seemingly just beyond the horizon of anything she had known before. Killian, knot and all, rock solid inside of her was enough for her body to react again, even without the friction of his thrusts, and when his hand explored between her folds, it was just too much.

“I can’t come again,” Emma whined, her own words foreign in her ears. Not that she could even hear anything but the high pitched buzz of a pending release, the build up alone rendering her deaf. Her head fell back onto his chest and Killian just grinned against her skin, scraping his teeth over the curve of her shoulder joint when he finally found her clit.

“Yes, you can,” Killian commanded, circling an essence covered finger over her clit, softly at first. “The sounds you make, the way your body falls apart, Emma-,” Killian growled her name through clenched teeth and she felt her stomach fall away when his hips ground into her.

“Keep talking,” Emma whimpered, holding his hand between her legs where his fingers were deftly stroking her clit up and down, nudging the bundle from side to side and making her squeal.

“Fuck,” Killian grunted, increasing his pace. “The way you smell when you come all over me, like sweetness and redemption.” Her hand gripped harder at his wrist, but he just moved his hand faster, wishing there was more of him to give her. “The way I make that happen-,”

“Sweet fucking Christ, Killian, I’m gonna come!”

Emma went rigid in his arms, every muscle in her entire body contracting at the same time. Even her lungs stopped working and she couldn’t breathe, Killian’s hand on her stomach over her diaphragm the only thing that was helping her to remember to inhale. He held her tightly, wave after wave of pleasure crashing through her, her body fighting the bulge of his muscles as he wrapped her in his arms and let her writhe against his knot. He could feel her muscles, featherlite flutters against the whole length of him, massaging the bulbs of his knot with every spasm in time with her heart beating at one hundred miles an hour in her chest.

The weight in her eyelids lifted, the blurring in her vision clearing and she could suddenly breathe again, the burning sensation in her lungs ceasing. When her hearing returned all she could make out was Killian laughing, his proud sounding chuckle vibrating through both of them as he bundled her up in his arms once more and crushed his lips to the side of her slightly sweaty face. She laughed with him, pure, unadulterated joy rumbling from deep down in her belly that had him wishing she could love him in the same way he now knew he loved her.

Oh fuck.

“Now, it’s perfect,” Killian smirked, tucking them back up in the sheet.

#the contract #alpha!killian #emma swan #graham humbert #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o #abo dynamics #ch 4 #cs ff #cs au #cs fanfic #cs au fic #cs fic