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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year

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a/n: okay so chapter three of this might be up before ten of ciwyw simply because i'm excited about it and it's already like halfway done. i'm sorry if this is disappointing news BUT i promise it's a really really good chapter with delicious content. love u, thank you for reading <3

rowaelin // 5.6k words // skoh masterlist // masterlist

“I wish I could tell you guys about this bullshit, but it’s fucking classified,” Aelin hissed into the cell phone she had sandwiched between her ear and shoulder. To their credit, Elide and Lysandra tried to disguise their laughter on the other end, but it came back muffled all the same. The two were drunk on a beach somewhere in Ellywe, and it showed.

Everyone knew that Aelin joining the Cadre would be a disaster one way or another. When the idea was proposed to her, she turned it down. Three different times. The bad blood with Rowan flowed so deep that she didn’t care about an increase in pay or the less boring missions that came along with it. Truthfully, she would rather be lost in the Staghorns somewhere with Aedion’s unit or back in the desert with the one that showed up to take over for the Cadre.

Yet when Darrow approached her with the idea a fourth time, stressing how much they needed an extra person, she caved. The claims that she was the only person fit for the job had gone to her head a little bit, and it was biting her in the ass. He had even brought in her Uncle Gavriel to talk to her about going. The bastard knew that it would sway her, and it had worked. Now that this mission required them to be married, she was pretty sure it had been in the works for a little longer than they knew, and convincing Aelin to join them was the final piece of the puzzle.

Currently, she was quickly washing her hands in a bathroom at the Rifthold International Airport. The flight had been sixteen hours, and she was desperate for a bath that didn’t require body wipes to make her smell decent. The boys were probably waiting for her, but she didn’t care. Rare was it that she could use her personal phone to call her friends, and godsdammit, she was going to take advantage.

“Is he still an ass?” Lysandra asked as Aelin ripped a few paper towels from the dispenser to dry her hands.

“Of course he is. He has the nerve to act like he’s the one that was scorned! As if I didn’t fight tooth and nail for our relationship to work until the physical and emotional distance was too much to deal with.” She huffed as she poked her bags with her boot, fingers pulling her braid over her shoulder just to have something to do with her hands.

“I mean, you have to come to some sort of truce to make it work,” Elide piped in, crunching sounds filling the space between words while she snacked.

“I know. Gods, I know. It’s just harder than I thought it would be.” Aelin sighed, her chest decompressing as several women scurried into and out of stalls around her. “I should go.”

“Where are you, anyway?” Lys asked.

“I can’t say, but I can allude that I’m closer to home.”

“Can you get a normal job? You coming on vacations would be fun.” Elide’s sad-drunk tendencies were starting to peek through, making Aelin smile.

“If Rowan doesn’t kill me first, I might end my active-duty career as soon as possible after this shit is done.” It was only half a joke. Being this close to Rowan was already far more taxing than she imagined. If anything, she thought they might ignore each other and carry on with their jobs like responsible adults. Sure, she knew her old wounds were tender at best, but the explosive tension was slightly unexpected.

The three muttered their goodbyes as she hefted her bags onto her shoulders and filed out of the bathroom, immediately spotting Lorcan and Rowan’s heads towering over everyone else near the exit to baggage claim. Aelin forced her shoulders back and stood straight as she could.

Approaching Rowan was a battle of its own sort. She had to be ready for a fight constantly. There was just no way of telling if she was walking straight into the line of fire or not.

~*~

The house they would be living in was beautiful. It was a large estate sitting on the cleaner side of the Avery River, nestled back in a little grove of oak trees. A large iron gate kept any outsiders from easily getting onto the property, but it was so far off any main road that they didn’t anticipate trespassers being much of a problem.

Not that it really mattered– every inch of the land surrounding the house was under twenty-four-seven surveillance that they could watch from inside. The day before, a tech team had come in to set up all the equipment they would need for quick and secure communication with their superiors. Though the equipment they used was always the best the Terrasen government had to offer, it was always a little more fun to use when stationed in a big city.

Though the house had six bedrooms, they quickly learned during the initial walk-through that three were being used for mission-related activities. One room comprised a large desk and about a dozen monitors for surveillance; another had enough desk space for all six of them with room to spare, and the third was primarily for communication. It was filled with phones and computers connected to a highly secure network that, in theory, was breach-proof.

That left three rooms for the six of them to divvy into, and Aelin tried to cut the corners of arguing with who was sleeping where by quickly voicing her own option.

“I’ll room with Fenrys. Lorcan and Rowan can share and–”

“No.” Rowan’s response was immediate and flat. A single eyebrow quirked up as she slowly pivoted on one heel to look at him. His eyes, however, were on Fenrys. It had been years, and apparently, their casual affection was still grating on his nerves like soft cheese.

“No?” She questioned, arms folding over her chest. Rowan slid his gaze to her face as the others took a few casual steps away as if they would rather be anywhere but in the middle of their divorced parent’s fight.

“No.” The word was harder, more final this time.

“Fine, you and me then?” She threw a hand in the air for sarcastic flair and laughed sardonically. Surely he would drop his weapons and retreat with arms raised, but he didn’t. It surprised everyone in the room, herself more than the rest.

“Fine.” Shock washed over her in a static wave, running across her body like an electrical current. Everything buzzed from her fingers to her toes as he told no one in particular, “We get the master.”

Nobody was going to disagree with his claim. The two of them needed as much space between them as possible. With all the tension and white-hot energy, they could hardly share a room for meetings, much less a bed. Mala must have boiled his brain to sludge during their stay in the desert. He clearly wasn’t thinking things through.

She was further surprised when he yanked both their bags off the floor where they’d dumped them upon entry and headed toward the north wing of the house. Aelin glanced at Lorcan, hoping he would have something to say on the matter, but he shrugged and grabbed his own bags, shouting that Vaughan was with him as he did. Fenrys, at least, looked as confused as she felt.

“Have fun with… whatever the fuck that was,” Connall told her, the three remaining men collecting their bags from the floor.

“You really put your foot in your mouth this time, didn’t you, babe?” Fen drawled, ruffling her hair and following his brother.

“You’re all traitors!” She called as they dispersed, leaving her to begrudgingly march toward the room Rowan had claimed for them. Their low chuckles followed her down the hall, and she was pretty fucking sure she even heard Lorcan laughing with them.

When she reached the master bedroom, she was pleasantly surprised at the size of it. A king-size bed was centered against one wall, each side with its own lamps and nightstands. The large bay window on the right side had a bench perfect for reading in if she ever found herself with downtime. There were two doors to the left of the bed. One led to a large bathroom with a shower and a huge bathtub that she would most definitely be soaking in soon. The other was a walk-in closet that rivaled the one she had at home.

It was also where she found Rowan.

Each side of the closet had plenty of drawers and space for hanging clothes and a dozen or so cubbies scattered about. Rowan stood to one side, unpacking his clothes and placing them into drawers. She pretended she didn’t notice that he had chosen the left side– the same as when they lived together.

Aelin followed suit, kneeling on the floor by her bag and dividing things amongst her drawers. Since they were in need of civilian attire for the mission, she would be going out to purchase new things sometime tomorrow before the real work began. For now, she just wanted a shower and a nap.

Rowan had slipped out moments before she was finished. Once satisfied with her portion of the closet, she entered the bedroom to find him peering through the curtains, eyes scanning the backyard. He didn’t seem to notice her, or if he did, he chose to say nothing. Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her arms around her body and steeled herself for another fight.

“Is it okay if I shower first?”

“Yep.” His fingers released the curtain, and it slipped shut, the sheer fabric not doing much to shield them from the outside world. Aelin made a mental note to get some blackout curtains tomorrow, both for safety and to keep the early morning sun out when she had the luxury of sleeping past five am.

“Are you sure?” For once, she wasn’t pushing to get on his nerves. If he wanted the bathroom to himself first, she would allow it if it meant no verbal sparring.

“I already said yes, Aelin.” The edge of his words was sharp and short as a brand-new dagger. So much for not fighting.

“You don’t get to do this.” She blurted, fingers gripping her shirt tightly.

“I don’t get to do what, exactly?” Rowan looked at her then, eyebrows slightly raised and shoulders tense. At his sides, his hands were rolling up into fists.

“Be pissy about our sleeping arrangements when you’re the one that booted out my perfectly good option.”

“You were doing it to fuck with me, and I’m not giving you the satisfaction,” he said calmly, taking up a casual fighting stance: feet shoulder-width apart, arms folded over his chest, muscles coiled and ready to strike.

“I was doing it because I highly doubt the other three would want to catch me in any state of undress accidentally, and only me and Connall can handle Fenrys full time,” she shot back. Her fingernails dug into the skin beneath her shirt like they would sew her up if she fell apart. The tendons in Rowan’s neck were visible, hard lines. If she were closer, she would probably be able to see his pulse pounding against his skin. “I don’t know why you think I’m just here to fuck up your life. I didn’t even want this job to begin with.”

Hating that she was the first to retreat, she walked to the closet to gather what she would need for her shower. Footsteps followed her, stopping in the doorway as Rowan asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Which part?” Aelin plucked a pair of boring cotton underwear from the drawer.

“That you didn’t want this job.” Selecting a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, she turned to face him with her facial expression calling him ten kinds of stupid.

“It means that I didn’t want this fucking job.” Maybe she drew out every word a little more slowly on purpose to needle beneath his skin. The feathering of his jaw said it worked.

“I understood that part.” He sounded frustrated, his fingernails white where they pressed into his biceps. “You didn’t ask for the transfer?”

“I turned it down three times. In the last few weeks, Darrow was up my ass about it. Even had Uncle Gav try to convince me, so I caved. Did you think I asked for this to come rain a special kind of hell down on your head?”

“I wouldn’t put past you,” he retorted, and something in her broke. Just a little bit.

“Contrary to whatever bullshit you’ve made up about me to craft me into your villain, I was perfectly content to never see you again. I don’t want to work with you, I don’t want to share a single molecule of oxygen with you, and I don’t want to constantly be ready to fight with you at the drop of a hat. This isn’t what I wanted for my career or my personal life. I’m here because I took an oath to protect my country, and despite my multiple refusals, they wanted me here with this unit.” Aelin shoved past him, her shoulder ramming into his arms as she did. “Do us both a favor and get over yourself, Rowan. This self-centered bullshit is exactly why I fucking left you.”

Though she hadn’t meant to be quite so dramatic, the bathroom door slammed in his face when she closed it. The sickly feeling of guilt washed over her at the look on his face. That last hateful sentence wasn’t even supposed to be said out loud. Did she even mean it?

Aelin didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she finally heard his footsteps retreat from the room and a heavy exhale whooshed from her lungs.

~*~

“Aelin, I–” His hands reached for her, but she smacked them away hard enough that it stung his palms.

“No, no, no. I told you a thousand times if you took another deployment, I was done. And there is just no–” Aelin let out a gasping sob, one hand on her heart and the other wrapped around her torso. Unable to stop himself, he tried to pull her to him. If he could just calm her down, it would be okay.

Before his fingers could even graze her skin, she stumbled backward. A gust of wind had rain blowing at him from behind. He wasn’t sure if his face was wet with tears from his eyes or the sky.

“Baby–” The back of Aelin’s wrist pressed to her mouth and did nothing to muffle the sob. Knowing he was the source of her pain had him wishing for a lightning strike.

“There is no coming back from this.” The words were almost carried away in the storm. Not once had he ever heard her speak so softly, so broken. Tears streamed down her cheeks and neck, soaking the collar of her t-shirt while she shook her head and pointed for him to leave with a shaky finger. Her other hand was still pushing her heart back into her chest. “There is no coming back.”

The front door slammed in his face and triggered a final fissure in his heart that had his heart and soul shattering into a million jagged pieces on the rain-soaked ground.

A firm hand on his shoulder made him jerk forward, twisting on his heel. A soldier through and through, he started to go on the defensive. Just as he reached for his attacker, he realized it was Lorcan and dropped his hands, shaking his head to clear his mind of the memory.

Lorcan’s eyebrows knit together in confusion as he said, “I said your name twice.”

“Sorry. What’s up?” Rowan hadn’t meant to be so wrapped up in his thoughts as he stood on the back porch. A mirror image of the gloomy gray sky reflected on the surface of the swimming pool. The sound of the door slamming in his face still echoed in his ears, but he didn’t know if it was the past or present that haunted him. Probably both.

“I want to go over what needs to be done this week,” Lorcan told him, nodding toward the house. Through the windows, he could see everyone lounging on the couches and chairs that made up the formal living room. Each of them held a folder; Aelin’s was in her lap, where she curled up in the corner of the couch. Deft fingers twined her damp hair into a braid over her shoulder. Lorcan’s eyes followed his gaze as he braced his hands on his hips. “Do you need to talk about it before we go in?”

“I don’t know what there is to say.”

“Look, I am by no means any sort of authority on relationships, but the fact that you two can barely be in the same room without starting a fight shows how deep it all goes. You sure as fuck aren’t over it–” Lorcan gave him a stern look when he opened his mouth to object, then continued, “And neither is she. You can both act like you don’t care, but you do. At some point, an olive branch needs to be extended one way or the other. Otherwise, it will stack up to messy mistakes in the field and you’ll both drag everyone else down with you. I can’t allow that. So find a truce. Wave your white flag if you fucking have to. Talk about it. Fuck it out. I don’t care. But don’t let it compromise the job.”

Rowan nodded, hands sliding into his pockets as he took a deep breath. All of those things were easier said than done. If they were ever going to talk it out, they would both have to come to some peace with the past and present. Right now, he wasn’t sure how to do that. His behavior had clearly torn into her with a jagged blade, the same way her leaving him did. Both had raw, gaping wounds that were still bloody from the battle. The time apart had done nothing to heal either of them. If anything, it made it worse.

There wasn’t ever supposed to be so much distance, time, or emotion stretched between them, to begin with. Rowan could strut around like he didn’t care all he wanted to, but he did care. Looking at her made it hard to breathe.

“Did you ever, at any point in your relationship, tell her about what happened to Lyria?” Lorcan asked, just as Rowan took a step toward the house. His teeth snapped together so hard that it hurt, narrowly missing a bite of his tongue. “Maybe start there.”

“I don’t think it would matter at this point.”

“Not that I don’t think she’s a swaggering asshole ninety-nine percent of the time or anything–” Rowan snorted, looking back at Aelin through the window. She was looking back. “– But she isn’t a bitch. Not all the time, anyway.”

Part of him wanted to throttle Lorcan for talking about her that way, but their personalities had always been mixing oil and water. Even still, Lorcan would never hold his personal relationship against her. She was far too good of an asset.

“Can I ask something of you?” Rowan inquired, restlessly scratching the back of his neck. His eyes didn’t leave Aelin’s, and she tilted her head curiously. Almost as if, despite their fight, she was trying to inquire if he was okay.

“Of course.” Rowan sidestepped out of view, not wanting her to read his lips as he looked at his commander. Lorcan leaned against the table that decorated the patio, an open and caring demeanor slipping into place.

“If anything on this mission goes sideways, if it ever comes down to a split second when it has to be her or me… I don’t care if it’s a temporary thing where you come back for me later or we’re both bleeding out somewhere, whatever the situation is. If shit goes down and it’s her or me, you take her.” Green eyes bore fiercely into onyx ones. Lorcan’s eyes widened in surprise and something that looked a little like fear.

“Rowan…” He wasn’t one to leave a man behind, but Rowan knew all too well that sometimes it became a necessary call to make. When forced with a split-second decision about who lived or died, the luxury of time to juggle your choices didn’t always exist. This oath would take the struggle out of it.

“Promise me that you will get her out first.” He hated the way his voice cracked like the fissures in his heart. Hated that he was prepared to fall to his knees and beg if it might save her life at any point in the future. Yet he knew that he would if Lorcan refused. The bad terms he and Aelin were on didn’t matter. Rowan would never forgive himself or his comrades if he woke up and something had happened to her. “Promise me, Lorcan.”

He wished he could tell himself it was for selfish reasons. That he was asking to clear his conscience should it ever become a reality. Deep down, he knew it had nothing to do with that, though. It had nothing to do with guilt and everything to do with her and the wildfire of unresolved feelings that haunted his waking and sleeping hours.

Rowan tried to get over her. Attempting to lose himself through sex with other women had been a fruitless endeavor. No amount of boiling showers had made him feel clean, like any level of intimacy with someone that wasn’t Aelin left behind an oily residue he couldn’t wash away. After the third time, he quit trying. It felt too much like cheating on her, like betraying her, even if she had been the one to leave him.

He had followed her career over the last two and a half years. Though she had passed on another deployment when she thought he would too, months after the breakup, he heard she was back in it. Lorcan had passed him details of her missions, and Rowan had a mental list of every injury she had ever received. Nothing had been remotely close to life-threatening, but he felt every one of those wounds like they’d happened to him. It had been difficult not to follow up with her directly to see if she was okay, but she was better off without him. Of that, he was certain.

Being part of the same unit, he would do whatever he could to protect her. It hadn’t surprised Lorcan when Rowan declared he would always choose her first the morning she arrived. The commander made him swear that it wouldn’t compromise any missions, and it wouldn’t. But for Rowan, if the choice were anyone else or Aelin, he would save Aelin first. Now he needed to be sure someone else would choose her over him.

“Okay. I promise,” Lorcan finally swore, his eyes saying that he hoped for all the world it never came down to it.

When they made their way inside, there were two seats available. One was smack dab between Aelin and Fenrys; the other was an overstuffed chair near the window. Rowan knew for a fact that the two blondes had been sitting side by side moments earlier and knew that one or both of them had done this on purpose. They lived in a constant state of scheming and had been driving Rowan insane from the moment their friendship began.

Lorcan hijacked the chair, which left Rowan to drop onto the sofa between Bonnie and Clyde. He swore the commander was fighting off his smirk while settling into the chair away from the drama. Bastards. All of them were bastards. It was starting to feel like everyone had been part of a private meeting on the best ways to drive Rowan insane with Aelin around.

“Here,” Aelin said softly, nudging his arm with a folder. Nodding his thanks, he flipped it open and began skimming the pages while Lorcan got into what the next few days would look like. Every breath he took was more shallow than it needed to be, but he would lose his mind if he inhaled deep enough to smell her jasmine shampoo.

He tried to focus on Lorcan’s words, but sitting beside Aelin was a distraction in itself. The promise their commander had just made soothed a small part of his chest, even if he thought she would throttle him if she ever found out about it. The woman beside him was more than capable of taking care of herself, yes, but Rowan needed that security blanket to fall back on if things went to hell.

Aelin nudged him with her elbow, and he blinked, looking into her quizzical gaze. It was strange to find a hint of concern hidden behind the brilliant band of gold around her iris. With a shake of his head, he looked at the folder in his lap and tuned his ears to Lorcan’s voice. Right. Now was definitely not the time to think about this.

They would start by surveilling the notorious Glass Castle. It was imperative they find out how easily the outside guards could be distracted and bribed. While they had inside contacts close to the prince working with them under extremely delicate conditions, they needed to see if anyone was willing to waver. Finding the weak links could lead to it all being over before an assassination attempt began.

The Prince’s closest and really only friend was his captain of the guard. Through their contacts, he agreed to work with them on the castle’s blueprints and help them however he could. If everything went smoothly, nobody would die, lose their jobs, or be accused of treason, and in the process, their president would be safe from the fallout.

“We need to take passport photos in the morning, and someone is coming by tomorrow afternoon to stage some pictures of our Duke and Duchess over here.” Rowan and Aelin’s heads both snapped up at neck-breaking speed.

“What?” Rowan said, eyes darting to Aelin. There was no way in hell she would be okay with this.

“All of the royals in Fenharrow have websites,” she answered for Lorcan. “Do I get to wear a pretty gown?”

“You’ll wear whatever shows up, and you won’t give anybody any shit about it,” was the commander’s flat response. Aelin’s smoldering gaze told him she would do as she pleased, but her eyes wandered back down to the pages in her lap. If the wardrobe weren’t to her taste, they would surely hear about it no matter what Lorcan said.

“Box dye is going to absolutely ruin our hair.” Rowan didn’t know anything about that. According to his passport, he had blonde hair and brown eyes. Curiosity got the better of him, and he leaned a little toward Aelin to see what hers said. With a flick of her wrist, it was turned toward him so he could see better. Red hair, green eyes. Rowan had a hard time imagining it.

“Are you going to complain the whole time?” Lorcan snapped. Aelin, to her credit, grinned.

“Maybe. It’s fun getting under everyone’s skin so easily.”

It felt like a jab with one of the daggers she favored. A quick stab into his back, the twist of the blade as it sunk deeper. Rowan sat up straight and tried to keep from crumpling the papers in his hands.

It might not be an outright bloody war, but every vaguely altruistic word that left her mouth made him tenser than any gunfight ever did.

~*~

A book lay open upon the pillow in her lap, eyes skimming the pages when Rowan soundlessly opened the door and slipped into their room. He was clearly hoping she would be asleep when he came to bed to avoid any awkward interactions or heated arguments. Aelin was too tired for anything beyond a few pulled punches tonight and closed her book. The t-shirt he wore was pulled over his head in a single, fluid motion, and he slipped between the sheets. After placing her nightly read on the bedside table, she snuggled under the blankets. Rowan was on his back staring at the fan when she turned her light off. Aelin lay on her side, facing him straight on.

“This is… weird,” he admitted as the air deflated from his lungs in a deep sigh.

“Sleeping together or, however fake it may be, being married to me when you never wanted it in the first place?” Aelin wasn’t sure why flames kept spewing out of her mouth every time they spoke. Closure was what she was after, yet she knew it wouldn’t come this way. It was more of a defense mechanism than anything else.

“We aren’t doing this tonight, Aelin. I’m tired.” Rowan rolled onto his side, facing away from her, hand smacking at his pillow before he settled against it.

Through the dim moonlight slipping through those sheer curtains, she could make out the scars on his back. Some she knew, others she didn’t. Without thinking, she reached out and touched one she didn’t recognize. Rowan’s inhale was sharp, shoulders expanding and muscles tightening beneath her fingers. As tense as he was, his body betrayed him in the form of goose flesh over his skin.

“Rowan?” Aelin must have been imagining his jagged breaths. It sounded too much like shredding self-control to be real.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry. For today, I’m sorry.” Doused in a burning tension, she traced her fingers over another pale scar on his back. Tears pricked her eyes over the featherlight touches she made, at the emotion that welled up in her throat. This sort of casual intimacy used to be second nature. Aelin hated that her fingers craved to touch more of him, all of him. They never thought about touching before; they just always were. It had once been necessary, vital even. Now he was a coiled asp ready to strike, waiting for the fighting words she couldn’t find.

“Okay,” he finally whispered back on an exhale.

“I didn’t mean to slam the door, either. I know you won’t believe me, but I–”

“I do believe you.” Her throat was suddenly tight as she swallowed, dropping her hand from his back. Sometime soon, she would ask how he got those new markings. Maybe Fenrys would have the answers if her cowardice won over and she couldn’t ask him herself.

“Okay,” she parroted, the word muffled by the blanket as she pulled it up and tucked her face into it.

Seconds stretched into minutes before he rolled onto his back, head turning to face her. With her eyes more adjusted to the dark, she could tell he was looking at her. They didn’t say anything, just took each other in. It was the first quiet moment they’d shared since her arrival. Somehow, the heaviness of this moment was far more abundant than the times they were yelling.

“Were you talking about me when you said it’s fun to get under our skin?”

“I’ve always liked getting under your skin,” she teased, but he didn’t smile. Aelin’s own faltered, mouth twisted to the side as she considered it. Yes, she had. “It is fun but… I didn’t mean it quite how it sounded. I haven’t been picking fights with you the last few days for shits and giggles. I’m sure you aren’t doing it for that reason either.”

It’s what she wanted to believe, anyway. Perhaps it made her naive, but she knew Rowan. Even if they hated each other, they didn’t like causing the other unnecessary pain.

“Why are we fighting then?” The bald vulnerability he gave had her mouth parting in surprise. Of all the ways she saw this first night going, a calm discussion was nowhere on the list. Murder definitely was, but this?

“I don’t think we know how to be around each other like this,” she said slowly. “We had moments of bickering when we first met, sure, but…”

The words she wanted to say would strip her a little more bare than she wanted to be, yet she wasn’t ready to let the moment go. Rowan saw her hesitation and waited patiently, eyes scanning her face as though he could sneak into her mind and steal the thoughts for himself. Tomorrow the fires would rage again but for tonight? Tonight she would settle close to the truth without laying it all at his feet.

“But?” Aelin sighed and shook her head.

“We’ve always been intense,” she shrugged a shoulder. “Now that we aren’t in love, I guess it’s just going to be in the form of verbal sparring and screaming matches. Maybe a few physical blows during training.”

Aelin averted her eyes, slipping her fingers out from beneath the blanket to inspect her nails. It probably looked as stupid as it felt, considering she could hardly see, but Rowan didn’t call her on it. Nor did he point out how unlike her it was to balk from a conversation, yet here she was, being a coward and avoiding his gaze. It was a half-truth wrapped up in a teasing taunt at best and clearly not the answer he sought.

It wasn’t fair that he still had her tied up in so many knots. For years she paraded around, pretending she was over it and it didn’t matter anymore. Not being in love with Rowan was one of the biggest lies she’d ever told, one she whispered to herself every time she found him looking at her. It was a foolish, stupid mask she wore to hide the pain of the ugly, bleeding truth of everything.

Rowan handled it better than she did, and it hurt more than she would ever admit.

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riverswater · 5 months

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ohh i wanna know about the scene you'd write the abusive louis (love that guy) fic for! pretty please? your brain has the best ideas

Re: this ^

Harry/Louis, 1.4k words. Tw for general abusive relationship crappiness and thoughts of domestic violence

The sheets are soft under him – washed the day before. Jasmin and white musk. The taste on his tongue is pleasurable as well, sharp mint. A grumble rises next to him. Louis doesn’t turn around, doesn’t play out his part. No point in it: the room is dark, Harry is drunk. Drank five cocktails and an unspecified number of shots, and Louis knows his boyfriend is not a smart guy, but sometimes he wonders what his goal is. Louis never brings him home with careful touches or gentle words, not anymore, Harry must know by now. But, still, he gets intoxicated to the point where he is a danger to himself, and Louis has to leave the party early. Play the part in front of other people. Human mask on, Louis mask on. Whoever that is, he dislikes him as well. Spineless, helpful, loyal. Boring.

He’s sitting with his back to the wall, and he is bored. He will leave the room as soon as Harry dozes out, maybe could leave now, already, while he still whines and turns around, foul breath and sweaty skin, but Louis doesn’t want the risk of him vomiting in his sleep or something. That would be boring, too. He’s not done with him.

Once he’s out, he’ll call Zayn, maybe, or maybe he’ll just hit the town. Saw a guy, the other day: tall, blonde. Slender. His number is still untouched. He could–

“What did you say?”

The room is silent. The air still.

“I–” Harry splutters, wails, sighs. He doesn’t turn to face him, but he curls on himself, pushing his back closer to Louis’s legs. Louis instinctively moves his limbs back. Harry is sick, he always is after a party. Tomorrow morning he will vomit the second his eyes will open. Luckily, Louis has a morning class, and won’t be required to assist him.

“I said,” Harry’s voice is a rogue whisper. Too much vodka. Louis finds him nauseating, at times. “Sometimes. Sometimes, I wish you’d hit me.”

So he didn’t hear wrong.

Interesting.

Louis relaxes back on the mattress, laying on his side, propped up by his left elbow. The lamppost light filters in, and he can make out the lines of Harry’s curls, his nose, part of his cheekbone. His eyes are closed shut, his brows knitted. Louis grins.

“And why is that?” He’s pushing, he knows it, but Harry has been eating out the palm of his hand for months now. He hasn’t called his sister since Louis told him to, back in January. He has fainted twice, only during this last semester. Niall hasn’t tried to contact him in weeks. He’s all his.

“You…” Harry lingers, stops. His eyes squeeze more, his lips curl. “Maybe. Maybe if I had bruises.” He dries his forehead with the back of his hand, harshly, uncoordinated. “If. If you cut me, or something. If I had signs. Maybe. Maybe people would notice.” He spits out the last part of his sentence, holds his breath, and pushes his face on the mattress, hard. Louis hopes he won’t drool. He changed the sheets yesterday.

Louis waits. He knows there is more. Harry has always been one for the dramatics.

“And. And,” he repeats with emphasis, as if that conjunction is meant to mean something by itself. “And if they’ll notice. If they’ll know. Maybe they… They’ll try to. Warn me off. And be by my side. Make me see who...” he doesn’t finish the sentence.

Louis finds it almost sweet how he can’t bring himself to say it. Not in the dark, not with his back to him, not while drunk. He’s his. All for him.

Harry whispers, his face still shoved onto the mattress: “Maybe then I would understand. I would be able to… I would. To leave you.”

Louis hums, considering. He throws his head back, face to the ceiling, and imagines it.

Not now, no. Harry is too drunk and pliant. No fun in that. He couldn’t even bring his hands up to cover his face. Maybe after one of Louis’ afternoon classes, when he comes back home and finds him with his feet (socks off) on the coffee table. Harry hasn’t done that in a long time.

He would march to him, rage oozing off his frame, grab him by his shoulder and cloak him in the face. “If I had bruises”, Harry said. So they would have to be visible. On the jaw, maybe. His teeth would cut the inside of his mouth, maybe he would bite his tongue. He would spit blood after a single hit. And then, and then… The terror in his eyes. The tears – Louis knows he would cry immediately, he would beg, he would apologize. And Louis wouldn’t care. It's almost tasty to picture. He would throw him on the floor, kneel on either side of his hips, or maybe with one knee on Harry’s chest, pinning him down, and hit him again. And again. He can almost smell the iron in the air, feel the tick, viscous liquid staining his knuckles and his work shirt.

He could destroy him, he knows that. Harry is so weak. A gust of wind could push him to the ground. It wouldn’t be special, to do that. There would be no skill, no thought, no planification. He could break his teeth, crack his bones, carve him, even, isn’t that what Harry said – “if you cut me”. And still, it wouldn’t be interesting.

He has no curiosity about hitting him. He knows how it would go. Harry wouldn’t even try to defend himself. He would paint himself as a martyr and let it happen. Boring.

He rolls his head back, looking at his boyfriend again. Harry’s face is now resting on his pillow, his eyes open and vacant, staring at their bedroom door.

“You know what I think,” Louis tells him. He can hear the smirk in his voice. “I think you wouldn’t leave me. Even with broken bones.”

Harry shuts his eyes and draws a quick breath in. Tucks his face in his own chest.

“I think”, Louis continues, moving closer to him, his lips inches away from Harry’s right ear. “Oh, wait. I know that much. You wouldn’t leave me. Even if the whole world was on your side. You know why?” He grins in the dark. Harry’s breath is quick, shallow. Louis leans in even closer, whispering: “Because they already are. They tried to warn you, I know they did. But you came back to me. They’re on your side, alright, but you? You’re on mine. You’re not leaving me, bruises or not.” Louis’ smile grows a tad more. He’s all teeth.

It’s risky to be this open, but for all purposes and intentions, he’s talking to a wall. Harry is incoherent. He would have never let himself say any of that shit if he had any spark left in his brain. Louis can breathe. He can take his mask off and breathe.

“And the best part?” Louis continues. There’s a hint of laughter in his voice. “You know as much. You love me. You don’t know how to live without me anymore.” Harry is shaking. Louis is not sure he’s still breathing and doesn’t care. “So, this fantasy, where some other swings by and saves you… it wouldn’t work. You want this. All of it. You want me.”

Louis scoots down on the bed, not wanting to bolt the scene anymore. The sound of Harry’s panic fills the room. Louis remains still, arms down his sides.

“You won’t remember this tomorrow,” he says to the dark. “And if you do, I’ll call you crazy. Crazy. How can you think so little of me? You know I love you. You know I’d do anything for you.” He hums. “You’re my boyfriend, I love you. You know that,” he says that last phrase in his sweet voice, the one he uses in front of other people, the one that sends girls into fits of awwws and I wish my boyfriend was that sweet with me. “Say it. Say what you know is true.”

Next to him, Harry is still trembling, quick gulps of air at an irregular pace.

“Harry.” His sweetness is gone.

Harry stops breathing. Louis waits.

“You love me,” Harry murmurs, sleepy. Satiated. “You’d never hurt me.”

Louis grins. “Good.” He’s not bored anymore.

#Love that guy.... I love him as well 🥺 you're so sweet thank you for sending me that ask! Sorry it took me two months to get back to you #Hope this is decent I haven't written anything in so long. It feels very choppy and not subtle at all #but I've never written stand alone scenes so it was hard to capture the correct vibe #Hope you'll see this! ❣️#fics #abuse ment tw #Asks #Anon #Toxic au #“your brain has the best ideas” I'm in literal love with you I hope you know that 🥺🥺🥺#my writing

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zelena777 · 11 days

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Yesterday when i heard the siren from Israel, i watched the news how Iran blamed for Israel and assaulting her because of Palestine or Hamas. I think he tried to [mortis] Israel, but Russia, Azerbaijan and Germany came here to save her from her toxic dad Iran. And yeah, Azerbaijan and German are supporting Israel because they're her friends.

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extremelyblackandwhite · 1 year

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WAIT WAIt!!! Billy asking Steve for Daisys hand?

pairing: steve kemp x dark!reader

warnings: 18+ topics (under 18 year olds do NOT interact/reader), mentions of miscarriage

a/n: steve and the kemps are back. requests are back on!

part of toxic

- I don’t know, darling. - Y/N fixed her hair in front of the mirror, her left hand holding a golden crimson lipstick bullet. - He said he wanted to speak to you tonight.

- Why would I subject myself to speaking to William alone? I barely like speaking to him when Daisy’s around. Speaking of whom, why is she not coming?

- Daisy’s unpacking the stuff at their new place. She’s 24, Steve. She can go a week without seeing mum and dad. - she crossed her arms. - Besides should I remind you of your other children?

- What other children? Rose’s in Los Angeles and you know how I feel about that, the triplets are scattered around various universities and my boys are grown.

- Aaron is grown and he won’t go to bed if you don’t check the room for monsters. What are you talking about?

- I miss my girls and I was expecting Daisy to at least come with her disappointing boyfriend. - he sat on the bed staring at his wife. - We need a new baby.

- Don’t change the subject. - she sat next to him, holding his hand. - You should be proud. Our girls are doing so well and they’re very well rounded considering they have you for a dad.

- I wanna see my girl not her knucklehead boyfriend. - he rolled his eyes as he heard the bell ring.

No matter how long Daisy’s boyfriend had stuck around, Steve never fully came around him. He put up with him for the past seven years, even when Daisy begged for him to come along for family vacation, Steve still didn’t like him. Y/N had naively thought that after a while he’d come around to Daisy having a boyfriend, specially when they started living together on their second year of university. However, it seemed that no matter how hard the poor boy tried, Steve just did not enjoy his existence. He opened the door to see his worse enemy - his words - standing in front of him with flowers and a bottle of wine.

- Dr. Kemp. - he cleared his throat.

- William.

- I got these for your wife. - he extended the flowers and the wine. - I don’t expect to be here for much longer. I have to go back and help Daisy.

- Where’s she?

- She’s at home. She doesn’t know I’m here, I wanted to speak with you alone.

- How nice. - he smiled tightly.

- Dr. Kemp, I wanna marry Daisy. I’m gonna ask Daisy to marry me tomorrow night and I am here asking for your blessing.

Steve’s mouth couldn’t have gone more agape and Y/N swore that if it hadn’t been for the fact that he didn’t want to appear weak in front of his daughter’s boyfriend, he’d probably fainted from the mere shock. In his eyes, Daisy was still his little girl begging him to buy any and every single ducky plushie she found when grocery shopping. Now, here was this boy asking for her hand in marriage. His little girl. She was too young to get married? Right?

- Billy, why don’t you come in? - Y/N opened the door, motioned with her head towards the living room. - I’m making some tea. Do you want some tea?

- Can I have some whiskey? - Steve mumbled, still somewhat shocked. - Bring the whole bottle.

- Sure. - she kissed the top of his head before leaving the two of them in the living room. Hopefully, he wouldn’t kill the poor boy.

- I have bought the ring and I have the reservation. I am gonna propose to her because I love her very much. She’s the love of my life, she’s been the love of my life since I first spoke to her. Honestly, I know you don’t like me and I don’t like your very much either but Daisy adores you and it would make her very happy if you gave your blessing. I am here asking for it but I don’t need it.

- That’s ... - he swallowed in empty. - That’s bold of you to say, William.

- I’m gonna marry her if she accepts and I don’t want to create a wedge between her and you because you refuse to accept or wedding invitation. I know how important it is for her to have your approval.

- You’re awfully confident that she’s going to accept.

- We’ve discussed marriage before and children and partnership. We have the same life goals and I have a stable job lined up. Both our names are on the apartment lease if anything happened and I ... I just really want your blessing, Dr. Kemp. You can hate me all you want but I love Daisy. I wanna make her happy.

- Can you give me a second?

He exited the living room, finding his wife not so secretly listening in to the conversation. Yet again, if she wanted she could always listen to the security cameras. She gave him an unreadable look, one which he couldn’t decipher even after 25 years of marriage. It was always a mix of both sincereness and threat - something he believed only his dear wife could pull so effortlessly.

- Steve.

- I have to say yes, don’t I?

- I don’t think he’s asking, darling. I think he’s saying he wants your blessing because of Daisy. You know ... the daughter we love so much?

- It’s just ... remember when all she wanted and made her happy was to have duck stuff and be with us? What happened?

- She grew up. - she cupped his face. - They all do, eventually. All we can do now is make sure she’s happy with someone who’d do everything to make her happy. I know you don’t like Billy, but he loves Daisy. You love Daisy. Can that be your common ground?

- Fine. - he sighed, turning back around.

He knew she was right, of course she was right, and even though he disliked and would dislike every single person one of his babies brought home - William wasn’t the worse of them. He was brash but he loved Daisy. Steve just didn’t want to let go, not yet, so he just stared at the photos in the wall for a bit. Her first day of kindergarten, the first Halloween, graduation day.

- William, you have my blessing.

- Really?

- Yes, really. Now go, before I change my mind. - he pointed at the door.

- Thank you. It’s means a lot to me and Daisy.

- This better not be a shotgun wedding.

- It’s not.

- If I found out you impregnated my child and this is a shotgun wedding, I will haunt you myself with a shotgun.

- Regular wedding, no babies.

- And tell Daisy to come visit me before I die.

- Will do, Dr. Kemp.

He sighed once more as the door shut, only being comforted by his wife who wrapped his arms around him.

- Do you want that bottle of whiskey now?

- Yes, please.

#steve kemp #toxic au

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alexistaria · 5 months

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Back to toxic Kavexis,

It's toxic cuz Kaveh is an alcoholic and you're a gambler, right?

Do ya two also have toxic interactions or sum? 🥺💕

oh definitely 😭… alcoholics are fucking impossible too talk to, so while hes under the influence :(( we’d argue sm, theres also hypocrisy when it comes too money, because he spends a lot of money on alcohol while i gamble that it away. its a toxic cycle of blaming things on eachother

#[ kavexis ]#toxic au

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auideas · 2 years

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We’re In Deep AU

Everyone knows that one conspiracy theory, right? The one that says they faked the moon landing?

It was a bit hokey and of course ridiculous, especially seeing as the moon is pretty easy to get to in comparison, but it was feasible at the time. Now in 2159, however, the moon is less than an hour’s trip away, and the new deep space race is catching the public’s attention. As America begins to lose their footing against rival countries, they devise a plan that would actually allow them to do the unthinkable: fake a voyage to deep space.

Character A is trained in every way imaginable for the biggest lie told in history, right up until the day they climb into their “shuttle” and descend underground for three year’s time until the “voyage” would be complete. After the first six months, they stop hearing word from headquarters. They repeatedly cry out, using every piece of technology they could find to try and escape, but to no avail.

8 years later, movement from above their fake shuttle rouses Character A from their slumber and a knocking is heard on their trap door. Stunned to silence, Character A sprints to unlatch it and splutters when dirt falls onto their face. Rubbing the earth from their eyes and squinting upward revealed the faces of three fairly confused miners who knew Character A by name but never expected to find them there.

TL;DR -- The necessity for the deep space race wasn’t just for the sake of competitive international technology development, but because the apocalypse was coming, and fast. New hospitable worlds needed to be discovered, so as the toxic apocalypse collapsed onto the world and forced them to live underground, Character A was supposed to be looking for a new home for them. Clearly, they haven’t been.

#admin m #auideas relaunch #space au #deep space au #cosmic au #fake au #conspiracy au #apocalypse au #dystopia au #dystopian au #voyage au #astronaut au #underground au #shuttle au #rocket au #toxic au

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carla5172007 · 1 year

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Toxic Au Clay Sandust. Aka Crimson Guard reference sheet

Age: 36

Personality: Very serious on his job as crimson guard. More brutal, scarier than when piss off and monsterous.

Relationship: Adrian ex. After finding out the truth. He eminently broke up with Adrain and leave the Emperor's Coven ( Because he he disobey an order) and left the Boiling Iles with his house.

!! 🚫 DO NOT REPOST 🚫!!

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reallyprofoundkryptonite · 2 years

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Redraw time!

This time, this au is getting more background. And a revamp.

I will be redoing his ref but for now here’s a ref with updated information.

For those who can’t read the text:

-Krogan was originally a dragon hunter. Very loyal to his cause.

-Krogan was a feared and abused creature. When he ended up falling in love with Viggo Grimborn, the head of a rival dragon hunter clan, Krogan was forced to watch him be brutally slaughtered in front of him.

-After the supposed death of his lover, Krogan went insane. He became extremely violent, and his masters used this as an excuse to weaponize him. They gave him magical abilities, the ability to manipulate fire, however this only drove him into a further grief-stricken rage.

#krogan #httyd #httyd rtte #krogan rtte #krogan httyd #rtte #httyd fanart #httyd fandom #httyd au #fanart #httyd art #rtte fanart #art #viggo grimborn #rtte au #rtte art #toxic au

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notherpuppet · 18 days

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Self indulgent toxic yaoi ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 🐈‍⬛ 🦌

Heavily inspired by the works of mui

Also original dialogue I had in mind lol

#I’m not immune to toxic yaoi sorry #radiohusk #alastor #husk #human au #hazbin hotel #my doods

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8-0mph · 6 months

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The Dead One

#winter king #petrigrof #adventure time #he doesn’t need to make an ice betty #he already has a real one #simon petrikov #betty grof #headcanon #simon killed betty au #toxic petrigrof yay #tried a new style #fionna and cake #fanart #cartoon network #simon x betty #ship art #lol #can you even call it that

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chrollohearttags · 5 months

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the baby trapper | armin artlert

armin wants to make sure you don’t ever leave him. Even if he has to resort to desperate measures

content + themes: porn w/ a little plot, toxic armin making his triumphant return, baby trapping (new to writing this so forgive me if it doesn’t sound right), slight yandere vibes (?) missionary, rough sex, daddy kink, breeding (dk what it is with this man and breeding 😫), unprotected sex, he’s so terrible but he’s so sexy

wc: 1.7K

📝: trying to get my steam back a little and I also couldn’t stop thinking about @levisbaldheadedwh0re and his five baby mamas 😭😭 I’d like to think this is how his ass got them.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.

you’d told yourself no..you’d said it time and again that you were done. That this would be the very last time you’d see him..that he didn’t deserve you. All of which were false except the latter. Because somewhere in the back of your consciousness, you knew…you knew it’d always be this way. A tumultuous, repetitive cycle of breaking up and making up even harder. Telling him you hated his guts only got him to be in yours hours later; saying how sorry he was and you’d always forgive him without pause. But this time, he couldn’t be certain…the risk of you actually following through on your promise was far too great. You made it abundantly clear that if he didn’t get his shit together, you were breaking up with him. And to take things a step further, you were moving out of this city and leaving his ass behind entirely. The prospect of you moving onto bigger and better things..new job that paid amicably, an apartment on a nicer side of town than where you currently were and of course, a better man. You had every intention of doing so too. That was until…

“Keep fucking me!…just like that. Right there..”

“Right there, baby? That’s your spot, ain’t it?..squeezing me so fucking tight—“

until you made the rather ignorant choice to make one last visit to the toxic, selfish man known as Armin Artlert. Giving your final plea of sorts; hoping that he’d beg your forgiveness and vow to be a better boyfriend. Because although he wasn’t the best fit for you in the slightest, there was still some semblance of love there. A part of you cared so deeply and didn’t want to let him go. But the truth was, that was pure, unadulterated lust! The connection you felt for him was nothing more than an attachment to his sex..the way he fucked you was incomprobable. Hadn’t met a man who could make you feel the way he did physically. Despite causing you pain in every other area..regardless, you looked past it once he got you out of your clothes and on his mattress, practically breaking the bed frame trying to put you through it.

“Arminnn!….oh my gosh..”

coiling both your wrists and ankles into his grasp, he’d keep you in place, pounding into that core with consistent strokes. Each one going deeper and deeper..drumming out loud whimpers and arousal all the same. A sheath of your juices were leaking onto the sheets, along with staining his cock. He didn’t care..he desired more. Almost as if he were addicted to it. You were already overstimulated; afraid that you couldn’t take another orgasm. All of this came only after he had eaten your pussy to the point of tears. Yet, here he was..determined to get more than his fill. Those blonde locks plastered to his forehead due to the pouring sweat trickling down his body. He always got this way when he was inside of you. The only time he’d give you his all; completely devoted to ensuring that you received the ultimate pleasures. Trembling and shaking, (y/n) gazed into those icy colored eyes, each of which were teeming with lust for you as he finally faltered his speed a little. Those arms..each toned and laced with detailed tattoos stood at your side like that of pillars. “Yes, baby? Something on your mind?”

at the moment, it was completely blank. Your brain dumbed and fucked out by his unrelenting resolve. Not to prove he would treat you right but to ensure that you didn’t go elsewhere. That even if you decided to get in that car tomorrow, drive miles away and never look back, he’d be forever imprinted in your memory..

“I-I can’t..no more, baby. Please…oh my gosh.”

however, that wasn’t the only way that Armin was planning to leave his mark on you. Because little did you know, he had devised a plan to ensure that the two of you would be bound for a lifetime. Whether you wanted to do so or not..

“No more? Oh, sweetheart..I know you can give me so much more than that..” his voice mirroring that of a very nefarious villain. Even patting your cheek and sliding a thumb between your lips for a small semblance of comfort. You looked so cute and utterly pathetic. So much so the sight made him twitch whilst buried to your hilt. That swollen cock head pressing directly against the entrance of your womb. He hadn’t been entirely honest when he invited you over for what he called “one last talk.”..hell, he had no intentions at all of sitting down and discussing the state of your relationship, what he could do to resolve it or how to be a better man. His one and true objective was to get you pregnant! He wanted you to be with his child, so that no matter where you strayed, you’d be reminded of him. He’d constantly tell you how he wanted you to have his baby and that you’d look so pretty carrying it. But you couldn’t in good faith raise a child with someone as irresponsible as Armin! His employment was constantly fleeting, he lacked all the skills required to care for another human being and you didn’t want that risk. But you truly had no choice..no choice but to lie there and take every inch of him as your beautiful brown eyes rolled to the back of your skull. As that appendage left an imprint in the pit of your belly, kissing the inner corner of that cervix. Your legs flailing midair and your toes curling to the max. He wanted to keep you like this forever..admire and treasure his most precious possession..

“I mean..I bet if I do this..” suddenly, you’d feel that swelling tension in your loins deepening when he rubbed your clit with his free thumb. “No wait!—“ “..you’ll come so hard, I won’t even be able to stay inside of you.” His voice is so condescending but soothing in a way. He gave you sweet nothings with the most sour of intentions. Knowing that he wasn’t going to allow you to leave here tonight without every last drop of his seed in your womb. Until he saw the lines on that test indicating a positive result. He needed it..he needed you so fucking badly!

“So that’s why I want you to take it…take all this fucking dick, sweetheart. You’re such a good girl..the only one who can get all of my nut. So do it..take it just like you did the other ones.”

it was then that those vigorous thrusts would resume. Even harder than before and he didn’t care that he had now freed your hands and you were utilizing them as a means to slow him down. He’d merely put them right back where they started. “If you can’t keep your hands to yourself, beautiful. I guess I’ll just have to hold them again.” Meanwhile, he’d release another maniacal laugh and shove his tongue between your lips; swirling it around your own until you were whimpering into his mouth. He had maximized his speed and was rutting those hips until you felt him to the hilt. That tight cunt made even more constricted by his previous loads that had been sloshing around. Throbbing and leaking as he thrashed you around. His thick girth and long length fill every sector of you. He had full dominion over this body and wasn’t letting go!

“Are you gonna do as I asked, baby? You’ll do whatever I want, right?..”

“Y-yes, daddy! Fuck meeee..”

“And you’re not going any fucking where, isn’t that right?..”

“No…oh my gosh, just don’t stop.”

your answer seemed to satisfy his ego well enough and that was all he needed to persist. Smirking down and rewarding you with another kiss, Armin gently stroked the side of your face before leaning back up.

“That’s right, baby. Get used to calling me daddy..because I want to get you pregnant. Fill that pretty pussy up..you ready?” You’d vehemently nod with tears in your eyes. Begging for him to do so..to make you his forever. With only a couple more strokes, he’d take an inch or so out and for his final thrusts, slow down.. “..c’mon, beg me. Lemme hear you say that shit. Tell me you want my babies..tell me you want me to get you pregnant.” Leaving you no option than to do so and truth be told…

“Come in me, daddy! Please..give it to me..”

“There we go…now hold still..”

you wouldn’t want it any other way! Finally, he’d come to a halt and you’d feel that earlier throbbing increased tenfold. All that mounting tension of being between those tight walls had finally caught up and he couldn't hold or pull out. “Ah—haaa..shit, coming!”

pulling you into his chest, Armin would empty every last remnant of his cum into your womb, filling your stomach with every ounce, joining the other two that had followed before. You were stuffed to the brim; overflowing with the warm, white substance by the time he finished. Those strings of silky fluid didn’t come without a chorus of empty ‘I love you’s’ and tearful cries. He made you linger on every word. Hold on to hope that he meant what he spoke. But even if there wasn’t a hint of truth in his statement..

“Thank you, sweetheart…for letting me fill you up..look at that. Gonna look so pretty with my baby..I love you.”

it was too late. You were already trapped inside of his web!

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