#and he kept up eye contact almost the entire time and the only reason it wasnt the whole time

[ggukkiedae]

another little personal spiel that im adding in the tags, ignore me if you're not interested~

[retroellie]

Mile-high club

Summary: After a month of not having sex, you decide to be bold with what you want from spencer. Stepping out of both your comfort zones due to complete sexual frustration.

A/N: This one is a bit rushed, but can y'all tell what my faviote spencer era is? Like i love long haired spencer i can not! Also yall... I just turned 19 :) So that's a little life update lmao. Anyways love and miss y'all!!

Warnings: NSFW, public sex and dirty talk

Word count: 5.4K

As with any other case, this case dragged on and on until you felt you were nothing but skin and bones. Cases always left you feeling so empty inside, always so bleak... it always took you a bit to come back to your natural self. The first rule of being a part of the FBI is never to take it personally, don't take it to heart. But how could you not? You're inviting yourself into these people's lives, picking apart their brains, and using that to your advantage. You knew it was for the best but that didn't mean you had to like it.

You were doing what you normally did after cases, drinking hot tea on the jet aching for the sweet release of sleep. This time, however, you weren't aching for sleep. This entire week there was a thought always in the back of your mind, you weren't sure why it was this case specifically but for some reason, the thought lingered. Spencer... You felt yourself heating up every time around him, focusing only on his hands when he was showing you paperwork or squeezing your thighs together as you watched his hips. You had never been the needy one in the relationship, it has always been Spencer... but something about him now left you hungry. You racked it off to just you being hormonal, but you knew it was because Spencer's hands hadn't been on you for a while. Back-to-back cases like these always left no time to get down with Spencer... one downside to this job among many.

Even now, while sitting on the jet, you could only look at him. Emily and JJ were talking about god knows what, while you started across the jet to see your little Spencer. He was reading, his hands so delicately following as he read... His hair had gotten long, almost touching his shoulders now. You had gotten real used to pulling on it, sometimes subconsciously doing it as you hugged him. You started to think about how he looked last time you made him whimper, the picture burnt into your brain as you slid yourself up and down until he begged you to stop. "too much...." was all he could muster up, his wrist rubbing against the rope as he so badly wanted to reach up to touch you.

"You hear Y/N?" You heard a voice say, your heart dropping as you whipped your head towards it.

The voice belonged to Emily, her eyebrow raised as she wondered what you were thinking. She could see that something was up and not just because she was a profiler. Anyone who could see how you were looking at Spencer could see exactly how you were feeling, sexually frustrated. The way you gripped onto your coffee mug, and bit the inside of your lip roughly... basically eye fucked Spencer. Obviously, you could never tell Emily how you were thinking about Spencer being so pussy drunk that it physically hurt him. So you just sent a smile over to her, brought your tea to your lips, and nodded.

"Yeah! Sorry..." You kept the grin on your face, your embarrassment getting the best of you as you began to become flustered. "Just a bit distracted today."

You flicked your eyes between my cup and Emily, not wanting to make too much eye contact in the state you were in, your state being extremely turned on. It was gross to even admit, but even just looking at Spencer... your body reacted. Emily looked over at JJ, shooting her a look. You caught onto this, but not sure what that look even meant. JJ just chuckled softly, shifting herself in her chair. You looked between them, feeling as though you were left out of a really funny inside joke of theirs. Emily looked back at you, giving you a smirk.

"I can see that..." She leaned back in her chair, hands placed on her stomach as she read your confusion. "Been a while?"

Her words confused you, not sure what she meant by that. You now started feeling like you were the butt of the joke, feeling like you did in high school when girls would giggle behind you. "Been a while." Could mean anything, has it been a while since you showered? Has it been a while since you ate? Has it been a while since you went to a concert? The possibilities were endless yet Emily still expected an answer. You furrowed your brows, cocking your head to the side.

"What?" You asked, genuinely needing an explanation before you could even answer her question. Emily chuckled once again, looking back at Spencer before huddling herself closer to you as if she had to tell you a huge secret.

"You and Spencer?" That was all she said.

Your heart dropped, was Emily a mind reader? or were you just that frustrated that it was written on your skin? Her words made you think, however, how long has it been? It was definitely before this case and the one before it... then there was that 4-day conference y'all were forced to attend, well then that one week you got your period and didn't feel like doing anything but laying in bed... You would say it's been a good month, maybe a little more. This was definitely not normal for you two, sex was like food to the two of you. It was y'alls way to destress from cases, it became so normal to go home after a long case and bang it out. Trust and believe this drought had been taking a toll on you, you were so horny that you could start humping Spencer's leg at any moment, just like a dog in heat.

You hesitated to answer, not wanting to cross that boundary with Emily but also not wanting to be humiliated. You were the more private person when it came to the BAU, you would come in and do your work... that's it. Obviously, you were a part of the BAU family, you knew everyone's business and you would hang out with them outside of work. But you were a mystery to everyone there, well except Spencer, he had quite literally known you inside and out. As of right now though, you were frustrated and in need of a rant so that boundary didn't exist for you today.

"Is it that noticeable?" You said sarcastically, scoffing as you did so. You hated the feeling of being easily read, but the frustration was sloshing around inside you so it was only a matter of time before the people around you figured it out. Emily chuckled softly, looking over at JJ before she spoke.

"I mean you have been grouchy, you're not focused, and well..." Emily paused, she was now reading you like a book. "You've been undressing Spencer with your eyes this entire trip."

You wanted to melt into the ground, and let the worms use your flesh as food. You were embarrassed, completely and utterly ashamed of her words. You were acting like a starved man, only able to focus on the mere thought of food... like a complete glutton-driven man. You never really knew how much you needed sex, you started to wonder if you always had this need deep inside you. You remember before Spencer, you went months without an orgasm and was perfectly fine. Maybe it was Spencer, maybe his cock switched something on inside your pussy... or maybe other men hadn't been doing it right.

You felt your cheeks heat up but at the same time, your body ran cold. All you could do was watch as Emily snickered at your reaction, like your embarrassment was the funniest thing she had ever seen. You were much younger than Emily and JJ, you were newer to this world and newer to sex than they were. Trust and believe that both women have had their share of droughts, so this is not new to them. They weren't trying to embarrass you or make you feel you needed to be ashamed. No, they just found it amusing that you were so blinded to the fact you were so obvious with your motives. Let's just say your subtle touches and comments towards Spencer weren't so subtle.

"I just..." You start, your voice sounding as though you were pouting and honestly... you were pouting. "It used to be every day! Every night, after work... like clockwork! But this stupid fucking job is getting in the way of us, I mean sex is how we communicate!"

Your voice is rising, alerting the sleeping Derek who sat right behind you. He was too tired to even comprehend what you were talking about, which surprised you because he always teased you and Spencer about your sex life. The girls didn't laugh this time, only watched as you looked like you were going crazy. They didn't realize how upset you were about this, this felt it went far beyond sex to you. It did in some sense, as said before you and Spencer were always having sex so if there was no sex happening... there was no and him happening either. This could turn into a therapy session, you could cry about how you felt ignored and put aside but it wasn't that at all... you were just so horny for Spencer, this frustration building up and ready to burst. JJ sighed softly, patting you on the shoulder.

"I get it... I mean we get it." She points between her and Emily, shooting Emily a smile. "Y/N... You need to have sex or you're going to go insane."

Emily nods, agreeing with JJ's clear over-exaggeration. You felt like you were already going insane, you couldn't do anything without the thought of Spencer's cock down your throat completely eliminating your focus. So although it was clear JJ was being dramatic about it, you felt it was pretty accurate for the feeling inside you. You let out a sigh, pushing your hair back as you leaned back in your chair. You have been at this job for 4 years, and insanity came with the job, so this feeling of complete and utter insanity due to not having sex was killing you simply because it was so new to you.

"Trust me, I know." Was all you said, biting your lip softly as your eyes flicked over to Spencer once more.

He was now leaning back in his chair, his thighs slightly opened as his hands were placed on them delicately. He was looking out the window, watching the clouds go by as the sun started to set. You couldn't help but look at his veiny hands placed so pretty on his thighs, you suddenly gained tunnel vision and your eyes started to outline his cock. Spencer sensed you looking at him, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as he turned his head. He made eye contact with you, sending you a soft smile. Talk about the straw that broke the camel's back, that opened the floodgates inside of you.

"You know what you should do?" JJ asked, trying to get your attention, and in only milliseconds... she had it. "You need to make him want it, it's what I used to do with Will all the time when I was pregnant, and believe me pregnancy hormones are no joke."

How does one go about making someone want them? You were no stranger in the teasing scene, it was your favorite thing to do with Spencer. But you haven't even had 2 seconds to tease him since the drought started, so you were a bit out of practice. Spencer would usually be a puddle on the floor you stepped on in seconds when you teased him, but he was so stressed that he couldn't tell his ass from his head sometimes. You were more than willing to know how JJ did it, and how she made men want her in times of desperation. 

"How?" You ask, feeling slightly more embarrassed by your sudden confusion. JJ thinks for a second, looking over at Emily for her to pitch in at any moment.

"There's many ways to do it, all people are different Y/N" Emily chuckled, looking over at JJ who was still thinking about how she even managed to seduce Will like she did. "My advice is just be overly affectionate with him, you know? Touch him more, show a little more skin, laugh louder... Just make it known, be loud with it."

You took in her words, especially the "make it known" and "be loud with it". You felt you could do that, with how frustrated you had become you could see yourself screaming for him to just fuck you. It would be a bit hard because Spencer is kind of not good with social cues, if you try to flirt with him sometimes, he just throws statistics your way. You repeated the words "make it known" in your head, how could you make it known... at that moment as you repeated it in your head like a mantra, you had such a devilish idea. Your hands almost started shaking due to excitement, the feeling taking over your body as you went to speak.

"I can do that..." You said with a smile, standing up from your seat and fixing your shirt. "I need to use the restroom, be right back."

You basically ran to the bathroom, zooming past Spencer who was quite confused at your sudden rush. You locked yourself in the small bathroom, the excitement taking over your body as you could see yourself start doing handstands due to excitement. You pulled out your phone, setting yourself on the small counter sink as you started to pull your shirt off. You weren't sure how to do this, your nerves getting the best of you as you clicked on your camera. You had no time to think, you just pulled your shirt off and aimed your camera at your chest.

The first one was more of a softcore nude, only in your bra as your hand laid on your chest. You took a couple of pictures with your bra on, then you clicked through them, deleting the ones you didn't like. You would've stopped there but you wanted to go the extra mile, you were "being loud" with it as Emily would say. You pulled your bra off, watching it fall to the floor, the nerves in your stomach only fooling you to go further. You pointed the camera at your chest, snapping a couple of pictures. Again, you weren't good at this... you never claimed to be, so you took pictures from multiple angles and positions. Some you were squeezing them together, some you weren't.... you weren't a model or a photographer so you were working with what you had.

You finished, hopping down from the sink and putting your clothes back on. You sat on the lidded toilet, scrolling through the pictures as you picked the ones you would send. You were nervous to say the least, you knew it was just Spencer but you had never taken sex outside of the bedroom before. This was new, this was scary... this was so arousing. You clicked on Spencer's name, his name being "spencie poop" In your phone, you clicked on the pictures you wanted and hovered over the send button. Would this work? what if he isn't into it as much as you are? What were you even doing?

"Make it known. be loud with it." You repeated in your head, closing your eyes before clicking the send button. It took only seconds for it to send the anticipation building in your stomach. You decided to stay sitting in the toilet for a little longer, getting yourself together before you faced the world behind the small bathroom door. You knew Spencer wouldn't see the pictures until later on, knowing that he always put his phone on silent as he hated technology, especially when it interrupted his reading time. You wondered how he would react, knowing that Spencer didn't know how to react to most things. You wouldn't be surprised if Spencer sent you a thumbs up and a message saying how pretty you look, you weren't sure this would even work in your favor.

You gathered yourself, breathing in and out before you stood up to leave the bathroom. As you reached for the door, there was a small knock on it. You assumed it was someone who needed to use the bathroom, you had been in there for a good 15 minutes before you decided to leave. You reached for the door, opening it... Your heart dropped, your entire body went hot and your underwear became wetter than before. It was Spencer, his face was bright red and his hands shook softly. He didn't give you time to even open the door all the way before he barged into the small bathroom with you, shutting and locking the door behind you.

"Are you crazy?" He whispered, hoping no one else saw him or heard him come in. You were pressed against the sink, Spencer pressed against you as the small bathroom was not made for two. "Are you trying to get me in trouble? what if someone had seen?"

Spencer looked upset but his hard cock against your stomach gave his true feelings away. Spencer could never be mad at you, you knew this and you took advantage of it often. Unfortunately, Spencer was very by the books, he followed all the rules but when it came to you... rules didn't exist. So he wasn't actually upset about the pictures, he was just frustrated you decided to send them now. While Hotch was sitting right next to him, a clear shot of his phone and everything. You bit your lip softly, your eyes being pulled toward his cock rubbing against your belly, there was no hiding that in this small compact area.

"Seems like you liked them.." You teased softly, chuckling out as you looked up at him with doe eyes.

Spencer could have come then and there, your innocence creating a deep desire within him. He let out a sigh, his breath panning across your face as he did so smelling of coffee and mint. You brought your hand up to his tie, fiddling with it softly as you stood on your tiptoes, trying to come face-to-face with him. Spencer's breath hitched as your lips brushed his own, his mind going foggy and forgetting where he was in the moment... Something inside him though reminded him, the small voice in the back of his head telling him this was a bad idea and the team was only feet away from you both. As you started to undo his belt, He grabbed onto your shoulders, pushing you back softly.

"Y/N, that was extremely inappropriate..." He said sternly, trying not to give in to your pleading eyes. "Hotch was right next to me an..."

His words were cut off by your hand grasping his cock softly. In the short time, he had been scolding you, you managed to stuff your hand down his pants, Spencer was far too focused on trying to not give into your motives he didn't even realize. Spencer became putty just then, your hand rubbing his cock slowly cutting his iq down by 100. You knew this was also a horrible idea, I mean were you really going to let your twisted, horny mind risk your job? The answer was, yes... yes you were. If it meant that Spencer would be inside of you, then you would do anything.

"I know baby... I've been so bad." You whispered out, your hand still wrapped around his cock. You fluttered your eyes up at him, watching as his ability to control himself slowly disappeared. "But I had to! it's been so long, you have me all worked up and it's starting to hurt."

You rub his cock softly, his own eyes fluttering shut as you turn him into putty. Spencer hadn't even realized how long it had been, he didn't have much time to think about anything but work nowadays. He didn't realize it until he almost came in your hand just from a few pumps. His body had heated up, his cheeks red as you slid your thumb across his tip. His head was foggy but he still couldn't get past the thought that his boss was just outside the small bathroom you both had been in. He stiffened himself up again, putting a hand on your wrist.

"Y/N, the team is inches away from us." He spoke, pulling your hands from his pants and doing up his belt again. "I promise you I will let you do whatever when we get home to make up for these last couple of weeks okay?"

Trust and believe that it took Spencer his entire self-control to say no to you, especially after seeing those pictures. Your half-naked body, the way you looked up at the camera for him. He wasn't sure if he would be able to get his cock to soften after knowing those pictures existed, he knew this was going to be a long trip home. He struggled with getting his belt looped, his hands shook so vigorously that they were no help to him. You finally reached your hand out to stop his hands, reaching up to lift his head to look up at you.

"Spencer, if you tell me to stop right now... I will." You spoke, you were frustrated and it was so obvious you both needed this. "I will stop and we can walk out of here like nothing happened okay? I just need you to say "I want this to stop." and that's it, I'll stop. But all i need is 5 minutes, I'll get us both off and no one will even notice.``

Spencer thought for a moment, seeing how serious you were. He knew you would never force him to do anything, so he knew if he really did tell you to stop, you would. but he really didn't want you to stop, his "professional FBI agent" side told him to stop but his "love drunk" side didn't want you to stop. All he could think about was your pictures and how uncomfortable this boner was going to be for the rest of the plane ride if he didn't just flat-out fuck you.

He tried to calculate just how far away the team was from the two of you and what the chances of them hearing the two of you were. He came up with it being 72% they won't hear the two of you, due to the fact the bathroom is a bit insulated and most of the team liked to sit far from the bathroom. You could see him doing this math in his head just by the look on his face, you chuckled to yourself knowing this was a complete Spencer Reid thing. Spencer struggled internally, both his logical and hormonal sides butting heads just as he looked down at you with those pretty doe eyes you kept giving him. Spencer was going to burst, the month of no sex finally catching up to him all at once.

"Fuck it..." He said right before crashing his lips onto yours.

Now Spencer Reid must have really been frustrated as he never used words like that, but something about you just sent him over the edge each time. You kissed him back immediately, his hands kept your mouth on him as his tongue slid into your mouth. It was all so fast-paced, just like you said it would be... you just needed five minutes. You reached down to his half-done belt and started undoing it once more, trying to focus on his lips and your hands at the same time. Spencer was so completely engulfed in the kiss that he couldn't even contemplate helping you at all, he just pressed you against the sink hinting at you to hop on it.

You positioned yourself on the sink, Spencer's hands going to your ass to prevent you from falling into it. You finally got his pants undone, pulling them down so only his cock could bounce free causing a soft groan to fall from his lips. You smirked softly into the kiss, feeling just as hard he had gotten just from your little "fight".

"Really liked them huh?" You said through the kiss, Spencer just kissed you harder trying to get you to shut up.

You just laughed softly, your hands now going to your own pants to take them off. You struggled with your pants, trying to keep Spencer's mouth satisfied with your mouth while also trying to get out of your very tight pants. Spencer noticed this, pulling away from you to help you slide your pants down your thighs and watching them bunch up on your ankles. As soon as they were out of the way, Spencer didn't even bother with your panties, he just pushed them to the side and slid himself into you.

"Fuc.." Was all he could get out before he stuffed his face into your neck, silencing his moans that were bound to come out.

Your eyes immediately rolled to the back of your head, gripping onto his shoulders for support. You felt whole again, his cock sliding inside of you like it never left. Spencer didn't sit still for long before he started thrusting inside of you, his hands gripping your hips roughly. Spencer's thrust started rough and fast, taking your word for it only taking 5 minutes. To avoid suspicion and losing your job, you both needed to hurry up and get off.

You couldn't help but get lost in the feeling, finally after weeks of needing to be fucked and it's actually happening plus the feeling of getting caught only added to the pleasure. You thrust back into Spencer, lifting your hips off the counter just to slam your own hips into his. It went like this for minutes, both of you breathing heavily and using each other's bodies to get off. Suddenly you felt a knot inside of your form, your hands moving up to his hair to pull on it to alert him.

"Gonna cum... fuck gonna cum." You whispered into his ear, as his face was still stuffed between your neck and your shoulder. He was afraid if he replied, he was going to not be able to control the moans that came from his throat.

He just thrusted faster, his hand coming up to rest on the mirror as you both were being pushed further and further up onto the sink so the faucet was almost digging into your back. He let out a couple of soft whimpers as his thrust became sloppier, his eyes tearing up as his cock twitched. He'd never come this fast before, only besides the first few times you both had fucked, but this was a record and it was clear he had become so backed up that this was definitely needed.

He came first, coating the inside of your walls with his hot cum, fucking himself through his own orgasm as well as coaxing you to your own. You came only moments later, the feeling of his warm breath on your neck and his hot cum inside of you... you broke. You came with a soft moan and your nails digging into his shoulders. It wasn't the best orgasm he had ever given you but it was so needed, it felt like you had been given water after days of dehydration.

As said before, you needed to be quick so after a few seconds of recovering from ecstasy, you both were pulling your clothes back on. It felt dirty in a way, aftercare, and soft kisses weren't a luxury you had at the moment. You watched as he pulled his pants back on, once again struggling with his belt. You realized how lighter and rested he looked now like the quickie was the thing he was missing his entire life. You chuckled softly, moving your hands down to his belt to help him loop it through.

"Guess we just joined the mile-high club huh?" You smirked up at him, his face still red with lust. Spencer chuckled softly, watching as your hands fixed his belt.

Spencer was almost embarrassed that he allowed you to sit high and dry for almost a month straight, he hadn't even thought of touching you that entire time. Although his mind had been elsewhere the entire time, it still felt wrong for a person to completely deny you of anything. Spencer felt he needed sex as much as you did, something he would have never thought he would ever need. He now understands why Morgan is the way he is, the constant need to feel that closeness to someone... to feel so vulnerable, especially in a job where vulnerability is a weakness. You noticed that Spencer had been in his head again, he always just had that look to him.

"You okay?" You asked, your hands now fixing his hair slightly. "I didn't push a boundary did i?"

Spencer shook his head almost immediately, the feeling of any discomfort so far away it wasn't even there. Spencer felt completely comfortable with you, even if it was such a weird situation to be in. He just got into his own head a lot, letting his mind wander and making up all kinds of assumptions about things. The assumption on his mind right now was that maybe having a healthy, functioning relationship in this field was almost impossible. You both hadn't had a single conversation that wasn't about a case or coffee or anything that didn't involve the office, in weeks. Could you both go on like that or are you both destined to just have quickies in the jet bathroom for the rest of your careers.

"No! Of course not!" He breathed out, basking in your soft hands touching his face softly, something you had done to comfort him. "Just wanted to say sorry for being so distant lately, didn't know you were feeling this...ignored?"

He wasn't sure what the right word to use was and honestly, you didn't know either. You weren't actually angry with him, just frustrated especially when your only kind of stress release was coming home and fucking him till he cried. You continued to rub his cheek softly with your thumb, pushing his hair back from his face.

"I'm not mad honey." You chuckled, trying to reassure him that he did nothing wrong. "Just please start checking in with me okay? So the feelings don't build up and we have to risk our jobs again."

Your joke caused Spencer to crack a smile, his laugh filling the small bathroom. He nodded, leaning down to set a soft kiss on your lips. The reality started to sit in however, you both just fucked on the job basically and the embarrassment and shame were written all over both of you. You both had only been gone for 15ish minutes so it was going to be an easy lie to come up with, you'll probably blame it on your motion sickness that you actually feel often on the jet. You both agreed on a story, you had gotten sick and asked Spencer to hold your hair back, easy enough. You went to open the door, taking a breath before facing your team again.

"Hey y/n?" Spencer spoke, stopping you in your tracks before you opened the door. You gave him your full attention, turning to see his eyes once again filled the lust. "I did like them...You should definitely start, you know I'm...Sending them more often."

You let out a soft chuckle, rolling your eyes before walking out of the bathroom. You both nonchalantly went back to your seats, as if nothing happened. JJ and Emily were talking about something when you got back, completely lost in conversation to realize what had just happened. You looked around at everyone, trying to see an inch of disgust or knowing on their faces. Fortunately, everyone was oblivious to the events that happened in the bathroom so you could relax in your seat. You tried to listen in on JJ and Emily's conversation, putting your two cents in here and there but your eyes kept flicking over to Spencer. He was now boring his eyes into your skin, making your body heat up once again. You could tell that what was supposed to be a simple quickie, was definitely not over yet and it was going to be a long trip home. 

[luvjunie]

— braiding his hair

pairing: earth 42!miles x fem!reader

summary: Miles is very particular when it comes to how his hair looks, so he doesn’t let just anyone put their hands in his head. His mom has been braiding it for him since he was in middle school, and he’d found no reason to change routine until you’d randomly expressed interest one day. wc: 702

contains: fluff, fem!reader, envisioned as black!reader but not specified

word bank: “está bien, mi amor” - it’s okay, my love

You were dedicated on teaching yourself how to cornrow/dutch braid specifically for your boyfriend, Miles; having practiced on your little brother a few times before you proposed the idea. And while you could braid normally, you weren’t very well versed in braids to the scalp— those were an entirely different ballgame.

The first time he agreed to sit between your legs, handed you the rat tail comb, and simultaneously reached behind him to tug on his hair-tie and release his hair from the low ponytail it was in, you quickly understood why he kept it braided back. It was massive, and there was so much of it. Even with the sides of his hair faded you were still trying to figure out how it had this much volume. His curls were thick, coily in some places, silky and curled in others, falling just a bit below his shoulders. Hell, you were almost jealous.

It was as if he could read your mind from his seated position on the floor, his back to you, legs criss-crossed and you on his desk chair. “I got a lotta hair, huh?” He nearly felt the act of your hands experimentally hovering over the area, a chuckle falling from his lips before he asked you, “You sure you got it, Mami?” He turned just slightly to peer over his shoulder. “I can always ask my moms to-“

You hastily cut him off, “No, no!” Sounding a little more enthusiastic than you planned, heat spread up the expanse of your throat as you cleared it and sat up straighter, managing to instill some confidence in yourself. “I wanna try.”

And he’s more than willing to let you. You’re his girl after all, basically the only person he trusts other than his mother, so with a surrendered raise of his hands, he nods and leans back once again. “Aight then, do ya thing.”

It took a little longer than some simple braids should, and when you finally finished and reached forward to offer him the hand mirror, you had to restrain from anxiously nibbling at the skin on the inside of your lip. “How’d I do?” You queried quietly, hands gently resting over his lean shoulders.

You watched closely as he turned from cheek to cheek to look over your work in the mirror, brows raising in slight disbelief his bottom lip sticking out in a manner of approval as he nodded. “Damn, Ima little surprised, can’t lie.” He quipped, giving as much of a smile as someone like him gave. “You sure this your first time doing this?”

“I practiced on my little brother once or twice.” You shifted in your seat, the apples of your cheeks tight from your growing grin.“They’re not nearly as good as how your mom does them, though.” Your head tilted as you examined the plaits.

“No, está bien mi amor. They’re perfect, I fuck with them.” He set the mirror down next to him, leaning his head back to rest on your thighs.

“Really?” You felt excitement bubble in your stomach, heart swelling with pride as he expressed his satisfaction.

“Mhmm,” He hummed, long lashes fluttering up at you. “But what I like more is how you learned how to do it just for me. You gon’ be my new hairstylist, hermosa?” He licked his lips, and instantly you were distracted, his accent clinging onto his words as they rolled off his tongue.

You accidentally tuned out his question for a second, the smirk on his face and the way his eyes held contact with yours so intensely had your mind genuinely trying to wrap itself around how he looked this handsome even while upside down. “Hm?” You blinked away the thoughts, blushing when his impish grin widened, pearly whites peeking at your inability to concentrate. “Oh!- Yes… If you want me to be.” You nodded, a smile painting your face to match his.

- please do not copy, plagiarize, or repost my works on any other platform.

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated!!

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

start me up

pairing: leon x reader

tags/cws: cumming from nipple stim, thigh job, switch leon?, p in v, just the tip!!

summary: it's pwp

a/n: div creds to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

wc: 1.5k

tags: @vaaaaaiolet @porcelainseashore @leonfucker3000 @rigorwhoring @withonly-sweetheart

You find out by accident. You're just messing around with Leon who's half-naked because he refuses to wear a shirt to bed even when it's cold outside.

"I'm always hot," he says with a wink.

His jokes may be stupid, but he's entirely correct — he is incredibly hot, all the fucking time.

You find yourself running your hands along his bare skin, innocently tracing shapes with your fingertips.

"What's the point of men having nipples if they can't even use them for anything?" you ask as your hands make their way over his chest.

"How should I know?"

There's something different about his voice, yet so familiar. His breath hitches and his body twitches at the sensation, but he arches towards your touch, not away from it. 

"Would you cut that out?" he asks.

You stop, worried you've crossed a line, but then you see the obvious bulge in his sweatpants.

"Why do you want me to stop?" you ask, with a knowing grin.

"Because, like you said… no reason to touch 'em…" he trails off, refusing to make eye-contact.

He's a better liar than this. He's barely even trying. Nevermind the Raccoon City incident cover-up, he kept your surprise party a secret for weeks, led you around the mall for hours so your friends could set up, and you had zero clue. That takes real skill. 

"So, this just came out of nowhere?" You ask, as you grab his hard cock through his pants.

You catch him off guard, making him groan.

"Maybe it did," he says.

"Maybe it didn't," you insist.

When your hands traverse his chest, testing the waters, you look him in the eyes to make sure he's okay with this. He gives you an almost imperceptible nod — the reluctant go-ahead. He wants you to do it again, but he doesn't want to admit it. 

Before you can resume your little experiment, he grabs your cheeks and pulls you towards him, distracts you for a moment with a fervent kiss. His attempts to regain control are in vain. You don't have to think to kiss him, it's second nature, so your mouth doesn't leave his until you decide to take your lips lower. You work your way down his neck, his collarbone, his shoulders, chest, and when your open-mouthed kisses reach their desired location — his supposedly-useless nipples — he whimpers. You can tell it's an attempt to hold back a moan, but the sound only comes out more desperate.

Effectively straddling his lap now as he lies on his back, you can feel him shamelessly bucking his hips up, trying to get some friction, some attention where he really wants it. You don't stop him, but you don't move your attention away from his nipples either. You switch back and forth between the two, flicking your tongue over one and your thumb over the other.

His breath quickens, as does his heartbeat, and he grips the bed sheets beneath him in lieu of touching you, like he's trying to avoid alerting you to the fact that he's so close. As if he could get away with cumming in his pants without you noticing.

Instead of teasing him, knowing he'll push you away and you won't get what you want, which is to see his head tipped back in pleasure as he moans your name, you ever-so-slightly reciprocate the movement of your hips against his.

His tone is urgent when he all but screams, "fuck fuck fuck". He can't decide if it's worth the embarrassment to let himself go over the edge but it's too late to make the choice not to. You do him the favor of palming him through his sweats as he cums, earning a breathy 'thank you' from Leon.

Once he regains his composure, he flips you onto your back, dips his head between your thighs, and makes you cum almost as quickly as he did. The image of him cumming in his pants brings you over the edge then as well as every time you touch yourself in the next week or so. 

So, of course, when you're in a similar position, half-naked and in bed (except this time you're already making out, he's already hard), you say, "we should try that thing again."

You flick one of his nipples to let him know which "thing" you're talking about.

"No," he mumbles into your, mouth, still kissing you, "I wanna fuck you this time."

"What if we compromise?"

"What's your idea of compromise?"

"You can fuck me, but not my pussy."

"Your mouth?" he asks, looking a bit boyish in his excitement.

"Nope."

"Your ass?" He looks surprised, yet not offended by the idea.

"No, Leon, you get to fuck my thighs."

At first, he looks disappointed, but then he grips the flesh of your thighs, and smiles. "They are nice," he muses as he runs his palms over your soft skin.

He's already under your spell, desperate for anything you're willing to give him. Sure, your thighs might not be the same as your cunt, but compared to his hand, your thighs feel like heaven when he slides his cock between them.

You insisted upon lubing him up lest he chafe your thighs with his thrusts. You lock eyes as he lifts your legs up, and you both know he's not going to last long.

He's a mess – rambling incoherently, hips stuttering, eyes screwed shut, knowing that one look at you equals an instant orgasm. But he can't resist. You lock eyes as he shoots ropes of white from your belly button to your chin. You wonder if there's a world record for this.

His cheeks are bright red when his eyes finally meet yours again.

"That was the hottest fucking thing, like ever," you say, much to his surprise. And you mean it wholeheartedly.

"Seriously?" he asks.

"Yeah, I might even let you fuck me as a reward."

Or at least that's what you say. But what you really mean is: I might need you to fuck me because you made me unbearably aroused.

One thing that Leon excels at is getting hard at a moment's notice. It's like how some people can cry on command – Leon can pop a boner just by willing himself to do so.

There's a caveat, of course. "But, just the tip," you say.

"You really only want just the tip?" he asks, teasingly, an attempt to turn the tables as he lazily drags his fingers along your dripping slit.

Yeah, you really do. You really wanna see him cum from almost nothing, again and again for the rest of your life.

"Mhm," you hum as you take his cock and guide it to your entrance.

You both gasp when you feel the head slip inside you. It's an unspoken challenge to see who cums first, and as he begins to thrust, you worry you might lose.

It's addicting – and quickly, you realize the tip isn't enough.

"Leon, Leon, Leon," you chant his name as if you don't have his full undivided attention. "I need more. I need you to fuck me – for real."

"Oh? I thought you wanted just the tip, baby?" He taunts.

"I changed my mind," you say, and seeing the smirk on his face, you add a sincere, desperate, "please."

"Too bad," he says. "I'll fuck you deeper later, baby, but you're getting what you asked for this time."

If he wasn't mean already, he is when he removes his cock entirely. You look at him in shock and horror. His only reaction is to slide his cock along your folds.

"You're so fucking mean," you say, and in that moment, you're convinced you mean it.

"And? What are you gonna do about it, huh?"

"Nothing!” You’re on the verge of tears now. “I surrender. I'll do whatever you want if you just fuck me."

"Whatever I want?" He asks, teasing your entrance with the tip.

You clench around nothing, in anticipation, in vain. "Yes. Whatever you want."

You're prepared to run down the street naked or enter a cage of hungry tigers, but what he asks for is worse. "Okay. Dishes for the week."

You groan, dreading the chore (but not enough to reject the bargain).

"And laundry," he adds.

You don’t even have a chance to think about your answer. Your pussy is in control now as your mind is lost somewhere in the pool of wetness dripping out of you. "Okay, fine, goddamnit, just fuck me."

So, he does. Since you practically milked him dry with just your thighs, he can last much longer. You are at a disadvantage. He fucks you at a merciless pace, making you scream out his name (and making your neighbors hate you even more than they already do).

The orgasm you share makes a mess of the sheets and when Leon pulls out of you, you remember your agreement.

"Oh, fuck me," you say.

"I already did, baby," he says with a particularly cheery tone, basking in the bliss of two orgasms and zero chores.

[cupcakeslushie]

First || Prev || …

Here’s the next part of the Kendratello AU! I knew it was going to be very dialogue heavy, so I figured writing it out would be fast, but I’m so ready to be done with it that I’ve not really beta read it. So I apologize for any errors. But enjoy!

Splinter loves his sons, but these last few days have been eating away at his already shriveled and fraying nerves. Watching his children ambling around their home, for months, each in varying states of anxiety, fear, and distress, hasn’t been easy on his old heart.

They’ve been through so much, experienced more hardships than Splinter has ever wanted for them. But the latest crucible tearing his family apart was caused, not by some ancient demon, or world-ending threat—but a fiendishly smart, young woman.

One who’d kidnapped his son and replaced him with a stranger that Splinter hardly recognized.

The bitter tale is too familiar for the old movie star to painlessly swallow. It seems fate played such cruel tricks sometimes. Always seeming to strike harsher the second go around. With outcomes even more brutal and painful. His son was stolen by a hateful, sadistic woman, and kept locked away, until she was satisfied with the new toy that emerged from the shadows.

So it stands to reason how…relieved Splinter had been that one, early morning. When his three sons had pulled Purple into his bedroom, piling into his bed, nothing but wide eyes and panicked shouting; one over the other. Looking back now, he can recognize how short-sighted his quick relief had been. But in the moment, as a father, Splinter had only seen this new, strange development as a blessing.

Donatello might have been confused, and irritated with his brother’s manhandling, but Splinter could clearly see more life in those eyes than he’d witnessed in months. Splinter had shushed the rest, and spoken to Purple directly, finally getting a better grasp on what his sons were shouting about.

Amnesia.

So, of course, relief. Because how could forgetting all those horrible, tortuous weeks in that woman’s grasp, possibly be a bad thing? By some miracle, Splinter’s boy had been returned to him. Nowhere near that frail ghost of Donatello, which Splinter would sometimes find curled up on the floor of his own lab, screaming Kendra’s name and sobbing to be returned to her care.

He had been spared all of that, like it never happened. Their family had been handed a gift, and Splinter truthfully wasn't interested in the whys of it all…

Until Michelangelo chose to contact Draxum, and words like “brain damage” and “tumor” were thrown into the mix.

An entire day of testing yielded…varying results. They were able to rule out the scariest of options. No dark shadows were seen in the X-rays of his son’s beautifully brilliant brain, and no concerning squiggles were pointed out by the Hidden City doctors who studied the fast moving waves appearing on the EEG. It was all a bunch of nonsense to Splinter, but Donatello nodded like he agreed, when he was handed the papers over to inspect himself.

Everything was normal, physically.

That left the most difficult part of the day. Getting his son to speak to a psychiatrist—seriously, and without snarking back at every possible question he would eventually be asked.

Draxum had thankfully picked a good one. Briefing her beforehand on…everything. She seemed prepared for Purple’s special brand of cynicism. The sheep yokai was apparently at the top of her field.

A tentative diagnosis of “dissociative amnesia” had been given, along with a small number of pamphlets and printouts. The doctor had informed Splinter that certain treatments might improve Donatello’s situation, but no cure had been discovered for something like this.

They would just have to take things one day at a time. And they’d been doing so well. Almost like everything was back to normal.

Splinter had become very good at ignoring that pending feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He smiled at his sons every day onward, like nothing was wrong. And all of them, in return, began falling back into a more comfortable ease around each other. The stress had just been starting to loosen in Red’s shoulders and jaw. Orange was giving real, honest smiles again. And Blue was no longer a shadow around corners, hiding from Purple like a bomb he was scared to set off.

But the other shoe that had been the root of Splinter’s dread, finally dropped, and the rug was pulled from under their feet once more, violently, with no warning.

Even after they’d managed to calm Donatello down. There was no negotiating the terms of his reality, and he was stubbornly convinced that the world around him was fabricated. Without caring about the consequences, he refused to be civil towards any of them, treating them all like jesters in a play, where no one had the script.

The family’s usual process for dealing with Purple’s anger–letting him cool off alone in his lab until he collected his thoughts–was unfeasible this time around.

Splinter didn’t think he could ever forget the image of his son, turning the knife he held in his hands inwards, and threatening to end his own life.

No; leaving him alone was not an option.

Which led back to Splinter’s previously mentioned frayed nerves.

Four days into this new, stressful change, and his genius son was still managing to find creative ways to sneak past their watchful eyes. Six attempts, in total. Each time, caught with seconds to spare, and just as traumatic for everyone involved.

Raphael and Michelangelo at the moment, were going through their home, removing every sharp implement they could find. Anything that could possibly be used to “put an end to the loop” that Donatello was convinced he was stuck in.

While the two performed their important task, Blue and Splinter had the harder of the two jobs; watching Purple.

Splinter was currently sitting comfortably in his chair, but it was far from his usual level of relaxation. Despite plenty of bean bags to occupy, the twins were locked in a shoving match. For some reason, they were fighting over the single, smallest one they must’ve owned.

“If you don’t get out of my personal space, I swear to Oppenheimer you will regret it, Leonardo!”

“And I swear to Ryan Renolds, that I’ll shred all of your softest hoodies if you kick me in the nuts one more time!”

“That Barbenheimer joke doesn’t even make sense, you idiot, that was Ryan Gosling!”

“Who mentioned Barbie? I’m talking about Deadpool and Wolverine!”

“What does that movie have to do with anything?!”

“Fuck dude, what did I just say about nut shots!”

“Then get out of my kicking radius, and your non-existent nuts will be safe!”

“BOYS!”

Both his sons quickly pause their arguing, giving their father their undivided attention.

“Leonardo, go help your brothers.” Splinter demands. “I will watch Purple. He has not had a moment of free time from any of you in days, and it is clearly wearing on all of us.” Blue gives his father one of his patented unimpressed stare downs.

“No offense, Pops, but how is you watching him, any different than me?”

“Because I will sit in my chair, and Purple will scroll on his phone, and there will be quiet.” Splinter can’t stand the bickering any longer. He knows both his sons will benefit from this time apart. It’s just convincing Blue of that.

Donatello’s gaze is boring holes into the back of Leonardo’s head while his second oldest son matches Splinter’s scrutiny. The rat can see the need for some fresh air battling against Blue’s desire to stay close. But Leonardo is his sharpest son, and even he can admit that his constant presence has become too grating for his brother.

“You need to watch him like a hawk, Dad,” Leo glares at his twin out of the corner of his gaze, “sometimes you can get a little…distracted.”

The new projector, playing Splinter’s same old programs, flashes against the curtain hung on the wall. The volume is set to low, but Blue still looks pointedly between his father and the screen. Splinter doesn’t blame him for his concern, so he tries to put all the gravity he can into his tone, enough that when he does promise to stay vigilant, it seems to convince Blue to place his trust in him.

Purple stays quiet through the exchange, only breathing a sigh of relief once his brother is long past the threshold of the den. He looks ready to lean back into his hard won pillows, but Splinter realizes that Blue had something of a point. Donatello is positioned quite far from him, and he’s suddenly nervous about catching something in time.

“Purple, how about you come sit with me.” Splinter suggests it kindly but firmly, and with a smile– so his son can’t refuse. He pats the bit of cushion next to his legs, “I will honor my promise to leave you alone, but I would be much more relaxed if you were within my reach.”

His boy merely blinks at him, blank faced, and staring at the very spot that Splinter has just created for him.

It isn’t as though his recliner is small, even if Splinter himself is. Donatello had custom made it for him, after one too many complaints about his old brown one hurting his back. It practically swallows Splinter, but remains just stiff enough to provide plenty of support for his lower back. He could even lay sideways and still have some space to stretch.

Splinter recalls very clear memories of all his sons fighting for a spot by his side when they were younger. But it has been some time since those days…perhaps Donatello thinks he’s far too old for such a thing as sitting by his aging father. Yoshi remembers himself at eighteen, and shudders. He’s forever thankful that no matter how lacking his parenting skills might have been, that his boys are kinder to him than he ever was to his Jiji.

Donatello pulls at some invisible thread of his black leggings. Since this new alteration of his memories, Purple has taken to wearing more layers. It’s nearing fall, but not nearly cold enough for the large sweatshirt, black leggings AND socks that his son is currently donning.

Splinter just barely hears Purple murmur a jumbled, “Huh?”

Splinter catches some sort of emotion actively being suppressed behind the bewildered shock at his offer, but it’s hard to tell what it is. Over the years Splinter is ashamed to say, he has grown very bad at reading his own children. Especially Purple, who, if he was being honest, has always been very hard to decipher.

Splinter starts to think the offer will be rejected, when Purple finally climbs to his feet and ambles slowly over. The unknown emotion skittering at the edge of Donatello’s expression morphs into something closer to suspicion. This one easy to identify, especially when it practically drips from his next words.

��Trying to endear yourself to me won’t sway me into falling for your tricks.”

The barb is said just as unkindly as everything else Purple has thrown at his family these last few days. Splinter lets it slide off him like water. He knows his son would (probably) never speak to him like that if he wasn’t stuck in such a painfully clear mode of survival and uncertainty.

“Yes, yes.” He says, untroubled. “Come sit and I can finally lean my chair back.”

Donatello watches him the entire time as he cautiously settles into his spot. He yelps when Splinter grabs his ankles and pulls his son’s long (thin, still much too thin) legs across his lap. For an instant, Splinter freezes, growing worried he’s overstepped. The act had been done without a thought. It’s the way Purple has always liked to sit, finding it more comfortable than any other way. Donatello preferred to keep his distance. A deviation from his siblings, for sure.

Michelangelo would press as close as possible, two sides smushed together like a hug, only without the constricting limbs (though, if Orange were ever to fall asleep in Splinter’s chair, those too would eventually find their way to catching him in their hold).

Leonardo preferred to sit on the arm of his chair, never staying still for long enough to find a comfortable position. But when he slumbered, after a long night of binge watching Novela’s with Splinter–he would curl up, head in his father’s lap, limbs held tight to his body. Like he was afraid even that was asking for too much.

Raphael, his poor, eldest son, hadn’t sat with him in so long. Splinter could still remember a little turtle tot in red, climbing up and splaying out onto his lap when he needed a good cry–or just a moment of peace from his much too loud siblings. Sadly, it wasn’t long before his Red was too big, and his father too small to provide such a refuge. The last time Raphael needed consoling; after the Krang, Splinter had been forced to climb up onto his own son’s knees in order to reach and wipe away his tears.

In the few rare instances of Purple seeking out physical touch, this was all he would allow. Legs stretched over his father’s lap, but his upper body was always off limits. Pulled just far enough away from the threat of any sort of long term contact.

Splinter used to wonder if Purple was scared to ask for anything more, like Leonardo, or if he thought depriving himself of a comforting hug would make him seem stronger, like Raphael, or even the rare times when Michelangelo wished to appear more mature and refused to be comforted. Eventually, Splinter caught on to the truth. His son was asking for comfort, in his own unique way. He was content with the minimal amount of closeness, as long as he felt like he was able to dictate the terms.

But one thing Purple would always allow his father to do, was loop his fingers around his ankles. Trusting the grip would hold his legs in place and keep him stable. He once said the pressure was small enough that it wasn’t overwhelming, but strong enough that it could ground him when everything became too much.

Even now, the act of reaching out to pull his son’s long legs up had been so instinctive. When Splinter looks over and sees the uncertainty still on Purple’s face, he knows he’s pushed too far too quickly.

It’s a risky move, but he’s already pushed, and it’s something that never fails, not once since he’s discovered it.

Purple has always been the most ticklish of all his brothers. Another thing that never really helped his sensory issues. But Splinter long ago discovered that there was a particular spot, which could always earn him a giggle and a brighter smile.

Splinter grips the meat of Donatello’s right knee and jiggles it back and forth. The silly action seems to do the trick and knocks something loose in his son’s overwrought head. His gamble pays off spectacularly, and Splinter is overjoyed to see a small smile erase most of the uncertainty clouding Donatello’s face. It isn’t a full peal of laughter, but the wariness makes way for something softer, and the huff of air from his nose is just as rewarding as a full body laugh.

His boy rests his shoulder and head onto the cushioned back of the chair and Splinter presses the button that will lift up the leg rest, and recline them both into a more restful position.

After a few moments of quiet, Donatello slowly pulls his phone from the pocket of his hoodie. Even without looking directly at him, Splinter can feel his son watching and waiting for the reprimand he thinks will come. Instead, Splinter raises the volume of his show just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough to completely shatter their peace. He wants to make Purple feel more at ease; like he’s not being constantly surveilled–not providing more overstimulation.

They sit like that for some time. Splinter rubs a thumb back and forth across the meatier part of Donatello's calves. He’s learned that repetitive touch is the best kind of grounding technique for Purple. The patterned motion always worked to calm his nerves.

Even still, after only so long Splinter catches Purple lowering his phone.

He keeps his own gaze forward, locked on his commercials. Splinter can see, without looking, that his son is studying him, trying to take apart something in his mind that he doesn’t understand. Splinter allows him all the time he needs to gather his thoughts.

Finally Purple speaks, “Dad…?” It’s so quiet, if Splinter hadn't been waiting for it, he might’ve missed it.

He pauses the repetitive kneading for just a moment, squeezing his hold, and humming in order to prompt his son to continue his thought.

“Can I tell you something?” The inquiry is whispered to him so delicately. It takes everything in him to keep his face open and soft and his movements steady. It’s clear that Donatello is trying his best to remain aloof, but his gaze is locked on his hands that are settled in his lap, the fingers of one pulling on the digits from his other.

At some point he must’ve put his phone completely away. Splinter feels the pressure of having Donatello's complete focus aimed at him.

The tugging intensifies. Splinter wonders if he should reach out, but he’s not sure how well that would be received. It doesn’t look painful just yet.

“I don't know what Kendra is accomplishing by showing me this.” Donatello growls, suddenly digging his palms into his eyes like he can still feel the weight of the screen blocking his vision. “Trying to make me happy, only to rip it all away from me? Or attempting to make me feel, even more like a useless burden than I was?”

It’s the first crack in his armor that Purple has shown in days. A clear sign that he was not as unaffected by Kendra’s lies as he’d been trying to project. Donatello sighs, but as it dies out Splinter thinks it sounds closer to a sob.

“You can’t tell the others…” Donatello looks at him with wet, desperate eyes, and it’s unclear if his son still doubts who he’s speaking to, but Splinter works to ease his fears all the same.

“I swear, whatever you tell me will remain between us, alone.”

Donatello nods faintly, eyes trailing downwards once more. Splinter may have had trouble before, but now the many emotions jumping across his son’s face—fear, shame, frustration, all are easy to catch.

With a shaking breath he whispers his secret. “I lied.” He’s crying now, real tears that he doesn’t even bother to wipe away. The pulling at his skin grows more violent, and Splinter finally interferes to carefully pry Donatello’s hands apart before damage is done. In place he cradles his son’s hands like delicate porcelain and runs a thumb over Donatello’s palm.

“I told everyone that I could tell. That I wasn’t being fooled, but that’s not exactly true. The last few loops have…it’s been getting harder, and harder to remember things— how they really happened. Too much is…plausible.”

Splinter keeps silent. This confession has clearly been weighing on Donatello. He deserves to get it all out, and hopefully feel lighter for it. Even if Purple suspects the family, something is letting Donatello open up enough for him to share his fears.

“There was one loop…Mikey broke…he broke the remote…When I said I didn’t have time to fix it. He threw the pieces at my head. He would never do that, though…right?”

“No, of course not,” Splinter answers immediately, quick to banish the doubt from his son’s mind. Donatello only blinks at him, like his thoughts are moving too slow, and cannot comprehend such a simple, stark contradiction to what he experienced.

“It felt so real…it all feels so real. But…I could feel how one of the sharp, broken corners had cut through my mask and how the wet fabric stuck to my skin with blood.”

Donatello raises a hand and touches the spot where the phantom wound must’ve sat. The pain now gone, but the memory of it haunts his eyes and rattles the tremors building in his hands.

“I thought…I thought I was handling this—maybe not well…But I’d hoped I would be strong enough to last until you all came for me…And now Raph is saying it’s already over.”

It’s a simplified form of the truth which they had tried to get Purple to believe, but even that much clearly doesn’t sit well with him. “If it is over, why does my body feel like one massive bruise? How did you all find me? How long did I last? Was I in there long enough to…?”

He’s clearly scared to ask Splinter any more questions, so he trails off, curling in on himself and pulling his hands up to his chest, pressing there, as if checking to make sure he feels something still beating.

Splinter decides he’s waited long enough and slowly pulls Donatello out of his hunched ball and guides his head to his own chest, making sure his ear is aligned against his own pulsing heartbeat.

Donatello resists slightly at first, but the moment he’s close enough to catch the sound, his breath catches and he glues himself to the spot.

“I don’t want to be there anymore,” Purple murmurs. It sounds like sleep is catching up with his son, the exhaustion pulling him down and slurring his words.

Splinter cups the back of Donatello’s head and carefully tug his fur lined blanket down from where it’s been sitting on the back of his chair. The blanket slots over the both of them and Donatello curls even closer to his father, tucking himself into his warmth.

“Go to sleep, when you wake up, you will be right here.” He’s sure to say it softly but with as much reassurance as possible, and Donatello seems too tired at this point to hold onto his doubts.

“Okay…,” Donatello mutters. Then, practically hanging on to the waking world for one final query hesitantly asks, “…Dad?…Do you love me?”

Splinter doesn’t even think. “Of course, my son.”

Donatello’s breathing finally evens out, and Splinter feels a few tears finally escape.

He’s not sure what next steps they should take, or what kind of state his son will be in when he wakes, but Splinter can only hope this is progress. He prays it won’t be undone…but regardless, Donatello is home. Any steps back or forward will be taken together, and that is the most important part.

[dickgraysonsbitch]

MOTH TO A FLAME — DICK GRAYSON X JOURNALIST!READER

3.3k words | divider by @cafekitsune | requests open !

summary: your relationship with dick grayson was history two years ago. as of yesterday, you were (not so) happily engaged to another man, and your relationship with him was swoon-worthy, but it seems like it could crumble like a house of cards. so when your perfect ex comes back into your life for help on a case, will you go back to him like a moth to a flame?

you’re just a moth to a flame.

you were engaged. you knew this, this wasn’t new fucking information, and you were supposed to feel elated, on top of the world, like you were on cloud nine or some other shit people in love said—wait, no. you were in love with your fiancé, or at least you tried to be. he was sweet, and he looked good, with his fluffy blonde hair, deep brown eyes, and lean figure. nerd hot. just your type, but why did it seem like as every day went on, you kept trying to convince yourself that this was what you wanted?

you stretched your arms before lugging yourself out of bed, grabbing your phone to check your messages, which you assumed were the reason that your phone was buzzing so much that it was about to fall off your dresser.

PHOTOS NOTIFICATION: november, 2021, AMUSEMENT MILE THEME PARK. do you want to share this memory with DICKIEBIRD 💙?

you pressed your mouth into a line, reminiscing. that was probably the best time you’d ever had in your entire life. you, dick, wally and artemis, eating cotton candy and popcorn at an amusement park.

“one more bite of food and you’re going into carnival crime territory, wally,” you sing, your voice carrying its signature teasing lilt. “then i’m going to win, and you’ll have to pay for everything.”

“just make your stupid boyfriend pay, he’s the billionaire!” wally's disgruntled groan came from a foot behind you, were he was still struggling on his second milkshake. sucker.

dick threw an arm around your shoulder, spreading a hint of warmth over your torso. he was, as you liked to call him, your personal space heater. “hey, it’s the son of a billionaire. and i’d much rather see my super sexy girlfriend beat my best friend’s ass.”

artemis grinned, her phone ready to snap a picture of when wally would undisputedly hurl like a toddler who had eaten too many gerber puffs. “me too, so hurry up, wally.”

the memory of dick throwing up because of the amount of sugar he had consumed in the short span of three hours almost had you laughing out loud, with your fiancé in the bed right next to you. god, you were so pathetic.

“something funny?” his low voice was next to your ear, and you could almost feel his breath on your neck, but for some reason, you wanted to push him away.

your breath hitched, and the guilt crept into your heart again. you were in bed with your fiancé, and you were daydreaming about your ex-boyfriend, who probably forgot your existence. dick was charming, but even you knew that he had a steady stream of people on call to fuck. one of the plus sides to being the hottest person in blüdhaven, you guessed.

“uh, just checking the group chat. girl stuff, matt, you can’t see it.” your mouth twisted into a mischievous smirk, and you quickly stood up and walked towards the shower, rapidly checking the group chat that you opened up your phone for. curse dick grayson and his beautiful blue eyes, which were obviously the only reason you stared that that picture for so long. not the lovesick look he had on his face when looking at you, and definitely not his flirty smile when you made eye contact with him. that would be crazy, right?

maybe you should finally open the group chat.

rue: so how’d your night go?? 😉

annie: i bet she’s so tired that she can’t even walkkk

charlie: ofc she can’t, it’s matt myers!! he’s so fine 😩😩

the conversation then devolved into a discussion of which of matt’s photoshoots was the ‘hottest’, which should’ve made any other, self respecting friend group shy away from the conversation, but never rue, annie and charlie. no, they said that matt was too ‘sexy’ to be quiet about, and it was like they were waiting for you to mess up just to take your place. the sad part was that you wouldn’t mind letting them.

you had met matt, ironically, at a wayne gala that you were covering post breakup with dick, which was the only way that you measured time nowadays. he was hot enough to be… a rebound, and you were okay with that, until he started hounding you for a date. one date, two dates, and suddenly, a year and a half later, you were engaged. the next step, obviously (in matt's words), was the whole white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and living the rest of your days in your dream house. if it was so obvious, why did it make your stomach curdle like you had a flu? why did the idea of kids with matt, being bonded to him for life, make you want to toss your stupid ring at his face, pack your bags, and run? did he even know why your favorite color was dark blue? did matt myers know that the reason that the sapphire stone on your ring was because of dick grayson?

you glanced at your fiancé before looking at your phone and sighing. “matt, i'm going out for some fresh air.” your heart panged. maybe you should give matt some slack, because after all, he picked up the pieces of you after dick so abruptly left. maybe he was better than what you gave him credit for. maybe the two of you would work long term, and you could go the white picket fence with him. it couldn’t hurt. “wanna come with?”

“nah. get me some seaweed chips though, from erewhon. we ran out.” matt shot you a badly timed wink, which made you grimace, and in that moment, you realized a very disturbing fact. nobody could make your blood pump like dick grayson, and no matter who you were with, there would only be one man on your mind.

sighing, you quickly changed into a ratty hoodie and leggings, making sure you weren’t in some sort of nightmare dream that you weren’t able to get out of. because that was your dream, right? being engaged to an incredibly attractive, talented and kind person, and spending the rest of your life with him? you gave yourself a short pep talk in the mirror—“you are hot! everyone wants you! you are engaged!”—before slipping on your shoes and calculating the distance to blüdhaven’s nearest erewhon, which was an easy twenty minute walk away. maybe you could thank matt for the exercise that he was always hounding you to do.

step. step. step. your walk turned into the same banal rotation of the past year and a half of your life, always the same thing over and over, and the thought of what your life might have been like if you had just stayed clung in your mind like cobwebs. unwanted, unnecessary, but it made your heart ache just a little bit to get rid of them.

erewhon came faster than you expected it to, and you stepped inside, the chilly air hitting your face like a wall of ice, and you grabbed a basket, picking up those chips matt loved. he was safe. safe and comfortable, but why did safe and comfortable suddenly feel like boring and predictable?

you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflective glass of the door, yearning to see the bright eyed, excitable girl that existed only a few years ago, but all you saw was… you. drained, unhappy, a permanent frown on your face. you attempted a smile, pulling your mouth from both sides, but the result was only a mix of a grimace and a clown’s toothy grin. you couldn’t smile right either.

your phone pinged, and a blue heart showed up on your screen. you hadn’t texted him in two years, but the icon still made your heart flutter with anticipation, before your squashed it like a bug under a boot.

DICKIEBIRD 💙: hey smartie pants! i need to talk to u about something important. let’s meet at 0900 at lux?

you bit your lip. the pros of this: you could finally get closure. dick grayson was hard to get ahold of, but maybe this was your chance to ask him—why did the two of you not work? was it you? was it him? or was it his true first love, nightwing?

you: hey. does 0930 work? i’m out running errands right now.

a beat.

DICKIEBIRD 💙: yeah! miss u lots, btw. see you then!

two hours later, after you had dropped off matt’s life-sustaining seaweed chips for a disgruntled “thanks, babe” in return, you walked into lux, your favorite sweater and skirt combo clinging onto you like a second skin. you’d worn a different, light blue dress on instinct, but you quickly realized that the dress you had picked out was dick’s favorite, so it immediately out of the question. shame, it was a damn hot dress.

“hey!” you heard a cheery voice from behind you. he said your name like it came off easy, like you hadn’t been each other’s confidants once upon a time. he said your name the way you wished that you could say his, with no meaning attached behind it. “it’s been so long, and you look great!” his eyes flicked to the stone on your left hand ring finger, and you could swear that his face fell the smallest amount, but if he felt anything, he didn’t tell you.

you didn’t have the same self control that he did. his name fluttered off of your tongue like a prayer, like he was a god and your only chance at salvation. “dick… um… hi. yeah, you look great too, but i guess enough people tell you that on a daily basis.”

“well, i hope you’re getting complemented just as much. what, your fiancé not doing it for you anymore, or is that just a pretty rock?” he grinned, his dimples highlighted by the dim light in the club. you suddenly kicked yourself for even showing up. how could he read you like a book by only looking at you for a minute or two, max?

your eyes widened, heart beating out of your chest. “uh, i mean… i’m engaged. matt. that’s his name. matt myers.”

as if reading your mind, dick’s smile fell, and he placed a comforting hand on your forearm. “hey, i didn’t mean anything by the pretty rock comment, okay? don’t stress, i’m not here to seduce you.” oh, dick. what you’d give for him to say the opposite. “i’m actually here about a case. not bruce related, by the way. my usual case partner on this one is having a little trouble, so i thought…” he shrugged, because telling you that you were a backup didn’t break his heart, not like being on the receiving end broke yours. it wasn’t a shatter, just a tiny crack to the ones that he’d been adding all this time.

“yeah, i can help you out. what’s up?” you tried to seem nonchalant, but maybe the pain seeped through your voice. you wouldn’t count it against your terrible emotional regulation skills, but a small part of you was itching to help—to get back into the routine that truly sparked fire in you, instead of the rabbit food conversations that had matt jumping around like it was Christmas.

dick pulled out a variety of manila folders, labeled with a variety of female names on them, and a type of flower. he pinched three different photos of the victims, you were assuming, who were mauled and then arranged into neat shapes, with their hands crossed over their chest like mummies, and a clean, crisp white flower placed on top of them. the flowers were all different species’, you noted, with some including a white rose, a white poppy, and a white petunia.

“what do you have so far?” your voice came off far too eager, far too fast and far too interested. no, this was a favor he was coming to you for, so why did it feel like you were a caged bird that could finally sing, stretch it’s wings and soar into the sky without inhibitions? dick pressed his lips together, running a hand though his tousled, raven hair. god, what you’d give to have the chance to do that one more time. maybe dick was right when he broke up with you, because if you couldn’t even control yourself when you had a fiancé, how did he know that you could handle being with him?

he hesitated—it was evident in the way that he froze before trying to say something again. perhaps he was also thinking about the other times that you helped him with his cases, spending late nights poring over pictures and elaborate pictures, only to end up watching the real housewives of beverly hills instead. or maybe he was rethinking, questioning, even, why he had even involved you in the first place. you wouldn’t hold it against him; you’d always been too interested for your own good.

“close to nothing. no prints, no dna, just these flowers, whatever they mean. i wanted to know if you could reach out to shy of your sources—see if they know anything. they’ve been helpful before.” his voice sounded tired, not the usual, cheery voice he pasted onto himself. it made you feel a bit better, if you could call it that, that he didn’t feel the need to pretend to be the golden wayne child in front of you. or maybe you were delusional in your belief that he’d even let his facade drop.

you bit your lip, and twisted the dark blue engagement ring on your finger absentmindedly. “is this a nightwing problem, or an officer grayson problem? because that makes a difference in which sources i use.”

dick grinned, and you were mostly sure that it was genuine, with a flash of teeth distracting you from the issue at hand (which was more like the issue on your left hand ring finger) but dick had always had that effect on you. “thinking about breaking the law, future mrs gr—future pulitzer prize winner? to answer your question, if you think about it,” he started, “it’s a both problem.” his face fell, and the wide smile that was there moments ago disappeared so fast that you almost thought that you imagined it. “they’ve started personally targeting people in my family. cass and damian both noticed a tail when they were walking out in the city, and i would be worried if they weren’t, you know, the deadliest people in gotham, but if anything happened to them, i don’t know if i'd be able to forgive myself. or worse, alfred…”

the look on his face is anguished, as if he’s imagining a lifetime of pain being inflicted on his family, and you know that he’s rather take it himself than let anything happen to them. “dick, don’t worry, okay? alfred is probably more dangerous than anyone in your family combined, and i say that after i've met cass and steph. nothing’s going to happen to them. we’re going to find this psycho, then we’re going to get justice for the victims and their families.” you reach out to touch his arm, but the moment your skin makes contact with his, you pull back like his forearm was on fire.

nodding, he looks back up at you, his eyes filled with an admiration you haven’t seen in quite a while. “yeah, i’m overreacting, right? and it’s not like they won’t be able to defend themselves. cass could probably kick my ass on one of her bad days.” he shudders. “she’s awesome and all, but scary as hell.”

you laugh, finally at ease, not on edge about what you’re saying or about to do. “yeah, well, clearly you’ve never seen her in the same room as a full english breakfast. i remember this one time that she came over to our apartment after patrol, and this was at three o’clock in the morning, okay? she walks in, starts getting the eggs out of our fridge…” your eyes catch a glimpse at dick’s face. he’s smiling, his face satiated and truly… happy. how long has it been since you looked like that? the earlier morning comes into your mind, and you stammer, recollecting how you looked in the glass of the fridge at the store. like a broken woman rather than the girl that you used to be.

now it’s dick’s turn to take your hand into his, and rub it gently, the way that he always used to do when you were nervous before taking one of your tests in university, or when you utterly messed up cooking dinner. it meant that he was here for you, that he would be there no matter what, but a small part of your brain wanted to question him nonetheless; if he had left you before, he would leave you again. that was the rule, the past precedent that he had kept for himself, and if he had wanted to stay, he would’ve.

his thumb brushes over your engagement ring, the one that you and forgotten even existed and now felt heavier on your finger than a ton of bricks, the one that your fiancé had given to you as a token of trust. you couldn’t break the one promise you had left, but clearly, dick must have been thinking the same thing. he pulled his hand away the moment he touched the ring, and looked at you with a guilty expression. “so… how long have you guys been…”

“last night.” you said, not an ounce of warmth in your voice. there never was, when it came to matt. it was more like a dry tone of obligation than anything else.

dick’s eyes widened, shame seeping into his expression. “i'm so sorry, sw—i mean, you shouldn’t be here on your engagement day. we can talk some other time, or i can send you—”

“if i didn’t want to be here, dick, i wouldn’t be.”

“good to know.” he smiled, before turning his attention back to the folder in his hands. “hey, i have to go. we’ll keep in touch, alright?” he stands up, about to lean in for a hug, but you stick your arm out, ready to shake his hand. cold and impersonal, but it wasn’t like you were doing a good job of that in the first place.

the two of you settle for a half hug-half handshake combination, somehow making the situation more awkward than it already was. he send you a crooked grin, and it cements itself in your brain, another blip of dick grayson in your grey life. maybe… maybe this isn’t a bad idea after all, and maybe you could rein in your emotions just to see a little more of him, his dark blue eyes haunting your dreams like an apparition. you could sacrifice that and so much more just to have his eyes in your life.

“see you later, right?” you smiled, the muscles in your face contracting in that direction for the first time in a few weeks, perhaps. oh, the things that he did to your poor heart. he waved, mouthing a quick bye to you before picking up a call on his phone, and you could hear a stern ‘jason’ before he vanished, out of earshot, out of sight, but not out of your mind.

you started on your path back home, deciding against taking a taxi when the fares would be the highest. maybe it was just an eerie coincidence on your part, but you swore that there was something behind you, a pair of eyes tracking your every move. you would have cast it aside as paranoia, but it was sending a creeping shiver up your spine, terrifying you to your very bones. perhaps that is what happens when one works on a murder case.

you brushed it off, but the feeling of eyes on your back did not dissipate.

ooh spooky right? does anyone fancy a part two for this one or nah?

[hannyoontify]

your cherry flavored kisses - choi seungcheol

member | basketball player!seungcheol x student medic!reader ft. the rest of svt

genre | fluff, high school!au, established relationship!au, secret dating!au(?)

word count | 2.8k

synopsis | as his mom always said, kisses are the best kind of medicine for boo-boos

warnings | cursing, kissing, minor injuries, one joke about sex, reader is a bit shy when it comes to relationships and pda, a bunch of romantic cliches but pls js let me have this one 🥲

notes | realized that i can’t write intimate scenes for shit!!!! but also happy (late) birthday to the best leader!! hope your day was full of laughter and love because you deserve all of it and more <33

The entire gym seemed to grimace collectively when Player #1 was shoved over by the opposing team member, and so did you. Choi Seungcheol, the captain and star player of your school’s varsity basketball team rolled over onto his back, clutching his knee and face scrunched up in pain. 

The stands booed when the zebra-patterned referee blew his whistle and signaled it as not a foul. Students and other on-lookers from both sides began to yell, petitioning that it was a flagrant foul, but the referee stood his ground. You and your friend Vernon ran out onto the basketball court with the stretcher as your school’s head coach tried to reason with the referee.

“Hey, hey. Seungcheol, where does it hurt?” Vernon asked as you set down the stretcher. You reached over and scooped your hands under the sweaty athlete’s shoulders, ready to lift him into the gurney. When you first joined your school’s new sports medicine and therapy program, you thought no one actually used the medical device and the school had invested in one just for show. Obviously, you now stand corrected.

“The area-” The brunette gasped for air. Every square inch of his face was glistening in sweat, the collar of his jersey absolutely soaked through. Seungcheol had been giving it his all this entire game, scoring almost 21 points and it was only halfway through the second period. This aggravated the opposing team, who were losing exponentially, enough for them to push Seungcheol over when he was dribbling down the court. “The area below my knee cap. Hurts like a bitch.”

Vernon nodded in understanding and glanced over at you. You returned his gaze with a determined nod of your head and the two of you gently lifted shifted him onto the carrier. 

“Sorry. Would try to help but-” Seungcheol’s words were cut off with a loud groan. “Can’t. Right now.”

You tightened your lips at the sight of his face stricken with pain and with the help of Vernon, heaved him up and carried the injured player out of the gym to the nurse’s office.

Once Seungcheol was laid down on a cot, Vernon ran off to find Ms. Jung, the school nurse who had momentarily left her post to “get some fresh air” while you looked for an ice pack. As soon your friend left the room, Seungcheol grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer from where he was lying down, forcing you to sit on the edge of the cot he was lying on.

You rolled your eyes and tried to pull away but he kept an iron grip on your wrist as he tried his best to make eye contact with you. “Are you mad at me?” He asked with a small pout.

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You huffed, refusing to face his direction. From where he was lying, Seungcheol could catch a glimpse of your side profile. Your lips were jutted out into a firm pout and your cheeks puffed out. 

“I’m sorry, love. I tried to take it easy but you know how I get-”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just… don’t like seeing you get hurt,” You said, in a much softer voice this time. “Damn you and your competitiveness. It doesn’t hurt to lose sometimes, you know.”

Seungcheol smiled when you turned around to finally face him. “Look at me, I’m all fine! I was just fibbing on the court to- OW WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Your boyfriend yelled out in pain when you poked at his knee, right below the kneecap where he said it was hurting earlier. “Fibbing, my ass. Stay here while I get an ice pack.”

Seungcheol whimpered in pain, rolling around on his back with his arms clenched around his leg while you searched through the mini freezer. He watched from behind, staring at your hunched over form. Despite the extreme pain he was currently feeling, he felt a warm feeling blossom in his chest that spread throughout his body all the way past his limbs to the tips of his fingers. God, he cared for you so much.

“Here, I think we ran out of ice packs so you have to use this bag of peas,” You came back with half a bag of iced peas, offering it to your boyfriend who looked up at you with teary heart eyes. 

(FYI, they were only teary because he was in immense pain.)

After sitting up, Seungcheol accepted the makeshift ice pack and pressed to his knee, knowing how to treat his injuries better than you or any other sports medicine and therapy student. You sat down next to him, gathering your knees close to your chest and lightly resting your head on his shoulder. It felt like your heart was going to leap out of your throat because of your close proximity.

You’ve had a crush on Choi Seungcheol for as long as you can remember. In elementary school, you found yourself drawn to him because of how he selflessly gave away all of his candy during lunch. (Looking back on it now, you might’ve been attracted to the candy not him, but that makes it sound less romantic so you like to leave that part out). In middle school, you always caught yourself staring in his direction because he was good. He excelled at whatever he did. He always knew the answers in math and shared interesting perspectives in English for a middle schooler. But he shone in gym class. Choi Seungcheol looked invincible with a ball in his hands, somehow pulling off the tacky and scratchy gym clothes that smelled like a mix of sweat and old socks. It was in eighth grade when you started doodling ‘[Name] Choi’ in the back of your math notebook before erasing frantically whenever your teacher walked by.

In high school, it was no different, except Choi Seungcheol just got really, really tall and really, really, really attractive. He was scouted into the school’s junior varsity basketball team as a freshman and became a point guard for the varsity team as a sophomore. He was completely out of your league. Choi Seungcheol was the star player of your school’s basketball team while you were just a staff member in your school’s newspaper. The closest you’ve ever gotten to Choi Seungcheol was when you assisted Seokmin in interviewing him after winning a game. 

That was, until this past summer. You were taking summer school classes to make room for sports med. and therapy in your schedule, and your seat partner was none other than Choi Seungcheol, who had failed Economics the semester before. It took you by surprise that the smartest boy you knew since third grade had failed a class, but you thought it was impressive that he even managed to take Economics as a junior. 

You found yourself bonding with the star player, joking around during class and taking turns to take naps so someone could take notes while the other slept. The system worked, and the teacher looked like they weren’t being paid enough to be there, so the two of you considered it a win. The entire summer flew by like that, talking and hanging out with Seungcheol, even outside of class. This was when you learned about his performance anxiety, his self-doubt, and the pressure he feels from not only his coach and teammates but also the rest of the school. You offered him the most comfort you could possibly muster; a few words of encouragement and a big, big hug. 

When Seungcheol asked you out on the last day of summer school, you didn’t see it coming at all. From what you knew, he only recently broke up with his past girlfriend, the captain of the cheer team. Everyone had said that they were like a match made in heaven, but evidently not, considering how messy their breakup was. But who were you to say no?

Fast forward two months, to your current situation. You guys weren’t intentionally keeping the relationship a secret, rather you were just shy and Seungcheol understood that. He promised you to wait patiently until you were ready. 

“Can I see your knee?” You asked softly. Seungcheol nodded and took off the bag of peas, revealing his now bruised knee. The skin was discolored in different shades of blue, black, dark purple, and green and you drew in a sharp breath. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Seungcheol pouted and pointed to his cheek, where he had a small nick, probably a scratch from the other player as he fell. You smiled and cautiously brought your hand up to his face. Despite having been dating for well over 2 months, PDA still felt a bit awkward for you. You occasionally held hands and hugged, and you liked to rest your head on his broad shoulders. Seeing Seungcheol’s face this close to yours made your stomach erupt into butterflies and you could feel the heat quickly spreading up to your cheeks.

“Let’s get some ointment on this,” You left your spot and began digging through the medicine cabinets, ignoring the hot burning on the apples of your cheeks. Going through every cabinet except the one that actually held the ointment, you talked loudly to yourself and Seungcheol held back a laugh at the sight. He thought it was cute, how flustered you got at the smallest amounts of physical touch. “Here it is!”

You ceremoniously held up the treatment and bandage box up in the air with a triumphant grin and Seungcheol couldn’t help but return the smile. Sitting back down next to him, you ignored the fluttering in your stomach again as you dabbed on the ointment onto your boyfriend’s face, trying your absolute hardest not to stare into his dark, chocolate-y brown eyes or his pretty pink lips-

“[Name], sweetheart, the scratch is on the other side,” Seungcheol said softly and you wanted to dig a hole, crawl into it and stay there forever. Your lover simply chuckled at your quiet ‘sorry’. “You’re cute.”

Now you really need to dig a hole. This was getting too much for you.

“Psh. Whatever,” You mumbled under your breath as you finished applying the treatment and brought out the bandage kit. “Stay still or else I won’t finish treating you.”

Seungcheol tried his best not to move when he felt your fingers lightly grazing his skin, sending shivers down his spine. It tickled, and he giggled.

You bit back a smile and lightly hit him in his shoulder for laughing. “I told you not to move.” 

“I couldn’t help it! It tickles,” With a small shake of your head, you put the kit away and sat back down next to him. Seungcheol stared at you for a minute before speaking again. “[Name], I think you’re forgetting something.”

You looked at Seungcheol with a confused look. “What do you mean?”

He crossed his arms across his chest with a pout. “Aren’t I supposed to get a lollipop for being a good patient?”

God, he was not good for your heart.

“How could I possibly forget?” With a fond smile, you handed him a bright red heart shaped candy on a stick. “You have been a good boy, have a lollipop!”

Seungcheol’s eyes twinkled at your reference to one of his favorite movies and gratefully took the candy. “Okay, now one last thing.”

“What?”

He pointed towards his injured knee. “You need to kiss it to make it feel better! It’s a part of the official medical procedure. My mom said so, and she’s a nurse.”

You rolled your eyes at your boyfriend’s childish antics but nonetheless bent over to kiss his knee. “And when’s the last time she’s said that to you?”

Seungcheol thought about it. “When I was four or five. But it’s you, so it’s gonna work, I promise,” He beamed triumphantly and pointed towards his right wrist, where he had injured it last season. “Here too.”

Thus began a little game, where Seungcheol pointed at all of his injuries, new and old, and you would follow wherever his finger pointed to kiss it and make it feel better. It was his knee, then his wrist, his elbow, his shoulder blade, his collar, all the way up to his cheek.

Your face is inches away from Seungcheol’s and you were pretty sure he could hear your accelerating heartbeat that thrummed loudly in your chest and ears. The sudden close proximity makes your breath hitch as you glance down at the candy stick that stuck out past his pretty lips. The warmth that radiated off his body sent chills down yours as you locked eyes with him. 

You felt sick. You really, really needed to dig a hole.

With your hands fidgeting in your lap, you leaned in closer, almost feeling drawn to his presence, like a moth drawn to a light or a sailor drawn to the sweet melodies of a siren’s voice. You wondered if Seungcheol would also lead you to your demise, just like those sirens. 

He leans in even more, his warm breath ghosting over your lips. The lollipop was nowhere to be found but you could still smell the overly sweet artificial cherry flavor and you licked your lips. If you moved just the slightest bit, your lips would graze his. 

“Cheol... can I kiss you?” The words leave your mouth without thinking and you want to kick yourself. 

Seungcheol pulls away for a second to get a better look at you, his eyes darting between your eyes and your lips. “I’d be pretty sad if you didn’t.”

That was all the confirmation you needed before you screwed your eyes shut and pressed your lips against his. You felt your teeth knock against his and you winced, but Seungcheol didn’t seem to mind. His hands naturally find the side of your face and waist as he gently pulls you in deeper into the kiss. Your hands remain in your lap, ever fidgeting and fussing at the new feeling. 

His lips tasted like cherry. A swirling combination of the cherry flavored lollipop and his cherry flavored chapstick he always wore before his games. He claimed that his lips get chapped easily during the game when you questioned him about it once. You decided that this was your new favorite flavor. Combined with the feeling of his soft lips against yours, you wondered how you made it this far without kissing him. 

Seungcheol pulls away hesitantly, his hands still on their respective places on your cheek and waist. “Too much?”

You shake your head with a smile. “You taste like cherries. I like it.”

He took that as a sign to continue and pulled you back in. This time you were prepared and angled your face so as to not bump your teeth with his again. You smiled into the kiss, the fluttering feeling in your stomach making you feel even more giddy than before. One hand slowly made their way onto Seungcheol’s shoulder, gripping onto his jersey as his lips captured yours.

“So that’s why our captain’s been in a good mood lately.”

You basically shriek as you frantically pull away from Seungcheol, who seemed just as surprised to see his entire (sweaty) team standing by the entrance. In the front leading the group was Yoon Jeonghan, another star player who co-captained the team and Seungcheol’s best friend. He stood by the doorway with his arms crossed, an amused smirk pulling at his lips. You could see the rest of his teammates standing behind him, noticing Mingyu and Soonyoung who seemed excited out of their minds to catch their captain in love.

“Go awayyyy,” Seungcheol complained, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. “Go bother someone else, I was doing something!”

You heard someone mumble, “More like doing someone,” that was immediately covered up with a cough.

“I heard that, Boo Seungkwan.” 

Jeonghan uncrossed his arms and took a step back. “We all came to check up on you but it seems like you got all the kisses you need to make your boo-boo feel better. I expect you to be on that court once halftime is over!”

You basked in the silence that followed soon after the 10 rowdy boys left. Guess the cat was out of the bag then.

“... Can I seriously play after halftime?”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Choi Seungcheol?!”

“Sorry, sorry! It was a joke!” A moment of silence before, “Can I kiss you again?” 

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

[majinbangus]

What happens when soap's on again and off again gf finds out he got someone else pregnant? And do you think she would try to keep him from his children and reader?

Also I hope Soap tells his mom and she chews him out for not being better to reader 😭 (I also want Soap's mom know already that she's going to be a grandma to twins and just kept it from Johnny for reader's health too.)

i struggled with this one, but it turned out hopeful in the end i hope its good

"What're you doing here?"

You don't know what hurts more: the way he said that as if he doesn't want you there (which he probably doesn't; you don't want to be there, either, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt any less), or the apprehensive look he doesn't bother masking. He's never really been one to hide his emotions, but would it have killed him to pretend to be on amicable terms with you for at least a couple of hours? Dumbass.

"I'm doing great, MacTavish, thanks for asking." You go for an overly friendly inflection, but anyone listening in would be able to hear the biting undertone in your sarcasm. "How have you been? Wonderful, you say? That's absolutely grand. Glad to hear it. Truly, thank you for taking the time to welcome me into your home."

You attempt a smile, but from the way Soap's expression pinches at it, it more than likely comes off as a poorly veiled scowl. You can't bring yourself to care. You're more focused on keeping yourself from breaking down, rubbing your hand almost obsessively over your belly, trying to calm yourself with the soothing motion. Soap looks down at it, face flashing with something. You're tempted to call it regret. Whether that's for knocking you up or for hurting you just now or something else entirely, you have no clue. He clenches his fists.

"... Does my family know that you're... that I'm..?"

That's what he's concerned about? Fucking prick. You're half-tempted to announce it to his whole family now. You didn't even want to be at his family gathering in the first place, but Mrs. MacTavish insisted, and you adore his mother (so much so that you’re afraid of her, too). It's been months since you last saw all the MacTavishes in person (for obvious reasons), and you know if you refused another invitation, the woman, though getting up there in age, would've dragged you to the party herself.

You rub your belly a tad faster, and his eyes dart down to the anxious movement again. "No, MacTavish, your family does not know you got me pregnant, so you can stop worrying. I... wasn't planning on telling them. Not now, at least. Or ever. I don’t know. I’m still thinking about stuff."

Perhaps it's the right call, perhaps not (it most likely isn’t), but the tension that visibly leaks out of his body offends you. 

"That's... probably for the best,” He exhales slowly.

“For you or for me?” You snark and he at least has the decency to wince.

“Hen… Princess–”

“Don’t call me that.” You curl your lips at him, teeth bared. A bitter kind of hurt grinds within your chest. He only called you that once before. For one night. It meant nothing to him, but everything to you. “Don’t pretend to care; you never called back to talk like we agreed. You’re such a prick, MacTavish.” 

“You never reached out, either,” He shoots back with a defensive frown that doesn’t feel justified. “And I have a reason for not calling back earlier…”

“Was that reason your girlfriend?”

His silence is telling.

You scoff with a derisive laugh. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Hey, it’s not like that,” He tries to protest, but you remain staunch in your acrimony. 

“Sure, it’s not.” You roll your eyes. “If it isn’t anything else, then what is it?”

“We,” Soap hesitates, breaking eye contact to focus on where your hand is on your stomach. He swallows, rephrasing himself. “After our phone call, I brought up what happened between us… Tried to explain what happened… Communicate with her since that was always a problem we had.”

“And?” You prompt after he falls silent for a few seconds, though you think you can predict where this story is going.

“She didn’t take it well.” He continues, “We’ve been fighting about it. Trying to come to a compromise, but she’d rather I cut contact with you.”

“You… don’t want that?” You smother any bit of hope you feel. You have to.

He doesn’t answer the question verbally, merely shaking his head. It doesn’t feel like a good enough response, but you can’t push him on it because then he’s talking again. “We’re not wanting the same things. Every conversation about it–” about you “–turns into an argument, and we’ve decided to…”

“Go on a break?” You fill in, but he shakes his head again, avoiding your gaze.

“I think it’s permanent this time.”

Oh. That’s… skeptical. After years of watching them go back and forth, it’s hard to believe the permanence of their breakup. You wouldn’t be surprised if that changed as soon as next week, or even tomorrow. But maybe it’s true this time. Maybe they won’t reconcile. If that’s the case, you are glad he’ll be out of such an exhausting relationship, but you won’t let yourself believe he’ll develop feelings for you. 

“I’m sorry,” You offer instead and Soap chuckles humorlessly.

“Do you mean that?”

“I don’t, but I know she was important to you.” Probably still is, but you won’t dwell on that. “I’m still upset with you, though.”

He chuckles again, a little more genuinely this time. It’s almost enough to make you smile. Almost. “Aye, I know. I deserve it.”

“You do.” And maybe a slap. A cathartic slap. Perhaps not for him, but it might do you good. “And you’re still a prick, but now that you’re not… occupied… Can we figure everything out?”

It’s small, but you can’t help that spark of hope that blooms in your chest at the soft smile he gives you.

“I’d like nothing more, Princess.”

(His mother heard the whole thing. She’ll discuss it later with the both of you. But for now, she’ll stay out of it and let you two work it out before getting involved. She just hopes her idiot son doesn’t mess things up with you. 

She much rather prefers you over his ex, after all.)

[solar-wing]

⚣ Sassy Man Jason 👏🏻

⚣👏🏻 A/N → This is not a repost, this is a new original. Once again, another idea that came to me while I was in the middle of writing out one of my Conner fics and finishing my revisions to the third installment of Primal. I saw this on TikTok about the sassy men apocalypse and the first thing that came to mind was our favorite needy soft boi anti-hero.

⚣👏🏻 Summary → You didn't know why, but Jason had been giving you an attitude all day. Rolling his eyes, giving, you stank looks, and treating you like a cold piece of pie. What did you even do? And when did he get this freaking sassy?

⚣👏🏻 Words → 1.7k

REBLOGS and replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 👏🏻

“Jason, what is wrong with you?”

For what reason you couldn’t figure out, your boyfriend Jason Todd had an attitude since he walked through your apartment door. All day you kept receiving side-eyes, stank looks, and silent treatments anytime you tried to talk to or touch him.

Which, for your boyfriend, meant something had to seriously be wrong.

Even if he was weary of physical contact, he always sought out your comforting touch no matter what. Outside of his family (who were basically only one step above random strangers), you were the only one Jason allowed free reign to hug, hold, caress, and more.

Of course, he also preferred you being the same way and not allowing other people to touch you except for him, but that was a different story for another day.

But, today seemed to be different as Jason was almost treating you like his brothers. Not in the exact same way as he didn’t want to be bothered with you or avoided you. Moreso like he’d snuff your appearance or roll his eyes when you said something.

You were both currently on your bed in your room snuggled under one of your many blankets. You had a show you and Jason were currently binging on while snacking on some popcorn.

Usually, whenever you two would sit down to watch TV, read, play games, or even just enjoy each other’s presence, he’d pull you into his large embrace, secretly enjoying how you warmed his body up. And the stronger man would keep that hold on you the entire time, even if you tried to get up to go to the bathroom or grab some more food.

None of that happened. Jason sat his entire body on the other side of your queen-sized mattress, with the blanket wrapped around him.

It was actually a little funny seeing his large body laid down on your bed, as he had to make sure he didn’t tip himself over too far with his body weight and fall off the edge.

He even kept snatching the blanket from you every time you tried to snuggle under a little more. You had to buy all bigger-sized blankets to be able to cover both you and him since the ones you had before definitely were not up to the job. They sometimes barely managed to cover you.

So, imagine your annoyance when every time you move to adjust the blanket, it got snatched out of your hand. And the culprit behind it was lying next to you while giving you the world’s worst stank-eye like you did something to him before tucking more of the soft material under his neck, looking like a furry soft plushy with only his head sticking out the opening.

When you tried to get him to give you some of the blanket, he turned away from you, while still giving you more side-eye. That’s when you had asked what was wrong with you, while he just looked back at you, before turning his head back around and opening up his phone if the sound of him opening social media was any indicator.

It was official, your boyfriend was acting like the world’s biggest freaking toddler. And you still had no idea what brought on this treatment.

You looked over at the man, his blanket-covered broad back greeting you in return. Scooching over, you tried to hug him from behind, thinking maybe that would help but he only shook your body off before scooting himself closer to the edge.

“Are you kidding me?” You asked the vigilante, who only continued to ignore you while scrolling on his phone.

Now, it was your turn to roll your eyes as you basically sat in the middle of the bed with a boyfriend who apparently wanted nothing to do with you.

“Why are you acting mad at me? What did I do?” You continue to ask, starting to feel upset at how he was treating you.

When you were still met with silence, you huffed out a breath before going to move off the bed, “Whatever bro,” You muttered before grabbing your phone and stomping out to your living room.

Plopping yourself down on the couch, you unlocked your phone and opened your Messages app, deciding if your boyfriend wouldn’t tell you what was wrong, maybe someone else could help give you an idea.

The sounds of tapping on your phone filled the quiet space outside of the muffle from your TV in the bedroom as you typed a message to Dick, figuring he could help you figure out why Jason was so upset with you.

You: hey Dick?

Dick: hey Y/N! What’s up?

You: did something happen last night? is everything okay?

Dick: um no, at least not that I know of. Why, what’s wrong?

You: idk. Jason has just been acting weird all day since he got to my place. he barely looks at me without rolling his eyes, he won’t let me touch him or even near him for that matter, and he keeps giving me this childish attitude whenever I try to talk to him.

Dick: lol

You: lol?! why are you loling me? you think this is funny?!

Dick: quite actually. I think I know what’s wrong though. Last night when we were out on patrol, Jason was acting the same way. Apparently, he kept trying to call you since according to him, he’d rather listen to your snoring than our annoying voices over the comms but you weren’t answering.

You: OMG I was studying for a final and I told him I was leaving my phone on Do Not Disturb so I could concentrate.

Dick: you didn’t put him as an exception?

You: … you can do that?

Dick: yes. you can. how did you not know that?

You: IDK! shut up!

Dick: lol

While you were typing out another response to the annoying Nightwing vigilante, you heard the sounds of heavy footsteps making their way from your bedroom to the living room.

You looked up to see your mammoth-sized boyfriend still wrapped in your blanket to where you could only see his face and hair sticking out from the top and his feet poking from under. The stank look on his face was still there even as he walked forward to stand in front of you.

There was a creeping urge to laugh that you tried to resist while staring at your big, scary, and sometimes morally questionable vigilante boyfriend wrapped in a large fluffy red and white blanket with his bed-head curls lying over his forehead while staring at you like an angry child who was told no to getting a cookie from the jar before dinner.

“Are you finally ready to talk to me?”

He didn’t say anything before he just leaned down, opening the blanket so he could pick you up in his arms before walking back to your room and jumping on the bed with his body on top of you. Your breath had been knocked out of you from your impact on the mattress along with Jason’s heavy weight on top of you.

“Ugh, seriously Jay. You’ve got too much muscle on you to be jumping on top of me like that.” You groaned.

You heard an indignant huff from him as he looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “Are you calling me fat?” He finally spoke with his gruff voice.

It was once again your turn to roll your eyes, “Oh, don’t you start with me,” You replied before using your fingers to flick his forehead, his eyes narrowing at you in response.

“Are you seriously mad at me because I didn’t answer your calls last night? I told you I was studying for a final.” You said while now using the same hand to rub your hand through his hair.

“Why is my number not on the exception list on your Do Not Disturb in your phone?” He countered, completely ignoring your question.

“Oh my god, I didn’t even know you could do that. My parents aren’t even on that list.”

“Ok, and?” He said, shaking his head at you like that was supposed to mean something.

“When did you get so freaking sassy?”

“Give me your phone,” Jason ordered, not even waiting for you to move before he grabbed your phone out of your other hand. It was hard for you to move with his body still on top of you, plus his weight and body heat added with the warmth from the blanket tired you faster the more you wiggle around.

He placed the phone in front of your face to unlock it before going to your settings, “Why were you texting Dickface?” He asked.

“Because you wouldn’t tell me what was wrong with you so I asked him.” He just let out a gruff hum before opening the Do Not Disturb section in your settings, going to the panel you’d never seen before where you could add contacts in the phone’s feature so they could still call you or text you without being sent to voicemail or silence.

You watched as Jason added his contact in there, before also adding your parents.

“Seriously, you added my dads?”

“Yep. It’ll score me more brownie points at the next family dinner at your place.” He said with a sneaky smile, before putting your phone down and placing his chin on your chest to stare at you.

“Are you happy now?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not yet. Promise me you’ll always answer my calls and texts. I don’t care if you’re studying, in the shower, or sleeping. It helps me feel better knowing you’re okay.” Jason said, holding his pinky out for a promise.

“Who died and made you boss?” You joked before yelping out in pain when Jason pinched the side of your butt.

“Ow! Fine, I promise.” You agreed, closing your pinky around his to which he smiled before patting the stinging area of your skin he just pinched.

“Good boy.”

“Alright. Are you done having an attitude now?” You inquired, wanting to go back to cuddling and watching your show.

“Almost. Gimme food and I’ll think about it.” He ordered, before laying his head down on your chest.

Your lips pulled up into an annoyed, but playful smile as you grabbed your phone to call your and Jason’s favorite pizza place, “When did you get so freaking sassy?”

“Always have been, babe.”

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[taintandviolent]

A Real Man ; Jimmy Darling x reader

summary: Reader is a married to a chump. A real chump who doesn't know what he's got and as far as Jimmy Darling is concerned, reader needs to be treated right for once.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 3.6k! | married female reader, infidelity, brief usage of Y/N, judgemental language, fingering, dry humping, arousal, kissing/making out, slight angst with the fact that Jimmy can't keep every woman he meets.

a/n: requested by @babygorewhore! this was supposed to be a drabble, but it turned into a 3K fic. sorry, sorry, sorry! as always, sorry if this is horrible!!!

full fic under cut! ↓ / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

Jimmy peeked through the gap in the curtain -- it was almost a full house. Good. Elsa would be pleased, and when she was pleased, she was less likely to nitpick; something that all of the troupe tried to avoid.

His dark eyes spotted you heading towards the front, a giddy skip in your step. Your beauty took his breath away; he was almost disappointed to see a man following close behind you as you searched for a place to sit. Judging by your body language, Jimmy could tell you were excited. A small smile crawled across his lips as he watched you. He loved when pretty girls were excited for the show – made his performance that much better. You briefly made eye contact, and a small, shy smile curved around your red lips. Jimmy looked to the front row, and you followed his gaze. Your eyes lit up and you turned to your husband, pointing in the direction of the front.

"Let's sit -- ow!"

Roger gripped your bicep, yanking you hard backwards, away from the decision you'd made. Jimmy furrowed his brow and squared his shoulders, ready to put a man in his place if he had to. His fists balled up into fleshy wads; he didn’t like what he was seeing. Ain’t no reason for a woman to be treated like that…  

"I don't want us sitting too close to them. Might catch something." he snarled, towing you towards some empty wooden chairs in the third row. A horrible sensation roiled in your stomach, making you nauseous. Suddenly ashamed to even be with a man with that kind of mindset, you couldn't help but scowl at your husband's sour opinion. Embarrassed, you kept your gaze away from the man behind the curtain, hoping he hadn't seen or heard any of that.

"Roger," you said softly, reprimanding him in the nicest way you could. "They aren't sick, they're just different."

A hush fell over the crowd as you settled into your seats and a bearded woman came out, welcoming everyone to the show. Much to your dismay, your husband was immediately disgusted and continued making snide comments under his breath.

Not brave enough to say it aloud , you thought. Coward.

As the show got started, it was easy to forget about Roger's little comments. You happily engulfed yourself in the wonderful acts that they put on, particularly delighted by all the musical performances. Not only were they putting their disabilities and differences on display for the world to see and judge – which was admirable in and of itself – but they were genuinely a very talented troupe.

After the show ended, Roger, who had scowled and crossed his arms the entire time, was the first to exit, shoving his way past people, muttering angrily as he did. Apologizing to the offended individuals he left in his wake, you ducked underneath the tent flap, heading after him.

"Makes me sick, that was a waste of time. Freaks like that oughta' be put outta' their misery."

You clenched your teeth, pressing your purse tightly to your abdomen as you walked. You'd just about had it with his disparaging commentary, and that comment was the final straw. Taking a deep breath, you dug your heels into the dirt, stopping yourself. "How DARE you!"

"Excuse me?!" Roger spun around, his expression a terrifying mixture of anger and surprise. He'd never heard you yell like that. It made him angrier than he was before, and he charged at you like an animal, ready to strike.

You righted yourself, standing your ground. In reality, there was nothing to be gained from defending these people, but something in your stomach told you that you had to. You narrowed your eyes as you continued, taking one step away from him.

"They're people too, just like you and me!" Your voice was shrill and determined.

"No! They ain't!" He stuck his finger in your face, nearly jabbing it into your nose. Roger's rebuttal was filled with so much venom, it made you reel back with a gasp. He'd always been an abrasive sort, but this wasn't the man you married.

Jimmy and Paul were helping move some of the set pieces off the stage when Del abruptly straightened up, cocking an ear towards the entrance. The hollering continued, and could be heard from inside the tent. “You hear that?” 

“Sure do,” Paul said. Jimmy nodded in agreement. A couple arguing was never a good sign, and usually something that needed to be dealt with quickly. Jimmy’s heart sank; he had a pretty good idea of who it was. They all hurried towards the entrance, and as soon as Jimmy lifted the flap of the tent, he spotted you.

You stamped your foot, causing a cloud of dust to float up around your heels. "That's a wretched thing to say, and you know it! You're being so hateful, Roger!"

He gestured to the men behind you as they approached. "Well, if you're so fond of 'em, maybe you oughta' run away and join 'em! Suits me just fine!"

And with that, he stomped off, headed towards the car. With anxiety bubbling up your throat, you ran after him, calling his name. He either didn't hear you or didn't care, because he didn't turn around. You suspected it was the latter.

As the car lurched forward onto the road, the engine revved and the tires spun, spitting gravel and dust back at you. For a moment, you ran down the dirt pathway, trying to catch up to him. It was futile, but the humiliation drove you forward. You couldn't even look back at the men, unsure if they had seen everything.

You'd made it out onto the main road, but Roger's car was out of view. Out of breath, you finally stopped, huffing a defeated breath. Tears welled in your eyes, blurring your vision. What were you to do? You looked down the road, there were some buildings up ahead. Surely, one of them had a phone. As much as it hurt your ego, you knew the only option was to walk and call Roger at home, and apologize for whatever you'd done.

Back at the field, Jimmy was fuming. He'd seen you take off, running after the car desperately, and watched as the distance between you two grew.

“I’ll get her,” he volunteered, already jogging off towards his bike. Del scoffed, unsurprised and rolled his eyes. Of course Jimmy would be the one to go find her.

As he headed for his trailer, Jimmy's temper flared. He resented the way that your boyfriend, husband, whoever he was, had shucked you off like you were nothing. Not to mention, the way he'd treated you in the show, right in front of everyone. That wasn’t right. And he wasn’t gonna’ stand for it. Part of him hoped that he'd get the chance to talk to this Roger fellow.

With tears streaming down your rouged cheeks, you ambled down the road, heading in the direction that he'd gone. Your husband had never done anything like that before, and you weren’t sure what to do next. He’d left you stranded. All because you’d opened your big, sympathetic mouth and tried to defend the freaks from his senseless hate. You'd only just gotten to the top of the hill when you heard the low rumble of an engine slowing behind you. Great. Just what you needed - someone to harass you further.

“Hey, sweetheart. You alright?” Jimmy raised his voice over the growl of his motorcycle. Despite that, there was genuine concern in his voice as he crept closer to you, approaching you apprehensively like he would a scared animal.  

Turning your head to meet the voice, you swallowed back a sob, and straightened up, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. “Y-yes, I'm just fine, thank you.”

Jimmy was next to you now, and you got a good look at his face. It was the man from the show, the one that you'd seen peeking out from behind the curtains. The Lobster Boy. You stopped walking, and his bike rolled to a stop next to you.

"You sure about that?" He asked, leaning forward on the handlebars.

You looked over at him, your lower lip trembling like a child. He just had to show you some kindness, some warmth in that moment, and that, regrettably, brought the tears back. They spilled over your cheeks, flowing freely. Jimmy reached forward and swept his gloved thumb over your cheek, wicking away the tears that tumbled over. “Baby, baby… you’re too pretty to cry that way, you know that?” 

You sniffled pitifully. Bright, wet eyes lifted from the road to his suntanned face. He was so warm, so sweet… like some fresh cotton candy from the stand by the ferris wheel. The wind rustled through the bright, green leaves and you heaved a sigh.

“It’s just that my husband… he-he...” You sniffled loudly, and wiped another set of tears away.

“Hey-hey. Shh. It’s okay, dollface. I saw what happened back there. You don't gotta' relive it. Tell you what. Why don't you hop on?"

"Oh, no I couldn't... I... should get home."

Jimmy shook his head lightly, knowing that home was the last place you wanted to be.

"Sweetheart, what's your name?"

"Y/N..." you said quietly.

"Y/N, listen. It ain't right for a man to leave a woman like that..."

You knew it. Roger hadn't been right that entire afternoon, from the comments to him leaving you. He'd been out of line the entire time, and it infuriated you, doubled you up in anger, though you didn’t show. "Mr. Darling," You started, recalling his name from the show.

"Jimmy." He interjected.

"Jimmy," you started again, chewing on the corner of your lip. "I appreciate the offer, but I just... I can't..."

"Sure you can." His voice was low and sweet, like honey as it filled your ears. "Does he take care of you?"

Taken aback by the question, you furrowed your brows, silently asking what he meant. Jimmy cleared his throat and straightened up on his bike, casually brushing something from the thigh of his jeans.

"What I mean is, does he treat you right? Take care of your needs...?"

You swallowed hard, averting your gaze. That was all the confirmation he needed. Jimmy kicked down the stand of his bike, and got off of it, closing in the distance between the two of you.

“Babydoll,” Jimmy started, leaning closer to you. His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, his eyes sweeping over your face. You were unbelievable, one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen – and he’d seen some. The closeness had his heart thumping and his groin flushed with heat. He hadn't intended for this, but something about the way you looked up at him with those big, ol' pretty eyes had his head spinning.

Jimmy lifted your chin with his knuckle. "Get on my bike, and lemme' show you how a real man treats a woman."

Oh, live a little, you thought. Your husband was nowhere to be found, and he was the one who had left you. Whatever repercussions occurred because of that were out of your control. It was decided. Adjusting your purse on your shoulder, you stepped to Jimmy's bike, and carefully got on. Jimmy joined you with a proud smile, and revved the engine.

Looking both ways, Jimmy made a wide turn, getting you both pointed back in the direction of the tents. The wind whistled through your hair, locks fluttering behind you. You squeezed Jimmy's torso tighter as he sped up, heading back down the road. He smelled like cotton, sweat and sun. You nuzzled your face into his back, living in the moment. Jimmy smiled, knowingly.

The ride was short, but exhilarating. You'd never ridden on a motorcycle, and the memory was something you'd cherish. You held onto his broad, toned shoulders, steadying yourself as he pulled into the field; the bumps of the dirt road jostling you about. He pulled up behind his caravan, killed the engine and hopped off. He grinned brightly at you, his large, gloved hands reaching for your waist. "C'mon, off you go." 

He lifted you carefully off the bike as you swung your leg over the seat. Your heel caught on the edge, sending you stumbling into his arms. The closeness was abrupt, but very welcome. Your breath hitched in your throat. 

"Easy - you alright?" 

"Just clumsy," you murmured, putting enough distance between your bodies to smooth out the skirt of your dress.

With one hand, Jimmy guided you up the small steps of his trailer, holding the door open for you.

A flash of worry crossed his face as he took off his gloves, setting them on the kitchen counter. He saw your eyes dart down to his hands, scanning over the fleshy, conjoined digits, but there was a hint of intrigue in your eyes - you weren't put off. That was enough for him to make a move.

"C'mere, baby. Let me take care of you."

Without another word, Jimmy wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you into his chest. His lips connected with yours in a warm kiss - warm like the summer sun. Everything about him was intoxicating and you were drunk on him, lust-blown and wanting more. Boldly, his fingers closed around the zipper pull of your dress and pulled it carefully down your back, pressing his lips against your shoulder as he slid the sleeve down. His fingertips trailed softly down your spine, sending a chill through your body. He guided the dress off your body, allowing it to fall to your feet. You stepped out of the circle of fabric, and wrapped your arms around his neck. With strong, passionate kisses, he walked you backwards through the trailer, carefully navigating you to the back portion where the bedroom was. You were thankful he was in control, because you felt yourself wobble, dizzy with lust. The back of your legs finally hit the edge of the mattress, and Jimmy guided you backwards, until you were laying flat. 

Perched at the end of his bed, he reached forward to touch you. You bit your lip, looking shy and unsure. You’d never been in your lingerie in front of any other man besides your husband, and your heart thudded against your ribcage at the thought of what you were about to experience.  Jimmy's large, warm hands explored your flesh, covering every exposed inch in gentle, persuasive touches. You'd already wordlessly agreed to whatever he was doing, but every touch pushed you further over that edge, turning you into putty in his hands. You exhaled a shaky breath, watching him as he worked. His fingers swept past your ankles, up your calves and finally over the curve of your knees, where he gently spread them apart.

"My husband never does this..." You cooed, nervously. You weren't sure how to act, but you hoped natural instinct would kick in soon.

"I know." was all Jimmy said before dipping his head between your legs. He pressed kisses along your inner thighs, nearing your aching center. The closer he got, the more you writhed in his grip. Pressing a single kiss against your stomach, his teeth grazed your tummy as he took the elastic waistband of your panties between his teeth, pulling them down. His fingers met halfway, and pulled them to your ankles, where he tenderly guided your feet out of the holes.

You were on full display now and your tummy clenched. Perhaps she clenched too, because Jimmy swallowed back a deep groan, his eyes rolling back slightly. The sight of a woman, wet and waiting for him, never got old. Ever. Jimmy crawled up onto the bed, positioning himself at your side. His cock ached desperately, twitching to life, but it wasn't about him. Your pleasure was the focus, and he could wait. With all his experience at Tupperware parties, he'd gotten real good at keeping his arousal at bay until he was alone.

Above you, Jimmy’s brown eyes searched your face, flashing you a bright smile."You alright, baby?"

You nodded, spreading your legs slightly. One of his hands trailed along your stomach, softly caressing the skin as he made his way down. Breath hitching in your throat again, you unintentionally arched your back up into his touch. His fingertips met your core, and his thumb swept over your folds, spreading them gently. He explored them sweetly, taking his time to play with the slickness that met him.

"You like that?" 

You mewled in response, eyes rolling back in your head. 

"C'mon, lemme hear you... nothin' to be embarrassed of here." 

No words came out, but a pleading, satisfied moan tumbled off your lips. You thought his act was singing and showing off his claws -- not reading minds. You were never loud with your husband; he found it obnoxious when women were too loud.

With that, Jimmy slipped into you slowly, taking his time to breach your entrance.You gasped, eyes wide and glued to the ceiling. You gripped his arms, steadying yourself as you adjusted, widening your legs a little more. The girth of his fingers stunned you, you'd never felt so full, even with your husband. They immediately curved up to hit the spongy, sensitive flesh, massaging it while his thumb circled your clit.

He may have conditioned himself into not pleasuring himself while he was giving his all to a woman, but your wanton moans and whimpers... hell... you were makin' it so hard . He clenched his jaw, watching you as your sweet, lush hips rolled back and forth to meet his fingers each time he withdrew them.

Each breath was a moan, and you couldn't stop them, the euphoria that you felt was too much. You were a perfect picture of arousal; cheeks flushed, hair mussed up and flayed out on his pillowcase, back arched, and hips undulating to meet his touch. Jimmy was used to women during pleasure, but something about the way you whimpered his name had gotten him worked up.

His cock was rock hard, tenting against his old, softened jeans. Jimmy ground his hips once against your hip, forcing friction and testing your reaction. The slick wet spot on his boxers shifted, and he let loose a throaty, low sound. He couldn't take it anymore.

Thankfully, you let out a pleased sound of surprise, and whispered: "Do that again..."

You begged him for more, your nails leaving crescent moon shaped indentations on his biceps. The way he touched you was unlike anything you'd ever felt before, and certainly nothing that your husband had ever done for you. Jimmy pushed his fingers deeper, thrusting them in and out and coating them with your slick.

Jimmy groaned, your candy-sweet voice filled his ears and his caravan. His hips rutted against you again, finding a pleasurable rhythm that stroked his shaft as he moved. He would've given anything to have been inside you. He fucked you faster, and your tight, warm cunt squeezed around his fingers. His hips jerked abruptly, pressing his cock hard into your side. The sensations were too much, you couldn’t hold back any longer. 

"Jimmy, I'm gonna'... I feel like I'm.... oh god."

Your legs tensed and then began quivering as your orgasm washed over you, your jaw dropping in a high-pitched moan. You pulsed around his fingers as you came, saying his name over and over again.

Jimmy felt the tightness of his own orgasm approaching, withdrew his fingers, and climbed on top of you, hurriedly. With one hand, he undid his jeans and pulled his throbbing cock free from his boxers. “Sorry, baby… I need to feel you.” The fat, scarlet tip leaked pre-cum onto you as he ground it against your cunt, slipping in between the warm folds. You dropped your head against the pillow again, whimpering at how sensitive you’d become – the friction of his cock on your clit was making you see stars. Jimmy’s hips lost their rhythm abruptly, stuttering as he emptied himself all over your stomach, white ropes of cum decorating the soft flesh.

After taking his undershirt off to clean up the mess he’d made, Jimmy laid with you, stroking your collarbone tenderly. You fell asleep on his small bed, wrapping yourself in the warm cotton sheets. As your lids drifted shut, you thought not of Roger, but of cotton candy, warm and melting on your tongue where the taste of Jimmy Darling still lingered.

~

The sun was setting when Jimmy finally emerged from his trailer, wearing a button down shirt and jeans. As he headed back towards the main tent, someone called his name.

"Jimmy," Eve sighed, leaning against the side of her caravan. "You can't keep breaking hearts like that."

Pausing, Jimmy shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged her statement off. "Who said I broke her heart? That girl needed to know what it felt like."

Eve knew what he meant and in a way, Jimmy was doing these women a service. He was treating them how they all ought to be treated, and she couldn't argue with that. She stepped down onto the grass, closing in the distance between them.

"We're leaving in a week, sweetheart. You know you're going to have to take her home tomorrow." Eve felt like a mother telling her kid that they couldn't keep an animal they'd found. She frowned slightly, reaching out to squeeze Jimmy's shoulder.

"Yeah... yeah, I know."

He chuckled, exhaling through his nose, his gaze falling. He liberated women. Sure, maybe a few tears were shed, a couple marriages shattered in the process, but you can't make an omelette without cracking a few eggs. Jimmy showed women how they were supposed to be treated, how they were supposed to feel every night and once they got the Lobster Boy special, they never settled again. He hoped you wouldn't, either.

You deserved that.

[jarofstyles]

Illicit 10

Here we are, babes. The last official part of the main Illicit story. It’s bittersweet because I finally completed something lmao but also, I really love them and their story.

Safe to say this isn’t the last you’ll see of them. I’m fully planning on doing little flashbacks and check ins with them, feel free to let me know what you would like to see/if you have any unanswered questions. Thank you for reading!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 160+ exclusive writings

Illicit masterlist

WC- 3.3k

Warnings- mention of wounds, stitching, having children, marriage talk, nightmares, etc

——-

“Harry, for the love of god, please be careful of your arm.” Y/N winced in worry as the man carried firewood over to their fire pit. He had not been taking his injury half as seriously as he had been taking Y/N’s concussion, treating her like the ‘delicate little bird she was.’ He’d gotten an eye roll for that. Of course he wasn’t letting her help lug the wood for their night in front of the fire. She’d requested with sleepy eyes earlier in the morning to make smores because they’d been in her dream and Harry was giving her basically anything she wanted. 

“M’fine, baby.” He laughed, appreciating her concern but knowing the injury barely stung anymore. “The stitches are coming out tomorrow, and we pushed it, keeping them until then. Only kept them because you wanted me to.” 

It had been about 2 weeks since the attack and they’d left for the lake house. As much as he knew it was terrifying for the both of them, he was utterly relieved to have Katherine behind bars. He’d made sure to keep updated by his contact in the force to know what was happening with her case. Apparently she had really lost it, but Harry didn’t give a fuck. He wanted her to rot behind bars, to live miserably and have Y/N be safe without the threat of some crazy ex-who-isn’t-an-ex looming in the background. 

Harry had kept work to a minimum, only logging in to oversee the decisions he had to make. There had been no calls besides the nightly one with his COO to ensure things were running smoothly. Other than that, his entire attention had been on Y/N. They’d barely left the house considering at first Y/N had been a bit embarrassed of her injuries. Another reason he’d hate Katherine until the day he died. Harry always was one to hold grudges, he was infamous for it. She’d never know peace if the man had anything to do with it. 

They were healing incredibly well, Harry taking the time at night to set her on the bathroom counter and wipe them clean and apply the healing ointment to them. The only one that was more than a fading scab was the one on her head along with the slight discoloration the black eye had caused. Other than that, he was more than relieved to see her bouncing back. The only thing that plagued him still was the nightmare. 

His nightmares. 

They’d always start the same, almost a play by play of what had happened to him walking into the home and up the stairs- only when he got there it had been too late. In his nightmare, the knife had already taken Y/N’s life and he couldn’t do anything to save her. He always woke up before the knife struck him, but it actually hurt him. It was a little difficult for him to admit to her, always wanting to be the strong one when it came to their pairing- someone for her to lean on fully- but she had cried once he told her and insisted that she wanted to be there for him. That a partnership was made out of balance and while she could offer him some of the same things he did for her, she was more than capable to be his emotional shoulder to cry on. It had been a tough thing to come to terms with but this week seemed to be healing. Not just physically, either. 

“Ms. Greta, please tell him to take it easy.” Y/N pouted at the older woman who brought out the tray of s’more making supplies. She’d made sure to add the peanut butter cups as requested. 

“I’m afraid if he won’t listen to you, he won’t listen to anyone.” She chuckled. “Men will be men, and that includes straining their physical health for the macho man act. One day they learn we do know what we are talking about.” A little wink was sent her way as Harry huffed, arranging the wood in the fire pit with a grumble. 

“Because I’m fine.” He stressed, standing up straight and crossing his arms. “It’s healed up nicely. I’m more than capable of setting up a little fire.” Crossing over to Y/N, he stole a kiss before grabbing the lighter and a few other things. “Just sit pretty and let your man do the work, baby. I’ve got it.” 

There was a snort heard from both women but Ms. Greta was now off the clock, wishing them a good night before retreating into the house. As much as he loved having the woman around, he really was obsessed with this alone time with Y/N. There was the residual guilt he had over her being treated less than ideally because he was juggling the faux relationship and the contract, but he knew now that he was going to have to take a bit of a step back from work in order to do that. He’d delegate as he was supposed to be doing to begin with, assign more to his assistant, take Y/N more places and on more dates out in public. He couldn’t fucking wait to attent events with her and show her off. 

He’d been waiting months to let people know who his heart belonged to, and he was finally getting the chance to do so. It was obvious now since the articles had been a media frenzy over the attack, things leaked he couldn’t pinpoint. The only thing he had been commenting on was the fact that Y/N wasn’t a mistress, Katherine wasn’t his lover that was scorned, and there was no true excuse for the actions. It was a good thing in hindsight that they were there, alone. No one had a true clue about the location and he didn’t feel like being hounded by paparazzi- though hopefully they knew better now than to test him and his hatred for the cameras.

One thing that had been burning into him, though, was a question he’d been wanting to ask her. One he knew that was a bit unorthodox but a necessary one nonetheless. 

She sat across his lap, his hoodie covering her tank top and denim shorts as her legs swung slightly while they waited for the fire to burn a bit hotter so they could roast their marshmallows.

“When would you like to get married?” He asked. “And how many kids are we thinking about?” 

The girl nearly snapped her neck as she looked at him with wide eyes, the not so casual question leaving his mouth as if it was him asking what she wanted for dinner. Harry always did find a way to shock the hell out of her but this was definitely one of the top questions that had caught her off guard.  Secretly, she’d assumed Harry had that all figured out. He always made sure to let her know how much he appreciated her opinions and her thoughts, that they were important to him- but he was a planner. Harry was the man in charge and she was happy to let him be. It took a lot of weight off of her shoulders that she wouldn’t admit to anyone else actually weighed on her. 

“Uh…” She blinked at him a few times. “I’m not sure. Kinda figured you’d be the one to pop the question. But honestly… Maybe a year? A few months? I dunno.” There was a slight lump in her throat. “I’ve no doubt I want to be with you the rest of my life so part of me feels like I’d probably be fine eloping right now if that was something you wanted but… We haven't really had the chance to be a couple out in the open. While I doubt that’s going to change much considering we feel so strongly, I think it would be kind to ourselves to let us iron out some of the details first before we fully tie the knot.” There wasn’t a right or wrong answer but it still made her a little nervous to answer. “As for kids? I’m not sure. 2? 3? I’d probably say we have one first and figure it out from there.” It wasn’t like they’d have to worry about resources externally but she knew Harry valued family more than anything and he’d want to be an active father. He’d already indulged that detail to her one night when they were particularly loved up. However, neither of them had any children so they didn’t know the workload it would entail, nor did they know how they’d work as parents. Of course they’d figure it out but it would make it a bit more clear on how many they could handle.

“First of all, as much as I’d love to call you my wife right this second… I could never deprive you of the wedding you deserve.” Y/N had told him about the fact that she had always dreamt about her wedding as a little girl. She had pinterest boards full of themes and wedding dresses she’d want to try and cake designs. He wasn’t about to deprive her of those things for his selfish needs.. Harry knew he was indeed a selfish bastard in every other facet of his life, but when it came to Y/N and his soon to be family? That was his only exception. “My mum would probably keel over dead if I did that too. Trust me, you’re going to get your princess wedding.” There was no debating that. “And for kids… I’d love to give you many, many babies.” His tone turned smooth, a little smirk lighting up his face and the twinkle of his eye. “But I think I agree. My idea had been 2-4, but I’ll take as many as you’ll give me. Always.” His hand pulled her in so he could press a kiss to her cheek, muttering a soft declaration of love. 

“Love you more.” She sighed, leaning further into his chest. “I’m so happy that we can live our lives when we get back. I know it’ll probably be a little crazy but there's no more hiding. We can go out and hold hands and kiss, people are going to know we belong to each other.” The giddiness on her face was bittersweet. “I’m so excited to be with you properly.”

The tinge of guilt hit him full on in the stomach, making him frown as he looked into the fire. He knew he had fucked up several times on this journey and Y/N just had a lot of patient and given him a lot of grace when he knew for a fact most other people wouldn’t- but that made it feel a little worse. He’d been wrong in not ditching the contract immediately. “Baby?” He said, voice quieter as he met her eyes. “I’m sorry. Genuinely sorry that I’m a stubborn son of a bitch and I didn’t just dissolve the contract and take on a lawsuit. I should have done it the day I met you because I knew you were going to mean a lot to me even there. I… I know I’ve told you a lot how you were the first and only person to ever make me feel the way you do, but it’s more than that. And my hard headed shit got us into something awful. I know I fucked up and you are more generous than I deserve but…” His fingers tenderly moved the hair from her face, stroking her cool cheek. “I’m going to work every single day for the rest of my life to make it up to you. I’m going to make you the most spoiled, well traveled, happiest woman I possibly can.” His voice stayed quiet as he searched her eyes for any hint of resentment but somehow there wasn’t any there. 

“H.. I knew what I signed up for. You’d been nothing but honest with me the night I ignored you. You laid it all out for me. I knew that you were taken in name only and I liked you so much that I agreed. I never felt like I played second to her. You can say a lot of things about you, lovely, but subtle isn’t one of those things. You never made me feel like she was important. I understood how important your business was to you- it’s the most important thing to you. Did I like seeing you with her? No. But you made it so clear to me that I was yours and you were mine, I never felt like… I never had any competition.” Y/N tried to soothe the ache she knew he felt. Of course she hadn’t liked people thinking he belonged to someone else but she knew he loved her. The most she had ever been loved, the most unashamed. 

“First, I have a correction- You are the most important thing to me. I’d give it all up for you.” That wasn’t a sentence anyone could take lightly, nor one he would ever thought he would say. It used to be the truth, but now it was far from it. “You are my life.” His gaze bore into her own as he cupped her cheek.  “There was never any competition. If we want the honest truth, I thought I’d marry as a business decision. I thought I’d probably not have any kids considering I only ever wanted children out of love. I was happy working until I was gray and about to keel over. Business was my only reason for being, and it wasn’t something I minded- but you gave my life so much more, so much color, my angel.” He’d never sounded more fond in his life, looking at his heaven sent gift perched in his lap. “I didn’t realize there was more to life until I met you. You opened my eyes and made my heart soften. I give a shit about a lot more than numbers now and it’s because of you.” 

People could say he did it himself but he knew the truth. Without meeting Y/N his life would have been the same robotic function it had been since he got out of uni, and he wouldn’t have complained. He’d never know how much he would miss out on. “I thank whoever in the world sent you to me every damn day and you know m’not religious. You are my miracle. It made me feel so fucking sick walking in that house and thinking you were hurt, I have never in my life felt that sort of terror. But I’d do it all again in order to keep you.” The scar on his arm was a reminder of that. 

“I love you, H. The most in the world.” Her eyes watered a little as she smiled at him. “I’m sorry you got scared. I was scared too, scared she would do worse with that knife though I’m still upset you got hurt at all. But I’d go through every bit of it again too.” She sniffled, feeling his thumb brush under her eye as a tear fell. “I know I want everything with you. The marriage and babies and our own house with a pool, if that’s something you want too. You’re the love of my life.” 

“And you’re mine.” He mumbled, pressing his lips to hers. “M’gonna spend every day proving that to you. Just wait and see, my angel. My heart is yours.”  

—-------

Nails dug into Harry’s back as he rocked slowly into his girl in their brand new home. One he’d bought her as a surprise when they arrived back into the city, leaving their old memories behind in the other penthouse and moving on to the next chapter in the rest of their lives. 

“H-Harry…” She bleated, holding on to him while the other hand grabbed his face and pulled his face down so he could be kissed. “Thank you. You always take c-care of me.”

His pace as slow and deep, pressing in as far as he could go on the brand new sheets they’d picked out together. The sunset bled into their room as they breathed each other in, wrapped up in their covers on their first night sleeping there. He’d spared no expense making sure he got the best of the best for her. He was dedicated to the cause, dedicated to proving to her that she was the most precious thing to him in the world. 

“M’always going to take care of you, my love.” He nudged his nose against hers as he dipped his hips to get deeper inside of her. It was like they couldn’t get close enough to one another, her legs wrapped snug around his hips while he kept himself up with one hand, the other under her neck. The term making love was fully about this. It was unmistakable. “You were made for me.” 

He couldn’t wait to spend every morning like this for the rest of his life. The man who used to cringe at the idea of fucking anyone face first now had it as his preferred position, wanting to make sure he could see every second of her reactions to him. She was snug around his cock, taking him like it was her only job in the world. He’d had no problem doing only this for the rest of his life. 

“And you were… you were made for me. We’re made for each other.” Y/N nodded, pressing another open mouthed kiss to his lips as he kept the steady pace, hitting the delicious spot he always knew how to find. “You know my body perfectly. It’s yours forever.” It was both the truth and a bit of a taunt, knowing how much he loved when she spoke like that. 

“You are. You’re mine and m’all yours, never have to share me. I love you so fucking much, Y/N.” He whimpered as her fingers tangled in his hair, tugging on it as she was filled over and over again. He hit the perfect spot and was trying to get her to cum, trying to have her finish all over him so he could do the same and stay deep inside for a while. Craving this sort of closeness was an addiction, one he didn’t plan on cutting. The obsession with Y/N grew each and every day. “I can’t wait to make you my wife.”

The woman whined out his name at the last sentence, tugging him closer with her legs as she soaked up every bit of heat from him. It didn’t matter what happened, who tried to get in their way- they would always belong to one another. There was an understanding between both of them knowing this love was bone deep, soul deep, it only deepened by the day. When it felt like they couldn’t love each other more it just kept growing, no matter how full they felt. It was everything. 

A love like this was something people revered as pure, perfect, something that everyone craved and yearned for. Something out of a book or a movie, the sort of feeling that trumps all other people and situations. Their passion and yearning for one another had been cultivated in anything but pureness, it was made in the dark. It always made him laugh a little to know that such a concept had blossomed into a real, tangible thing that he could feel between their bodies, something he could see when he looked at her, something he could taste when he kissed her. 

A love that stayed between the lines wasn’t the type that grew stronger- that’s why he smiled when they called it illicit.

[da-rulah]

request: how the papas would react to reader crying during or after sex? Also I love the way you write! 🖤🖤

I've had two people ask for this now, so let's get down to business... Each scenario is different, crying for different reasons, some during some after. Some are sad, some are horny af, so be warned. I may have flown too close to the sun with this one... TW/ Orgasm denial & over stimulation, some BDSM with paddle spanking, FWB to lovers, sadness, angst and obviously…. Crying during sex. 18+ MINORS DNI!

Primo

With his age, comes an understanding of the human body that you can only get with experience.

This is why with so much care and attention, Primo has you on the edge of climax so quickly, denying you and end and then bringing you right back to the edge.

He's not cruel about it though, he's very sweet, nurturing almost.

"You're doing so well, toppolino..."

He asks you to count how many times he’s ruined your orgasm… it nearly kills you.

"I know you can handle it, fiorellina. What number is it now?"

When he finally lets you tip over that precipice, your entire body shakes and convulses under him. It rips through you like dropping a match to gasoline.

You're whimpering for him as you come back down, and without knowing, the tears have started. They're soaking your cheeks, dripping to the pillow beneath your head.

Primo looks shocked, and quickly his aged fingers are wiping at your cheeks.

"Mi dispiace, my darling... are you alright? Did I go to far?"

He hadn't, not at all. But your words failed you, and all you could do was sob into a kiss you initiated, cupping his cheeks to reassure him.

Secondo

He thought tonight was the night to introduce his newest paddle to you. You happily accepted his request, the shiny black leather looking mighty intriguing...

He rolled a pair of dice, calculating a random number. 11, is what they landed on...

11 spanks with his paddle. Each one felt harder than the last, testing your limits.

By spank no. 7, your eyes were tearing up. Still, you refused to use your safe word.

By spank no. 9, the tears were flowing freely.

You managed all 11 without your safe word, but when Secondo saw the streaks of tears down your face, his hardened dom exterior crumbled just a little. He'd made you cry once before, and that had been a safe word occasion. So he was panicked...

"Dolcezza, are you alright? Too much?"

He rocked you in his arms, careful not to touch your bruising behind.

"I'm okay, Papa... I'm okay..."

He kissed away the tears, mumbling praises to you.

"Need you, Papa... Still need you, please..."

He never could resist your begging.

Terzo

Your relationship with Terzo was strictly sexual. You knew that. You agreed to that.

But boy, did it hurt...

You wanted him emotionally, needed a closeness you were resigned to never get. But you continued your relationship despite this, grateful for what you could get. Grateful you could pretend...

With your ankles by your head, Terzo railed into you, rolling his hips with an expertise he had from your countless nights together. He knew was you liked.

"My sweet sorella, so good for me, no?"

You bit your lip, struggling with his wording choice. His. You wished...

As the thoughts invaded your mind, your need for release beckoned and yet, you couldn't reach it...

Terzo climaxed before you, roared expletives and pressing his forehead to yours, eyes shut as he caught his breath.

When he heard the first sob, his eyes shot open.

"Sorella, what...? What's the matter? Did I hurt you?"

You could only shake your head, but he had hurt you. Just not physically, and not with intention.

He searched your face for answers, trying desperately to hold eye contact with you that you kept avoiding.

"Per favore, look at me..." he spoke so softly, you could hardly ignore. "What is it?"

You poured your heart out to him, you couldn't hide it anymore. Any longer, and this relationship would break you...

Terzo sighed, rolling to lay next to you and pulling you to his bare chest.

"I adore you, tesoro... I fear we are both idioti," he chuckled, running his hand over his face, smearing his already smudged paints more.

He asked you to stay with him that night. You never slept in your own bed again.

Copia

It was such a stupid fight, one that you feared you couldn’t come back from.

You’d thrown his schedule in his face, told him it wasn’t fair that he didn’t give you any time at all now he was Papa…

When you came home, you had ignored him, making dinner and still leaving him a plate, but eating in a separate room without so much as a glance his way.

“You think I don’t give you enough attention, toppolino?” “I feel like I’m losing you, Copia… I’m so scared…”

His eyes flickered with rage when you’d begun to cry. Not at you - at himself. He’s made you feel this way?

Copia strode towards you and enveloped you in a kiss that would have made Lucifer blush.

He went into panic mode, overprotective mode. He had to show you right then and there how much he wanted to be with you, would never even dream of leaving you behind.

“You’re mine, I’m not going anywhere…”

His thrusts are wild and erratic yet somehow calculated just enough to hit the nerve endings inside you that mattered most.

You could see the desperation in his face as he fucked you, needing you to see how much he adores you and how he would bring the fires of hell up to the surface if you only asked him to…

He angrily shoved away the tears that escaped his own eyes, feeling pathetic for crying when it was you who was hurt.

“I’M. STAYING. RIGHT. HERE.” Each word punctuated with sharp, hard and frantic thrusts into you.

When you cum together, he collapses onto you. Both of you are in tears.

“I-I swear it, cara mio… I don’t want to lose you, I will do better…” he sobs into your neck

“I’m here, Copia. I’m so sorry… I’m right here.”

[youunravelme]

to all the girls you loved before part 3

author's note: thanks for all the kind words you left in the last two parts!! to everyone who wanted to be tagged but didn’t, i tried and tumblr wouldn’t let me, for some reason. :(

pairing: single dad!mat barzal x reader

summary: being a nanny for rich people was probably the worst thing that ever happened to you, until you started working for mat.

warnings: children, rich people, volatile/toxic relationship

day thirty two

"you look rough."

maybe it was the look on your face, or maybe it was your slouched shoulders. either way, mat almost immediately offered you a cup of coffee instead of apologizing.

"my roommate kept me up with her midnight hijinks. i couldn't sleep."

mat grimaced and all but shoved the cup of coffee in your hands. "i know i say this every day, but if you need to nap when ella goes down, the guest room is open."

you took a sip, cringing at the black coffee, but grateful for it anyway. "i might take you up on that offer."

"when you say 'hijinks'..." he trailed off.

"she was fucking someone really loudly. has been for awhile now," you said as you plopped down on the couch, some of the coffee spilling out of the mug and onto your fingers.

"must be nice," mat grumbled. he gestured to ella who was sitting on the floor with toys in a pack in play. "i haven't gotten any since before ella."

"you expect me to be shocked by that?" he stared at you blankly. "mat, i would know if you were seeing someone. mainly because i'm here more than you are."

he opened his mouth to protest, but sat down on the couch next to you. "touche."

"what time do you have to be at practice today?"

a quick glance at his watch told you it was later than he anticipated when he all but jumped off the couch and ran back to his room.

"running late?" you managed to croak out between laughs.

mat poked his head back into the living room with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. "just a little."

"are you driving or is tito picking you up?"

"ee-o," he called from the bathroom. you could only surmise that you were meant to understand that tito was the one driving today.

and like he was summoned, tito burst through the front door and ignored your presence in favor of cooing at ella.

"are you a sweet girl?" he asked. she didn't pay him any attention, more enraptured with the book in front of her. tito huffed and looked at you. "why is she in baby jail?"

you couldn't stop yourself, a laugh slipped out. "baby jail?"

"it's a pack and play, tito," mat said from the bathroom. "and she's in there because she's safe while i get ready."

"then what are you paying mary poppins here for?" tito joked.

"i don't disturb happy babies," you shrugged.

it was silent for a moment. you and tito held eye contact before he moved to sit on the couch next to you. "you've trained him well," he whispered. "didn't think he had a paternal bone in his body."

you didn't know what it was about tito that always had you smiling. maybe it was the fact that he was so at ease all the time. or the earnest attitude he had. or maybe it was the diehard loyalty to mat. or it could've just been that he was fun to be around.

"give him some credit," you said. "he's made a lot of changes in the past month."

"no denying there. the whole team can see it. you've been good for him, momma bear."

you almost shot off the couch. "mama bear?"

"tito," mat groaned from his place in the bathroom. "i thought i told you not to call her that."

the man in question looked unbothered. "you can't say you wouldn't go mama bear on someone for ella."

you opened and closed your mouth before looking down and ignoring him entirely. a quick glance at the clock on your phone had you changing the subject. "aren't you supposed to be leaving now?"

"we would if mat would stop fixing his hair," tito snipped. he turned his head towards the hallway bathroom. "your hair is going into a helmet, mathew. we're not going to the met gala."

mat came out dressed in all black with his hair looking....

the exact same as it did seven minutes ago.

"what the hell took you so long?" tito asked. "you look like you always do. with the amount of time it took you to get ready, i was hoping you would've looked better."

mat flipped off tito, but other than that, ignored him entirely. he walked over to where ella was and picked her up, kissing the top of her head when she curled into his chest. "i'll be back later, ella bean. i love you."

your ears heard everything, but the moment felt private, so you pretended like someone was texting you something important at 7:30 in the morning. the phone had your focus until mat called your name; you looked up almost immediately.

"i'll be back in a few hours."

day thirty four

"i'm so glad you're here," mat said as soon as he opened up the door. you walked in, albeit hesitantly, waiting for someone or something to jump out at you. there weren't many times when someone was actually excited to see you. though, you supposed, all that changed when you met mat.

"what happened? is ella okay?" you asked warily.

he smiled. "she's great! she's in the pack and play while i got ready. are you okay? how are you?"

"i'm fine?...look are you okay? you seem, hyper."

mat shrugged. "just excited. i have a surprise for you."

you blinked once. twice. three times. until the words finally registered with you. "a surprise?" you'd only known him for a month, how did he know you well enough to surprise you?

it was like a switch flipped and suddenly mat was rubbing the back of his neck and walking over to ella to find something to do. "well yeah," he said. "i know you said you didn't really know anything about hockey, so i thought you could come to the game today."

you opened your mouth to reply but he cut you off.

"an--and you could bring jason! i have two tickets, one for you, one for him."

"what about ella?" you asked. "her sleep schedule might be affected."

"i thought about that, but i talked to matt martin and he said sydney, his wife, had done it. worse comes to worst, we can set up a pack and play in the box and she could sleep there for the time being."

you looked at him, and really looked at him. usually, mat was full of confidence, walked around like he owned the place (which in this case, he kinda did). but now? he would barely meet your eye and kept rubbing the back of his neck like he had an itch there.

"i'll go!" you said to finally put him out of his misery. "i just--what do you wear to a hockey game?"

mat's eyes lit up like a kid on christmas. "you can wear my jersey!" you must've had a look on your face because he quickly backtracked. "or tito's! if you want."

"no!" you said before you could stop yourself. "no, i'll wear your jersey. i know you better anyway." you weren't sure what it was but the poorly concealed panic on mat's face did something to make you agree. jason probably wouldn't like it, but you could probably explain that everyone wore jerseys at games. it wasn't that big of a deal.

"great," mat smiled. "that's--that's great."

and it was. you stayed at mat's apartment until it was time to leave for the game. you were dressed in your jeans and threw mat's jersey over your shirt, when jason texted that he was outside. you tossed on a coat. you grabbed ella who was decked out in a mini barzal jersey and sweat pants and sitting in her car seat. you made a quick grab for the diaper bag before locking up.

you met jason down at his car where he sat in the driver's seat. he didn't get out to open the back seat for ella, the most he did was unlock the car. when you finally got her situated, you got in the front seat, not sparing him a glare at his lack of help.

"thanks for the assistance," you bit out.

"i didn't know what you wanted me to do. i'm not a mind reader!" jason snapped back as he pulled the car away from the curb. "besides, it's just a baby car seat, it's not like you couldn't handle it."

"it would've been nice had you even offered to grab the diaper bag or offered any help at all."

jason scoffed. "whatever."

not a word was spoken outside of ella's babbling in the back seat.

by the time the three of you arrived at the arena, you were hopeful that you could act like nothing happened. you got out of the car, and put the baby carrier on while jason grabbed the diaper bag. you quickly got ella situated in the carrier and put on the lanyard mat gave you, handing jason's to him.

the three of you started walking towards the arena. everything was fine until another fan made a comment when you got inside.

he pointed at you and shouted. "a house divided, eh?"

you furrowed your brows. what the hell was he talking about? you turned and looked at jason who was doing his best to look as confused as you were and failing horribly.

he was wearing a rangers jersey.

to the rangers and isles game.

when you were invited by mat.

you clenched your jaw and kept walking, not wanting to make a scene in front of everyone.

by the time you made it inside the box, you were fuming. you wanted so badly to scream at him for being a dick, but another part of you said he was allowed to wear a jersey for a team he liked. after all, that's what you were doing, right?

right?

not that you really had time to think about it because the prettiest woman you think you'd ever seen came bounding over to you with the whitest smile you'd ever seen in real life.

"hi!" she said. "i'm sydney, mat's told us so much about you and miss ella."

you introduced yourself and did your best to smile back, though you're not sure if it was convincing. "this is my boyfriend, jason."

for a moment, just a flicker of a second, the smile on sydney's face faltered. it was so quick you almost second guessed yourself that it ever happened in the first place. "i'm really excited you're here, we love new company." she grabbed you by the arm in a gentle way but with a strong enough grip that you knew you really had no other option. "let me introduce you to everyone!"

after introductions, you found yourself and ella a seat. you pulled her out of the carrier before taking the carrier and your coat off. an action you almost immediately regretted.

"are you fucking serious?" you heard jason say. you turned with ella in your arms to see his normally pale face burning red. "you're wearing his jersey?"

there were no words coming to your mind. the two of you had argued before, but you had never seen him this volatile before.

in a flash, he was in front of you yelling as spit flew from his mouth. you didn't even register what he was saying, how could you when ella was crying? all you remembered was mumbling an apology over and over but that only served to make him angrier.

it wasn't until sydney literally got between you two that he stopped screaming. he looked around to see everyone staring at the two of you and threw his hands up in the air. "you know what?" he said. "fuck you, i'm leaving. you can find another way home."

sydney was in front of you, trying to calm you and ella down but you couldn't hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears.

jason was never the nicest boyfriend, but he'd never been that angry before. you'd never been scared of him before.

"here," sydney said. "let's get you some water."

"ella's upset--"

"because she knows you're upset. once you calm down, you can calm her down."

you nodded and let her sit you in a chair and bring you a glass of water. once your hands stopped shaking, you were able to bring ella to your chest and rub her back in the way you knew she liked.

"i'm sorry," you said.

sydney just tilted her head in confusion. "what for?"

"i brought him here, i didn't know he'd act like that--"

"honey, you are not responsible for a grown man's reaction to a stupid jersey." she pulled her chair closer to yours. "so let's just put all of that on the back burner and enjoy the game, okay?"

you nodded and turned your attention back to the rink where the players were warming up. ella yawned and snuggled into your chest when it hit you.

you forgot the pack and play.

"shit."

"honey, i told you it's okay--"

"no," you laughed. "it's just i forgot the pack and play so my boyfriend isn't gonna be the only who's mad at me by the end of tonight."

sydney, despite the implications of your statement, smiled. "she'll live," she said. "mine have definitely missed bedtime before and they're turning out alright. just means tomorrow might be a little difficult."

"thanks, sydney.'

"anytime!"

the two of you turned your attention to the rink where the game was beginning. occasionally, you'd get up and bounce ella around the suite, but for the most part, she was content as long as she was in your arms. by the time the second period was over, the isles were tied with the rangers 1-1.

ella had long since fallen asleep in the carrier with her thumb in her mouth. the tears were long gone by then, both of you having calmed down significantly since the start of the game. though now your heart was racing due to the intensity of the game instead of the screaming of your boyfriend.

despite your anger at him earlier, and the fear you felt before he left, you still found yourself checking your phone periodically for any text or missed call he might've left.

nothing.

you were so focused, you nearly missed mat's one goal of the night but your attention was brought to the game when you heard sydney shout his name.

you smiled as you watched him celebrate his goal, skating around the rink and shouting. you were too high up to see if he smiled the same way he did when he looked at ella, with that same look of pride. maybe you'd come back to another game to see it up close and personal for yourself.

the isles won 2-1.

sydney, ella, and you waited in the suite until the stands had mostly cleared out, then the three of you made your way down to the locker rooms. ella was out like a light, and you couldn't blame her. you were out later than you had been in months.

you and sydney made small talk while you waited for mat and matt. you watched as other players greeted their friends and family, smiling at the hugs and kisses going around.

it wasn't until matt martin came out that the tears started coming back. the way his face lit up at the sight of his wife, the kiss her gave her that was almost too inappropriate for a public place--

you would've given anything to be loved like that.

in the two years you'd dated jason, you couldn't remember him ever looking at you like that, like you were his entire universe.

you cleared your throat and rubbed at your eyes just in time for mat and tito to walk out.

"mama bear!" tito called. he started to jog over but slowed down when he saw ella asleep in the carrier.

mat, however, looked you over. his brows pulled together and his lips turned down in a small frown. it didn't make sense on the face of someone who shot the game winning goal.

but it made sense for an observant friend who noticed the plus one you came with.

"where's jason?" he asked.

"i--"

sydney cut in with a smile on her face as she dragged her husband over. "this is mat's nanny, babe. the one i was telling you about?"

you could've kissed her feet for the change in subject.

"nice to meet you in person, finally. barzy over here talks about you and ella all the time." matt stuck his hand out to shake, ignoring the glares of the other mat.

"well, we gotta get home to the girls," sydney said. "nice to meet you finally. maybe i'll see you at another game, yeah?" you smiled and nodded and watched as the happy couple walked away.

when they were finally out of sight, you turned your attention back to mat and tito, both whom looked a little too good in their suits.

"where's jason?" mat asked for the second time now that you didn't have another person around to interrupt you.

"he left," was all you said.

"he left you here? alone?"

you nodded. "and he took the car seat."

mat nodded and clenched his jaw while tito glanced back and forth between you two. "i'll drive you home. thankfully, he took the bonus car seat and not the one i use."

you mumbled a small thanks and watched dumbly as he scooped the diaper bag off your shoulder and put it on his own. "mat i can carry it just fine--"

"sounds like you've been carrying enough on your own. i got it."

you had no rebuttal, so you followed him and tito out to the garage. tito parted ways when you reached mat's car. he bid you a silent wave and smile as a form of goodbye and headed to his own vehicle.

you didn't speak until mat started the car. not even when the both of you were loading ella carefully into the car seat or putting the diaper bag in the back. you didn't even say anything when he handed you his phone to plug your address in.

it was silent until you mumbled a small "thank you."

"for what?" he asked.

'"for taking me home. for inviting me to the game even when jason..." you trailed off.

"when jason...?" he implored you to go on. you hesitated. "cmon, you've seen me at my worst, scared about this new baby and raising her. you can trust me."

you sighed. "jason kind of lost his mind tonight and made a huge scene. i tried apologizing to sydney but she wouldn't have it. i'm just sorry that we embarrassed you like that."

mat went real quiet for a second. and in the corner of your eye, you saw his fists grip the steering wheel a little tighter. "what did he say?"

"huh?"

"i saw the look on your face when we came out. he said something that upset you. what did he say?"

and how do you say you didn't remember words just feelings? you couldn't remember the insults he hurled your way, but you remembered the sting of his tone and the burn of his spit and the pure rage in his eyes. you could remember shaking like a leaf during fall and the cries of ella muffled by the jersey with her last name on the back and her father's number on the sleeve.

mat called your name. "i don't remember." he didn't look convinced. "i really don't. he said a lot of things but i blocked most of it out," you said thinking that would placate him.

if anything, it made him angrier.

but he didn't say anything, mainly because your apartment was approaching and he didn't have time. mat parked the car out in front of your building and turned his flashers on.

"you need me to walk you up?" he asked.

you shook your head. "you have ella in the back. i'll be fine."

"text me when you get inside."

any other day, you would've argued with him, but you were just glad someone cared enough about your wellbeing to ask, so you nodded and opened the door.

you got into the elevator, hands wringing themselves together. you wondered what you'd tell your roommate natalie, if you'd tell her anything. but considering how much jason liked to make your relationship business natalie's business, she probably already knew and she probably was waiting on the couch ready to chastise you.

the elevator doors opened at your floor. you walked down the hallway towards your front door. you pulled your phone out, ready to text mat when you heard noises coming from inside your apartment.

your first thought was: intruders. but when listening a little harder, it just sounded like moans. you rolled your eyes and carefully and quietly unlocked the door. only to be confronted with clothes strewn about the living area. natalie's shirt, shorts, socks, all leading on a less than ideal trail to her bedroom. you shouldn't be surprised given how active she's been lately. you just never expected it to be this in your face.

you continued into your apartment, two seconds away from texting mat when you saw it.

a rangers jersey.

taglist:

@whenmypartysover @sunflowerhood @spencereidbasis @icanfsplel @avareadsthings @zegraswrites @calermakar @heyitsmeimdead @kashee-h @bordelhoe

[riverlikethelake]

A Long Way Home pt.2

Ao'nung x Omatikayan!Fem!Reader 

Summary – You meet Ao'nung at the cluster of rocks, unexpectedly you find yourself wanting to be around him more, but that proves difficult when your family seems to disagree with your growing connection.

Contains: Mentions of death, mature language, complex parental relationships, heavy development on platonic/family relationships, fluff, OOC Neteyam, reader wants to make everyone happy :(

Word count: 4k

I was up absurdly late to finish this, so please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes :)

Part 1 …. Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

You made sure to stay out of the middle of the cuddle pile, wanting to avoid getting caught sneaking out. It was dark out but the luminescence of coral under you was enough to help you navigate, you kept your head low as a few villagers were still out and about.   

As you approached the rock, you looked around but didn’t see him. He must have a harder time sneaking out at the Olo’eyktan’s son you reasoned. You sat on the edge of the rock and noticed a flower a few feet away, lying where you were sitting earlier. You reached over to grab it, twirling it between your fingers, admiring the layers of petals and the stamen that swirled and glowed.    

You were too focused on the flower to notice the eyes watching you from only so far. He was almost fully submerged save for his eyes up, intending to stay hidden. He watched as you examined the flower, holding it at different angles, lips parted and slowly forming a smile. It was purple with a pink undertone, a much lighter shade spotted across the petals.   

If you were this intrigued by a mere flower like that, he wondered what you’d look like with a bouquet or one from farther into the island, his mind already noting a few he thinks you’d like.   

After a few minutes you laid on your back, holding the flower above your face, still admiring it but now less interested. You lowered the flower to your lips, now in favor of looking at the stars. You started to wonder where he was when you heard a noise that reminded you of Neytiri’s calls, you immediately sat up and started to look around.   

You heard the noise again and a smirk appeared on your face, so he was playing this game huh? You stood up and made your own call as you walked into the water mounting your ilu, you waited for a moment and heard it again with your ears perked, it was fainter, but you could pinpoint the direction it was coming from.    

Quietly your ilu swam in the direction, keeping you above water. It became a rhythm, two short calls from him then one longer call from you. Even with the bioluminescence, you had to completely rely on the sound of his voice to navigate, never being able to see more than a few feet ahead of you.   

 You must have swum through the entire reef, almost to the other side of the island before he had turned around, you arrived back to the rock you started from, except he was standing in the middle this time.    

He walked closer and helped you unmount, he kept hold of your hand and stood closely, looking at you with his signature sly grin.    

“That was amusing but not enough to make it up to me” you said playfully. He only leaned in closer, “Oh is that so?” he humored you.   

You hadn’t realized his hand was behind his back until he moved it, revealing a flower like the one before, except it was a deep blue. “It's beautiful” you murmured; he smiled nodding in agreement.   

You went to take the flower, “It reminded me of you” he whispered, you paused, fingers touching his right at the stem.   

You looked up at him trying to decipher what he meant by that, your fears washed away when you saw the softness in his gaze, completely absorbed in your eyes and face. You held eye contact with each other, the only sound being the movement of waves and each other's breathing.    

You were about to speak when a voice interrupted you, “Y/n?” You jumped to see Neteyam on his Ilu a few feet away, he narrowed his eyes at the two of you. “Where have you been?”   

Panicking, you hid the flower behind you, but you're unsure if you did it in time. “I couldn’t sleep” you offered, he stared at you unconvinced. “Ao’nung found me wandering around and said that this was the spot he goes to” you explained awkwardly. “... the waves crashing against the terraces is relaxing”  

He looked to Ao’nung who nodded stiffly. He took a deep breath. “Come on, if mom and dad wake up, they’ll be worried”    

You nodded and turned to Ao’nung wishing him a goodnight, you stood for a moment and as you turned to leave, he whispered. “I’ll finish making it up to you tomorrow”   

You try to hide your smile as you mount your Ilu and start making your way back to the village.    

“I don’t want you around him anymore” Neteyam said, breaking the silence.   

“That’s going to be hard considering he’s teaching us how to live here”    

“I'm serious Y/n... I don’t want to have to babysit you.” He warned   

You rolled your eyes. “That seems unnecessary, I thought we were twins?”   

“I’m still older than you” He moved forward and pulled in front of you stopping, “I’m just worried about you Y/n.” he explained earnestly.   

Of course he was. Being protective was always in his nature, and with everything that’s happened with Kiri and Lo’ak it’s no surprise it's come to a head.   

After a moment, you nodded and moved forward so you were side by side again. He smiled and placed his hand on your arm, nudging you in a comforting manner.  He led you back into the Marui quietly so as not wake mom or dad, as you both carefully laid back down with the family, he placed himself so that you were on the inside.   

You internally rolled your eyes, but when Tuk rolled over, throwing her arm over your ribcage you turned on your side to cuddle her, Neteyam placing his hand on your shoulder and forehead between your shoulder blades. Even though you were still upset at Neteyam for ruining your moment with Ao’nung, you couldn’t help but smile as you drifted to sleep.  

-  

Despite agreeing to stay away from Ao’nung, Neteyam still practically stuck to your side the entire day, always finding a reason to drag you away when Ao’nung lingered near you for too long, you always shot him an apologetic look as you moved away.  

You had expected this type of behavior from Lo’ak, but you thought Neteyam would atleast try to be more lenient about it. Though, the more you thought about it, it made sense, Lo’ak had always protected you more on a physical level, while Neteyam did so in an emotional and mental way.   

It pained you to have to basically ignore Ao’nung, but you hadn’t even known him all that long, and if ignoring him for a little while brought your brother’s worries to a rest, you reasoned it wouldn’t be that bad.  

You spent most of your day tending to your siblings.  

You teased Lo’ak after he lost control of his Ilu while passing by Tsireya, who was dancing on the walkways with a bunch of younger children. You raced each other around the reef, seeing who could do the more impressive moves.  

You snuck up behind Tuk, picked her up and mimicked body slamming her into the water, throwing her into a fit of giggles before she started splashing and throwing wet sand at you. You’d bring her onto the docks, carrying her in your arms, then throw her into the water.  

You spent most of your day like that, riding around with Tuk, diving deep into the reef to watch Kiri do her in-sync thing she always does with the nature around her.  

That’s how you ended up in a cavern with her, as she told you about how she felt different, how she could hear Eywa’s heartbeat. Her connection to the great mother had always been strong, and while you couldn’t understand, you could listen, and you knew what it was like to feel different.  

She leaned her head on your shoulder as you talked about different things, missing the forest and spider, life here at the cove, your siblings, she even teased you about Ao’nung when you brought up Lo’ak and Tsireya. You denied that anything was going on, but it was hard to fool Kiri.  

You don’t know how the conversation started but you told her a bit about how you never really felt like a sully, that Jake and Neytiri didn’t see you as their child, sometimes you felt like you were just someone tagging along.  

“Mom loves you a lot, even if you don’t see it.” Kiri began, “When they decided to leave and you went for a fly, she was so worried about whether you’d come or not” now it was your turn to be resting your head on her shoulder.  

“After telling grandma about the plan, she waited by the opening until she saw you coming back” She continued. “And dad was a mess whenever you were sick” She chuckled. “Always asking for updates on you, asking grandma and I if there were any remedies we could think of.”  

You two talked for a while longer, you hadn’t really had a moment with her since you arrived at the cove, so it was nice. After a while you started yawning and she insisted you go back, you hadn’t realized how dark it was until you resurfaced.  

Soon after, Ao’nung and Lo’ak approached you both. “Where were you two?” Lo’ak demanded.  

“We couldn’t find you and started to worry.” Ao’nung added.  

“We’re ok, we were just talking and lost track of time” Kiri pacified Lo’ak, but Ao’nung moved closer.  

“Where were you two?” he questioned, you pointed out the cavern under water and he frowned.   

“What's wrong?”  

He rubbed the back of his neck, “I was going to take you there ...” he said mumbling the last part, you couldn’t understand but didn’t have the chance to ask him to repeat himself.  

“Y/n! Kiri!” Tsireya called out, swimming towards you. “Where were you? Neteyam has been worried sick”   

You assured her everything was fine, and you all headed back to the beach, meeting up with Neteyam on the way who was relieved that you both were fine. 

“Y/n you act stupid in the forest as is, you shouldn't be acting stupid here.” You heard Kiri laugh and you glared at her before sticking your tounge out to Neteyam. 

- 

The next few days were more or less the same, swimming lessons and spending time with your siblings, but it became increasingly obvious that Ao’nung was starting to realize that it wasn’t just a coincidence that one of your brothers was always by your side or close by, preventing him from having a moment to talk to you.  

Thankfully he didn’t press it, but he was always stealing glances at you and leaving flowers in places he knew you’d find them. You wanted to talk to him so badly, but you had to bide your time, Jake’s pressure on Neteyam hadn’t let up much and until it did you weren’t about to stress him even more.  

Turns out patience was the key. Neteyam was caught up in arguing with Lo’ak about something, you weren’t trying to sneak away, you just didn’t want to listen to their fighting anymore and there was a particular part of the reef that was especially calming.   

You found yourself swimming close to the surface, gliding through the water and simply enjoying being there. You were watching everything this time, the view from above just as enchanting as up close.  

Out of the corner of your eye you saw Ao’nung swimming close to the floor, he turned to face once he was directly in your line of sight. He smiled at you; you could make that out even from so far. You dove down closer, he didn’t move until you were several feet away, swimming forward and up. You were now at the same level but a good distance still between you.  

You don’t know why you were able to follow him so in sync, but you started swimming around each other, your movements in the water much more graceful than before. It felt like a dance, a connection you didn’t realize you missed, only taking your eyes off each other for only a few seconds each time.   

He watched as you twirled, hair wrapping around you, arms moving in a way that seamlessly carried you through the water. Slowly you inched closer, he resisted reaching out to you when you were in range, letting the nature of the dance bring you together.   

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you were now face to face with him, unconsciously you raised your hand, he followed and intertwined your fingers. A soft smile on his lips, he pulled you upwards to the surface.  

“Forest girl has been ignoring me huh?” He teased.  

You scrunched your nose, “No, you’ve seen how Neteyam has been trailing me” you defended. “This is the once chance I've been able to have with you” you lowered yourself so only your eyes up were above the water.  

He chuckled and pulled you up with the hand he was still holding. “Is there a reason forest boy has been so protective?”  

Sheepishly, you nodded. “He got onto me after he found us that night...” you averted your eyes. “He’s worried and doesn’t want me to be around you.”  

He frowned. “Why? Does he think I'll hurt you?”  

“Well, you haven’t exactly done anything to make him not think that...” you said, cocking your head forward.  

His gaze softened. “Is there anything I can do to make it right?”   

You saw out of the corner of your eye your siblings and Tsireya approaching. “This will pass over, for now just ...respect his wishes” you didn’t like saying it but there wasn’t much of a choice.  

He got closer “And what if I don’t want to?” His voice was at a whisper, but it was firm, sending a shiver down your spine.  

You stared for a moment, you glanced back to the group before him again, a smirk forming on your lips. “Then I guess we’ll have to get them off our backs” You called for your ilu, nodding for him to do the same. “Rocks. Tonight.”  

You mounted and glared at him, he furrowed his brows, “Why are you so insistent on being an ass?” you yelled loud enough for them to hear.  

You watched as he caught on. “Yeah well, you’re a piece of work yourself forest girl”  

You turned your back on him and started for the group. “Yeah yeah I'm the problem here.” You could see the confused expressions on your siblings' faces, Tsireya looking especially concerned as you got closer to them.  

“You think you’re so smart, but you're just a forest girl thrashing around in the water” He didn’t play mad, he had to be a jerk.  

“Skxawng!” you bit back  

“I think I was wrong before, I guess there is a freak in the family.” He spits  

“Muntxa hu pa'li nang!” You pretend to be offended, seething through your teeth. By now you were right in front of the group, they all had different expressions, Kiri and Lo’ak were in disbelief and Neteyam looked as if he was about to rip Ao’nung’s head off. “No wonder Tsireya was chosen to lead the clan instead of you!”  

He hissed at you, you hissed back harsher and promptly swam away, him going in the opposite direction. You had to dive underwater to keep yourself from laughing.  

-  

Ao’nung didn’t quite know what to do next, so he just hung out with Rotxo until his sister came storming up to him.  

“Ao’nung you Skxawng!” She flicked his forehead. “Why would you do that?”  

He rubbed the patch she flicked and ignored her question. “I’m surprised the brothers didn’t come after me.”  

“They almost did, it took forever for Kiri and I to convince them that being by Y/n’s side would be more comforting that beating you up.” she explained exasperated.  

He couldn’t tell her the truth, it would make their entire charade pointless, so he just shrugged.  

“What do you think you are doing brother? I thought you liked her but here you are insulting her!” She continued to ream him, he would have walked away by now, but he figured it wouldn’t be worth the risk of running into one of your brothers, or even your father if he has caught word...   

So, he stood there, getting berated by his sister. He knew she meant well, and it warmed his heart to know she cared so much about you.  

On the other side of the village, you sat in the Marui pretending to sulk as Neteyam and Lo’ak tried to comfort you, how Kiri and Tsireya talked them into this you don’t know. Their attempts were endearing, but it was hard to stay in character and not laugh.   

Neteyam and Lo’ak weren’t good at consoling in general, but it was still nice to have their comforting and loving words.   

You didn’t say much, just that it was you who caused the fight (technically not a lie) and you didn’t want to talk to him for a while. It took you a minute, but you convinced your siblings to not hold a grudge against him, that this was between you two and you also said a lot of shitty things.  

You also convinced them to not tell Jake and Neytiri, you didn’t need another pair of eyes on you and Ao-nung, especially not with how strict they were.  

It was now pretty late, Neteyam had gone to sleep a while ago which gave you the opportunity to continue his necklace, mostly everyone was settled down except for Jake. Ideally you wanted everyone to be asleep, but you didn’t want to keep Ao’nung waiting long, so you placed the necklace down, muttering something about not going to be able to sleep and left.  

As you got in the water it dawned on you that you hadn’t exactly given Ao’nung any real directions, you bit your lip, mentally chastising yourself, which led to you wondering if he would even come, if maybe you went too far with your comments earlier... you had to stop overthinking.  

Taking a deep breath, you continued on to the intended meeting place, a breath of relief coming out when you saw him sitting on the edge. Like he could sense your arrival, he turned his head to look at you, standing up to meet you in the middle.  

“Took you long enough” he said, taking your hand and leading you back over to where he was sitting.   

“I’m sorry, my dad was awake, and I was trying to wait for him to go to sleep” You whined, he chuckled at your pouting.  

“It’s ok, just actually give me a time next time” he teased, you could feel your cheeks burn. Changing the subject, you asked if there was another cave, he was willing to show you since Kiri stole his thunder.  

He chuckled but shook his head. “Tell me about the forest.” That caught you off guard. “I want to know more about you” he took your hand, your fingertips resting in his palm as he observed them. “You’ve been here for weeks, and all we’ve done is swim around the reef and argue, tell me about you.” He looked up, locking eyes with you.  

Butterflies in your stomach was an understatement.   

“The forest was...” You thought, looking out at the reef trying to grasp the right words. “Mighty and serene” a smile grew on your lips. “Everything was one, one pulsing life you could feel beneath your feet. We slept in hammocks high above ground, running across branches larger than the roots your homes are built into.” You nudge him with your elbow, he only rolled his eyes.  

“When I tamed my ikran, we fell from the cliff before I could make the connection, and all I remember thinking is how beautiful the world below me was.” You recalled the memory fondly, but Ao’nung had a deeply troubled look on his face, causing you to burst out laughing.  

“You almost die and all you do is enjoy the view??” he asked in disbelief. “You really are your brothers’ sister...”  

“How could I not? I mean of course I was panicking but I got it under control” you defended with a grin “Of course Norm and Max absolutely threw a fit when they found out” you snickered. 

Ao’nung frowned a bit, and you realized that aside from stories (and technically Jake) the Meykayina didn’t know much about humans, and the scientists didn’t have Na’vi passing names. “They’re the humans who helped raise me” You explained, but internally faced palmed because that wouldn’t make it any better, humans are demons to Na’vi. 

He only looked more confused, “Why? Were your parents too busy with three other kids?” he smirked. 

You chuckled before you found yourself growing anxious, it wasn’t kept a secret that you weren’t a sully, but you also weren’t keen on announcing it. 

“I actually never met my parents” you say casually, not wanting to ruin the mood, but you saw Ao’nung’s face fall. “They were close to the scientists, and yeah Jake and Neytiri did have a lot on their plate,” You joked. “They were gone by the time I was a few months old, so Norm and Max took me in.”  

It wasn’t hard to talk about, it was sad, but you didn’t know your parents at all. Unlike Kiri, you had no way to remember your mother, you didn’t even really know about her until a few years ago when Jake mentioned her difficult pregnancy being the cause of your human body being frail. 

“So, why’d you come with the Sullys?” he asked, you thought for a moment, you couldn’t tell him about you being human before, so you decided to change the story a bit. 

“I got into an accident and almost died when I was young, it freaked them out and they got worried that they were putting me at a disadvantage, Jake and Neytiri agreed to raise me from then on since I was older.” You sat back staring into the night sky. “Plus, I was always inseparable from them, coming was a decision they left up to me.” 

He wrapped his hand around the one he was holding, “I’m glad you decided to come” he smiled. 

You grinned, a blush rising on your cheeks. “Yeah, I bet you are.” 

That earned you a rough shove into the water. 

- 

You tried not to stay out too long but when you saw Jake standing outside the Marui when you returned, you cringed hard. You avoided eye contact as you got back on the walkway, before you could say anything he placed a hand on your shoulder and gestured for you to sit on the edge with him. 

“I heard about what happened today” he said, you held your breath. Tuk... “And I know it must be hard, but I think it’s for the best.” 

You pursed your lips, not sure how to respond. 

“Right now, we need to stick together as a family” You resisted the urge to ask if that included spider.... “Sullys stick together, I need you to show them that.” You knew what he was trying to say, if you didn’t know better you would have thought Neteyam told him. 

Jake meant well; you knew that. He had always been just as protective as your brothers. You nodded and he pulled you in for a hug, you felt guilty about not telling your family the truth, but it was the only way to take their worry off you without sacrificing your friendship with Ao’nung. You let yourself relax in his arms; he smiled as he picked you up to bring you to bed like you were a child again. 

You were the last to wake up in the morning, your family wanting to give you some extra peace and time for yourself. You took your time getting up, thinking about last night, everything about it. 

It made you feel sluggish, swearing to stop staying out so late as it seemed to cause all the stressful conversations. 

As you were about to walk out of the Marui, you saw a flower lying right in the entrance. A shy grin spread across your face, heat rushing to your cheeks. 

Maybe staying out late was worth it... 

[amateurvoltaire]

The Deputy of Humanity

In August 1790, Robespierre, then deputy in the National Assembly, received a letter from a young man in Aisne. The subject of the letter was of little consequence in the grand scheme of things: the author was expressing his concern that the free monthly markets for grain and sheep in his village of Blérancourt might be moved to the rival village of Coucy.

The subject of the letter may have been trivial, but its author was not. Louis Antoine Saint-Just, not yet twenty-three, was quickly outgrowing local politics and had his eyes on debuting on the national stage. In around two years’ time, he would become one of Robespierre’s closest allies. But back in 1790, the young man only knew him “like God, through miracles” ("comme Dieu, par des merveilles"). This would be the first contact between the two men.

The letter has been widely translated, quoted, and speculated on. It is very well-written, with the effusive admiration and almost hero worship of the young man practically jumping off the page. Whether Saint-Just was entirely genuine or not is hardly consequential. Robespierre clearly found his admiration touching because he kept the letter until the end of his life.

The fact that Robespierre kept the letter is a sweet gesture that can be interpreted in a myriad of different ways. Perhaps he enjoyed the flattery, or maybe he wanted to keep a memento of the beginning of their friendship with Saint-Just. Maybe he simply forgot to throw it away. In my opinion, it's not very important.

What I find more interesting and revealing about Robespierre's character is that a young lieutenant colonel of the National Guard of the department of Aisne felt empowered to raise his provincial concerns to a deputy who wasn't even representing his constituency. Why would he do that? Setting aside Saint-Just's audacity and desire for recognition, the simple reason is that he knew he would be heard.

Since the days of the Estates General, Robespierre had not only been gaining popularity but was also notorious for standing up for the interests of the common man beyond his own province (later on department). For all the flattery, Saint-Just was right: Robespierre wasn’t only the deputy from Arras; he was “[the deputy] of humanity and the Republic (1)”. He frequently weighed in, as a dissenting voice, on matters of national importance, maintaining a consistent stance that always favoured the underdog. This was nothing new. His entire career in Arras had been built on helping the common man. On a national stage, he vocally continued that work.

He opposed the king's veto power over constitutional laws and emphasized the sovereignty of the nation over monarchical traditions. He also opposed the exclusion of "passive" citizens (2) from the National Guard and advocated for extending voting rights. All this, along with his defense of civic equality for various groups, including actors, Protestants, and Jews, solidified his position as a defender of the people.

Despite facing mockery from royalist publications and some of his peers, he remained steadfast in his dedication to the universal principles of the Revolution, with the most crucial principle being the sovereignty of the people. If the people are sovereign, then their grievances are significant. It's understandable that Saint-Just would reach out to him regarding the issue with the village market. He wasn't the only one.

For what it's worth, Robespierre probably didn’t intervene in the matter, but Blérancourt ultimately did retain its markets.

Translation (3)

Blérancourt, near Noyon, August 19, 1790

You who support the faltering homeland against the torrent of despotism and intrigue, you whom I know only, like God, through miracles; I address you, sir, to ask you to join me in saving my sad country.

The town of Coucy has transferred (so the rumour goes here) the free markets from the village of Blérancourt. Why should the cities swallow up the privileges of the countryside? Then, nothing will remain for the latter but the taille (direct tax) and taxes! Please, support with all your talent a petition that I am sending by the same mail, in which I ask for my inheritance to be joined to the national domains of the district so that my country may retain a privilege without which it must starve.

I do not know you, but you are a great man. You are not just the representative of a province; you are that of humanity and the Republic. Please ensure that my request is not scorned.

I have the honour of being, sir, your humble and obedient servant,

Saint-Just,

elector (4) in the department of Aisne.

Notes

(1) Here Saint-Just doesn't refer to Republic as a form of government, but uses the word as a substitute for nation/country. In 1790 France was a constitutional monarchy.

(2)Passive citizens were those who, for a variety of reasons (mostly tax related), were not allowed to vote. (3) The parts that are in bold, are underlined in the original . As usual, this is my own translation and you can surely find much better ones out there!

(4) Touchy subject...

(BONUS) The letter is Recto-Verso. The small red arrows in the image indicate where the back page starts. I edited the two sides in one image for ease of reading.

Source

I really like Saint-Just but his handwriting is just as bad as mine (yes. I can barely read mine either). The french text of the letter comes from:

Saint-Just, Louis Antoine Léon. Œuvres. Paris: Gallimard, 2014

[sgt-tombstone]

https://www. tumblr. com/tiktoks-repost/664415151341076480

saw this and now i'm picturing soapghost in this situation

link, you’re so right anon

I’m thinking an au where Soap is part of a search and rescue team and Ghost, who was discharged for medical reasons but still lives close to base, gets bullied volunteered by his old captain, Price, to be a casualty victim for the CSAR (combat search and rescue) drills

Ghost would hate it, because it reminds him of actually being injured, but Price always makes sure that his fake injury is vastly different from the real one that got him discharged, and he actually has a lot of fun playing a victim. He knows how real injuries work, how real victims act in the heat of combat, and he really enjoys getting to play “bad” victims (ones who refuse treatment or are combative, because the PJs need to know how to deal with that too)

He’s never really treated it as anything more serious than helping to train soldiers to do their jobs better, but then he’s leaning up against the side of a house in the middle of a field in the base training grounds, and he sees a pair of brilliant blue eyes approaching, startling in their intensity and almost scary in their conviction, and Ghost thinks that maybe, for the first time, he might be in over his head.

The soldier scans the area, gun at the ready, because the first step in a search and rescue situation is securing the premise (and fuck, this guy is well-trained, Ghost thinks to himself, half-sullenly and half-grudgingly impressed, he knows what he’s doing), and then he drops to his knees by Ghost’s side. His gaze drops to the card in Ghost’s hand, marking Ghost as an amputee with a sucking chest wound (a far cry from the brush fire that had caused 3rd degree burns along his entire left side and more skin grafts than Ghost could count). Ghost tries not to be upset about the loss of eye contact, especially when the man opens his mouth.

“I’m Soap,” he says, thick accent distracting from the utter ridiculousness of his call sign. He’s deadly serious, both his tone and face conveying his devotion to rescuing Ghost. “I’m gonnae get ye out of here, I promise.”

Normally, Ghost would thrash around a bit, maybe have some fun letting out a little cry (who ever said he wasn’t a good actor? Price kept bringing him back for a reason, and he was directly responsible for many CSAR operatives developing eye twitches. But they were better soldiers for it, so who really won?) but he can only stare as Soap starts undoing his tac vest (the only time he still gets to wear it) and pulling on gloves to start simulating treatment for Ghost’s fake wound.

He keeps one hand braced on Ghost’s chest, apparently where he’s decided the sucking chest wound would be, applying pressure while preparing a dressing (god, who approved the funds for all of the equipment they wasted in practice? Ghost wasn’t about to start complaining) and pressing a chest seal against Ghost’s bare skin. He tells Ghost to exhale, then secures the dressing. It’s a textbook treatment, as far as Ghost can tell (and he’s done this a lot) but there’s something about Soap’s sure hands, his unwavering haze, his steady presence, that makes it feel like something more.

When Soap moves down to pull up his pant leg, obviously intent on treating his fake leg amputation, Ghost stops breathing altogether, and if he ends the day by receiving very real CPR from a very concerned Soap (as well as Soap’s personal phone number), well… what Price won’t know won’t hurt him, right??

(he’ll be Ghost’s best man at the wedding two years later, and his speech will have many, many innuendos about a certain sucking chest wound, much to Simon’s mortification)