#chapter four now! :D

[the-ninja-legacy-whip]

.:The Legend of the Green Ninja Lives:. ~Chapter 8: To Each Their Own Brand of Justice~

Summary: Lloyd thinks things are finally looking up a little bit—except, his friends are suddenly acting weird about Ninja stuff, the Shark Army rears its ugly head again, and now the group is faced with (another) alarming ultimatum...

. . .

What's that??? Tired of seeing nothing but certain spoilers for a certain season??? Have no fear—read this instead!!!! *jazz hands*

[inkykeiji]

if caleb doesn’t stop ruffling my hair and calling me pipsqueak i’m going to sneak into his bedroom and suck his cock :)

[vargaslovinghours]

Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?

My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!

(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)

-----

Side B

What the fuck.

"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"

What the fuck.

"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"

No. That's enough.

Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.

He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.

What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!

This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.

There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.

If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.

Nothing.

Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.

Maybe he really had-

Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.

How could he do this

This is all his fault

Stupid, idiotic

He can't do this to me

I can't believe him

I can't believe this

How dare he leave me alone like this

Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.

He can't do this to me.

He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.

This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.

Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?

He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.

He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.

Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.

His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.

Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!

This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-

He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.

Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?

That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...

He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.

There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.

Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...

He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.

Ah-

The room was still in something of a state.

Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.

He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.

Silence.

Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.

He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.

His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.

He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.

He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.

I'm no one to him.

Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.

Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.

His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.

Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.

He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.

"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"

Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.

"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.

When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-

Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.

"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"

Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.

"I want to verify some things first."

Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.

He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.

"Todd's last name?"

Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.

"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!

"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.

Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.

He was supposed to be the most important.

It was frustrating.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.

Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...

Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.

He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.

Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.

"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.

"...Johnny?"

"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.

"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."

"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.

"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.

"You haven't."

"Have you?"

He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.

"I remember he called, too."

"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.

"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."

Of course not. I took over for half of those.

He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.

"You know."

He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.

He could work with that.

"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.

"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.

"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.

His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...

Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.

He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.

"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"

"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.

"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.

"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.

"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-

"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"

He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.

Huh. Ironic.

"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."

"Argued?"

"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."

It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.

"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.

He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.

"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!

He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"

Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.

"Yes."

"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"

The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.

"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."

"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.

"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."

Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."

"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.

"No, sorry, you're right."

"Thank you." He was right!

Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.

"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."

Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.

"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.

Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.

"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!

"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.

"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"

Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.

"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.

Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.

The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.

He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.

While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.

By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.

"Ugh, lame."

"I don't-"

"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."

"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.

"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."

He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."

He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.

"Wh-"

"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."

Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.

Where are you?

But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.

"C...can I have my arm back now?"

He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.

He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.

He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.

As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.

But he was tired. Not in his right mind.

Does this mean we can start over...?

The thought echoed and died, and he slept.

[mittensmorgul]

🥹

[sysig]

Me while rereading: You should kill him

Also:

They marriages hehe ♥

[queen-scribbles]

So anyway, the result of this experience is I love Nate Sewell about five times more now, and he’s got a pretty solid grip on being my favorite RO.🥰

for now

[soraavalon]

Marigold (OOC): Out of character, you should see if you can get expense your spending for the Revivify. DM: Hmm. Nathaniel (OOC): Oh yeah. Tark (OOC): Oh yeah. Marigold (OOC): We're allowed to expense things. DM: How much is that? Tark (OOC): Oh bitch... DM: It's not cheap. Hunt (OOC): Wasn't it 300 gold? Tark (OOC): How many didi... Where was it? 'Cause I bought them a hot minute ago so give me just a second. My god, if I can get that money back, cha-ching DM: Yeah, 'cause you need it (sarcasm) Hunt (OOC): Didn't you make Vanessa pay you some money? Tark (OOC): No. Not yet, that was supposed to be in the... she was supposed to send that later 'cause I don't think she had that money on her. Hunt (OOC): I think she did. Tark (OOC): Did she? Did I misremember that then? Hunt (OOC): *flips through my binder of notes* I know it's in the notes somewhere. Tark (OOC): 'Cause I spent 1500 gold on diamonds for Revivify. Hunt (OOC): And one diamond is 300. Tark (OOC): Yeah. Hunt (OOC): *continues flipping* Okay where is it? Tark (OOC): 'Cause I had to make sure you bitches didn't die on me. 'Caus I thought we mentioned it, but I didn't think she had it on her. Hunt (OOC): 'Tark bills Vanessa 300 gold for the Revivity diamond. Pays 30 platinum.' Tark (OOC): Oh. DM: Oh. You've already been paid. Tark (OOC): Okay--- Marigold (OOC): You can still lie. DM: *laughs* You can still commit fraud. Tark (OOC): I am. DM: You can embezzle from the guild. Tark (OOC): I will. DM: Everyone will know that you're doing it. Tark (OOC): No, I'll bring it up at a later date when nobody else is there. Hunt (OOC): Though you might get in a little bit of hot water with Carver. Tark (OOC): Oh shit.

[hoshigray]

Hellooo, I have a requesttt. Bully!Geto & bully!gojo x reader please!!

𝐚. 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: didn't know how to tackle this, but I think I got it >:3

⊹ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Geto + Gojo x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern au! college setting; satosugu + you are juniors - sex in shared space; college dorm - fingering (f! receiving) - breast fondling + nipple play - oral (m! receiving) - facials - clitoral play (pinching and swiping) - Eiffel Tower/spit-roasting position - slight degradation - pet names (baby, crybaby, cutie, good girl, plaything, pretty girl, sweetheart) - unprotected sex (doesn't shoot inside, tho) - mention of tears and drool.

⊹ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.4k

“—Gaaahh!! N-Noo, shtop! No more, no mo—Oooh!”

“Aww, don’t go cryin’ on us yet; let’s see how much this pussy can cum!”

“Satoru, keep playing with their nipples; they keep gripping my fingers like crazy…”

Being bullied seems to be an everyday thing for a wimp like you—especially in the hands of Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto.

What kind of person lets two of the hottest guys in the school bully them? You’re practically nearly a full-ass grown adult; you shouldn’t be letting people push you around like it’s middle school! And yet, you can’t seem to bring yourself to stand for yourself, too meek and reserved to step up the ladder of confrontation, even if it’s from people who’ve tormented you most of your life.

Gojo and Geto have been your bullies for nearly your entire academic life, starting from first grade. To say that your life was hell on Earth was just the surface, coming home in tears and wishing to disappear every single day. The emotional toil was too much to bear, so much so that you did everything in your power to make sure you didn’t end up in the same high school as the two, a task that you’re proud to act on as making friends and getting through the final four years of your primary education became easier to accomplish. 

However, this fulfillment was thrown out the window when you walked on campus grounds and discovered that after two years, your bullies had transferred to the same college as you! Not only in the same place but in the same dorm section and sharing the same class—had the world gone mad?! Just when you have accepted this new chapter in your life to start anew and fresh, these two spin back and the pool of anxiety swallows you back up and pulverizes your heart. There was no way for this situation to be envisaged.

“Ohaaa!! Shtooop, t’ooo fasst!!”  

And now, they have new methods to diminish your dignity.

Against your comfort, you and the two were assigned a spreadsheet to work on and have it done by Thursday, so you three were supposed to be working in the living room of their dorm apartment. Nevertheless, you don’t think lying on the couch with your back to Gojo and Geto between your legs has anything to do with the assignment…

You were squirming, Gojo’s slender hands cupping and fondling your chest, tips of his fingers tweaking your nipples roughly so that you whine helplessly. Legs spread open for your panties and bare cunt to be exposed when you were stripped from your leggings, and Geto toys your private part with his fingers. The sensation of his middle digit inside you was hard to believe, like the howl from curling onto the upper wall of your vagina.

“Uuuwww, ohmyGoooood…!” You throw your head back to the shoulder of the white-haired one whose forefingers circle the buds of your mounds. “W-We can’t be—hic—doing this…”

“Ehhh, c’mon, baby,” hearing Gojo talk to your ear so close has to be something out of a dream or nightmare. “Who says we can’t play with our favorite person, huh?”

You gulp at the lick of your earlobe. “Because…we have work to d—Aaahh!”

“Don’t think about that assignment when I’m busy shoving my fingers in you,” Geto reminds you, the pace of his digit increasing and the scrape of his fingertip having your toes curl. “Doesn’t the pretty girl wanna play us like old times?”

A hand grabs his wrist, yet that does little to hinder the raven-haired one’s diligence within your leaking chasm. “B-But…We can’t!” Jesus, it’s tough to think adequately the more Geto pushes and pulls his finger, brushing it up against your texture. Tears welled up in your eyes, your body sore from their constant touches.

“God, still cryin’ from being teased, huh, crybaby?” Gojo chuckles while cupping your cheeks. “Still a cutie, though…”

No way, there’s absolutely no way! You had to be dreaming because there is no way you’re awake to see the day Gojo is kissing you! Biting your bottom lip and shoving his tongue inside, your brain practically explodes as you moan in his mouth, and your slit contracts the rub of Geto’s finger. Did you just cum from a kiss?!

“Oh wow, they’re spasming like crazy,” Geto chortles at the sight of your legs trembling and your genitalia fluttering around the digit. “Cumming from a kiss, huh? Heh, so easy to mess with.”

Your response was deterred to that of imperceptible wails, crying into Gojo’s pillowy lips as he sucked on your tongues to hear you sob more. This was so unfair; this situation was not in your favor once you were dragged into their apartment.

Not even in the next phase of this meet-up.

Your clothes are discarded from your body to the living room floor, mounting on the couch on all fours, Geto to your front and Gojo to your back. The three of you are too far gone to think about the damn assignment—your frame too occupied by their cocks to evade them so.

Soapy lips suck on the dick of the dark-haired other, puffy cheeks making room for the limb burrowing inside your mouth. He fucks you orally with vigor, snapping his hips to your lips as your head pounds with every jab to the back of your throat. You’re not left with a second to breathe calmly, his girth overwhelming.

“Fuuuhhck, Jesus Christ,” he curses, grinding his pelvis and moaning at the feel of your tight throat. “Such a good girl, sucking me so well; got the mouth of a great cumslut.”

“Has the pussy of one, too!”

The words burn your ears, coming from behind as the guy with snowy hair plunges his length into your vagina. His hands are situated on your waist to keep you on him, the curve of his cock scratching your sweet spots too accurately that you’re forced to scream on the other’s shaft.

Gojo throws his head back with a sigh, “Fuckin’ shiiiit, this pussy…clamping on me so hard, you wanna milk me dry?” He bends down to your ear, “Want my load so bad like a little whore?” Squeezing on him was inevitable, making him hiss. “Fuck! Don’t do that…”

“Damn this throat, man,” you peer up to Geto. Your eyes have already released the tears stricken down your face, the lower part of your face all hot from the frequent hits. He chortles, “You look so good all messy like that, sweetheart…Holy shit, you looked so fucked out.” 

Of course you were; they’ve been toying with your body for ten minutes with no rest! Your frame was aching so bad, sobbing because of the cock busying your throat and the dick grazing your G-spot. It was too much to catch up with, especially when Gojo sneaks a hand to your clit to rub and swipe. Your eyes roll to the ceiling, and a scream is muffled, your figure submitting to the pinches on your sensitive pearl.

“Wanna cum?” Silver brows trench together at the clamp of your walls. “Do it, cum on my dick, you nasty crybaby.” 

More tweaks to your clitoris coincide with the erratic pistons of Gojo’s thighs, and you have no choice but to climax once more. Your cunt tightens around his cock with every hit of your orgasm, and he makes sure to get his raw cock out of you to ejaculate his milky fluid onto your back, painting your skin with his load.

The same goes for Geto as well, who grabs your head and roughly pulls himself off to paint your face with his essence. You whimper with every quiver and addition of his sperm, spurting to your forehead and decorating your cheeks to slide down your chin. You never felt so dirty in your life, your tongue accidentally tasting it from licking your lips. “Good girl,” he compliments with a teasing pinch to your cheek.

Gojo rubs his length on the cusp of your butt. “Man, cutie, you keep driving me crazy.” His fingers aimlessly play with your clit. “Now I really can’t leave you alone…”

Dread weighs your bones at his words, and you can only question how you can survive these upcoming semesters with these harassers. And now that they’re hooked on you, this fresh new start has become much more suffocating…

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 – reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ header edit done by me + dividers by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[caramelkoo]

before we shatter — jjk [one]

genre : established relationship, idol!jungkook

word count : 6k

summary : dating an idol is fun, they said. having a family with one is fun, they said. Until you're falling face forward because of your reality. A reality where Jungkook dreams of a future and a reality where your own future is collapsed.

chapter warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature content, fluff, so much angst, smut, talks of infertility, clit sucking, fingering, Jungkook worships her, dirty talk, doggy style, reader is in so much pain i love her sm, fall vibes <33, gift giving as a love language, pussy slapping with his d, big dick energy, jungkook is desperate. that's about it please mention if i missed anything.

read part two here

a/n : based on this ask so thank you anon for coming forward and giving me a chance to write this. i also wanna mention that im no doctor so please forgive me if i didn't do the topic of infertility justice. the second part gives more clarity in their case so please be kind to wait. enjoy and im v v grateful for you. you're so loved.

When you were a child, barely five, an orange butterfly came flying outside your front door. Your mom told you about it since she saw it first causing your entire face to instantly light up like the fourth of july.

An inexplicable joy filled your whole body making your day ten times better, not that you were having a bad one. A five year old can’t have a bad day whatsoever.

After you were done chasing it around, secretly hoping that it would land on your nose just the way they show on television, you had to let it go and head back inside. 

Oddly enough the next morning you saw it again, this time it was not flapping its wings like it had last night, instead it was sitting on the window beside the door. Quiet and still. 

You, ever so curious, had to ask your mom about it. “It might find comfort there,” she said. 

Up until you met your boyfriend you had spent the majority of your time wondering where your comfort place is, what is that one place where you can just be yourself and not pretend to be some stoic woman. A place which lets you cry whenever you want but also replaces those tears with wide smiles and loud giggles. 

Turns out, it’s your boyfriend’s arms. 

It’s true. Jungkook with his kind, sparkly bambi eyes and bunny smile stole your damn heart a few years ago and is not willing to give it back. Although you can’t complain, in a world where people can’t seem to find the one for themselves, the angels up there granted you a guy every inch a gentleman. Safe to say it’s not one like one of those titular relationships you've come across. 

He’s your solace, a roof where you can safely just about exist. 

He heals you.

Dating an Idol comes with several perks, the biggest one of those being dealing with the huge amount of selective criticism. You feel hurt, of course, but when you’re with Jungkook, they are nothing but words behind a pixel. A pain that only lasts momentarily. 

This pain though, is not as mundane. This one is making your stomach twist in apprehension. You’ve lost the count of how many deep breaths you’ve taken.

“I’m afraid this is a case of infertility miss _____” the doctor says, earning your attention.

You’re not able to form a word, however that does nothing to stop your subconscious mind from screaming, I knew it.

Being stupid enough to think you were well prepared to hear her say this, you mustered up the courage to enter the four walled white space which, at that time, didn’t feel as narrow as it does now. It’s almost as if it’s closing up on you.

Only after you sat before the woman in white coat and bad news, did you realize how gut wrenching this actually feels.

You face her with a weak smile, one that doesn’t actually reach your eyes, “Are- are you sure you’re not mistaken?” 

Dr. Ana leans forward, resting her forearms on the table. The move itself tells you more than you need to. “Miss _____, I know it’ll be hard for you to come to terms with this but I suggest you try. I would also like to tell you, and I hope I’m not overstepping, but you can always go with adoption. The options are endless.” 

Your throat feels awfully dry and you gulp. “Thank you uh, can I ask you for a favor?” 

��Anything”

“If you happen to cross paths with Jungkook, please don’t mention anything about this to him.” 

Dr. Ana flashes you a kind smile, “Of course not ____. It’s your personal matter. I wouldn’t dare.” 

“Thanks a lot.” 

With one last nod you excuse yourself from her office. Your phone buzzes inside your pocket and you take it out, seeing Jungkook’s number stare up at you. 

“Hey” 

“Hey, my love. Are you busy?” His voice nearly brings tears to your eyes. It also brings up a question. Will he act the same towards you after you tell him where you are and what you just heard? Will his voice be filled with the same amount of excitement and affection for you? 

“No, honey. I’m actually at my sister’s place. She was craving some alone time with her husband and asked me to babysit Coco”

You can visualise him awing already. Jungkook has grown attached to your sister’s daughter a little too much. His bond with Coco is just so bright it makes you wonder if they happened to be an actual father and daughter duo in the past life. They’re both full of beans and it’s a delight to see them both together. 

He chimes, “Ah my little Coco bean. Is she near? Let me hear my angel.” 

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try to come up with any transitory excuse that doesn’t make you run for the hills. “She’s sleeping right now. Made me work for it but I managed to settle her down” 

Jungkook moans from the other side of the line and you mentally curse yourself. Not only are you lying through your teeth but also using your innocent niece as a pawn. From the day you began dating Jungkook, you’ve not looked at any other man. For the first time now, you have this nagging feeling as though you’re cheating on him. 

“Well, alright next time then. When are you coming back home?” 

“As soon as they do. Do you miss me already?” I tease.

“Pfft me and miss you? Impossible” 

You gasp, the audacity of this boy. “How rude!!”

Your goofy boyfriend dares to chuckle, “I carry you with me everywhere I go, love. It’s hard to miss someone who’s this close to you every time of the day.” 

It doesn’t take you long to grasp what he is referring to. The heart shaped bracelet rests proudly on his wrists and the man had refused to take it off ever since you gifted it to him. A sense of longing already creeps up in your heart, twisting it until you run out of breath. 

Your chest expands as you fill it with much needed air, “Listen, honey I’ll give you a call soon yeah? I think Coco has woken up and I must go check if she needs something,” you fake a chuckle, “You know how she gets when she’s irritated” 

“Oh yes of course. Promise to give me a call soon?” 

This time the smile on your face is genuine, “I promise” 

“Give Coco a kiss for me. I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

There’s a heavy weight on your chest as soon as you hang up the call. Maybe it has always been there. So, for a couple of minutes you just stand there in the hallway of the hospital taking in the sterile smell and worrisome patients, praying that the highest power up there gives you one last chance so you could try and fix what’s been ruined.

The commotion around you does nothing to overtake the voices in your head and sadness fires through you as you feel like you’re burning your boats. Despite all of that, you pray for one last time, this time for again being strong enough to let go. 

Let go of your happiness.

Let go of your salvation.

Let go of your comfort.

Let go of Jungkook.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

You click the door shut behind you, hanging the coat on the rack. You’re not even done turning around when a muscular arm wraps around your abdomen and you’re pulled back against a taut chest. 

“I missed you” his voice is muffled against your jumper.

You run your palms over Jungkook’s forearm, stopping to interlace your fingers with his.The way his hands fit with yours is adorable to you as if they were made to do so. The bracelet on his wrist is cool against your skin and you smile. “You know what’s funny? This guy I talked to earlier said it’s impossible for him to miss me” 

He rests his chin on top of your shoulders, cheeks warm against yours. He has grown out a stubble which makes him look manlier for some reason and you can’t stop caressing it with your fingers whenever you cup his face.

“You’re talking to other guys?” If you hadn’t known Jungkook better than himself, you would have missed the pout of his lips when he said that. 

You turn your face and place a sloppy kiss on his cheekbones, “Only my favourite guy in the whole world.” 

He breaks out in a toothy grin and holds your gaze. “You’re my favourite girl too but I think you already know that.” 

You nod but the pang of guilt is still lingering in your heart. “Still love hearing it.” 

Jungkook releases you from his embrace and walks back, rounding the kitchen counter until he’s holding up a large bowl. “Ready for our fall ritual?” 

Jungkook and you have been using your mum’s recipe to bake chocolate chip cookies every fall and while you enjoy baking with him, the thing that you take the most pleasure from is his face when he munches on the first cookie.

It’s one of your favorite sights ever. It takes quite a bit of effort to bake them but hell if you wouldn’t do it all over again just to see him close his eyes and moan like it is the best thing since sliced bread. 

You join him behind the counter and look around. From the way the batter has already been prepared you suppose he’s been at it for a while. There are some chocochips in a small bowl across from you with some cranberries next to them because he knows you like them in your cookies. 

“You don’t ever forget about the cranberries, do you?” 

“Nope. They’re your favourite plus if you eat well, I can eat you well– ouch,” he jumps, “What was that for?” 

You offer him a glare which does nothing to stop the smile threatening to break out of your lips, “Behave” 

His face inches closer to yours, “Now honey don’t be acting like I didn’t give you the best orgasm this morning” 

Oh well, how can you forget about that? Ninety nine percent of the time you love waking up in his arms while he’s the big spoon but there’s that one percent where he wakes you up with his head between your legs, sometimes with his face under your shirt sucking on your nipples. Indissoluble passion within him. His ability to satisfy you with his mouth alone needs to be studied because god if you don’t crave more and more. 

You blink, once twice thrice, “You’re incorrigible” 

He lets out a cackle at your flustered face as you wonder when you will stop blushing like a fool around him. It’s been years and he still makes you feel like you’re wrapped up in a ball of jitters. Jungkook leans back and straightens up. He plucks the apron from the counter before coming up behind you. “Hold your hair up for me” He demands. 

You grab a fistful of your hair and lift them up as he settles it on your neck before tying the knot at your back. With one last kiss on the back of your neck he joins you. 

“How long has it been since you began making this?” 

“Not long ago. Thought I’d wait for you to come back home and then continue”

You watch him add the chocochips into the dough. His tattoos are barely visible behind the cozy sweater he’s wearing. At the risk of sounding like a hypocrite, Jungkook with his perfect physique and gorgeous face looks good in everything, more so naked, but nothing triggers your cuteness aggression more than him wearing a fluffy knitted sweater, believe it or not. One which you knitted at that.

He pulls your attention away pausing your little drooling session, “How’s Coco bean doing?” 

A sudden urge of getting close to him creeps up and you sneak between the counter and him, hugging him as you nuzzle your face in his chest. He smells like cinnamon. He places a gentle kiss on the crown of your head before resting his chin there. 

“You smell so good” 

“Thanks and she’s as chaotic as ever. Nailea bought the cutest pair of pyjamas for her,” you look up at him,  “She looked like a loaf of bread when they made her wear it.” 

“No way. Should we buy her another one of those?” he pulls back, barely able to hide the excitement on his face.

“You’re gonna spoil her” 

“Damn right I will and if you call this spoiling, wait till I get one of those made by me.” 

There it is. 

If Jungkook wasn’t so fond of children, would it have been easier for you to cope? You do realize that you’re a stone’s throw away from losing him for once and for all. In the old days you heard somewhere that it takes a strong man to save to save himself and a great man to save another.

You want to be that brave person who saves him from lifelong loathing and regret towards you.

This turning point in your life gives you two options, one where you can hang by a thread and bite your tongue while you continue your life with him, another where you set him free. The latter one wins and you, however, lose. 

“Hey you went silent there. You okay?” He cups your cheek with one hand, his thumb grazing your cheekbones so gently you try not to cry. 

You nod and flash him a smile. Or at least you try to smile and detach yourself from him. “Perfect. Let’s get those cookies baking shall we?” 

Jungkook keeps looking at you with an expression which tells you he’s trying to search for something, but you try not to give anything away. Yet.

He gives you a look, his eyes sparkling under the low light in the room,

“Wait here for a second i’ll be right back” 

“Where are you goi-”

“Just a second. Don’t move” His voice trails off as he goes further into the bedroom. A minute later when he comes back, there’s nothing different about him except the sneaky smile on his face. He walks towards you and grabs you by the waist as he sits you on the counter. Your hands instantly clutch his shoulders for support. 

“What is happening, baby?” You mumble, clearly in a fog. 

He says nothing as he gets down on his knees. Taking a hold of your right leg, he places it on his thigh. You swallow.

He looks up, clashing his eyes with yours, “You ask too many questions, do you know that?” 

Seconds later he’s taking something out of his jogger pocket and a cool sensation brushes your skin. You peek down, curiosity finally killing the cat as you see a silver anklet adorned by a pink stone in the middle of it embraced around your ankles. 

His name is a whisper on your lips, “Jungkook”  

He gets up, facing you as he stands. But not before pecking the anklet as well as your skin. His face which earlier was eerie, now entirely soft. 

“Mom sent this for you.” 

You don’t hold back tears this time, letting them run free. You glance at the jewellery again as it shines under the light of the kitchen lamp. The pink stone glares at you as if it knows you’re not worthy of such a valuable item. 

“It’s beautiful”

He gently wipes the tears away,

“It’s just the beginning, love. I’m not gonna stop until I see a band wrapped around your finger. I feel too lonely being the only one there.” 

You playfully smack him on the chest, a giggle slipping free. With a tired shake of your head you admit, “This is overwhelming” 

“What is?” he asks,

“All of this,” you keep your gaze on him, sniffing as you continue,“Your little acts of service, your love, your presence and now this gift. I feel like I’m taking too much not giving enough” 

Your throat feels too tight, as if someone is just cutting off your air supply when you should be feeling free in his arms. 

Jungkook’s eyebrows tense as he reaches for you. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear he tries to reassure you, “Don’t say that. I hate when you question your worth,” he pecks the back of your hands, “These hands feed me, hold me when I need them to, give me warmth, gentle touches”,

His lips find both of your eyes next as you close them, feeling his soft lips on them,

“These eyes tear up with happiness every time you listen to me in the studio”,

Your ears follow next, “These ears tolerate my snoring”,

Then your lips, “And this mouth, my favourite, whispers ‘i love you’ to me every morning, leaves kisses on my skin, screams my name and most importantly, forms the loveliest smile when I make you happy.” His eyes are oh so gentle as he says this. 

You’re about to respond when his phone buzzes on the counter next to you. Your heart stops. Fuck is it Dr. Ana?

To your surprise, it’s Jimin’s number on the screen.

“Pick it up, honey. It might be important.” 

His thumb presses on the red button as he declines the call, “I’ll talk to him later. My girlfriend comes first.” 

Neither of you say a word as the room gets filled with a comfortable silence. The cookies are long forgotten, your eyes doing all the talking. Even if you try your hardest you’re not sure you can say anything which is remotely justifiable of what he just said to you.

Jungkook is so much more than meets the eye, he’s vulnerable, he’s empathetic, he’s loving. His eyes shine the brightest when he’s happy about something and you’re so full of contempt about the fact that eventually you will be the one to snatch away that shine. This hornet’s nest is going to ruin me, ruin him. 

“I wanna kiss you so bad” He whispers, leaning closer but you stop him with your palms on his chest.

“Wait, I-I want to talk about something” 

His voice is downright pleading when he says, “Later baby. I’m fucking gonna die if I don’t take that mouth right now. Please?” his breath touches your bare lips. 

Feeling a flutter in your chest you nod and he leans towards you, hand cupping your lower jaw as he touches his lips to yours. Softly at first, then his pace quickens. Your hands grab his sweater as you pull him even closer, deepening the kiss. His moan echoes followed by your own as you both lose yourselves in each other. You let go of every menacing thought and just focus on the taste of his lips. 

He pulls back slightly, taking a deep breath as he fills his chest with air. Those beautiful lips are pink and swollen from the heated kiss you just shared with him. Getting rid of the sweater, he tosses it aside as his eyes sparkle with amusement.

Without wasting any time he begins nibbling at your neck, slightly biting onto it as your hands run over his back. He’s so beautiful it takes your breath away. Not to toot your own horn but you have the most gorgeous boyfriend and you’re not ashamed to show him off. 

His lips ghost over your nipples from over your high neck top and you groan.

“Jungkook, please” 

He pulls back with a smug look on his face, “Please what ____?” 

“Please fuck me. I need your cock so bad.” 

“Yeah? Is that what my girl wants?” 

At this point your body is thrumming with anticipation and desire as you watch him move his hands closer to the waistband of your pants. His hands pause when they meet the lace material, his pupils dilate. 

He smiles, “It’s the one I gifted you. Were you hoping for this huh?” 

Your lips stretch into a smile. You hadn’t particularly hoped for this, no, because your relationship with him is not just based on physical pleasures. You guys have sex of course, but it’s not the prominent part of the bond you share. It’s more than that. The lace lingerie set was gifted to you by Jungkook on a random day. It was one of those quote unquote just because gifts. 

“What do you think?” you ask, giving him a quick kiss. 

He grabs you by the back of your neck and holds you there for a moment before leaning back and looking straight into your eyes. “I think you should lose it or else I’ll ruin it” 

You gasp, swatting him on the bicep. “Don’t you dare. It’s my favourite pair”  

Without preamble he picks you off the counter making you wrap your legs around his waist. You both are so close it takes your breath away. Chest to chest, groin to groin, face to face with lips inches away from each other’s as you share a breath. 

He walks into your shared bedroom as you clash your lips against his, pulling his lower one between yours, earning a groan out of him. You both are downright feral, letting your hands run over every area of each other’s body. Jungkook’s hands grabbing your ass, yours pulling on his hair lightly before trailing down his chest, pausing on his pecs. 

When you reach your bedroom, he sits himself down with you on top of his lap. Your hips move forward and you hiss as your still jean clad pussy brushes his cock. He’s so hard you wonder if he’s close to coming already. 

Rough hands scrape over your back, hips, down your thigh before they finally settle on either side of your waist, gipping them tightly but also with a hint of gentleness. One thing you admire about your man is that he doesn’t treat you like a fragile woman, he knows you’re strong and you’ll not break if he’s rough with you. 

Jungkook pulls back from your lips.“Fuck honey, you’re such a goddess. Look at this body. I still can’t believe I get to call you mine” 

You shake your head, totally under his spell. “I’m the lucky one here, baby. You have no idea how lucky I am.” 

His hand brushes over your ass before he dips it inside your pants, reaching your already soaked pussy as he pushes a finger inside you. This earns a whimper from you as you tip your head back. 

“That’s where you’re wrong, ____. Want me to show you how lucky I am?” He takes the finger out before pumping it back again. You moan as his other hand gips the nape of your neck and he brings his mouth to your neck, biting on it. 

“Oh my god” you cry, seeing him suck the finger clean and face forming an expression filled with the deepest level of satisfaction as he closes his eyes. 

Setting his eyes back on you, he sighs, “This isn’t my first time tasting you, honey. But it gets better every fucking time and I find myself craving you an unhealthy amount, you know that? Do you know how crazy I am for you? Could eat you out everyday and wouldn’t need anything else to feel full.” His words send a shiver down your spine. “You’re my favorite meal.” 

He pushes three fingers back inside with a slight force and you let out a scream, arching your back. He takes one nipple into his mouth and gives it a long suck, letting it go with a loud pop. 

“Oh yes, just like that. Suck it again, baby” You beg and he does exactly that as he takes the other sensitive bud into his mouth. 

You’re not sure if you have been this vocal about your needs with anyone before him. Not that you dated a lot, for a person who’s a hopeless romantic to the core you’ve always found yourself waiting for the right one. Additionally, you believed your body to be as sacred as a temple. Surely there had to be a guy somewhere who would treat it as such.

Then, enters Jungkook who not only was out of your league metaphorically but literally. He lived miles away from your place so there was not a chance you could have let anything take place between the both of you. But as they always say, the heart wants what it wants. To put it briefly, there was chemistry, a connection you didn’t want to lose.

Strong fingers pump into you. In and out, in and out. “You’re so wet. What do you say? Should I lick you clean?” 

“Yes, ah oh my goodness that’s sooo good” you toss your head back, slowly grinding against his hands. 

He wraps an arm around your waist, lifts you off his lap and tosses you back on the bed. Keeping his eyes still locked with yours he gets rid of his jogger, letting his cock spring free.

It bobs and you lick your lips, already wanting to take it into your mouth but you know for a fact that he wouldn’t let you do that, not because he doesn’t want you to but because he wants to give you the highest amount of pleasure first. As he always does. 

Jungkook lets out a shaky sigh as gives his cock a pull, his eyes running over your whole body. Up and down then back at your face again. You’re still not fully bare in front of him while he’s standing there, all in his glory. 

“Lose the pants” he commands. 

You immediately slide out of them and toss them on the floor somewhere. He grabs you by the hips, jerking you to the edge of the bed as he sinks down on his knees. Spreading your legs wider he releases a breath. Warmth touches your wet pussy and you prop yourself up by the elbows to look at him. 

You need to look at him if you want to stay sane, have to feel him with you here. Shivers run through you even by the thought of not being able to feel him and this ever again. This might as well be your last day on this god awful planet from the way the ache in your chest keeps on increasing. It makes a home there, not letting you entirely forget about the eventualities. 

“God you’re dripping, honey” 

“For you” you admit.

Hot and wet kisses are left to the inside of your thigh and your hands find the back of his head as you grip it lightly. 

His head lifts up, his eyes finding yours, “Don’t hold back,____. Grip it as tightly as you want to. I don’t want any hesitations because when I fuck you, I’m not going to be holding back. You hear me?” 

A desperate moan leaves you, and he rewards you by kissing your pussy. Keeping his eyes on you, he doesn’t give you a chance to whine out your needs before his tongue is licking a single line up your clit.

He moans and gently tugs on your clit. “Such a perfect cunt” 

You push his head against your pussy and rock forward, chasing your orgasm. 

“Feels so good, feels so perfect, baby” you murmur.

Just when you’re starting to feel the climax incoming, when Jungkook suddenly grabs you by the waist and flips you, so he’s lying down and you’re on top. Then, he grabs you by the back of your neck, pulling you for a heated kiss. 

He pulls back, “Sit on my face, my queen” 

Your eyes widen and you hesitate, but you don’t want to. You wanna let go, knowing you’re lucky enough to get something like this in this lifetime, so you give in. He hoists you up by the hips, positions you over his face and pulls you down. His warm breath feels like a soft whisper against your pussy. 

You cry out in pleasure as soon as his tongue dives deep inside you, squeezing your tits in your hands. Grinding against his face, you close your eyes and just… feel. Feel the heat, feel the emotions, feel the intimacy, feel the ache in your chest.

A thought crosses your head and you wonder if you’re doing something wrong, something selfish. Touching him like this and getting consumed by him feels like you’re doing nothing but ruining him. 

He sucks on your clit with sheer eagerness and desire, pulling you further down so you’re putting your weight on his face. Concern perks up and you look down, trying not to crush him but it seems like he couldn’t care less. 

“Let go, honey. Just focus on my mouth.” 

Let go. God, how bad you hate those words. They feel like acid in your ears. 

“Keep going, Jungkook. Don’t you dare stop” you cry out. 

Soon enough you’re aching your back, cunt pulsing against his lips as you come. He swallows every single drop as if he’d die if he doesn’t and leaves you in awe. You slump, letting your body relax.

Much to your amusement, he doesn’t give you enough time to relax before he’s turning you over until you’re on your knees. Hot passionate kisses are placed on your sweaty back, pulling a gasp from you. 

“What a fucking sight. I wish you could see how stunning you look right now and it’s all because of me, isn’t it? This glistening back, this wet cunt,” he strokes a finger down your pussy, “It’s all because of me and you dare to call yourself lucky?” 

You catch a sight of him stroking himself over your shoulders and your breath quickens. 

His abs are glistening with sweat and his chin still has your cum on it. 

He smirks, “Like what you see, honey” 

“You’re beautiful” 

His eyes soften, letting his hands drop from his angry and already leaking with precum cock, he grabs either side of your hips and lines himself against your needy pussy. You let your head drop on the mattress and clench your fist, preparing yourself for him. He gives your cunt a slight slap with his cock before filling you in, groaning as he goes deeper.

You moan, “Fuck baby. That’s so deep.” 

“You’re so warm, honey. You feel like home” he thrusts again. 

His hands grip yours, and he covers your body with his own, still thrusting inside with rough movements. His chest feels warm and safe against your back as it fills you with a deep sense of safety, protection and love.

You match every thrust of his with your own, moving your hips backwards. Your tits are getting equal attention from him as he pinches the two sensitive buds between his fingers. 

You both chase your high with you screaming out his name and him whispering yours like a prayer. He gives in one last thrust before he’s coming inside you, his teeth biting on your shoulder. You’re following him soon as you grip the bed sheet tighter in your fist, moaning as you come. 

Before you collapse, he pulls you upright and lets his cock slide out of you. His fingers push his cum inside your throbbing cunt, making your stomach twist in pain.

You murmur. “I love you” 

His lips stretch into one of those lazy smiles you love so much. “I love you too, my precious girl. Now, do you wanna sleep or go make those cookies?” a sloppy kiss is pressed on your forehead. 

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you pull him on top of you, “Should we save those for later? I really wanna cuddle” 

He presses a soft kiss on the tip of your button nose, “Sure. Let me clean you up first. You don’t have to move an inch, just relax.” 

Minutes later he’s coming back with a bottle of water and a bowl of marshmallows. You bite back a chuckle when you look at his face. There’s such a deep crease between his eyebrows you’d think he’s trying to win a game of uno or something. 

But it’s short lived when he places the items on the nightstand and gazes at you, his eyes having the same funny look they had earlier in the kitchen.You try to summon your most unbothered and good natured grin but it doesn’t do shit to stop the electricity from running through your blood. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, biting your lip.

An uncertain laugh slips out of him, “I don’t know. I’m- God, I really don’t know but I have this weird feeling that something is not right.” He begins cleaning you up but you can’t shake the feeling of nervousness and anxiety away. 

You know for a fact that he’s right. Something is not right, in fact nothing is right. 

He peeks at you from between your legs, “Hey, what is it that you wanted to talk about?” 

The air whooshes out of your lungs. Should you come clean? Is it the right time? 

You huff a tight laugh. “It’s nothing actually. Can we talk about it later?” 

When he’s done cleaning you up he places a small kiss on both your knees and stands up. Offering you a nod, he says, “Whenever you feel like it. I’m not going anywhere” 

Yet. He’s not going anywhere yet. 

You grin, “I wouldn’t let you” 

He lets a laugh slip out as he walks inside the bathroom. Then, he comes back, settles himself beside you and brings you closer by wrapping his arm around your waist. His feet find yours as he touches the anklet with them. 

“Let’s sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up” he promises. 

Morning comes quickly as the sun casts its glow on your sleepy yet excited eyes. Holding out a hand, you try searching for your boyfriend next to you, but a slight sting arises in your heart when he’s not there. You open your eyes, adjusting to the sunlight. 

Although, you hoped you did not wake up, you hoped death consumed you in your sleep because the person across from you is a total stranger. A stranger whose eyes are misty and mouth is pulled down in deep frown, a sunflower bouquet in one hand and the other one holding a blue file so tightly you can see his knuckles turning white.

Jungkook holds out the file to you, “How long were you planning to hide this from me,____?” 

For the first time in your life, you hate your name. You hate how bitter it sounds coming from his mouth like this.It has always been “____, you’re my everything,” “I love you,____”, “_____, you mean the world to me”.

Acid bubbles in your stomach at his words, and you can’t help but sob. You wonder if the butterfly was preparing you for this day. If she could talk, what would she have said to you? 

The words that leave him next might as well be daggers in your chest, "Tell me, honey. Is it the important thing you wanted to talk about but held back just to get a good fuck out of me?"

@fluttershy-vanilla @theyysam37 love you pookies. enjoy <3

[childrenofcain-if]

THE UPDATE FOR THE DEMO IS NOW LIVE!

what you can expect in this update comprising both chapter two and three:

get an exclusive invite to the illustrious house of styx.

meet the ROs.

try not to burn down the kitchenette with V.

share a tension-filled dance with C.

go on a swim with D.

do some outfit picking with your chosen RO.

who is that blond(e) stranger in the RE4 costume, and why do they look so familiar?

get choked by an RO for all the wrong reasons (and no, it won’t be kinky. repent for your sins!).

get a glimpse into what exactly is... w̵̢͈̱̻͋̔̾̎͌̋̓̏̚͝r̶̭͈̯͊͛̂̕o̷̧̝̤͇͚͚̓͌̒̈́̏̕̕ņ̴̨̬͚͓̫̱̞̘̰͊́̓̅̈̋͠͝ġ̵̨̺̪̳̘̠ up with you.

there may be some errors with pronouns and other stuff popping up, but you can send them to me on discord so we can promptly correct them. beta testers will be desperately needed for the next update so i’ll open the volunteering forms once chapter four is complete! also, it’s important that you start a new game because new variables has been added which might cause you to get stuck in certain areas!

huge shout-out to my talented big sib, @albywritesfiction, for the massive help in coding everything!

PLAY IT HERE!

[textmel8r]

[ DRABBLE + SMAU ] 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘 ! ( seventh installment ) in which you find toji fushiguro’s number off a sugar baby site .

୨୧˚ part; one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven.

୨୧˚ incl; toji fushiguro

୨୧˚ cw; sugar mommy! reader , sugar baby! toji , masturbation , angst , profanity , descriptions of violence , toji being a pathetic little sicko :D

୨୧˚ an; sorry this part is on the shorter side😅😅 it’s more of a filler chapter but i still like it!

It’s well past midnight when Toji slips his way back into his motel room. It’s dingy and drab, the once-white walls twinged a sickly yellowish tint from chain smoking guests. Ugly bedspread details different flowers that Toji couldn’t name, the same aged pattern clinging to the drapes that were pulled shut over the front window, never to be opened. It smells of heady sweat and open wounds, though maybe that’s just him. No, it definitely is him. He’s hyper aware of the grimy layer of filth that acts as a second layer of skin. It’s gritty and uncomfortable.

The bathroom cubicle is claustrophobic; if Toji were to stand in the center of the room, he could easily touch all four walls that boxed him in. He sits on the closed toilet seat lid, staring at his hands. They’re huge, intimidating. Trembling, spattered in blood that’s long since crusted into a dark concretion, cracking at the hinges of his fingers. His hands that took the lives of two innocent men just hours prior. Toji didn’t want to kill them, but they wouldn’t cooperate. Oh, how they shrieked and hollered for their lives as he dragged them into that alley. They just kept fucking screaming. 

“Fuck…” The man sighs grimly, letting his head dip forward to rest in the cups of his filthy palms. His bangs feel matted and crunchy with remnants of sweat. Disgusting self-pity blooms at the base of his hollow chest, and suddenly Toji has the urge to ram his skull into the drywall. Or dislocate his finger. Or do anything to punish himself for that feeling of defeatism. The nerve to possess such a shameful victim mentality, as if he deserved sympathy. He’s a killer; the best he deserves is a fucking electric chair.

Toji showers. A long, scalding shower that singes him to the bone. Water stained red cascades down the rippling wall of muscles that was his body and swirls down the rusty drain. These post-slaughter showers used to be blank canvases of his life. Ones where Toji’s brain would shut off and try to forget the atrocities committed by his hand. He would scrub his flesh raw, scrub scrub scrub mindlessly until he ached all over. But now, he only thinks of one thing.

You.

Maybe it’s some sick coping mechanism, turning to thoughts of you in times like these. In a pathetic form of self comfort, he reminisces. Your hands holding his face, your know-it-all smile, your way with words. God, your fucking way with words. 

“My sweet boy,” Toji whispers under his breath, touching himself. As if he could replicate the delicate way in which you spoke to him. His eyes shut, desperately clinging onto the mental image of you beneath him in his bed. Your arms outstretched, reaching for him like you want him. Like you love him. “My sweet…” Toji tries to fade into the warmth of the spray, imagining it to be your body heat encapsulating him instead. But the water is far too hot, it hurts; you wouldn’t hurt him like this. He tries so damn hard to disassociate into the pleasure, as if his hand would magically dissolve into yours. Yeah, right. His hand is too big to ever compete with yours. Too fucking rough and gritty and mean.

The flat of his palm finds the greasy tiles of the shower wall. Toji fucks himself with all the roughness he deserves, lower lip staked between two rows of teeth to cease its quivering. He’s going to cum. Your face appears in his psyche once more, but this time, it’s from the first time you visited him in the hospital all those months ago. He can see the picture so vividly, it scares him: you seated at his bedside, poking and prodding over his obliques, muttering a stream of concerned questions. But you were never upset or angry. No, despite the worries, you were still smiling. At him. 

Fuck, he’s really going to cum.

Toji grits his teeth, climaxing with a harsh shudder and a broken gasp of your name on his lips. Small jolts force him into a twitchy state, and he leans forward to rest his forehead against the tiles beside his hand. Semen paints the wall below, too far to the left for the shower spray to rinse it off. He doesn’t bother to clean it off. He’s too repulsed by himself to do much of anything. 

The plasticky sheets stick to his skin. Sleeping in just a pair of boxers was probably a stupid idea, bed mites were a real cause for concern, or so Shiu had told him. But it’s hot. He’s hot. And restless. And uncomfortable. He always had trouble falling asleep in foreign beds. Lidded eyes peek over to the alarm clock perched on the side table, its cherry digits splaying 2:47am. You were asleep. 

He reaches for his phone anyway, wracked with guilt all the while. The tension in his thighs still persisted, still succumbed to the aftershocks of his orgasm he fucked himself to with your face in his mind. He’s fucking gross. This is gross.

She’s sleeping, jackass. Don’t wake her up because you’re lonely.

Be a fucking man and lick your own wounds. That’s what his father would say.

He texts you anyway.

He presses the call button. It only gets through half a ring before the line cuts on and he hears a groggy “hey” filter through the receiver. How long has it been since he’s heard your voice? Not that long, only three days and yet it feels like it's been three lifetimes. And that’s truly the moment when Toji knows you’ve fucked him for life, because when did he start thinking such sappy shit like that?

“Hi,” he answers, melting back into the stiff mattress. His gaze wanders along the waterlogged ceiling, tracing the abstract damp stains that have settled in its popcorn surface. He thinks offhandedly that one of them vaguely resembles a rabbit. “Sorry for waking you.”

“You already apologized, silly. I told you it’s okay.” There’s a pause. “It’s nice to hear your voice.”

It’s nice to hear yours, too. “Go to sleep.” 

“Yeah, okay.” The sound of sheets stirring crackles, Toji assumes you’re tossing in bed. “You’re sleeping now, too, right?”

He paws at his stomach, the pads of his rough fingertips tracing the gutters of his abdominal plates before he sinks his blunt nails into his own flesh. “In a bit.”

“Soon. It’s late, Toji.” You order him to bed like a mother would her child.

He nods as if you could see the gesture. “Soon, then.”

You bid him a good night, turning once more into bed before settling back into the depths of the slumber Toji had interrupted. He clasps his cell between his ear and shoulder, basking in your gentle breaths. It’s the same sounds you made the night you fucked him. He slept upon your chest, head over your heart, listening to its beats. You drooled on his pillow, he gave a quiet scoff at the memory. Are you drooling now?

Toji never sleeps.

likes and reblogs are appreciated !

tags . • @4imhry @sugurubabe @mastermasterlist1p1 @mikisspeak @fluttershyfangs @iluv-ace @xstom @bratbby333 @mizzfizz @sserafin @wo-ming-bai @maexc @r0semultiverse @r0ckst4rjk @aesukuni @taelattecookie @purple-obsidian @hqtoge @khaothick @saintkaylaa @ya9amicide @crayzyaarna @saiki-enthusiast @haesify @nyamocka @sixxze @lifesucksweswallow @darkstarlight82 @megumisdivinedogs @celestialol @yunho-leeknow @ghostfacefricker6969 @aizawa19 @lupicalbestwolf @nymphsdomain @makuzume

[seyaryminamoto]

I try not to get too rambly lately because I am indeed busy (trying to finish a Patreon piece rn!), but... I'd say this moment warrants it.

I have spent over a decade building up to this chapter and its developments. It's very much the climax of the entire story. The journey we've been on was always meant to lead us to this, for all emotions to come to a head, for all threads to converge right where they shall.

To make it clear just how long ago I intended for this particular plot point, I hereby present all evidence needed:

This is a scanned old artwork from a long time ago. I've kept it quiet for ages, showing it only to a few people, because I didn't want to give away too much pertaining how Gladiator would unfold.

This piece was scanned on November 11th, 2014, according to the properties of the file. While of course I was nowhere near the level of quality I am at now, this piece, at the time, was one of my unquestionable best. In fact, I remember @jordanalane straight up asking me if I had asked someone else to draw this, because it seemed sooooooooo beyond my style back in those days... I was pretty flattered by that, even if maybe I should have been proud and said OF COURSE it was me! 🤣But the point still stands, it was a rarity for me to do something of this quality 10 years ago, even if I absolutely could remake it and outdo it now.

What I'm saying is simply that I've spent a long, long time working towards this endgame. Once I realized where we were headed, the direction of Gladiator became kind of immutable in my head. It was the ending that made sense. The development that would bring everything together properly:

Our story started with these two clashing, as enemies, and altering their lives forever by what appeared to be a mere coincidence.

In that instance, Sokka was completely overwhelmed. He wasn't strong enough to fight one-on-one against Azula. She had the upper hand at every point in time. That was the starting point of Sokka's gradual power climb: he faced an unbeatable foe who then became his greatest ally, helping him become so much stronger than he ever knew he could be...

... Leading up to this: once again, they face each other as enemies, after what feels like a lifetime of bonding and sharing incredible adventures, growing together and becoming better people by each other's side. Both grew stronger across time... but Sokka, undoubtedly, had the steeper power climb. Thus, the outcome this time is nowhere near as straight-forward as it was back when the story began.

Sokka's growth was meant to bring him here, to face his worst possible enemy, and this time, actually have a chance to prevail. What most people surely didn't expect all along was for this worst-enemy to be Azula, of all people, after everything they've been through. But what exactly will he choose when he finally has a chance at victory against her? Can he stay true to who he is... or will the pressures destroy him?

Near the start of the story, Piandao warned Azula to be careful, for if she broke Sokka to the point where he no longer knew who he was, Sokka would lose his greatest strength. He warned her not to turn him into someone he was not. It's a thread that has been dangling all throughout the story, sometimes easily forgotten, but ever-present nonetheless: in pushing matters to the extent Azula has, is Sokka's true self lost now? Or will he cling to it still, even in the face of likely death, all be it to make an unthinkable choice that might just change the fate of the world...?

:')

Guess you'll find out on Friday! :'D

Preview: Gladiator Chapter 374

As memories of better times rush through their minds and hearts, Sokka and Azula collide on a battlefield, as enemies, for the first time since their fateful encounter in the South Pole. The armies around them remain at a standstill, waiting for the outcome of the duel between Princess and Gladiator.

One will hesitate. The other will demand for no mercy. As steel and flames clash furiously, the fate of the world shall hinge on the choice the victor shall make, upon facing a defeated foe: will the blade strike down...?

Or will they surrender?

Read Gladiator HERE or HERE

For a snippet of the new chapter, support me on Patreon!

[warmilikeit]

Yandere Batfam x Camp half-blood (Neglected reader)

DC x Pjo

Part 6

This had like a huge timeskip

___________________________

It's been 3 months Since you decided to stay at camp

It's been so good, the camp is quiet, since it's school year right now, it's currently October, the weather outside doesn't really affect the camp but it's chilly, the good kind

Percy and Annabeth have been sending you photographs of their schools, since you can't go to school anymore

Because you're "dead"

Still even if you're not studying, no way you're gonna let them get ahead of you, so you spent an entire day carving an Athena statue

You got a bunch of food from the Cornucopia as offerings

Then you pray "Lady Athena, may you please guide me, I need books on grade 6 studies.... Please?"

For good measure you decided to place a drachma on the statue

"I- I want to study... And uhhh, I've never really prayed to a god before- I mean what kind of god would - okay going off topic, I want to learn because I don't want to feel helpless anymore, I've been there, never again, so if- you could help me... I'd appreciate it, but you don't have to if you don't want- sooo... Yeah I guess, do I say amen? Um bye"

"didn't think a child of Aphrodite would ever be interested in learning"

"AH!" You yelp as a voice appears behind you

" 'Thena can you not sneak up on children, that's fucking creepy"

You tilt your head "Mr. D???"

"kid next time you want to study just bother Chiron, there's legal procedures to this kinds of things" he groaned

You were about to apologize but then Athena spoke up for you "Nonsense, if she wants an education is it not reasonable to get it from the best?"

She turns to you "kid, what do you want to know about?"

With great determination you say "I want to know everything I can manage to learn"

"really?" She smirked

"Yes. Whatever you can teach me, how to use an abacus, what body part do you stab someone to kill them in an instant, how to crochet, whatever you can teach"

"yeah while you two are at it can you teach her how to undo my punishment" Mr D opens another new diet coke

______________________________

"Gods- Wait crap" you collapse on the floor

4 fucking hours now, she's been training you for four hours, Mr D had finished 55 diet cokes watching and laughing at you

Out of every fight, she wins, of course she does, out of every train, sparring, archery and everything she made you try

"new rule, all you have to do is make sure this cloth touches me, whether it be a momentary graze or wrap it around me, it just needs to make contact, and I will try to push you out of bounds" she says pulling out a blue cloth and a bunch of rocks and twigs form a square

You didn't think it'd be easy, at all, she'd dodge and dodge and dodge

You lunge at her and change direction to where she's going, but she flies instead

The sun is going down, and Athena flies down and kicks you near the bounds

"AHHH! ow! Shit!" Your form looks disfigured, your arm is under your body and it doesn't look good

You cry, tears coming out as you try to not scream "I fell the wrong way, I-" you sob on the ground

"Shit, Thena what did you do?!?" Mr D stands up

"I'm sorry- I didn't, help please...." You scream in pain

Athena teleports to you and kneels, she turns to Mr D "I'll call on Apollo to heal her arm and-" she stops talking

She stops talking as she feels a silky texture on her cheeck

With wide eyes she looks at you, and your smug smile, that stupid smile

"I finally won against you" you stand up and dust yourself off

You can't beat the goddess of wisdom, but- you can trick her

"huh..." She says

Mr D spikes his diet coke on the ground "(name) go fuck yourself"

___________________________

I'm about to take a test rn, it's mathematics 😀

Anyways enjoy the chapter:3

@delias-stuff @sadslasher13 @ellaprime7 @wpdarlingpan @mountvesuvu @chinxinsomnia @nathaly36 @vanessa-boo @bat1212 @ceramic-raven

[itneverendshere]

you said i have to trust more freely - r.c series (six)

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader; word count: 5.5k requested here; (one); (two); (three); (four); (five)

Being with Rafe was surprisingly easy, like slipping into a routine you didn’t know you’d been craving. It wasn’t over-the-top or dramatic; it was just normal—in the way that holding hands and sharing glances in crowded classrooms felt like the most natural thing in the world.

The guy who used to get under your skin, drive you absolutely crazy, and somehow, now, was making you melt with just one look? You didn’t know when your life turned into a rom-com, but you were pretty sure Rafe missed the part where he was supposed to stop being so intense the second the credits rolled. 

But, no. He was always like this now. Kisses in between classes, pulling you into him like he’d forget how to breathe if you stepped too far away. And you were starting to crave it. The constant closeness, the feel of his hands on you.

Today, it was more of the same—Rafe slipping into the seat next to you during a boring afternoon lecture, sliding his arm around you like it was his assigned spot. Like he belonged there. You had barely settled in before he was leaning in close, his mouth brushing your temple in a casual, absentminded kiss.

“Didn’t you just see me twenty minutes ago?” you teased, glancing up at him.

“Yeah, and?” He didn’t bother to look up at the professor as he trailed his fingers down your arm, sending goosebumps in their wake.

“And,” you whispered, fighting to keep your smile in check, “maybe we should try to pay attention?”

He glanced down at you, that half-smirk playing on his lips. “You really wanna listen to this guy talk about the English 18th-century economic policies, or do you wanna tell me what you’re doing after class?”

“Rafe—”

“—Because I’m thinking we grab coffee and maybe—”

“Shhh!” you hissed, your cheeks heating when you realized a few people in front of you were turning around to look. You shot him a pointed look, mouthing, You’re going to get us kicked out.

He just grinned wider, completely unbothered, and leaned back in his seat, looking more amused than ever. “Fine, fine,” he whispered. “But only ‘cause you’re cute when you’re pretending to be all serious.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, settling back against him instead. It should have felt weird, being so openly affectionate like this, but somehow, it didn’t. You knew people were watching, whispering even—Is that really Rafe with her? Didn’t they used to, like, hate each other?—but he made it all feel so… normal. 

He still made it impossible to focus, not dropping his touch from your skin.

“Are you even listening?”

“Not even a little.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the grin threatening to break free. “You’re going to fail if you keep staring at me.”

He leaned closer, “Worth it. Plus I got a hot tutor to help me out.”

There it was again—that fluttery feeling in your stomach, the one that always seemed to come alive whenever he looked at you like that. You shifted in your seat, your leg brushing against his, and he tightened his grip on you, almost as if he knew what he was doing to you.

“Pay attention, Cameron.”

“Make me,” he shot back, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Rafe,” you looked around to make sure no one was watching. But of course, a few heads were already turned in your direction. People had started noticing the two of you—how he was always leaning closer, how his arm would always be slung around your shoulders whenever you sat together.

Just as you were about to elbow him the professor started handing back quizzes—the ones you both knew were worth 50% of your eventual final grade.

You were nervous, but not just for yourself. You knew how much these grades meant to Rafe. He wasn’t one to show it, but you could tell. He used to barely scrape by with D’s before you two started your deal. You’d spent so many nights going over chapters together, sometimes until the early hours of the morning, and you were hoping it all paid off. The professor reached your row, placing the papers face down on the desk in front of you and Rafe. You glanced at yours first—an A, not bad. But when you turned your head to peek at his, you froze.

B.

Rafe had gotten a B.

You almost let out an excited squeal right there in the middle of the lecture hall but stopped yourself just in time. You turned to him, eyes wide, a huge grin spreading across your face. “Rafe, look!”

He was already smirking, casually flipping his paper back over, but you could tell he was trying to hide how pleased he was. “Yeah, I saw,” he said, all laid-back like it was no big deal. But the spark in his eyes said otherwise.

“B!” you tried to keep your voice as low as possible, but you couldn’t help it. “You’ve never gotten a B in this class!”

Last quiz he’d gotten a C, which was better... but a B in the last three quizzes? That was something.

“Thanks for the reminder,” he teased, nudging you with his shoulder, “Told you I’d get it together.”

“I told you you’d get it together,” you corrected.

He rolled his eyes, but you could see he was proud of himself. “And I told you I got a pretty good tutor, huh?”

You nudged him playfully. “Pretty good? You mean the best.”

You felt your heart swell at the look on his face. It wasn’t just about the grade—it was about the effort, the late-night study sessions, and the fact that he did care, even if he pretended not to. 

But his touching was even worse between classes.

The second the lecture ended, he was on his feet, gathering his stuff with that effortless, laid-back confidence that made it seem like he wasn’t in a rush, even though you knew he couldn’t wait to get out of there.

“Ready?” He didn’t bother waiting for you to answer, just slipped his hand into yours and pulled you gently toward the door.

Out in the hallway, he barely gave you a second to find your footing before pulling you in close, his hand lifting to cradle your face as he pressed a kiss to your lips. Your pulse jumped, and you felt the familiar rush of heat rise to your cheeks, even though you should be used to it by now.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, feeling a little sheepish when he finally pulled back.

“What?” He gave you an innocent look that didn’t match the way his eyes were sparkling. “Can’t a guy kiss his soon-to-be- girlfriend after suffering through a lecture?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to look stern but failing miserably. “You know half the hallway is staring, right?”

“Let them.” He shrugged nonchalantly, lacing his fingers with yours like it was no big deal. Like being with you like this—in front of everyone—wasn’t the huge deal it still felt like to you. 

The moment you paused by your locker, his hands were on your waist, spinning you to face him.

“Finally,” he murmured, dipping his head down to catch your lips in a kiss that was too much tongue and entirely too distracting for a busy hallway.

“Cameron,” you mumbled against his mouth, your fingers curling around his biceps. “We’re gonna be late.”

He hummed, lips not leaving yours. “Worth it,” he muttered, his hands sliding up your back, pressing you closer. “Always worth it.”

Your heart did a little flip, but you pulled back just enough to give him a look. “You said that in class, too.”

He grinned, looking completely unrepentant. “Yeah, and I meant it then, too.”

Your cheeks heated, and you shot him a half-hearted glare, hoping it covered up the way your purse sped up at the way he was looking at you.

The days blended together like that—Rafe’s hand on you somewhere always—whether it was his arm slung around your waist as you walked to class, his thumb brushing little circles on your knee when you were sitting across from each other in the library, or just… holding your hand, like he needed to feel your skin against his.

You were starting to forget what it felt like to not have him touching you. And maybe that should have scared you a little, but it didn’t. It was nice, easy. The way he’d press a kiss to your forehead before slipping into his own class, whisper something low and teasing when he caught you blushing, smirking at the way you tried to hide your smile.

After a long afternoon of half-hearted studying—thanks to Rafe’s wandering hands and that stupidly distracting grin—you found yourself back in your dorm room, tucked against him on your tiny bed, with a movie you weren’t even pretending to watch playing softly in the background.

It was cozy, almost too cozy. You’d ditched your jeans for a pair of shorts and borrowed one of his hoodies that still smelled faintly like him, and Rafe was propped up against the headboard, his legs tangled with yours. The smell of popcorn lingered in the air, but the bowl had been abandoned on your desk, long forgotten as you focused on something infinitely better.

Him.

You were still breathless from the last round of his kisses—his lips trailing down your neck, his thumb grazing against the line of your jaw as if he were memorizing it. And then his mouth had moved lower, his teeth nipping at your collarbone until you’d let out an embarrassingly needy sound that had him pulling back, smirking.

“What?” you’d huffed, feeling your cheeks flush.

“Nothing,” he’d murmured, “Just love seeing you like this.”

Like this?

You didn’t even know what he meant. All you knew was that he hadn’t stopped looking at you like that since, his eyes following every curve of your face, lingering on the way your lips parted as you tried to get your breathing under control.

“Focus,” you’d said, half-laughing, half-gasping. “We’re supposed to be studying.”

“Pretty sure I was learning a lot,” he’d countered as he ran a hand down your side, “Like how you’re really ticklish right here.” 

And then his fingers had dug into your side, making you squirm and giggle, batting his hand away until you’d ended up tangled even closer together, his mouth pressing quick kisses along your cheek until you finally gave in, letting him kiss you again.

That’s how you’d ended up here now—his arm slung around your shoulders, his other hand playing with the ends of your hair as you half-watched whatever movie he’d picked. His chest was warm and solid against your back, and every now and then, he’d press a kiss to your hair.

“You’re gonna miss the whole movie,” he teased lightly, his voice rumbling against your ear.

“You’re the one who distracted me,” you pointed out, turning slightly to give him a look. “What was I supposed to do?”

“Hmm, fair,” he agreed, grinning lazily as his fingers traced random patterns on your thigh. “But I think I’d rather kiss you anyway.”

 “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only for you,” And there it was again—that look, the one that made your breath hitch and your heart do a funny little backflip.

It was so easy to lose track of time like this—getting lost in him, the way his eyes softened whenever he looked at you, the warmth of his hand against your skin. You didn’t know how long you lay there, just soaking it all in, until he moved a little, turning slightly so he was looking right at you.

“Hey,” he reached up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Hey,” you whispered back, blinking up at him. He hesitated for a second and then he took a deep breath, looking way too serious for what you’d expected on a lazy night like this.

“Can I ask you something?” his thumb brushed softly against your cheek.

“Yeah, of course.”

“I, um…” He paused, looking almost… nervous? But that didn’t make sense. This was Rafe Cameron—the guy who never seemed fazed by anything. “I was thinking… I mean, we’ve been… you know.”

You blinked at him, trying to understand where he was going with this. “Rafe, you’re not making any sense.”

He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe himself. 

“Right, sorry.” He looked down for a second, then met your eyes again, “I was just wondering if… if you’d want to be my girlfriend. Officially.”

Rafe? Nervous? Asking if you’d want to be his girlfriend? As if that wasn’t already painfully obvious.

You pressed your lips together, trying not to burst into a cackle as you pretended to think it over. “Hmmm…” you started slowly, watching the way his brow furrowed, like he was already second-guessing himself. “I dunno…”

He blinked, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. “Wait, unless you don’t want to? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry—like, we don’t have to—”

“Rafe.” You cut him off, watching as his eyes darted between yours, full-on panicking now.

“I just thought… you know, since we’re always hanging out… and the kisses, I mean—unless you think they’re weird? I’m sorry, stop looking at me like that, please.”

You finally let out the laugh you’d been holding in.

“Really? You’re laughing at me now?”

“Cameron,” you said through a chuckle, “I’m already basically your girlfriend. You didn’t have to ask.”

He raised an eyebrow, pretending to look offended. “I’m being a gentleman here, okay? I—I know, okay? I know this isn’t the way people usually do it,” he rambled, suddenly looking adorably flustered. “I was going to do some big, stupid gesture, maybe show up with flowers or whatever, but… I thought about it, and I know you hate surprises, so I didn’t want to make a whole thing out of it and freak you out.” He paused, taking another deep breath, his hand tightening slightly around yours. “But I couldn’t wait anymore,” he admitted. “I just— I want it to be real. I want to be able to call you mine. For real.”

This wasn’t a casual question. This wasn’t some flirty comment in the hallway, something he could brush off if you didn’t react the way he wanted. He was serious. Completely, terrifyingly serious.

 “You really—?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, leaning forward, “I really want this. You and me. No more of this ‘are-they-or-aren’t-they’ crap.”

The smile that spread across your face was blinding, “Okay. I’ll say yes for your sake.”

And then, he was kissing you—hard and fast and completely giddy, like he couldn’t believe it.

“God, you’re gonna make me crazy,” he murmured against your mouth, his hands cradling your face like he couldn’t get close enough. “My girl. You’re actually my girl.”

The second his lips were on yours again, all coherent thoughts went flying out of your head. It was like his mouth had some kind of superpower over you. t made everything else—every little doubt and worry—just… disappear. 

“Oh my God, no. Wait. Tell me,” you said, sitting up a little so you could look at him better. “When did you realize you had feelings for me?”

Rafe’s hand was still brushing against your thigh as he looked down at you. “Like… three weeks into our deal.”

 “Three weeks?!”

“Yeah,” he said it casually, like he hadn’t just dropped that little bomb on you. “We were about three weeks in. You were still going on about Nate, and I was, I don’t know. I started getting annoyed anytime you brought him up.”

You stared at him, trying to wrap your head around that. “So, while I was trying to figure out how to get Nate to like me, you were just… what? Secretly into me?”

He snickered, leaning back against the headboard, looking way too relaxed for someone who’d kept his feelings a secret for months.

“Pretty much.”

“You were such an ass to me back then,” you pointed out, still kind of shocked.

“Yeah, because I didn’t know what the hell to do with how I was feeling,” he admitted, “We acted like we hated each other for years. I didn’t just wake up one day and go, ‘Oh, maybe I like her.’ It took me a minute to figure it out.”

You were still processing. Three weeks in? That was barely when you started realizing he wasn’t the worst person in the world.

“So, what, you just... didn’t say anything?”

Rafe gave you a look, like you should’ve known better. “Of course not. What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I know we’ve spent most of our lives hating each other, but now I’m kind of into you’?” He shook his head. “Besides, you were still all hung up on Nate.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands for a second. “Oh my God. That’s so embarrassing.”

“Nah,” he said, laughing softly as he pulled your hands away from your face. “It’s kinda cute, honestly. You had no idea.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You really waited until I was over my Nate phase to make a move, didn’t you?”

“Yup. I was patient,” he said, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “I was better for you anyway.”

Rafe was still so close, his lips hovering just above yours like he was waiting for you to make the move. But you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction—not yet. “You think you’re better for me, huh?”

 “I know I am.”

You didn’t even have time to roll your eyes before he kissed you again, slowly at first, almost teasing, until his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you in closer. The way his lips moved against yours, the little rasp he let out when you kissed him back harder—it nearly sent your heart into cardiac arrest.

And then you ruined it. Because then, like always, that stupid little voice crept in. The one that wouldn’t just let you be happy. Yeah, it was perfect now, in your tiny dorm room where it was just the two of you and the outside world didn’t exist. But next week, you’d both be going home for spring break. And that voice kept whispering what you didn’t want to think about.

Back home, it wouldn’t just be the two of you anymore. No more bubble. Just the island. And everyone on it. All the stupid expectations and labels and… baggage.

Because you were you, the pogue girl who worked summers and knew every corner of The Cut like the back of her hand. And he was Rafe Cameron. Kook royalty. The guy who used to make it his personal mission to remind you of that difference every chance he got.

His friends? They were probably still the same assholes who’d laughed about it like you were something beneath them. What if they still did?

And what if—God, what if—he started to see it like that again too? Realize that all this wasn’t worth the hassle? He was always so sure here, like the past didn’t matter, like he wasn’t even that guy anymore, but… what if being back there, where everyone knew who you really were… changed things?

You pulled back slightly, just enough to break the kiss. He made a low, disappointed sound, eyes opening and immediately locking on yours, his hand still holding your jaw. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lied, “I’m just… I keep thinking about… going home.”

His brows drew together, “What about it?”

“It’s just… things are different there,” you looked away even though his hand was gently turning your face back toward him.

“Different how?” he pressed, like he needed to figure out what was going on in your head.

“You know.” You bit your lip, taking a shaky breath. “You’re Rafe Cameron, Rafe. And I’m… I’m just—”

His jaw clenched, his fingers stilling against your skin. “No. Stop,” he said softly but firmly. “You’re not ‘just’ anything.”

“It’s true, though! I’m still that pogue girl to them. Your friends, your people—Kooks—they’re gonna look at me and see exactly what they used to. And even if they don’t say it, they’re thinking it. I can feel it, Rafe. And you—” You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. “You can’t pretend that won’t matter.”

Suddenly, he was sitting up, practically towering over you, “Are you kidding me? You think I give a shit what they think?”

You blinked up at him, “Rafe—”

“No, seriously,” he went on, cutting you off, his hand still cradling your face like he was afraid you’d run if he let go. “I don’t care what they think. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I care about you.” He leaned closer, his eyes blazing as he held your gaze. “I’m not that guy anymore. I’m not… that Rafe.”

“But what if—”

“No ‘what ifs,’” he murmured, shaking his head, his thumb brushing over your cheek like he was wiping away an invisible tear. “I’m done pretending. I’m done worrying about who’s watching or what they’re saying. I don’t want to hide this. I don’t want to hide you. I’m not ashamed, okay?”

Your chest tightened painfully. “But what if being back there—”

“Baby, baby, baby,” he cut you off, voice soft but so steady, like he was trying to pull you back to him. “No. Don’t do this. I’m not letting you talk yourself out of this.” He leaned in, his forehead gently bumping against yours. “When I say I want you, I mean I want all of you. Here, home, everywhere. I want to show up with you at every party, every stupid get-together, holding your hand and daring anyone to say a word about it.”

Your breath hitched, feeling stupid tears prick at your eyes, “You—You really mean that?”

“I’m not going anywhere. Home changes nothing. We’re still us. You’re still mine.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and he brushed it away, his lips hovering over yours.

“Promise?” 

“Promise.”

You were a goner after that.

Completely lost in the feel of his tongue slipping past your lips, his fingers teasing at the hem of your shirt. Your heart was practically doing somersaults when you pulled him closer, your nails scraping lightly across his bare back.

“Rafe,” you breathed, your voice barely more than a sigh as his hands roamed up under your top, fingertips skimming along the sensitive skin of your ribs. He made a low, satisfied sound against your lips, his grip tightening just enough to make you want to eat him whole. His thumbs brushed the underside of your bra, and you arched into him, chasing the touch like you were starved for it.

“Baby, you have no idea what you do to me,” he practically cooed, his voice all gravelly and wrecked as his mouth traced down the side of your neck, peppering kisses. “So fucking perfect—”

You tugged his hair lightly, just enough to make him look up at you again, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips. “You know, you’re supposed to be watching the movie,” you teased, breathless, not even pretending to sound convincing.

“Movie’s boring,” he purred, his hands slipping higher, thumb tracing over the lace of your bra. “I’m a lot more interested in you, pretty girl.”

Before you could even think of a comeback, his mouth was on yours again, needier this time. He kissed you like he was desperate, one of his hands sliding back down, gripping your waist as he dragged you onto his lap, and you could feel every lean muscle of his chest, the solid heat of his body pressed up against you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he grabbed a handful of your ass, holding you to him like you were the only thing that mattered.

You made a small, breathy sound as he explored your mouth, his hand sliding into your hair, cradling your face as he angled you just right, and you instinctively leaned into him, waiting more. He tilted your chin up slightly, and his tongue slid against yours, slick and probing, your mouths moving together in soft gasps and heavy breaths. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before. You couldn’t believe this was the same guy who had been your first kiss just a month ago. You knew—knew—that if you kept this up, if you didn’t stop—

The door burst open.

“I swear, if I ever see that asshole again, I’m going to— Oh. Oh.”

You whipped around to see Ava standing in the doorway, looking like she was ready to throw hands, in all her pissed-off, storming-in glory. She was still wearing her cute little date outfit—red crop top, high-waisted jeans—but her hair was kind of a mess, and her lipstick was smudged, like she’d been fuming the entire walk over. 

Rafe’s lips were swollen, red, a little glossy, and his hair was a mess from your fingers. But did he look embarrassed? Even the slightest bit ashamed that you’d just been caught practically swallowing each other’s faces?

Absolutely not. 

But what made you actually gape was the fact that fact Ava didn’t even blink at the sight of you straddling Rafe, his shirt completely off, your own top halfway up your ribs. Instead, she just waved her hand dismissively, like she couldn’t care less that she’d just walked in on a borderline soft-core porno scene. 

“What happened?” you asked, your voice still breathless as you tried to act like you hadn’t been moments away from letting him do whatever he wanted to you.

“I was saying—this fucker had the nerve to tell me that he thinks women shouldn’t split the bill because they don’t work as hard. Like, what the actual fuck?”

Rafe let out a loud, frustrated groan against your shoulder, his forehead dropping onto your collarbone as he muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You smothered a giggle, trying and failing to glare at him while Ava, completely oblivious, kept right on ranting.

“Seriously, I should’ve just walked out then and there, but noooo, I thought, be nice, Ava, don’t make a scene. And what does this prick do?” She threw her hands up, pacing back and forth as you slowly—very awkwardly—slipped off Rafe’s lap, tugging your hoodie back into place.

“Uh… what?” you asked, doing your absolute best to sound normal while Rafe buried his face against your neck, his shoulders shaking as he mumbled, “She’s such a fucking cockblock,” against your skin. You smacked the back of his head lightly, biting your lip to keep from laughing.

“Shh,” you hissed at him, and he just grumbled something unintelligible, his lips still grazing your shoulder.

“Anyway!” Ava continued, still blissfully unaware. “The asshole pulls out coupons. Like, actual physical coupons. And then he tries to use one to get a free dessert, but surprise, surprise, it’s expired, so what does he do? Blames me. Me! Like I’m the one who asked to go to a place with coupons—”

“Jesus Christ,” Rafe sighed, finally lifting his head from your neck, giving her an exasperated look. “Does she ever stop talking?”

“Shut up,” you murmured, swatting his chest even as you tried not to giggle. Ava’s gaze flicked over to the two of you, her expression still murderously angry—but she still didn’t seem even a little fazed by the fact that Rafe was literally shirtless, looking like he’d been in the middle of something much more interesting.

“Anyway, so then he tries to say that he thinks I’m being too sensitive. Like, are you kidding? Sensitive? I should’ve shoved the damn breadsticks up his ass!”

Rafe let out a sound that was somewhere between a snort and a growl, dropping his head back onto your shoulder with a dramatic groan. “You’re killing me."

You giggled, shaking your head and patting his hair soothingly. “You’ll survive,” you murmured, still trying to keep a straight face. Ava was still pacing, muttering angrily under her breath.

“I swear to God, next time, I’m just bringing a taser. I’m not playing anymore. You think I’m being sensitive? Here, take 50,000 volts and let’s see how sensitive you feel after that—”

Rafe lifted his head again, looking between you and Ava with an expression that could only be described as done. “Can I kill her?” he asked flatly.

You smacked his shoulder again, laughing. “No, Rafe. Be nice.”

“I am being nice,” he shot back, giving you an incredulous look. “I’m suffering, babe. I’m over here, trying to—” He gestured between the two of you pointedly. “—and she’s giving me a freaking lecture on expired coupons.”

“I know,” you whispered, grinning as he groaned and dropped his head against your chest this time.

“Why do I even try?” he sighed, sounding utterly defeated.

“And then he actually thought he could just—”

Ava abruptly stopped mid-sentence, her eyes narrowing as she took in the scene before her. Her attention flicked between you and Rafe, lingering on the way you were still nestled against him.

“Wait a second,” she said slowly, “What the hell just happened here?”

You felt your cheeks heat up as you shot a look at Rafe, who was now smirking like the cat who got the cream.

“Uh, nothing? Just a little... study break?” you stammered.

Ava crossed her arms, her eyebrow arched in that way that always made you feel like she was reading your mind. “Study break, huh?”

Rafe leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “What can I say? I’m a good tutor. A very hands-on tutor.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, suddenly serious.

“You better use protection, Cameron,” she warned, pointing a finger at him like a stern teacher. “I swear to God, if you get her pregnant—”

“AVA!” you exclaimed, mortified, covering your face with your hands. You could feel the heat radiating off your cheeks, and it was all you could do to not melt into the floor.

“What?” she said innocently, clearly enjoying your reaction. “Just looking out for my girl here. I mean, have you seen him? He’s trouble.”

Rafe, still unbothered, just laughed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yup, there she is,” he said, glancing at you with a cheeky glint in his eye. 

You shot him a faux glare, then turned back to Ava, throwing your hands up in exasperation. You groaned, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. “Can we not talk about my potential future children right now?”

She just scooted right between you and Rafe, sitting in bed and throwing her legs over the blanket, settling in like she belonged there. You blinked, caught between amused and confused, as she wiggled down, practically cocooning herself.

"What are we watching?" Ava asked, completely ignoring the fact that she had become the ultimate third wheel.

You could see Rafe moving, trying to reclaim some form of contact with you. His arm was awkwardly hovering like he wasn’t sure what to do now that you were out of reach. You turned slightly—he was full-on pouting. His bottom lip stuck out just enough that you had to fight the urge to laugh.

“Uh, nothing now,” Rafe muttered, his voice full of that trademark grumpiness. “Can't even hold my girl.”

Ava just shrugged, completely unfazed, casually throwing an arm over your waist. “Oh, c’mon, you’ll survive one movie without being all over each other.” She glanced between you two like she was the voice of reason, which—let’s be real—she was not.

You shot Rafe a playful look, but he was still sulking, “Gonna start dragging you to my dorm.”

“Shup up Cameron, let me watch the movie.”

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Grill the Grid

Guys, I'm sorry this is so short. I've had a bout of writers block but still wanted to get another chapter out. I will be going back to working on the regular chapters soon! But enjoy this take on Grill the Grid!

Like always - comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Much love :D

Key for this chapter: regular text - just normal speaking bold - words on the flip boards italics - scene change bold italics - the narrator lady

Episode One: Radio Show 

A quick snapshot of each driver shows up before the opening title of “Grill the Grid” crosses the screen. 

You quickly showed up and clapped your hands. 

“Welcome ladies and gents to another season of Grill the Grid.” You showed a cheeky smile as you winked to the camera. 

“Can you please state your name and what team you drive for?” 

You sighed as you thought. “Christian is going to kill me if I can't remember all of it.” You looked back at the camera. “My name is Y/n L/n and I drive for the Honda RBPT Oracle Red Bull Racing Formula One Team.” 

“That is correct.” 

Your eyes widened as you started to laugh. “I didn’t think I’d get that.” 

The lady behind the camera smiled. “Max didn’t get the entire thing.” 

You stared at the camera like you were on the office before turning to someone off camera to the side. “Do I get a point for that?” 

The video now cut to Max. 

Max had his hands on his side, head down before he looked back up. 

He had a nervous smile as he tried to think. “Yeah, I don’t know. Red Bull Racing?” He shrugged as multiple people around him laughed. 

“It’s actual Honda RBPT Oracle Red Bull Racing.” 

Max rolled his eyes. “How is anyone supposed to remember that?” 

“Y/n did.” 

“Of course.” 

Words flashed on the screen signaling to viewers the actual start of the episode. Multiple familiar faces showed as they all stood next to a board with multiple flaps of paper. 

Lando smugly looked at the title and then to the camera. “I got this in the bag.” 

“How do you think you’ll do?” 

Oscar was now on screen. “Uhhhhh.” He didn’t have time to answer.

“I think I’ll do ok. I’m not too familiar with other team’s radios, but I can try?” A red-clad Monegasque questioned himself. 

The drivers all flipped the first page.

--He better get me more stroopwaffles after that. Asshole--  

You flipped the first page and barely glanced at it before answering. “Lando.” 

“Lando.” Max also flipped.

Oscar, Daniel, Charles, and Carlos at once, “Lando.” 

Lando just stared into the camera. “Me?” 

You smiled back at the camera. “This was at Zandvoort right? After Max kinda bumped him.” 

“He pushed me off the track! Bumped is an understatement.” Lando now flipped the next page and leaned back to laugh. “Y/n.” 

--Speed. I am Speed. One winner, 19 losers. I eat losers for breakfast--

Max, once again, barely glanced before answering, “Y/n.” 

Lance looked around trying to get a hint. He couldn’t find one. “Logan? I know he’s watched the Cars movies.” 

Logan laughed as well before shaking his head. “Y/n.” 

“Me.” Your face flushed red. “Truthfully, I didn’t know the radio was on.” 

Oscar made a noise as he thought. “I want to say Logan because he recently watched that. But my heart wants to say Y/n.” 

“Is that your final answer.” 

“Yes.” 

“That’s correct.” 

Fernando, Carlos, Daniel, and Alex flipped the page. “Y/n.” 

--This is what she gets for telling me to use my mirrors. AHA! Does she even have her driver’s license?-- 

“Aha! This is Daniel.” You stood looking at the next page. “So in quali, he almost hit me in turn four during my flying lap and I told him to use his mirrors in the race. Well, he overtook me in the first lap and I fell behind.” Your smile disappeared as you looked right into the camera. “And yes, I have my driver’s license.” 

Daniel almost fell to his knees as he read the next one. His gummy smile almost took over his face. “This is me to Y/n.” 

Max just looked lost. “Who said this?” 

“Daniel.”

“Oh.”  

 

Episode Two: Champions Part 2

“So do you know what’s next?” 

You looked confused as you looked around the empty space. “Well there’s no board here?” 

Charles shrugged. “It could be anything. I certainly hope that this season we won’t have to list the champions in some order again.” 

Max looked around with a confused look. “Again?” 

Lewis rolled his eyes. “Man I knew I should have gone back and actually memorized them.” 

“There’s no way someone is getting all of them. Sebastian is gone.” Lando shrugged. 

It was now back to Charles who looked a bit more pale. A loud beep sounded on a views screen as he looked down. 

You once again clapped. “I knew all those Wikipedia pages would come in handy. Are we starting from newest to oldest or oldest to newest.” 

“Any way you want.” 

You looked up in thought as you started to list. “Ok. Max was in 2023, 2022, 2021. Then Lewis in 2020, 2019, 1028, 2017. Nico won in 2016 then it was back to Lewis in ’15 and ’14. Seb won from 2013 to 2010…” 

Max sighed before he started. “Uh, me in 2023 to 2021. Then Lewis until 2014.” 

“Incorrect. Nico won in 2016.” 

Max hummed. “Uh, Nico in ’16. Then Lewis to ’14. I know Seb won in 2013.” 

It was back to you. “And then Michael Schumacher again in 2010, which was his first with Ferrari. Then it was Hakkinen in ’99 and ’98. Uh, Villeneuve in 1997 who was preceded by Hill in 1996. Then it was back to Schumi in ’95 and ’94.”

Lando looked lost. 

Charles was still pale but he tried. “It was Max, Lewis, Nico, Lewis again. Then Seb then Lewis again?” 

“You’re forgetting another Mercedes Driver.” 

Charles looked even more confused. “Uh.” 

“Jensen Button in 2009.” 

“He was in Mercedes?” Charles just ended up walking off. 

Back to you. “Mario Andretti was the last American in 1978. Niki and Hunt danced around from 1977 to 1976. Then it was Fittipaldi, Stewart, Fittpaldi, Stewart, Rindt, Stewart respectfully in 1975, 1974, 1973, 1972, 1971, and 1970.” 

Oscar looked as if he was having a stroke. 

Logan ran a hand down his face. “I only know Andretti in 1978 and then Phil Hill in 1961. You know. Go America!” 

Fernando tried but couldn’t get past the nineties. Yet he had a smile on his face. “Y/n got all of these right, correct?” 

“She was the only one.”  

“Shut up, no she wasn’t.” Lando didn’t believe it. 

“Of course she did.” Max could only chuckle. “She would brag and brag about this in the plane.” 

“And then Ascari in 1952, then Fangio in 1951, and finally Farina in 1950!” You had a proud look on your face. “I knew I could do it. Did I miss any?” 

“Nope.”  

Episode Three: Guess These Headlights 

Charles, who had now recovered from his bout of PTSD, suddenly looked excited. “Now here is something I can do.” 

“Are you a car guy?” 

“Definitely.” Carlos responded with a smug look. “I grew up around cars.” 

“I mean. I know my McLarens?” Oscar questioned. “This is going to be hard.” 

Lando looked ready. “Let’s get this going.” 

You looked determined. “Bring it on.” You flipped the first page. “Ah. That’s a classic. A Ferrari F40.” You turned back to the camera. “If I didn’t have my Porsches, I would have bought an F40.” A far away thoughtful look crossed your face. “Maybe I’ll still get one. I’ll ask Charles. He can get me one.”  

Charles quickly answered “F40” and then flipped. “Ah. This is McLaren P1.” 

“McLaren P1,” Oscar answered. “The logo is in the headlights. Pretty helpful.” 

Daniel flipped the next one and stood back, hands on his hips. “I know Max has this car. But I can’t remember the name.” 

Lance finally looked as though he knew what it was. “This is the Aston Valkyrie.” 

Fernando also guessed it correctly. “Aston Valkyrie.” 

Next, Carlos easily got the next one. “La Ferrari. I wanted one.” 

“Did you get one.” 

Carlos nodded his head before answering. “No.” 

Max flipped through the pages very quickly. “Ah! I know this one. Y/n has two of these. It’s the Porsche 9-11’s.” 

“Y/n’s Porsche. The 9-11 model,” Alex responded. 

“I see these in my garage since Y/n’s apartment didn’t come with one, so she puts her’s in mine. It’s the Porsche 9-11,” Logan had a happy smile as he knew one. The next one, he didn’t know. 

“Not a clue.” Charles, Oscar, and Daniel all said as they flipped. 

Max took a minute to look at the X looking headlights. He hummed. “Y/n was just showing me a TikTok with this car. Says she wants one someday.” 

You had a giant grin on your face as you looked at the headlights. 

“Do you know what this car is?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Of course I know. It’s the 3 million dollar Ferrari V12 Engine Apollo Project Evo. There are currently 10 of them only in the world, and they are all owned.” 

“Do you have one of them?” 

You only smirked as you looked into the camera.

Max still stood next to his board, eyes to the sky as he really thought. His eyebrows raised as he remembered the answer. “This is like...the Apollo E car?” 

“That is correct. Now, does Y/n own one of these? She didn’t give us an answer.” 

Max looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh. No comment?”   

  

Episode Four: Random Skills

“Ok. For this challenge you have to guess what driver has this skill.” 

“Easy.” Came from Lando. 

You looked around confused. “I don’t think I have any skills.” 

“Do I even have a skill for them to use?” Lewis questioned himself. 

“First skill. Which driver is known for playing the piano.” 

“Sharl,” you smirked. “Easy.” 

“Charles.” Lance, Fernando, and Daniel all answered. 

“Me.” The Monegasque had a smile on his face. 

Oscar looked up. “Is it Y/n? She looks like she can play the piano.” 

“He said that? I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult.” You shrugged. 

“Which drivers claims to be able to hit a hole in one at the Monte Carlo Golf Course.” 

Max rolled his eyes. “I know Lando has claimed, but I’m going to say Carlos.” 

Carlos looked lost. “Me? I don’t know if I’ve said that though. Maybe Lando?” 

Logan answered, “Lando?” 

Lando also looked lost. “Me?” 

“No.” 

“Who is it then?” You questioned. Lando and Carlos had been your guess. 

“It is Pierre Gasly.” 

Lando huffed. “Get out of here.” 

The man in question had a guilty smile. “I forgot I said that. Let’s say it’s still true.”

You looked eager to get on with the game. You wanted to win that trophy. 

“Which driver has set a drive time around the Daytona International Speedway at 1 minute and 40 seconds. Which is only 8 seconds slower than the lap record.” 

“Oh, I didn’t know I would get on here for this category. It’s me right?” 

“Correct, Logan.”  

You took a little while to guess. “I’m gonna say Logan. Sounds like a very American thing to do at Daytona. And his brother drove for NASCAR right?” 

“Correct.”

Your fist pumped the air. 

Oscar looked elated at this question. “It’s Logan. I was there when he did it.” A big smile crossed his face. 

Lance looked around in thought. “Uhhhhh. Lando? I don’t know.” 

Lando also looked happy, as he seemed to know the answer. “It’s Logan right? Yeah, Logan. Final answer.” 

“Are there any geography questions this season, or…” Max drew out the last syllable as he laughed with the others. He suddenly went cold stare. “I’m being serious.” 

“Which driver knows how to moon walk?” 

Fernando squinted his eyes as he thought before shrugging his shoulders. “It’s one of the young ones right? Yuki?” 

Yuki was also as lost as Fernando. “I wish it was me. Maybe Lando? He DJ’s right?” 

“It’s not Lando. But it is a younger driver.” 

“I should know this after she made me play Just Dance for three hours one time. It’s Y/n.” Logan looked put off at his mention of the dance off. 

Oscar also looked bored as he also brought it up. “Yeah, it’s Y/n. I threw Just Dance out after she left. No more.” 

Max rubbed his face. “She plays it with P whenever she comes over. They play the same one over and over again. Y/n.” 

Charles had a far off look, like one of an older man who suddenly was hit with PTSD from war. He whispered, “We don’t mention moonwalk. Not after her and Arthur…” He never finished as he walked off again. 

You had a shit-eating grin on your face. “Me! And I tried to teach it to Oscar, Lando, Logan, Max, Charles, Arthur…” You just seemed to keep going and going. They finally had to stop you before you kept going on about the Just Dance discography. 

Bloopers

You stood in front of the camera with one of the que things that snap. “And action! Do you even say that anymore? And I thought this was an actual set. I might have cried when I saw the green screen.” 

Beep 

The camera showed Max creeping in as you continued listing all of the champions in order. He looked over at the camera like was on the office. “Is she still going?” 

Beep

Logan kept touching his hair and the makeup lady would slap his hands away to fix it. “NASCAR drivers don’t have to go through this. I bet they don’t have to list all the freaking Formula 1 champions in order.” He leaned in and made a gesture. “See. All they have to do is kiss a brick and they get one when they win.” 

Beep 

Oscar smiled as he looked around, honestly excited to get this over with. “I think I’m finally ready for redemption. This should be easy.” 

The camera cut to him after ever he finished filming. “I take it back. That was not easy. You guys really need to find better questions.” 

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[darthfighter]

patience

Chapter Five of Your Shadow Series

warnings: oral (f!receiving), fingering, p in v, lightsaber as a lamp, pure smut.. like.. the whole thing is :D MINORS DNI !!!!!

summary: stuck in a cave waiting out a sandstorm, what’s the worst that can happen?!

word count: 2.3k

authors note: this is my first time publishing smut & i’m a bit nervous.. so here you guys go, as promised !!! hope you enjoy

part four here !

Kissing Qimir never felt enough. As you two meshed together, kissing as one. You wanted to drown in him. In a way, you started to feel yourself suffocate under him. Feeling as though kissing him was starting to drown you. This makes you break the long, choreographed like kiss the two of you shared.

Both of you heave out your lungs from catching each other's breath. Your hands continue to roam his chest, but you begin to reach from under his shirt feeling his soft skin beneath the cloth. Immediately he rips off his shirt but all you can do in this moment is feel, no matter how open your eyes are. It’s still pitch black in the cave you both took cover in while waiting out the sandstorm.

His lips crash against yours like the waves back home. The sounds of your lips smack together repeatedly like waves meeting the shore, growing more hungry. You start to lift your back off from the makeshift bed and lift your shirt off. After it's off, you continue to kiss a bit more after this, but Qimir wants to taste more of you. His lips unattached from yours and move towards your neck. You hum as a reaction and he feels the vibration of it beneath his lips. Qimir makes his way down to your chest. His lips are warm and soft. His bare hands slide their way up your stomach, eventually resting above your bra. Your hands plant themselves above his, and signal him to take it off.

Your bra comes off, and immediately Qimir bolts his lips onto your breasts. You sigh so loud in the air the wind storm beyond the cave can’t cover it. You feel the sensitivity on every inch of you start to grow. Your body grows hot, feeling as if you are directly under the suns.

As Qimir plants kisses and sucks over your chest, you start to reflect. You remind yourself that this is what your life was missing. You were missing these feelings of want and desire. You were missing Qimir. You no longer felt out of place when you were with Qimir. He understood you, you and your wants. In the past, you would shut the feelings you feel now down into your mental vault. Knowing it wasn’t the Jedi way. Now, Qimir opened this vault, and you didn’t want it to close anytime soon.

He starts to shift more down, making his way down your stomach. His hands pull your pants down along with your underwear, and you lift your bottom to help him. You feel your heart squeeze in anticipation so much it hurts just a bit. Qimir starts to caress your bare legs, shifting himself in between you while lowering himself down.

Qimir breathes out heavily, and you feel the cold air hit your core. Your whole body shivers in response and you whine into the air.

With one swift, broad tongue, he licks your cunt.

Your whole body feels a wave of pleasure and overwhelmness. Your hands reach towards Qimir, and you lace your fingers through his hair. The more he massages your folds with his tongue, the more you pull his hair.

His mouth vibrates against your core and your mouth grows slack with pleasure.

You feel yourself throb from underneath him while you squirm, but Qimir’s arms wrap around your legs to hold you in place. He’s eating you, and you're enjoying it. You bite your lip so hard it stings under your teeth. Qimir’s fingers grip onto your skin, leaving imprints you can’t see.

After long sucks and licks, he removes his mouth. You feel the warmth leave you and you immediately huff out your mouth in want.

Qimir starts to tease and make this all last longer by planting soft kisses along the side of you, especially on your thighs. You start to grow impatient and its making you shift. He tightens his grip on you as he presses soft and gentle kisses onto you, and you swear you can feel his smile into the kisses. He’s enjoying driving you crazy for him. You decide to shut down his amusement and tell him what to do. “Do it again, please.” You whine through the force.

He wastes no time, and latches his mouth onto your wet aching cunt.

You moan as loud as you can, uncontrollably. You cover your mouth with your hand, but he reaches towards your forearm and holds it down himself. Making you loud just for him.

When you think of desire, this is what you feel. You feel all the nerves of you a million times more sensitive. One of your main feelings is being treated as you are wanted. He wants to taste you, he wants to touch, and kiss you.

How could you live life without this? How empty would that be?

You suck in your breath and it hitches. You feel overwhelmed. You are over your cliff. The cliff you always feel like you're on around Qimir, but it's different this time. Below the cliff are waves crashing. Your body wants to join the waves, and Qimir senses it.

“Let yourself feel.” He orders in your head.

You start to feel yourself be engulfed by the waves, feeling the powerful ocean come to you. You reach over the edge, and your body shakes under him. You cum on his tongue and he groans in response. Savoring the taste of you.

You begin to gasp in and out, trying to catch your breath. You ache for the come down and your body sends aftershocks. Qimir decides to go easy on you, and removes his mouth from you.

Qimir wastes no time and grabs ahold of your face again to guide himself back onto your lips. Your lips move together and you taste yourself on his lips, and his tongue. The prickles of Qimir’s facial hair rub along your upper lip.

His hair dangles in your face above you, and your hands brush the hair back. Feeling the black strands intertwine with your fingers.

Without saying anything, Qimir rests your hand that was on his head, and guides it down his chest, down his stomach, and finally above his hard imprint in his pants. His grip on your hand tightens as you touch him.

You loved feeling this. This desire. It felt warm and hot. It felt scorching under your touch and inside your chest.

Qimir rests his forehead on yours, as he loses himself into the pleasure you are making him feel. You can even feel the warmth of his panting on your face. You breathe him in.

You start to grow impatient, wanting more. In a way, you’re sitting on the shore. Coming down from your high. You want to feel yourself in the waves again. With that in mind you start to reach upwards onto the waistband of his pants, and tug.

You feel (but can’t see) him shift beneath you knowing it must be him taking his clothes off. With your senses you hear the fabric fall to the floor, then immediately feel the soft but hard skin of his cock beside your thigh.

The tip glides itself in between your folds, feeling slick and hot. You naturally grind yourself into it and move your hips. Then, your eyebrows frown as you hear Qimir groan in annoyance. You stop in fear you are doing something wrong, and he senses it.

“No no- keep doing that.”

And you do. Your hips roll below you and you feel yourself get closer to the waves. Although Qimir’s annoyed groans only continue, and he acknowledges it. “Fuck. I can’t-” he puffs above you, heaving his chest in and out “I can’t see you.” and without a second to waste, you feel the force fill the air. Next thing you know the cave is illuminated red from Qimir’s lightsaber.

He wanted to see you ride his dick so much that he force pulled his own weapon, and turned it on to see you. The vibration of the saber resembled the way you felt inside, quivering and hot.

Finally after only being able to feel, now you get to see. Qimir’s eyebrows frowned in concentration, his eyes scanned your entire bare body before him, his broad shoulders, his arm holding out the lightsaber above you, his toned stomach doing small paces to rub himself onto you, and his huge thighs in between you. You blushed so hard that your eyes started to water from your blood pressure rising.

You started to feel impatient. You ached for him to be inside you. Your hand reaches towards his cock, and you align it with your entrance.

“H-hold on. I haven’t warmed you up enough.”

The sandstorm beside you both can’t even cover your next words with how loud you yelled. “What?!” you blared between you two.

With Qimir’s free hand, he strokes your folds with his fingers delicately. He knows he doesn’t wanna say these words out loud, because he knows he needs to say this in a deep, condescending tone that he won’t execute out loud. “Did The Jedi not teach you patience?”

You clutch your fist in frustration, but especially arousal. He was teasing you.

His lustful eyes leave yours and sets them on your pussy. His mouth forms an O shape from how wet you were for him. He didn’t even need to use spit anymore. With how slick you were for him, he gently pushes a finger inside you.

You inhale sharply and feel yourself in a different way, and start to know yourself in a new way as well. You’ve never felt this amount of desire in your whole life. Sure, you had your moments, but you never gave into them this far. Qimir made you feel more than you knew was physically possible.

Then, you moan the dirtiest and loudest moan as his finger curls onto your soft g-spot. Your body launches forward from the pleasure causing Qimir to softly curse.

“Fuck.” He lifts his saber higher to bring it farther away from you. With this action, it brings him satisfaction to know he’s making you feel this strongly and it brings a smile to his face. A smile on his lips as his eyes study your body below him. Your body is red and aching.

The more Qimir fingers you, the more you feel the waves get closer. You can feel the wind of them brushing against your skin. It starts to bring goosebumps onto your flesh, and Qimir can see it. This makes him add another finger inside you and repeat his action.

You become so overwhelmed that grab ahold of his hand below you. Though you just rest it on top of him and he waits for you to pull him away, but it never comes. Qimir continues to pump his digits in and out of you and bites his lip as you unravel around him.

The waves are closer, your skin is feeling the sprinkles of the powerful waves before you. You’re close. You can practically walk and enter the ocean— but not like this.

Your hand pulls his wrist and he immediately stops. You open your tight shut eyes and see Qimir’s expression reading concern, you can even read his lips faintly saying “You okay?”

You nod your head with your hair damp from sweat. Your shaking hand reaches towards his cheek, and you speak to him through the force once again “I wanna let go around you.” You immediately feel Qimir’s cock twitch beside your thigh.

Surprisingly he is still holding up his lightsaber ahead of you. Clearly meaning he wants to see you, every part of you, and every moment. His hair dangles in front of his face as he lowers his head down to align himself with your entrance.

Slowly, and as gently as he can, he pushes himself into you. Your whole body grows tense in anticipation waiting for all of him. You look up to him seeing his adam’s apple bob in pleasure.

For a bit, Qimir repeatedly inches his way in and out of you. Trying his best not to overwhelm you. When the time comes when he’s all the way in, he rests it inside you. You look up to him, with red highlighting every pore on him, you see his face. Although you are so focused on the insane amount of desire you feel, you don’t comprehend what’s in his mind.

In his mind, he’s blown away on what he has before him. He has the one he’s been searching for inside of him, wrapped around his cock. You don’t realize it yet, but you have him wrapped around you too, around your finger.

Qimir still holding his lightsaber up, he starts to pump repeatedly, slowly. With his free hand its caressing your thighs beneath him. Roaming your legs like he’s trying to personally heat up his hand from your touch. You croak out moans into the cave. When Qimir finally reaches a pace he is satisfied with, and you as well, he rests his hand above your pubic bone, and lowers his thumb onto your swollen clit giving it the attention you need.

The waves are beneath your feet, slowly but surely reaching you. You can feel the powerful waves flow through your body. From your clit, up your stomach, your sensitive breasts, heaving chest, marked neck, and moaning mouth. This all repeats.

It repeats until you are close. You look into Qimir’s eyes, and he reads them. He knows you, knows you well enough to know what your eyes are trying to say.

Instead of speeding up his pace, he keeps it. Knowing this feels best for you. The sandstorm can’t even cover his moans escaping his lips.

The waves crash a second time. Feeling more powerful than the first. Your walls tighten around him and you can feel yourself throb around his cock. The waves grow slower, and you come down. Qimir slides out of you, and you immediately feel empty.

His saber turns off, and the cave is pitch black once more. Though, this time instead of being alone in the darkness. Qimir rests beside you and holds you, drowning into your ocean.

chapter six here !