#I somehow managed to convince myself that it was normal and something I could push through so it's been so jarring to realize just how

[horsemage]

yeah so that might have been something adjacent to clinical depression but I still have no idea what it was or why it set me off like that but (knock on wood) it's finally starting to wind down for real a month and a half later

sometimes there’s an unshakeable leaden grief in your chest that feels like you’ve lost a critical part of yourself and have no way of recovering it or even understanding the shape of what it once was. & then you check the calendar and see your period is like less than a week out. or is that just me.

[ssinnerplazahotel]

𝘽𝙞𝙧𝙙𝙞𝙚&𝙀

╭──────────.★..─╮

*Chapter Three*

╰─..★.──────────╯

WC:5k

Warning: 18+, age gap, smut, fluff, it’s the 50s/60s

Pairing: elvis x black reader

Masterlist: Prologue, Ch.1, Ch.2

Christmas was usually your favorite time of year, you loved the festivities and the decorations. You and your mother had an annual tradition of taking a trip downtown to soak up some of the atmosphere and to be a part of the hustle and bustle of the busy holiday season. You expected this year to be different, being in Memphis and away from home. But things were drastically different now.

You were in the dining room with Dawn and Cynthia setting up for the Christmas Eve dinner party that Elvis hosted every year. You weren’t sure how anyone managed to get excited over these parties like they didn’t have them nearly every night—you blamed it on the holidays.

You slipped away after setting the table, going upstairs to take a breath before the bulk of the crowd arrived. You heard the gentle sound of the piano resonating from the music room. You recognized the song playing, it was one you often heard coming from the room during some of Elvis’ many long, sleepless nights. You stopped by the door, leaning against the frame as you watched him.

He only played for a moment more before his hands froze on the keys. He turned his head, meeting your eyes. “Birdie,” He said, his voice no more than a whisper in the, now, silent room.

“Hi,” You whispered back. He held his hand out for you with a blank stare—just a hint of a smile on his face. “What’s wrong?” You asked as you crossed the room and took his hand.

He pulled you down beside him on the piano bench, bringing your hand to his lips and holding there for a moment before pulling away. “I’m okay,” He said. You weren’t convinced.

“Tell me,” You pressed. “I can see it in your eyes that something's wrong.”

He turned his head to laugh, looking back at you with a playful expression that you could see straight through. “I guess I get blue during Christmas.”

“Why?” You asked with a concerned tilt of your head.

His smile faded quickly, his eyes focused on yours but somehow distant. He cleared his throat, blinking rapidly a few times. “I miss her a lot around Christmas…”

You nodded, bringing your right hand up to cup his face. You felt your throat tighten as you brushed your thumb against his cheek. You had spent all day trying to force down your own emotions surrounding the holiday. It was the first Christmas without your mother, and as much as you wanted to push away the emotions stirring in your chest you knew it was just a matter of time before it really hit you.

“The years keep goin by a-and…pretty soon it’ll just be another Christmas.” He sighed, shaking his head. “It won’t be so different, it’ll be normal and it won’t feel like anything’s missing.”

“You’ll always miss her, E.” Your voice was unsteady as you held on to your composure.

He met your eyes again then, his expression softening. “Oh, birdie, I-I didn’t~ I-I shouldn’t’ve~”

“I want you to talk to me~”

“But I know you’re hurting too,” He said, putting his hand over yours where it still rested on his face. “Are you okay?”

“No,” You admit. “But…Dawn says it’ll pass. It has to pass, right?”

“I don’t know if it ever stops hurting,” He said somberly. “But I hope it gets easier to live with.”

“My mother,” You started, trying to blink away your tears. “She always said that you gotta hurt to heal but…I’m worried that once I start allowing myself to feel those feelings they’ll never go away.”

“You can’t keep it in forever, baby.” He turned his head to kiss your palm before letting your hand go. “That’ll only end up doing more bad than good.” He turned his attention back to the ivory keys of the piano. “I see you headin for that dark place. You can’t let yourself go there, you gotta find another way. If you can’t cry it out, maybe you can figure something else out.”

“Is singing your way?” You asked, watching as he began to play the gentle chords of an old Christmas song that you couldn’t remember the name of.

“I don’t know,” He said. ��I just let the feelings happen, I don’t do anything to stop 'em but I don’t do anything to solve ‘em either.”

“I really miss her.” You sighed. “I can’t grasp the fact that I’ll never see her again.”

“Or put your arms around her,” Elvis added solemnly, his fingers slowing coming to a stop against the keys.

The two of you sat there staring down at the piano in silence. Tears welled in your eyes, you didn’t have to look up to know Elvis was crying after you heard the trembling breath he released. You didn’t say anything as you laid your head on his shoulder, a tear racing down the bridge of your nose as you did so. He put his arm around you, laying his head against yours. There was nothing to be said as the two of you sat there silently weeping for reasons so similar that you understood each other without speaking.

You wanted to stay there crying on his shoulder for hours, but you eventually had to pull yourself together to go finish set up for the party. Elvis was reluctant to let you go, he wanted to escape to his room and hide there until the festivities were over.

“Come on,” You said, pulling him up from the piano bench. “You put on a smile and go entertain your guests like your mama would’ve wanted you to.”

He smiled gently at that, tears still clinging to his lashes as he pulled you into a hug. “You’ll be there, that’s the only reason I’ll go,” He said. “You’ll come see me after?”

“If I can get past the guards,” You teased, pulling away from the hug and looking up at him. You reached up and thumbed away the remainder of his tears. “I’ll see you out there.”

“Okay, honey,” He whispered, closing his eyes as you kissed his cheek. “I’m right behind you.”

You left the music room feeling lighter than when you walked in. Talking about your feelings actually did ease the tightness in your chest.

When you got back downstairs there were already guests arriving, causing you to put on a smile as you greeted them on your way to the kitchen.

“Where were you?” Your aunt asked when you joined her by the stove.

“I needed a minute,” You said without elaborating, hoping your puffy eyes were enough of an explanation. “Do you want me to start moving the food to the dining table?”

“You can, I doubt anyone will really sit down to eat,” Dawn said. “Make it look nice anyway.”

“Sure.” You grabbed a pan of food from the counter before walking it out to the dinner table.

You caught a glimpse of Elvis as you sat the food down, you were surprised to see how well he had pulled himself together. If you didn’t know any better you wouldn’t have thought he was hurting at all as he smiled and laughed with his friends and family.

*

You were stripping the table to wash the linens when Dawn emerged from the kitchen, having just finished the last of her chores for the night. The party was still alive and well, though most of the guests had already left. There were still a handful of people hanging around making enough noise to keep everyone else awake.

“Let me help you.” Dawn started to fold the tablecloth.

“Don’t worry about it~”

“I insist.”

You smiled in thanks as you went to take the rest of the table linens to the laundry room, Dawn following silently behind you. Her silence made you feel unsettled, she was never quiet. You didn’t bother to say anything about it as you loaded the linens into the wash, hoping to escape to your room afterwards.

“Thanks,” You said after starting the washer. “I think I’m going to turn in. I’ll get up early to clean up after everyone’s cleared out.”

“Okay.” She nodded as you tried to get past her to leave the laundry room.

“Is everything okay?” You asked when she didn’t move.

She didn’t say anything as she reached into the pocket of her apron and pulled out your mother’s scarf. “I found this in the laundry a few days ago.”

You took the scarf as she handed it to you.

“Elvis’ laundry,” She clarified, causing a crushing feeling to wash over you.

“It must’ve gotten mixed in somehow,” You said. “I’m sure it was an accident.”

Dawn sighed, turning to shut the door of the laundry room before facing you with her arms crossed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Don’t act clueless, we both know you aren’t.”

You looked down at the scarf in your hands, mentally cursing yourself for not making sure you got it back sooner.

“I explicitly asked you to keep a low profile around here,” Dawn continued with a disappointed expression. “Of all people—Elvis?”

“I’m not sure what you think is going on~”

“I don’t need the lies or the excuses,” She said, her demeanor was calm but the glare on her face told you everything you needed to know about how angry she was. “I can’t lose this job, you know that. I let you into my home, into my life, I took you in after your mother’s death and you put me in jeopardy like this?”

You tried to speak but you weren’t able to get a word in.

“Whatever you think you’re doing stops now,” She said. “It’s insane and inappropriate.”

“Why is it so insane?” You dared to ask. “Is it so unbelievable that he likes me?”

“Yes, it is.” She lowered her voice in an attempt to keep from raising it. “There’s only one thing a man like that wants with a girl like you.”

“A girl like me?”

“A colored girl.”

Your lips pursed as you matched Dawn’s glare, your gaze unwavering. “And what’s that?” You asked, your voice quiet as you struggled to keep it steady.

“You’ll know once he gets it,” She said. “He’ll drop you so fast you won’t even get the chance to put your arms out and catch yourself.”

“You’re wrong.” Your voice sounded unsure even to your own ears.

“Really?” Dawn asked, her eyebrows raising. “Just how long do you think he’ll go on playing this game with you? Sneaking from room to room, waiting until the coast is clear—or at least until he thinks it is~”

“Your point?”

“Why would he keep putting himself through all that trouble when he can, and does, have any girl he wants,” She continued. “He’ll never choose you, for obvious reasons.”

“He’s not a racist, Dawn." Your hurt morphed into anger. “When he looks at me that’s not all he sees.”

“Is that what he told you?” She asked with an unconvinced expression. “His contract won’t even let him sing for a negro charity, you think they’ll let him walk around with you on his arm? It’ll never happen. Whatever you have going on, do yourself a favor and end it before you get hurt.”

“There’s nothing going on,” You said. “He’s my friend, we talk sometimes. There’s no harm in that.”

“Just don’t let your scarf get lost in Mr. Presley’s room the next time the two of you talk.” She turned to leave.

“Elvis,” You corrected before she was gone. “He hates when people call him Mr. Presley.”

She cut her eye at you once more before opening the door and leaving the room.

*

You didn’t meet Elvis in his room that night like you had promised. As much as you wanted to not let Dawn's words get to you, you couldn’t help it. She was right, and despite your own stubbornness to believe her, you knew it.

Elvis was Elvis.

There were thousands of women all over the country that wanted him. Only god knew how many of them actually had him. How many of them he pined after in the same ways that he'd pined after you, ways that you were a fool to believe were special. In reality, the only thing special about your situation with Elvis was that nobody knew about it. Nobody could know about it, even if you wanted them to. Your relationship wasn’t a relationship at all, it was just a secret--hidden behind closed doors. If you knew anything about things done in the dark, you knew they always came brutally to the light.

You were lying in bed that night when your door opened, startling you out of your uproar of thoughts. You sighed as Elvis closed the door. “What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” He repeated. “I’ve been waiting for you, birdie. You standin me up?”

“No, Elvis." You pushed the covers from your legs and got up before he could join you on the bed. “You have to go.”

“What’s the matter?” He asked, his expression turning serious.

“Dawn,” You said. “She found my scarf in your room and she…”

He seemed to relax after hearing that, putting his arms around your waist. You closed your eyes as his scent invaded your senses, making you swoon as it always did. “I’ll talk to her~”

“No.” You walked out of his arms and towards the door. “You have to leave, E. I don’t want to do this tonight.” You tried to open the door, only for him to stride over and push it back shut. “I don’t think we should carry on like this. Not anymore.”

“What’d she say to you?” He asked, trying to meet your eyes as you stood facing the door, your hand still on the knob. "Tell me."

“This was a really dumb idea." You finally met his eyes, the anger you felt towards Dawn returning as you replayed her words in your mind. “I don’t know what I was thinking, okay?”

“No, not okay,” He said, his eyebrows drawing together. “I-I thought we~”

“You thought wrong,” You snapped. “You can have any girl in the world, why the hell are you so bothered with me?”

“I don’t want any girl, darlin, I want you." He reached out to touch your face. “You’re my girl.”

“I’m not your girl.” You pulled away. “I’ll never be your girl, Elvis. Not as long as you are who you are and I am who I am.”

“I thought we were past this.”

“It’s not about color,” You said in frustration. “It’s about you being Elvis Presley. It's about everyone in the world knowing who you are, everyone in this house--they worship you.”

“Birdie~”

“I’ll never know you outside of these rooms, I’ll always be confined to this space with you. Behind closed doors, hidden. A secret. I don’t know why it’s taken me this long to understand who you are. Who I am.”

“Birdie,” He said again, taking his hand from the door and making you face him. “You’re my girl, that’s who you are.”

You shook your head, keeping your eyes down as he held you by the waist.

“W-What we have, it’s different,” He continued. “I don’t have to be Elvis Presley when I’m with you, b-because that’s not who you expect me to be. I can be me, I can be myself a-and you won’t want me any other way. That’s why you’re my girl, regardless of everything else. Regardless of what your aunt or anyone else has to say about it.” He took your face in his hands, making you meet his eyes. He stared at you for a moment, an unfamiliar look in his sapphire eyes. “You’re my girl...tell me.”

You looked at him, not saying a word as his eyes flitted wantonly over your features.

“Tell me,” He repeated before silence engulfed the two of you once more. His jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth, a short laugh leaving him. “Come on, baby, don’t make me force it out of you.” He stepped impossibly closer as he lowered his head and graced his lips over yours. “You know I can.”

Your eyes fell closed as he pressed his lips fully against yours, your hands coming up to hold his wrists as he held your face. You started to push him away, but your resolve was waning quickly. You broke the kiss first, trying to come back to your senses but failing miserably as he continued to trail kisses down your jaw and your neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin.

“Tell me you’re my girl.” He breathed against your skin, his hand traveling down your sides as he continued his assault.

You couldn’t help the sound that escaped your lips as he hiked your dress up. “E-Elvis~”

“Uh-uh,” He chided disapprovingly. “You know that’s not what I wanna hear, little girl.”

You rolled your eyes, angry at yourself and your lack of willpower. You grasped his shoulders for dear life as his hand slipped past the top of your panties, bracing yourself for the mind-numbing feeling of his fingers pressing against you.

You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the door. You were so wonderstruck by the feelings that came over you as he fingered you against your bedroom door. You would’ve done or said anything he wanted at that moment, despite the conflicting emotions threatening to consume you. All you needed was for him to keep making you feel everything you were feeling.

His lips found yours again, kissing you feverishly. You moaned when his fingers curled inside of you. He started slow, building his pace until he had you ascending towards your high.

You held your breath, barely holding yourself up on your trembling legs. “Oh, god.”

Elvis groaned, breaking the kiss and looking down at you. His free hand came up to wrap around your neck, not adding any pressure but holding you there as he watched you fall apart, his rings were cold against your burning skin. “Tell me you’re my girl.”

“E-Elvis~”

“Say it,” He said more firmly, his fingers halting deep inside of you.

You whimpered, throwing your head back against your bedroom door, teetering so desperately over the edge of your release.

“I-l’m your girl."

“That’s what I thought.”

He removed his hand from your underwear but before you could complain he dropped to his knees in front of you, pulling your panties to the side and burying his face in your heat.

You stood up on your tiptoes, unsure of whether to give in to the immense pleasure or run away from it. Your hands grabbed onto his hair in an attempt to ground yourself as your soul positively left your body.

The pleasure was unlike before as he sent you careening off the edge with stars dotting your vision. If not for the death grip he had on your hips, you were sure you would’ve hit the ground.

Elvis hummed approvingly as you rode out your orgasm, his tongue massaging your clit thoroughly throughout, only pulling away when your legs started to truly give out. He sighed as he stood, holding your body against his as he wiped the remainder of your release from his chin. “Should’ve tasted you sooner.”

Your expression was still dazed as he kissed you, wrapping your useless legs around his waist and carrying you to your bed. He laid you down under him, kissing you deeply for another moment before pulling away.

“Let me clean you up, mama,” He said, but you ignored his words and continued to kiss him, your hands traveling down his chest until they rested on the buckle of his pants. “What’re you doin?” He chuckled.

“I want you,” You replied breathlessly. “All of you.”

He pulled away and met your eyes with a concerned expression that you didn’t understand. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

“I am,” You insisted, you weren’t sure if you had ever been so sure about anything. It could be the high of your previous orgasm talking or your desire to actually feel like you were his, even if was only for a moment. “I-I’m your girl. I want to be your girl.”

“You are my girl.” He sounded as if he was reassuring you. “My pretty girl.”

You sat up when he stood up from the bed, watching him turn the lock on the door before he started to slowly undo the buttons of his shirt. He did away with the shirt before joining you on the bed again. He sat beside you, kissing your shoulder and helping you out of your nightgown.

You shivered.

He tossed it to the ground, putting your arms around his neck as you sat completely bare before him. “Please, Elvis,” You begged, putting your pride and embarrassment aside. “Make love to me.”

“Not t’night.” You immediately deflated, a disappointed sigh leaving your lips. You started to pull away, wanting to cover yourself as your confidence was shot down. “What?” He laughed as he kept you in your spot.

“Don’t laugh at me.” You crossed your arms, your embarrassment reappearing as you avoided his eyes.

“I’m not,” He chuckled. “C’mon, baby. I-I’m not laughin at ya.”

You kept your eyes down, your arms crossed over your bare chest and his arm still wrapped around you. “Why won’t you make love to me?” You uttered quietly, you were convinced that there was something wrong with you. There was something about you that he hated so much that he couldn’t even bring himself to make love to you. “Aren’t you attracted to me?”

“Of course I am. You don’t know the things I’ve done to keep myself from taking you all way.” He tapped your chin with his index finger and you met his eyes. “I want the time to be right, that’s all.”

“The time will never be right.”

“It’s not happening t’night.” His tone was final.

“I want to make you feel good,” You said anyway, only recieving an amused smile in return. “Why are laughing?”

“Why are you so sensitive?” He shot back instead of answering, running his right hand down you bare thigh—reminding you again of your own nudity. “It makes me feel good hearing those pretty sounds you make when I touch you~”

“No." He gripped the bend of your knee pulled your leg until you laid against your back beneath him. “You know that’s not what I mean. If you don’t want me~”

“I want you.” He kissed the corner of your mouth before meeting your eyes again. “It’ll happen, just not tonight. There are other ways you can make me feel good.”

“How?” You asked, listening intently to what he had to say.

“Lot of ways.” He kissed you briefly before pulling away from you, positioning himself so that he sat back against your headboard. “C’mere, darlin,” He encouraged, patting his lap. “Sit right here.”

You followed his instructions, of course. Crawling up to where he sat and straddling his thighs. He took you by the waist and held you still as he rolled his hips up once, causing you to feel his painfully hard erection through his slacks. You released a surprised sound as the material of his pants rubbed against your bare heat.

“You feel that?” He asked, his voice starting to sound strained as you met his hips in another roll. “That’s how bad I want you.”

You couldn’t stop the pathetic whimper that left your lips as you rutted against him. You wanted so badly to have him in any way that he wanted you. “T-Tell me what to do.”

Elvis released your hips, kissing you as his hands went to unbuckle the front of his pants. Your heart rate increased as you anticipated his next move, finding yourself eagerly awaiting his direction. He didn’t speak as he grabbed your wrist and guided your hand up to your mouth.

"Spit," He instructed casually. He smiled at your hesitation. "It's okay."

You felt hot all over but you followed his instructions. His gaze was intense as he watched you, his eyes never leaving yours even as he guided your wet hand beneath his pants. He exhaled tensely as he wrapped your wet fingers around him. You watched his eyelids go heavy as he showed you what to do, taking his hand away when he thought you had the motion down.

“That's perfect, baby,” He whispered, grabbing your waist again and moving you against your own hand as you continued pumping him.

You weren't satisfied. “I want to feel you.”

He sighed but he wasn't annoyed. "What do you want?"

"You?"

"Me?"

"Yes."

"My cock?"

He could've lit you on fire and you would have burned up in half the time than you did in that moment. He made your physically weak.

"Yes."

"Say it."

"No."

"Don't be shy, birdie, you can say it. I wanna hear you."

"I...I want your cock."

The sentence sounded foreign on your tongue but he still muttered a gentle praise and pulled your arm away before reaching down to push his slack down, fully exposing his erect penis. He kicked the material the rest of the way down his legs, leaving him as bare as you were. He shifted beneath you, pulling your hips down until your heat met his aching erection. The sounds that left his lips made you feral, you didn’t want to miss a second of watching him pleasure himself with your arousal.

Your hips stuttered from the contact and you felt him shutter. You moved experimentally, your eyes threatening to fall shut. Elvis began to meet your movements in shallow thrusts and the pleasure you were feeling to intensified.

“Just like that,” He encouraged, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. "Fuck."

Your hand moved from where it rested on his chest and wrapped around his throat. You applied the slightest pressure, teasing him. He tensed and his breath caught in his throat. His lips parted as if to say something--to warn you of his impending rapture. He started to push you away but you stopped him.

"I want you to," You insisted, encouraging him.

His movements faltered and his gaze went unfocused before his eyes rolled back and his hips stuttered against yours.

He swore, forcing you still as he came down. He exhaled while kissing your shoulder, still feeling the heat of your core against him. “Tell me.”

“I’m your girl,” You said knowingly, your eyes closed as you hugged him back.

“My girl.” His breathing started to even out again.

You pulled away from his embrace, looking down at his blissed out expression. You kissed him briefly on the forehead before standing from the bed.

“Where’re you are goin?” He asked following you with his eyes, a lazy smirk on his lips.

“Just a second,” You chided as you walked into the bathroom, grabbing a cloth from your towel rack before standing at the sink to run warm water over it. You cleaned yourself up quickly before rinsing the cloth, shrugging on the white silk robe that Elvis had gotten you. When you returned to the room he had pulled his slacks back up his legs. He sat against your headboard with them unfastened, staring at the ceiling.

He only looked up when he noticed you, his blank expression softening into a smile. “There you are. I was getting lonesome, darlin.”

You cleaned him up before going to discard the rag in the bathroom. You turned off the lights and joined him in bed after, pulling your comforter over the two of you and laying your head on his bare chest. You listened to the steady beat of his heart, closing your eyes and getting lost in the sound as he traced patterns into your shoulder.

“It’s Christmas,” He said suddenly, his low voice cutting through the silence.

You couldn’t see the clock on your bedside table, but you figured it was past midnight now. “It is.”

He reached up to turn on the lamp, causing you to squint against the light.

“What are you doing?” You asked as he sat up in the bed, sitting up after him.

“Here,” He said, taking the ring off of his pinky finger and grabbing your hand.

“No.” You tried to pull your hand away. “I can’t.”

“Take it,” He laughed, slipping the ring onto your middle finger. You sighed, looking down at it on your hand as he left a tender kiss on your cheek. “Merry Christmas, baby.”

“I don’t have anything to give you.”

“You give me everything just by being here with me like this.”

“That’s not enough.”

“I don’t want anything but you.”

You met his eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

“Oh no,” He said with an exasperated sigh, pretending to think about it for a moment. “Fine, just don’t go getting yourself upset.”

You were hesitant to continue, you didn’t want to ruin the moment, but you had to ask. “Could you love me?” There was a beat of silence and you worried he misunderstood. “N-Not do you love me, but could you.”

“Could I love you?” He repeated, you nodded your head. He looked down, fidgeting with the ring on your finger for a moment before meeting your eyes again. “Why do you ask?”

“I want to know how you feel.”

He chuckled softly, tapping your chin before answering. “I could love you.”

“You think?”

“I know I could.”

His response was enough to minimize your growing insecurities for the moment at least, so you didn’t question him further. Instead you smiled as he kissed you, kissing him back slowly. When he broke the kiss to turn off the lights you let your smile drop. Despite you temporary satisfaction, you were still dreading the feelings that would come back tomorrow when you left this room and went on acting as if this night never happened. You wanted to stay in this moment forever—or for any amount of time it took to fill you up enough to last a lifetime.

You knew then that, dreadfully enough, you were in love with Elvis Presley.

And it terrified you to your core.

*

[stillalittlelostngl]

Gojo/Reader Sick Day NSFW

 So this is a one-shot rn but i’m thinking of making it maybe an interconnected series of them? I toyed w/ the idea of a fully fleshed out story for it but idk. I don’t really have a good idea of the reader’s character to get heavy into a plot like that. One shots where i don’t have to develop a background and distinct character motivations tho? I can do that. Maybe something will come to me and i’ll circle back around to it idk. I’m also working on a geto/reader (honestly haven’t truly decided on the pairing yet - toss up between nanami & geto) that i’m actually really excited about so i feel like i’d be spreading myself a bit thin. If you want a good gojo/reader fic go check out mushmoon12’s - the girls are being fed w/ it omg. 

I’ve had the outline of this ready to go since November and have just been sitting on it.

You can’t hold back the mumbled curses as you shift around. Your body unable to get comfortable no matter which way you twist and turn under the mountain of blankets you had  piled on top of yourself before falling asleep. 

Everything is much too warm and your body aches as you move. Your fever has not gone down it seems. 

You had woken earlier that day with a kick drum pounding behind your eyes, your throat scratchy and your skin searing hot to the touch. You weren’t used to feeling anything other than ‘normal’ so the cold you’d developed had you convinced you were at death’s door. Calling in sick from classes left a bad taste in your mouth but the thought of pushing your aching body to get dressed and walk all the way across campus was less and less appealing by the second.

You’re not sure if the text you’d sent to Yaga had been coherent - your mind was much too foggy to concern itself with such details - but after sending it you had promptly rolled back over and cocooned yourself into your bed, hoping to sleep off whatever it was that had you feeling so miserable. 

It hadn’t worked, of course, you realize as your mind becomes more and more present. With an irritated huff you work on untangling yourself, the process taking longer as your limbs feel like dead weight as you try to coordinate yourself. 

You finally manage to get your head out from beneath the covers, your eyes squinting at the harsh light you don’t recall turning on, and you let out a soft gasp of surprise when the first thing you see after returning to the world of the living is deep cerulean. 

“Mornin’”, Satoru’s smile is all teeth and he’s certainly made himself comfortable on your bed as his larger body has somehow taken up most of the space. He’s laid out like he owns the place. You’re not all that sure of when he got there. Or how. You’re certain your door had been locked before you went to bed last night. 

You raise a questioning brow to him, “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough to see how pathetic you are when you’re sick,” he brings one of his hands to your forehead, feeling the fever on your skin and clicks his tongue, “I didn’t believe Yaga at first but you really are in a bad way, huh? Poor thing.” 

You’d roll your eyes at his teasing if you could find the energy for it. 

"Fuck off,” is all you can manage to mumble before attempting to shift away from him. Entertaining him when you feel as if you’d been hit with a semi isn’t sounding all that appealing. 

"Hey, hey," his hands make quick work of stopping you from moving away from him, "Don't be like that. How are you even more cranky than usual? You must be feeling better.” He pulls your face back to him and his eyes examine you under those long white lashes. He takes in the rosy hue of your cheeks and the glazed over look in your eyes. It’s all looking very familiar to him even if he’d never seen you sick before. You recognize the look in his eyes too. 

You blame the sudden dizzy feeling overtaking your brain on the fever. 

"I know!” he suddenly releases your face and claps his hands as he arrives at a thought, not paying attention to how the sharp noise causes you to wince slightly "let's play doctor. I'll take real good care of you.” 

"Please, I'm surprised you manage to keep yourself alive day to day.”

"Come on,” he insists as his hands begin uncovering the rest of your body from the blankets, ignoring your protests, “It'll be fun. Let me take care of you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” you practically hiss as you put up a weak resistance against his wandering hands. 

“Not really what I had in mind,” the octave his voice takes causes you to still in your movements. He smiles down at you with that shit eating grin. The one that promises that he’s up to no good. You’ve seen it a million times - usually it’s reserved for when he’s about to do something to annoy Yaga that you and Geto try to talk him out of. More recently, though, he’s been using it when it’s just you two. 

A trill goes down your spine, heating your body further at the thought of the good trouble he’s been the cause of recently. 

You nearly hiss when he finally manages to uncover the rest of your body. The cool air hitting your overheated skin brings some relief but it’s short lived as his hands begin to travel to where your sleeping top has ridden up, his fingers ghosting along the skin as he toys with the hem. 

His eyes drink in the sight of you in that way that makes your stomach do flips before he startings leaning down towards you again, bringing his face closer and closer to your own. 

Gojo let's out a soft questioning hum when his lips meet your cheek instead of the intended target. You can see the pout already forming on his lips, upset that you had turned your head from him and denied him. He always pouted when he didn’t get his way. Spoiled brat. 

"I could get you sick,” you explain as you bring your hands to the ones that are still playing with the fabric of your top. Tempting as he was, one of you had to be sensible and you knew it was never going to be him. 

His pout quickly morphs into another shit eating grin at your explanation. “Oh, you really do care about me. Don’t you?” 

You barely get a mumbled ‘shut up’ out before he silences you with a kiss. His lips quickly molding against yours and silencing whatever harsh words you had for him. You can’t help the small moan as his tongue slips against yours. 

He shifts above you, caging you in-between his body and the mattress as he moves to pepper sloppy kisses and bites down your neck and collarbone, tasting the slight salty sheen of sweat that coats your skin. Your breath shudders at the feeling of his teeth as he marks you. He’s always eager to leave marks on your skin - you want to hate him for it. You’ve told him so many times to be mindful of where he leaves them, not wanting to suffer the awkward glances that others might send your way should they see them. You’re certain the idea of others seeing evidence of the time the two of you spend together only encourages him to do it more. Bastard. 

It’s hard to stay mad at him though. At least when his mouth is moving against your skin like this. 

He pulls back from his work for a moment, surely admiring it you think in irritation, before his eyes raise and meet yours. When you offer no further protest he rewards you with a kiss as his hands begin removing what little clothing you had on. His eagerness making quick work of the process. His hands and mouth travel across the expanse of newly exposed skin. His fingers dip between your folds and you feel him smile against your skin. You’re already soaking wet. 

"You're not being a very good doctor, you know,” your breath is airy, the feeling of his fingers against you sends a buzz of pleasure throughout your body. Your mind too muddled with desire to think as his other hand moves your thighs further apart to make room for him. Anticipation coiling the spring further and you nearly forget how to breathe properly, "More like a pervert taking advantage.” 

"Semantics,” his breath ghosts along your skin as he moves further down your body. 

Your hands rush forward to grab his head, stopping him. He stares at you, the question evident on his face and you can’t help but look away in embarrassment. 

 "I feel gross" and you do. The sweat from your fever doesn’t exactly feel sexy in the moment. 

"I'm gunna make a mess of you either way" he says, continuing his descent as his fingers resume their exploration of you. You can’t stop the gasp as he pushes one inside of you, it glides in easily to the first knuckle. Your soft flesh warming him to the bone, "does it really matter?" The feeling of his breath on your clit as his finger slowly begins to pump in a steady rhythm nearly makes you forget every thought you’ve ever had. 

"I guess not" 

He wastes little time pressing his tongue against you, your eyes nearly rolling back into your head at the overwhelming sensation as he slips another finger into you, stretching you out further. You’re mesmerized by the sight he makes between your thighs, gripping his white hair tightly as you groan at the heat building inside of you. The feeling of your nails raking through his hair against his scalp is enough to have him choking out his own moan. The sound vibrating against your core and sending another wave of pleasure through you.

You can’t help the incoherent babbling of praise and encouragement that falls from your lips when his fingers increase in tempo and his lips lock around your clit.  It has you squirming in his hold, trying to meet each thrust of his fingers. 

Your desire builds, steadily climbing but your hazy mind recognizes that it’s not enough. You need more. 

He lets you pull his head up to yours. You nearly whine as you feel his fingers slip out of you, your heat cleaning around the new emptiness as you bring his lips to yours again. You taste yourself on his lips as your tongue explores his mouth, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull his body closer to yours. You feel his length straining against his pants as your grind your hips against his, the friction sending small electric currents of pleasure throughout your body but still not enough. 

You force your aching muscles to move and soon enough you find yourself on top of him. In the back of your mind you want to think that you surprised him with the movement but you know that he’s only under you because he allowed it. 

He’s smiling up at you, his eyes heavy lidded with desire as his hands come to rest on your hips. He looks nearly delirious and you’re sure he could say the same for you. 

“Eager, are you?” his teasing is cut short with a groan as you grind down on him again. The fabric between you doing little to mask the feeling of him against you. 

You bite your tongue to prevent your own reply to his stupid remark, opting instead to pull on his waistband and release his dick from the restraint of his pants. You nearly smirk as he lets out a soft hiss at the feeling of your hand wrapping around him, he’s always been so sensitive that even the slightest touch from you can draw noises from him. 

Your other hand goes to balance yourself on his chest as you raise your hips. You can’t stop your own noises from spilling from your lips as you lower yourself onto him. His nails sink into your flesh deeper as you take him inside of you inch by inch. He doesn’t bother to quiet the loud moan when you finally have his dick fully inside of you. He never bothers to be quiet. 

Your pace starts off steady as you move against him. Your teeth catch your bottom lip as you fight off your own moans at the look of him beneath you. His pale skin is flushed, pupils blown wide and mouth hanging open. You raise your hips higher, his length nearly slipping out of your completely before you’re slamming yourself back down onto him. The action drawing noises from both of you, his dick buried so deep inside of you with each movement that it leaves you seeing stars. His fingers digging into your hips leave small indentations as his grip tightens, small curses leaving his lips as he watches you move on him. 

"You're supposed to be the one taking care of me and here I am doin all the work," you moan, digging your own nails into the skin of his chest as punishment, "fucking spoiled brat." 

"You wanna be spoiled too baby?" He grabs your hips suddenly, taking control as he thrusts up into you. He angles himself just right to hit that sweet spot again and again. The one that makes you sing for him. "Cmon, is this what you wanted? Gotta use your words" he teases, knowing that he's fucking any sense right out of you. 

Your grasp of how to coherently string together a sentence in any human language is lost to you. Instead, you find yourself whimpering and throwing any arrangements of syllables together that would get him to just keep doing that. The tips of your ears begin to burn as you feel yourself reaching your peak. His thrusts become harder and deeper as he feels you beginning to clench around him, knowing the signs that you’re close has him chasing his own release. 

Gojo’s always been such a visual creature. The sight of you fucking yourself onto him, his length entering your wet heat, your whole body being rocked by his thrusts is nearly enough for him finish right then and there. It isn’t until he feels you spasming over him and his name tumbling out of your mouth like a prayer that the pressure becomes too much. His thrusts become erratic as pulls your body down against his, drawing out your orgasm with each movement. The pressure snaps with one final thrust into you, his warmth filling you to the brim as he releases a strangled cry of your name. He pumps into you a few more times, riding out his wave until there’s nothing left. You can feel his heart hammering away in his chest as you both take a moment to catch your breath. 

When you look up at him you find his eyes already trained on you. His pupils are still so blown out that they nearly overtake the entirety of the blue you’ve grown so attached to. His smile isn’t the cocky self-assured one or the shit eating grin that you’ve grown to associate him with. It’s a soft thing that is so unlike him you almost think you’re seeing things. His hand rises to your cheeks and the kiss is soft too. Tender, even, as he holds you against him. He pulls back from you with a content sigh. 

“That was really dumb.” you can’t help but say, “you’re going to be really annoying in the next few days when you start to come down with whatever I have.”

He scoffs. 

“Please, as if I’d get sick,” he says as if the idea is entirely ludacris. Maybe it is. With a power like his, who knows. 

You turn your head down hiding your own soft smile as you bury your face in his neck, breathing in his scent. 

It’s followed by a sharp yelp of pain from his as you bite down against the skin. 

Just enough to hurt. 

Just enough to remind him he’s human too.

____

He does get sick and like predicted is very fucking needy about it and whines to you to take care of him

"You have to take responsibility! You did this to me" "Dumbass I told you you'd get sick! This isn't my responsibility!" "How was I supposed to know this would happen? You should've been smarter and stopped me" "You had your tongue down my throat! Of course this would happen"

you do end up playing nurse. He's so demanding and childish but it's also...kinda cute.

[scarabsinthestardust]

Better in the Morning // Ch. 14

MASTERLIST

word count: 2900+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Language; pregnancy; pregnancy tests, doctor's appointments; anxiety; mentions of depression; a tiny mention of abortion and archaic Tennessee state laws regarding it; bad news and a cliffhanger (please forgive me)

I rarely get sick. I sometimes say it’s because I inherited my father’s immune system. When everyone around me got COVID, I somehow got away scot-free. So, when I woke up feeling extremely nauseous, I brushed it off as the aftereffects of something I ate. Maybe the Chinese food from last night didn’t agree with me. But when it hadn’t faded by the next day, I resigned myself to accepting that I caught a stomach bug.

I scoured the cabinets for any kind of nausea medicine, but the only one I found expired six months ago. I groaned and threw it in the trash. I didn’t bother changing out of my pajama pants, just threw my hair into a messy bun and headed to the drug store.

I grabbed a Sprite and went hunting for the medicine. I found it without too much trouble, but as I cut through another aisle to head towards checkout, I froze. I stared at the shelves, eyeing the pink and blue boxes wearily. There’s no way. I don’t know why it even crossed my mind. I’d been on the birth control shot for a while now. I haven’t really had a period, but that’s normal for the type of contraception I’ve been on. Other than the nausea, I didn’t have any symptoms. So why was I suddenly worried? With a sigh, I grabbed a random one off the shelf. Just to be sure.

~

Sitting in the bathroom, I stared at the test. It’s crazy how a stupid, tiny piece of white plastic can hold so much power over someone. I debated throwing it away, that it was a stupid idea and there was no way in hell that’s what was wrong with me. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “This is so dumb,” I said to myself before grabbing it off the counter and popping off the cap.

I waited however long the instructions specified before picking it up again. I’d talked myself into believing I was just being paranoid, pushing my anxieties down and telling myself to quit worrying, and that I could laugh about it later. After all, the shot only had a one percent failure rate. I was fine. Probably. But when I saw those two parallel lines, my breath caught in my throat and my heart sank into my stomach. Fuck me.

Because I don’t know how to be cool, calm, and collected in the face of certain situations, the next logical step was to panic. I grabbed my keys and drove, probably way over the speed limit, back to the store. I tried to convince myself it was a faulty test, a false positive. I would just try one more. But the anxiety won out. When I dropped eleven different boxes on the checkout counter, the clerk raised an eyebrow at me.

“Don’t ask,” I muttered.

~

Positive. Every single one was positive. Fuck. Me.

I wanted to throw up, but couldn’t tell if it was nerves, the large amount of water I consumed in such a short period, or the fact that I had an actual human in my stomach. Between sobbing and hyperventilating, I eventually did manage to puke. I sat on the bathroom floor, my mind going a thousand miles a minute. I had no idea what I was going to do.

Jake and the guys went back on tour a couple of weeks ago and wouldn’t be back for almost another month. I couldn’t call Jake; it wouldn’t be right to drop that bomb and cause a huge distraction. He needed to focus on their busy tour list and countless shows they were playing around the country. Finn was in Colorado for the week. I could call Richie, but how much help would he be in this situation? I didn’t have any girlfriends I was close enough with to help me out with this. I had one more option, though.

I opened my contacts and found the name. I stared at it for what seemed like ages while I got my breathing under control before I finally pressed ‘DIAL.’

The line was answered after a few rings. “Hello?”

“Hey, Karen. Um, are you busy?” My voice sounded raw from crying.

“Not at all. What’s going on, sweetheart? Is everything okay?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I’m kinda freaking out. I’m sorry. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“It’s okay, honey. Just breathe, tell me what happened. Is it Jake?”

“I’m pregnant,” I blurted out. I wasn’t ready for the weight of those words and how scary it would feel saying them out loud.

Karen gasped. “Oh my God, that’s… you haven’t told Jake yet?” I could hear the excitement in her voice.

“No, I can’t tell him while they’re on tour. We… we didn’t plan for this. What if he doesn’t want a baby? What if he’s not ready? What if I’m not ready?” I was fighting sobs as I spoke, and it was a losing battle. “I don’t know how to be a mom.”

Karen’s voice never faltered as she talked me off the metaphorical ledge, calmly pulling me back. “Honey, just breathe for me. I know you’re scared, and that’s okay. It’s a big change, and it can be difficult. Trust me, I know. But you have to remember you aren’t going to be doing this alone. You always have me and Kelly. And you’ve practically got the whole rest of the village there with you.” She let out a deep sigh. “Jake loves you. I think he’s going to be so happy. You guys will figure it out as you go, but you’ll do it together.”

I sniffled and rubbed my eyes with the heel of my palm. I knew she was right, and that I was surrounded by wonderful people that would be more than willing to provide support. Of course, I worried about my dad’s reaction when he inevitably, eventually found out. But my biggest fear, the one I couldn’t quell the anxiety of, was Jake. Despite Karen’s comforting words, I was terrified he would be disappointed. The little voice in my head told me it was going to ruin his life, his dream, and I struggled to silence that voice.

“Did you see a doctor yet?”

“No. I just took twelve drug store pregnancy tests.”

“Twelve…? You know what, I don’t want to know,” she chuckled. “The point is, the first step is to make an appointment with your OB. Do you have any idea how far along you might be?”

I involuntarily snorted a laugh. “Sorry, no clue.”

“That’s okay. They can tell you that. They’ll do an ultrasound and bloodwork to check for a bunch of different things, make sure the baby’s healthy and everything.”

A whole new collection of worries and fears rose up in my chest. What if I passed down whatever illness made my mother take her life, then Luca’s? Would the baby inherit Jake’s issues too, making it a double whammy in the depression department? I wouldn’t bring any of this up to Karen, so I forced it back down as far as I could. One thing at a time.

~

The earliest OB appointment was a week out. It gave me a chance to catch my breath and plan things out in my head. Once I got all the tears out, I started doing my own research and gathering questions I wanted to ask the doctor. I tried my best to pretend everything was normal when Jake called. I know it was for the best right now, but hiding this from him was so much more painful than I imagined.

I decided to hold off on telling Finn, on the off chance he accidentally let something slip to Josh. Richie was suspicious the second I told him I’d be out of work for a doctor’s appointment. He eventually coaxed it out of me, staring at me in shock when I told him. I made him swear not to say a word to anyone, and he offered to close the shop and come with me to the doctor’s, but I declined. I needed to do this on my own. Part of it was just me being stubborn and not wanting to ask for help, but another part was stuck on a dark road, telling me I needed to figure out how to do it myself, just in case. I hated thinking like that and feeling like I had to prepare for every worst-case scenario, but it was ingrained into me, and nothing I did could rid myself of those thoughts.

By the time the appointment rolled around, my nerves hadn’t settled at all. I sat in the waiting room, trying and failing to focus on a book, my knee shaking so hard I was receiving pitiful looks from others in the waiting room.

I apologized profusely to the phlebotomist who did my bloodwork and the ultrasound tech for my nervousness, who sweetly assured me that it was perfectly normal to be anxious about it all, especially since it was my first time. She asked me some routine questions as she set everything up for the ultrasound. She did warn me that the gel would be cold, but I still jumped when it touched my stomach. Cold was an understatement.

“Okay, you ready?”

I nodded quietly before she put the handheld scanner against my skin (I learned later that it’s called a transducer). After some movement and uncomfortable silence, she spoke again. “There we are. Do you want to see?” I gave her an inaudible ‘yes’ and she turned the screen to face me.

“I’d say you’re just barely over six weeks. There’s the embryo, and we have a heartbeat.” She pointed a few things out, explaining as she went, but I stopped listening. I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears as I stared at the screen that displayed the tiny, bean-shaped thing I was growing inside of me, the little bundle of cells and life that would eventually be a whole baby. I could see it now, and that made it real.

When this all first came to light, I considered all possible options. Just to be prepared. Not that abortion would have been an option in the state of Tennessee, what with all these old white men creating laws about women’s bodies, but it stopped being something I was considering before I even made the doctor’s appointment. Now that I was actually seeing it, and it was a sure thing, it hit me that this was my baby. Jake’s baby. The idea that we were going to be parents was so surreal to me.

I didn’t even realize I had started crying until the ultrasound tech called my name, pulling me from my racing thoughts. “If you need to look into what your options are, I can get you some brochures and phone numbers.”

“What? Oh, no. I’m sorry. It’s a little overwhelming, but I’m okay. My boyfriend’s just out of town for work.”

She almost looked as though she didn’t believe me, but I couldn’t blame her. I was a mess, and I’m sure women lied to her all the time about their personal situations.

I thanked her and she directed me to the checkout desk to schedule my next appointment. As I walked back to my car, I kept repeating to myself, as if I stopped saying it, I would wake up and it would all be a dream, “I’m gonna have a baby.”

~

The entire day before Jake returned home, I cleaned the house top to bottom. It kept me busy and kept me from panicking too much. I wasn’t going to put it off any longer than I already had to; I was telling him tonight. Everything was ready, now I just needed to wait.

I sat on the couch to relax, and I must have dozed off, the day’s business catching up with me. I didn’t hear the front door, or the sound of Jake’s boots as he lightly treaded across the hardwood floors. My eyes fluttered open at something lightly brushing my cheek, and I smiled when my vision came into focus on Jake’s face.

“Hey, you’re home. Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It’s all good, baby. You want to go to bed?” He kept his voice low and soft, and I could tell he was tired, too.

I just nodded in agreement, sleepily following him up the stairs. He made sure I was tucked into bed before he disappeared into the bathroom for a quick shower. I almost fell right back asleep, but my eyes shot open when I remembered my news. I opened the bedside table drawer and pulled out the little black box, something I threw together that might help me make the announcement. I concealed it under the blanket.

Jake came out of the bathroom, sporting messy, towel-dried hair, and threw some clothes on before joining me in bed. “Thought you were going to sleep. You okay?”

“Yeah, uh… I know you’re probably tired, I am too, but I have something for you, and I need to do it tonight.”

“Okay,” he gave me a concerned look. “Is it another tattoo?”

I laughed nervously. “No, but this is also one hundred percent non-returnable.”

He eyed the box suspiciously when I brought it out and into his view. He tried to ask me what it was, but I just handed it to him and gestured to open it. I held my breath as he examined the contents, trying to process what he was looking at.

The box contained a plush baby toy that resembled a cartoonish, green moth, and right next to it was the tiniest pair of black Chelsea boots I could find on the internet. Jake didn’t speak as he studied them, his brain only starting to put the pieces together. At the bottom of the box, I placed a purple envelope that held the sonogram. I heard his breath hitch when he pulled it out. He stared at it silently for what seemed like hours, my heart pounding in my chest.

“Jake? Say something, please.”

“You’re pregnant?”

“Yeah,” I whispered.

Another minute passed, his eyes not leaving the photo he held in front of him. “We’re gonna have a baby?” I couldn’t quite read his expression. It was almost as if he was in shock.

“Yeah, we are.”

When he finally looked at me, there were fresh tears forming in his eyes. “I’m gonna be a dad?”

I could only nod as I fought back my own tears. He blinked and his breath quickened before his hand was on the back of my head pulling me to him, his other still holding the sonogram. “Fuck,” he muttered in between kisses. “Fuck, we’re gonna be parents. You’re gonna be a mom.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” I laughed dryly. “I’m fucking terrified, Jake.”

“Shit, me too. But Kya,” his hand on my cheek now, he kissed me again. “I’m so fuckin’ happy. This is so… I’m gonna be a dad,” he repeated. “Do you know how long…?”

“I’m at about 10 weeks now. I have my next appointment next week, if you wanna-“

“Yes. Of course I want to be there. I want to be there for everything.”

I felt a huge weight lift off my chest. Jake was happy. He was excited about this journey. He wanted this. And it all didn’t seem so scary anymore.

“I cant wait to tell everybody. Mom’s gonna be so excited.”

“Actually, your mom already knows.” I smiled sheepishly. “I called her when I found out. Almost four weeks ago. I was panicking and I knew she’d handle it better than Richie.”

He chuckled. “That’s reasonable. Shit, I can’t believe you kept it from me for four weeks.”

“I’m sorry, Jake, I-“

“No, don’t be. I get it, I know why you did.” He took another thoughtful look at the sonogram and placed it on the bedside table, putting the box next to it. He wrapped an arm around me, his hand lingering on my stomach before pulling me gently to lie down. “I love you so much. Both of you.”

~

The next day, we arranged plans with the guys for dinner, pushing it out a few days to plan everything out, and give them a chance to rest up from tour before dropping the news. I had gotten a few copies of the sonogram to give to them. They were all my family now, and I wanted them to be involved as much as possible.

But the night before we were supposed to see them, some more unexpected news brought everything to a screeching halt.

Jake and I were just starting to get ready for bed; I was putting my hair up in a loose braid, Jake doing something in the bathroom when his phone rang from the top of the dresser. He sighed in annoyance as he walked over to answer it.

I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but the way Jake’s expression changed, I knew something was wrong. “I’m on the way,” he said before hanging up and rushing to put his shoes on. I started to ask what was going on, but he beat me to it, and my heart sank at his words.

“Sam’s been in an accident.”

///

I'm so sorry for the things that I've done here. I hate cliffhangers as much as the next person, so the next chapter may be out a little quicker than the weekly schedule I've been trying to stick with.

TAGLIST Let me know if you want to be added!

@hollyco @fleetingjake @musicislove3389

[mypoisonedvine]

the martyrdom of st. valentine (and other romantic stories) || dark!Bucky & dark!(stepbrother?)Steve x reader

summary: you wanted to surprise your boyfriend on valentine's day, but he and your foster brother have a surprise of their own.

word count: 2.7k

warnings: smut (heavy dubcon to the point of pretty much noncon), kinda stepcest (as per summary, steve is the reader's foster brother), bondage, a lil touch of degradation

2/14 to-do list

get waxed

get Steve out of the apartment

pick up chocolate-covered strawberries from bakery on 6th

blindfold and handcuff myself to the bed

be waiting for Bucky naked when he gets here

You sighed as you looked down at the paper, crossing the first and third items off the list. The second was going to be a bit harder, unfortunately; your foster brother had a habit of hanging around and cramping your style as much as he could manage. He felt like a real brother in that way… okay, maybe he felt like a real brother in most ways, a consequence of knowing him for most of your life, but he was definitely not your real brother. You remembered that each time you caught yourself staring too long when he was shirtless, or returning from the gym all veiny and glistening with sweat.

But you also remembered that he was still the closest thing to a real brother you'd ever had, and you scolded yourself internally for ever acting differently.

It didn’t matter now— you had Bucky, and he was the most amazing guy you’d ever met.  No, Steve was definitely not happy that introducing his best friend to his sister led to a relationship forming, but he couldn’t stop either of you in spite of his efforts to keep you apart.

Bucky had once expressed his suspicions that it was at least in part due to jealousy, if subliminal.  But you denied it unilaterally— he’s basically my brother, you told him, though it was more of a reminder to yourself than anything.

Perverted concerns about Steve’s motivations aside, Bucky was a great guy.  A bit of a sweet-talker for sure, and not exactly known for his ability to keep a long-term, serious relationship, but he was adamant that you had changed that and for once you were beginning to believe him.  You’d said from the beginning that you didn’t need this to be the proverbial ‘it’ for either of you but that you didn’t do hook-ups— especially with your brother’s friends, and extra especially with your brother’s closest and longest friend.  It only took a brief speech and two shots to convince you, now six months later and you were still going strong.

Days like this made you so happy you’d given in to his advances.  But they also made you regret giving in to Steve’s idea to be roommates in college.

“Stevie!” you yelped as he walked in, stuffing the to-do list into your backpocket.  “Just the man I wanted to see.”

“I doubt that,” he scoffed.  “It’s Valentine’s Day, I bet you want to see Bucky.  He’s coming over, right?  And you want me to fuck off so my best friend can go to town on my sister?”

You frowned, crossing your arms.  “I wanted to see you because I have a gift for you.”

“... you do?”  His eyebrow raised and you hoped your smirk looked just as smug as it felt.

“So do you want your gift or do you want to be an asshole?”

“Do I have to pick just one?” he joked.

“Just come over here,” you instructed, waving him closer.  He seemed hesitant, but eventually did as you’d asked.  From your other back pocket you pulled out two tickets.

“Rangers, center ice,” you beamed.  “For you and a date.”

“And this isn’t just an excuse to get me out of the house?”

“No, it’s a thank you for being such a great brother.”

“So, if I wanted to take Bucky…” he trailed off, already calling your bluff as you rolled your eyes.

“Okay, that’s just sad.  There’s no reason you can’t find a girl to take��� god knows Bucky hasn’t spent a Valentine’s Day alone since the fucking eighth grade.  And you’re just as cute as he is!”

“Well, if you could alert the rest of the female population to that, that would be great,” he scoffed, “but until then I’ll take the tickets,” he decided as he took them from your hand.  “A Rangers game might be the only thing distracting enough to keep me from thinking about what you and Buck are gonna do while I’m gone.”

You were hoping for a little more enthusiasm considering how much the tickets had cost you, but at least he was going to go and give you the apartment to yourself for the evening.  “You’re welcome, by the way.”

After stripping and sprinkling rose petals on the comforter, you'd actually found a YouTube tutorial on how to blindfold and handcuff oneself, and it was a little odd that enough people had this problem to merit its existence but it was still very helpful: turns out the secret is to blindfold yourself first but keep it folded up with one eye able to see until you do the handcuffs, then use your arm to slide the blindfold down into place.

It was tricky, and a little bit extra awkward while naked, but you figured it out and smiled proudly to yourself as you completed your last task on your to-do list.

Now, for likely the most difficult task of all: waiting in darkness and silence for Bucky to arrive.

Apparently it is, in fact, possible to be slightly bored yet titillated.  The thought of what Bucky would do to you when he got here was exciting, but it only made you crave his presence more which enhanced your quiet loneliness.  It wasn't like you could read a book or listen to music to kill the time, so you settled for humming to yourself as you waited.

Don't go changing, to try and please me, something something before, hmmm

I just want someone that I can talk to, I want you just the way you are...

But that grew tiresome quickly and you resorted instead to planning exacty how angry you would be if Bucky was late when you were waiting for him in such a compromising and inconvenient state.  For a moment you imagined he'd really gone to the Rangers game with Steve and became briefly livid over a hypothetical situation.

The crackling roar of Bucky's motorcycle outside was distant but undeniable, making you smile in anticipation.  You worried for a moment that you might have locked the top lock of the front door by instinct, but thankfully Bucky and to make it inside alright since next thing you knew, your bedroom door was opening.

The rattle of the doorknob made your breath catch; you opened your legs slowly in time with the quiet creak of the hinges.  “I’ve been waiting for you…” you purred.

“Hi there, babydoll,” Bucky’s voice answered back huskily.

The heavy steps of his boots made it clear he hadn't taken his shoes off at the door, a habit that had driven you crazy since he was your annoying brother's also-annoying best friend.  Was this the real reason he'd chained you up, so he could freely irritate you?  What next, was he gonna put a cold drink on your nightstand without a coaster?

"You really went all out for me, sweetheart," he noticed, his voice closer than you'd expected; it was fun to not know exactly where he would be, it made you squirm under the gaze you couldn't see but could somehow feel.

How weight joining yours on the bed was a good sign to his location though, along with his hands sliding up your legs.

“Look at this pretty pussy,” he cooed pridefully as he dove in suddenly and licked a thick stripe through your folds.

“Fuck,” you shivered, tugging on your handcuffs unintentionally.

“Feel good, babygirl?” he pressed, chuckling when you nodded.  “You want more?”

“Please,” you whimpered.

He didn’t get back to it right away, the weight on the bed shifting slightly, and it made you fear that he planned to make you beg more before eating you out— but finally his lips returned to you as his tongue explored your sex.

“Oh god,” you moaned, your back arching of its own volition.  It was a little different than he normally did this— less confident and measured, more cautious yet hungry.  Typically he teased you a lot more, knowing exactly the spots that drove you wild and intentionally leaving them understimulated until you begged him to let you come, but now as soon as he found them he was targeting them— perhaps a rare show of mercy from the guy who was normally happy to leave you on edge for hours.

You could feel his moans vibrating into you when he slid his tongue inside and against your channel; it instantly made your back arch as the handcuffs quietly clinked above your head.

He stopped just a little too soon, pulling your hips up until the back of your legs were resting on the front of his.  Being manhandled by him turned you on enough to make you bite your lip.

"Fuck, put your cock in me, wanna feel you," you moaned your plea as you heard the rustling of clothes; your mouth watered when you imagined Bucky stripping, with that insane body of his.

His thick head glided over your entrance and you were preparing to beg some more when he suddenly pushed in, giving you what you wanted so much faster than normal.  Not that you were complaining!

He was also much quieter than normal, which you were actually willing to complain about but didn't.

"Oh god," you groaned at the feeling of him stretching you open, gasping when his cock brushed right over your spot— it made your body jolt each time he pulled back and hit it again.

"Feels good, huh?" Bucky asked and you nodded happily.

"So good," you whimpered.

"I wasn't asking you."

Before you could question it, Bucky’s calloused fingers pulled up your blindfold— but it was Steve’s face above you, Steve’s body on top of yours… and, much to your horror, Steve’s cock inside you.

“What the fuck?!” you yelped, trying to squirm away as you tugged at the cuffs but failing completely.

“Fuck,” Steve winced, “you get really tight when you struggle like that.”

“Don’t act so surprised, babygirl,” Bucky cooed playfully as you turned to stare at his devilish grin.  “You wanted this… you just didn’t want to admit it to yourself.  And Stevie here always wanted this, too, and aren’t you so glad he told me?”

You shuddered as Steve continued thrusting, pushing his cock so deep it made you feel a little nauseous.  "Steve, you've gotta stop," you begged.   "If you love me, you'll stop."

"That's the thing: I love you too much to stop."

He moved faster, paying no mind to your confused whimpers, holding your hips tight as his head fell back slightly which brandished his thick neck and bobbing Adam's apple.

"There's no point in pretending," Bucky reminded you coldly, watching the whole thing with crossed arms and an expression that almost looked… bemused?  "You already showed us how much you love it, so don't waste your time acting so disgusted now."

You regretted more than anything saying that it felt good, literally asking him to fuck you before you really understood what you were asking for: you thought it was Bucky, yes, but that didn't mean it was an act.  It did feel good, and that must've been obvious to everyone since you were so wet already.  You could hear it each time he pushed all the way in, that telltale squelching noise that was somehow disgusting and hot all at once.

Steve wasn't so quiet now that he didn't have to be.  "God, you feel so good," he whispered, grabbing the backs of your knees and pushing your legs up.  It forced his cock even deeper and you choked on your own suppressed moan.

You heard Bucky opening his belt, and turned your head to see him pull out and stroke his cock while he watched Steve fuck you.  It was hard to imagine what he was getting out of this; he never seemed like the sharing type, if anything he sometimes became too possessive.  But clearly there was a lot about him and Steve that you didn't understand.

"Play with her tits," Bucky instructed, voice a bit deeper as he pleasured himself, "makes her come so fast."

Steve dropped your legs to rest on his shoulders so his hands were free to grope your chest, thick fingers twisting and tugging your nipples.  Annoyingly, Bucky knew his way around your body well by now, and so it was difficult to pretend that Steve's touches weren't sending shocks of pleasure right down your spine and to your core.

You had been biting on your lip so hard to stay quiet that you feared you would break the skin, until Bucky leaned down and gave you a little slap on the cheek— not very hard, but enough to make you gasp which in turn released the moan you'd been holding back.

"There it is, honey, don't be quiet for my benefit," Bucky encouraged.  "It's okay to like it, I'm not gonna be jealous."

As if that was your concern; angering your boyfriend by enjoying being fucked by your foster brother.  

"You really overestimate my interest in your— fuck— in your feelings," you panted as you glared up at Bucky where he was grinning down at you with a look that almost indicated pride.

"You're gonna come, aren't you?" he asked, ignoring your resistance entirely.  Whatever chance you had at pretending he was wrong was lost when, just for a moment, your eyes widened at his question.  "Yeah, thought so.  I can tell by that dumb look on your face.  I'm close too, babydoll, betcha wanna taste it…"

His free hand roughly held your jaw open as he stroked himself desperately, his weak groan coinciding with the moment you felt his hot seed spray into your open mouth, his taste familiar despite the entirely surreal circumstances.

It was purely coincidence that you came in that moment, your walls bearing down on Steve while you tried to stay silent so you wouldn't choke on Bucky's spend.

"Fuck, that's it, gonna fill this pretty mouth— god yes, you'd better swallow it all," he sighed as come painted your tongue and the inside of your cheek.  Maybe it was more than normal or maybe it was just that he was tightening his hand around the head of his cock to get every drop in your mouth, but either way it was enough to give you quite a mouthful to swallow, which you did without much question due to force of habit.

"M’close too," Steve warned as Bucky stepped back, "I'm gonna come."

“No, Steve, not inside,” you whimpered, hearing the way your voice had weakened after your orgasm, “you can’t…”

“I can,” he disagreed, “Bucky said so.”

Once again, Bucky's will was more important than your own, and your desperate pulling at the handcuffs was only another reminder of the way you'd guided yourself into his trap.

"Don't," you stammered one more time, but it was hard to focus when he was filling you exactly how you needed, when his thick hands gripping your waist felt just as perfect as you'd secretly imagined so many times… 

Denial is a powerful drug, but so is two orgasms in a row.

"Fuck!" you yelped as you felt a gush of warmth drip from your entrance, even further wetness spurring on Steve's fast and brutal thrusts into you.

"Knew you'd love it," Steve mumbled, growling slightly as he slammed into you.  "Knew you'd take it so well, make a pretty mess all over my cock— fuck I can't wait anymore, gotta fill you up, oh my god... gotta give you my load, honey, you want it?"

"Yes," you sobbed, "Steve, yes, come in me…"

He didn't need much more encouragement than that, groaning loudly as you felt his cock flex and pulse against your walls, his release overwhelmingly hot inside you.

You sighed in time with Steve as he finally stilled, and it was hard to know where to look when Steve and Bucky were both staring down at you.  “What happens now?” you found yourself asking, not so much a literal question about the next task but more about what the three of you were going to do with all the unfortunate truths that had come to light in less than half an hour.

“What happens now is I take my turn,” Bucky informed you sternly, pushing Steve aside.  “Did you really think I wasn’t gonna fuck my girlfriend on Valentine’s Day?”

[forever-emo-phase]

Mission Status: Sick!

Notes: Hello this is my first fic for Sanders Sides! It is inspired by @illogicallyinclined​‘s hockey AU! If you haven’t ever gotten into it, do it! However, you can still read even if you don’t know anything about the AU! Characters: Virgil, Logan

Ship: The whole thing is pretty much just analogical pining Warnings: Panic attack is described Genre: Just guys being dudes being gay. Fluff maybe? It’s not sad and that’s all I can tell you. Summary: Which is how Virgil arrived at his current situation, Logan tensely sitting at his desk in the middle of the night with shoulders so tight he looked like he was seconds away from shattering.

'It's a good thing that my homosexuality is stronger than my pride', Virgil thought as he opened a capri sun and violently squeezed it onto his sheets.

Check it out on Ao3 here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/33804841

Anxiety sucks. Virgil’s nails are always bitten down to the quick, hands never still, and the insides of his cheeks chewed and raw. If Virgil had to find a bright side, it would have to be his ability to read people. With just a look, Virgil could tell by the slump of his shoulders when Roman needed a little bit of extra praise. He would notice the redness around Patton’s eyes and know that he would need more company than normal. 

But the one person Virgil prided himself on seeing was Logan. It was almost second nature for him to sense the tension in Logan’s shoulders without even looking, he could almost feel it in the air. He could see when Logan needed to get out of his head and stop pushing himself before he broke. 

Dealing with Logan’s emotions, however, was slightly harder. If his approach was too physical, like he would approach Patton, Logan would withdraw. If he tried to take the same approach he would with Roman, showering compliments tempered with a light bit of teasing, Logan would get uncomfortable and retreat.

Which is how Virgil arrived at his current situation, Logan tensely sitting at his desk in the middle of the night with shoulders so tight he looked like he was seconds away from shattering.

'It's a good thing that my homosexuality is stronger than my pride', Virgil thought as he opened a capri sun and violently squeezed it onto his sheets. 

The thing with Logan is that he doesn’t care about himself. He will push himself to his limit and keep going, but, if someone else needs something? He will help as much as he can, even though sometimes it may not be overly obvious that he is helping.

“Hey Logan?” Virgil says from across the room, staring at his now soaked bedding. 

“Yes, Virgil?” Logan doesn’t look up from his computer as he sharply replies. For a moment Virgil wonders if this scheme was the best idea, it could fail horribly and Logan could be angry and refuse. But, the wheels were already in motion, his sheets were already wet, and there was no turning back.

“I fucked up.” He said plainly, watching as Logan’s head turned so fast to look at him that he was surprised that he didn’t hear a crack. Realizing how ominous his statement was, Virgil raised his hands and quickly spat out a placating “No it’s okay i’m fine!”

Logan let out a sigh before replying “What did you manage to do that was so dramatic that it required that statement, while I was sitting in the same room, only a handful of feet away from you?”

“Well…” Virgil started, choosing his words very carefully to make sure his plan could not fail. “I was panicking a little bit while I was drinking my Capri Sun and I squeezed it a little bit too hard. It spilled on my sheets and my bed is soaked now.” 

Logan’s eyes assessed Virgil, making him momentarily wonder if his lie was believable. Did his dishonesty show on his face? Was Logan about to get angry and yell at him? His hands began to shake slightly and his breathing picked up and, he thought wryly, at least now he wasn’t lying about being anxious. His fears were eased when he saw the slight softening of Logan’s face. 

“Oh Virgil,” Logan huffed out, his face morphing into an expression of fond exasperation, “You need to stop having drinks in your bed, especially ones of the extremely spillable and sugary type.”

Virgil shrugged, “It is what it is, you know?”

“It does not have to be the way that it is?” Logan said with a hint of confusion sneaking into his voice. “You can very easily change the circumstance.”

A small chuckle escaped from Virgil as he watched his roommate struggle to wrap his head around the statement. Logan was extremely smart, that was obvious, but watching him puzzle out modern slang and sayings struck Virgil as endearing every time. “It’s too late to change it now, you know?”

“You are correct.” Logan intoned and Virgil could already see some of the tension leaving Logan’s shoulders as he began to relax during the conversation. “Do you have a plan for drying your bedding before it is time for you to sleep?”

“Not at all.” Virgil said as he absentmindedly brought his hand to his mouth to bite his nails, but stopped as Logan let out a soft click of his tongue as a reprimand. As he lowered his hand, he absent-mindedly wondered if Logan was even aware that he had made the sound. Either way, Virgil found it incredibly sweet. “I’ll probably just sleep on the floor. My pillow is dry.”

Virgil made a show of picking up his pillow and feeling around for a dry blanket so that he could make a temporary bed on the floor, however, he was quickly interrupted.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Logan scolded lightly, “You can sleep in my bed. I will be up for a significant while longer doing work, it is no problem at all.”

Everything was falling into place for Virgil and he had to resist the urge to steeple his fingers together like a Bond villain. But his work was not finished, there was still one more task- Get Logan In The Bed.

“Dude no!” He exclaimed, “I’m not taking your bed! You’ve gotta sleep at some point!”

“Virgil,” Logan sighed, “I have a lot of work to do that I need to get done soon. I was actually planning to get up and pour myself some more coffee.”

Shit. If Logan got caffeine into his system, it was game over. His plan would fail and he would just be in Logan’s bed, and while that wouldn’t be the worst thing, it was not the plan. Panicking, he blurted out a quick “No!”

“No?” Logan said with a raised eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

‘Now or never’ Virgil thought to himself, before delivering the line that had inspired the whole plot.

“I wouldn’t feel okay with taking your bed, just in case you decided to sleep. Could we just share for the night?”

Logan looked puzzled, “I suppose, but I have already told you that I am not necessarily planning on sleeping tonight.”

“I know but.. I would feel bad.” Virgil said, his anxiety rising now that he was this far into the plan and there was truly no turning back. “Could you just… Would you just lay down for a minute? It would make me feel better.”

Judging by Logan’s expression, Virgil was convinced that he had lost Logan. His plan had failed and he felt a burn of shame in his chest, clenching his eyes shut. God he was so stupid! He should have just refused the offer to take Logan’s bed and slept on the floor! He should have not even tried this stupid plan! Virgil had not noticed his breathing picking up and his fingernails burying themselves into his palms as his thoughts spiraled into a pit of anxiety. He had not noticed until Logan’s voice washed over him.

“Virgil?” He said, somehow both softly and with authority. “Name five things you can see.” Virgil pried his eyes open, not really remembering when he had closed them. “Bed. Computer. Shoes. Water bottle. Posters.”

Logan nodded his head, with a small smile. “You are doing very well. Now four things you can touch.”

“Uhhh…” Virgil hesitated, eyes darting to Logan, “Sheets. Pants. My hair. Wet blanket.”

“Good job. Three things that you can hear now.” 

“Your voice. The air conditioner. Our obnoxious neighbors.” His breathing had started to slow and he could feel his body relaxing.

“Two things you can smell, you’re almost there.”

“Capri sun from my sheets and your disgusting coffee.”

“Last thing, one thing you can taste.” 

“Toothpaste.” With his breathing regulated and feeling calmer, Virgil smiled wryly back at Logan. “I’m sorry. That was… sudden.”

“You are perfectly fine. I have reassured you multiple times that I do not mind helping you.” Logan said soothingly. “Why don’t we go lay down? You are typically quite tired after these events.”

“Yeah… that sounds good.” Virgil said as he stood to move to Logan’s bed, straightening his sleep pants and he went. “Do… are you going to lay down too?”

Logan hummed, walking to his laptop to shut the lid, as well as flipping the main lights in the room off.  “Yes I suppose that I can for a moment. Just to assure you that I do not mind that you are in my bed.”

Virgil lifted the sheets of the bed and crawled under, scooting over so that he was next to the wall, leaving space for Logan to enter. “Alright. I promise I won’t keep you too long.”

“Well.” Logan said as he joined Virgil under the sheets, “I, in all honesty, could use the sleep.”

Virgil smiled at Logan with a soft “Good night then.”

“Good night Virgil.” Logan whispered, reaching up to turn off the light next to his bed, plunging them both into darkness.

The next time Virgil opened his eyes, the sun was shining through the window of the room and his head was resting on Logan’s shoulder. One of Logan’s strong arms was wrapped across Virgil and Virgil could hear Logan’s soft breathing against his ear.

Slowly reaching into his pocket so as to not disturb Logan, Virgil pulled out his cellphone, which was at 9%, and quickly snapped a picture before sending it to Remy with a simple caption.

“Mission accomplished.”

 (And that is the end! Feedback is very appreciated!)

[that1girloverthere]

Teaching the Stiff 

*warning* contains LOTS of smut

"Okay so what do you want to do?" He asks, eyes meeting mine in the hazy light of the sunset. His curtains open to the otherwise dark room, his fourth floor view one to envy.

A nervous laugh falls from my lips, my eyes falling to his bare chest. "I don't know, I've never done anything like this before."

"Well that much is obvious," he smirks. As I start to snap back at him his hand finds it's way to my hip, pulling me forward onto his lap. The satin fabric of his sheets brush my skin through the rips in my jeans.

"How do you feel about this?" He asks me, his voice lowered now that I'm pressed against him. My legs find their place on either side of his, my hands dangle at my sides.

Through a shaky breath I reply, "I like it."

He nods, that smirk still on his lips. "You can touch me, you know?" I stare down at my floating hands, then his chest. I let them find their way to his body, the tips of my fingers entwining in his patch of chest hair, the skin underneath is warm.

"That's better." He replies.

"Tell me what to do." My hands shake slightly as I speak, needing some kind of instruction.

"Ah, ah, ah. This was your idea, remember? You get to make the calls here."

My breath shakes in my chest, my eyes stuck on the thick black blocks of tattoo that rise up his neck.

"Okay." I get out, the word rushed and in no way as confident as I would like it to sound.

My hand moves with a mind of its own, my fingertips brushing over the slight scruff that decorates his jaw. I let my eyes meet his and I'm granted a wave of heat over my body at the look he gives me. His pupils have overtaken the normally stark grey irises, leaving him to stare at me like a predator does to prey. My fingers' movements pause; concern briefly flashes across his features.

"You good?"

God, even his voice has become darker.

"Yeah, yeah..." I wobble through the sentence. "Well, no." His hands leave my waist with the release of that single word, making a cold chill run up my back at the loss of warmth.

"Wait," I use my hands to guide his back to their original place, making eye contact yet again. "I still want to do this, I just really need some instruction here."

The cocky grin on his face nearly makes me lose it as he speaks, "Alright, but tell me to stop if it gets too much for you."

Before I can reply his lips are connected to mine, all brain process lost to his movements. His hands run over my hips, one settling in my back pocket, the other at my waistline. A gentle push has me meeting his lap fully, making my hips buck instinctively.

A sigh comes from his lips and my cheeks are set aflame.

He bites my bottom lip lightly, making me gasp and granting him full access to my mouth. His tongue is warm as it slides around my mouth making me pout when he pulls away.

"Why did you-" I'm cut off when his lips touch my neck. They work their way down, gently nipping and licking as he goes.

Goosebumps follow the path his hands make beneath my shirt, getting closer and closer to my peaked nipples all while his lips never leave my neck and jaw. He cups me in his palm, a finger passing over the bud, making me moan.

"No bra, huh?" He taunts, his voice husky.

"Shut up." I manage to gasp out.

His hands continue along their path, his thumb continuing to tease me. My head tilts back and my eyes shut slightly, my breath coming out in sighs.

Before I know what I'm doing I push myself against him, rocking back and forth, searching for any kind of friction.

He groans and my stomach flips.

His fingers grasp the bottom of my shirt, "Off." I let him take it over my head, arms raised.

For a moment he sits there, staring at me and I can't help but feel the urge to cover up, my hands leaving his body to shield myself from his view.

He shakes his head, "Don't, you look good."

Placing my hands back on his chest for me, he leans in slowly, letting his lips gently glide over my neck. He makes his way down to my breasts, nipping and sucking at the raised flesh. A moan escapes me at his ministrations. My back arches in response.

Before I realize what's happening i'm being flipped onto my back, Eric laying over me.

His eyes lock on mine for a moment and the sheer lust in the stare almost breaks me. His lips trail down my body, occasionally biting at the sensitive skin, only to run a soothing tongue over the area before continuing.

My hands grip the sheets above my head, holding me to reality.

"Lift your legs up," his voice is so gravelly it shocks me but I do as he says, my hips rising as the jeans I didn't even realize were unbuttoned are slid from my body. I lay there, naked besides the small piece of fabric I somehow call underwear. His gaze makes me miss the feeling of his lips on my breasts.

"What are you waiting for?" I mean to taunt, the infliction is all off however thanks to a new rasp in my voice I've never heard before.

He lets out a small chuckle. "Easy there, Stiff or I might start to think you're a Dauntless."

I raise myself onto my elbows, staring forward to the man seated between my legs.

"I am Dauntless." I say but it doesn't seem to convince him.

He raises his eyebrows as if referencing the clear "Stiff" behavior I had moments before. How this entire time I've yet to do more than lay there and moan.

Fine, two can play at that game.

I fully stand from the bed, and turn to face him. Trying my best to ignore my nakedness, I come close to his face, placing hands on his shoulders.

"Lay down." I command, not sure how I manage to pull off the air of confidence.

He seems surprised but does as I say, moving further onto the bed, his head resting at the headboard.

I trail my hands down his body, starting at his neck. Leaning forward I let my tongue follow the path my hand takes, tracing over his skin.

A sigh vaguely resembling my name comes from his lips and it only spurs me on.

His skin tastes slightly salty and I can't get enough. Without thinking I let my hand travel past his navel, my fingers sweeping over his waistband. I run my nails gently over the exposed skin, making his hips buck. I smirk in satisfaction.

"Quit playing." He groans, eyes set intensely on mine.

"Be patient." I retort, not giving him time to snap at me again as I let my hand fully dip beneath his sweatpants and boxers. The skin I'm met with is softer than any other on his body and I can't stop myself from gliding my fingertips over it multiple times.

I wrap my hand around his length, new to the experience but trying to remember the advice I was given by my friends through the years. Twisting my wrist slightly with each rise and fall, I sit in awe at the sounds that come from Eric's mouth.

Just as I feel his body tensing beneath my hand, I let go. Attempting to make quick work, I move to pull off his remaining clothing but find it impossible with a his unrelenting weight bearing down on one side of it.

I give him a look at my predicament and he moves to rise from the bed, playfully pinching my exposed nipple in the process. He chuckles at my uncontrollable moan.

I watch as he stands in front of me, finding myself on my knees before him, a faint scratch of fabric against my shins. His eyes stare down at me as he slowly removes his last articles of clothing, his entire being nude for me to observe. Its impressive, though I'd be damned before I admit that to him.

"Well?" He taunts, seeing as though I'm at a loss for words.

His cock stands at attention directly in front of my face, larger than I ever realized it was. Gripping him in my hand again, I take my time deciding to taste him. My tongue darting out to lick from his base to the tip, letting my entire mouth encircle him when I reach the end.

His hips buck slightly, a hand coming down to grip the back of my head, tangling in my hair. A moan escapes him and it shoots right to my core, burning me up.

Just as I'm about to take him fully, he pulls my head away from him, a pop sounding at the release of my lips from him. Faster than I though was possible, I'm being pushed onto my back, hands tearing at my last scrap of clothing, my underwear being thrown off to the side.

"My turn," he practically growls. I stare at him, body practically pulsating with need and lust. His callused hands grips my knees, making my legs bend and then spread, exposing myself to him fully. He gives my body a long, hungered look before leaning down. He starts at my thighs, kissing and biting them to the point that I feel like I could combust.

"Quit playing," I say, a mirror to what he said moments ago. I feel more than see his smirk as he at last stops the assault, and begins a new one. When his tongue touches me my eyes roll into the back of my head, a moan that just might be his name rasping out of me. In all my years I never knew it could feel this good.

He goes to work on me, lips sucking at my clit, tongue flicking against it. My back arches and my hands search for something, anything, to grab on to. One finds its way into his hair, the other the sheets beneath us.

"Fuck Eric, don't stop," I gasp. My body starts to tense and I know what's coming.

Eric seems to too, as he replaces his mouth with his hand, moving against me in ways I know I'll crave for the rest of my life. His eyes meet mine while he sucks on the skin around my sensitive area. I can barely see him through the building haze.

"That's it," he says, voice deep and powerful, the voice of a leader. "Cum for me like a good girl."

And with that, I do.

My vision falters and if I didn't know any better I would dare to say I passed out for a moment. My legs shake in satisfaction and I can't help but stare in awe at the man that is still between my legs.

"Come here," I nearly growl. With a hand on his jaw I taste myself on his lips, letting my fingers drift around his torso. He groans as I reach the deep V his muscles make at his waist.

"Are you sure about this?" He asks, hand reaching back down to rub against my folds, making my hips buck uncontrollably.

I'm nodding long before I can gather enough breath to answer.

"Yes," I plead. "Please, Eric."

He kisses me again, softer than before, but still with a hunger I didn't think was possible. I feel him shift against me and where his fingers - and mouth - were moments earlier the pressure of his head rests. A hand holding himself, I watch as he guides his dick to rub my clit. A similar heat builds inside of me again and I let out a sigh.

"You like that?" He questions.

I'm about to reply when his thumb replaces his member and I sense a deep pressure begin. With a gentleness I didn't know the feared leader could have, he enters me, leaving me feeling full beyond thought.

His hips begin to move, slow and deliberate, thumb moving in time.

"Oh, God." I gasp, hips pushing to meet his. A different kind of pleasure takes over and I fade in and out of reality for a moment.

"Such a dirt girl," He comments. He thrusts into me, hand reaching up to pinch my peaked nipple. "No wonder you left Abnegation. Imagine what they would think of you now, being a little slut for me."

My cheeks burn with his words but a sense of euphoria rushes through me at his degradation and praise.

He's mid movement when he flips us over, never disconnecting from me. I sit above him, his back fully against the bed, my knees digging into the sheets. He grips the back of my neck, pulling my hair slightly as he forces me down to his level, his eyes on mine.

"Now, ride me." He releases his grip on me, but quickly relocates it on my hips. I rise from my position, letting myself bounce on his cock, hearing the sounds our bodies make as they slaps together.

My hand drifts to his throat, simply resting there, feeling the fast pulse beneath the skin. I let my back arch, knowing full well that my breasts are directly over his face and feeling empowered by it.

My thrusts quickly get erratic and I can feel him begin to tense beneath me.

"I'm getting close," I practically moan, my legs shaking again. With that, his hand finds its way back to my clit, his callused fingers teasing the bundle of nerves.

"Let go," He says, out of breath. His skin glistens with sweat, his thighs twitching under me.

"Eric... Eric... fuck." I topple over the edge, shouting his name loud enough that all of Chicago can hear. My body becomes limp but he holds me up with his hands, grabbing at my ass as he thrusts into me with newfound speed.

I listen, dazed and over stimulated, as he groans and echoes my name back to me.

Slowly, he slips out of me, leaving me shivering and feeling empty. I lay on his chest, not having the bodily ability to move myself just yet.

"How was it?" He asks, wiping my sweat slicked hair from my face, kissing my forehead.

"Amazing."

[jenosuh]

fic recs and good authors part 2

so I’m not actually finished here but I guess I’ll just post this now and make a part 3 when some other fics come to mind, I’m sorry if I left out and triggers or warnings. sorry if I’ve tagged you before

tag list : @dimplehyunn

these are all in no particular order

love story by @dreamcities romeo!jaemin x fem!juliet!reader

summary: you hadn’t meant to fall in love at first sight with the handsome son of your family’s sworn enemy. but you did, and now you must decide if you’d risk it all for your star-crossed romance with him or go forth with your arranged marriage with another man.

something to sink my teeth into by @kiri-ah vampire!jaemin x human reader

summary: A trip to Poland goes terribly wrong - or maybe terribly right - when you're bitten and kidnapped by a vampire. Between passing out, almost dying multiple times, and falling in love, you have a lot on your plate. Oh, and the magic. Right.

someone to spend eternity with by @mochi-baby-xoxo part two to ‘something to sink my teeth into’ above ^

last deception by @jaemotel agent!jaemin x fem!mafia boss!reader

summary: na jaemin, one of the best agents is sent to hunt down his ex lover without getting his feelings involved. jaemin is not the one to get out of track but what happens when he meets the love of his life, one more time?

the one that got away by @dear-hao jaemin x reader

summary: a perfect couple who just couldn’t get timing right.  

wall talk by @dnylvu

summary: he’s the enemy, the one you’ve despised since the beginning of time. but he’s also the very man buried deep within you.

broken mirrors by @neovisioned jaehyun x reader

summary: Your college friends recall a creepy legend about a man that appears in mirrors and grants you two wishes when summoned. Jisung is dared to say his name three times and see what happens. At first you brush it off as some copy of bloody mary but, when your friend chickens out and swears something happened in that bathroom, you can’t deny the shift in atmosphere everyone felt. The urge to try it out mixed with fear pushes you over the edge. it’s probably fake anyways, right? You summon Jung Jaehyun in the middle of the night, on your bed, and he is not what you expected him to be. 

I like you….the other you by @pastelsicheng spiderman!jaemin x reader

summary: Even after drifting apart from your friend Jaemin 3 years ago, you still have a big fat cr*sh on him. You’ve convinced yourself that you’ll get over him someday, but maybe it’s better that you didn’t get over him after all because Jaemin has a big fat cr*sh on you too. All it takes is you telling him about your feelings and saying you like him. Well, telling the other him. Alternatively, in which you have a big fat cr*sh on Spider-man’s alter-ego and Spider-man has a big fat cr*sh on you.

smultronställe part 2 by @gohyuck surgeon!jaemin x reader

summary: in which jaemin’s both a superdad and a supersurgeon and you can’t help but fall for him

the one that got away by @haechanplsacceptmylove sungchan & fem!reader

warnings: pregnancy, death, blood (bro i love this fic so much but i hate it because i cried so much and i don’t think i can bring myself to read it again because I’ll get to emotional and hate myself, it’s super angsty and has character death so read it if you think you’ll be ok with those themes)

random really good jaemin fic recs list by @jaesayshi

cat and mouse by @tyonfs

summary: tired of meaningless hookups and dull parties, na jaemin had always been hesitant to indulge himself. that is, of course, until he met you. however, upon realizing you’re none other than jeong jaehyun’s little sister, jaemin has to keep his relationship with you under wraps to make sure his team captain doesn’t find out. 

just like the movies by @jensungf

summary: the kissing booth was a horrible movie, but somehow you still managed to get roped into watching the god-awful sequel, and the only reason you could blame was your stupid best friend by the name of lee donghyuck. oh, and the fact that you may or may not be whipped for him too.

that’s hot by @dreamcity-rawr pride!mark x reader

Summary: mark’s pride and ego start to get on your nerves so you decide to give him a piece of your mind, little did you know, you start become a piece always on his mind from then on  

i became attracted to seaweed by @choerrypuffs son of poseidon!donghyuck x daughter of athena!reader

enchanted also by @choerrypuffs prince!jungwoo x witch!reader

summary: the prince has always been a little unconventional, but no one ever expected him to fall in love with a witch.

serve you, help you by @00-baejin-05 butler!jaemin x reader x butler!jeno

summary: it's normal to have servants serve you, especially if you are royalty. however, you didn't expect two butlers to be given to you, intead of maids. you learned how to trust them and deepen your connection with him... but it's gotten way too deep. (I somehow remember reading this but I also somehow don’t??)

grit your f*ckin teeth by @henlojeno mark x reader

summary: dubbed the grim reaper, one half of the strongest in the devil’s league, you were a supernatural hybrid known for strong wings and green lighting; admired and feared by both humans and myths alike, right until the day you disappeared with no explanation. cue your reappearance four months later, it’s up to you to mend the ties you left hanging and reconcile with those you’ve left behind, all while still scrambling to save lives from a crumbling society.

the interview by @whereisten vampire!doyoung x journalist reader

summary: you’re a journalist that just booked her biggest gig, an interview with Doyoung, a vampire notorious for a series of murders in your city.

gilded gold by @mint-yooxgi yandere vampire print jaehyun x reader

sun&moon by @fleurminho jaehyun x reader

(um so the acc deactivated before I got to post it but the plot was really cute so I’ll keep this here even if the links don’t lead to anything. all I remember was a soulmate au with jaehyun where you go to his concert and meet him there </3)

authors:

@nakamotocore @shotarology @bluejaem @jenoismydad @tenseoyong @taemin-jaemin

[moonlitceleste]

marinette dupain-cheng’s guide to picking up cute guys

A/N: Chez Vous is real in the DC universe; it’s described as a restaurant but I decided to use it as the name of the café because I didn’t want to come up with one myself. It translates to “at your house,” which basically implies “make yourself at home.”

thanks to @ramos123 for being my beta reader! <3

ao3

“Bet.”

Marinette slapped a crisp 20-dollar bill onto the wooden table with enough force to slosh around the brown liquid in the cup sitting before Alya’s smirking face.

Chez Vous was the name of the café they had been sitting in for the past fifteen minutes. The place had a nice ambience, the quiet chatter of customers and aromatic smells combining to make what was an unusually cozy atmosphere considering the location.

Gotham wasn’t exactly known for being hospitable, but she supposed the fact that it was clearly fashioned after Parisian cafés contributed to the homey feel. It vaguely reminded her of her parents’ bakery as well, so it certainly lived up to its name.

Perhaps it was this sense of familiarity that had her and Alya reminiscing on how far they’d come. It hadn’t been that long since lycée or université—the two were only 22 and 23, respectively—but recalling the good times they’d shared was always fun to do.

Of course, their friendship had momentary blips (ahem, Lila), but the two had managed to sort out their problems eventually. Now that Alya had become more attuned to Marinette’s boundaries and there were no pressing superhero secrets to keep, they knew how to both ground and challenge each other in positive ways. Which was exactly what had caused Marinette to get herself into this situation.

While chattering about their lycée days, Alya poked fun at her once again for what had transpired on the day of the Animan akuma. How could she ever forget that while secretly masquerading as a superhero and locking her best friends in an empty gorilla habitat together, she had somehow helped them end up in a relationship? And now the two were engaged.

This topic somehow lead to Adrien and the stupid puns he spewed both in superhero and civilian form. Alya was insistent that Marinette was charmed by them at some point, to which she replied, No way! They were horrible. Even I could do better.

It was with twinkling eyes that her best friend asked “Bet?” and well, Marinette was never one to back down from a challenge. So after pulling out some spare cash from her purse and setting it down in front of Alya, she raised a brow.

A wicked smirk grew on her best friend’s face, and any lesser person would have faltered, but Marinette was prepared for anything that could possibly be thrown at her.

“Fine. If you’re so confident, I dare you to use a pick-up line on… him.”

As if on cue, the bell at the top of the glass-paneled wooden door jingled, and Marinette followed Alya’s pointed finger right on time to see a very attractive man walk through.

He had a confident stride, but not an arrogant one—his aura was one of someone who was assured and knew exactly what they were capable of.

Despite his seemingly laid-back disposition, she didn’t fail to notice how his eyes darted around the room cautiously, the same habit she had gotten used to doing after she had been given the Ladybug Miraculous. Then again, this was Gotham, so being on constant guard was only natural.

One thumb was hooked in the pocket of his jeans while the other moved up to ruffle his hair, and wow did he have nice hair.

It was perfectly coiffed, and if she didn’t have experience with hairstyling due to her career she would’ve thought it was as effortless as it looked. Most models would kill for the natural luster his locks seemed to have, and even from a distance she could tell that anyone who decided to run their fingers through his hair would be met with softness.

And she didn’t even want to get started on his face. From his glowing skin to his strong jaw and pretty eyes, she refused to believe someone so attractive could be real. It was unfair, really.

“...inette? Marinette? You good there, girl?”

A snap in front of her face broke Marinette out of her stupor, and she offered an instinctual yelp in response.

“What?”

Alya’s eyes twinkled knowingly, and Marinette shifted anxiously in her seat.

“You sure you weren’t checking him out?”

“Alya!”

Said girl let out a mischievous cackle at her hissed response.

“Now get over there!” she said, waving her hands around in a shooing motion.

Marinette glanced over to the line, where the man was no doubt giving the barista his order.

From what she could tell he was just about done, and she watched as he shuffled through his wallet to hand the barista a bill. But rather than proceed normally as most client-worker interactions would, his payment was met with wide eyes and flailing hands.

Marinette was much too far to discern what was being said, but from context clues she could deduct that he had just handed the barista quite a sizable amount. She had already guessed he was well-off from simply observing the quality of his clothes, but this was near confirmation.

It wasn’t as if status or wealth mattered much to her, but she did have a tendency to be wary of higher-class people due to past experiences with them. Being around them really wasn’t as pleasant as it seemed.

Her musing was interrupted when the man suddenly moved, relocating to the waiting line. There was her chance.

Marinette pushed herself out of her seat, steeling herself and lifting her chin high. This was no biggie. All she had to do was somehow convince this gorgeous man to give her his number by making a crappy pick-up line and a pun on the spot. It wasn’t anything she hadn’t done before, but this felt different, probably because it was a total stranger she was about to attempt it on.

She felt Alya’s gaze trailing after her with each step, and Marinette reminded herself that she absolutely had to succeed or she would never hear the end of it.

The closer she got, however, the more her confidence died. Apparently she had made a major miscalculation while gauging her probability of success, because she hadn’t accounted for the brain spasm she was currently having. Why, oh why did he have to be so cute?

Marinette had the sinking feeling that she was about to majorly embarrass herself, but she was determined to win. Screw embarrassment—she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng. All the trouble she had gotten into with Alix and Kim as kids had prepared her for this very moment. Nothing mattered besides victory.

So she sauntered up confidently, stopping right in front of her target.

“Hey, you must be Batman’s sidekick.”

“What?”

The man’s head snapped towards her, and Marinette didn’t fail to notice the subtle defensive stance he took. Years of hero experience had made her more perceptive towards these things—it was part of the job, after all. She filed the information away in the back of her mind, making a mental note to dissect all that later. Her priority was winning the bet—and oh, right, she still had to finish that pick-up line.

“...because you’re Robin my heart.”

The quip was accompanied by an uncharacteristically roguish smile, à la Chat Noir. She’d give herself a solid 10/10 points on delivery.

Her target seemed to agree with the verdict, because after a split second of shocked silence, he burst into full-bodied laughter.

The instantaneous shift in demeanor nearly caught her off-guard, but she was too occupied by the bright smile on his face and his melodic chuckle to notice. It was light and carefree, and she couldn’t help but crack a small smile as a result.

The only problem was that the laughter didn’t end, though, and she felt her face heat up more as the seconds ticked by.

Oh, Kwami.

Marinette buried her face into her hands with a soft groan, wishing the ground could just open up and swallow her whole.

She knew it wasn’t the greatest pick-up line ever, but she didn’t think her attempt warranted that much amusement.

The laugher ceased abruptly, and she peeked through her fingers in time to see the man quickly sober up.

“Sorry, I wasn’t laughing at you!”

A pause.

“Okay, not exactly. I just—wow, that was a great pick-up line.”

She slowly lowered her hands, though she kept her head down to peer at him through her lashes.

“Did it work?”

He chuckled and offered her a bright smile that made her blush like a high schooler with a massive crush.

“Yeah, you can tell your friend over there that you won your bet.”

If it was even possible, she turned redder.

“What? How…”

At the mention of Alya, Marinette sent a quick glance to their café table only to find that she was doing absolutely nothing to hide her rapt attention. She quickly caught on to the fact that they were looking her way and sent a very obvious thumbs-up and wink.

Oh, I am so going to kill her later!

But Marinette’s momentary vexation made way for embarrassment as the gravity of the situation hit her.

“I guess I wasn’t exactly subtle, huh?”

“Yeah,” the handsome stranger shrugged. “You probably could have been more discreet. But I liked it.”

“Okay, that’s the second time you’ve said that, but I have a hard time believing you. You can’t possibly tell me that you actually enjoy puns.”

“So I’m guessing I shouldn’t tell you that meeting you was a fortuitous aster?”

“Aster? As in the opposite of disaster?” she wrinkled her nose.

“You got it!”

Marinette rolled her eyes in exasperation, though the upwards tug at the corner of her lips betrayed her true feelings.

“Careful there, or you’ll be the one Robin my heart.”

She’d never admit to it, but she flushed a tiny bit before straightening up in realization. Hey, she was supposed to be the one doing the wooing here!

But before she could open her mouth to respond, her companion beat her to it.

“Since you’re stealing something so dear to me, I think it’s only fair that I get my thief’s name in exchange.”

He was clever, she had to admit.

“Marinette,” she proffered.

“Dick.”

She blinked in surprise at the seemingly random obscenity before it clicked.

“Oh, that’s your name!”

The words tumbled forward, and once she realized what she had said, Marinette tried to frantically backpedal. Her spilled apologies didn’t seem to be necessary, though, because that mesmerizing laugh came back.

“No, it’s fine, I get that a lot,” he breathed between chuckles.

She brightened immediately, glad she hadn’t offended him or embarrassed herself too much.

“Well, since I’m already taking something from you, may I steal your number as well?”

“Only if I can do the same.”

Her inquiry was met with a grin, and the two exchanged phones to type in their respective numbers. Marinette’s found its way back into her hand shortly after, and moments after she pocketed it the call of “medium espresso and beignets!” broke the quiet ambience.

“Well, that’s my order,” Dick said, words weighted by a silent apology. “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a few things I need to take care of. Maybe we can meet up later this week?”

The end of his sentence lilted up in hope, and Marinette found her chest warming with affection.

“I’d like that.”

She bid him goodbye with a smile and a wave and quickly tacked on an “I’ll text you later!” in afterthought.

She’d forever deny squealing giddily as she unceremoniously dragged Alya out from her seat and through the café doors, but the sound didn’t escape Dick’s attention—or his enhanced hearing, courtesy of Bat-Tech.

As he watched her leave with Alya, a smile slowly spread across his face at the thought of seeing her again.

Yeah, he sighed to himself. She’s definitely Robin my heart.

-

PERMANENT TAGLIST *@astoriaandromeda @avengerthewarrior *@bluesimani @enternalempires @flower-girll @freesportspalacesalad @glastwime859 @h1sss @heart-charming @iloontjeboontje @jayjayspixiepop @jalaluvsu @kitsunebell @maskedpainter @moongoddesskiana @nathleigh @no-username2544 @too0bsessedformyowngood @ultimatetornshipper

[crumbledcastle28]

Chapter 6: A Jedi

Warnings: traumaaaa, lots of anxiety, like lots of anxiety, the reader really hates herself in this one, minor minor violence, references to violence, mostly just anxiety and hate.

Author’s Note: This is where the series starts to pick up, so I executed it as best as I could! I also went a little off canon with this one, so I hope it makes sense with the story. Thank you for any support!

Your journey to Sorgan was pretty smooth… but Mando was tense.

You tried your best to reassure him multiple times that this was the best choice for the kid and that you could help him with any challenge thrown at him, but he would just respond with a sigh and a solemn nod. So, you decided not to push it.

He had done even riskier missions on his own, so he can handle this one.

Once you arrived, you walked into the common house and met a woman named Cara Dune.

She introduced herself to you and she seemed very friendly, but when Mando mentioned that she was an ex shock trooper for the Republic, that is when you tensed up.

You had done things in your past that you knew would offend her. Not even offend her, but provoke her to strangle you alive. The fact that she was from Alderaan made it obvious enough that the Empire had hurt her deeply.

The only way to protect yourself was to hide who you really were, and your heart sank.

You felt like you had finally broken away from that way of life. The hiding, the anxiety, the fear. You felt like you could be yourself with Mando and the kid and not have to worry about that anymore. But the galaxy was cruel like that.

After the brief introduction, Mando proceeded to outline the plan and everything that the man on the recording (who you later found out to go by the name Greef Karga) had said, and Cara looked far from impressed.

“I don’t know, I’ve been advised to lay low,” she said, “If anyone identifies me, I’ll rot in a cell for the rest of my life.”

That makes two of us, you think.

“I thought you were a veteran,” Mando mumbled.

“I’ve been a lot of things,” Cara replied. “If I so much as book a passage on a ship registered to the New Republic-”

“I have a ship,” Mando replied, “I can bring you there and back with a handsome reward. You can live free of worry.”

“I’m already free of worry,” she said, “and I’m not in the mood to play soldier anymore. Especially fighting a local warlord.”

“He’s not a local warlord,” Mando replied, “He’s Imperial.”

You could see how Cara visibly tensed up at the word “Imperial.” If you weren’t scared of her before, you sure as hell were now.

“I’m in,” she responded, and you smiled at her.

She grinned back to you and asked, “Where do you fit in in this plan?”

You looked at the child in your arms and said, “My job is to keep the child safe. So I will protect him until he is used as the bait, and I will adapt to where he goes from there.”

“She can defend herself plenty,” Mando says, and Cara nods at you.

“I believe you,” she says, and you give her another smile.

I really hope I don’t let her down, you think.

~~*~~

Within the next hour, the four of you had arrived back at the Razor Crest.

Mando started the ship on track to Nevarro while Cara took a look at the weapon arsenal.

You watched as her eyes scanned over the array of options, and you couldn’t help but feel deep sorrow for her.

Her life was torn apart by the Empire, and now she was getting thrown right back into a fight. The fact that she wasn’t even going to join the mission before Mando mentioned that the client was Imperial made you nervous. She was not a woman you wanted to mess with, so you hoped and prayed you would stay on her good side.

The kid had somehow managed to make it to the controls and grab hold of the throttle, which made the ship veer abruptly side to side.

You ran to the child and lifted him away from the throttle while Mando stabilized the ship.

“Are you sure one set of hands is enough to watch that little beast? Worst case scenario, we made need y/n to fight with us. Maybe an extra set of hands could help,” Cara said, trying to catch her breath from running all around the ship.

Mando looked back at you and you nodded.

“She’s right. I can watch the kid as long as you need, but if you guys need me in a fight I can’t keep him with me. He could get hurt.”

Mando nodded and sat back down in the pilot’s chair.

“Looks like we are making a pit stop,” he said.

~~*~~

The Razor Crest landed on the property of a man named Kuiil. Mando said that he had helped him greatly in the past and he trusted him, and if Mando trusted somebody, you did too.

He greeted you with open arms and was incredibly nice. He led the four of you inside his humble home, and you never realized how long it had been since you stayed in an actual home.

Kuiil studied the child in your arms and said, “it hasn’t grown much.”

“What is your name,” he asked you.

“I am y/n. It is nice to meet you Kuiil,” you said and he nodded reverently to you.

“What about this one? Does she have a name,” he said, gesturing to Cara.

“This is Cara. She was a shock trooper,” Mando said.

“You were a dropper,” Kuiil said, and Cara nodded.

“Did you serve,” she asked.

“On the other side, I’m afraid. But I’m proud to say that I paid out my clan’s debt, and now I serve no one but myself,” Kuiil said.

The other side, you think. Kuiil served the Empire? And Mando had worked with him before?

You couldn’t deny the fact that this got your hopes up. Mando… working with the enemy.

If only he knew, you thought.

All of a sudden, the door behind Kuiil opened, and an IG droid stepped inside with a tray in his hands.

Mando immediately sprang to his feet and pointed his blaster at the droid. Cara joined him, and you blocked the pram the child was in with your whole body.

“Would anyone care for some tea,” the droid asked, and your eyebrows knit in confusion.

Weren’t these droids normally hunters?

“Please, lower your blasters. He will not harm you,” Kuiil said, obviously trying to diffuse the situation.

Mando, however, didn’t seem to want to go that route.

He kept his blaster pointed directly at the droid’s head and said, “That thing is programmed to kill the baby.”

You straightened your back at his words, blocking as much of the pram as you could, until Kuiil shook his head and said, “Not anymore.”

He then explained how he found the droid at a battle site and brought it back to his workshop. He decided to repair it, and then spent many days teaching the droid everything from scratch. It developed a personality, Kuiil mentioned, and it’s experiences helped the personality become unique to the droid.

“Is it still a hunter,” Mando asked.

“No, but it will protect,” he said, and Mando finally lowered his blaster.

There was no way Mando was going to let that robot anywhere near the child.

~~*~~

Later that night, you and Cara were sitting in Kuiil’s house while Mando was outside speaking with him, no doubt trying to convince him to protect the child.

“So what’s your story,” Cara asked, taking a sip of tea.

“Oh.. well… Mando picked me up on Tattooine. I worked there as a mechanic for a woman named Peli. It was a good job, but I wanted to get off that planet. I had lived there for a long time, and I wanted to explore the galaxy for once. It sounds cheesy, but I’ve always wanted to do that at some point. Mando agreed to take me with him on his missions in exchange for the child’s safety,” you say, and Cara nods.

“Nice. You made a living for yourself, and were brave enough to walk away when you knew the time was right. Most people never leave their home planet,” she says, and you nod.

“Yeah… I tried my best,” you say, and you try not to let your eyes darken. You didn’t like talking about your past. All it did was stir up old memories that you had worked to push down for years. You hated your past, and you didn’t know how well you could hide it much longer. Especially when you were being questioned by someone like Cara.

“The Empire… hurt me a lot. So, I am excited to hurt it back,” you say, and a big grin shows on Cara’s face.

She takes another sip of her tea, and looks up to find Mando walking through the door.

“Any luck,” she says to him, and he shakes his head no.

“Kuiil said that the droid can protect the child, but I don’t trust it,” he says and Cara chuckles.

“Yeah.. I think we got that,” Cara says and you smile.

Mando goes to sit down next to Cara, so she scoots over a bit to make some room for him.

You heard something hit the floor, and you realize Cara had knocked over your bag on accident. You had brought it into Kuiil’s house because you used it to store snacks for the child.

You stored other things in there too, and under no circumstance was anyone allowed to see them.

That was going pretty well, until Cara knocked the entire thing over.

“Whoops. Sorry,” she says and goes to start putting the items back in.

Your body is frozen in place and you feel like your lungs are being squeezed. Your limbs have turned to putty, and you cannot take your eyes off her hands.

If she sees it, I and dead. I am so dead

“It’s- It’s ok Cara. I’ve got it,” you say and start to stand up.

“No no it’s ok, I can-” she says, before her eyes widen.

She picks up an item and starts raising it to eye level, and you are just about ready to vomit.

Your saber.

You feel like your entire body is crumbling before her and she can’t even tell. Your breathing has become almost erratic and the sweat on your forehead starts to drip down to your eyes.

This whole experience, this whole journey with Mando and the kid could be completely undone right now. Everything you have hidden, everything you’ve buried, and everything you hoped you left behind on sandy Tattooine is staring you right in the face.

And Cara is….smiling?

“No way,” she yells excitedly, before laughing and smiling at you. 

“No wonder you were so secretive about your past! You’re a Jedi,” she says.

You take a glance at Mando, who is staring at the saber, looking confused as ever.

Ok, maybe this is good, you think to yourself, trying to relax.

I can pretend I was a Jedi. Sure. I have basically the same training as them.

But who were you kidding. You knew that wasn’t going to cut it.

“A Jedi?” Mando says, and Cara goes into a whole tangent about how amazing the Jedi were. How they fought the Empire till their dying breaths and defended the galaxy. They had been betrayed by their own clone groups, and most of them died in Order 66.

“But you didn’t!” she said and smiled at you.

You managed a smile back, but you had to have looked like a psycho. You were in so much physical and emotional pain from the amount of anxiety flowing through you. You had felt out of control before, but this was more dangerous than you knew.

You were such an idiot getting your hopes up. Thinking that a Mandalorian actually cared for someone like you. How could you have been so stupid.

“Even the colors of the sabers are legendary,” Cara said. “Aren’t they y/n?”

You nod back, but you know what’s coming.

Your truth was about to shine throughout the entire house, reflecting back at you like some sick joke. And you were screwed. You were so screwed.

“Well, let’s see it then,” Cara said and ignited the saber with both hands wrapped around the handle.

“Wait” you scream, but it was too late.

The tears hit your eyes before she even ignited the weapon.

The deep, burning red saber was ignited, and there was no going back.

It’s burning, fire like glow illuminated Cara’s face, and a sunset like tint was shining on Mando’s armor.

He always looked so beautiful when light would reflect off of him, but not like this.

The red from the saber was vibrant, but you had never seen a glow as red as the anger in Cara’s eyes.

She knew what this color meant, and your identity was revealed in all its glory.

A Sith

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @bookloverfilmoholic @farfromjustordinary

[aminiatureworld]

Stranger

Characters: Kaeya, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,398

Warnings: Angst (happy ending)

Premise: What do you do when the one you love turns into a stranger? Do you go chasing after them? Or do you let despair envelop you? What about when you can no longer trust them, or when they can no longer trust you.

In which Kaeya begins to act distant and strange.

Author’s Note: A little more dialogue heavy than usual for me, but considering I usually write like five lines of dialogue maybe it’s not that much. Still, I like how this one came out! I actually think I managed to make it pretty emotional (though it’s alright at the end I promise). Enjoy!

Kaeya

You weren’t sure when it started. It was so gradual at first, the withdrawing, the loss of trust. So gradual that you weren’t really aware you had lost Kaeya until he was already gone.

The first night that you finally started to become aware of the problem was the night that Kaeya came home, home late and dead drunk. Though you knew that he probably going to be working late, he had told you as much, you certainly had not expected him to come home in this state.

“My love? Oh, let me help you inside,” you exclaimed, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“I, I can do this myself,” Kaeya’s voice was gruff, cold, unlike the sweet, warm-talking man you’d fallen in love with.

“Please, you’re drunk. Let me get you something.”

“I don’t need you to.”

He’d flung you off somehow, though not without running into a wall. You probably should have helped him after that, insisted that he needed someone to sober him up; but all you could do was just stand there. Kaeya had never been like this before, not even on the rare occasions he managed to make himself drunk. He was emotional, yes, but usually that resulted in sweet, if slightly slurred words, and the inexplicable need to pull you onto his lap, no matter what you were doing at the time. This drunken Kaeya was a stranger to you. You didn’t know what to do.

A part of you hoped that it was a fluke, that he would wake up tomorrow smiling and apologetic and just as before. Yet he was gone before the sun was up, with no word on when he might be coming back. You had stared at his empty spot on the bed for a long time, trying to convince yourself that this was just a dream. You would wake up soon enough, nestled into his embrace, his breath soft and comforting in your ear. This was just a dream, it wouldn’t last.

No matter how much you tried to convince yourself of that though, Kaeya refused to cooperate. He continued to get up early, to come in late. You two almost never worked together, but even when you used the excuse of getting a book out of a library there was no Kaeya in sight. His office was closed, and when you tried the handle you realized it was locked. You knew that could just mean that he was out doing some sort of thing, but still it hurt. Even if you couldn’t truly explain why; it was the small things.

Then it wasn’t the small things anymore, for indeed nothing could be small about the way Kaeya was acting now. If the waking up late and getting up early had torn at you, this was the final straw.

He hadn’t come home, he hadn’t come home, he hadn’t come home. You sat in the living room of your apartment, hands curled around a long cold cup of tea. You didn’t know what to do, what you wanted to do. You wanted to run out into the night, screaming his name; you wanted to leave this apartment, a note on the counter explaining this was too much; you wanted to do so much, but instead you simply sat there, drowning in thoughts. Was he sick of you? Did he hate you? No, surely Kaeya would never do something so stupid if he’d fallen out of love with you. He would tell you, straightforward and gentlemanly. Wouldn’t he? You couldn’t answer that question anymore, the Kaeya you knew and the Kaeya you’d been dealing with for the past week were complete strangers.

You must’ve fallen asleep, for there was sun in your eyes when you opened them, your memory muddled with the odd fragments and colors of unsettled dreams. Looking around your heart sank at the emptiness, the lack of shoes at the doorway, the cloak still missing from the hook in the wall. He was gone. He was gone, and with him went the last hope that there might still be a normal explanation for everything. There surely couldn’t be now.

There would be time to explain your absence at work later. For now you got up, slinging your cloak over your shoulders, for the memory of winter still clung to the new spring air, and your ears still felt a little frosty. Now you barely felt the world around you, as you ran out of the gates of Mondstadt, trying desperately to think of where Kaeya might go.

Luckily for you the Cavalry Captain had a distinct elemental footprint, and whatever the time Kaeya had left to set out on his own it wasn’t too late for you to find him. You didn’t think about what would happen when you finally caught up with him. You didn’t want to. For now all you wanted to know was whether or not he was alright. The fact that he could take care of himself didn’t convince you. Kaeya wasn’t acting normally.

You finally caught up to him in the Whispering Woods, only a little ways away from the ruined temple. Your first thought was that he looked terrible. Your second thought was that he had truly been out last night. Your third thought was that you didn’t want to be here.

“What are you doing?” Kaeya’s voice was gruff, tired.

“What am I doing here? What am I doing here? What are you doing here Kaeya? Why are you out here, roaming around like a madman, while I wait for you all night. All night! Don’t you know how worried I was? How, how upset! And now you act like, what? Like I’m some, unwelcome guest, some nuisance? I can’t stand it, I really truly can’t stand it! If you don’t want to be with me anymore then just tell me. Don’t avoid me, insult me, push me away. I can’t stand it Kaeya, I really… really…”

You were crying now, you couldn’t help yourself. You didn’t want to, it felt humiliating somehow. It wasn’t worth it to cry at this point, not now, not in front of him. But you couldn’t help it, it hurt, it really hurt.

“I, my darling, I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean you’re sorry? You don’t seem sorry.”

“I’m just tired. It’s been a long night. Please, I’m sorry.”

“I…” you weren’t sure what to say. You really weren’t sure what to say.

“I know you’re really upset with me, I understand, I’ve been treating you badly recently. But please, let me explain myself.”

You said nothing, unsure still what to say. Your gaze had long since migrated to the ground. You wanted to know, wanted to hear his explanation. You were angry, yes, you were oh so angry. But more than anything, you just wanted things to go back to normal. You wanted these days to disappear, so you might go back into the sun. But it still hurt, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to hear, wanted to forgive. If only you could turn back time, if only this had never happened.

“Would you like to hear?” Kaeya pressed. You’d have to reply eventually.

“Yes,” you whispered.

“Very well. Would you like to go home first?”

You nodded. Maybe by the time you got back to the city you’d be able to figure out whether you wanted to forgive or not.

You two walked home in silence. You still couldn’t look him in the face, couldn’t bring yourself to gaze at the man you still loved so deeply. The atmosphere in the apartment was equally strained, and as you sat down on the couch you pulled a blanket up to your neck. At least if things got too difficult you could bury your face in that.

“Ready?” Kaeya’s voice was gentle, the Kaeya that you knew from before. You didn’t know what to make of it.

“Yes,” you mumbled, not trusting yourself to say anymore.

“You know how I told you I was adopted by Diluc’s father, that I couldn’t remember where I came from? Well, that’s not true. The truth is I was fleeing, a refugee, my father and I. We were fleeing from Khaenri’ah, the city that rose too high and was thus destroyed by the gods.”

There was bitterness in Kaeya’s voice, you could hear it, even if you weren’t looking at him.

“So my father left me here, all the hopes and ambitions of a fallen people on my shoulder. Master Crepus took me in, treating me as more of a son than I deserved. My dear brother even liked me, in the beginning. Of course then my father, my new father, died. Perhaps he was cursed by the gods, taking in a traitor like myself. Perhaps it was simply bad luck. I’ll never know.

“I didn’t think it would matter at first, where I was from. I thought, as long as I don’t tell anyone all will be well. I can’t be punished for the crime of my birth if they didn’t know I committed it in the first place after all. But I was wrong, I was so wrong,” he barked out a shard of bitter laughter.

“The Abyss is coming back, the mages, the heralds, they’re all planning something. More than that, they’re doing it in the name of my home, my land. They’re carrying on the name of Khaenr’iah by committing every crime possible. At first I thought I had nothing to do with it, but I do. This is my curse, somehow or other it’ll always come back to me. And, being the gallant knight I am, or something like that, I decided it was my job to deal with it.

“I know I probably should’ve told you the reason for my sudden late nights, but I felt like, well, I’d gone too far by now. No one else knows my origin story, not the Acting Grand Master, not the Grand Master. Not Diluc, not my late adopted father. I felt like telling them all would be wrong, like telling you would be wrong. I love you so much. I don’t know if you believe it, but I really do. And I thought, well, I couldn’t do this to you.”

“So instead you hurt me in another way?” You couldn’t help the bitterness in your voice.

“I’m sorry,” Kaeya sighed, voice slightly desperate. “I really am. I can’t blame you if you don’t believe me of course, but it’s the truth. I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to see the pity in your eyes, I didn’t want to change to you. I thought, if I told you I would always be the pitiful man, your sad, tragic lover. I thought, I thought you’d never see me the same way again. Or maybe you wouldn’t even see me as that. Maybe you’d see me as a fugitive, a sinner, someone from a place destroyed by the divine. Maybe you’d be disgusted by me.”

“You trust me as little as that?” You finally lifted your eyes up from the blanket around you to look at Kaeya. His eye was glistening wetly, his cheeks slightly flushed, his mouth twisted into a sad sort of smile. “You trusted me so little as that Kaeya? Your lover? You can’t truly believe that I would act that way, could you?”

“No! Yes? I don’t know. I just, I kept thinking, maybe, maybe you’d see me for the worthless wretch I am. Or even worse, maybe you’d get involved. Maybe the gods would see fit to punish you, or something. Maybe something would happen to you and it’d be all my fault.”

“That’s pretty superstitious coming from the least pious man I know,” you pointed out. “Kaeya, I don’t know why you’ve been telling yourself all these things, but I promise they’re all lies. Whatever that dark part of your brain has been saying, it’s wrong. I’m not going to treat you differently, I’m not going to hate or pity you, and I’m not going to die. But you know what hurts? Not being trusted. That really, really hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Kaeya whispered.

You let words fall to the wayside for a moment. For now you wanted to do one thing. Letting the blanket fall onto the couch you crawled over to Kaeya. Wrapping your arms around his neck you leaned in to give him a kiss on the forehead. Tucking his bangs away from his face you gazed into his eye.

“I love you so much Kaeya, really. All of this wouldn’t hurt if I didn’t. I want to forgive you, maybe I already have. I can’t stay mad at you, it hurts too much. But I’ll forgive you on one condition, alright? That you trust in me from now on. That you don’t hurt me out of some sense of distrust. If you want to keep things private, I understand. I just don’t want those things to cause, cause what happened this last week. Alright?”

“Of course.” Kaeya’s answer was immediate.

“Then I forgive you.”

“Really? After I hurt you so badly?”

“It still hurts, you’re right. But I forgive you still.”

Kaeya let out something between a sigh and a laugh. Pulling you fully into his lap he covered your face with soft, fleeting kisses. You let him, relishing the contact, the reconnection of something you’d feared you’d lost forever.

“I’ll always love you. You’re the most beautiful, most precious thing in the world to me,” Kaeya murmured against your skin.

“You are to me too. I love you so much Kaeya, I always will.”

“How about we put all these words to practical use?”

You laughed at the mischievous tone in your lover’s voice, glad to hear the real Kaeya once more. For this was the real Kaeya, you were sure of it. Regardless of what he told himself, regardless of what the world or the gods or whomever thought. This was Kaeya, this was the real Kaeya. And you loved him so very much.

For the first time in days the cloud that had floated above your heart evaporated. And the next day, when you woke up once more enveloped in Kaeya’s warm embrace, you were sure it wouldn’t be returning for a long time.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 15 - Playing with Fire [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 3800

Summary: Good intentions can lead to bad consequences.

Your first night with Spencer was different than any other time with anyone else you had ever been with, and you were one hundred percent sure that he would have some scientific explanation for it, but for you, the reason behind that was very simple.

Even if you couldn’t even admit it to yourself yet.

But for the first time in a very long time, your nightmares left you alone. Your sleep wasn’t disturbed, not by anything unpleasant anyway and you were almost sure that the small movement beside you in bed followed by a soft kiss into your neck was a part of your dreams.

The fuzzy feeling spread through you as the haze of the sleep slowly withdrew from your body and you snuggled closer into the covers, not ready to leave the warmth yet but as soon as you turned and felt the empty spot next to you, you opened your eyes, frowning. You sat up in bed, rubbing at your eyes and grabbed the folded paper lying on the pillow beside yours.

Beatrice;

She is the sum of nature’s universe,

To her perfection all of beauty tends.

Dante.

You smiled and your eyes skimmed the next lines under the quote.

New case in Ohio, they called in the whole team.

You heaved a sigh, falling back to bed again, pulling the silk sheets over your head and letting out a groan. The sunshine that seemed to fill your veins had disappeared already, leaving its place to coldness and you kicked off the sheets to walk to the bathroom.

After taking a long hot shower, you got dressed and blow dried your hair, humming a song to yourself, the memory of last night flashing in your mind, sending a spark through your whole system. You turned off the blow drier, stealing a look at your phone to see whether Spencer had texted you yet but there was nothing, so you grabbed it and left the bathroom.

As soon as you stepped into the kitchen, a shriek left your lips, making your mother turn around.

“Y/N!”

“Jesus Christ mom!” you pressed a hand over your chest, “How many times do I have to tell you not to break into my apartment?”

“It’s not breaking in if I have a key.”

“That key is for emergencies,” you let out a breath, “There’s a copycat killer sending me flowers, remember? Now is not the time for surprises.”

She tilted her head, “Speaking of, I heard you let the security I fixed you go.”

“I’m not going to walk around with bodyguards,” you said as you approached the coffee maker, “There’s security at my office already, I can’t have it in my building too.”

“I’m worried about you.”

“As long as you don’t give me a heart attack, I think we will be fine,” you checked your wristwatch, “Damn it, I need to leave in five.”

“Well, I won’t take much of your time,” she said and put a file on the kitchen island, making you look up from the cup you were pouring your coffee into.

“What’s that?”

“I took the liberty of contacting Philip.”

“Your P.I?” you asked, “Why?”

“To look into your boyfriend of course.”

You blinked a couple of times and put the coffee cup down, “Mom, no.”

“Relax, I didn’t read it.”

“No,” you insisted, “No way. Throw that away.”

“Y/N, don’t you want to know if there’s anything in his past that might be—”

“I’m not going to dig into his past!” you interrupted her, your heartbeat getting faster, “Anything he wants to tell me, he can tell me himself, I’m not going to learn it from a freaking P.I file.”

She heaved a sigh, “You don’t know what he might be hiding from you.”

“He’s not hiding anything from me,” you said, “Also, I know his father isn’t a serial killer, which is more than I can say for myself. I’m the last person to judge someone for their past.”

“What your father has done has nothing to do with you,” she said, “I didn’t tell Philip to look into his parents sweetheart, just him.”

“Throw that away.”

She rolled her eyes, “Y/N.”

“I’m not going to read it,” you told her as you put your coffee down and grabbed your purse from the counter, “I gotta go, but lock the door behind you when you leave okay?”

“Y/N, we need to talk about this!”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you turned around to look at her, “Mom, for the first time in my life I actually feel—“ you paused for a moment, “He makes me happier than you could imagine, okay? I’m not going to betray his trust, not like that. Ever.”

She shot you a look and you walked out of the apartment, your phone already buzzing in your hand.

“Erica?” you greeted your assistant as you answered the phone, “I’m on my way.”

                                                           ***

You definitely had not imagined the next two days going like this.

For starters, you had thought you would get to wake up next to Spencer. That didn’t happen.

You had thought you would have a peaceful morning. That didn’t happen.

You had assumed Spencer would call you, at least text you sometime in these two days, but that didn’t happen either. Between meetings and clients and running from venues to pastry shops to flower shops, you kept checking your phone but there was nothing. Even after you had texted him good morning, it was radio silent.

You tried to convince yourself that it was because of his job. You were busy during the day yes, but he was dealing with actual serial killers and their victims, so it was more than normal that he couldn’t find….five seconds to text you.

Maybe.

On second day though, you were getting way too restless.

“Nothing?” Mina asked as she came back from the bathroom and you put your phone down, taking a sip of your rosé and averting your glances to the other people in the restaurant.

“No,” you murmured, “It’s—it’s fine.”

“Is it though?”

You clicked your tongue and pushed at your salad with your fork, “No,” you admitted, “It’s not fine.”

“Thought so.”

“It’s just that…” you heaved a sigh, “Maybe— I don’t know, maybe I misunderstood what this was?”

“Or maybe he’s an idiot.”

“He has an IQ of 187, Mina.”

“Doesn’t mean he’s not an idiot,” she pointed at you with her fork, “Listen, you know what kind of a job he has. Every second counts when you’re hunting down killers.”

“A text takes like five seconds to type,” you reminded her and bit inside your cheek, “What if—“

“No,” Mina said, “Whatever you’re thinking right now, that’s not what’s happening here. You just decided to date a guy who has the worst work hours, that’s it,” she tilted her head, “Speaking of, did mom seriously get Philip to look into him?”

“Oh my God yes!” you looked up at her, finally able to focus on something else, “Can you believe that?”

“Yes I can. I one hundred percent saw that coming,” she sipped her drink, “I didn’t think she would tell you though, not after what happened the last time.”

You frowned, but then a look of realization dawned on your face, “Right,” you said, “She did the same when you and Kenzie started dating. I almost forgot.”

“Kenzie broke up with me when she found out,” she reminded you, shaking her head, “It was the worst week of my life. I had to beg her to at least listen to me.”

“I mean I get that she was angry, but breaking up?”

“I don’t know how I would react if she did the same thing to me,” Mina stated, “I can’t blame her, not really. It was way out of line.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I didn’t read it.”

“You shouldn’t read it,” Mina said, “Did you get rid of it?”

“I told mom to throw it away as I was leaving,” you said, “I didn’t see it on the counter when I came back, so I guess she did throw it away. Or took it with her, I don’t know.”

“You do realize none of this would be happening if you didn’t walk around announcing you’re in love—”

Your eyes widened, “Mina!”

“What? Just because you didn’t tell him doesn’t mean it’s not crystal clear to the rest of us.”

“I didn’t announce anything!”

“You might as well have,” she said, “Now that you got laid, there’s no excuse to that behavior.”

“At least I’m not calling him my love,” you pointed out and Mina scrunched up her nose.

“Don’t remind me,” she murmured, “I don’t know what mom is thinking. Also, apparently, there’s this auction for charity and all of us are supposed to be there. You, me, Kenzie…. Do you want to guess who the sponsor is?”

“Mom’s boyfriend.”

“Mom’s boyfriend,” she repeated, clinking her glass with yours, “Trust me, that’s gonna be a disaster.”

For the rest of the day, Spencer made no contact with you, and it was becoming more nerve-wrecking than you had thought it would be. Every hour your mind came up with some theory that was even more ridiculous than the other.

You had started with the theory of that night before not being as good for him as it was for you and somehow reached the theory of him lying dead in a ditch because a serial killer had gotten to him. Your fingers were practically itching for you to call him but you managed to control yourself, pouring yourself a glass of whiskey and trying to focus on the emails your assistant had sent you.

But the buzz of your phone was more than enough to make you sit up straight and snatch your phone off the coffee table. You touched the screen, your eyes skimming the text.

Sorry I couldn’t call, the case was chaotic and we just landed. Can I drop by? I missed you.

You stared at the screen, trying to repress the fury bubbling inside of you but managed to reply with just one word.

Sure.

Two days of complete silence, and then I missed you.

Lovely.

You let out a breath, forcing yourself to focus on the screen of your laptop instead of the anger filling you, because if you didn’t calm yourself down you were pretty damn sure that tonight would end in a huge argument.

And you didn’t want that. You didn’t want to let yourself play that messed up pushing and pulling game with him, because you knew where that would end.

It took more than an hour and a couple of glasses of whiskey, but when you heard the knock on your door, you pushed the cashmere throw off of you and walked to the door to open it.

Damn it, even the sight of him at your door was more than enough to make you want to rush into his arms, but you managed to hold your ground, leaning sideways to the door to take a look at him. He looked like he hadn’t slept in these two days and he was clearly exhausted, if not physically then mentally. The thought tugged at your heartstrings and you pressed your lips together.

“Welcome back,” you managed to say, not moving an inch to kiss or hug him and of course that didn’t escape his notice. Even when he was tired, he knew exactly how to read you.

You opened the door wider and walked back into the living room, listening to him close the door behind him and follow you.

“Tough case?”

“Yeah- is everything okay?”

His question made you turn around to look at him and you crossed your arms, frowning slightly.

“Yeah.”

“Y/N.”

You shrugged your shoulders, “Hm?”

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said, “I guess I’m surprised to hear from you, that’s all.”

A look of realization flashed over his handsome face, “I wanted to call you,” he said quickly, “I really did, but as soon as we landed in Ohio they took us into the crime scene, and the whole night I tried to crack the case but it turned out the killer had already committed—“

“A text would’ve been fine,” you pointed out, rocking back and forth on the balls of your feet, “You didn’t get five seconds to yourself, professor?”

“Will you believe me if I say no?”

“No,” you stated, “Not really. It’s fine, I just misunderstood what this was,” you motioned at him,”It’s—like I said, it’s fine. I just didn’t know it before so I got confused, that’s all.”

“What did you misunderstand?” he asked you and you shrugged your shoulders again like a petulant child, keeping silent. He watched you, his brows furrowed as he tried to understand what was happening before he pulled back slightly.

“You thought—“ he started, his voice soft, “You thought I’d leave you like that?”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

Don’t fucking say—

“What do I care if you left?”

Anthony, -your ex you had broken up with months and months ago- had once told you that during the arguments, especially if you were mad at the person in front of you, it was like you were possessed by the devil himself.

“I have no idea what the fuck you want,” he had yelled at you, “I don’t think you know either.”

Now to think of it, you were beginning to agree with him about you being possessed because you knew it was illogical, you knew you were being petty and nonsense, and yet, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“You don’t care.” Spencer repeated, his aura changing completely, his tone calm and collected.

You supposed that was normal. You had already trespassed into his area of expertise voluntarily, and yes you could push and pull someone until they broke, but Spencer could play these mind games and come out on top no matter how much you tried to beat him at that.

The thought of him taking a peek into all these defenses you had spent years building was so intimidating that for a moment you felt almost naked and blinked a couple of times, your nose in the air.

Walking away when you were at your own goddamn apartment was a challenge but your pettiness knew no limits.

“You know what, I’m gonna take a shower, it’s really late.”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah listen, like I said, it’s fine. You missed me, you saw me and we’re clearly both very happy right now, so do you mind closing the door behind you when you leave?” you said, your voice cold as ice and took a step to walk past him but he grabbed your arm before you could do that, his grip firm but not painful.

“You know I can see through that, right?” his voice was low as your heart started pacing in your chest, the fire shooting through you despite anger, “Try to run away from it, lie to me all you want, but I’m not one of those clueless idiots around you. We both know you do care.”

It was as if there was an invisible electric wire crackling between your bodies, getting stronger and stronger with each second passing. Your eyes narrowed as you stood still for a moment, like a snake ready to strike, your mind going overdrive with where to attack him first.

“Then it’s a good thing one of us does,” you managed to say, your voice like a hiss, “Because we both know that you don’t.”

Something behind his eyes shifted but before you could even question what it was he had already pulled you into a kiss, his fingers buried into your hair while he walked you back until your back collided with the wall. You pushed his jacket off of him, not caring where it ended up and your fingers nimbly tried to get rid of his tie, a whine escaping from your lips when you had to break the kiss so that he could pull the oversized shirt you were wearing over your head. He pulled back for a moment, his fiery gaze focused on you and that was when you understood why he had stopped.

He was making sure he would remember this.

You pushed yourself off the wall, flinging yourself into his arms once again. It was nearly impossible to fight the urge of being closer to him, so you gave in as his hand tugged at the roots of your hair while both of you blindly tried to find the nearest flat surface, knocking over a vase and the floor lamp in process before he finally pushed you back to the couch. A squeal escaped from your lips when you landed on the soft cushions, but it soon turned into a moan when his body covered yours, his teeth grazing your neck.

“Well,” he murmured, his low voice in your ear giving you shivers, “Let’s test that theory then.”

                                                        ***

Of course he woke up before you. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he hadn’t slept at all but he looked better rested than when he first had got there, so you figured he at least got a couple of hours. He had put his pants and white button up on, but his tie and jacket were still scattered along the room. He was sitting by the edge of couch, his files all over the coffee table as his eyes darted between them and he dragged his fingertips over the papers, but when he felt you watching him, he turned his head to look at you, a smile pulling at his lips, mirroring yours.

“Good morning,” he said and your smile widened before he leaned in to kiss you.

“Hi,” you murmured as you reached out to touch his curls, “Why does your hair look prettier than mine in the morning?”

He chuckled against your lips, “You’re seeing things,” he said, stealing another kiss from you before pulling back, his thumb caressing over your cheekbone.

“What time is it?” you rasped out and he checked his wristwatch.

“7,” he said and you scrunched up your nose,

“How much time do you have?”

“Less than half an hour,” he sighed, “How much time do you have?”

“Perks of being the boss,” you wiggled your brows, “I don’t have any meetings before ten o’clock today.”

“Lucky.”

“Incredibly lucky,” you winked at him as you pecked him on the lips and grabbed your bra and underwear off the floor, painfully aware of his gaze on you sending fire underneath your cheeks. You got into your shirt, then narrowed your eyes at him.

“It’s rude to stare professor, where are your manners?” you asked, making him chuckle before he snapped his fingers as if he just thought of something.

“I almost forgot,” he said, pulling away to grab his satchel and he dug into it to pull out a small magnet, making you gasp and snatch it out of his hand.

“You remembered!” you said with a smile, “Don’t go anywhere, I’ll put it on the fridge. Coffee?”

He raised his brows and nodded his head, “Yes please.”

“I’m beginning to think I’m becoming a profiler,” you grinned at him and fixed your hair before jumping over the back of the couch. You had every intention to walk to the kitchen but you couldn’t help yourself as you leaned over to rest your chin on his shoulder and kissed his cheek, making him smile. He entwined his fingers with you, pressing his lips on the back of your hand, the warmth spreading from that spot through your whole body.

“Thank you,” you said softly and he turned his head to look at you,

“Of course, it’s nothing.”

“No, it’s… it’s not nothing.” You shook your head, “It makes me happy.”

The light in his eyes was so warm that you thought you would melt.

“Good, because I want—“ he swallowed thickly, “I need you to be happy.”

You nibbled on your lip before you stole a kiss from him,

“I am,” you murmured, not lying for the first time in your life. You rushed to the kitchen, putting the magnet on the fridge carefully before you turned the coffee machine on.

“So I was thinking,” you said, “About this 7 hour long conference.”

“You lost that bet, you have to attend it with me.”

“Ah no, I’m not trying to skip it,” you leaned on the kitchen island, “I just have a question.”

He looked over his shoulder, “Yeah?”

“There are bathrooms there right?”

“Of course.”

“And everyone will be pretty busy during and after the sessions?”

“Yeah because the Q and A sometimes goes longer than planned.”

“Great, so we can hook up in the bathroom?”

He blinked a couple of times, as if he couldn’t tell if you were joking.

“Come again?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “What? No one ever does anything fun in these conferences?”

“I don’t—“ he stammered, “They’re highly academic, so I don’t think… I don’t think anyone—um—”

“You okay there, professor?” you grinned, aware of your effect of your words “You’re telling me you keep attending these conferences and then you end up not hooking up with anyone?”

He shook his head, still confused and you winked at him.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything,” you said, “You’re going to be late if you just keep sitting there and gawking at me by the way, IQ of 187.”  

He tried to pull himself together, gathering his files as you turned around to get the cups out of the cabinet.

“For the record, I think people are having fun in a non-academic way in these things, you just don’t know it yet,” you said, pouring the coffee into the cups “In one of the conferences we had to attend during college, me and my friend got these flasks of whiskey, then we—“ you stopped talking when you turned around and saw him standing there, completely frozen as he skimmed the papers in one of his files.

“What?” you asked when his eyes snapped up to yours, but there was something behind his gaze, completely void of the affection you were used to seeing. He swallowed thickly, his jaw clenched and he threw the file onto the kitchen island, making you frown.

Then a shudder ran down your spine.

Your mom’s file on Spencer. The one she had told her P.I to prepare when she paid him to look into Spencer’s past. You had just assumed your mother threw it away when you couldn’t see it after you came home that day, but apparently you should’ve looked harder.

“Y/N,” his voice sounded way too distant, way too cold, “What the hell is this?”

Chapter 16

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding XIV

Part I - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -  Part XI - - - - Part XII - - - - Part XIII

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Plo Koon woke to find himself chained in a dark room.

Somewhere behind him he could hear steady dripping; it was uncertain if that was deliberate or not.

He strained to discern anything in the dim light, but the walls of his prison refused to form into anything recognizable.

Cautiously, the trapped Master cast his senses out, only to find them reflected back at odd angles. He decided to wait before attempting to push any further past what his captor wished him to see.

Time passed strangely, but sooner than expected there was the sound of a pressurized airlock opening and, distantly, a raging ocean.

The airlock cycled through its rotation and Obi-Wan Kenobi stepped out of the amorphous shadows looking...decidedly worse for the wear. 

Plo ached at the sight. His normally carefully maintained beard was a scraggly mess. His robes hung tattered and bloodied. Of particular concern was how dry he looked, skin cracked and bleeding for want of water. The figure standing before him with a dead-eyed glare resembled less an accomplished Jedi Master and more the wretched husk of one. 

“Who are you?”  Obi-Wan's shade hissed. The chains around the Kel Dooran tightened. 

Well, however he might view himself and others...at least he’s willing to fight to defend what remains? At the bare minimum he’s not acting intentionally self destructive...

“Good Morning, Obi-Wan. I am a Jedi Master and your friend. I have been attempting to reach you through your rather impressive shielding. I must say, you’ve done a remarkable job confining me in this mental construct, its been sometime since anyone has managed to get the best of me in this arena.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “Don’t try and flatter me, you barely fought back. You could easily have forced your way anywhere, but for some reason you let me corral you, presumably to try and gain my trust. Now answer my question. Your presence is very much light so I doubt you’re Sidious or...Vader. I could be wrong obviously, but i can’t see either of themselves putting this much effort into that sort of mask...just tell me who you are, and why you’re with them.”

“I am Master Plo Koon, a High Council Member, and I am not unknown to you” he elaborated without hesitation. “I am glad that you can identify that I am a light force user. Can you not sense familiarity within my force presence, even so far within your domain?”

Obi-Wan reared back and the dripping noise in the corner stopped.

“It’s a trick. We might be in my head but that doesn’t mean I’m surrendering any of my thoughts to you,” Obi-Wan snarled. “I felt Plo Koon’s death, he was one of the first...and even if he somehow survived he would never work with the Sith to invade my mind. Never.”

“Obi-Wan. Listen to me. Please. I am not dead. I am not working with the Sith. I was brought in to reach you because no other method was working. You are in the healing halls at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant.” Plo spoke calmly, but implacably, “We believe you have either experienced a uniquely detailed vision, or a run in with a dark-sider. Whatever has happened, I can feel the lingering impression of unsafety. But here and now, you are not in any immediate physical danger. There must be something I can do to convince you of your present physical location.”

“A uniquely detailed vision, huh? ha!” Obi-Wan replied, gesturing wildly. “Ha! You expect me to believe that what, the last four years of my life were a detailed prophecy? Why?”

“You...believe you have lived years beyond the rest of us. I take it the- what you remember has been dangerous enough to warrant maintaining abnormally tight control over your mental walls, precluding simply reaching out to ascertain the truth yourself.”

“Clearly my control wasn’t enough if you’re in here.” Obi-Wan muttered.

“I do apologize for the intrusion, but we’ve already used every other tool at our disposal to reach you. I repeat, is there anything that can be done to convince you that you are, from your perspective, ‘in the past’. You are a High Council member with a grandpadawan. It’s been two years since the start of the clone wars. You recently finished an extended clean up of the Mon Cala sector after your victory.”

Obi-Wan stared at him curiously. “If I set a test and you fail, will you agree to dispense with the pretenses?”

Plo-Koon hesitated. “Perhaps I’m making this deal in bad faith, as I am know I am Plo-Koon, and that everything I have said is the truth... but I swear that if you somehow prove that neither of those things are true and I am secretly working for a sith lord, I will...reveal that.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Best I’m going to get, I suppose.”

The chains holding Plo-Koon loosened. Before he could respond, there was a hurtling rising sensation that he struggled not to fight against. After a disorienting moment, he found himself in his own body, feeling vaguely seasick. Obi-Wan blinked awake, apparently unfazed by the precautionary bonds holding him in place. Master Aerdo’s gaze flicked between them intensely. Plo-Koon held up a clawed hand to forestall any interruption while the two gained their bearings.

Obi-Wan spoke first:

“Cihynglo’s Fourth Meditation”

“...What?” Koon replied, honestly confused.

“Cihynglo was a renowned Kashykian Jedi, her mediations are, well i suppose were considered a quintessential example of High Republic cosmic poetry.”

“I’m familiar with Cihynglo- my master used to speak of her fondly.” Plo Koon said slowly. “Though I can’t say I’m familiar with her Fourth Mediation.”

“Hmm. Yes, well her poetry in the last few decades of her life got increasingly, well, esoteric. While most of her work was widely translated and distributed, she requested that those who wished to read her fourth Meditations do so in person, so as to experience without dilution the full calligraphy and artwork that accompanied her words. She only ever produced two copies. Any guesses where they were kept?”

Obi-Wan’s voice started out in the steady tones of a born lecturer, only to grow bitter towards the end.

“Is one in the temple?” Master Koon asked.

“Yes, one was held in the Master’s wing of the temple archives. The other was housed in a place of honor in The White Forest’s Great Tree of Knowledge. Considering both libraries were reduced to ash in the first month of the Empire, it is quite impossible, even for the Emperor, to find a copy.” 

His vague attempt at a smirk quickly fell flat. 

“I was privileged enough to be granted time to begin reading it once, but, alas, an emergency situation in the intergalactic war you created meant that I had to run off mid-sonnet. Bring me that book, let me hold it, read it, and I will believe that I somehow unlocked the secret of time-travel while overdosing on Spice.” 

Obi-Wan paused, catching his breath. “In the next fifteen minutes, please. Any more than that and you might try tracking down the few surviving Wookie scholars.” Koon flipped open his comm. “Master Nu, I have an urgent request.”

“Nu here, go on,” came the response.

“This may sound strange, but it is crucial that Cihynglo’s Fourth Meditation be brought to the healing halls, room seven. Within the next 15 minutes.”

“You do understand you’re talking about a physical book, not a flimsi-stack or a holocron. It’s not meant to leave a climate-controlled room.”

“I promise you, I would not ask if it weren’t life or death. Please Jocasta, I’ll explain later.”

“I’ll be there in 10. It had better be one durned good explanation.”

Obi-Wan looked bemused. ”You’re setting yourself up for failure.”

“I am glad you were able to come up with a test you found meaningful. Remember, you have friends here, regardless of whether you experienced subjective time travel or an incredibly detailed vision.”

They waited a little longer. Obi-Wan critically examined Master Aerdo.

“I’m a Senior Soul Healer” they offered at the non-verbal prompting.

“How interesting.” Obi-Wan remarked dryly.

They sat in awkward silence for another minute. 

They were all equally trained in suppressing fidgets, coughs, or other nervous tics, which made the wait that slightest bit more unbearable, each second nearly imperceptible from the one before.

Eventually the sound of heavy boots moving at speed approached.

Master Nu strode in, gently cradling a great burden. The book gleamed large and vital in the light of its stasis wrap. Her eyes widened at they took in Obi-Wan, still cuffed to the bed. 

“Cihynglo’s Fourth Meditation, as asked for. I trust you have an excellent explanation for how a book of poetry is a matter of life or death.”

“I’m hoping that it will convince our friend Master Kenobi that I am who I claim to be and we are where I claim we are.” Koon gently pulled the book from her grasp and reverently placed it on Obi-Wan’s lap. Obi-Wan stared at it uncomprehendingly.

“Obi-Wan, I’m going to uncuff you now. I trust that you will use your freedom to examine our ‘proof.’ We will physically intercede if you make any attempts at self harm.”

Master Nu gasped. “Then the temple rumors...I don’t understand.”

Obi Wan picked up the book as if he was afraid it might bite him. With an irritated snort, he opened brusquely to the middle, and began carelessly flipping ahead.

Master Nu started forward, offended, but Plo Koon held her back. “Please Master Nu, patience-”

Finally Obi-Wan seemed to reach the page he was looking for and stopped. “..And still the rain fell like blood of the womb” he murmured. “That...I tried to think of how the line ended but I...”

Everyone watched as the book shook in Obi-Wan's grasp. He turned the page, gasping slightly and murmuring as he read. “This is...a little gross, but oddly touching. I certainly would not have come up with it myself...but its so clearly...” They watched his react, eyes darting wildly and brow furrowing in confusion.

Several pages later he dropped the book abruptly.

“This is impossible,” he gasped.

Nu darted forward, carefully snatching it from his lap, "I am endeavoring to practice tolerance, but how is destroying an irreplaceable piece of literature supposed to help anyone?!” she snapped

“I admit I wondered that myself, but when I imagined what harm the Sith could do with some of the archive’s more practical works, I understood your decision to torch the collection” Obi-Wan responded dreamily. “I suppose the more beautific works would likely have been destroyed anyway...”

“Torch the archives? I would never.”

“But you did,” Obi-Wan insisted feverishly. “I found your message when we searching for survivors. There were so many bodies piled at the archive door that I was almost hopeful that they had managed to...but I suppose they held out just long enough for you to complete your task.”

Nu backed away slowly. “That sounds like quite the disturbing vision, Master Kenobi.”

“It wasn’t just a vision, it was my life. It-visions don’t last years!” he said, finally growing hysterical. “I remember everything! That gods-awful mission to Cato Nemodia! Getting takeout food with Anakin! The smell of burning flesh in the creche! Singing to Luke! The last year of the war! All of you! You crying after Dooku��s death,” he added gesturing wildly at the archivist. “It was so awkward! You were embarrassed! You told me that for some stupid reason you had ‘held out hope’ it was all an insane uncover mission, that he wasn’t really- Three years alone in the desert! I remember three years of living on fucking Tatooine, how could that possibly be a vision!”

“I...hadn’t told anyone that,” Nu whispered with a hint of alarm. She glanced at Plo Koon, daring him to comment. “I know its very much unlikely at this point, and by any measure, he’s taken things too far, but he’s gone on such long shadow missions in the past...” she looked away.

“Oh, Jocasta...” Plo sighed.

“Master Kenobi. I cannot explain how you came to have such detailed knowledge of the future,” Aerdo said, drawing focus back to the bewildered Obi-Wan, who had shifted into a defensive crouch on the bed. “But I do know one reasonably sure fire way to establish that this, us, is the present. Open yourself up to the force, please, just let yourself listen to what it has to say.

“I...want to, of course I want to believe- but the idea that I’m here- it’s, if you’re real than you can’t possibly understand, its too good to be true.” Obi-Wan responded brokenly.

“I know things have been clouded of late, but, if nothing else trust in the force to not lie to you.” Plo-Koon urged. “If you keep closing yourself off like this, how can you possibly learn if things are better than you think”

Obi-Wan collapsed from his crouch, knees folding underneath.

“If I am...even if I am in the past... Sideous might be watching...i didn’t- i don’t know the extent of his gaze- even if...” he trailed off.

“If it makes you feel safer, you are of course free to again raise your shields to whatever extent you feel necessary once you have verified your reality.” Aerdo replied smoothly.

Obi-Wan looked warily at the three Jedi in the room.“I...” he started, trying to articulate the swelling hope and fear only to find himself at a loss for words.

Aerdo shot him a reassuring smile, “If you don’t feel ready right now, that’s perfectly understandable. We’re very happy you’re willing to reach out as much as you have already. Would you like to pause this discussion for now so we can find you something to eat? I believe a simple broth is a customary first post-bacta meal, but if you have any special requests I’ll do what I can.”

Obi-Wan let out a deep breath, dropping his head into his hands. “I- I need to know, don’t I?” he mumbled. “Force help me...you win.” He took one last, searching look at the faces of his fellow Jedi before closing his eyes and surrendering himself to the force.

He opened a small hole in his mental barricades and tentatively allowed his thoughts to drip out. Tentatively, he trickled over the bank of Plo Koon’s being (expecting a frigid burn) only to find a warm and heartbreakingly familiar pool of tempered kindness. 

He ran, slightly faster now, over the other Jedi presences in the room. Having finished his course without encountering any dark undertow, he ebbed back. There was an indistinct impression of something heavy giving way.

Obi-Wan’s Shields Fell Like A Dam Beneath a Tidal Wave -

[waatermelon-sugaar]

Take Care of Me

Pairing = Santiago x reader

Words = 5.5k

Summary = A discussion about sex toys turns into something more … concrete

Warnings = Swearing, talk/description of mild anxiety. SMUT (18+ only), use of handcuffs in a sexy way, oral, piv sex

A/N = Prompt no.8 requested by @itspdameronthings​ as part of my 300 follower celebration, thanks so much, hope you like it! Prompt was “Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself” w/santi and bolded in text. Also 3 things; 1 = Tom doesn’t exist in this AU, 2 = this is basically pure smut im so sorry, and 3 = I did do head hopping in this, which I know you’re not like supposed to do but also fuck the rules y’know?

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

It’s always easy to be loose after one of Benny’s fights.

It’s a heady mix of adrenaline, beer and testosterone, swirling together into a mix that makes you forget your normal boundaries. You’re normally quite brazen about your sex life anyway, but there is a line. You respect your partners, and there’s no need for your teammates to know too much.  

You’re all packed into a half-moon booth, Benny straddling a chair that he pulled up to the table after he spent too long chatting up the bartender.

It’s a small comment from Benny (because of course it’s Benny), saying that you haven’t got laid in a while, and you’re honestly surprised he noticed. But then, that’s the only predictable thing about Benny, that he is unpredictable.

Your surprise means you take a little too long actually thinking about it, which confirms Benny’s statement. You lean back a little in your seat, desperately ignoring Santi, who’s sat to your left. It also means you bite back a little harder in defence.

“Well maybe if you guys didn’t look like you’re about to murder anyone who even dares ask for my number maybe I’d have better luck.” That’s a lie, but there’s no way you’re going to tell them the truth. No way you’re going to tell Santi-

Your thoughts are interrupted by Will, sat to your right. “So you’re asking for our help?”

You scoff, hitting him up the head. “No, thank you.” Will knows why. Because of course he does. One of your oldest friends, he’d been the one who convinced you to join the team in the first place. “Despite what you think, I am completely capable of taking care of myself.”

You send a wink down to the table to Benny, who’s the first to catch on, hollering, and you try not to react to Santi leaning forward, suddenly interested, as though you’re not already hyper-aware of every body movement of his.

You continue, deciding you’re quite enjoying the effect you’ve had. “What do I need some stranger for when I can give myself a better orgasm than he could ever dream of?” You take a sip of your drink to hide your grin, as both Benny and Will holler, gaining a few glares from the pub’s other patrons.

That sip means you’re unprepared for Santi to lean in closer to you, his lips so close to your ear that you can feel his breath. “Maybe ‘stranger’ is where you’re going wrong.”

You swallow, unprepared for the sudden flare of attraction shooting through you and turning your head, just as he says, “I could take care of you.”

You catch a glimpse of Santi’s fuck me eyes when Benny (the dickhead) interrupts. Crossing his arms on the sticky table in front of him, he asks, “Does that mean you have toys?”

Frankie’s hat somehow tips lower on his head, if that’s possible.

Will twitches towards his brother, like he wants to strangle Benny for being so uncouth, but you put your hand on his upper arm. “Of course.” The best course of action is to just act like this is normal, so add a bit of air to your voice. This was normal. “Who doesn’t?”

There’s a blush rising on Benny’s cheeks and you can’t help but stoke it, grinning at him, and attempting your best bedroom eyes. He’s still not too ashamed to ask though. “What kinds?”

Will decides he’s had enough, glancing at Santi behind you with a frown and hitting Benny over the head in an imitation of the way you’d hit him. You laugh, unexpectedly pleased at the reaction you’ve gotten. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

Benny nods, eager, even as Will stands, grabbing a hold of him, and steering him towards the bar. “Yes! Yes I would!” He manages to throw back at you and you laugh again, twisting your body to face Santi and Frankie, bringing your left leg onto the bench.

***

Meanwhile Santiago is in hell. He’s been in multiple hellish situations before, most similar to this one, in that it was always the 5 of you, bullets flying around your heads, rifles in your arms, weighed down by heat and sweat and tac vests.

And yet somehow, he thinks this might be the worst. Your foot next to his thigh, your knee bent, pulling your jeans up your leg and exposing your ankle to him. Watching you flirt with Benny, talking about sex, and toys, and masturbation. When that's all he wants to do with you. He just has to get the courage to tell you.

With you, there was a before in Santi’s life, and an after.

Before he knew you; and after he knew you.

Before he loved you; and after he loved you.

Except Santi’s not quite sure when he fell in love with you.

It started when Will introduced you as the newest member of the team, one of his childhood friends. He didn’t mean for it to happen, he treated you like he treated anyone else, quickly discovering that you weren’t like anyone else.

He welcomed you into his life with open arms, starting off innocently - he wanted to spend time with you. You were Will’s friend, which meant that there must be something good about you. You made him laugh, made him feel safe (even when he wasn’t). He’d wanted to do the same for you and thought he did a pretty good job.

He became your friend, until one day the two of you were watching a film. He can’t remember what it was, just that you were at his house, drinking and laughing and talking, huddled in one of his blankets, and looking like you belonged there, forever.

Falling in love with you was so easy, Santi didn’t even realise he was doing it.

Santi’s still impressed with himself that he didn’t just blurt out the words then and there. I love you.

How long had he been in love with you for? He couldn’t pinpoint down a specific moment. He remembered the night when you’d become friends - the last two around the bonfire, toasting marshmallows, making that awkward small-talk that occurs between acquaintances.

You’d made him laugh, playing chubby-bunny and teasing him until he’d had a go. You’d talked and talked, and Santi can’t even remember what about. Nothing, probably. The basics. Boring stuff, but filled with details that he’d used to keep the conversation going the next day.

He knows when he became your friend. Recognised when you trusted him more than the others, with the exception of maybe Will.

But he didn’t know when he fell in love with you. Just the day that the love became so overwhelming in his chest that he realised it.

The real nail in his metaphorical coffin was the night afterwards. The 5 of you had gone to a bar, and a girl had started talking to him as he was buying drinks. She was pretty, but she wasn’t you. And like a flashbulb, all of Santi’s previous partners flew through his mind and he realised that nothing had ever come out of them because they weren’t you.

They didn’t know how he liked his coffee, or why he had joined the military. They didn’t know the story behind his callsign, or what his favourite song was.

You did. What you weren’t there for, you asked about. You remembered. You made him feel important, like he mattered. In ways that he didn’t even really know existed.

You were the one that started him on decaf without telling him. That had been a conversation and a half. Before morning briefings, you’d started bringing him coffees. He hadn’t noticed much of a taste difference, and shamefully, had come to expect them.

Until, a month later, you weren’t there. A small trip home to visit your family, everyone knew you’d be back in a couple of days. Regardless, Santi had ordered what he’d thought was his usual coffee.

And found his anxiety rearing up again. It was subtle, making him more jumpy, less able to sleep, but it was there. He wasn’t sure what the cause was, definitely hadn’t linked it to the coffee, instead assuming that maybe he just missed you. Maybe because his anxiety hadn’t disappeared all the way, even with decaf. Maybe it was because it was your presence that helped him too.

He hadn’t even really noticed when the caffeine was gone, hadn’t noticed the absence of something wrong, only seeing the contrast when it returned. Maybe because it was gradual, the weaning off the caffeinated coffee, whereas the return, with his request of additional shot, had been too sharp for him.

You hadn’t noticed at first, assuming that Santi’s bear hug when he’d first seen you had just been because he missed you. But after lunch you pulled him to one side.

“Are you alright?” Your eyes are slightly wider with worry, and you’re chewing slightly on your bottom lip.

He hates that he’s the one to do that to you, and he tries to brush it off. “I’m fine.” That was his first mistake. His second was trying to push past you.

“Santiago!” He’s pulled up short, and there’s that tension, pulling at his shoulders, his eyebrows. “Tell me what’s wrong.” Your tone of voice hasn’t changed, but this time it’s a command.

Exhausted, hating himself, Santi drags his hands across his face. “Nothing. It’s nothing. I don’t...I don’t know.” He takes a breath, and it shudders through him. “I don’t know.” He sounds defeated, and he hopes you can’t hear it. “I just...I feel…” How does he feel? “Jittery.” Is what he finally settles on, but the word still feels wrong somehow.

You frown, looking him up and down like you’ve never seen him before. In fact, you’re silent for so long, Santi starts to be worried that you’re going to tell him to stop being so fucking ridiculous.

You don’t, but you ask questions.

Has he been sleeping? “Not really.”

Does he have something big coming up? “Just the usual.”

Has his daily routine changed at all? “No, I don’t think so. I get myself a coffee in the morning and the-”

You interrupt him with a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry.” And now it’s wrong, because now you’re looking at him like it’s your fault, when it definitely isn’t. “Santi I’m sorry. It’s your coffee.”

Santi frowns. His coffee? And you sound so apologetic, and he doesn’t understand why. “I switched you to decaf.” You can’t meet his eyes any more, gaze skittering to his shoulder with nerves. And you’re not shutting up. “I’m sorry, I should have told you, or asked if I could, I just... I knew you were getting nightmares, and decaf helped me so I thought it might help y-”

Santi cuts you off with a hug.

And now, the three of you sat in the booth, he hates himself for agreeing with Benny. He would like to know. He has a sneaking suspicion, odd little comments you’ve made throughout the years that when pieced together, paint a picture. A very vivid picture that he sometimes uses to torture himself, late at night in bed, imagining what you’d look like with your hands between your legs and wrapping a hand around his-

Santi shakes his head. Now is not the time. There’s never really a good time to fantasise about one of your best friends, but in public when they’re sitting next to you, is definitely one of the worst.

And why did he have to offer to take care of you? Did he think he was in some kind of cheesy porno? What if you hated him-

In the end, it’s you who breaks him out of his thoughts. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed Pope.” You push out with your foot, lightly kicking his thigh, unable to read his stony face.

Throughout all of this, Frankie has kept quiet, and now the conversation seems like it’ll be returning to safer ground, he rubs a hand over his face, lifting his hat slightly. “No.” Santi protests, although he says it too fast for it to be sincere. “I’m not embarrassed.”

“Good,” you reply, and Santi can see the moment a thought pops into your head that you can’t resist, he can see it in the way your eyes light up with mischief. “Out of all the boys, I figured you’d be the most likely to use toys.”

Frankie quickly slides out from his seat, muttering something about going to the toilet, his cheeks aflame, as Santi chokes a little on his beer. “Or maybe Will,” you muse, and Santi coughs again. “Shit, are you alright?” You ask, rocking forward to lean on your knee so you can rub Santi’s back for a second.

He concentrates on getting himself back under control, on not focusing how warm your hand is against his back. He takes deep breaths in an attempt to calm his heart down, praying that the room is dark enough that you won’t see him blush.  

Santi nods, his eyes watering a little, and you laugh, but it’s not unkind, not even when one of your thumbs wipes at his lower lash line, brushing away his tears with the pad. It’s so unexpectedly soft, another sharp contrast to this sticky, seedy bar they’re all in, where the booth seats are cracked and the most complicated drink they make is a rum and coke.

“Good,” you say, voice quiet, scooting back on the bench, your foot closer to his thigh this time, and Santi hates himself for wanting to follow you.

Instead, he pretends everyone else is still here, even as he watches Will whisper something into Benny’s ear as they stand, drinking next to the bar, with no clear intention of returning. Suddenly Benny punches Will’s upper arm, and Santi’s eyebrows twitch slightly in confusion. Benny looks ecstatic, and for what?

“I’ve used handcuffs,” he says casually, half of his mind taken up with Benny and Will acting like lunatics at the bar behind you. He’s wrenched back to you when you raise an eyebrow, and he’s reminded what it feels like to be the centre of your world.

Fuck, you’re sexy though.

***

Your heart beat speeds up, suddenly sounding loud in your chest. Your mind is screaming Danger! at you - but how can it be? This is Santiago. You would trust him with your life. You have.

I could take care of you, flashes through your mind again. Maybe-

“Yeah?” You ask, trying to act calm when there’s a steady thrumming under your skin. “And are you the tied up person, or do you do the tying?”

Santi scoffs, like he thinks the answer is obvious. Maybe it is.

“I do the tying.”

You smirk, dragging an exaggerated eye up and down his body. “Sure about that?”

He looks relaxed, like he can take up more space now Frankie has gone. One of his hands is on your calf, gently trailing up and down, slowly setting you on fire, and you don’t even think he realises he’s doing it. There’s something in his eyes that you don’t recognise, darker, although it seems familiar. That’s been happening more and more lately, especially when it’s just the two of you. You like it.

“You want to test me babygirl?”

You feel breathless. “Maybe I’d like to try.”

You’ve never spoken with Santi like this before. You flirt with him more than the other boys, but this is new. This feels...real, somehow. More dangerous. And he’s closer now, shifting, so your foot is over his lap, his hand wrapped around your ankle, on your bare skin and you’ve forgotten how to breathe. You watch his hand move on your leg and you feel like you could evaporate.  

“That’s not what good girls do.” Fuck, his voice.

“Good girls don’t do a lot of things I do.”

And you’re not sure what gives you the sudden confidence, but you lean forwards, pressing a soft kiss to his mouth. It’s a horrible angle, your legs in the way, but you don’t care.

And then you’re retreating, opening your eyes again, suddenly unsure of what you’ve just done. Your mouth feels tingly, where you can still feel Santi against you. His grip has tightened on your leg, no longer moving.

And then his hand is tugging at you a little, and there’s a smile threatening to take over his face.

Come here.

You scoot up, so your left leg is fully over him, your right leg tangling with his under the table and you can smell him now, beer and - as weird as it sounds - like a man. It’s familiar. Nice. Breathless, you shoot him a little grin, suddenly unsure.

And then he’s kissing you again and it’s everything you ever dreamed of. His lips are soft, but firm, moving against your mouth, contrasting with the slight stubble growing on his face. His free hand moves to your waist and you let out a small sound.

You break apart after a second, both of you breathless. You’ve slung your arms around his neck, fingers idly playing with his chain, and you’re the first to speak.

“So do you use those handcuffs on anyone?”

Santi kisses you again, short and sweet, before he answers, his lips mumbling against yours. “Hmm, just on girls I really like.”

You kiss again, neither of you really wanting to stop. “Can I use them on you?” Santi asks, moving to kiss along your jaw, nipping at your earlobe. You feel surrounded by him, he’s all you care about, all you can feel.

Your eyes snap open, desire pooling in your belly. Is this really happening? “Yes.”

“Good.” Santi’s voice is still low in your ear, before he moves down your neck, soft lips a stark contrast to his stubble catching on your skin. “How do you feel about a date, too?”

“Yeah?” You lean back slightly so you can see his face. He’s beautiful in this light, face half hidden in the shadows, eyes dark.

His lips are brushing yours again.

“Yeah. I’ll pick you up, take you somewhere nice, do it properly.”

“Good,” you mumble against him, “that sounds really good.” Your fingers are still playing with his chain, lightly brushing against the scar on his neck. “Shall we go?”

Before you know it, the two of you are sitting in a cab, having said a quick goodbye to the others, Will asking if it was safe for them to sit back in the booth. You’d responded with the finger, not bothering with a proper reply.

Santi leans over to you, whispering into your ear. “Can I really tie you up?”

You clench your thighs together, closing your eyes in an effort not to physically respond. The pause is enough for Santi to hesitate, hand shyly holding yours. “It’s ok, if you don’t want to, that’s fine, it was just a-”

You stop him with a kiss, moving your hand so you can squeeze him in reassurance. When you answer, it’s a mumble against his mouth so the driver doesn’t hear. “Break out the handcuffs, and we’ll see if you’re as tough as you act, big boy.”

Santi groans when you lean away from him.

Getting inside Santi’s flat is a feat in itself, and you’re honestly a little proud of the restraint both of you showed by not fucking in the stairwell, stopping every couple of meters to kiss each other senseless, hips clumsily knocking together as you rile each other up.

You’ve been inside his flat before, so when Santi kicks the door closed, walking you backwards into his bedroom, kissing you all the while, you don’t protest. It’s so nice to finally kiss Santi like you’ve wanted to for a while now, so nice to feel his hands on your waist, pushing you backwards while his hips press into yours, steady now, purposeful.

His fingers are playing with the waist of your trousers, and you help him, shimmying your jeans off, pushing them down your thighs and letting them fall to the floor. Then he surprises you, dropping to his knees in front of you, pulling your knickers down your legs.

Looking down, you feel dizzy from the rush of power this brings you. Santi looks like he’s about to worship you, his face close to your pussy. His hands are on your waist and he pushes at you, encouraging you to step back.

When you don’t he tips his head back, exposing his neck to you. “Step back.” His voice is dangerous and you can feel more wetness gathering between your legs. You grin down at him, still not moving.

In response Santi nips at your thigh, grinning when you gasp, hands flying to his hair. He pushes at you again, and this time you let him, stepping back until you hit his bed, sitting down.

Santi presses his hand against your stomach, and you allow yourself to be pushed back, falling back onto your elbows so you can watch him. He presses his nose to your mound and you squirm, impatient, as Santi spreads your knees so he can fit between your legs.

You watch him press his nose to your pussy, burying his nose in you, feeling yourself grow wetter. “You taste so good,” he groans, “Sweetest pussy I’ve tasted.” As he begins to explore you with his tongue, your hips lift off the bed with a groan and it takes you a second to recognise your own voice, broken with need. Santi’s arm reaches out, pressing you down as he explores your folds. Stubble is scratching your thighs, a pleasantly rough feeling compared to the soft wetness, the pliability of Santi’s tongue. Your clit is the first thing he concentrates on, his tongue practically lapping at you, and it all feels so good.

One hand is desperately fisting the sheets to the side of you as you try to hold on to reality, the other knotted in Santi’s short curls, nails scraping ever so slightly along his scalp even as he lifts you higher and higher. Broken pleas of his name fall from your lips when he inserts two fingers into you, gently pumping in and out, with a strangely satisfying squelch under your cries.

Your orgasm creeps up on you, slow and unsuspecting. One second your chest is heaving, breaths short and shallow, the next you’ve tensed up as you fall apart under Santi.

He keeps kissing you, gently pressing his lips over your thighs, hips, stomach as you stare at his ceiling, willing rational thought to return to you. He’s murmuring praises into your skin, telling you how good you are for him, what a good job you’ve done, how pretty you look when you come, how he wants to make you do it again, and all the while you float somewhere above your body, hardly daring to believe this is real. Santi keeps kissing you, any skin he can get his mouth on, desperate to keep tasting you. Gradually he moves up your body, even as you lie there, panting, letting him push your top up, bunching under your arms and around your neck.

Your hands fly to his hair when he bites the soft skin of your breast peeking out from your bra, and you arch your back towards him slightly, letting out a small whine. You can feel his smirk against you, so you wrap your legs around his waist, canting your hips up, grinding against where you can feel him, hard and aching in his jeans.

Now it’s your turn to smirk, slow and lazy when Santi lets out a low growl in response. He tips his head up so he can look at you, his eyes soft as he smiles at you. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

And then his body weight is gone and he’s standing next to the bed, taking his top off and it’s not the first time you’ve seen him shirtless, of course it isn’t, but it’s the first time you’ve seen him and been allowed to look, and Santi’s all shadows and soft muscle, pale scars highlighted on his skin.

You sit up, and it takes you a second to fight your way out of your top, quickly sliding the straps of your bra off, and dropping your clothes to the side of the bed as you watch Santi cross his room, and fish out a pair of handcuffs from a box with a couple of other objects inside, as well as what you’re pretty sure looks like a strap-on. And maybe it’s because his ass is currently in your eye-line, maybe it’s the surprise, but the image of you wearing it, teasing Santi with your dick while he waits on all fours on his bed, begging for you to touch him, suddenly pops into your head, and you have to work to hold back a moan at the mental image. Oh my god.

When Santi turns back to you, he’s opened the cuffs. “Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

You suddenly feel nervous, your mouth dry, and you don’t know why, this is Santi. He’s made it clear that you don’t have to do this, and anyway you want to. “Green is good, orange is slow down, red is stop,” you recite easily, and Santi nods in satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he says and his words hit deep in your stomach, unfurling something you hadn’t known existed. “You say something and I’ll untie you.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back on your hands, eyeing up the way Santi’s jeans are still on, now hanging low on his hips, exposing a small trail of hair down from his bellybutton. “What if I don’t want you to untie me?” You ask.

You can see how his eyes darken, but he doesn’t move. “Tell me you understand,” he says, voice stern and you shiver.

“I understand,” you parrot. Santi nods, pleased at you doing as he says, and steps out of his jeans, pulling his boxers off at the same time, releasing his cock. He’s hard, curving up towards his stomach and leaking pre-cum.

Almost on instinct, you lean forwards to lick it off, and Santi lets out a groan of satisfaction at the sensation of your mouth just wrapping around his head, your hands on his thighs. Before you can take him any further, he’s stepping back, shaking his head.

“Lie back,” he instructs, and you obey. Santi kneels next to you, tugging your wrists up, above your head, looping the handcuffs through his headboard and clicking them on around you. You give them an experimental tug, biting back a moan when they hold fast. “Colour?” Santi asks, and you grin up at him.

“Green.” Your voice already sounds broken. “Santi, please.”

Santi just kneels back, looking at you with those hungry eyes. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he breathes out, hands running up and down your body, ignoring how you squirm as best you can under him.

“Oh yeah?” You ask. “Why don’t you come down here then, instead of just watching me?” Santi’s hands reach your breasts, squeezing and gently massaging and you arch your back towards him.

“You’re unhappy with my hands?” Santi returns, and stops touching you. You can’t help it, letting out a whine and straining to move your arms towards him, before remembering you can’t, your attempted movement jangling the chain a little.

“No, Santi,” you’re desperate for him to touch you again, especially now you can’t touch him,“Santi please, touch me again, touch me more.” Begging has never come so easily to you. And then Santi’s moving between your legs, gripping your hips and thrusting up, but not into you, just along your folds. You moan, shifting as best as you can while Santi coats himself with your slick, the head of his cock just pushing your clit, teasing you and riling you up further.

You suddenly really want to touch him, to rake your hands through his hair, to scratch your nails down his back, to be able to suck a purple hickey into his skin. You let your head fall back to the bed, pushing your hips towards him, desperate for more, desperate for him.

It’s only when you open your mouth in a desperate plea, a whine of his name, “Santi, Santi please,” that he begins to push into you.

Your mouth falls open in silent pleasure, just as Santi begins to talk. “Fuck, baby.” The stretch of him is delicious. “I wanted this for so long.” Now fully seated in you, he rests on his forearms, kissing you softly, first on the forehead, then on your lips. “Colour?” he asks softly.

You nearly cry from how sweet it is, how sweet he is, before responding, a mumble against his lips. “Green.” You feel full, like this is how you’re supposed to feel all the time, this is your base state, and you’re going to spend the rest of your life trying to achieve this specific feeling.

“Good girl,” Santi murmurs and you keen at the praise, feeling insatiable, wanting more, clenching around him. He grins, registering your response. “You liked that? You like being told what a good job you’re doing, how good you feel around me..” he breaks off with a gasp, and your eyes close as Santi begins to move in time with his words, long, slow thrusts as he begins to put you together again, building you up, further and further, his thrusts speeding up gradually, the sound of his dick sliding into your wetness, and the slap of skin-on-skin loud in his room, mixing with your moans.

You lift your legs up, wrapping them around his waist, hooking one of your feet around Santi’s butt. They don’t stay there for long, one of Santi’s arms pushing one leg up your body, hand under your knee as he splits you open. The new angle hits something deeper in you, and you gasp, unable to move and at the mercy of Santiago.

Your orgasm takes you by surprise, coming out of nowhere, your lower body suddenly clenching around Santi, arms straining against the handcuffs, as you try in vain to touch him. You tumble through it, muscles spasming as you fall under him. He keeps moving into you as you shudder below him, pulling you through with murmured praise and encouragement as another broken cry leaves your throat.

His thrusts start to get sloppier as he goes faster, losing his rhythm slightly and you can tell he’s near his end. As best you can, you start moving your own hips, grinding up to meet him, words of encouragement slipping past your lips. “Santi, you feel so good, are you gonna fill me up?” You coo, pouting a little, tugging your wrists a little for emphasis. “Please Santi, I want to feel you, come in me, please-”

You stop when Santi snaps his hips once more, with a groan of finality and you can feel his cum inside of you as he holds himself there, his cock pulsing within you. He presses a couple more gentle kisses to your neck before sliding out, and you hiss slightly at the pull on your sensitive folds of your pussy.

He leaves for a second, returning with a key and gently releasing your wrists. “Good girl,” he murmurs, massaging your skin. “You did so good for me.”

He helps you sit up, kissing your cheek before leaving again. This time when he returns, he has a wet rag, and a glass of water, which you take a sip from, not having realised how thirsty you were. He gently dabs the rag on the inside of your thighs first, and the two of you watch in slightly morbid fascination as Santi’s cum leaks out of you onto the rag.

“That’s kinda hot,” you comment idly, wondering if Santi fucked all sense of you.

He only laughs, wiping the mess away and cuddling up next to you. “Do you want me to do it again?” he asks as you lean into his arms, his hands wrapping around your wrists to rub circles into your skin.

“Yes,” you answer, probably too quickly but beyond caring.

“Good.”

There’s a pause, and you can tell Santi wants to ask you something, so you twist in his arms, kissing along his shoulder. The act feels small, and innocent somehow, despite your states of undress, as you try to reassure him.

“You were right,” you murmur near his ear, “Stranger was where I was going wrong.”

It takes him a second to piece your reference together, but then he grins, and it’s like he hung the sun in the sky. “Yeah? I took care of you?”

You kiss him again, this time on the lips, biting back your own identical grin. “Yeah.”

***

Thanks for reading! Reblogs and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

Tags: @fantasticcopeaglepasta​

[kingandfireheart]

Cassian's Love: words from a guy who speaks through actions

Something I love about Cassian is that he doesn't really hide the ball when it comes to his feelings for Nesta. He's most definitely an actions speak louder than words person (physical touch is his love language), but he does use words in ACOSF. I read someone say that Cassian didn't show his love for Nesta, and I completely disagree. Even though SJM never showed us Cassian saying the actual words, we see it so often through the small touches like flicking her cheek, the way that he never makes fun of her (many) questions, or the way he's always there, but he never pushes her too far.

In ACOWAR he confesses his love

" I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you again in the next world -- the next life. And we will have that time. I promise. "

Yes, there is a lot he doesn't say - that they are mates, that he wants more than just sex, that he loves her. He even goes far enough to attack Lanthys to prevent him from revealing the truth. (I can write a whole post on why he wouldn't tell her about being mates, but I think Nesta's reaction to Lucien's declaration at the end of ACOMAF can suffice as explanation).

After his heartbreaking confession in ACOWAR, it makes sense that he's more reserved with Nesta. When thinking about his almost confession on solstice, he even says, "He hardly managed to walk away with some semblance of pride. Over his cold, dead body would she do that to him again." He is protecting himself by ignoring the mating bond too ("Some small quiet part of his brain whispered otherwise. He ignored it. Had ignored it for a long time now.")

Still throughout the book, he owns up to his feelings for Nesta when given the opportunity -- he just doesn't say the words "I love you" or "You're my mate". This post goes through some scenes in chronological order, since they show how Cassian does care.

(I could write another whole post on how I feel cheated of two months of happy Nessian between Solstice and Starfall, but that's what fanfiction is for, right?).

When Mor asks if it pains him to see Nesta like this, he says:

"All of it pains me... It pains me that Nesta has become... this. It pains me that she and Feyre are always at each other's throats. It pains me that Feyre hurts over it, and I know Nesta does, too. It pains me that ..."

When he's pleading her to train, she asks him why he isn't negotiating harder, he says.

"For you, I have no strategies."

Then there's the confrontation before, "I'm always thinking of that look on your face". (Yes, he's goading her here, but I don't think he's lying)

"Why so many questions tonight?" // "Because we're talking like normal people, and I want to know. About all of it." // "Let's nor retread old territory, Nes." // "It never mattered to me whether you took half the Cauldron's power or a drop. It still doesn't matter. // "Why?" "Why do you even bother?" // "Why did you stay at my side when we went up against the King of Hybern during the last battle?"

Answer: because they're mates.

After Nesta fights with Elain, he tells her he'll be there for her.

"Whatever you need to throw at me, I can take it. I won't break." No challenge laced the words. Only a plea. // "You don't understand," she said, voice rasping. "I am not like you and the others." // "That's never bothered me one bit." (emphasis added)

When Rhys gives Nesta a mental warning about Gwyn:

"I'm pissed off that you can't seem to believe one good thing about her. That you refuse to fucking believe one good thing about her."

When they are discussing the Dread Trove and pushing Nesta to scry: Yes Cassian for arguing against only protecting Elain

" There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that should not be exposed to." // "But Nesta should?" Cassian growled.

"It's not right to wield Elain as a threat to manipulate Nesta into scrying." "There are harsher ways to convince Nesta, boy" "You're a fool if you think threats will make her obey you." ... "If we manipulate Nesta into scrying, even by using Elain against her, then we'll do what is necessary." "I don't like it."

After Nesta's nightmare:

"Hey." "Hello" "Are you all right?" "Yes." "Good" "You want to talk about it?" "No" "That's fine." "You want breakfast?" "I like your priorities, General." (italics added)

When Rhys and Feyre mention bringing in Helion:

"He'll help...If only for another shot at her." // Nesta rolled her eyes, and and the gesture was so normal that Cassian's smile became more genuine, edged with relief // You wear your heart for all to see, brother. Rhys said without turning Cassian's way. // Cassian only shrugged. He was past caring.

When they finally have sex , we have this short back-and-forth:

"I'll hurt you." // "I don't care" // "I do."

and my personal favorite

"I'm beyond lies right now, Nesta."

When Nesta asks whether Cassian enjoyed their previous encounter, he tells her:

I enjoyed myself too much. I've thought about it for days and days.

"Whatever you want. Whatever you need from me." He knew those were a fool's words, knew he offered up too much.

And when Nesta asks "How can I need you again so soon?" Answer: because they're mates.

"I've needed you from the moment I first met you. And now that I get to have you, I don't what to stop

When they find out about the new Dread Trove, he's quick to defend Nesta to others:

This scene isn't really dialogue, but I'm including it because I love Cass.

They moved on to far merrier subjects, but Cassian mulled it over throughout the evening. The fighting was only part of it. The Training would sustain her, funnel her rage, but there had to be more. There had to be joy. There had to be music. (emphasis added)

When Nesta breaks down at the end of the hike, we see that Cassian doesn't just love Nesta, but he likes her, he may even admire her.

"I don't know how to get there. I don't think I'm capable of it" // "You are. I've seen it -- I've seen what you can do when you are willing to fight for the people you love. Why not apply that same bravery and loyalty to yourself?"

"You don't need to become some impossible ideal. You don't need to become sweet and simpering. You can give everyone that I Will Slay My Enemies look - which is my favorite look, by the way. You can keep that sharpness I like so much, that boldness and fearlessness. I don't want you to ever lose those things, to cage yourself."

"I'll be with you every step of the way... Just don't lock me out. You want to walk in silence for a week, I'm fine with that. So long as you talk to me at the end of it." (emphasis added)

When Cassian and Nesta go to the prison, there are some more telling moments:

"What if my presence would go unnoticed, but yours sets off a trap? We can't risk that." // His throat bobbed. "I can't risk you." // The words slammed into her heart. (emphasis added)

and later,

"I have always been your friend Nesta. Always"

When Nesta and Cassian return from the Prison:

Nesta brushed her fingers against Cassian's in silent understanding. His own curled against hers, meeting her stare as if to say, See? We're the same after all.

But when Rhys suggests having Nesta dance with Eris, Cassian is territorial to the max

"You're not going to use her."

"Over my dead fucking body," Cassian exploded.

"Nesta hasn't agreed to anything," Cassian snapped. "Even one dance with that prick is too much --"

"I don't like it."

He also agrees to go with her to the cottage in the human lands, and is so damn supportive and kind to her there. Action not words here but I love this himbo so much

Cassian stood beside her through all of it. Not speaking, not touching. Just there, should she need him. Her friend -- whom she'd asked to come her with her not because he was sharing her bed, but because she wanted him here. His steadiness and kindness and understanding.

And of course, the amazing and wonderful solstice scene:

"I'm sorry for how I behaved last Solstice. For how awful I was."// "I know. I forgave you a long time ago."

"Because I was fucking jealous!" He roared, wings splaying. "You looked like a queen, and it was painfully obvious you should be with a princeling like Eris and not a low born nothing like me! Because I couldn't stand the sight of it, right down to my gods-damned bones."(emphasis added)

"You're not going to marry Eris." "No" "There will be no one else. For either of us." "Yes" "Ever."

The big ole fight

"Say what I've guess from the moment we met. What I knew the first time I kissed you. What became unbreakable between us on Solstice night"

"I am your mate, for fuck's sake!" "You are my mate! Why are you still fighting it?

"You promised me forever on Solstice," he said, voice breaking. "Why is one word somehow throwing you off that?" (emphasis added)

And the conclusion that just wasn't satisfying enough:

"What do you want? // "You" // "You've had me from the moment you met me."

[dialovers-translations]

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE BLOOD Vol.2: Mukami Kou [Track 9+10]

Original title: 気持ちいことを考える時間 & 明けることのない夜

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Vol. 2: Mukami Kou [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Kimura Ryouhei

Translator’s note: Rejet listened to my pleas and there’s no more yucky noises in these last two tracks, thank god. T _ T If it weren’t for track 7 & 8, I’d say this CD was actually quite enjoyable despite Kou not being super high up on my favorites list. I just can’t handle the bodily gore stuff though. ;; You may say I got into the wrong fandom then and maybe I did butー Have some mercy on my weak stomach. xD

Track 1+2 ll Track 3+4 ll Track 5+6 ll Track 7+8 ll Track 9+10

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 9: Time to Think About Pleasure

*Rustle*

“Hm...I’m thirsty again. ...Geez...I wonder if I’ve been successfully caught in your web and stooped down to their level.  Oh well, I guess it’s fine. As long as I have youー and as long as I can have your blood, all of my desires will be fulfilled...”

*Rustle*

“Ah-aaah~ These twig legs...When looking at them, I can’t help but want to rip them to shreds, you see? ...However...I’m feeling quite good right now, so I’ll let you off the hook.”

*Rustle*

[00:40] “Hmー Are you running low on blood, perhaps? Somehow it doesn’t gush out the same way it did before. ...So I’m going to have to increase the pressure on your leg a little...”

He squeezes down as you cry out.

*Rustle rustle*

“There we go. I wonder what will happen if I block your blood circulation like this...~? Ah. Does it hurt? But don’t worry. I’ll give you pleasure in a sec. Say, you’ll forgive me, right?”

You writhe around. 

[01:15] “Haha...I really feel as if I could just tear your leg off with my fangs. You should be grateful to your own blood for being so delicious, otherwise you would lose your limbs in no time. Fufufu...~”

Kou bites you again.

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“Mmh...Nn...”

*Sluuuurp*

*Gulp gulp*

“Haah...So sweet...and delicious...”

*Sluuuurp*

“Give me more...Hahn...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Hah...”

*Gulp*

“Haah, hah...”

*Gulp*

“Haah...I feel as if I’ve reached my peak as well...You feel good too, don’t you? ...Hey, are you listening to me?”

You just weakly whimper in return.

[02:19] “Hey, answer me. I’m the one asking you a question after all. If you don’t, then I really can’t guarantee your safety. Ah...Did you perhaps come just now? (1) Ahahaha...Honestly, I don’t need to hear your reply, I can tell by the look on your face.”

*Rustle rustle*

“However...You’re still not satisfied yet, are you? I can tell by that greedy look in your eyes. You want me, don’t you~? Well, I suppose I should give you a reward seeing as you managed to get off from my fangs~ I’ll kiss you...~”

*Smooch smooch*

You flinch. 

“...Hm? Why do you seem so surprised? You like this sorta stuff, don’t you? Hah. ...Most foolish human girls are weak to kisses. Mmh...”

*Smooch*

“Ah...”

*Smooch*

“Fufu...”

*Smooch*

[03:32] “...Haahー Honestly, humans are so cheap to feel satisfied just from pressing one’s lips together like this. It’s so easy, it almost seems precious. ...See? You looked somewhat happy for a split second just now, didn’t you? Look at you getting the wrong idea already...I was spot on, wasn’t I?”

You frown.

“Ah-aah, you really are such a fool. Hahaha...”

*Rustle*

[04:06] “Well then...Where should I bite you next? I can feel my body aching, begging for more. ...Hehe. I’ll search for more of their marks and remove all traces of those guys’ fangs. ...Brace yourself.”

*Rustle*

“Hmー Next up is...Here, I guess? The nape. I wonder who sucked from here, huh? Do you remember all that information?”

Kou licks your skin.

[04:44] “I bet you recall it upon having these marks touched and your body starts to ache all over, correct?”

*Rustle*

“Say...What do you want me to do? Should I just plunge my fangs in? I don’t take requests like this very often so come on, hurry up and give me an answer.”

*Rustle*

“Ah, right! Let’s do something they’ve never done to you before! We have plenty of time on our hands after all. ...Hey, are you listening?”

*Smack*

[05:15] “Don’t space out on me now. I’m right in front of you, so you have to stay focused, looking only at me, thinking only of me.”

*Cling cling*

“...Hm? Ah. I still haven’t untied your arms, have I? I doubt you have the energy to fight back anymore, so I suppose I can remove this thing.”

*Cling cling*

[05:48] “Hm...Hahaha...You’re slouching but we’re still far from done, you know? I still want to have lots more fun after all. I’m doing you the honor of giving you my full attention, so I see no reason for you to refuse?”

Track 10: A Never-Ending Night

“Now what to do...~ Well, I suppose I should do something about these marks on your nape first, right? I bet they make you feel disgusted too. ...Don’t they?”

*Rustle rustle*

“Hm...To be honest, it’s the first time I feel this...unexplainable anger towards marks which aren’t my own...For real...I’ll make sure to get rid of all of them...”

Kou bites you.

“Hahn...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Haah...”

*Gulp*

“Haah, hah...”

*Gulp*

“...I have to go deeper...More...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Haah...Haah...!”

*Gulp*

[01:08] “Hah...! ...Phew...I wonder why I just don’t feel satisfied...even when I’ve sucked so much of your blood already...? I just end up craving more and more, wanting to push to the very limit...Until you die...! Exactly. Let’s go to that limit. Don’t you think that might just make it even more enjoyable...? Fufu~ ...Hm?”

*Rustle rustle*

“What’s wrong...? Look at you snuggle up to me...”

You explain.

[01:51] “Your body has gone limp? ...Geez, you’re so hopeless. Come here, I’ll embrace you tightly.”

*Rustle*

“Hm? It hurts...? Well, of course it does. I squeezed you tightly all at once after all. ...See? As a result, blood has started gushing out the wound from earlier.”

*Sluuuurp*

“Hahn...”

*Gulp*

*Sluuuurp*

[02:29] “Haah...You see, this whole time I’ve also been...I guess you would call these dizzy spells? The room’s spinning and my body feels so hot, as if I’m melting...I feel we might just become one. 

[02:55] “At first I thought I had caught myself quite the masochistic kitten. I was convinced you’d upset me and wouldn’t last long but before I knew it, this happened...Laughable. ...Furthermore, I’m frustrated with myself. It doesn’t make sense for someone like me to feel satisfied with someone else’s second-hand goods. (2) Under normal circumstances, I’d never show interest in such a person...”

*Sniff*

[03:37] “When I get a whiff of your nearby scent, I get the urge to plunge my fangs inside. This must be my instincts rather than just a mere reflex, right? Fufu...But that’s what you want as well, isn’t it?”

You remain quiet.

“...Hah! I’ve told you a million times so far, but I expect an answer when I ask you a question. I don’t care if you’re lost in the pleasure from my fangs, getting the cold shoulder still pisses me off. ...Don’t come crying to me afterwards.”

Kou bites you again.

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“Hah...”

*Gulp gulp*

[04:29] “Haah, haah...Aah...I still want you more...I’ll devour you whole...With everything I’ve got...You must be happy to hear that, no? Of course you are. You should be grateful...to the blood now flowing through both our bodies. Haah...”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

[05:05] “Mmph...Haah, haah...Come on, open your eyes and look at me. That’s all you need to bring you joy, right? The morning will never come again. ーー Never. Because I’ve already decided I will make you mine. 

“Fufu...Ahaha...It’s fine. I already know you’re happy. So just offer all of your blood to me...as you lie there and think about how glad you are to have become mine, okay?”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“Hahn...Mmh...”

*Gulp gulp*

“Hah...

*Gulp*

“Haah...Haahn...”

*Gulp gulp*

ーー THE END ーー 

Translation notes

(1) いく or ‘iku’ has many meanings, one of which being ‘to climax/to have an orgasm’. 

(2) Kou does use the term second-hand product (中古品), referring to the fact that MC has already been used and bitten by the Sakamaki’s in the past and therefore is no longer ‘pure’.