#(to be clear she’s moving into the bedroom opposite mine)

[syrupfog]

🐧 🐬

[gothlcsan]

could you write a kind of pt.2 to myung jaehyun "puppy play" where taesan later admits to hearing reader and jaehyun, and possibly joins?

꒰ PLAY DATE ꒱ 태산 - 재현

when your and your boyfriend’s best friend admits to hearing the two of you have sex.. and wants to join

genre smut, subs!taesan x jaehyun x fem!reader tws pet names (puppy/kitty), threesome, dom!reader, jealous and very possessive jaehyun, no protection (use protection), not proof read .. ⠀⠀⠀⠀ author note thank you for the request, hope this serves you well, hehe ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ word count 2370

There’s a knock against your bedroom door, turning to look over your shoulder.

“Come in.”

Taesan cracks the door open far enough to poke his head in, a shy smile on his face.

“May I come in?”

Looking down at Jaehyun who gives you a pout, you face back to Taesan and nod.

“Come in, baby.”

That gains an annoyed squeeze on your arm from Jaehyun.

Taesan walks closer to where you and Jaehyun were sitting, attempting to wedge himself in between the two of you.

“Let me sit here too,” Taesan whines, fighting against Jaehyun who was trying to push him off the bed.

“Why do you want to sit here anyways, go away.” Jaehyun quipped as he gave a final forceful shove that made Taesan stumble off the bed and onto the floor. Quickly he stands up and turns around to angrily face Jaehyun, shoving him backwards.

“You’re not the only one who gets her attention, you clingy baby.”

“She’s mine.”

“She’s ours,” Taesan yells, eyes welled up in his eyes as he turns to face you for help. With a snap of your fingers, Jaehyun apologizes to Taesan and curls back into your side, telling Jaehyun to move over so that you can make room for Taesan on your opposite side. He tries to protest but with a simple expression he quiets instantly, huffing as he scoots over. There’s a triumphant smile across Taesan’s face as he climbs into bed next to you, wrapping his arm around your stomach so that he can nuzzle into your neck easier.

There’s finally peace within the bedroom as both men laid snuggled on each side of you, until Taesan lifts himself up so that he’s resting on his elbow staring at the two of you.

“If you need to say something, speak.”

A blush decorates his nose and cheeks, his fingers anxiously playing with the strings to your sweats.

“You remember the other day?”

“More specific,” you say with a sigh.

Taesan whines, clearing his throat before trying again.

“The other day when you and Jaehyun played-“

He’s cut off as Jaehyun sits up with a loud, “hey,” you pushing Jaehyun back down telling him to quiet down so Taesan could finish what he was saying.

“- I’m sorry I listened and,” he whines with a pout, “I want to play with you too.”

An accidental smile forms on your lip, exhaling through your nose as you nod at his confession.

“You want to play with us, hm?” You reiterated, trailing your fingers up his thigh to make him squirm, successfully doing so as he whines from your subtle touching. Nodding, he asks if he can, pretending to ponder on the idea before agreeing, telling Jaehyun to stop whining who was grumbling at the idea of sharing you. Taesan goes to climb on top of your lap, pushing him off with a shake of your head. He stared at you in confusion, having just gotten your permission, both men watching as you sat up and crossed your legs.

“Both of you, up.”

They listen, sitting up and being sure not to break their focus on you.

“Kiss.”

They stare at each other then back at you, another confused look across their faces.

“Each other,” they questioned.

You nod.

“Prove to me that the both of you can get along, you both do want me don’t you?”

Looking back at each other, they both look nervous before Jaehyun rolls his eyes and grabs Taesan’s face.

“We both want her, let’s get it over with.”

Jaehyun pulls Taesan into the kiss, Taesan froze into place before leaning into it, tiny moans coming from them as they got into it. Sitting up on his knees, Taesan follows suit with Jaehyun, his fingers curling in the older man’s hair. You watch them try to fight for the higher ground, pushing each other not breaking the kiss once as Jaehyun groans rather loudly into Taesan’s open mouth as his hair is pulled.

“Come here, my pretty pets,” you beckon for them.

Their lips separate, a string of saliva being the last connection between them before it breaks. Turning to face you, their eyes beginning to become hooded and full of need, giggling at them in amusement.

“You two seemed to enjoy that more than you figured, hm?”

They try to deny it, waving them off as you tell them to come closer to you. Ordering them to help you strip, guiding their shaky hands to your shorts. You watch as Jaehyun walks Taesan through the process, Jaehyun sweetly asking you to lift your hips for him, doing so that he can slip the shorts down and then past your ankles. They’re discarded mindlessly onto the bedroom floor, Taesan whimpering at the sight of your thong that barely left anything for their imagination.

“Are you going to take these off for me?” You asked Taesan who stared down at your panties then backed up to gain your permission, asking if he’s allowed to. Multiple pleases falling from his lips until you give the go ahead, his fingers curling around the hands of your panties. A gasp comes from him as he pulls them off your legs, seeing your wet pussy for the first time. He chooses to ignore how hard he got near instantly, huffing at Jaehyun who tells him to stop staring so intently.

“Both of you stop fighting or I'll get off by myself,” you groaned, yanking Jaehyun to sit next to you by his arm.

He softly apologized as he helped pull your sweater off, kissing from your neck down until he could lean forward, his warm tongue licking your nipple before wrapping his lips around it. This brings a satisfying hum from you, petting the back of his head as you have Taesan your attention.

“You want to eat me out, kitty?”

The newly given nickname makes Taesan burst into an intense blush, something unlocking in his brain. Asking him again, he eagerly nods, inching closer to you so that he can lay down onto his stomach. He’s never given someone oral before, excitedly anxious as he stares up at you before leaning down to lick your clit. Giving him an encouraging nod paired with a moan, he begins to grow confidence bringing his fingers to tease your hole. Having them both work on you makes your head fuzzy, jumping back and forth complimenting each of them. Jaehyun grabs your chest, his fingers rolling the nipple in between his thumb and forefinger whilst his tongue works the other, your head rolling to the side watching.

There’s not much going on through your head besides pleasure until Taesan suctions his lips around your clit, making you instinctively grab at his hair. He’s a messy eater but that only intensified the feeling, moaning deep from your throat.

“So good, baby, so good,” you wistfully sighed, bringing Jaehyun up into a deep kiss. They’re soft against yours, giggling as he bites down onto your bottom lip, pulling back so that it snaps back from his teeth. Shared gazes soft yet full of mutual need, grabbing the back of his neck to continue the passionate kiss. Wet lewd noises fill out the bedroom and your ears, moaning into Jaehyun’s mouth due to Taesan slipping his fingers into your drenched pussy. It causes you to lose focus on the kiss, looking down at Taesan with your mouth agape, moans flowing from you. He stares up at you with a proud smile on his face, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit adding to the pleasure given by his fingers. Need filled out your veins, whining with a pout, tipping your head back to rest against the headboard giving yourself a few seconds to collect your thoughts before returning your attention back to Taesan.

“Come here, kitty.” Your voice is no more than a whisper as you speak.

Pulling his fingers out from you, you shiver from the sensation, sweating under your breath, Taesan crawling in between your legs. You reposition yourself so that you’re laying flat on the bed instead of sitting up, your head comfortably on the pillow, Jaehyun following suit with you. Staring at Taesan you gently reach for his wrist, giving him a sweet smile as you bring him closer.

“Be a good boy and fuck me, yeah?”

Jaehyun shoots an annoyed look at Taesan, giving Jaehyun a pet on the back of his head, as excitement fills out Taesan’s face. His dream was about to come true and he wasn’t going to let his overly possessive best friend stop him. He listens as you guide him, slowly slipping into you but not yet bottoming out so you’re able to familiarize yourself with him. Pulling out and returning back to his previous position, he continues doing so until you tell him to go ahead, flinching as you dig your nails into his wrist.

“Please, don’t move yet,” you pant in between each word, Jaehyun pressing encouraging kisses across your neck and cheek, nodding to let Taesan know he can start moving. His thrusts aren’t coordinated by any means but it’s not unpleasant either earning several moans from you. Facing Jaehyun, he blushes due to you telling him to strip off his sweats, not once glancing away as he does so obediently. Slipping off his shirt and discarding it onto the floor, he crawls back next to you, gasping as you latch onto one of his nipples with absolutely zero hesitation. The pretty soft pink bud hardens under your tongue, tugging it between your lips as you pull your head back. Jaehyun whines so softly, his eyes dancing to study the entirety of the scene before him. Removing your grip on Taesan’s wrist you bring it to wrap around Jaehyun’s dick, moving your thumb pad to repeatedly brush up against his slit. A raucous moan erupting from his chest as you squeezed the head of his dick between your fist.

“It hurts,” he struggles to get out, his breath getting caught in his throat by the intensity of your grip. Jaehyun adored the addition of pain, a sadistic smile that shined on his face, by giving just his tip a few rough strokes. The need for more swelled in the pit of his stomach but he didn’t dare to voice that, not yet, not wanting to lose your touch due to his impatience. Taesan's sudden quickened thrusts yank your focus from Jaehyun, your hand pressed up against his stomach telling him to slow down. Scrunching your eyes trying to swallow your shaky moans in an attempt to collect yourself bringing your hand back to wrap around Jaehyun.

“Be a good puppy and I might just let you cum,” you whisper into Jaehyun’s ear, giving his dick full strokes from the base to the tip, his lips pursing as he collects the sheets in between his fingers. Pleasure flowed throughout his veins like hot magma making him moan frantically not being able to hide his intense response. You giggle at Jaehyun’s reactions loving the way he squirms under your touch, glancing at Taesan with a smile.

“You’re doing such a good job, kitty, making me feel so good.”

Taesan manages a “thank you” before leaning down to place a hand on each side of you, deepening his thrusts. Tossing your head back on the pillow you laugh in a mixture of both pleasure and disbelief, the growing sensation in your abdomen becoming noticeable.

Tightening the hand around Jaehyun, you tease him asking if he was going to cum already, watching in amusement as he shakes his head no, promising to hold out for you.

Everything was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on, your strokes messy as Taesan began to messily rub your clit with his thumb, moving your head to mark Jaehyun’s neck as a distraction. You were determined to let this continue longer, loving having both men under your control but it was all too much, Taesan hitting your sweet spot repeatedly and becoming less coordinated as he begged to cum. Desperately you swallowed hard trying to collect your composure, quickening your pace around Jaehyun who began moaning and squealing in surprise.

“Be good boys and cum with me, okay?”

They both agree, Taesan’s bangs halfway sticking to his face as he pulls his hand away from your clit and to hold both your legs together over one of his shoulders. That deepens his thrusts, gasping as you pressed your lips against Jaehyun’s. It tastes salty, his tears cascading down his cheeks and onto his lips, moaning at the taste. Jaehyun’s hand clings to your thigh as you three collectively reach your highs, squealing into Jaehyun’s mouth as you cum around Taesan who in return, cums in you. Warmth spills over your closed fist indicating that Jaehyun came as well, his chest heaving trying to find his breath.

“Fuck..,” you whimper as Taesan slowly pulls out, your body sensitive and trembling as he crawls to lay next to you. His arm naturally wraps around your torso, inching closer as you three laid there trying to catch your breaths not speaking a word.

Taesan is the first to break the silence, pressing several kisses on your cheek.

“Did I do good?”

The question earns a giggle from you, nodding.

“Yes Kitty, you did so well for me.”

The praise earns a grunt from Jaehyun, turning to look at him, sighing with a laugh. Giving him a playful smack on his bare thigh.

“You did really good for me too, pup. No need to be all pouty and bratty.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” he whines, nuzzling into your shoulder in response.

“No sleeping just yet, we got to clean up, okay?”

Both of them whine simultaneously, shaking your head telling them that you three can shower together. Swearing if they had tails they’d be wagging from how quickly and excitedly they climbed over each other and yourself to get to the bathroom.

You sat there until they came running back to the bedroom, both of them grabbing a hand each to help you toward the bathroom, giggling at their behavior the entire time, reading yourself for another round.

[watsittoyah]

The Devil's Playpen

A Obsessive!QIMIR X BLACK!FEMALE OC STAR WARS SMUT FIC

This is complete fiction, I do not own any characters of the star wars franchise however I own all characters of my own creation, as well as plot.

That being said, the themes will be dark, Qimir will have obsessive and possessive qualities. This story will be borderline grey morals, there will be trigger warnings in the beginning of every chapter that will be gruesome/sexual.

You’ve been warned little flower if you’d like to continue, please read forward, if not put this work of fiction down and go read the holy word…welcome to the Devils playpen…

Chapter 2) Fear Is Only A Four Letter Word

(Song: All Mine By Plaza)

Warning: Mutual masturbation, Mentions of suicide, Rough oral sex (male receiving), Self pleasure, back door eating (HE EATING GOOD TONIGHT LADIES!)

Previous

I can feel my mothers tears on my face as she hugs me.

“Mother I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-” I smell her burning flesh instantly and I want to vomit. When her now lifeless body falls against me, I see the figure who took her from me.

The figure was always Zen, but this time it’s…

“Qimir.” I wake up with a jolt and I’m no longer tied up in ropes. Instead I’m in a bed under a soft quilt.

I mentally curse my body because that means Qimir had to had touch me to get me into this bed.

A missed kill opportunity.

I go to get up, but I pause because I feel eyes on me.

I think fast about a weapon and he must’ve known what I was thinking because he says something that makes my skin crawl.

“You know looking for weapons won’t help you. I can always take it from you.” I cut my eyes at him. “So you want to come close to me or should I just come to you? Because the moment I get a weapon I’m going to-” He raises his hand to me and I become lifted in the air.

My throat is now in his hand and he looks me deep into my eyes. “Such a deadly little flower.” I can’t move. I can barely move my fingers and toes.

Of course he’s a force user.

“I hate you.” I hiss at him. “You hate me now, but you’ll learn to think otherwise, little flower…you know you talk in your sleep. Did your mother-”

“DON’T TALK ABOUT HER! SHUT UP!” I scream as I try to force my body to move. He looks at me with a smile crawling across his lips.

“You see you have this…” He squeezes my throat tighter, cutting off my air a bit. “…look in your eyes. It says you want to murder me. But that’s going to be difficult since I have the upper hand here.”

I start to feel my left side and before he can notice I bring my hand up and rake my nails across his face. He drops me instantly and I take a deep breathe.

I then take off running.

I’ll kill him and then I’ll get out of here.

First I need to find an exit, then maybe I can lure him out and then handle him.

I take a left and I can smell him not too far behind me.

He’s fucking gaining on me.

I take a right and halt around a corner. I press myself firmly against the wall and listen out for him. “You can’t run far, Akasha. I won’t let you leave this place. You’re not leaving me….” I heard him say as he stalks down the hall looking for me.

Once the coast is clear I take off down the hall in the opposite direction. I feel cold air drifting in from a room so I run inside and I see the light from outside.

I run faster and just when I feel like I have my freedom…

…I see that we’re on a high cliff.

I stop short and I see nothing but rocks and water as far as I could see. My legs give up from under me and I fall to my knees. I don’t even care that they’ll bruise.

I…I can’t stay here. I need to escape, I need to get my freedom back.

Before I know it, I’m walking down the halls, thinking about what I can do. How I can get off this fucking island.

How do I get this crazy son of a bitch to let me go?

You play the role he wants, tell him all he needs to hear and when the coast is clear, find a safe exit and slit his throat from ear to ear.

I smile to myself as I walk back to the bedroom and I make sure I play my roll well.

Don’t give in too easily, he will be suspicious. Be the cat in this mouse trap, Akasha.

I kneel in the middle of the room with my eyes closed listening for his panicked footsteps. His scent makes it to me before his presence does. I then hear him enter the room and I remain still.

“Look at my little flower, rooted where she belongs.” He says standing in front of me. I open my eyes and look at him, pretending I’m bored.

“Oh, you’re back?” He narrows his eyes at me and he grabs me by my upper arm. “Ouch!” I fake to him. He seems to like my plea because he squeezes harder. “I need to show you something. But you need to promise me you won’t try to run off again. Because if you do, I will leave you with a permanent scar on this intoxicating body of yours.” He says as he drags me off.

I give just enough resistance to make him think I’m going to fight him, but I follow along side him.

••••

Once we’re outside, I take in my surroundings and Qimir’s grip on my arm loosens but only by a fraction. “I am going to teach you how to concur your fear. But first you must address it.”

He lets me go and while he keeps his eyes on me, he goes into a bag that was outside and he pulls out a different light saber. I take a step back from him and he stands in front of me.

He points the handle my direction, motioning me to take it. But I don’t move a muscle. “Akasha, take it.” I shake my head. “No.” I tell him, not looking away from the light saber.

Suddenly I’m back into the bad place. I’m watching as the Jedi slaughter everyone and I’m trying my best to help mother escape.

Children’s lives were being snuffed out. Men are being brought to their knees. The few women we had left…all begging for mercy.

And what breaks my people apart is the slash and stabs of light sabers brought on by monsters who say they are the good guys.

When I blink, I’m not there. I have to remind myself that I am in the present and that I can’t get hurt. I live on for my people. I live on so I can get revenge for them.

Qimir, takes the Saber and puts it in my hand but I jerk away and snatch my hands back. “No! What are you trying to prove? I’m weak because of this stupid weapon? You win!” I yell at him.

“No, I’m showing you that you’re stronger than your demons. This fear? It hold you back from your full potential. Now take it!” He thrusts the saber into my hands and in an angered rush I snap on him.

I point the saber to his chest, in hopes that it will light up and kill him. But when I see his eyes soften, I get frustrated. I can’t help but go to hit him with my bare hands. He moves quick as he sees what I’m about to do.

He keeps my hands on the saber handle and he looks me in my eyes, with sadness.

I want to scratch his eyes out, how dare he look at me like that?

“Do you feel that, Akasha?” He squeezes my hands tightly and I want to scream. I want to throw a tantrum. He’s looking at me with pity. I’ll show him pity.

“Below the surface of consciousness are powerful emotions. Anger…fear, loss…desire.” When he says desire he looks down at my lips and then back up into my eyes. “T…that’s the path to the dark side.” I tell him, smelling his want and need.

Don’t lost focus, keep the anger. Keep the hate and make sure you attack. I tell myself.

He’s pitying you.

Don’t let him win.

“Semantics.” He says in a whisper. “What do you desire in this very moment, Akasha? Revenge for your people? Taking my life? Or deep down you have the desire to unlock your potential, in a way that I know is a guarantee?”

He flicks the saber from my grasp and it clatters to the ground.

His arousal is unmistakable as it’s starting to suffocate me.

The urge to bite him is strong.

I look away from his eyes and I stare at his lips, his tongue emerges and licks. I remember those lips suckling my clit, I remember his tongue worshiping my pussy.

My thighs clench with desire and I try to pull away but he pins me still with his hungered stare. He leans in close to my ear and he rubs his nose against my skin.

“I can smell how wet you are, Akasha. My desire, in this very moment is to bury my face between those delicious thick thighs of your and partake of that sweet pussy just like I did yesterday. Will you let me do that? Will you let me taste you again?”

A chill runs down my spine as I feel his cock pressed against my stomach. I choke back a moan as my clit throbs.

I want him to touch me.

Taste me.

I want him to lick me till my juices drip down his handsome face.

He flicks his tongue against my earlobe and I let out a small gasp. “Come with me, you haven’t bathed since yesterday and I’m sure you’d like that.” I’d like to sit on this man’s face, but before I could protest he tugs me along by my hands and makes me follow him.

We get to a calm little pond and he lets my hands go and starts walking towards the water.

I watch him pull off his shirt and on his back, I see an ugly scar. It practically took over seventy-five percent of his back. Curiosity bites and I want to know how he got it.

He looks back at me and his eyes travel up and down my body. “Aren’t you going to join me?”

That question, stalls all of my logical thinking and I start pulling off articles of clothing and I follow him into the water.

We’re both completely naked and the cool feeling of the water on my skin feels good to my tense muscles. I watch as he dunks his entire body into the water and I watch for him to break the surface.

Instead I feel his hands on my body and I almost jerk away from surprise, but I still my movements. “You have such pretty brown skin, little flower.” Qimir says as he holds me from behind.

He dips his head low and I feel his teeth graze against my neck. I feel his very erect cock brushing against my lower back and I bite my bottom lip as I reach around and grab a hold of him. He lets out a hiss as I stroke him slowly.

“Is this part of my training, Master?” I feel his muscles tense as I call him that and I know it pleases him by the way he leaves kisses against my neck.

“It’s definitely part of your training. Though I should punish you for running away from me.”

“But I did come back.” I challenge as I rub my thumb against the head of his cock. I hear a groan in his throat and I feel my clit throb. “You did come back to me, like a good girl. So I guess I can reward you a little and make this a lesson at the same time.”

He then cups my breasts and I let out a moan as he rolls my nipples between his fingers. I lean my head back against his chest and he takes the opportunity and sucks my neck. I feel a slight pinch and I know he’s left a mark. “You know one of the many reasons why I chose to keep you, little flower is because you’ve suffered loss. And you’re free from so many things…”

He pulls me back gently towards a large rock in the water and I follow. The water is now only covering up to his lower thigh and my higher thighs. He then leans me against the rock and cages me in with his arms.

I look from his eyes and down to his bare chest. My split tongue makes an appearance which causes him to suck in his breath. My eyes go further down and they widen.

I know what I was touching in the water but holy mother of Venus he’s huge. I look away but he stops me by holding me by my chin. “You were just touching it seconds ago, don’t be afraid of it now…this will be your reward amongst other things, little flower.” He guides my hand down to his hard cock and when I grip it he bites his bottom lip.

“I know I don’t need to teach you on how to pleasure someone, but I want to see how you pleasure yourself, show me what you do on those lonely nights.”

It’s like I’m under his spell, because I then guide my own hand down to my pussy. I rub my lips together and my eyes flutter closed. “No, no, no. I want to watch those pretty grey eyes while you pleasure the both of us.” He growls as he guides my hand up and down on his thick cock.

My eyes open wide when I see him hike up my legs so that I’m in front of him but spread more apart. As I pleasure myself I stroke him with a more firm grasp. “Just like that. Stroke me as if I’m inside of that pretty pussy of yours.” He moans as he watches my fingers rub my clit. I was watching myself stroke him and I see the bead of precum ball at the tip. I had the urge to use my tongues to lick it up and twirl it around the head.

When we both look up at each other he presses his full lips against mine and it gave me a chill. Because it felt like we were meant to kiss…to touch…to be intimate.

I’m as crazy as he is.

I twirl my tongues against his and he rocks his hips faster, as he stokes himself in my hand. I stop focusing on myself and I just use both of my hands to stoke him while rubbing the head against my pulsating clit.

He sucks my tongues and bites my bottom lip. I hear a suck when he releases my lips and I know they’re swollen from the assault.

Qimir’s eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels the tip slide inside of me. I start to go further but he stops me. “No, you ran from me earlier. You don’t get to feel my cock inside of you just yet. But don’t worry, I’ll let you cum this time. Now make yourself cum with just the tip of my cock. I want your juices dripping against this rock.” He holds my legs further apart and I let out a moan with some gibberish of my native tongue from the added pleasure.

I stroke him against my clit and I bite my lips, moaning, and internally wanting him inside of me. “Master…please just let me slide it in. I want your cock inside of my pussy. I want to make you feel good too.”

He allows only the head to go in again and then he stops. “If you hadn’t ran, Akasha I’d be balls deep inside of you. But you have to learn the consequences of your actions. Now let me watch you cum with just the tip.” He groans as he leans in and bites the same spot he had earlier on my neck.

“Fuck…” I moan as I stroke him faster between my pussy lips. “Mmm, that colorful language. I really like when you use your words to let me know you’re enjoying yourself….I might not have my cock inside of you right now. But it will be inside of you soon.” He licks my bottom lip and I rock my hips now, just to feel more friction.

I move my face and moan that I’m gonna come soon, which only makes him stoke against me faster. “Cum on the head of this cock, little flower. I need to watch you cum.” He moans against my open mouth.

I groan and whimper as I feel my lips clutch on the head of his cock. I stop and feel my juices drip down my lips and onto the shaft of his cock.

I try to catch my breath but he doesn’t give me a second of rest. He moves me up on the rock and flips me over so that my stomach was lying on the cold hard rock.

“Now I get my release.” The snakes in my stomach were tumbling and toiling around as I wait with anticipation of him, fucking me from behind. But instead I feel him move me to my knees and I feel his tongue lap up at my already sensitive clit.

“Ah…t…too much, master.” I moan as I claw at the rock. He gives a firm slap to my ass, before he parts it. “You can take it. I know you can.” He assaults me with his tongue on my clit and my back arches as I squirm trying to get away.

“There you go, running again. Now stay still.” He gives a firm order and my body, does what it’s told.

He slides his tongue inside of me and I feel his nose graze the bud of my ass, which causes me to groan in pleasure.

This bastard is going to ruin me before I can even slit his throat.

I move my hips but he slaps my parted ass, more firmly. “Don’t…move.” He says between licks. I let out a moan in response and feel him slurp and suck my lips.

Just when I think he’s about to let up, he grips my ass and he licks from the tip of my clit all the way to the bud of my ass.

The noise coming from my throat sounded animalistic.

He slips his tongue in and I look back at him. He had his eyes shut but I can tell he was in utter bliss. I feel his fingers stroking my inner walls and I jerk close to an orgasm.

If my nails could dig deeper into the rock I’m sure I would’ve broke chunks of it off.

“Master, Massssster I’m gonna come. I’m gonna-” He spits and slurps it up and I lose it.

I feel myself squirm and squirt all at the same time.

I don’t care that he said don’t move. I move my hips and I rub my ass and pussy in his face so I can ride out the orgasm.

He then holds me firmly still and he gives a hard suck to my aching clit. I jerk one more time and in an embarrassing motion, I hit my head on the rock and I pass out…

••••

I wake up to the smell of something in the air and I’m back in the bed when I open my eyes. The gears in my head start to spin when I realize, Qimir is either sleeping on some floor or chair. Or he’s sleeping in the very bed I’m in.

I quickly get out of the bed and I see I’m wearing one of his t-shirts. It comes just past my knees and yet I still feel exposed. I follow the smell and find him shirtless in what looks like a kitchen.

I look at the scar on his back and the curiosity comes back to my mind. How did he get that scar?

Who hurt him?

For a split second I feel anger in my stomach knowing someone had hurt him.

No, stop.

I don’t care that someone had hurt him. Right, I don’t care.

Yet, I walk a bit further and I reach out, letting my finger tips brush against him. His body tenses and when he turns, I see something menacing in his eyes. I snatch my hand back and he quickly switches.

“Someone’s finally awake. Are you hungry?” Before I can protest, my stomach gives me away. He gives a smirk at the sound motions for me to sit at the table. I hesitate slightly and he stares me down. “Akasha, sit.” He says in a gentle yet steady voice.

I go sit down and he brings over to me, a bowl of some sort of broth. I look at it questioning if I should eat it.

“It’s not poison, if that’s what you���re thinking.” Qimir says as he pulls up a chair. “Are you sure?”

“If I wanted to kill you, it would’ve been when I had you in the alleyway.” Fair point.

I stir the broth with the spoon provided and I bring it to my lips. I sniff the air and the broth doesn’t have any off odors. But you can mask a poison with other ingredients.

I bring the spoon to my lips and from the corner of my eye I see him, watching me. Waiting for me to taste. I let the liquid hit my tongues and I glance at him.

“It’s good.” I tell him as I take another spoon fool. The broth had chunks of meat in it as well as some grains.

He seems to relax after watching me eat and he begins to eat his meal as well.

We eat in silence for a while. The only sound you hear is just spoons scraping bowls and slurping from lips.

I glance at Qimir and I see him licking his spoon and lips. My brain stutters as I remember what those lips and tongue has done to me in the last twenty-four hours and the broth goes down the wrong way.

I choke on the broth and he gets up to help me. But I jerk away from him and I fall out my chair. I manage to choke down the broth and he was crouched down in front of me.

“Even after the intimate moments we had, and you’re still not willing to let me touch you.” He says with a hint of hurt in his voice. “I don’t trust you, Quimir. Is that even your real name?”

He nods and clenched his jaw. “You don’t trust me yet hours ago you trusted me enough to have my face buried in placed on your body intimately. This flower just gets more and more interesting. And as far as my name, I chose it so it’s my name.”

He cocks his head to the side as he stares at my neck. He gives a smirk and I raise my hands to the tender spot. “That mark I left…there’s no mistake that you belong to me. But I’m sure you’ll learn when I leave more marks on you.” He stands up and offers his hand to me but I ignore it and stand on my own.

I walk past him and sit down at the table, no longer hungry. Just feeling licked with anger.

“If you’re done eating then let’s get started on your first lesson. The lesson at hand is admitting your fear.” I feel as if ice cold water was poured over me and I feel exposed.

My eyes look around before anything else and I see he has a saber in his hand. I go to get up but he stops me with a look. “Sit still and don’t you fucking move.”

I don’t even look at him. My eyes on trained on the saber. “Why are you afraid of an object that has no power unless wielded? Why does fear have you by the throat like this, Akasha?”

Qimir walks around the table towards me but again I only stare at the saber. “If you want to kill me with the saber. Just do it. Stop taunting me.” I finally look up at him and he was gazing at me.

“The fight in your eyes lets me know you’re not hopeless. Now why are you afraid or a light saber? Did a Jedi do something to you?” I stare him, unanswering. “Your people?” My eye twitches and he gives a chuckle.

“Genocide is funny to you?” I narrow my eyes accusing him. “No, what’s funny is your anger gives you away. Clearly the Jedi have wronged you but they left such a deep scar on your life that fear has you by a choke hold. I want to help you break that fear.”

“Why? Why is this important to you?”

“Because, what I desire is a partner of equal standing. And I’ve looked for many years. You…you have the potential. But this fear is holding you back and I want to help. Will you let me?” He asks as he towers over me.

I swallow hard and I look down at the saber. “How can you help me? How can you help me heal these scars?” He lifts my chin so that I’m looking up at him. “Not heal them, embrace those scars. Come with me.” He tugs me up from my seat and he leads me to another room.

When we get to this room, I notice the walls have many scratch marks all over them. Qimir stops which makes me do the same as well. “You seem to fear the saber because you see it as a reminder of the terrible events in your life. But instead of freezing with fear, you should concentrate on using that fear to paralyze your enemies.”

I watch as he walks over to a metal box. My first thought is that he’s going to grab another saber, but instead he takes out a metal helmet. It looked homemade and had a creepy smile adoring it. “This is made of Cortosis. It destabilizes light sabers and…it’s also a device they would use on younglings.”

My eyes cut to him. “You were a Jedi?” He nods and I bare my teeth at him. “I knew something was wrong with you! You’re like them! You’re a murderer! Just like them!” I yell as I back away from him. He raises his hand and I get yanked over to him.

“I was a Jedi, and as far as a murderer, I only killed the people who wronged me. I was never on your planet when the erasing happened. I…am what they call, a Sith. I’m telling you all of this because I need you to trust me in order for this training to be a success, Akasha.”

He hands me the helmet and it has some weight to it.

I could smash him across his face, hit him over and over until his skull is caved in and I could be rid of him. But I can’t do that. I don’t even have a way off this island…which means he had to had brought me here on a ship.

But where is the ship?

“What do you want me to do with this? Eat it?” I ask in a sarcastic manner. He rolls his eyes at me and clears his throat. “Put it on, you need to refocus your mind and let yourself be one with the force.” I give him a scowl. “But I’m not force sensitive.”

He shakes his head. “Yes you are, Akasha. I had you under my control earlier but you had managed to get out of my hold. You were most likely force sensitive as a child but no one trained you. Now put the helmet on.”

“After I do, what will you do to me?” I ask as I look down at the frozen smiling face. “I won’t do anything that you won’t like. I promise.” I don’t trust him, but in order to get my way I need to play along. So I put the helmet on and it’s a bit claustrophobic. All I can really hear is my own breathing. “What now…Master?”

I can feel him behind me. Holding my hips in place as he presses his front to my back. “Now close your eyes. Your eyes can deceive you. You must not trust them. Breathe….connect with the force, Akasha. Think of those moments where you’ve had peace. Grasp those moments and use that to connect you.”

A thought bubbles up in my head. A thought I haven’t had since I was a little girl. It was the day my mother had gave me my youth marks.

I remember the day. I was both excited and anxious. I had asked the great grandmother about how the process is done. And she told me that I was suppose to drink a warm liquid that would have me in a limbo state, and then the great grandmother would take red ink, a poking stick and a stone and give me my youth marks.

I still remember my mother holding my hand when the first poke pierced my skin. I winced in pain and my mother said, I must be strong like our people. I need to be brave like my father and cunning like my ancestors.

“Look at you…” I hear Qimir’s voice and that’s when the memory fades. When I come back to the present, I see that I’m holding the saber, but not only that, everything in the room is floating in the air.

I gasp and that’s when everything falls to the floor. I toss the saber down and I take the helmet off. “What are you doing? You were doing amazing, Akasha.”

“I feel sic-” I feel a slight pound to my head and I drop down. But before I can fall completely, Qimir scoops me up in his arms. “Sorry there little flower, I should’ve warned you that you’d feel a bit nauseous after your first time. But you made me proud. Which means you get rewarded greatly.” He leans down and he kisses my temple. He carried me in his outs and walks out of the room, I look back at the saber and helmet and feel…a warm sensation.

Is it because I don’t feel well?

Because he said he was proud of me?

Or because I was able to tap into the force?

Yeah, I don’t feel well. I’ll go with that logic.

••••

After much rest and odd dreams about the force, I was woken up feeling this empty feeling in my gut. I haven’t felt that in a long time.

I crawl out of bed and feel that the side next to me was cold.

Where is he?

I feel my bare feet patting against the cold floor and I hear drilling. I follow the sound and when I find where it’s coming from I see Qimir drilling something onto the helmet.

He senses me because he stops and looks over at me. “Did I wake you?” He asks as he sets his drill down. “No, I was just wondering what you were doing since you weren’t lying next to me.”

He looks down at my bare thighs and the back at me. “I couldn’t sleep, and even if I could, I wouldn’t sleep in the same room as you…you’re too much of a distraction.”

“So where do you sleep? If not in the bed with me?” I ask out of pure curiosity. He looks around and then back at me.

“In here. I have a cot in the corner.” He motions with his chin and I look over to see the cot. It looks uncomfortable and old.

I make a face.

“That can’t be good for your back.” I look back at him and he’s just staring at me like he wants to eat me…out.

“Careful little flower, you sound like you care about me.” I roll my eyes and cross my arms, which causes my chest to push up. His eyes, go right to there and I feel…hot.

“I’m just saying, that can’t be good for your back…speaking of that. How did you get that scar?”

The moment I mention the scar he seems to give off a dark murderous aura. Even I take a small step back.

“…My…Master, gave this to me after she threw me away.” His jaw was clench but I see it in his eyes. The anger and hurt. “So she stabbed you in the back.” I say remembering how big and ugly the scar looks.

I get a slight irritation in my chest hearing that a woman had hurt him.

“Among other things. Yes.” He then goes silent and the room just seems suffocating. So I speak.

“These…scars.” I touch my face and give a sad smile. “Are my youth scars as well as my warrior scars. They were painful, but I adore them.”

“Are you saying I should adore this scar on my back?” He snaps at me. “No, I’m saying my scars have a story. And so does yours. I have plenty of scars you haven’t seen that shows I’ve tried to take my own life….” I pull down the shirt and point to the faint scar on my neck.

“When my people were slaughtered and I was left. I got scared. I got scared and lonely and I remember…I grabbed a chair. I grabbed a chair and I grabbed my old baby blanket. I had cut it up finely and I just kept tying the pieces together until the knots were tight enough. I remember praying to whatever god or entity out there that I could join my people after taking my life. And when I kicked the chair from under me-”

Qimir was up in an instant. I flinch thinking he was going to hit me but instead he pulls me into a hug. “Stop-stop talking about that memory. When you talk about it, you look helpless and that makes my chest hurt, because I can’t stop that for you. I can’t protect you.” He looks down at me and he looks at my neck. He leans down and he kisses the faint scar.

“Don’t ever do this again. I’ll lose my mind if you took yourself away from this planet…from this time period…from me.” He embraces me again, and I feel…warm.

This feeling is foreign to me and I don’t want it to stop. But I can’t allow him to get to me. I can’t allow him to win.

I shrug him off and back up a bit. “What are you working on?” I ask, just to change the subject. He looks back over towards the helmet.

“I’m just adding some new additions to the helmet. It’ll help when you’re wearing it and keep the force in you stable.”

He’s thinking about me.

He’s considering how I felt sick after using the force in that magnitude.

This, this is too much. I need to leave this room or something. I feel like I’m suffocating.

“Oh! I’m…I’m just gonna go back to bed. Sorry to bother you.” I go to leave but he keeps me still by getting a grip of my shirt. “You’re never a bother to me, Akasha. Actually, how are you feeling? I meant to ask you that.”

He gently pulls me closer to him and I swallow hard because he’s giving me a look that tells me, I’m going to be on my back with my legs spread wide open.

“I’m fine. I got plenty of sleep so, I’m fine now.” He looks at my lips and then he trails his thumb against my bottom lip. “So, if you’re fine and you had plenty of sleep, then why do you need to get back to bed?”

“I…uh.”

He walks forward which makes me walk backwards. Until my legs bump against something cool.

My hand touches it and it feels smooth to the touch, like metal or a mirror.

“Little flower, you aren’t trying to avoid me are you?” I shake my head. “No, I figured you didn’t want a distraction so I would just leave you alone.”

“It’s too late for that now isn’t it. You come in here, with this shirt on and your thighs out for display. Imagine if we had company. I’d have to kill them for looking at you. For looking at what’s mine.” He leans me against the metal like wall and he brushes his lips against my neck. This time with lust behind it.

“A…are you sure you don’t want to finish up on the helmet?” I ask, knowing he sure as fuck doesn’t want to do that.

“Why would I do that, when I have a delicious snack in front of me? I think I deserve a break, and I do recall saying I’d give you a reward…”

To watch this man get on his knees and push my legs apart, should be illegal. But he does just that and he lifts my left leg and place it on his shoulders. He looks up at me and while we keep eye contact, he bites and sucks my inner thigh, causing me to hiss in pleasure.

“Now I’ll leave marks that no one but you and I can see.” He says as he trails his tongue against the now bruised mark.

“Lean against the wall for balance, little flower.” I do as I’m told and he hikes me up so that both of my legs are on his shoulders.

I hear him lick and my hands go to his hair. I throw my head back against the mirror, I buck my hips as I feel his tongue does circles around my clit.

His hand then reaches under the shirt I’m wearing and he gets a hold of my right breast. My nipples feel as hard as rocks as I feel him pinch one.

“Qimir…Master, please don’t stop…” I moan out as rock my hips and rub my pussy deep in his face.

I hear him slurp and lap up my pussy and when I finally look down, he was flicking his tongue quickly up and down my slit.

“Mmmm, you’re…such a lovely distraction. Especially with this fucking sweet little pussy. I feel him insert two fingers inside of me and when he does a come here motion, I start stuttering like a madwoman.

He continues to do the come here motion as well as sucking and licking my clit and I quickly without warning cream on his face.

I watch his eyes roll back as he deeply licks me out. I was practically gripping his hair when I came and when I finally catch my breathe, I let go and he has beautiful just fucked hair.

Has be always been this…pretty?

He kisses my left then right inner thigh and then he kisses my pussy lips before letting me down on wobbly legs.

As he stands up, I see the erection he has poking in his pants. I lean in without thinking and I stand on tippy toe, kissing him, tasting myself on his tongue and I twirl with his.

He pulls back but only after I bite and pull his bottom lip. “Mmm where are my manners. A lady as tired as you are shouldn’t be on their feet like this. I think you should rest off of those pretty feet and kneel for me.” He says as I see him rubbing his cock in his pants.

I lower myself on my knees, but he stops me and moves so I mirror him. I look up at him and he leans down and rubs this thumb on my bottom lip. I open my mouth and I suck his thumb, causing a groan to come from him.

“You are so beautiful, Akasha. Such beauty as yours, would make anyone do whatever to make you happy. I would kill for you if it put a smile on your face. I would break someone’s neck for you, it it meant I could have you look at me like this all the time. I’d slit their throat for you. I would cut them open and offer their heart to you just to show you how dedicated I am for your happiness.”

My stomach flutters hearing him say that and I watched as he pulls his pants down. I bite my bottom lip looking at his cock and he strokes it while looking at me.

“You know from the moment I met you, and seen your tongues, I’ve wanted my cock in your mouth. I want to know how that feels, little flower. Can you do that for me? Show me what those pretty tongues can do.” He steps out of his pants and steps closer to me.

I inhale his scent and it makes me moan as I lean forward. I flick my tongues on the head of his cock and he lets a hiss escape his lips. I take the head into my mouth and Qimir lets out a soft moan, while holding the back of my head.

“You’re so good to me, little flower. So, so good.” He does slow and deep thrusts and I feel a tingle in the back of my throat.

“You know why…I’m standing like-oh fuck don’t stop sucking…just like that….You know why I’m standing right here, lit…little flower? So you can watch yourself in the mirror, while you take my cock down your throat.”

I glance over and sure enough we’re facing the mirror. It was a great turn on to see myself on my knees, taking him. I look back up and he slides out of my mouth.

“I’m going to go faster, but I just wanted to warn you, okay little flower?” He asks permission. I grant him that and he smiles. “Good girl, now open.” I open my mouth and he spits in it then slides his cock back in my mouth.

He starts thrusting deeper and faster which tickles my gag reflex. I try to push back but he takes my arms and keeps them up with on of his hands.

“No…hands, little flower. Fuck. Your mouth feels so good.” I start to choke a little but he doesn’t stop. He grips my hair and he fucks my throat deeper. I feel tears welling up in my eyes and he smirks.

“I know you can take this. I know you can take all of it down this pretty little throat of yours. And if not, then I’ll train your throat so…so it can only take my cock. F..fuck. Just like that. Swallow this cock like your life depends on it, Akasha.” He moans as he bucks his hips.

I try my best not to gag, so that he will be happy. Pleasing him seems to be my main focus and I want to make him happy.

When he finally pulls out, a trail of drool and precum drips from my lips. “Do you want me to stop?” He asks while stroking himself faster as he whimpers. “No, master. Keep go-” He doesn’t even let me finish my sentence as he enter my mouth once again.

This time I relax my throat as he face fucks me. I look in the mirror and what I see makes my juices drip onto the floor. Qimir’s muscles were flexed, his veins were pulsing and his facial expressions were blissful.

“My cock….belongs in your throat, Akasha. Don’t you think so?” He asks as he looks at me, thrusting and fucking. I nod, and I gag causing his cock to jump. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum.”

No sooner, I feel his thick cum shoot down my throat. He groans for me to swallow every last drop and just like his good little flower, I obey.

I milk him and he bites his bottom lip looking down at me. He lets my hair and hands go and he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around him

and we kiss, tasting each other in each others mouths.

“You did so good, Akasha. Keep that up and I’ll become addicted to you.” He whispers sleepily. I begin to reply but a yawn cuts me off.

“How about, we get to bed.” I nod and look over at the cot but he shakes his head. “I think we both deserve to sleep in a comfortable bed tonight. And besides, I want you close.”

Hearing him say that makes my heart flutter.

Wait, no. I don’t want it to flutter.

What is Qimir doing to me?

NEXT

[all-pacas]

OK, follow-up to this post about Cameron's apartment's, let's look at Chase's. Because set design is fun!

We never see Chase at home in early seasons: the closest we get is in Human Error, the end of S3, where Cameron is visiting his place. We never actually see inside, and it's not even clear if this is like, his front porch or just the entrance to the building; he's a former rich kid so it could be either, but I assume the latter, because he's a trust fund brat but not own an entire townhouse rich.

The next time we hear anything about it is in The Itch:

CHASE: What time you done? We could try that new sushi place next to my house. CAMERON: Why don't we stay at my house tonight? CHASE: We always stay at mine. CAMERON: That's what I mean. We used to split it. What happened? CHASE: I don't know. Closer to work. CAMERON: By five minutes. And my house doesn't look like it was decorated by a drunk rugby player.

(I am fascinated by this line and all its implications. It is not decorated by a rugby fan but a drunk rugby player. What does that look like besides probably atrocious.)

Sadly, we never see this apartment. The next time we see him at home it is in the last episodes of S5. He appears to have moved in with Cameron; since this apartment doesn't match her old one and isn't plastered in sports posters, she either gutted and redecorated the apartment or, I think more likely, they got a place together (we first see them "at home" once they're already engaged). We first see it in Under My Skin:

And then we get several good looks at it (including the bedroom) in S6:

(the last two photos are a bit awkward but useful for layout: cameron exits the bedroom and is directly opposite the front door, meaning the bedroom is to the right of the hallway arch; meanwhile the front door is behind chase and you can just see the TV to his left, making it the final wall of the living room in the s5 set.)

Finally, at the end of Teamwork, we get a nice view of the living room/kitchen from the windows: it appears the kitchen might have an alcove to the left for a dining set (although when we've seen them eating, it was on the couch — relatable).

Chase stays in this apartment — same layout and architectural details — through S8, although once Cameron moves out he completely redecorates, which is fair. This is also interesting, because it shows he has a completely different style than she does; Cameron's apartments are all decorated the same (beige Pottery Barn-core), but Chase has a more… well, masculine aesthetic, he likes darker colors and more color in general.

We very, very briefly see his apartment in After Hours, when 13 calls him:

It appears Chase is lowkey a nerd: he's reading a book on the Crusades, he has a stack of books on his nightstand, and the top one appears to be a goddamn diary. Incredible.

We next see it in Chase: from the first shot we can see it is the same apartment as before; from the second we see the ensuite connected to the bedroom (and that he's gotten rid of the bookcase that used to be against the wall).

Finally, Park briefly stays with him in Gut Check, and we find out that a) the apartment has at least two bedrooms (and likely two baths, given the en-suite), and b) the redecoration did continue:

(why the hell does he have four TV remotes on his coffee table????) I actually like the orange couches (and the implication that Chase threw out every single one of Cameron's decorative tchotchkes), but it's a different vibe for sure.

Because we actually get so many different looks at the place, it's pretty easy to make a map of the layout; the apartment looks something like this:

This post is so pointless. However, I do not apologize.

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

The Way He Looks at You Series

Valentine's Day Bonus Content: Festival of Love III: Need

Read on AO3 Read on Blogger Read on Tumblr Story Master List: The Way He Looks at You Series

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Chapter Summary

You and Cal work together to deal with the effects of the drug. Rating: 18+ Words: 3.5K

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The kiss is hot; tongues sliding past one another, desperate to taste and feel every inch of the other’s mouth. Finally, touching her like this, my overwhelmed lower body humps the space between her legs. I can’t help myself. She is equally eager and kisses me with more ferocity than she had before the accident. 

I pull away from her lips, trailing messy kisses down her neck. She rewards my efforts with small moans, her fingers raking through my scalp, desperate to hold me near. I pin her against the wall with my body, releasing one hand from her thighs to unbutton my pants. I need to get inside of her, to stake my claim on her body and remind her of how she used to yearn for my touch. 

It’s not how I imagined us getting back together, but it’s inconsequential. She stiffens before moving her hands to press against my chest, pushing me away. My stomach drops, realizing that this is likely a preview of my inability to win her back past today. 

I pull back, allowing her bare feet to touch back onto the soft carpet. A frown on my face as I look at her. I touch my hands gently to her exposed arms, hoping to console her, and bring her back to wanting me. 

She stares at my chest. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” 

I repress the building hurt and rage. “Don’t ever apologize for touching me.” 

She meets my gaze, her eyes filled with regret and lust. My heart breaks, knowing she is not mine, that she still belongs to a man who cast her aside. 

Her hands continue to push against me, requiring I step back to appease her. “I’m so sorry.  I just have to… This is not happening. I gotta go.” 

She pulls away, turning towards our bedroom, my fingers lingering on her arm as she steps out of reach. “No, I’m sorry I shouldn-” 

She doesn’t turn back, slipping through the open door and closing it to escape me. My eyes close as I stand where she left me, coming to terms with my failure. 

I take a few steps backwards until I am leaning against the opposite wall that I had pinned her against. My body feels heavy, or perhaps it’s just my heart. Either way, I allow gravity to overtake me, sliding down the wall until I am seated at its base. 

It’s time to release her since it is clear we cannot rebuild. She’ll return to the Rebellion, to the Jedi. My enemy will train my son; perhaps for the best, at least my child will not face the devastation of the Dark Side. 

I imagine her life, watching her hold my son, perhaps pregnant with another of the Jedi’s children, fighting against the Empire, growing old. Without me. While I sit in this tower, knowing she exists but refusing to act on the knowledge of new Force users. Likely being executed to protect her. 

She’ll never know the extent of my love for her, the extent of how she changed me. How she comes into the lives of others and improves them. If I cannot give her that appreciation, I hope the Jedi figures it out and worships her as she deserves. 

A few tears fall from my eyes, dropping and disappearing into the dense black material of my pants. Despite the pain I feel, I remain hard; the drug working relentlessly to keep me in this needy state. 

I rise to my feet, knowing what I must do, preparing to tell her the truth about our meal. We’ll get through the effect of today separately and I’ll write myself a note explaining what happened today and that it’s time to let her go. Tomorrow I’ll ensure she safely leave Coruscant. 

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You’re in the bathroom, staring in horror at your reflection, when you hear a knock at the door. You don’t immediately answer, not wanting to face the consequences of your actions. What you did is wrong, despite how good Cal looks. You aren’t sure what your relationship is with Theo, if Cal is telling the truth. 

Cal knocks again. “Hey, I’m really sorry. I should have told you sooner.” 

“What?” 

He sighs. “I didn’t realize it at the time, but I think the Chak juice was tampered with during transport. I looked it up after I began feeling, uh, horny.” 

Your mouth drops open at his crude words and confession. The pieces fall into place on why you’ve been so willing to touch and kiss Cal. Part of you feels better knowing it’s not your fault. 

“There have been other cases of it being laced with a sex pollen, of sorts. I’m really sorry, I should have told you once I found out. I was worried you would think I had done it on purpose.” 

You feel suspicious; you know how badly Cal wants you, maybe he orchestrated everything to trick you into fucking him. Eyes narrowing at the closed door, assuming the worst intentions of the man behind it. You say nothing, allowing him to dig his own grave. 

“Look, I’m going to give you space to do what you need to do to take care of any urges the drug may have caused. The bedroom is yours. I’ll be locking myself away in my office. If you need anything, just knock. Again, I’m really sorry, I didn’t want to trick you, I just wanted to give you something special. I understand if you’re mad.” 

His voice and willingness to leave you alone doesn’t align with your suspicions; perhaps he’s telling the truth. He could easily take advantage of you today, but he isn’t. He could have forced himself on you in the hall, but he released you the moment you pushed him away. Cal has never crossed a line on purpose, always requiring your consent. 

The ache in your cunt urges you to believe him, to forgive him. You shake your head and sigh, knowing that you should think your actions through. Impulsivity is the reason you are now hiding in his bathroom. 

Your hand moves to open the door, ignoring your concerns. “Cal, wait…” 

Cal turns, releasing the handle of the partially opened bedroom door. “Yes?” 

You chew your lip before speaking, searching his face for any sign of lying. “You didn’t do it on purpose?” 

His forehead wrinkles with worry, panic clearly etched into the lines. “No, never. I would never trick you or try to have you without your consent. All I wanted was to give you a special day.” 

You watch him for a moment longer, waiting to see if he drops his guard, but he looks genuinely concerned that you view him as a monster. A special day, you think, feeling your own wetness and seeing the bulge in his pants, a smile breaking on your face. “Oh, it’s special alright.” 

He matches your expression, eyes crinkling in flirtatious joy. “It definitely is up there.” 

He waits, and you wonder if he is in your mind. You don’t want him to know your decision before you do, so you open your mouth and start speaking, allowing you both to discover what you will say. “You don’t have to go…maybe we can help each other out.” 

The smile wipes from Cal’s face, being replaced by a darker and hungrier expression. “I’m listening.” 

Your stomach fills with butterflies, reveling in the way he looks at you. He’s so handsome, the Jedi physique always does it for you. You’d like to see more of his body, to feel all of it, every inch. 

You can’t meet his eye as you speak and hear the bedroom door click closed. “My fingers aren’t cutting it. I NEED something inside of me.” 

To your surprise, he doesn’t immediately lunge at you. “You have two hands…” 

You search his face for answers as a smirk tugs at his lips. Speaking carefully and this time, looking right into his intense eyes. “Yes, but I need something…bigger.” 

Cal watches you for a breath before speaking. “My fingers?” 

You bite your lip, trying not to show how much you need his fingers in you. “Yes, and…maybe even bigger?” 

He smiles, but it’s predatory, as though he’s hunting you. “Oh. Yes, I can definitely provide that.” 

You chuckle. “You think it’s big enough?” 

He takes a step forward, chin raising, reminding you of his power. “It should keep you quite full.” 

You resist taking a step away. “One stipulation.” 

He steps forward again, dropping some of his dominant aura. “Anything.” 

“We pretend like this didn’t happen tomorrow. I refuse to make any big decisions about our relationship while under the effects of this…stuff.” 

Cal nods. “Absolutely. Today is a onetime deal. I won’t bring it up ever.” 

You give him a hard look. “You sure you can handle that?” 

He reaches out, middle finger trailing down your cheek, you lean into the touch. “Yes. I am only helping you.” 

You glance down at his clothed erection. “And I’m helping you?” 

He tilts your chin up. “You never have to help me.” 

“So I’m not?” 

He leans in. “You are, but your pleasure comes first.” 

You give him a mischievous look, raising your eyebrows. “Unless you do…” 

He chuckles softly, his face inches from yours. “I can’t promise I won’t be more sensitive than usual, but I’ve already cum twice and I’m still hard. I’ll keep you full and stay focused on you.” 

His proximity shuts down any humor you previously felt, looking into his eyes, then at his lips. “Yes, Cal.” 

He kisses you softly, his lips grazing across yours, waiting for your response. You tilt your head back, a sharp inhale parting your lips, Cal’s top lip fills the void. He starts slow, pressing kisses against your mouth, coaxing you into asking for more. 

As you push your tongue forward, Cal’s tongue moves to meet you. He is more gentle this time, savoring each kiss. 

“Cal, I appreciate how you’re kissing me. But I need you now.” 

Cal smiles, nose bumping against yours. “Tell me exactly what you want and I’ll give it to you.” 

You flush, embarrassed at being so honest. “Please, Cal, I don’t want to say it…” 

Cal shrugs and resumes the painfully slow kisses. You try to be okay with it, try to allow the delicate pace, but the drugs are making it harder to stay calm when you could ride him right now. 

After what feels like an eternity, you break the kiss, your palm on his chest, pushing him backwards. However, your fingers curl into the thin material of his tank top, preventing him from fully pulling away. He glances down at your hand in appreciation. 

“Fine, please just fuck me. Take off both our clothes, have me in every position you like. Please fill me now.” 

He tilts his head. “Now? I suppose I can improvise until our clothes are off.” 

One of his hands snakes down your body and between your thighs, plunging two fingers deep into your weeping hole, eliciting a groan from you. Your eyes flutter closed and you feel his free hand tug your dress up and over your head, exposing your naked body to him. He pumps his fingers into you, curling with each movement. 

You force your eyes open to watch as he undresses, excited to see his body for the first time. He reaches behind his neck to tug the material up and over his body, letting it land on his occupied wrist. You take in every part of his muscular form, mouth watering in delight. 

He gives you an amused look before meeting you for an open-mouthed kiss, tongues stroking against one another in need. You wrap your arms around his neck, hoping to pull him closer. Hearing the sound of pants sliding down his legs; you pull back to look but he does not release you from the kiss, instead guiding you backwards towards the bed. 

As the backs of your knees hit the mattress, Cal pulls his fingers out of your cunt, leaving you wanting. His shirt slips free of his wrist and you finally see him fully nude. He looks painfully erect, and you want to soothe both your desires. 

“On your back. I want to watch your face the first time you cum.” 

You move with haste into position and Cal follows you, his movements deliberate.  He settles between your spread legs, looking over your body. “So obedient.” 

You laugh. “Don’t get used to it.” 

He positions his length at your entrance. “We’ll see about that. I get the feeling you are going to do whatever I ask for the rest of today.” 

Cal doesn’t give you an opportunity to respond, instead pushing forward, sliding until he is fully inside of your soaked cunt. You reach out to grab his shoulder, needing to touch him more. 

“Fuck, Cal.”  

He pulls out, readying to thrust. “I intend to.” 

Your brain feels like it’s melting from the pleasure you are receiving, heightened by the drug’s hold on your mind. Cal pumps himself repeatedly into your body, each stroke slamming the head of his cock into your cervix. Neither of you keep your composure, both fighting to not orgasm. 

You speak first. “Cal, I’m really close.” 

Cal continues the brutal pace but forces himself to watch your face, keeping his promise. You look up into his eyes, seeing his desire, and something else. Watching someone so good looking take pleasure in your body pushes you over the edge, spasming and clenching around him. Cal watches as long as he can before his own eyes close, cumming with you. 

He doesn’t give you a break, which you are grateful for. One orgasm wasn’t enough, and you can’t stand the thought of being empty right now. He pulls out only for a moment, guiding you onto your hands and knees. 

As his cock enters you again, you feel his hand pushing down between your shoulder blades. At first, you aren’t sure what he is doing, but allow him to press you down into the mattress, arching your back. Each thrust feels more delicious in this position and you cry out. 

“Like I said, you are obedient. It suits you. Being mine suits you.” 

You turn your head to look back at him, rolling your eyes. He snickers and grips your hips, pulling your body against his, using you. A wet slapping sound fills the room, egging you on. 

You reach between your legs to stroke your clit, however; you find it’s easier to hold your hand steady and let Cal drag your body against it. Forcing you to grind against your own fingers. Your nipples rub against the smooth comforter, shooting sparks through your body. Each movement coiling pleasure in your abdomen, moans flowing easily from your lips. 

Cal grunts. “You’re…so…tight…” 

You feel him unloading inside of you; he fucks you through it, ensuring your pleasure is uninterrupted. The notion is so hot that you follow shortly after he is done. Clamping down hard around his overstimulated cock as you twitch in pleasure. 

“Fuck, Light, it’s a lot.” 

Cal’s pleas go ignored as you ride the high of your orgasm, fucking yourself on him through the aftershocks. Cal lets loose a stuttered collection of grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. 

You stop moving, panting as your left cheek rests against the bed. The need in your body is ready for another round, but you are physically exhausted, wondering how the two of you could keep going. 

Cal brushes some of the hair off your neck, helping cool your body. “Light, do you want to cum again?” 

You rise to your hands. “Yes, but I’m already tired.” 

You laugh, feeling surprised by the exhaustion. Normally, you could go much longer, especially with the added stimulant. 

Cal pulls his still hard length out of you, causing you to whine. 

“Pregnancy is known to do that.” 

You turn to face him, ignoring his words. “Please, I need you in me.” 

Cal smiles and kisses you once. “But you’re too tired to keep going.” 

You give him your best wide-eyed look. “Yes.” 

Cal thinks, looking over your body, making you shift. “I may have an idea. Stay here.” 

He climbs off the bed and walks out the door. You can’t help but look him over from behind. If the Force has a favorite, it’s Cal. Every inch of his body is muscular and perfect, making you want to never let him go. 

You could stay with him, you’re pregnant with his child after all, that’s reason enough to stay. You could be his little wife, allow him to fuck you every night, fill you with more of his babies. Perhaps bring him back to the Light side, start a life far from here. 

Cal interrupts your thoughts by returning to the bedroom, holding a funny-looking device that you recognize as a smaller holopad. He holds it up for you to see. “This used to be yours. You read some rather interesting books before the accident.” 

You give him a funny look, confused at what he intends to do with the device and your current situation. His erection pressing high against his lower stomach. Cal arranges the pillows and sits at the head of the bed, gesturing for you to sit on his lap. 

You move quickly to straddle him, sinking down, fulfilling both your needs with a whine. You rest your head against his shoulder and he absent-mindedly strokes your back. 

“I’ll keep you filled while I read your old books to you. If you find you need to ride me, please do so at any time.” 

You think the entire situation is odd but snuggle against his chest, breathing in his scent, agreeing to his terms without words. Cal reads aloud, the rumble of his voice pleasantly sounding each word. You aren’t listening at first, but as he continues, you realize this is no ordinary story. 

Cal is reading you pornography. 

You lean back to look at his face. “Um…Cal, what are you reading?” 

Cal snickers. “You tell me, this is what you were last reading before your accident.” 

Your eyes widen and you decide against pressing the issue, instead leaning against him, listening in fascination to the filthy words. Cal reads to you for hours, mostly you listen, but each time there is a burst of energy, you ride him. Your movements often distracting him until he puts the holopad down and helps you ride, hands gripping your hips. 

You chase orgasms whenever you can, Cal never pushes for more than what you can take. Part of you wonders how he might use your body if your pleasure didn’t come first as he promised. If he might have spent each minute fucking all thoughts from your brain. 

But you are happy to lie in his arms instead while he strokes your head and reads. Apart from the cock warming and the pornography Cal reads to you, it’s innocent enough to cuddle with him for hours. You could see yourself curled up beside him more often, enjoying his warmth and scent. 

“Cal?” 

Cal’s eyes stay focused on the words on the screen. “Yes, my love?” 

Your cheeks heat at his word choice, knowing he forgot the nature of your relationship. “We agreed we won’t speak about this ever again…” 

Cal looks at you with concern. “Yes.” 

You press your lips together. “Maybe we could act like it happened, but not jump back to sex. At least, not right away?” 

Cal drops the reader on the bed, both hands moving to cup your cheeks, pulling your face close. “I would do anything for you.” 

He presses a kiss to your mouth, you eagerly respond. Your arms wrap around his neck as he flips your bodies, pinning you to the bed. “We’ll start fresh tomorrow. Let me have you one last time.” 

You smile and nod, dragging him back down into another kiss. Cal maintains the kiss while moving his hips, slow and deliberate, ensuring your exhausted cunt enjoys every motion. The way he fucks you differs from the other times today. You assume the drugs must finally be wearing off, hoping that you might sleep in each other’s arms tonight. 

Cal sucks at your bottom lip as he moves, each thrust thoughtful. He kisses you, hands still holding your face as you both cum. Each kiss feels final, but you know it is only the beginning. Both exhausted, you finally feel satiated, and Cal’s erection softens. 

He fetches you one of his black shirts to wear for sleep, dressing himself in his usual lounge wear. He climbs back into bed and wraps his body around yours, his nose resting in the crook of your neck. As you fall asleep, you become unaware of the man left awake in the room. 

The Inquisitor who cries softly into your hair, knowing the best day of his life will soon be forgotten. Who untangles himself from your body once he is too tired to fight off sleep. Who sets up a makeshift bed on the floor beside you, falling into a fitful sleep, forgetting the gift you gave him. 

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[sweetfirebird]

Christmas Shit

The next of the Christmas charity prompts. @orbisonblue generously donated and asked for some Jimmy and Javier from From Better or Worse.

Content tags: some mention of Jimmy's (absent) awful, homophobic family, complete with how they think/talk about gay stuff as well as Jimmy. This is futurefic, so I guess book spoilers.

All characters are mine blah blah.

Christmas Shit

Javier let himself into Jimmy’s place through the back door like always, narrowly avoiding Baci as she bolted outside to chase leaves, one of the bags in his arms smacking into the wall hard enough to make him freeze and listen for any glass breaking. But he forgot the spun glass white egret intended as a Christmas present for Peyo to put in the yard that was now possibly shattered into a thousand pieces, because Jimmy sprang up from where he’d been lying on the couch and flailed around until he found the remote.

He waved it at the TV while forcefully pressing buttons, probably intending to turn it off but only pausing the screen. Javier glanced at the image of several white people in period costumes lined up opposite each other for what he assumed was a dance, then faced Jimmy, who was staring at him with eyes a little too wide. As though Javier had just walked in on him watching porn—no, Javier had walked in on him watching porn and also had watched some with him, so this was something else.

He realized what only a second after his first thought. Trust Jimmy to still have hangups about doing anything that might be considered ‘weak’ or ‘gay’ where anyone in his family might see.

Javier was not someone who raged or held grudges, but he had a collection of things he was waiting for a chance to say to the Rizzo family if he ever met them.

Not that he ever would. That was why Jimmy was out here, and why he volunteered to work on every holiday, and probably why he’d made up reasons to not go to Christmas shopping at the mall in Riverton with Javier and Peyo today.

“You’re home earlier than I expected,” Jimmy said, almost breathless. He was not looking back at the TV screen. Javier couldn’t let him go on being nervous, even though if he waited, Jimmy would remember on his own that Javier was one of his asshole relations back in the Midwest who would insist something like that was for fags.

But Javier didn’t feel like letting Jimmy suffer even for another second. “Is that Pride and Prejudice?” He calmly closed the door behind him; Baci would let them know when she wanted back inside.

“I don’t know,” Jimmy answered immediately, then seemed to realize how childish he sounded and frowned at the couch for a moment. “I guess,” he amended. “Probably.”

Javier gentled his voice but made his point anyway. “Everyone knows who Colin Firth is. Because of that thing.” Jimmy set his jaw as though he had an argument he wasn’t going to make, so Javier added, “and that Bridget Jones or whatever.” And then, because it would make Jimmy’s relatives squirm, “And Mamma Mia.”

“Rhonda loves that movie. Fuck you. She put it on when I was over there.” This was muttered, but at least Jimmy was starting to look less squirrely.

Tiny’s wife did love Mamma Mia. But Javier suspected that Jimmy’s opera-loving ass was fond of it too, and would probably enjoy more musicals if given the chance.

Javier left that unsaid. “You can keep watching. I’m going to go stash this stuff in the bedroom.”

It was not, technically, his bedroom, or even their bedroom. Not on the lease anyway. Javier still had his bedroom in Peyo’s house next door. But when he’d told Jimmy he’d be hiding presents in their bedroom, Jimmy hadn’t objected. He’d even cleared out space in the closet.

“Nah, I don’t need to watch the rest, it’s okay,” Jimmy denied anyway.

Javier studied him without moving, letting shopping bag handles dig into his arms. He stared until Jimmy fidgeted and said, “What? It’s fine. I don’t need to keep watching.”

Then Javier just said, very softly, “It’s okay if you’d rather watch it by yourself. But I wouldn’t spoil it for you if you let me join you. I’ve never seen it. Just that other one.”  

Jimmy put his head back like this was an unexpected blow. “You saw that one?”

Javier nodded. “In the station believe it or not. And no, it was not me or Scotty who put it on. Hmm. I did read one of her books, Austen’s I mean, in college, but not this one. So definitely no spoilers from me.”  

“Oh.” Jimmy shifted from foot to foot once, restless or indecisive. “I didn’t put this on either. But it came on.”

“And it was so good that you stopped what you were doing to watch?” Javier couldn’t help his smile or the teasing, but getting Jimmy to forget his fight-or-flight reactions to these things always felt good. Like a reward or a gift shared between the two of them. But he didn’t push the teasing despite how he probably could have now. “You want something to eat? I can do that next and bring it to you while you watch.”

Jimmy narrowed his eyes, but then dipped one shoulder, looking so adorably bashful and fierce at the same time that Javier hid a sigh. “Yeah. Thanks. You don’t have to, but thanks. I… you can join me, if you want. I can start over.”

“I’m not going to make you do that.” Javier wouldn’t have anyway, but also he vaguely thought that version was long and he had already worn himself out with the drive to Riverton and then shopping, and was probably going to take a nap even if he tried not to. It wasn’t worth it to start it all over for him now. “But you could fill me in while I make us some sandwiches?”

Jimmy wiped the amazed look off his face quickly, but Javier still caught it. He didn’t comment, though. He went to the bedroom, then came into the kitchen to wash his hands and get out what was left of the roast they’d made the other day and every condiment within reach.

“You want me to make you some coffee?” Jimmy asked from the kitchen doorway, watching Javier with his hands in his pockets, somehow still looking bashful and fierce. He accepted that Javier wasn’t going to laugh at him or mock him, but was unable to quite shake old fears. “You look tired. The old man drive you crazy today?”

“Tempting,” Javier admitted. “But I had two coffees at the mall already.”

He was focused on slicing bread and so didn’t realize Jimmy had moved. He put down the knife to reach for some onion and felt Jimmy’s breath on the back of his neck a second before Jimmy wrapped an arm around him. 

“Thank you.”

Javier didn’t think Jimmy was talking about the food with that soft, sweet whisper, although it was just possible. He turned until he could press a quick kiss to the side of Jimmy’s face. Jimmy’s cheek was hot and held the faint impression of one of the couch cushions, as if he’d been watching Pride and Prejudice with his face smushed against a pillow.

Javier kissed him again. “So, what were you watching before to make the channel suggest this?”

It got him a whine and more grumbling. “Javi.”

“It’s just a question,” Javier answered with innocence that might have seemed false to Jimmy, because he sighed deeply.

Then, without meeting Javier’s eye, said, “I wanted something Christmas that wasn’t anything I used to watch with them.”

Them being all the Rizzos except his ex-wife, who was a Rizzo by marriage-of-convenience and so didn’t really count as a Rizzo to Javier. Not like the rest of those assholes. She had sent them a Christmas card.

Javier held all those thoughts in, waiting for Jimmy to continue to explain, which he would if he wanted to.

Which he must have, because he angled his face to keep his gaze away but ask for another kiss, and then muttered, clearly embarrassed, “So a few years ago, I got in the habit of watching those holiday rom coms. The bad ones.”

“The bad ones?” Javier echoed, mostly because his impression of those Hallmark TV movies was that they were all bad.

Jimmy gave a tight shrug. “You know, the ones with the city girls, and the small towns covered in Christmas shit that nobody in their right mind fucking does. Like not even people who live in towns with Christmas tourism go that fucking nuts for it. But… they’ve got the colors and everything, and snow in ‘em a lot of the time and it don’t snow here. And they’ve almost always got really welcoming families in those insane Christmas towns and I…”

He stopped, abruptly and obviously.

“Ah.” Javier grabbed Jimmy by the collar of his t-shirt and pulled him closer until their eyes met.

“Aw, Javi,” Jimmy whined again, but apparently for a different reason. “Now, I gotta kiss you. It ain’t fair.”

Javier didn’t have time to get offended. Jimmy put hands on either side of his face and kissed him, slow and careful, without the hunger Javier had been expecting. He pulled back, then came in again to offer Javier another, even softer kiss, before saying, “You didn’t get out the good mustard.”

“Sorry,” Javier answered automatically.

Jimmy bobbed his head, cheered by food and the preparation of it, or the kiss, or being in the kitchen with Javier, which he had said many times was his favorite place to be “in the whole goddamn world.” He went to the fridge himself for the mustard, leaving Javier to watch him and shiver and think about what was left of the afternoon.

He cleared his throat. “We can eat, and I’ll tell you all about Peyo ditching me at the mall for a date,” or a hookup, “with his current old lady romantic partner.” It made Jimmy snort a laugh, so Javier continued. “Then, if you want, we can go back to your movie. Or wrap presents. Or and wrap presents, if you want. Whatever you want, Jimmy.” Javier had just heard enough carols in the mall to last him until next Christmas, but, “We could even listen to carols. There’s sure be a playlist somewhere. Whatever you want. I mean it.”

“I do not want carols,” Jimmy huffed. He went stiff, then relaxed. Not completely, but enough. “It’s a tough time of year for people like me. That’s all.”

Javier forced himself to turn back the counter so Jimmy wouldn’t have to keep inventing reasons to go hide his face in the fridge. “I know, baby.”

That was said just to hear the grumbled, “Fucking baby, he says. Il mio coure.” Jimmy closed the refrigerator door, though, then paused. “You need anything else for these?”

Javier made his voice overly sweet. “Peppers if you want them, baby.”

He got a pissy look for it, but Jimmy did go back into the fridge for the jar. He put it on the counter. “How about a tea if not coffee, huh?” he offered. Then, while fussing with the kettle said over his shoulder, as if it were no big deal, “So—there is this family that has all daughters, okay? Like five of ‘em and none of them are married.”

“Okay,” Javier agreed, and hid his smile.   

[lovekz]

anger (2)

synopsis ~  they warned you. on multiple occasions. “the haitani brothers settle for no one” “nothing you can do will keep him down” “he can’t be yours when he’s everyone’s” but you never listened, did you? now here you are, going through the five stages of grief

cw: hate sex, slight noncon, baby trapping, arguing, toxic!rindou

(i would put mdni but that isn’t gonna stop yall anyway)

when you finished, you placed rindou’s phone on the small table next to the couch and tossed the blanket over your head.

you had no reason to not believe the pictures now, especially after you’d seen a picture of the lady herself. 

shortly after you finished reading and closed the phone, she sent a picture of herself wearing the coat you bought him specifically for his birthday.

you had asked him where it was, and he said ran had it. you should’ve asked him about it.

you heard footsteps approaching you from behind and didn’t bother to turn and face him.

“where’s my phone?” rindou said, tearing the sheets off your head.

he paused when he took in your features, not expecting to see you so bruised and upset.

his body language showed that he suddenly remembered everything that happened last night.

“look for it. i don’t know where ran put it.” you said, voice still hoarse from crying.

rindou hadn’t moved from his spot, just like you hadn’t looked him in his eye.

he was aware what he did last night was entirely wrong, but he didn’t know what else to say. so he said one thing.

“if you’d left me alone last night, you wouldn’t look like that.” rindou muttered, picking up his phone and sitting on the cushion opposite of you.

you were glad you had a L shaped couch.

“because that’s a good reason to lay your hands on me.” you muttered back, holding onto the cushion to help yourself stand up.

you wobbled to the kitchen to wash the dish that sat on the floor next to you, wincing in pain. rindou did nothing to stop you.

“where’s my son?” he asked, now noticing the awful silence.

you looked back at him with a confused face. was he only now noticing his son wasn’t present? with all the silence in this house, he only now noticed?

“with his uncle, rinnie.” you replied, the last part being quieter that the first.

“what did you say?” rindou asked, now suddenly behind you.

you cleared your throat and looked back at him, feeling him place his hand on the bruise he’d given you.

your eyes widen as you gripped his hand, tears building in your eyes. he pressed harder the more you squirmed and whined.

“sweetheart. i said sweetheart.” you whispered, pain jolting throughout your body.

he hummed in content and let go, making you double over in pain. he didn’t hesitate to catch you, rubbing your back in soothing circles.

“why can’t you just. love me?” you sobbed, gripping onto his shirt tightly. 

“i do.” he said, lifting you up off your injured foot.

he carried you to bed without another word.

~

the entire time you were injured, rindou had taken care of you.

 he spared you kisses that you couldn’t bring yourself to return, he’d run you baths to make sure you were comfortable, made you breakfast, lunch and dinner, and even going as far as to wrap your ankle medically.

he had given you the love you had previously craved.

but you weren’t craving it anymore. no. you had craved answers from him.

“what do you want for dinner?” rindou asked, walking into the bedroom. he was wearing gloves and an apron.

“i’m not hungry.” you said, rolling over to lock eyes with him.

he hummed quietly, taking the gloves and apron off. you didn’t watch him, only rolling onto your side again. you were getting better, you didn’t need him to fake anything anymore.

you felt him crawl over your body, kissing you softly. for once in a while, you kissed back. he rolled you onto your back softly, lifting one of your legs up.

he pulled away and looked into your eyes. you could see the lust that clouded his eyes.

“just for an hour, pretty. be mine.” he whispered, wrapping your leg around his waist.

feeling as though you were under a trance, you nodded.

just for tonight, you thought, you’ll let yourself go.

~

when you were finally up and moving on your own, you allowed ran to bring haru back into your home.

haru was overly happy to be back, only you didn’t quite welcome him in just yet.

“hmm. where’s my haru at?” you asked playfully, looking around. 

haru giggled from next to ran, who looked a little too proud of himself.

“i’m here mommy!” haru giggled, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“i dunno! i only see ran’s little mini!” you said, shrugging.

ran had deliberately did haru’s hair just like his, a (purposeful) messy up and down while they both wore a sweatshirt too big for your liking.

when haru began pouting, you pulled him into a strong hug, making him giggle and hug you back. 

“oh i missed you.” you said, pulling away and kissing his cheek.

haru giggled and bolted past you and into the house. nothing could ever beat his original spiderman.

“so.” ran started quietly, inviting himself in as he would usually do.

“how’ve things been?” ran asked, closing the door and locking it.

you sighed quietly and leaned against the wall, closing your eyes. how have things actually been? rindou had gone back to how he was, and barely left the house. always made it back on time, and even made dinner on his off days.

but why weren’t you happy? this was what you wanted.

“it’s.. i don’t know.” you sighed, closing your eyes.

“weird? not going great? not what you expected?” ran asked, listing off a few things of what you would think.

“not what i expected.” you said, sitting on the step and looking up at him. 

he sat next to you and sighed, looking at you. 

“did you speak to him about it?” ran asked, raising one of his eyebrows.

he had left you to do things at your pace when he had haru, but now he wasn’t so sure that was the best idea.

but now that he mentioned it, no. you hadn’t spoken to rindou about what you found. nor did you acknowledge the way he would get messages and be partially glued to his phone while taking care of you.

your silence was what gave ran his answer.

“tonight. when he comes in, speak to him.” ran said, nudging your shoulder slightly to get your attention.

“why are you helping me? do you like me or something?” you asked, looking at him in confusion.

ran let out a small laugh and pinched your neck. something he’d do if you said something not so smart.

“trust me, honeysweet. if i liked you, rin wouldn’t have you so hellbent over this.” ran said, standing up and walking over to haru.

~

that night, after you tucked haru into bed, you sat in the living room waiting for rindou to come home.

and when he walked in, you stood up from your seat. rindou almost flinched at the sudden movement, and almost pulled his gun out.

but when he seen it was you, his expression relaxed and he took off his shoes.

“babe, i told you not to stay up for me.” rindou said, walking over to you slowly.

“who is she?” you asked, getting straight to the point and looking at him.

rindou paused in his steps, looking confused. “huh?” he said confused, taking off his coat and resting it on the couch next to him.

“pretty girl. is that what you call her?” you asked, turning to meet his now stone cold face.

rindou stared at you, his expression emotionless. you picked up your phone and showed him the messages.

“you went through my phone.” rindou said, glaring at you and standing up.

“who is she?” you repeated, your voice getting louder by the second.

rindou scoffed, muttering a few words while rolling his eyes.

“no one tops you.” rindou said, staring into your eyes.

“not what i asked.” you glared back, mimicking his pose.

“she’s nothing to me.” rindou said, walking closer to you and unbuttoning his shirt slowly.

“not. what. i. asked.” you repeated again, watching him closely.

“why does it matter?” rindou asked, placing his hands on your waist.

“because you don’t get the fucking beauty of having two women on your side twenty four seven!” you scoffed, shoving him away from you.

rindou’s demeanor shifted as he grabbed you by your neck and slammed you against the wall, making you gasp.

“i told you, baby. you’re the only one for me.” rindou said, his tone sounding completely different. a familiar tone you haven’t heard in a while.

you couldn’t believe he was getting off on this. 

“rin..  i can’t do this.” you whispered, tears brimming your eyes. you didn’t even know why you were about to cry.

he shushed you quietly, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling you into a small kiss.

“lemme make it up to you, okay? i won’t do it again.” rindou whispered, sucking on your jaw.

~

you cried out loudly as he pushed into you for the nth time that night, feeling him stuff your panties into your mouth.

“fucking bitch. you want haru to come see how much of a slut his mommy is?” rindou grunted, pounding into you ruthlessly.

he pushed your head down and made you arch your back more, watching your eyes roll back into your head.

after the third round, his words started to get meaner, and his pace picked up more force. 

“what’re you thinking about? hm?” rindou growled, pulling you up by your throat and glaring down at you.

when you didn’t respond, he pulled the panties out of your mouth and slapped your ass.

“speak whore.” rindou said, pounding into you faster.

“just wanna cum! please let me!” you whimpered, arching into him more.

rindou chuckled and slapped your clit, making you jolt and bite your lip.

“you’re not cumming this time. got a fat fucking load for you.” rindou said, pushing himself against your g-spot and grinding into you.

you let out a silent moan and leaned your head back against him, grinding your hips against him as well.

“gonna put a fucking baby in you. keep you busy with a fuckin baby.” rindou groaned, starting to thrust in and out of you again.

that was what snapped you back into reality. 

you started to squirm away from him, making the stronger male laugh and pin you into the couch again.

“please don’t!” you gasped, still trying to pull away from him.

rindou ignored you, his erratic pounding suddenly returning. you cried out in pleasure, your grip faltering.

“won’t leave me if you carry my bastard child now, hm?” rindou asked, slapping you in your face a couple times.

he groaned and leaned forward, trapping you into the couch. he was close, you could feel it.

“pull out!” you cried, still trying to pull away from him. you couldn’t have his child, not again.

his hips paused, and you felt it. his hot, sticky cum filling your insides. rindou’s harsh breathing could be felt on your back, and you couldn’t stopped the tears from pouring out of your eyes.

rindou pulled out slowly, before you felt something pushed into your sloppy hole.

“gotta make sure it’s not wasted. i want a girl this time, okay?” rindou said, patting your ass softly and tossing his coat over your naked body.

you listened as he picked up his phone and yours, before heading upstairs.

you curled into yourself and sobbed, pulling your hands over your head.

~

the next few days, you couldn’t bring yourself to face anyone, or smile at your son at all. ran had noticed, but you hadn’t said anything to him.

you didn’t want to bring up that night to anyone but the person that did it. you were ashamed of yourself for falling into that trap.

you stay bent over the toilet, vomiting everything up from breakfast. ran stood beside you silently, rubbing his head in slow circles.

“this is the third time this week, honeysweet.” ran said, leaning back against the counter while looking at the ceiling.

you pulled away from the toilet and turned to him. he was wearing his suit. was he about to go to work before dropping haru off to school?

“i told you, it’s because i ate something bad.” you muttered, washing your mouth and face.

ran looked at you with a frown. if he didn’t have a clue what was going on, he would have definitely taken you to the hospital. but he knew what was going on.

rindou boasted about it to him and sanzu already. he just wasn’t sure if it was true. but if it was, there was no way to help you until the baby dropped.

“hey.. maybe you should take a test.” ran said, pulling a test from out of his pocket. he picked it up on the way.

you looked up at him from the toilet, holding back your tears. “okay.” you whispered, taking it from him.

~

as soon as it read positive, you immediately called rindou. you knew you were pregnant, but the test confirmed it.

“hello? what’s up?” rindou answered, obviously concerned. you never called when he was at work, especially an hour in.

“please.” you sobbed, a tight grip on your phone. 

“are you okay? did something happen?” rindou asked, movement heard from the other side of the phone.

“i can’t have this child rindou.” you sobbed louder.

the other side of the phone grew silent, making you nervous.

“you’re pregnant? oh my god, i can’t believe it.” he said loudly, and a load of gasps and cheers were heard from the background.

it was a done deal.

[wysteria-clad]

Viscountess' orders.

paring: Anthony Bridgerton x wife! dom!reader

warnings: mentions of Edmund's death, smut, descriptions of consensual sex, dom/sub dynamic, oral sex, vaginal sex.

do not read this if you are a minor

a/n: gifs are mine, give credit if you use ✧*。

--------

One would think Anthony Bridgerton would find himself be more relaxed now that he has married the love of his life and found his Viscountess, but it was proved to be quite the opposite.

After reminding him numerous time to take respite, when he still had not heed the reminder, the new Mrs Bridgerton took the matters in her own hands.

The clock at their bedroom read quarter past one. She made her way to his study.

"Ahem" she knocked on the wide open door, lightly knocking it and clearing her throat.

He didn't seem to notice her.

"My lord" her eyes watched her husband blink his eyes forcefully, as if that would keep the sleep at bay. She kept her tone soft, not to alarm him at the same time.

That's it.

"My lord" she placed her hands on her hip, tilting her head to the side. This time her voice was bit louder.

His fingers held the quill still, pausing from writing on the pile of ledgers neatly stacked on the writing table. His frown disappeared as soon his deep brown eyes met her (y/e/c) ones. A soft smile eased into his face without restrain.

He couldn't help but smile in her presence. He found himself quite relaxed, and even happy, just seeing her and basking in her presence— his lovely wife.

His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall before looking back at Y/n. "Ah" he gave her a sheepish smile. "I did not notice the time"

"I know" she smiled at him knowingly. Her feet inched closer to his desk.

She knew the effect of Edmund's death on her husband, on his whole family, now her family and responsibility. Her lips curved into a small smile. Her family.

She was fully aware of how Edmund's death shaped Anthony to be the man he is today, aware of the circumstances forcing him to take the role of the father figure to his younger siblings while taking on the role of the Viscount, as well the head of the family and take care of them. And she was determined to take care of him.

His eyes noted the way her hips moves, her pale green dress wafting gracefully behind her.

She stood behind him, placing both of her hands on his shoulder, kneading it, eliciting a contented sigh. She felt him relax under her touch. She bent down, her soft lips hovered just over the skin on his neck.

"You should get some rest, my lord" she whispered in his ear, her smooth voice was smooth, just like her silk dress.

"Y/n, I told you to call me Anth-"

He was unable to finish his sentence as she pressed her lips against neck.

Her canines slightly grazing his bobbing throat as he swallowed his words. She continued leaving trail of love bites along his neck.

"You, my lord, are expected to obey my every order tonight" she licked the sore spot in soothing manner, emphasizing on 'Lord'.

He angled his head to give her better access, she stopped herself from giggling, his stubbled jaw caressing her soft cheek in a tickling manner.

"Can you comply, my love?" she now started to gently kiss the skin along his jaw line.

He should shave soon. She thought. She decided to remind him later.

She moved to the front to sit on his lap, straddling him and pushing away the mahogony desk. The annoying sound on the floor completely unnoticed by the passionate, immersed couple. She moved her hips up and down, right on his groin, eliciting a throaty moan from him.

"Speak, Anthony" she switched her tone, her hot breath near his ear, causing goosebumps all over his skin.

"Yes, my Viscountess" he managed to breathed out, looking at her with half lidded eyes.

His words sent shivers up her spine.

His Viscountess.

His.

She was his, as he was hers.

Her palms cupped the sides of his neck, her thumbs softly caressing his cheek and she continued to grind.

His breath was hot against her lips. He inhaled her scent like as if it was his favourite scent in the world— crushed rose petals.

They did not waste time to discard the unnecessary clothes. Within seconds, it was scattered on the desk and the floor.

When he inched closer to capture her lips, her fingers threaded his hair, gripping it and yanking it back.

"Not yet, Anthony" she cupped his face with one hand, other hand still gripping his hair. "Beg"

A simple command.

She put her thumb inside his mouth, parting his tempting lips apart. Feeling pleased after he sucked her thumb, she lowered her hand, trailing a single finger down, from his chest past his v line. She smirked feeling his hardened cock.

It was driving him pleasurably mad.

She was driving him mad. A sweet torture.

His heart raced faster like it was going to explode, his eyes filled with pure lust.

"Hard already?" she teased him.

Her touch was his ambrosia.

Relinquishing control after being the one in control for a long time was tempting, and he did not resist in giving it up. He yearned to relax and enjoy the pleasure of her touch, the sweet release.

"I beg you, my Viscountess" the words fell from his lips without any restrain, with relief.

He trusted her. He trusted her enough to be completely vulnerable with her. And she would never break his trust.

He loves me enough to trust me. Warmth filled her core, she pursed her lips to restrain that happy sob stuck in her throat.

She pressed her lips against his lips in a passionate movement, both of their breaths mingling, she parted her lips slightly, letting his tongue in. She pulled back.

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion at the lack of contact, a frown on his face. It quickly dissolved into a blissful smile as she moved her lips to his neck, down his chest, following the invisible trail with her lips, which was left by her finger moments ago, her free hand still stroking the base of his hardened cock. She moved her thumb upwards, stroking his tip dripping with pre cum. She paused for a second, glancing at his face to make sure he is comfortable.

He bucked his hips, looking visibly strained to keep it in control, waiting for her orders.

She decided not to tease him anymore and took his hardened cock in her mouth, eliciting a deep moan and a blissful sigh from him.

He gripped her hair, leaning back on his chair.

Her tongue did the work.

"I don't think i can hold it" he hissed. "Please, Y/n, my love-"

She pulled back, moving her lips back to his mouth, pulling him even closer.

"Wait...wait until i say so" she breathed in between the kisses. She adjusted her position, lowering herself into him.

"Agh. Agh!" she moved up and down, increasing the pace and gripping his shoulders tight. "Anthony" her breath hitched.

His fingers stroked the nape of her neck, encouraging her every move and guiding her.

"Now, now, Anthony!" she cried out. Both of them experienced the sweet release. Their breathes slowed down, their hearts beating in familiar rhythm.

He rested his head on her shoulder. She rubbed his neck in soothing manner. "Was that alright?", she frowned, "Did i cross any line-"

"It was perfect, my love" he smiled at her concern. Her worry to make sure he felt safe and comfortable. "You were perfect" he assured her with his smile and his words. "You are perfect, my Viscountess" he whispered, kissing the soft skin between her breasts.

"Shall we get back to bed now, my lord?" she smiled, gently stroking his right cheek with her thumb.

"How can I not comply my lady's orders?" he gave her a quick kiss and a wide smile.

She let out a squeal when he slipped his arms under her and picking her up, heading towards their bedroom.

[doctorstethoscope]

A Direct Order (18+) || A. Hotch x Fem!Reader

Hello my loves! I hope those of you that had a long weekend were able to enjoy it :). Combining two similar requests for this one! 

Submit your requests here!

from @all-hallows-reid (which has maybe deactivated?? I can’t find u bestie):  How about fem!reader secretly dating Aaron (with a twelve year age gap). She takes a stupid risk and almost gets hurt. Suffice it to say he’s not happy, and punishes her accordingly on the jet or when they get home.

and from @mrandmrshotchner:  Disobeying a direct order and Hotch punishing reader for it

I hope you both love this one!! 

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Sir kink, spanking, praise kink, degradation kink, penetrative sex.

wordcount: 2.2k

“I see the girl,” you whispered into your comms device from the back row of pews at a church in Mittburn, Iowa, nearly 200 miles away from where this child abduction case had started. “He’s concealing a hand behind her, could be a weapon,” you relayed to the team. The church was mostly empty, the service having ended. A few parishioners and the priest were still milling around, and your unsub, Phillip Rishi, was leading seven-year-old Abigail Torres to the altar. 

“Agent, do not engage-- Rishi is devolving and we don’t know what he’ll do. Wait for backup.” You heard Hotch, although you wished you hadn’t. 

Technically, you wouldn’t be breaking a rule if you got up and followed Rishi a little more closely-- and Aaron didn’t have eyes on you, anyways. What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. So you slipped out of the pew, kept your head facing mournfully towards the ground, and knelt at the altar, Rishi and the girl to your left. He still had her in front of him, concealing her with his body-- so you couldn’t get a good look at her, to make sure she was okay. You made a half-assed attempt at praying, hoping you were fooling the people around you when you tilted your head at a flash of light-- Rishi had a knife, was tracing the planes of the young girl’s cheekbones, and she was crying.

You gasped, quickly diving across the altar and forcing Rishi off of Abigail. He thrashed as Abigail screamed and ran into the arms of the priest. You wrestled Rishi to the ground, pulling the knife out of his hand and tossing it out of his reach before cuffing him and reading him his Miranda rights. 

As you stood back up, you turned around and noticed Hotch bursting through the door, his face making it perfectly clear that he had heard everything that had gone down through his comms. Oh, man. You were totally fucked.

Aaron asks if you’re okay, which you are, and then the two of you don’t speak. You don’t speak on the jet ride home, you don’t speak as you drive the FBI SUVs back to Quantico, and you don’t speak at the office before you leave for the night. 

You last for all of an hour after leaving the office before you can’t take it anymore. You throw your go bag in your car and take off towards Aaron’s place, walking up to his door and knocking before you can talk yourself out of it. He looks surprised to see you, but doesn’t ask you to leave, which you take as a win. 

“I’m here for my punishment,” you tell him as you slip past him into the apartment, and he rolls his eyes-- not his typical, “my young, playful, sexy girlfriend is driving me crazy” eye roll, but a genuinely disdainful “this young girl is too much to handle” kind of an eye roll. A pang of something you don’t recognize flashes in your chest-- guilt? Betrayal? You push it aside-- that wasn’t what you came here to do. “We’re not the couple that doesn’t talk. If you want to yell, you can yell, but we don’t shut each other out. That’s not us. So go ahead and get it out so we can move past it,” you attempt to sound cool and aloof, even if you are feeling a little vulnerable and desperate. 

   “You disobeyed a direct order,” Hotch says. 

“I did,” you agreed. 

“What, and you don’t even have an issue with it?” He asks you, his tone harsh. 

“He had a weapon, Hotch. And it was drawn on a little girl. What was I supposed to do?” You shot back.

“You were supposed to wait for backup. We hadn’t profiled that he would hurt her,” he tells you, the strain of contained rage in his tone.

“Is that a chance you would have taken? Is it a chance you would have wanted someone to take if it was your son?”

“It’s not a chance I would have taken-- but I can’t take chances with you, either,” he admits, and his confession hangs in the air for a moment. You realize this is his way of telling you how much he cares about you-- walls too high to be truly vulnerable, he has to shroud his disclosure in an argument. “You could have been hurt,” he tells you.

“I could have,” you agreed. “But I’m here, with you, and I’m okay,” you remind him, stepping closer to him, taking his hands in your own to ground him, remind him that everything had turned out okay this time. 

It takes a beat, but Aaron responds in kind, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer, and crushing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You smile into the kiss, letting Aaron lead you backwards towards his bedroom as you wind your fingers in his hair, letting your forearms rest on his shoulders. 

“Were you serious about your punishment?” Aaron asks, his voice somewhere between a whisper and a growl, and you smile. 

“Yes, sir.”

You can feel the air shift in an instant, as Aaron sits at the edge of his bed. “Come on, then. Over my knee,” he tells you impatiently, and you feel a rush of warmth in your core as you move to comply. He stops you. “Pants off. Panties too,” he tells you, and you strip from the waist down before climbing across his lap. He lays his hand against your ass and you feel goosebumps form against his tender touch. 

“I think five is fair-- do you think five is fair, angel?” He asks, pulling your head up by the hair so you can look him in the eye. 

“Yes sir,” you agree-- he always asked before engaging in any sort of impact play, never wanted to give you more than you could handle, and you appreciated it-- even if five did seem like it would be a walk in the park. 

He lands a swift spank against your bare ass cheek and you feel it flood your center almost immediately. “One. Thank you for my spanking, Sir,” you let out almost as if it were a reflex. 

“Good girl,” he encourages you, rubbing at the tender flesh before his hand comes down against the opposite cheek.

“Two, thank you for punishing me, Sir.”

“You’re welcome, angel. Just a few more,” he encourages you, his sweet words a direct contrast to the sharp pain of his hand coming back down against you. 

“Three, thank you Sir.” 

“You belong to me, kitten. I need you to take good care of what’s mine, that’s all,” he reminds you with another spank. 

“Four, thank you Sir. Thank you for taking good care of what’s yours,” you affirm, and he delivers your last spank. 

“Five, thank you Sir,” you breathed out as your hips rocked, incredibly turned on before he had even truly touched you.

Aaron wrapped his arms around you, moving to hold you close for a moment. “There, sweet girl. I need you to help me to take good care of you-- you are very special. It’s my job to make sure nothing happens to you, but I need your help, okay?” 

“Yes, sir,” you tell him, reaching out to hold his face in your hands. 

“Good. Color?” 

“Green, sir.” 

He nods, permission granted to continue, shifting to help you off his lap and onto the bed. “Ass up, slut,” he commands gruffly, and by now you’re certain that you’re dripping down your thighs. You’d find out soon enough, you supposed, as you leaned onto your elbows and knees, raising yourself into a kneeling position, legs spread for Aaron. You heard, rather than saw, Aaron disrobing, which only added to your arousal. 

You feel the mattress dip as Aaron pulls himself up behind you. 

“Oh angel, you’re dripping. Nasty whore,” he smirks, sticking one finger inside of you, but withdrawing it immediately when you rolled against him. “Ah, ah.” he warns you. “Don’t try that again.”

So you hold still, as he pumps one and then two fingers in and out of you. You moan, cry out, beg for more-- but you don’t move.

“Sir, please,” you pant.

“You can move, sweet girl,” he grants you permission, and you start rocking your hips into his fingers immediately, wantonly, letting out a moan that makes Aaron’s cock twitch painfully. You shift your weight onto one elbow, moving one hand towards your center, which Aaron bats out of the way, slapping your swollen clit. 

“Fuck!” you cry out. 

“I said you could move. I didn’t say anything about touching, slut. Don’t make me tie you up, too.” He warns you. 

Half of you hoped that he would, but you were already desperate to cum and you didn’t know how much more you could take. You doubled down on your thrusts into Aaron’s hand, whimpering and panting the whole way. Just as you were about to topple over the edge, Aaron pulled his hand out of you, and you whimpered. 

“Sir,” you said weakly. You hadn’t been expecting that, and you wanted to cum so bad you thought you might cry. 

“Ah ah. What do you say?” He asks. 

“Thank you. Thank you for edging me, Sir,” you panted out, still coming down from your near-miss. 

“That’s my good little whore,” he cooed out. “I want you to ask permission tonight, angel. Color?”

“Green, sir.” You affirmed. “I won’t cum until you give me permission.

“Good, angel, good,” he said, lazily rubbing at your clit, and you whimpered. You’d never come like this, but you’d get increasingly more frustrated. “And why do you need to wait for permission?’ 

“Because I’m Sir’s dirty little whore,” you moaned out, the words turning you on even more as you attempted to grind down on Aaron’s hand. 

“That’s right, good girl,” he said, stepping away from you. “All fours, my love,” he tells you, and you roll up to your knees and elbows. You hear a foil wrapper tear, and without warning Aaron is stretching you. It feels delicious, makes you heady, and you cry out as he starts thrusting in and out of you. 

“You make me feel so good, sweet girl. You’re such a good girl, taking me so well and making such pretty noises. Do I make you feel good?”

“Yes sir, you make me feel so good,” you affirm, the words coming out in a shaky breath. After a few moments, you feel the coil begin to wind up inside of you. 

“Sir, may I please cum?” You ask. 

“No, not yet.” He answers simply, like you’d asked him if it had started to rain, or if dinner was ready. 

“Please, sir. Please, please let me cum,” you begged. 

“Not. Yet,” he affirmed, leaning forward to paw at your clit, which caused you to cry out. “Are you going to thank me?” Aaron asks, but you’re too overwhelmed to understand the question. “Are you going to thank me when I make you come?” He asks. 

“Yes, sir, please please make me come.” 

“Go ahead, angel,” he tells you, and the rubber band snaps. 

“Thank you sir, thank you, thank you, thank you,” you scream as you buck against him. He guides you through your orgasm, gently brings you back to reality once the pleasure has subsided, holding you gently and whispering words of encouragement in your ear. 

“I have to clean you up, sweet girl. Is it okay if I get up, or do you need me to stay here a little while longer? It’s okay if you do. You did such an amazing job,” he assures you, and you nod. 

“I’m okay, hon. Bring back water, please? And maybe some fruit snacks.” 

He rolls his eyes at you, again, but it’s the endearing kind again, and you smile. The two of you would be okay.

After he cleans you up, you head to the bathroom to get ready for bed, and snuggle back into his arms as soon as you're back in bed.

“I was so scared, and I still had to be your boss, first, and I hate that,” Aaron tells you. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” you tell him, shifting so that you’re facing him. “It’s something we should talk about-- me transferring.” 

“That’s not what I meant. You’re not changing your career path for me,” he is quick to correct you. 

“What did you mean, then?” You asked. Surely he wasn’t thinking of stepping down?

“Well, I was hoping… that you might want to tell the team about us? I don’t want to rush you, so if it’s a no, that’s fine and I won’t bring it up again. I understand the professional risks are--” you cut him off with a kiss. 

“I only suggested it because I thought you wouldn’t want people to know.” You tell him. 

“Why wouldn’t I want the team to know how much I love you?” He asks, and you smile. Yeah, the two of you would be okay.  

  tagging: : @bauhousewife @just-a-fangirl-xd @angelic-kisses13 @sleepyreaderreads @ssamorganhotchner @wolviesbbeslrblg @xyzhoneybee@choppa-style @wanniiieeee @zheezs14@ssavanessa22 @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @ssahotchie @infinite-tides@itsmytimetoodream @hotforhotchner11 @hotchinkevlar @scuttling  

[katnissmellarkkk]

Drabbles ideas: Haymitch meeting toast baby girl for the first time and suddenly getting wrapped around her little finger

Oooo this is so presh thank you for this I hope i did it justice 😭🥺

“You did amazing,” Peeta whispers into my hair, pressing a kiss there before wiping my still sweat covered forehead with a wet cloth. “I’m so proud of you.”

I weakly reach up my free hand and thumb away the tear sliding down the side of his face. “I couldn’t have done this without you letting me break your hand,” I murmur, my eyes full of moisture as well.

My beautiful newborn baby, my little daughter, resides happily in the crook of my opposite arm, wrapped in a soft blanket, her little face puckered and pink. “She’s so pretty,” Peeta says again, reaching out and just barely grazing her tiny cheek, as if she’s a soap bubble, ready to pop if someone touches her wrong.

“I know,” I agree and I don’t know why but tears start flowing all over again. “I know, she’s perfect.”

My mother, who assisted — more like, directed — me through labor lightly knocks on the open bedroom door.

“Honey, you have a visitor,” she informs, keeping her voice light and soft. She works in the delivery section of the District Four hospital. She treads very carefully with postpartum women and their raging hormones.

“No,” I immediately refuse, not wanting anyone here but me and Peeta and our baby. Our baby.

My baby.

The thought, the new reality in which I’m only now accepting as fact — it was too hard to fully believe that things would be alright while I was pregnant. Even when she began to move inside of me I didn’t feel secure. Too often I’d seen things go wrong. Growing up, I’d seen my mother treat women who were on their third day of labor or who’s children came too soon. Who’s babies came out blue or who were bleeding in excess.

Sometimes those stories turned out alright. Sometimes those women had bouncing, happy babies and all worries and fears were adverted.

But sometimes they did not.

That sometimes has haunted me from the moment I found out I was carrying a new life inside of me, from the moment I found out that I was going to bring a new life into this world and be wholly responsible for it’s well-being.

To say I was petrified would be an understatement.

And not just about the actual delivery. I wasn’t just afraid of bringing my child into the world but about keeping her safe in it. About teaching her how to protect herself, how to go on when all else fails, how to prevent her from knowing the world as I did, how to protect her from all the hurt I found far too young in this life.

But the moment she arrived, crying in the sweetest high pitched soprano I’ve ever heard, all dark hair and angry fists and big, curious blue eyes, the fear I was consumed with paled in comparison to the utter joy, the utter disbelief, that this little person was mine. That I had made the single-handed most wonderful creature on this Earth and I would protect her, because nothing could ever get in my way of doing so.

Of course, Peeta was just as enamored and just as consumed with the tiny little creature as I was, just as in love and just as tearful at her mere presence.

I wasn’t ready for this moment to end, for Peeta and me and our little baby to have to endure any other company, to have to focus on anything but my daughter.

But then I hear a gruff voice and my reservations slowly and hesitantly melt away. “It’s just me, sweetheart,” Haymitch says as he passes by my mother, not waiting for an invite. “No need to get fancy on my account.”

“Hi, Haymitch,” I say, giving him an exhausted, watery smile.

He leans down and kisses my forehead lightly before clearing his throat, as if he too is in danger of getting emotional. “Glad that’s over,” he mumbles, taking a seat on the opposite side of the bed from Peeta.

“What?” We both say as the same time.

“The labor. I didn’t know how much longer I could endure the screaming.”

I roll my eyes, chuckling. His surly words were a thin disguise for the look in his eyes, staring down at my little girl.

“Do you want to hold her?” I ask, already knowing his answer.

Instantly I feel Peeta squeeze my hand in concern. Peeta may still be Haymitch’s favorite and he may be the mediator between the two of us most of the time but he’s still a new father and he isn’t ready to trust anyone besides us and my mother to hold his new baby.

Haymitch senses Peeta’s apprehension. “I better not. Your screams kept me up so I had a couple bottles of white.” I can smell his breath from my seat against the headboard and pillows, I know he hasn’t touched his liquor collection in at least a day.

Unfortunately I know how he smells when he drinks and this isn’t it.

He hasn’t showered any time recently but he’s currently sober as a judge.

“Haymitch,” I order in a stern tone, my emotions flying through the roof abruptly. “Hold my daughter.”

He doesn’t fight me now as I pass the most precious thing in the world to the man that kept me alive while half drunk once upon a time. Peeta’s anxiety hasn’t let up though and despite the fact that he won’t contradict me either — not after he watched me cry in agony for hours on end, as I birthed the child he put inside of me — he still looks towards my mother, lingering in the doorway, for help.

My mother quickly and expertly helps Haymitch cradle my baby properly, supporting her neck and keeping a tight but not choking hold on her.

There’s a long moment while we all stare at him, holding the newborn, watching the scene that a couple years ago I couldn’t even imagine unfolding. I couldn’t even picture a moment like this in my wildest imagination.

And even if I had, I definitely wouldn’t have pictured Haymitch looking towards me suddenly and murmuring, “she’s so beautiful.”

I don’t know why but I start crying and smirking and laughing all at once.

“She looks just like her mother,” Peeta adds, bringing my hand up to his mouth and planting a kiss on the center of my palm.

“She does,” my mother agrees, petting down my long, tangled hair.

“What’s her name?” Haymitch asks as he gently begins to rock my daughter ever so slightly.

“Indigofera Sky,” I whisper, looking at my husband one more time for confirmation. We almost named her Brie or Melody but once she was born, it didn’t feel quite right. She was an Indigo.

After all, that would be the natural nickname, right?

I suppose not to everyone. “Indy,” Haymitch murmurs almost immediately and I swat Peeta’s arm for laughing.

“Haymitch, that isn’t her name-“

“It’s okay,” my mother says, sensing my stress levels rising now, perhaps a little irrationally. “You’re her mother, you will dictate her nicknames.” She would know. She stipulated that no one ever shortens my name, from the moment I was born.

“Exactly,” I agree, looking over at Peeta again. He leans in and kisses my cheek, trying to get back on my good side.

Haymitch on the other hand could not be more oblivious right now if he tried. His sole focus stays on my daughter, his hand coming up to brush back her dark curls before pulling away, as if he’s afraid to even touch her little head.

It’s something I never even considered throughout my entire pregnancy. The notion that Haymitch now has a newborn in his life. And I’m glad I didn’t picture it before now.

Because I can’t imagine this moment being any sweeter and I don’t know why it warms my heart to see the grouchy old man look at my baby with such reverence, with such wonder and awe, but suddenly I feel like I’m going to cry for the tenth time today and I let out a huge sigh just as my child starts to cry again.

“She’s hungry,” Peeta murmurs as my girl reaches for me.

“Come here, baby,” I whisper, though she’s only hours old and can’t understand the words I’m cooing.

“Go to your mama, Indy,” Haymitch murmurs softly and just as I look up to glare, I see the same awe in his eyes as before. Only now it’s directed at me. “She’s going to give you such a good life.”

After that, I can’t be held responsible for my tears.

[holylulusworld]

Courting

Title: Courting

Square Filled for @spnabobingo​​​ (Round 6): Opposites attract

Ship: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester

Rating: Teen

Summary: When a tall and handsome alpha moves to town, you do something no one would expect from an omega.

Warnings: angst, pining, courting, shy reader, a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, sick reader, cuddling & snuggling, fluff

Word Count: 2,1 k

A/N: I found a cute headcanon about an omega courting for her chosen alpha on @omegaversethings​​ and turned it into a fanfiction. Thank you again. <3

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​​​​

You always were a ‘classic’ omega. Meek, silent and shy. You never dared to talk to a foreign alpha let alone introduce yourself to one.

But here you are, offering the new alpha in your neighborhood a homemade cherry pie. You hope Dean, that’s the name of the alpha giving you sleepless nights, will like it.

“Hi, uh-erm,” you stammer, eyes glued to the ground. “I know how it feels to be new in town and the neighborhood. I made a cherry pie. If you don’t like it, it’s okay.” Before the alpha can say anything you push the container with the pie in his hands to run off.

“What?” puzzled Dean watches you run toward your house. His eyes dart from the pie in his hand back to you struggling to unlock your door. “She just brought me pie…awesome.”

The alpha strolls back inside his house, grinning as you baked him his favorite pie. “Love me some pie.”

Over the next week, you spied on your neighbor. You tried to talk to him again, to give him more gifts but you’re not the only unmated omega in your neighborhood.

Last week Lisa offered her help with decorating his house.

Three days ago, Cassie parade along the street, wearing a skirt leaving little to nothing to your imagination, and right now, Bela tries to hit on Dean, purring for him.

You hate omegas like them as they always get the alphas you like. Being a shy omega, plain and meek, means a disadvantage when it comes to courting for an alpha.

“Not again, Bela-“ you growl low in your throat, rummaging in a paper bag. You bought random things for your chosen alpha to impress and court for him. “This one is mine…”

“Hi,” you whimper catching the tall alpha’s scent. You can feel his intense gaze on you and the heat creeps into your cheeks. “I-I,” for a second you look up at the alpha, give him a soft smile before you place a pair of socks in his hands.

“Hi,” he says but you are halfway on your way toward your house, whimpering as you can still smell his scent linger on your clothes.

“What?” Dean stands outside of his home, looks at the socks in his hands, puzzled. 

“Do you want to finish the kitchen now or not?” Sam asks, poking his head out of the door. “Dean? Is something wrong?”

“Last week she brought me a cherry pie and ran off, today it’s socks, with pie on them,” Dean huffs. “What’s going on?”

Sam starts laughing, he even holds his stomach at his brother’s puzzled expression.

“Dean,” Sam rolls his eyes at his brother’s question. “Did you really not realize you are being courted?”

“I get the pie, but why socks, Sammy? And since when do omegas court for an alpha,” Dean sniffs at the socks, growling low in his throat when he catches your scent. 

“Some omegas do court for an alpha. I just never thought Y/N would do so. She seemed to be shy and meek,” Sam smirks when Dean presses the socks to his chest. “Maybe you should talk to her?”

“Why? I got pie and socks,” Dean grins. “I will just wait for her to come back. Maybe she makes me food too.”

Watching Lisa talk to the alpha again you growl low in your throat. You waited patiently for Dean to come home and now that woman is chatting him up again.

“He’s mine,” you mutter. “Get your hands off my alpha. Can you just not be all over my alpha, all of you.” your hands ball into fists when Lisa giggles and her hands grip one of the tall alpha’s biceps.

“Hi,” you shuffle from one foot to the other, offering the container with food to the tall alpha. You still don’t meet his eyes, not even when he clears his throat.

“You know, you could just talk to me, Y/N,” chewing on your lower lip you lift your head to glance at the tall alpha. You don’t know why he knows your name, but your heart began to race when he said it. “Hi, I’m Dean and I liked your pie. What did you bring me today?”

“Uh-steak and green beans. Potatoes and sauce. I-I wanted to bring you pie too, but I can only carry one container,” nervously babbling you hand Dean the food, ready to run off again.

“Why don’t we share the food?” he offers, smiling softly. “You gave me all those nice things and I would like to-“ you dash toward your house, unbeknownst Dean just wanted to invite you. 

Your heart races and your head starts to spin when you slam the door shut to sink to your knees. 

“He-he talked to me,” you whine, sniffing at your hand. Dean brushed his fingers over your skin, and you can still scent him. 

Another day passes when you sneak toward Dean’s house. Right, when you try to knock he opens the door, offering a soft smile again. 

“Hi, Y/N,” he says, and you whimper when he says your name. “The food was delicious but I would’ve liked to share it with you. Why don’t you come inside?”

“I-I got a pie for you,” looking at the container with another pie and another pair of socks on top you bite your lower lip. “I hope you’ll like it.”

You try to hand it to Dean to run away once again but he steps outside, cups your face with two fingers to force you to look up at him. “Omega, come inside,” he says, and your heart does somersaults. “I want to share the pie with you. And,” he dips his head to catch your scent, “I cooked. Thought I should invite you over.”

“Y-you cooked,” you squeak when Dean moves his hand to your neck to brush your scenting gland. “I-I don’t know if I should-“

“Come inside, omega,” he says, voice deeper now, more commanding. You immediately drop your gaze and nod silently, knowing he just used his alpha voice. “I want to get to know you better, sweetheart.”

“O-kay…”

After you had dinner with Dean, you decided to think about better gifts. You assume he tried to be friendly and pay you back for your food, but you want him to know you courted for him.

“What can I bring him next?” pinching the bridge of your nose you sigh deeply. “Maybe new socks – no, I already did twice. Underwear – too obvious. Oh, maybe a hairbrush.”

A knock brings you out of your thoughts. You slowly get up, wondering who knocks at your door on a Sunday evening.

Sighing deeply, you make your way to the door, opening it to find Dean on your doorstep.

“Hi,” you gasp when Dean offers you a book and a chocolate box. “I wanted to come over and thank you for the delicious pie and food, and I’m wearing your socks.” He points at his feet. 

“A-are you-“ biting your tongue you look at the gifts in Dean’s hands. “Are you courting for me, alpha?”

“Thought you’ll never ask,” Dean grins, stepping closer to catch your scent. “Can we go out? I’d like to invite you for dinner, Y/N.”

“You are courting for me,” your heart flutters when Dean hands you the gifts. “Yes, uh-please. I’d like to go out with you, Dean.”

“How about Saturday?” he asks, demanding an answer. The alpha makes his interest known when he looks at your mating gland. “Omega?”

“Yes, I got time,” you nod eagerly, gifts pressed tightly to your chest now. 

“Awesome. I’ll pick you up at six,” he says, giving you a once over before he nods to himself. “I’ll be seeing you, Y/N.”

When he turns to leave you must stop your heart from racing. You watch him waltz toward his house, giving you a little show when he purposely stops at his mailbox to raise to his full height and rolls his shoulders.

“Damn,” you bite your lower lip, squealing when he turns around to give you a wink. “He’s so tall and handsome…and cocky. Oh-God-where-did-I-get-myself-into?” you babble, walking back inside your house.

“Omega, Y/N? Did you change your mind?” Dean mutters, knocking at your door. “It’s quarter past six.”

“Hi,” you cough, barely finding the strength to hold the door open. “’m sorry but I don’t feel good.” you whine, hating you must turn Dean down. “I got a terrible cold and I’m freezing and I’m hot all the time.”

“Jesus,” Dean immediately scoops you into his arms to carry you toward your couch. He looks you all over, presses one large palm to your forehead. “You’re burning up, sweetheart. I’m gonna help you out of your sweaty clothes. You’ll have a hot bath while I get you something, okay.”

“Uh-“ you sigh, eyes fluttering close, “you can’t see me naked, Sir…” you drift into sleep, mumbling something about pancakes when you suddenly feel like you are floating on air. “Wait!”

“It’s okay, Y/N. I will prepare the bath and you can undress. I’ll just go back to my house and get something for you. ‘K?”

Humming you rest your head against Dean’s shoulder, let him carry you upstairs to look for your bedroom. 

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“Second room to the left,” you whine, nuzzling your face in Dean’s shoulder. “I can’t scent you.”

“You’re sick, sweetheart. Lemme just get you comfortable, Y/N,” he ushers inside your bedroom, carefully places you onto the bed before he looks for your bathroom, cursing as you almost roll off the bed. “Careful, omega. Hmm…guess I must stick around…”

Dean came back when you finally made it out of your bathtub.

You barely had the time to walk out of your bathroom when he stormed into your bedroom, blankets, pillows, and a few of his clothes tugged under one arm while he balanced a bowl of chicken soup with his other hand.

“I changed the sheets and tried to get you my clothes, blankets, and anything fluffy I could find at my place. It’s not much, though,” you purr when Dean puts everything on your bed to create a safe nest smelling like him. “Lie on the bed and I’ll help you get comfortable. I brought you chicken soup.”

“Soup? You made me soup?”

“Uh-I asked my mom how to make it,” Dean shrugs, explaining his mother always made chicken soup for him when he was a boy. “Now let me help you, Y/N.”

“You don’t have to, Dean,” you sigh, snuggling into one of his soft plaids. “Smells like you, I like it.”

“Yeah, everything smells like me,” he purrs, watching you relax on the nest he made for you. “You’ll smell like me too.” Dean hides he feels his heart swell when you rub his scent into your skin.

The primal part, his alpha purrs in delight, loves that you are covered with his clothes and scent.

“I’m so tired…”

“You need to eat something first, sweetheart,” Dean insists. He helps you sit while you claw at one of his shirts. You press the fabric to your nose, inhale his scent deeply, finally purring when he sits next to you to feed you with the soup.

“I wanna sleep, Dean,” you protest but Dean pushes the spoon carefully past your lips, smirking when you swallow the warm soup.

“Good, isn’t it?”

“Good,” you cough. “And tasty…”

“I got my stuff for the next few days. Food. Clothes. Toiletries and my phone and laptop. I can work from home and take care of you,” Dean explains, while he covers you with a warm blanket. 

You are wearing one of his plaids, and he can’t help the smile creep onto his face when you snatch another from the nest to cradle it in your arms.

“I called in sick,” you whisper, closing your eyes. 

“Good,” Dean crawls under the covers, not missing your breath hitches in your throat when he lies behind you to bring you in his arms. “I’m gonna take care of my omega.”

“Your omega?”

“Mine,” he kisses your mating gland, purring when you tilt your head to grant him more access. “When you are healthy again, I’m gonna take you out, or make you dinner, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t think I got a chance,” you mumble. “I’m shy and meek, you are so—” 

“I like you are shy and sweet,” he noses his way along your neck, breathing you in. “You smell so good, like – home.”

“Home,” you whisper happily. “You smell like safety and adventure at the same time. Musky and like a warm apple pie.”

“Did I tell you I loved your pie?” Dean licks his lips, “I love me some pie. My omega bakes the best pies in the world.”

“Your omega,” you hum, liking the sound of it…

Tags in reblog.

[starshipsofstarlord]

Starry Eyed

Natasha Romanoff x reader / masterlist

summary; during a meeting, natasha receives rather provocative photos of you, and though she is appreciative of the beauty that renders from the images, it was not the time nor the place for them to be sent / warnings; smut, degradation, mummy kink, use of sex toy, swearing, Dom!nat, oral on sex toy, oral sex (fem receiving) bratty!reader.

She, the infamous black widow prowled out of the meeting room, an intent stern in her emerald pools, as the trained assassin herself headed straight towards her quarters, where she knew her malishka would be, presumably occupying their shared bed with splayed and flamboyant legs that were spread so that whomever entered the domain would see everything on first hand display.

That thought only infuriated the redhead more, and so, with little effort, she thrust the bedroom door open, quickly slamming it behind herself, as she was met with the sight of you, phone in hand as you sat cross legged and completely nude upon the crisp black sheets. The woman licked her lips as she prowled closer, snatching the device out from your untrustworthy hands, and flinging it upon the floor, causing a furrow to erupt on your facial features.

“I was just trying to entertain you, Natasha.” That name earned yourself a quirked brow, and you gulped at the silent yet demanding expression that taunted you, forcing you instinctively to feel small and meek beneath it.

“What was that, whore?” The title made you whimper, as you pressed your thighs together as a means to relieve some tension that was brewing between their partition. A shaky breath withered from your mouth, as it made your bare chest rise, and you didn’t miss the way that Nat’s predatory eyes roamed your body.

“I meant mummy.” It came out as nothing short of a whisper, as you felt the woman loom over you, her dominating shadow reaching out to deliver a sharp and vivid slap to your cheek, spurring a stinging to erupt beneath the skin. “Sorry mummy.”

“Now that is how you should be acting little one, not teasing me like a slut. You realise anyone could have seen your little ‘innocent’ photo shoot, right? I mean Steve was sat right beside me, one glance over and he’d have turned back into a stiff and frozen man, that wouldn’t at all mind being stuck in an erect moment of time because he’d have seen that sweet cunt of mine that resides between those easily spreadable thighs of yours.”

“How can I make it up to you mummy?” The question rang heavy as it slipped off your tongue, your eyes pleadingly gazing up at her. If she weren’t mistaken, she’d think there were stars in your eyes, as they orbited around her, as though she were a planet, the central force and habitat for all life. But with that said, and defined, that wasn’t too far off. She was the hand that spun your universe, reeling it around as your eyes always pictured her, in the galactic realm of your mind, in this room, her red hair splayed around her as she succumbed to some kind of pleasure.

The spectrum of pleasure however was a vast array of different areas when the bedroom was involved. She got off on all sorts; degrading you until there were tears streaming out of your eyes and flowing past your water lines, hearing you beg to be touched. Natasha Romanoff was a wild card, and with her, you never knew what to expect. Though, that was part of the thrill of your relationship and the sexual aspect of it, there was excitement, and a suspense that had you always on edge (sometimes literally), for more.

“I don’t think you can blossom, guess you’re just gonna have to sit there, all patient, if that’s even possible, and watch as mummy gets herself off without your help, denying you of any recollection or release. You’ve been very bad, and I think you deserve to go cold turkey, and see that I don’t need you, you’re nothing more than an accessory to my pleasure.” A dark glare sparked upon her face as she ignorantly walked past you, reaching into the bedside drawer to pull out an object.

It served the same purpose as you apparently did, it was an aid to release, not a necessity. The firm black dildo was gripped in her hand as she walked to stand before you, cocking her deviant head to the side as she smirked down at you. She shifted the weight of the toy in her hand, as she held it out in front of you, the tip probing at your pouting bottom lip, the way the skin squashed under the pressure she applied seemingly amusing to her.

“Usually you have trouble keeping that mouth of yours closed, and now what, you don’t want to open it for mummy?” Her strict taunt had you obliging with her indirect command, widening the stance of your lips as she slipped the plastic subject of the empowered and one sided conversation into you mouth, shallowly thrusting the length into your mouth until it gently hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag. Natasha then removed it, surveying the moisture that coated the outside of the toy.

“That’ll do, what do you say malishka for me giving you any kind of attention?” You bowed your head, letting out a surrender of a huff as you gazed up at her with obedient and sparkling eyes that held a restraint within their spheres to contain a bratty eye roll.

“Thank you mummy.” The phrase slithered off your lips as you watched, watched, her strut to opposite the bed, the toy in her palm, your oral suffice trailing carelessly upon her skin. She rolled her desk chair open, seating her fine ass upon the furniture, as she fiddled one handedly with her belt, unknotting it, as she shuffled the material of her tight jeans down her legs, kicking them off from her ankles as her bejewelled irises remained latched upon you.

It would be a crime, a punishable one if you were to avert your eyes, and so you maintained eye contact with her undressing body, squirming as she padded her magical, searing fingertips upon the layer of her underwear, before pulling the flimsy material to the side, exposing her superior cunt. She tugged with her pointer finger upon the lips, showing you the rosy colour of her intimate parts that were hidden beneath the flaps; you licked your lips, wanting nothing more than to touch her.

She was cruel, for leaving you starved from any contact, circling her addictive clit as her feline pupils bore into you, as she moved the average sized toy forwards, running the length of it up and down her slit, before plunging it through her entrance, her walls latching onto the lightly ribbed exterior of the item. Her head fell back, as she pushed her clothed chest out, her hips rutting against the movements that she herself orchestrated.

Through her straining lids however, her eyes remained pursed on you, as though you were the one gaining pleasure from her fulfilling actions. You weren’t; that fact was clear enough as an emotional lurching in your chest tried to convince you to disobey the rules, and crawl to her, performing a better release than any toy could conceive. All you had earned considering the circumstances though, was wetness wandering down your thighs, as your clit pulsed to be touched.

“Mummy.” It was a small, almost inaudible plea, but the Black Widow heard, and she silently nodded her head, giving you an allowance of permission to situate yourself closer, and instantly you scrambled to the floor, floundering off the bed, dragging your palms and the bones of your knees upon the carpet, until you had a close up of the dildo being driven in and out of her pussy. A pout remarked upon your lips, all you wanted was a sweet taste of her nurturing essence, but you refrained from whisking your head forwards and taking what you wanted, no matter how loud that devil on your shoulder spoke. “So pretty.”

“Ya think?” There was smugness in her tone, poisoning it with her own twist as her dewy chin, bent up, a small moan courting out of the column of her throat as her spare hand reached down and fiddled with her priceless pearl, rotating small spirals around it, to bring her closer to her edge. To reply, you eagerly nodded, taking full advantage of your position as you watched her pussy clamp murderously down on the dildo, as deep hums evaded from within her.

You could see how the muscles of her thighs tightened, an extended sound emitting from her as she reached her beautiful peak, gifting herself a couple more thrust of the toy before pulling it out, and revealing how soaked it was. She held it out to you, and instantly, you knew what you had to do, it was practically like deja vu, the only difference was you knew that you had already done this, it wasn’t a familiar feeling prying at the edges of your mind, cursing you with confusion and derelict. No, you had lubed the length up for her to use, and now you were to be the wipe that cleansed it too.

This was the part you were more eager for though; to taste her. “Get on with it.” She roughly carded her talented fingers through your hair, delivering a spiteful tug to your scalp, as she hoisted your face closer to the tool, and intently stared as you opened your mouth, allowing it passage way through the obscene cavern. You gulped any remnants of her cum down, swirling your tongue around the ribbing, delightfully moaning at the feeling of her flavour running down your throat. Just as you were about to take it further down your throat, Natasha pulled you off the plastic with a pop. “That’s not the only thing that needs cleaning up little one.”

The explicit message was perfectly delivered, as your attention quickly grazed away from the dildo to her pussy, that clenched instinctively from your hungry glare. Diving in tongue first was no hassle, this had been what you were waiting for, and finally, finally, you had received the luxury to taste her nectar from the source. Your tongue run up the insides of her parted thighs, cleaning any spillage instantly up, tracing up to her lips, that you sucked into your mouth, replacing her cum with your saliva, not that she at all minded.

“I think you need to be a bit more thorough y/n.” She was serious, she had used your name, and thus, instead of teasing her folds with the tip off your tongue, you smushed your face as close as humanly possible, swiping against her clit many a time, switching to prodding at her entrance, sinking the part of you inside of her, as you grasped the beneath of her killer legs to give yourself more leverage. This was a miracle,it was practically a God’s feast laid out before you, already previously roused from cooking itself under a blithering sun. But now, it was enduring a pink flame, that you roasted her with, humming as your tongue lapped half obsessively at her insides.

“Fuck!” The red head hollered, tangling both hands into your locks, shoving you closer and smearing the most intimate part of herself along your chin. As she continued to pry at your hair, you moaned into her, sending an echo to rivet through her whole skeleton, making the assassin spill her arsenal into your mouth, as you accepted its token, and drank it down, shaking your head lightly as Nat loosened her grip on your head, slumping back into the chair, slightly rolling backwards, though you trailed after, keeping your face buried between her thighs.

She had to pull you off, and whence she did so, she swore there were stars glittering like sequins in your pretty eyes, dancing along the rims of the windows into your soul, like two ghosts, forever mingling their bodies against each other, in order to spend eternity as one. “Did I do a good job mummy?” You knew you had, her skin was pink and peachy, and she released a heavy and withheld sigh, as she traced your jaw, pulling you up for a kiss. As she tasted herself in the corners of your mouth, she smiled lightly, enjoying the taste half as much as you.

“Yes baby, but it doesn’t make up for your little stunt. I’m going to be taking some pictures of your body on my own, and if you ever, and I mean ever, try and distract me from important business again, I swear to you that I will make a whole PowerPoint of them for my team to sit through, and whenever you pass Clint or Tony or anyone else in the halls, you will known that they’ve seen far more than those starry eyes of yours.”

It wasn’t an empty threat, it was a focalised promise. She would definitely expose you if you were to distract her again during any important meeting or debriefings, but a part of you was not entirely opposed to that... She would get jealous if she heard anyone else talk about your body, and her own emotions would be induced by her own vowed actions, and you would receive a brunt of a force to stabilise her frustrations. Now the consequences of the consequences didn’t sound so bad...

[hoboal87]

In Secret, Part 3

Title: In Secret, Part 3

Characters: Jensen Ackles, F!Reader, Jared Padalecki

Pairing: Jensen x F!Reader, 

Summary: As filming draws to a close, you start to think about your future.

Word Count: 2.8k+

Warnings: angst, past cheating, rumors, implied cheating, drunk!Jensen, spoilers for “Swan Song,” minor domestic violence, fighting, derogatory language towards reader.

A/N: Wow! This took a w h i l e! I’d like to give a special shoutout to @flamencodiva for encouraging me and letting me bounce ideas off of her! You helped me get back on track with this series, thank you so much, Vanessa!

No beta all mistakes are mine.

*Possible TW for Domestic Violence

My Main Masterlist

In Secret Masterlist

Part 2

“Hey, Y/N–” Leah’s voice fills the air and you pull away from Jared’s tight embrace, only to see a look of embarrassment etched on the young girl's face. Her eyes dart between you and Jared as if she thinks she caught you in some kind of moment with him. The thoughts only worsen when you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, hair mussed, eyes red and puffy, you could only imagine what she thought she was seeing the aftermath of. You start to panic at the thought of rumors flying on set, Leah was fairly new, and you already knew from the limited time you’d spent with her that she had a tendency to gossip.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t– I’ll go.”

You try to call out to her, but she’s out the door before you can even muster a single word. Between what she thinks she saw and what the two PA’s may have heard, there was a very real possibility that you would no longer remain a faceless crew member. The crew was close-knit, and gossip had a way of making its way through everyone faster than wild-fire. All it will take is one slip of the tongue from one person, and your private life would be on full display.

Jared seems to have the same thought as you and swiftly moves into action. He walks you to his trailer, the only place you can get some semblance of privacy. Through your blurred vision, you can see various cast and crew members eyeing the two of you, and you try not to care about what they may be thinking. Jared’s trailer is warm and inviting as a trailer can be, a leather couch sitting opposite an electric fireplace and large TV. You’ve spent enough time in Jensen’s trailer, to know there’s a small bedroom through a closed door down a small walkway. You’re slightly uncomfortable being alone with Jared in his trailer, the two of you had never really spent any time alone together, and this was already an awkward situation at best.

Jared has always been a warm and inviting person, but you’ve always maintained a certain distance from him. You’d already spent enough time with Jensen to cause a raised eyebrow or two, but you and he were able to chalk it up to your past friendship. Misha seemed to be the only person to not completely buy your “friends” excuse, gently and subtly warning you of a rumor he’d overheard only a few months ago. Both you and Jensen took more precautions, and spent little to no time alone on the set anymore; the last thing either of you wanted was to be outed in your relationship.

You plop down onto the large couch, wrapping your arms around yourself, as Jared reaches into his fridge and pulls out a bottle of water, walking it over to you. You smile slightly as you take the bottle from his hand and let your eyes meet his. You can see the questions written all over Jared’s face, but you know he won’t ask them, whatever Jensen did or didn’t tell him, it’s clear that he’s put the true nature of your relationship together.

You’re the first to break the silence, trying desperately to defend yourself, wanting him to understand that you weren’t just some homewrecker. Jared listens intently as you explain his and Megan’s arrangement, rather, former arrangement, and how you were too blind to see the relationship for what it really was. Jared’s face remains soft, and you're thankful that he doesn't shame you, clearly seeing that you are already dealing with your own feelings of guilt and heartbreak. You expect Jared to come to the defense of his friend, to take his side and tell you how dumb you’re being, but he doesn’t, he only offers you words of comfort.

“He’s an idiot,” Jared shakes his head and gives you a warm smile. “He can’t see all the good that’s in front of him.”

You let out a small laugh and roll your eyes, he can, you think, he just won’t do anything about it.

“Between me and you,” Jared looks around as if someone could be listening. “I’ve never understood what Ackles sees in her. They would fight all the time, this one time, she comes to set, and accuses him of cheating– makes this huge scene in front of the whole crew; Kripke had to practically ban her from visiting anymore. Jeff joked that they must have amazing make up sex or something, ‘cause just a couple months later they’re engaged.”

“She’s pregnant,” you murmur, Jared sighs and nods. “That’s why they’re still together.” You can’t hide the bitterness in your voice, it was something you’d always thought, but never said out loud. Jared looks shocked by your candor, maybe Jensen didn’t share as much about his life with Megan than you thought. “Before she got pregnant, he was going to leave, ask for a divorce,” you think back to a conversation you’d had with Jensen six months ago.

Filming on the first few episodes had wrapped, meaning that the cast and crew had a five day break until production started up again. For Jensen, this meant going back to Austin while you stayed in Vancouver. What you weren’t expecting was Jensen showing up on your doorstep in the middle of the night on the second day, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to do such a thing while filming, but he wasn’t even supposed to be in the country. Anger radiated off of him as you invited him in, you watched, unable to do anything else, as he paced the floor of your living room, muttering to himself. You caught a few words as he walked in circles; Megan, liar, can’t be happy, Y/N. It was clear that he and Megan had fought, and from what you could gather, it seemed to be about you. Hours later, when he’d calmed down, he told you he was going to do it, he was finally going to leave her.

“Now, with the baby, he doesn’t think it’s right to leave, even though half the time he’s miserable. A couple of weeks ago we got into a fight when I asked him to come clean to Megan, he refused, so I ended it. Today, he was trying to convince me to take him back, but I told him he had to choose: me or Megan, I thought–” You hate yourself for giving in so easily, for only hearing what you wanted to hear. “He made his choice a long time ago, and I’ve been too blind to see it.”

Two Weeks Later

Two days, you remind yourself, as you arrive on set for the last day of shooting, two days, and Jensen will be back in Austin. You’ll have three months, three months, until shooting starts again, if the show gets picked up for another season, three months to no longer be helplessly, stupidly, in love with a man who can’t or won’t reciprocate.

Jared had proven to be a quick friend, somehow managing to balance both his friendship with you and with Jensen. Once you arrive home, a long, hot shower helps wash the day away, and you crawl into bed, determined to put the day behind you. Your phone chimes as you get comfortable, and you see a text from a number you don’t recognize.

< I stole your number from the crew call sheet, I hope you don’t mind.

 > That depends. Who is this?

 You laugh as a picture of Jared, in what has to be his apartment, fills the screen.

>Thank you, Jared. I’ll be okay.

 A small chuckle leaves you as you shake your head, and you put your phone on the bedside table, letting sleep consume you as you try to keep Jensen out of your thoughts. When you arrive on set, you notice Gina eyeing you suspiciously, watching every move you make between Jensen and Jared. This is why you’d been so careful in the past, and now, your personal life seems to be on wide display for all to see. The boys talk amongst themselves, and you do your best to not engage, knowing that Leah has been watching you like a hawk since walking on the hug you shared with Jared.

You keep your composure as best you can, and allow both girls to work on Jensen and Jared, you’d be the one to finalize the make-up on location anyway. A full day of being on location with Jensen normally would be fun, and if you were lucky,

You watch intently as Jared mimes hitting Jensen, before you have to apply some prosthetics to his face. When Steve calls cut, everything moves quickly, and Jensen is ushered into a chair in front of you. You can see Jared from the corner of your eye, but when Jake approaches him, he moves his attention away from you.

“Y/N,” Jensen whispers, his hand reaches out to gently squeeze your arm. Your eyes focus on all the crew surrounding you, “I just– can you let me explain? Please, swee–”

“Don’t.” You shake your head, scowling as you yank your arm away. This wasn’t the time or the place for him to explain anything, not that it mattered to you anymore. His decision seemed very clear, and you’re not going to let him keep playing you.

“Everything alright over here, Y/N?” Steve approaches, he must’ve seen your seemingly random act of aggression, and you curse yourself for letting your anger get the better of you.

“Everything’s fine,” you smile, turning to face Steve and see Jared make his way towards you. Crap. “If someone doesn’t manage to stay still, they’re going to get glue in their eye,” you laugh slightly and Jensen gives a small shrug.

“Listen to Y/N, Jensen,” Steve scolds him playfully. Jared makes a comment about keeping him in line, and you hope that Steve doesn’t catch all the unspoken words going on between you, Jared, and Jensen. Jared helps break the tension, and is true to his word, keeps Jensen focused on the scene. While you continue working on Jensen, you can hear the ridiculous line of “ass-butt” being delivered by Misha, and it takes most of your willpower to not double over in laughter.

Jensen doesn’t attempt to speak to you again, and once you're finished you call Steve to approve the final look, and Jensen takes his place back on the ground. As you watch the rest of the scene play out, you're fascinated by Jared. Watching him go from Lucifer to Sam, you wonder why he doesn’t get more recognition for his roles.

As the sun sets Steve calls a wrap on the day, and you remind yourself that you just have to get through one more, and you can start moving forward. Season six hadn't officially been given a greenlight yet, and at this point you aren't sure if you would want to come back even if it was. You have more experience now, you can easily get a job with another production. You also had no real reason to stay in Vancouver anymore, especially if the show wasn't picked up. You'd done some work on a pilot, but the show was set to be filmed in Georgia, that would be nice, being closer to your family. More importantly it would get you far away from Jensen. You wouldn't have to worry about him "accidently" bumping into you if the show got picked up.

Jared and Jensen ride back to the soundstage with Cliff, and you can’t even imagine what’s being said or not said between them. You meet Jared at his trailer, something that had become a bit of a habit over the last two weeks, ready to leave the day behind you. Jared’s in the shower when a pounding comes on his door, and you’ve barely lifted yourself off the couch before the door swings open. Jensen comes storming in, smelling like he’d bathed in whiskey.

“Jared!” His voice is full of rage, you’d never heard him sound like this before. You scan him quickly, frozen in your place, Jensen’s face is red and eyebrows are furrowed. You hear the shower quickly turn off, and a mumble of one second bleed through the door. You notice Jensen’s clutching something in his hands, some sort of magazine. He doesn’t seem to notice you at first, until you clear your throat, which seems to make him even more angry. “JARED!”

“Ackles,” Jared quickly appears, a pair of sweats hanging low on his waist, his body still wet from the hastily ended shower. He locks eyes with you, and you can tell he’s just as confused as you are.

“You s-son of-of a bitch!” Jensen unrolls the magazine, causing Jared to turn his attention back to Jensen, and you catch a glimpse of the cover:‘Scandel of the set of Supernatural! Source claims one of the leads is having an affair with a crew member.’ Your heart falls into the pit of your stomach at the words. You and Jensen had been so careful, but clearly not careful enough. It’s then you realize that the two PA’s had more than likely heard the fight the two of you had only a week ago. “You th-thought you could ‘ide this from me? ‘ow could you betray me like this? B-both of you!”

“Jen,” Jared somehow maintains a calm demeanor, his eyes quickly darting towards you, as you both try to figure out what Jensen’s talking about. “What’s going on? What are you talking about?”

“You a-and Y/N! Ho-how long have you been fucking behind my back?!”

“We’re not–”

“‘Our source, a m’mber of the Supernatural crew, reportedly caught Jared Padalecki in an intimate moment with a female crew member,” Jensen reads from the magazine before tossing it to the floor. “You’re s’pposed to be my friend! And you’ve been-been fucking my girl, and you–” Jensen turns towards you. “All this-this time, telling me to-to come clean to Megan, to be honest, and you’ve been m-messing ‘round wif Jared like some f-fame wh-whore, gold-digging slut.”

Jensen’s words are like a slap to the face, and you do your best to conceal the tears pressing against your eyes. Jensen takes a stumbling step towards you, still spouting hurtful words, until Jared grabs him by the arm. While you’re sure Jensen would never physically hurt you, Jared doesn’t seem convinced of it, and yanks him backwards.

“G’t your hands off’a me!”

“Call Cliff, Y/N,” Jared gently orders, and you nod, reaching for your phone. “Tell him to come and take Jensen home.”

“I c-can get home by myself, I ain’t no f-fuckin’ kid,” Jensen tries to pull himself out of Jared’s grasp. “Wha you jus wanna go back to fuckin’ Y/N, dontcha?”

“You’re drunk, Jen.” Jared replies calmly, “go home and sleep it off. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Fuck you, we’ll ta-talk now!”

You’re on the phone with Cliff when Jensen throws the first punch at Jared. You ask him to hurry to Jared’s trailer as Jared blocks another hit. You quickly end the call as Jensen uses all of his strength to knock Jared down to the floor. Jensen attempts to land another blow, still throwing accusations. You close the distance between the boys, despite Jared’s warnings to stay away, that he can handle himself.

“Jay...” You say as calmly as you can, placing your hand on his shoulder.

Jensen shoves you away, knocking you onto the floor and your shoulder hits the corner of the coffee table, sending a sharp pain through your body, causing you to let out a cry.

Jared’s eyes are wide as they land on you, and it takes Jensen a few moments to realize what he’s done. “Y/N– I’m so-sorry,” Jensen attempts to move away from Jared, but Jared holds him in place. “Let go of me!” He demands, but Jared’s hold doesn’t waver, keeping him there for the minute or so it takes Cliff to arrive at his trailer.

Cliff, at first, doesn't seem to know what to do with the situation at hand, his eyes bouncing from you to Jared to Jensen. Jared asks him to help you first, helping you up onto unsteady feet, and making sure you’re okay. You give a half-shrug, unsure of how to answer, before he walks you out of Jared’s trailer and into a SUV. He checks with you one more time as you let the tears slip out, and makes his way back into the trailer.

A few minutes later another SUV pulls up in front of the one you’re in, and Cliff has a tight grip around Jensen’s shoulder as he puts him into the other car. It’s only then you notice the crowd of people gathered, snapping photos of Jensen, and of Jared when he walks out, bloodied and bruised.

Part Four

Feedback is fuel! Please let me know what you think!

[teddy06writes]

It Was Yours, Why Does It Have To Be Mine?

Requested by this anon who decided to break my heart: “Hear me out. Dream x fem!reader angst. Originally, the reader was the one who wore the smiley faced mask. Dream and the reader were in love and dream proposed, reader said yes, then later that night, the reader passed away (either sickness or getting hurt idc) and in order to keep her memory, dream wears the mask in her absence.” 

Dream x fem!reader

trigger warnings: some swears, character death, general angst

premise: in game au; You and Dream have been together since what feels like the beginning of time, and it had always seemed like you would be together, and now he had finally had the confidence to propose, unfortunately, Wilbur and his new developing country of L’manburg have other plans for you

{hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this one hurt}

{I listened to Sebelius : Finlandia Op.26 on repeat while writting this and only questioned my sanity twice}

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You giggled, “Where are we goingg?”

“Somewhere special,” Dream said, raising your entwined hands enough to press a kiss to your knuckles, “Trust me, your going to love it.” 

You laughed again, free hand reaching back to adjust the knot holding your mask in pace, “You’re ridiculous.” 

Today had marked the four year anniversary since you and Dream had started dating officially, and he had insisted in abandoning all his duties to the smp for a day to take you out. 

The two of you had been wandering through the woods for a while now, and you were fairly convinced that he had no idea where he was going, but still you didn’t say anything. 

“It should be just through here.” He said, leading you down between two trees. 

A moment later you came into a clearing, decorated with lights, a picnic set up in the middle, with a perfect view of the rest of the hill side. 

“Oh my god!” You squeaked. 

“You like it?” He asked. 

“I love it! This is so cute, Dream!” 

Dream chuckled, “Bad found the spot, and I got Sapnap to help get all this stuff out here.” 

You grinned to a point where he could tell even with your mask on, “It’s perfect.”

Carefully he flicked at the edge of the wide mask, “Take that stupid thing off and kiss me.” 

“It’s not stupid!” You protested, “Come on Dream just kiss the smiley face, its good enough.” 

Reluctantly he pressed a kiss to the mask and you beamed, immediately moving to slip it off,  kissing him properly before going to sit down on the picnic blanket.

You looked back up at him, “While don’t just stand there, come on! Sit with me!” 

~~ A while later, after the food had been eaten, you were leaned back against Dream, eyes closed happily, mask still off to the side, “Thank you, for this.” 

“Of course.” He smiled, “But, uh, actually there's one other thing?” 

You hummed, peaking up at him, “Whats that?” 

“Well- I- I’ve been thinking about it for a while and- well- I was wondering, if you’d- if you’d marry me?” He asked. 

Your eyes shot open to see the ring box in his hand, “Your- you’re not kidding? This is real- this is for real?” 

“Course its real,” He chuckled, “Would you rather have me get on one knee to prove it?” 

Dream quickly maneuvered to be In front of you, on one knee, the ring box held out in front of him, “I have loved you, since the beginning of time (y/n) and now I’m asking you to become my wife.” 

Your hands moved to your face in shock for a moment before dropping back down as you practically tackled him, “Oh my god!”

“Is that a yes then?” He chuckled, doing his best to sit up with your weight still on him. 

You nodded eagerly, and he slipped the ring onto your finger, “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

Dream grinned, kissing you once more- only to be distracted by a yell from down the hill. 

“Dream! Dream!” 

“Oh god,” He muttered, standing up, “I’ll be right back” 

You stood as well, stooping to grab your mask and fastening it on your face before following him. 

By the time you had caught up, Sapnap was giving a report on what was going on. 

“He’s starting a new country- says their starting a rebellion.” 

“Who is?” You asked. 

“Wilbur,” Sapnap said curtly, motioning over to where wall were being built, “TommyInnt, Tubbo and Eret have all joined this crazy plan.” 

“Thats insane.” You muttered. 

Dream frowned, “I won’t have this. We’ll stop them. Sapnap, see too it that all of there resources are destroyed.”

The man nodded, and hurried away, already pulling out his flint and steel, and Dream turned to you, “This is the exact opposite of what I was hoping for today.” 

“We’ll figure it out, together.” You assured. 

~~

Later that night, after you had returned home, Dream had gone out again, hoping for a civilized discussion with Wilbur, before getting launched into any war. 

He stood at the gates of L’manburg, looking up at were Tubbo sat on watch, “I need to speak to Wilbur.” 

“Why?” Tubbo challenged. 

Dream crossed his arms, “Because this doesn’t have to become something bloody and violent, now get inside and get him.” 

Scared, Tubbo quickly scrambled down off the wall and toward one of the buildings that had risen with the walls. 

A moment later he came back to open the gates, Wilbur following behind, “I was beginning to wonder when you would show up. I knew you’d have a problem with this.” 

“Wilbur whatever this is it needs to be shut down, now.” 

“That's exactly what I thought you’d say,” Wilbur said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, “That's what tyrants always say.”

“I am not a tyrant!” Dream protested. 

“Is that why you’re forcing your agenda on us? Read the fucking message dick head, we don’t want to deal with you any longer. ‘ere. read this, its the conditions of our independence. We are free and there is nothing you can do to stop us.” 

Dream took the book Tubbo thrust into his hands, ‘the declaration of independance’ 

“Forever the nation of the dream smp has cast sin upon our great land of the hto dog van,” Wilbur quoted, “This book declarers that the nation that shall hence forth be known as the L’manburg is free and independent from the DreamSmp, totally, completely and wholly.” 

“You’re starting a fight you can’t finish.” Dream warned, handing the book back. 

Wilbur scoffed, “On the contrary Dream. You’ve threatened a country that is more than willing to fight back. Tommy, hurry up and get inside!” 

As Wilbur barked the last words Dream turned to see Tommy coming out the darkness, an empty bottle in one hand and a dagger stained a dull rust color in the other. 

“It’s done.” The teen muttered. 

“She put up a fight?” Wilbur asked. 

Tommy, even scared by what he’d done, couldn’t help but look at Dream, a glint in his eye, “(y/n) won’t be a problem anymore.” 

On pure instinct Dream ran, the only thing in his mind that he had to get to you. 

The stillness of the house was broken as Dream crashed through the door, “(y/n)? (y/n)?!” 

Shaking he moved through the house, the was no sign of a struggle, no sign of a break in, but there was a slight lingering affect of a potion in the doorway leading to your shared bedroom. 

From the color of the particles he knew it had been weakness, and he carefully pushed through into the room. 

It was dark, and for a moment, with your form stretched out in bed, he could almost think that everything was fine, that you were just asleep, waiting for him. 

Turning on a light he saw that the reality was much different. 

Blood pooled around you, dripping from the bed and soaking the sheets, evidently coming from the gaping holes in your stomach. 

The worst part of it was the mask clasped in your hands, held out, almost like you were offering it to him. 

“(y/n)...” He whimpered, still frozen in the door, “What do I do? Now that your gone? Oh god what did he do to you?” 

Some how the fact that Tommy had seen your face, the one thing you kept hidden from everyone, except him, seemed to hit Dream the hardest, even as you lay dead. 

Slowly, he moved forward, taking the mask from your hands.

~~ Dream stood at the top of the hill, looking over the crater. 

Somewhere off to the side Phil and Techno were celebrating the victory over everyone, the huge hole where L’manburg had been stretching all the way down the bed rock. 

The porcelain was cold against his face, but Dream had long since gotten used to the uncomfortable feeling of the mask. 

With the mask that you had given him, the mask he had unwillingly taken from you had kept everyone from knowing his pain. And now, he had made sure they felt all of yours and his own. 

The chain with your engagement rings felt heavy around his neck, but he couldn’t help grin at Tommy, who had barley made it out of the wreckage, “Looks like you won’t be a problem anymore.” 

[acapelladitty]

Heisenberg/Reader fic (nsfw)

Summary: After a short meeting with Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters barely escapes ending in bloodshed, Heisenberg is keen to show you just how much he appreciates your loyalty towards him. (Warnings includes rough sex, mild knifeplay, vandalism and restraints).

Karl Heisenberg was a selfish man.

He was selfish in almost every aspect of his life, and that selfishness also extended to you and your company. It was uncommon for him to allow you to join him when meeting others on his business outside the factory, with the only exception being your regular meetings with the Duke to acquire much needed parts for his equipment and experimentations.

However, a meeting with the Duke was necessary and the only available slot he had happened to directly follow a meeting Heisenberg had already planned with fellow Lord, Lady Dimitrescu. Due to this, options were limited, and the most sensible course of action was for you to accompany him for the meeting and then for you both to attend business discussions with the Duke within his room in the castle.

Which is how you ended up seated within the grand hall of Castle Dimitrescu with Heisenberg glued by your side as you both faced down the Lady of the castle and her three adopted daughters.

“And why should I listen to you?” Dimitrescu asks, her tone haughty as she ran a hand along the hem of her closest daughters’ dress in a loving manner. Cassandra, if the hair colour was anything to go by. Her lack of attention towards yourself and Heisenberg was intentional, a mark of disrespect, and a flare of irritation ignited within your gut at the pettiness.

“Miranda’s rules, not mine.” Heisenberg shrugged, delivering the message he had been requested to, “If you’ve got a problem then take it up with her. I don’t give a shit.”

Enjoying her mothers’ attentions, Cassandra tilted her head at her sisters as she shared a contemptuous look with them at Heisenberg’s words. Their attitude was just as rotten as their creators and it did nothing to dissuade your anger as Dimitrescu responded.

“Mother Miranda should have known better than to send a child to deliver a message to me. A true Lady should not have to deal with a foolish infant who can barely lay claim to the title of Lord.”

Against your better judgement, you can’t hold back a slight snort as Dimitrescu referred to herself as a true lady. Her hate for Heisenberg was without question and that hatred had long since leaked over to yourself and while Heisenberg was somewhat protected by his status as one of Miranda’s children, you were considered lower than dirt and she had made that opinion quite clear across your shared interactions.

She didn’t like you as you didn’t like her, and that was fine.

“Keep your filthy pet under control,” Dimitrescu snarled fixing you with a pointed glare, her hand flexing almost subconsciously against her white dress, “or I will personally put it down.”

“Is she talking to me?” You ask, glancing sideways at Heisenberg and ignoring Dimitrescu as you cut off her insult, “I’m your pet? While she’s sitting there with three bags of flies she dares to call her daughters?”

A loud chuckle escaped Heisenberg’s chest as low growls from the women ricocheted throughout the room at the brazen derision.

“You DARE insult House Dimitrescu?” Dimitrescu bellowed as she stood to her full height, the looming form admittedly very intimidating, “You dare open your common mouth against us while you sit by the side of scum like him?”

“At least he has a sense of humour,” you hold her furious gaze with a steeled spine, confident that you would be protected from harm, “and isn’t a frigid bitch living in a gifted castle.”

A lot of things happened at once as the daughter closest to your position, Bela, seemingly unable to restrain her anger any longer as her mother was insulted, leapt to her feet and withdrew her scythe from within her robes.

“I’ll bleed you dry!” The rage in her eyes was clear and her sharp blood-stained teeth were on full display as she darted quickly towards the couch you occupied, swerving across a small side-table as she advanced.

She had barely crossed the empty space between you when a pained cry escaped her throat as the scythe in her hand was wrenched free of her grip, finding a new home against her throat as the sharp tip of the blade dipped into the flesh there in warning as it froze her in place. The same went for the scythes which were hidden within the robes of Cassandra and Daniela, the weapons no longer beholden to their mistresses wishes as they bowed to Heisenberg’s influence and power and assumed a betraying position against their necks.

Along the edges of the grand hall, the armoured knights rattled as the very air in the room seemed to expand and contract in anticipation. High above, the metal grating which held the windows in place flexed and shook; a clear warning which dared any of them to move.

“Back the fuck off.” Heisenberg snarled into the room, his voice easily carrying above the feral hissing of the three daughters. Having only moved his head forward slightly, his expression was mostly hidden by his positioning and wide-brimmed hat but from your place at his side you can see the rage that is simmering behind his glasses, “Get control of your bitches before I carve them into a million pieces and leave you to clean up the mess.”

The rage that radiated from Dimitrescu’s form seemed to pulse for a moment as she flexed her long claws before a hint of uncertainty crossed her expression as her eyes darted between her three daughters. Unlike herself, they were more vulnerable to attack and it was no secret that Heisenberg’s life was worth more to Mother Miranda then their own.

There was no doubt within the room that Heisenberg would kill them, consequences be damned, and Dimitrescu could not take the risk, no matter how satisfying the reward.

Sheathing her claws, Dimitrescu straightened her back and faced Heisenberg directly.

“You come into my house, brother, and threaten my daughters with violence.” Her tone was measured, the anger buried beneath cold accusation, “Bela!” She indicated to her still body with a loose hand, “Come sit by my side, daughter. This fool and his plaything are beneath us and not worth the effort it would take to drain them.”

“Yes, mother.” Bela bit out, having no interest in peace but submissive to her mothers’ wishes as always.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief as the rattling of the metal within the room subsided and the tension eased off slightly. The three scythes clatter to the ground with dramatic flair as they are released and Heisenberg rises to stand at your side, indicating you to do the same.

“You have your message,” facing Dimitrescu, he inclined the rim of his hat at her with a twisted smirk, “now do as your mother asks and make sure that it’s done in time. This meeting is over.”

Calling his hammer from the floor, it flies into his hand with ease as his free hand comes to rest on your elbow, guiding you towards the stairs in a firm grip.

“See you next week, sister.”

He calls the words over his shoulder, not bothering to spare the lady of the house a glance.

One final insult.

Passing down the stairs of the great hall, a subdued cry of rage followed by hurried footsteps and hushed voices can be heard from the space you recently vacated, and the direction of the disappearing noise suggests that Dimitrescu was retiring to her quarters.

No doubt to complain of the day’s events to her disgusting spawn.

To your side, you can sense a restless energy radiating off Heisenberg as he marches you down the stairs but before you can question him, you find your arm seized in a vice-like grasp as he pulls you into a nearby room which lies opposite the room in which you are due to attend your meeting with the Duke.

Glancing around the room, you take in the space.

It is a small bedroom, mostly consisting of one large four-poster bed which was decked out in the same extravagant nature as the rest of the castle. Overhead, a large skylight made up the centre of the ceiling with its domed shape letting in a vast amount of light while also keeping out the cold. Two sets of drawers and a vanity table make up the rest of the furniture and you turn back to Heisenberg once more to question his actions.

You open your mouth to speak but are immediately cut off by his lips on yours as his hands move to his head to pull free his hat and drop it to the floor atop his freshly discarded hammer. Pulling away for a moment, he does the same with the glasses, dropping them into the same pile before returning to your lips; his mouth insistent against yours as he bites as your lower lip demanding entrance.

“What’s this about?” You ask and a grunt escapes you as he backs you up against the wall, your shoulders connecting with the hard surface roughly as he presses a leg between your thighs.

“It makes me so fucking hard to see you stand up to that bitch,” he grunts, nuzzling his head against your neck as he inhales your smell, “a little warrior, ready to go to war with nothing but your wits.”

“I have you.” You whine back as he bites into the skin of your neck, the force enough to guarantee a mark but not enough to break skin, “I don’t need anything else. You could tear that bitch and her infested little spawn to shreds without breaking a sweat.”

At the praise he presses his body against you and you can feel the hardness against your hip.

Ah.

“So loyal,” he purrs against you, rubbing himself on your hip, “and it doesn’t go unrewarded.”

“We can’t here,” you mutter with great regret even as arousal curls low in your belly, “my biggest fan or her daughters could appear at any time and I’d rather not deal with them while you’re inside me.”

His smirk is almost feral as he pulls free his blade from the inner pocket of his coat; the same blade which never left his person as a final line of defence against possible attack. Running the blade along the hem of your shirt, you suck in a soft breath and meet his eyes, seeing your arousal reflected in his own. He had tried to get you to learn to use one for your own defence but any attempts at training barely got underway before they were lost to more carnal pursuits.

Extending his hand with a flourish, the blade sliced through the air with great force, arcing upwards as it reached its target and smashed through the skylight. The shattering of the glass was loud and you instinctively duck to avoid any of the shards as they litter the canopy of the bed and fall to the floor.

“The fly-bitches can’t stand the cold.” He explains away the act of petty vandalism, shielding your body from the glass with his own as his hand summons his knife back within his grasp, “Now, where were we…”

His hands grip at your wrists, pinning them above your head as his knife works independently at his will; the sharp blade running along the buttons of your shirt with surgical precision as it slices them off, the small buttons bouncing along the floor as they fall free to expose more of your body.

A shiver rattles through your body, a result of both the low temperature of the room as the winter winds enter through the fresh hole in the ceiling and the anticipation of events as you watch his knife slowly remove your barriers. A soft creaking from a nearby lamp holder catches your attention and you jump in surprise as the metal features flies free of the wall, coming to imbed itself around your wrists as he releases them, pinning you into place against the wall.

His knife drops to the ground as his free hands come to rest on your shirt, spreading the fabric open to fully expose your chest and his mouth is immediately drawn to your nipple as he worries the sensitive nub there between his teeth gently. It ignites a warmth in your chest that draws a low moan from your throat as you push out to meet him, encouraging him as your other nipple is rolled between his fingers to the same effect.

“Just one quick fuck,” he grunts against your chest, his hands fumbling at his slacks as he frees himself, his cock twitching in the chilled air of the room, “and then we’ll continue with our business.”

You pant as his hands grip at your slacks, carelessly thrown on before you left, and he pulls them free of you, slipping them down past your knees and allowing them to fall to the floor carelessly as he exposes your clear arousal to his sight.

Lining himself up against your entrance, he pushes in with one swift thrust and the torrid mixture of pain and pleasure rips the breath from you as you clench around him, unable to do much else. The friction is almost too much as he sets a quick pace within you, the burn spurring you on to snap your hips back to meet him as he supports your weight, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist as he sheathes himself within you.

Wriggling against him as he pins you to the wall, you almost feel as though he is trying to fuck you through the stone and the rough growling of his throat as he does so is almost hypnotic as you whine and moan around him. Your fingers grip at their restraints as they are held in place by his power and your heels dig in to the soft of his back as you encourage him on.

As you cry out your pleasure, a rough hand comes to sit over your mouth as it muffles the cries. His fingers taste of oil and metal as your tongue meets them and the familiarity of it is pleasant as you moan around his hand. His cock stretches you as always and the brutal pace seems to be hitting every nerve inside of you as arousal curls your toes and tightens within your gut.

A grunt of surprise escapes you as he lifts you free of the wall, hurling you around with ease and dropping you on the bed as he continues to rut within you. It’s almost animalistic and you can do little but wrap your legs around his hips and meet every punishing thrust as your fingers dig into the flesh of his back.

Even as you whine below him, your orgasm still manages to catch you off guard as the tight band of tension within your gut snaps as your thighs tighten around him and your feet press against his spine, sheathing him within you as you clench around him and milk him for everything he’s worth. You can feel your mess but you ignore it as you focus on finishing him but he’s not far behind and, with a savage growl, you feel his cock jerk and the warmth of his release as it burns through you.

“So fucking loyal,” he snarls against your neck while his cock continues to twitch within you, each word punctuated by a lazy thrust as his pace slows, “so willing and warm and for nothing. Just for me and no one else. Mine.”

The final word is little more than a growl and, sensing that the words didn’t require an answer, you give a low grunt of acknowledgement as you release your grip of his back and allow yourself to relax into the sheets.

The bed is soft against your back as you continue to writhe against him, ignoring the mess that you’ve just made as you both enjoy the other. The chill of the room is offset by the heat of his body as he remains atop you and you focus on the strange duality as you try to steady your heaving chest.

Finally slipping free of you, Heisenberg pauses before pulling his slacks back up to wipe the mess from his cock off on to the soft bedding; leaving a noticeable stain against the expensive fabric with a satisfied smirk as he tucked himself back in.

Resisting the urge to roll your eyes at the immature display, you focus on righting yourself even as your knees lock into place to keep you steady. Your hand dips to the floor to grasp at your underwear and slacks and you pull them on quickly, ignoring the mess which you both made as you cover it with fabric.

Your eyes settle on your poor discarded shirt.

“And what the fuck am I supposed to wear?” You ask, indicating the slashed-up fabric with an open palm. In the cold air, your nipples were peaked and walking about shirtless in the middle of winter was not an appealing thought.

His laughter is open and genuine as he considers his actions, “Oops, maybe should have thought about that. If you weren’t such a fucking tease then this wouldn’t have happened.”

Remaining silent, you stare him down.

“Fine,” he grunts as he shuffles his shoulders out of his coat, “wear this.” He tosses the coat in your direction and you grasp it between your fingers, the fabric still warm as it clung on to his body heat.

Slipping your arms within the coat, the first thought to grab you is that it smells like him; that is, it smells like copper and oil with a hint of spice that you are never quite able to place. The second thought is that it is very heavy against your shoulders and you straighten up fully to balance it correctly as you easily close it over your exposed chest.

As you go to leave the room, his presence fills the space behind you and you can feel him pressed against your back.

“I think I like you in my clothes.” You can feel his grin against your neck, “It makes it clear who you belong to and it makes me want to fuck you again right here and now.”

“Business before pleasure.” You purr, tightening the coat around you as you move through the doorway as you guide him to your meeting, “We can negotiate terms later.”

As fun as it would be, you had both kept the Duke waiting too long and you would rather not be around when Lady Dimitrescu discovered her vandalised ceiling and come-stained bedding.

Fic also available on AO3 @ DittyWrites

[homerforsure]

Whumptober No. 6 Bruises / Touch Starved / Hunger Whumptober No. 30 major character death / left for dead / ghosts

Me: I can’t believe I have to post this absolutely incomprehensible piece of writing. 

Me: You don’t... have to?

Me: No, I’m gonna. 

Buck has an exceptional number of pillows on his bed. There are six, before he knocks a few to the floor every night, and he burrows into them like a nest, curling up with one against his chest, two pressed against his back, one between his legs. His sheets are a ridiculously priced, cool, crisp cotton that welcomes him in, surrounding him. The blankets he uses aren’t weighted, but they’re heavy and thick and he keeps his air conditioning turned up so he doesn’t have to give up the feeling of nestling into them in the heat of summer. Along with the white noise machine on his night stand, all of it is chosen to trick him into sleep. To keep back the feeling that night time in his own apartment is the loneliest part of Buck’s day. 

It wasn’t perfect, pre-covid. It’s been a long time since Buck had someone share his space, share his bed, someone he could reach out and touch whenever he wanted. But his life outside of home was full. He didn’t lack for closeness; in some ways he had more than he’d ever dreamed. So while he had lonely moments, they weren’t a constant ache in his chest. 

These months though. These months hurt. Facetime isn’t a substitute for curling up on Maddie’s couch with whatever silly-labeled wine she’d liked best that week. It’s definitely not a substitute for Eddie’s couch and losing to Christopher over and over again at Mario Kart. The last time they talked, Eddie had reached over and ruffled Christopher’s hair and Buck felt it. First as a tingle up the back of his scalp and then as a bruise to his heart. Eddie’s touches, so constant and so casual, became essential somewhere along the way and Buck feels himself reaching out for them even when he knows it’s not allowed.

“Six feet, gentlemen,” Bobby says gently when their orbits swing toward each other and Eddie makes a dramatic show of raising his hands and taking a giant step backward. Bobby just shakes his head and reminds them it’s the price they all agreed to pay for not wearing masks in the firehouse. 

Buck starts dreading the end of a call when taking off his heavy turnout coat leaves him feeling cold and exposed. He folds into himself, claiming a chair, putting in earbuds and crossing his arms tight over his chest, pulling his knees up even though he knows better than to put his shoes on the furniture.

It’s a similar position to the one he lies in at night, clinging to the pillows, trying to draw comfort out of the smooth fabric. In those moments, his loneliness is so loud it might as well be a beacon sent out into the universe, a burning shout of need. 

And that shout is heard. 

***

“Have you guys heard of exploding head syndrome?” Buck asks one morning when the calls are slow and the crew is all lingering in a lazy way rather than rushing off to take care of their other duties. 

“What, the band?” Chimney asks.

“I think it was an album,” Bobby says.

“No,” Buck sighs. “It’s a sleep thing. It’s this loud noise that you hear when you’re falling asleep like a massively loud explosion. Only it’s just happening in your head.”

“Is your brain actually exploding? Like an aneurism?”

“No. It’s just the noise.” 

Just the loudest noise Buck had ever heard. It woke him up with a feeling of abject terror. It was an explosion that didn’t echo. It just rang, clear and true through his eardrums like the end of the world. Even as he struggled out of his sheets, searching for the source so he could run from it, part of him knew it wasn’t a sound that left any physical evidence. What could it even be? A sound like that? An old fashioned safe dropping from two stories up? A car crash without the crunch? Just a high speed collision of two immovable objects, all of the equal and opposite reaction of their momentum forced to escape as sound. 

Once his heart rate had slowed, he googled. He wasn’t initially sure what to google. “Ridiculously loud noise woke me up” seemed at once too vague and too specific but sure enough. Exploding Head Syndrome. It was what happened. Obviously. But Buck remained too full of adrenaline to sleep. As he sat up in bed, he couldn’t shake the urge to look around. Under the bed, in the closet, behind the shower curtain. He didn’t feel alone. 

“I’m just glad it’s happening in your head instead of mine,” Chim laughs. “Maybe try putting some earmuffs on before you go to sleep tonight.” ***

The sound doesn’t reappear. Buck is relieved, but sleeping doesn’t get any easier. He tries to soothe himself with obscenely long hot baths, by ordering a hoodie that’s more fluff than fabric, by running a foam roller across his muscles, trying to pry them into relaxation. It’s so much work and it does so little. Buck’s entire body is screaming out at all times for a hug or a massage or even just a really fucking good haircut. It takes longer and longer to fall asleep and the little sleep he does get isn’t restful. It’s like whatever meager comfort he manages to give himself during the day is leached away in the night. 

He doesn’t even notice the bruises at first. It’s an easy enough thing to miss. Their job is heavy physical labor and Buck barrels through a scene like a one man stampede. Bruises are as common as the smell of smoke in his hair. The ones Eddie points out on his arm though are different. 

Buck’s carrying a kitten at the time. The fire they’ve been fighting is beaten back to smolders. Buck shucked off his coat, wet and dripping from the hose and too cold for the shaking animal, and grabbed a blanket from the ambulance to wrap her up and cradle her against his chest. He’s rubbing his face against her damp fur, feeling the softness like a concentrated shot of endorphins when Eddie asks, “What the hell happened to you?”

“What are you talking about?” Buck asks and Eddie’s hands are pushing up the sleeves of his shirt, rolling them up to his shoulders while Buck’s trying to hold onto the cat.

“You don’t feel that?”

“Feel what?” He’s maybe a little ruder than he means to be but the sleep deprivation makes him cranky and the touch deprivation means that Eddie’s gently probing fingers feel like a dream on his skin. The care in the brush of his hands makes Buck’s knees weak. 

“Your arms are bruised to hell,” Eddie says. “Are you- Did someone grab you or something?”

“I swear to god, Eddie. I don’t feel anything.” Except grumpy and exhausted and longing. 

“Jesus, it goes all the way up your shoulders. It looks like-” He stops, pulling Buck’s collar aside and tracing a small spot that Buck can’t see even if he turns his head. “They look like fingerprints, Buck. Are you seeing someone?” 

“What!”

“These are handprints. And they’re dark. Do you really not-”

Buck wrenches himself from Eddie’s grasp so he can turn around and look at him because if Eddie’s really accusing him of putting everyone at risk by trying to date someone right now… But Eddie’s face is nothing but concerned. Which makes Buck scared. 

“Is it really that bad?” he asks, clutching the cat to his chest. 

Eddie rubs a hand up Buck’s back (it feels so good, hot like Buck’s t-shirt isn’t even between them and is it just because it’s been so long or just because it’s Eddie?) without looking around to see if Bobby’s watching and that’s really all the confirmation Buck needs. It’s bad. 

***

After that, Buck starts to feel them. He wakes up and he can’t breathe. He wakes up and he can’t move. He wakes up on the floor. He spends every moment that he’s asleep fighting to wake up. Buck can only remember fragments and pieces of the torment but he knows that it feels like drowning. Like being held down. Like being grabbed and pulled and smothered. He thinks he remembers long dark hair. 

Google is useless. Sleep apnea. Sleep paralysis. Sleep terrors. Even sleepwalking. None of them can account for the worst of it. For the physical signs of whatever is happening to him while he sleeps.

Bruises bloom blue on the pale skin of his hips. Purple on his ribs. Green on the back of his neck. The ones that Eddie saw first on his arm fade to yellow.  A long scratch runs down the side of his face. Dark circles under his eyes grow darker every day. 

“What’s happening to me?” he asks his reflection.

All he wants is to be able to ask that question with someone’s arms around him. He wants anyone to hold him tight and shush his fears and tell him that it’ll be okay. 

It’s easier than he thought to hide it. Buck just chooses his shower times strategically and opts for a long sleeve uniform, complaining that he ruined his short sleeves ones by grabbing bleach instead of detergent while he was half asleep. 

He’s always half asleep these days.

At least in the bunk rooms, he gets some semblance of rest. Whatever presence he feels in his own bedroom doesn’t cross this threshold and Buck sleeps deeply, almost missing the scream of the alarm. 

“It’s getting worse isn’t it?” Eddie asks, cornering Buck in the locker room. Buck can’t help but nod and Eddie steps closer as if to touch him. 

Buck flinches away and Eddie pulls up short as though hitting an invisible wall. 

He breathes Buck’s name on a pained exhale and says, “You have to get some help. Whatever it is…”

“I don’t know what it is!’ Buck answers. “It’s living in my house and it- it- God. Maybe I need an exorcism.”

“Maybe you should come home with me,” Eddie suggests and Buck recoils again. 

The firehouse seems safe but there’s no guarantee that Buck won’t be followed anywhere else. He’s desperate to be safe--desperate for Eddie to make him safe--but not at the expense of anyone else. Not when he doesn’t know what he’s facing. 

“Okay,” Eddie says. “But call me in the morning.” 

***

The burned girl screams louder when she sees Buck than she did while they were putting out the inferno of her car. 

“Stay away from me!” She shrieks. “Stay awaystayawaystayaway.”

“Miss, we’re going to need you to calm down,” Hen says to her. “Buck, you wanna move aside? Like preferably somewhere she can’t see you?”

Buck does because the patient’s well-being is more important than anything, but his skin feels like ice. He wants to demand to know what else she sees when she looks at him. Wants to know how she knows. For half a second, he imagines following her to the hospital and waiting for her outside the glass doors.  

They aren’t far from her house (52% of accidents happen within five miles of home) and the girl’s father arrives on the scene before they finish prepping her to be transported. And he sees Buck. 

He freezes when he does, but at least he doesn’t scream. He ignores Buck completely, instead going to the ambulance where his daughter is still crying and trying to soothe her. Hen offers to let him ride in the ambulance, but he says that he’ll take his car. 

“You’re in a lot of trouble,” he says, returning to Buck as the ambulance pulls away. “What you summoned… That’s not a normal ghost.”

“I didn’t summon anything! It just happened.” Buck’s voice is high-pitched and he just barely stops himself from grabbing onto the man’s arm, but the man doesn’t seem afraid of Buck the way his daughter was. “What is it? How do I make it go away?”

The man shrugs, “She came in through an open door. Which door depends on the person. But she’ll do everything in her power to keep it pried open. All you can do is try to close it again.”

It is… the least helpful advice Buck’s ever been given in his entire life. But the man’s daughter is on her way to the hospital and he needs to follow her. He vanishes. 

***

They’re about to have four days off. Buck’s bracing himself to meet the woman in his dreams. To look around in that dreamspace for open doors and slam them shut again. He can do it. He has to. 

***

The next night Buck wakes up and he can’t move. He’s paralyzed on the bed. He’s paralyzed on the bed and someone’s standing at the top of his stairs. 

She’s not… right. Buck can’t quite see in the dark and he can’t lift his head but the woman on his stairs isn’t solid in the way a human should be. The outline of her is strong, but it’s like she’s a shell wrapped around a cavernous emptiness. She’s across the room but she’s already pulling at him. 

Buck tries to thrash but his arms are pinned as if her hands are already on his wrists. He needs to reach the lamp. If he can just turn on the light.

“Get away from me,” he pleads and the part of her face where lips should be turns up, revealing pointed teeth that stand in front of a void.

“You called me,” she says. The words don’t come from her mouth and Buck doesn’t hear them with his ears. It’s wrong wrong wrong. He throws himself hard to the left and he rolls, flying further than he expected to, suddenly free, and crashes hard into the table, knocking the lamp to the floor. It shatters, bulb and all and pain scrapes across Buck’s shoulders.

“Poor boy,” the ghost mocks. “Poor lonely boy. Just wants someone to touch him. Just wants someone to stay with him. I heard you.”

“No,” Buck says and he tries to scramble, but his feet can’t find purchase on the floor. “I didn’t want you.”

He doesn’t deny the call. Can’t deny it when his heart is reaching out in the same pleading, desperate way now. Please. Anyone.

In the time it takes to blink she’s in front of him. She’s so close. She shouldn’t be able to get that close without standing on him but she’s there. Her voice whispers in his mind, “You should choose your words more carefully.”

And then her hands are around his throat.

The pressure is insistent and her motive is unmistakable. She’s going to kill him. She’s going to squeeze the life out of him. He’s going to die here and Eddie’s going to find his body because Eddie’s going to come rushing over as soon as Buck doesn’t call him in the morning and what if this thing is still here waiting for him. 

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Buck’s mind yells for him like his lungs did when Eddie was buried except now it’s Buck who’s too far away, who’s trapped somewhere deep and dark with no hope of escape. 

He tries to breathe and his breath whistles. It’s like the first time someone handed him a styrofoam cup of coffee and he tried to drink through the plastic stir stick. Black stars twinkle in the room and tears build in his eyes. 

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. 

There’s a shift as she adjusts her grip and it’s enough for the stars to clear. Buck throws himself forward, shaking his head like he isn’t a ragdoll trapped in the jaws of a rottweiler, like he has a hope of breaking free and then he does. The ghost is thrown off balance and Buck jumps, scrambling back over his bed for the stairs. He can’t even think about defeating her, finding out the secrets of where she came from, closing whatever fucking door he left open. All Buck wants to do is live. 

A force behind him swells like a wave to lift Buck off his feet and slams him into the bathroom door. He expects to slide off of it and onto the floor, but he’s held in place hard, his head turned and his cheek pressed to the wood, toes just brushing the ground. 

“You begged me to come,” the ghost hisses. “I’m here for you, lonely boy. Don’t fight so hard.”

A hand skims up his back, nearly gentle, but leaving a numbness in its path and Buck shudders in disgust. He jerks against the door, but his arms are wrenched behind him and he screams. He realizes it’s the first time he has.

“I didn’t call you! I don’t want you here! Get out.”

“I came because you needed me.” A long finger trails down his cheek and Buck whimpers. She’s taller than him now. Was she always? “I could feel you from so far away. An aching ball of need. I’m here for you now.” 

“I don’t need you,” Buck growls and the room flashes like lightning. He hopes to fall, almost expects to fall, where he can scramble again but instead, Buck is hurled away from the door completely. He has time to see that he’s above the stairs, throw his hands out uselessly and then he’s frozen. 

Buck hovers there in the air above the stairs, dangling in the grip of the ghost, like a cat grabbed by his scruff. Kicking wildly, he grabs for the invisible hand that’s holding him, yelling “No, no, no, no.”

“Need me now?” the ghost asks. 

Smothering the terrified part of him that nearly answers yes, Buck forces himself to stop twisting and just hang there. He doesn’t want to fall. He doesn’t want to die. But what he needs isn’t going to come from the ghost. 

“No,” he answers. 

And he can’t explain how he knows what her face looks like when it’s screwed up in fury, but he does. It’s vicious and vindictive and Buck’s not surprised at all when he’s flicked away from her and down the flight of stairs. 

He seems to hit each one as he falls, something that should be impossible with the speed that he’s traveling and the force with which he bounces off of them, but the ghost is obviously responsible. Air leaves his lungs as his ribs crack against the stairs. His elbows and knees scrape. His head bangs the rail. Buck’s long, long legs seem to tangle as he falls, cartwheeling him down and he lands in a heap at the bottom. 

As he tries to figure out if he can still move, the door flies open. 

Warmth rushes in. Buck hadn’t even realized how cold it had gotten since he first woke up, but the room seems to thaw around him. It’s like sunlight. 

It’s Eddie. 

“Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Evan. Buck. I’ve got you, Buck. I’ve got you.” 

Tenderly, he scoops Buck off the floor, unsnarling the mess of his limbs and feeling all over for the damage he can’t see. “I’ve got you. Open your eyes. Come on.” 

The ghost stands at the top of the stairs and then she’s at the bottom. Buck clambers backward again, digging his heels into the floor to push himself upright in front of Eddie, to try and hide him from view. Eddie doesn’t seem to see the ghost. All of his attention is still on Buck, stroking his hair, promising over and over that he’s there, that he has Buck. 

All of the ghost’s attention is on Buck too. “You need me,” she says. “You called for me.” She sounds different now. Bitter. Like Buck wasted her precious time. 

“I don’t need you,” he says and he reaches behind him to grab Eddie’s hand. “I already have everything I need.” 

Lights flicker and that impossibly loud sound bangs in Buck’s ears again. He gets one last look at the ghost’s vicious, violent visage and then she’s gone. 

And then Buck wakes up.