#imagine if the sub unit are like this

[kachowden]

𝙸 𝙻𝚘𝚟𝚎 𝙷𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚢

| Hockey TeamVarious x Reader

Солнышко (Little Sun)

Yandere x reader (Part 1?)

—————————————————————————

An idea I have had for a while now.

So imagine yourself on a team. Except you’re not a player, no.

Actually..you’re technically not on the team because you’re one of a few people who rotates your position. You’re the mascot.

The beloved silly mascot of your team. The logo, the literal image of your hockey team. And you’re damn good too!

You get the crowds roaring, positively pumped-up for the game! And whether your team wins or loses, the highlights are always the silly little mascot who throws popcorn into the crowd or tosses shirts at unsuspecting families.

From time to time during the game you’d make your way onto the ice. Play fight with the team, steal a puck, steal a stick. Toss them to a crowd member. It was always in good fun, and the audience loved it!

And you weren’t just beloved by the fans, oh no no no, you were beloved by the team too.

So much so that at some point, the demand for your specific “mascotting” was so great, the other workers had to find a new career path. Damn shame too, you happened to like them quite a bit. But extra pay right? And it’s hard to deny how flattering it is being the fan favorite.

Of course it didn’t even cross your mind to question these circumstances, nor did you think to question the sudden increasing interactions you had with the team. Publicity, you assumed.

From number 47 dragging you onto the ice for some impromptu lessons. Still in costume might I add. Mid Play.

To number 13 laughing joyfully as he shoved you into the locker room after an intense game, and offered to wash your back for spending so long in such a sweaty suit. You denied him of course, the locker rooms weren’t meant for you! Duh.

You didn’t even question when number 1, the captain and goalie of the team, braced you against a barrier during half time, when your mask had precariously been knocked off by a rowdy fan. Nor did you see the viscous scowls directed at said fan. It was probably just keep your identity safe after all.

The score was 7 to 0 that game, in favour of your team. You weren’t sure what had pumped them up so much but whatever works right?

Course, you did get a puck to the cheek at one point and had to sub out for a bit. The players were non too happy when they discovered a different worker under your special suit. They were in a bad mood for the remainder of the game.

Number 19, who had a pension for bad behavior on the ice, sought you out specifically after the game too.

———-47—————19————1—————13———-

Your shoulders sagged tiredly against the cool wall of the changing room, blessing the AC that pumped through the units. Your jersey stuck sweatily to your skin, and you gasped with a dry mouth before a gloved hand appeared in your vision, a water bottle covered in condensation presented before you like a holy grail.

“You look like shit.” A scratchy voice scolds lightly by your ear, your eyes fluttering to glance at the rugged features of one of the team players settled besides your face, wedged deep into your personal space. The scent of sweat and body spray (axe probably) wafts into your nostrils, causing your nose to scrunch instinctively before you give a lopsided smile.

“Hey Donovan, s’nice to see you. How’s the play been?” You gratefully take the cold bottle from his grasp, finger tips grazing the rough and warm texture of his gloves before meeting the cool plastic of the team merchandise bottle. Your little mascot stared back at you in a 2D style.

“Shitty. You’re supposed to be out there, not some random loser who can’t even get the crowd excited right. Now the teams pissed and it’s your fault.” His words end in a sneer, despite the attentive way his eyes are raking across your figure for injury beyond the welt on your cheek bone. His body near touches yours and causes another wave of sweat to seep into your skin.

With a thoughtful hum and a sip of refreshing water you push yourself from the locker, stepping into the more open air and cooling yourself off, while dark brown eyes watch you beneath a furrowed, displeased brow.

“Your guys’s concern flatters me. It’s nice having such thoughtful co-workers.” Your lips smile thoughtfully, glancing at him from your shoulder.

He looks incredulous, which somehow lands on being the least aggressive expression you’ve ever seen on him.

“Co-workers?” He echoes, like the word is the most foul tasting thing that’s ever touched his tongue. “We’re teammates. Not co-workers.”

You wave your hand dismissively, back turned and unaware of the tall figure that approaches your bubble again from behind. “Well, you and the guys definitely are. Maybe even the ice scrapers, though I’d argue they’re in the same realm as me to be honest. More staff than anything yknow?” Your tone is light, you know what your position is. And of course you’re grateful to be the main mascot, but you’re aware of your replacements that stand idle at the food stands, handing out popcorn between half times.

“I mean I’m just the person in the suit, anyone could play that part. I just hope I could train the next guy that signs up for the position, gotta make sure they do my legacy justice right-“

Big hands, no longer covered by scratchy material grip into your hips, swallowing the skin in raw heat and tugging you backwards. Your feet stumble and trip for less then a second before you’ve collided into a broad chest. The feeling of a hot breath condenses on the back of your neck, covering up your barely escaped laugh and choke.

Hair tickles the side of your forehead, as Donovan leans over your shoulder. His eyes set forward to the opposing wall lockers just like your own, his thumbs rubbing thoughtless shapes into your skin. He exhales, like he’s just spent the last four hours dealing with an ill tempered toddler that he’s finally reached his wits end with.

“You’re stupid.”

Your lips part in offense, ready to defend your intelligence before you’re prematurely silenced by a new hand that joins the mass of limbs, and rests gently across your dry lips.

“Let him finish, Солнышко.”(Solnishko)*

A thick accent reverberates into your ears, your eyes darting up to meet pale blue ones that gaze back at you so sternly. White teeth peer past his lips in what was probably a smile, but looked like a show of dominance with the way his canines sunk into the bottom of his lip.

“Don’t you have a team to manage, Cap?” Donovan snarls, teeth bared with displeasure at his private time with you being interrupted. With his arms circling more around your figure in a loose version of a back hug. You stay trapped between the two behemoths that cease every noise and shift of your joints with careful hands.

Carlson smiles, a thoughtful one that softens at you, his eyes never leaving yours now that he has your full attention, something that raises Donovan’s ire significantly. “I heard our little mascot wasn’t doing to well. I wanted to check up on them. I may have heard your little conversation as well.”

The word “little” always manages to filter into Carlsons sentences. And while one could blame it on English only being his second language, his reputation for being the teams most well spoken member speaks volumes otherwise. No, the real reason would have to be the sheer height he holds above all others. The authority he possesses that seeps into the rink and every room he walks into.

It’s not a simple slip of the tongue. It’s a reminder. That he is above every one he meets. He is the captain, and what he says is absolute.

Even the way he gazes down at you screams this thought, bullying its way into your skull as your brain refuses to acknowledge the sheer possessive, demeaning energy that seeps from his figure into yours, despite the alarm bells it rings through your system.

“It breaks my heart, Солнышко. You should know better.” His thumb curves along your jaw, thoughtful again, and practiced, engulfing your entire chin in what could be a crushing grip. But it isn’t, and it never will be. Not to you anyway. “Have we not shown you how much we adore your support in the rink? Have we been too dismissive of you?” He continues, though the mocking edge is nearly unnoticeable.

Donovan’s breath huffs into the shell of your ear, his figure hunched over you like a protective cloak, eyes still staring daggers at the taller man. “You think the team can we wait for us to…help remind our dear mascot how much we care about them?”

There’s a thoughtful hum, eye contact still unbroken through each word. “I’m sure they’ll be mad they didn’t get to join…but their forms were lacking today. They could use the extra practice.”

Carlson leaned forward, sky like eyes darkening like the sea as his nose hovers mere breathes from your own. “And I’ve heard that teaching in…more intimate settings, can lead to greater success in many fields..”

.

.

.

.

.

“Again.”

“I will not think lowly of my position on the team, I will not think of myself as replaceable, because I am the best-“

“Fucking.”

“….the best fucking mascot in the world. I am irreplaceable. I am the best.”

“Very good. Again.”

“It’s been 30 minutes!”

“Well last time we did 15 and that still wasn’t enough, so now we must double our efforts, Солнышко. Again.”

“Afterwards I’ll buy you one of those pretzels you like. If you want, I guess.”

“…….yeah okay.”

[adhdvane]

this is way funnier to me than it should be

[jrreigns]

Summer Heat

It’s the middle of the night and it’s hot. Levi can’t get the thought of you bouncing on his cock out of his mind.

CW: Levi x fem!reader, needy!Levi, pwp (?), established relationship, edging, masturbation, sub!Levi, bottom!Levi.

A/N: Sorry, I love soft, subby Levi. Also, I thought fall weather was finally here and today the humidity has returned T_T. It feels like summer again. 1.2k~ words of smut.

Also, anyone else like turning on the AC so that it’s so cold you can use a blanket to sleep?

Credit to @cafekitsune for the dividers!

There was a certain restlessness that plagued Levi tonight. 

He couldn’t tell if it was the humidity that lingered in your small room or if it was the blaring sight of the numbers on the clock on your nightstand. You grew cold so quickly as soon as he turned on the air conditioner, so he refrained from turning it on too often in the middle of the night, much to his dismay. The blanket that covered the both of you only made things stuffier, but again he complied only because it was you.

Humidity or it was the glimpse he caught of your sleeping form beneath the covers, legs appearing divine beneath the soft fabric of an oversized t-shirt, the hem of it hiked up and underwear on full display.

It wasn’t anything particularly sexy, but given that you and Levi have only up until recently embarked on the more sexual side of your relationship, it had him sweating profusely. Levi willed the thoughts away, but ever since you’ve sheathed yourself on his cock for the first time, he couldn’t help but want you anywhere and everywhere.

He looked at your face, snoring softly, lips slight agape.

The things your mouth has done to him.

It was fascinating just how quickly that mouth has worked him up. It didn’t make more than the sight of you right now to have his cock twitching and aching, begging to be touched. 

He scoffed at himself.

He was acting undisciplined and impulsive. He hated it. So needy, so ferociously and passionately needy.

Levi tossed and turned, before finally giving up; embarrassment and shame settling momentarily in his bones, before he finally let desperation win. He didn’t want to bother you, he couldn’t bother you, especially not at this ungodly hour.

Past the hem of his pants, the waistband of his boxers, he finally gripped his leaking semi-hard cock, breath hitching as he did. 

It was hot, too hot, as he languidly pumped, the humidity of your apartment creating a sheen of sweat to form beneath the wisps of his bangs. He hated it, it felt disgustingly humid, and yet the image of your lips around his cock, the image of you on top of him, forced him to push through. He imagined your soft praises, your god yes and your breathy huffs of just like that. 

Levi bit his bottom lip, focusing hard on your soft snoring, about to cum when he forced his hand to stop, right at the edge to prolong the feeling. Yes, you would be proud, eyes filled with admiration that he still fought hard to get accustomed to. He let out a soft sigh as he wounded and unwounded himself.

One hand comes to desperately shove his sweatpants and briefs down, only enough for his cock to spring free. His other hand comes to find the remote to your AC unit, turning it on so that the humming can disguise some of the throaty sounds that escaped him.

Frustration nibbled at him as he desperately tried to mimic your fingers, the way they wrapped themselves around his length, but it was hopeless. His calloused hands were no match for your soft ones, fingers that delicately wrapped themselves around him, rubbing over the head and down, covering his cock with his own pre-cum. He gritted his teeth at the image.

A low whimper emanates from deep inside him, and for a moment, only for a moment, he allows himself the pleasure of it, a low groan of your name slipping out of him. He edges himself forward, almost there, oh, a-almost there. His hand speeds up, imagining you bouncing on him, the way your hips shifted atop him, forwards and back, using his dick to get to your own climax. So good.

He can feel the cum pooling deep in his balls, wanting to so desperately shoot out and stain your pristine sheets, sheets he helped wash up since the last time he made a mess. Breathy pants give away just how close he is to the precipice, and right as he’s about to urge himself forward, to cum and cum hard, he focuses on the sound of your soft snoring.

The sound is absent.

Despite the sweatiness, Levi could feel that the room has reached a cooler temperature now. It’s enough to clear the pleasure-stricken haze of his mind. You were probably still sleeping, right, you had to be.

He doesn’t need to turn to know you’re awake, he already knows, and the hand that meets his shoulder confirms the thought. You shuffle, bringing your lips to his ear, breathy whispers that send a shiver down his spine.

“What are you doing baby?”

He was going to mumble some kind of excuse, an apology for his lack of self-control, but you move quickly, pulling the covers away from him, goosebumps forming on his skin as you exposed him. The sight must’ve truly been sickening, he thought, tip of his cock pink and leaking, the hem of his pants halfway down his thighs, half of his ass bare on your white sheets, face red. There’s no lie that could possibly explain this.

Levi’s confused when he finds need in your eyes. Instead of ridiculing him, you hum and your face breaks out into a smirk.

“If you wanted to be touched, you should’ve just asked.”

I didn’t want to bother you, he wants to say. We’ve been doing it all week, how needy can I get?

Your fingers come to graze the tip of his length and softly moves lower, Levi lets out a groan.

It’s enough to trigger a spasm between your legs, it’s enough for an ache to develop in your lower belly.

You move quickly to straddle him, moving your panties to the side, just enough to let him slip inside.

“W-wait,” he beings, crying out your name as you notch his dick against your wetness, the consequences of edging himself finally on the verge of discovery as his cock twitched against you. Your hands met the hardness of his abdomen as the first ring of your tightness surrounds his thick length.

“You want me to wait after hearing you say my name like that,” you say breathlessly, sinking lower, a moan of his name coming from your parted lips. Levi’s head falls back against the pillow, orgasm looming and threatening to spill.

“Don’t worry—ah—I’ll make it all better, Levi. Oh—your cock feels so good inside me,” you tell him as you cover him completely, your pussy smothering all of him, wetness feeling so good for him.

“It’s all inside,” you say breathlessly, and you slide up and down once, twice, three times.

It’s too good, too good, too good.

Tears slip down Levi’s cheeks as he cums, jaw clenched as he grits your name through his teeth. Your eyes widen as you feel his silky warmth shoot inside you, but you don’t stop moving as he does, watching as his face contorts in pleasure, content, before he’s overstimulated, brows furrowing and nose scrunching.

You fight through the ache and stop moving, leaning down to look at him.

You smirk as he finally opens his eyes, blue-gray eyes looking at you.

“What am I going to do with you,” you ask him playfully, hand coming to caress his cheek. He sighs contently.

Love me, he thinks, but he doesn’t voice it at all. He knows you already do.

[reasonsforhope]

"Namibia is the driest country in Sub-Saharan Africa, and home to two of the world’s most ancient deserts, the Kalahari and the Namib. The capital, Windhoek, is sandwiched between them, 400 miles away from the nearest perennial river and more than 300 miles away from the coast. Water is in short supply.

It’s hard to imagine life thriving in Windhoek, yet 477,000 people call it home, and 99 per cent of them have access to drinking water thanks to technology pioneered 55 years ago on the outskirts of the city. Now, some of the world’s biggest cities are embracing this technology as they adapt to the harshest impacts of climate change. But Namibia leads the way.

How did this come about? In the 1950s, Windhoek’s natural resources struggled to cope with a rapidly growing population, and severe water shortages gripped the city. But disaster forced innovation, and in 1968 the Goreangab Water Reclamation Plant in Windhoek became the first place in the world to produce drinking water directly from sewage, a process known as direct potable reuse (DPR). 

That may sound revolting, but it’s completely safe. Dr Lucas van Vuuren, who was among those who pioneered Windhoek’s reclamation system, once said that “water should not be judged by its history, but by its quality”. And DPR ensures quality. 

This is done using a continuous multi-barrier treatment devised in Windhoek during eight years of pilot studies in the 1960s. This process – which has been upgraded four times since 1968 – eliminates pollutants and safeguards against pathogens by harnessing bacteria to digest the human waste and remove it from the water. This partly mimics what happens when water is recycled in nature, but Windhoek does it all in under 24 hours...

Pictured: These ultrafiltration membranes help to remove bacteria, viruses and pathogens. Image: Margaret Courtney-Clarke

“We know that we have antibiotics in the water, preservatives from cosmetics, anti-corrosion prevention chemicals from the dishwasher,” Honer explains. “We find them and we remove them.”

Honer adds that online instruments monitor the water continuously, and staff ensure that only drinking water that meets World Health Organisation (WHO) guidelines is sent to homes. If any inconsistencies are detected, the plant goes into recycle mode and distribution is halted until correct values are restored. 

“The most important rule is, and was, and always will be ‘safety first’,” says Honer.  The facility has never been linked to an outbreak of waterborne disease, and now produces up to 5.5m gallons of drinking water every day – up to 35 per cent of the city’s consumption.

Namibians couldn’t survive without it, and as water shortages grip the planet, Windhoek’s insights and experience are more important than ever.

Interest from superpowers across the globe

In recent years, delegations from the US, France, Germany, India, Australia, Singapore, and the United Arab Emirates have visited Windhoek seeking solutions to water shortages in their own countries. 

Megadrought conditions have gripped the US since 2001, and the Colorado River – which provides 40 million people with drinking water – has been running at just 50 per cent of its traditional flow. As a result, several states including Texas, California, Arizona and Colorado are beginning to embrace DPR.

Troy Walker is a water reuse practice leader at Hazen and Sawyer, an environmental engineering firm helping Arizona to develop its DPR regulations. He visited Windhoek last year. “It was about being able to see the success of their system, and then looking at some of the technical details and how that might look in a US facility or an Australian facility,” he said. “[Windhoek] has helped drive a lot of discussion in industry. [Innovation] doesn’t all have to come out of California or Texas.”

Pictured: The internal pipes and workings of Namibia's DPR plant. As water becomes scarcer in some parts, countries are looking to DPR for solutions. Image: Margaret Courtney-Clarke

Namibia has also helped overcome the biggest obstacle to DPR – public acceptance. Disgust is a powerful emotion, and sensationalist ‘toilet to tap’ headlines have dismantled support for water reuse projects in the past. Unfortunately, DPR’s biggest strength is also its biggest weakness, as the speed at which water can re-enter the system makes it especially vulnerable to prejudice, causing regulators to hesitate. “Technology has never been the reason why these projects don’t get built – it’s always public or political opposition,” says Patsy Tennyson, vice president of Katz and Associates, an American firm that specialises in public outreach and communications.

That’s why just a handful of facilities worldwide are currently doing DPR, with Windhoek standing alongside smaller schemes in the Philippines, South Africa and a hybrid facility in Big Spring, Texas. But that’s all changing. Drought and increased water scarcity worldwide are forcing us to change the way we think about water. 

Now, the US is ready to take the plunge, and in 2025, El Paso Water will begin operating the first ‘direct to distribution’ DPR facility in North America, turning up to 10m gallons of wasterwater per day into purified drinking water – twice as much as Windhoek. San Diego, Los Angeles, California, as well as Phoenix, Arizona are also exploring the technology."

Of course, DPR is not a silver bullet in the fight against climate change. It cannot create water out of thin air, and it will not facilitate endless growth. But it does help cities become more climate resilient by reducing their reliance on natural sources, such as the Colorado River. 

As other nations follow in Namibia’s footsteps, Windhoek may no longer take the lead after almost six decades in front.

“But Windhoek was the first,” Honer reminds me. “No one can take that away.”"

-via Positive.News, August 30, 2023

[soobinologisttt]

playing with fire - yang jungwon

pairing ☆ jungwon x f. reader

warnings ☆ dom!jungwon, (im a sucker for doms), sub!reader, cunnilingus, cheating (reader and reader's exbf), in exbf's bed (lolol), praise (!!!), jungwon is a sweetheart, ft. ryujin of itzy and jaemin of nct

word count ☆ 4k

a/n: summer break !!! i can finally post more :) i am taking summer courses which sucks tho :(

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

usually, you love a good party. the drinks, the way drunk girls unite while in line for the bathroom. it became one of your favorite things about college.

but it wasn't always this way.

during your first year, you absolutely despised parties. opting out to curl up with a good book or tv show.

it was your second year when you found your love for parties.

your roommates begged you to go to a "beginning of the school year" party. then they dressed you like you were their doll.

3 shots later, you were all ready to go. (you wanted to pregame in fear of getting spiked at the party)

when you saw yourself in the mirror, you could not see the nerdy girl underneath.

short black skirt, tight white corset, boots that gave you at least two inches of height, and smoky makeup up with lashes.

your breast sat pretty, your ass was basically out, and your hair was straightened. straying away from the normal curls.

this was way out of your comfort zone but you liked it. feeling, for once in your life, hot.

of course, once you were actually at the party the confidence you had dissipated. you felt self-conscious, as you stood in the corner of the room.

you watched as people danced with friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, sneaky links. seeing them dance so openly and freely made you feel like an imposter.

you looked down into your red cup full of sprite. it wasn't even halfway finished.

you frowned as you looked back up. scanning the room for your roomates, you saw them having a good time.

sipping drinks and flirting with a group of guys that you've never seen.

that's when a pair of eyes found yours.

your eyes met his dark eyes and you felt your heart flutter.

your eyes dart to the floor in a panic as your cheeks heated up.

you never had gotten attention from boys, especially guys that were as hot as him.

he was tall, a good 5'10, lean, pretty face, dark eyes, jet black hair that looked soft to the touch and full lips that curve up into a cupids bow.

you could only imagine how they would feel.

you pulled yourself out of your thoughts and raced to pull out your phone.

focusing intently on your phone, you pull up your shared groupchat and start to type.

you only got to third word when you saw a body enter your eye sight.

you looked up to see who it is and it's the guy that was staring at you.

your heart was beating out of your chest. you've only ever read about guys this beautiful. but now you were in the presence of one.

you were awestruck like you just saw god.

he was dressed in the most basic fit, a backwards hat, a white tee, black adidias pants with stripes, and a white pair of adidas.

"hey, i've never seen you hear before." he gave you the most gut churning smile.

his long dimples catched your eyes like a moth to a flame.

"yeah, my roommate dragged me here and then disappeared." you bit your bottom lip.

"well, i can keep you company for the time being," he took your empty hand into his, leading you to the kitchen.

"what are we doing?" you question as you see where he is leading you.

"to get a drink." he smiled.

"what's your name?" you asked as he pulls you along.

"i'm na jaemin," he smirked.

that's when you knew you were in deep shit.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

now, your stood across the room from him just like how it started. glaring at him as if you were a hunter stalking its prey.

you know he feels your gaze. choosing to ignore it instead for some girl. the girl being one of your ex-roommates. the same one that brought you to a party in the first place.

you weren't surprised at this revelation. you knew she was known for being a homewrecker.

even going as far as sleeping with a professor. leading to his divorce with his wife.

so when you found the sext's between your boyfriend and ex-roommate, you didn't even flinch. she's known for this.

but, jaemin doesn't know that you know. all day you've been going around like everything is okay between you two.

just like is started, you plan to end it that way too.

he wants to play, you can play too.

while dressing up, you made sure to put on something that would turn heads.

dressing yourself in a tiny black skirt, red corset, and your favorite black heeled boots.

wearing the most dramatic makeup, a smokey red look with eyeliner that could cut.

nevertheless he doesn't even give you a second look. instead his focus is on the girl in front of him. looking her up and down while smirking.

you feel your face get hot, the anger has you crushing the red cup in your hand. nearing spilling all of you're sprite and vodka.

your hands releases before anything can spill.

instead you take a big gulp, nearly draining your cup.

you continue watching as the alcohol runs down, basking in the feeling of the warm substance reaching your stomach.

the feeling calms you. taking your mind away from the breaking heart in your chest.

you close your eyes and take a deep breath. containing the tears that you've been holding back.

when you open your eyes, you see him flashing his gummy smile at the women in front of him.

you are so over it. you are so ready to go over there and talk your shit.

not only to him, but to her too.

just as you were getting ready to stalk towards them, you feel a pair of hands on your waist.

you yelp as you jump to turn around.

"oh i didn't mean to scare you," your best friend, ryujin apologizes.

"it's okay," you turn back around as you feel your eyes start to water.

she quickly follows your gaze to where your almost ex-boyfriend is flirting with your ex-roommate.

she knows everything. as soon as your found out, she was there. threatening to cut his dick off and shove it down his throat.

at the time that made you laugh, but now it makes you want to cry. you wish she could do it without getting charged, but unfortunately that is frowned upon.

you put your head down to shield the forming tears from your best friend.

"forget about him," she makes her way to your front.

"i am trying," you pull your head up to look her in the eyes.

her hands make their way to your shoulders, shaking you lightly.

when you see her soften smile, you nearly break down.

"we are going to dance." she pulls you into a hug before pulling back and grabbing your wrist.

you hurry to gulp down your drink as she pulls you along.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

you end up between ryujin and a random guy.

your back is to him as you scan the room to find your cheating boyfriend.

you didn't realize how close you were until he leans over you and whispers into your ear.

"what are you looking at?" he follows your eyes to were you have been looking, "you've been staring over there all night."

you roll your eyes, "my boyfriend is cheating on me with my ex roommate."

you turn around to face him, faced with on of the most beautiful boys you have ever seen.

you thought the same about jaemin, but this guy topped him by a lot.

as tall (maybe taller) than jaemin, wide cat light eyes, that gleam a

you couldn't help but notice how pretty his eyes are. a dark chocolate color that has you buckling at the knees just looking at them.

you immediately freeze, face turning red for the second time tonight.

"i'm sorry for throwing that all on you,"

"no, it's okay. i'm jungwon," he greets you.

that name sounds so familiar but you can't put your finger on it. you crinkle your face as you attempt to recall.

"jungwon... i know that name from somewhere,"

"we had a project together last year. over the pros of solar power." he tilts his head slightly and smiles, his dimple on full display.

his smile caused the butterfiles to unleash from their cage in your chest. you attempt to lock them back up, but instead they make their way down to your cunt.

you slightly rub your thighs together as you feel your underwear dampen.

"oh yeah," you smile back.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

during the night, you dance with ryujin and jungwon. even going as far as to grind on the both of them.

hoping to get a reaction for your cheating boyfriend but instead getting the attention of his friends. glaring at you like you were in the wrong.

you couldn't care less, flipping them off multiple times as you grind your ass on the two people surrounding you.

as the night goes on you start to forget about jaemin. enjoying your time with jungwon and ryunjin, laughing and dancing to the music.

sometime around 1am, ryujin excuses you and her to go to the bathroom.

while standing in line you catch a glimpse of jaemin leaving his room with your ex-roommate, attempting to hide her behind him.

"where have you been all night?" he questions accusingly, as the girl sneaks past you both.

"i don't know, where have you been all night?" you scolf, crossing your arms.

"looking for you," he rolls his eyes.

"i was so easy to spot, ask your friends," you smirk, "or maybe ask your little fuck buddy," you nearly laugh.

"what?" jaemin squints his eyes are he plays dumb.

"oh you thought you were being sneaky?" you laugh this time, "might want to tell her that, she has been eyeing me the whole night. i think she wants me next. too bad i don't want your sloppy seconds." you wink.

you watch as his face turns a deep red. making you want to laugh even more. as he opens his mouth to respond, you hear the bathroom door open.

it is your turn for the bathroom.

"come on y/n," ryujin pulls you into the bathroom with her before you could finish going off on him.

"thank you," you hug her.

you probably would of pushed him down the flight of stairs next to you guys if she didn't pull you into the bathroom.

"no problem," she smiles at you as she pulls back.

after you both pee, you decide to go to check jaemin's room. sepecting that they were fucking while you were dancing.

you know that is it going to hurt you but you just need to prove it. your noisy personailty getting ahold of you.

when you both exit the bathroom, you top her. stepping off the side so the line can keep going.

"you can go down first," you tell her, "i have something i have to do." you nod to the room jaemin and his mistress came out of.

"okay, call me if you need me," she smiles, "the offer still stands, i can cut it off and stick it down her month instead."

you shake your head with a chuckle.

"i need you out of jail, who else is gonna threaten people for me."

she rolls her eyes, "fine, well text me. i'll be downstairs."

you give her a tiny nod before turning to walk down the dark hall.

when you get closer to jaemin's room, you see jungwon enter it.

you feel your stomach flip.

"why is he in there?" you question.

you conutine to stalk towards the room and with one step at a time, you feel your heart drop.

by the time you open the door, your heart is in your stomach.

the light on jaemin's desk is the only light on in the room. casting a orangish yellow color within the room.

"what are you doing in here?" you ask the boy that is leaning on jaemin's desk. the very same desk that you do homework on. or atleast did.

you shake the thought out of your head.

"waiting for you," jungwon smiles.

"how did you know i was.... you know what nevermind, you can you help?"

"sure, what do you need me to do?"

you look down at your shoes that are killing your feet.

"i'm looking for anything that proves that they were.. having sex." you wince at the heartbreaking thought.

he quickly moves to look around the bed as you rummage through jaemin's drawers.

knowing him, you thought he would hide it somewhere.

just like how he hide his secret side piece.

"like this?"

you turn around in a flash and to see jungwon holding the evidence.

a ripped condom packet.

you feel the tears form.

"fuck." you quickly wipe the few tears that are rolling down your cheeks.

he looks at you with pure eyes. watching as you wipe your tears.

he starts to walk towards you, "y/n, you know that he -"

he stops as you dash to the bathroom, feeling bile rise from your stomach.

you dry heave into the trash, only to find the final conformation that he indeed slept with her.

the condom, lazily tied and tossed for the world to see.

you feel your world crash down around you. you back up to the wall behind you. sliding down it as the tears slide down your face.

"he doesn't deserve you, y/n." jungwon sits down next to you.

"i know, jungwon. but it still hurts," you pull your knees to your chest and put your head on them.

jungwon takes this chance to move in front of you. pulling your head up to look into your eyes.

his brown eyes matching his dark brown hair, both glimmering in the bathroom light.

"can i take your mind off of it?" he wipes your tears.

"how?" you search his eyes for a clue to why he is being so nice to you.

"like this," he leans foward and smashes his lips onto yours.

you kiss back, feeling his warm lips against yours. not in lust but in want, need, yearning.

placing his hands on your cheeks he pulls you into a deeper kiss.

he pushes his tongue lightly against your lips. asking for entrance. you slightly part your lips and he pushes his tongue in.

he tastes like cranberry, probably from the cranberry vodka he was drinking.

you moan at the taste, sending a shock to your now aching cunt.

you took this time to push your tongue into his mouth, exploring it, memorizing, and craving more of it.

you don't even know how long you have been kissing when he pulls back.

you could care less as he rest his forehead on yours.

"fuck, you have no idea how long i've wanted to do that." his dimples reval themselves as he smiles..

"really?" you look down at your shoes.

"yes," brings his pointer fingers to your chin and lifts up your head.

"jungwon?" you question as your eyes flicker from one eye to the other.

"yes gorgeous?"

"can we get off the floor? my heels are hurting my feet." you chuckle.

"oh yeah," he moves quickly to get up.

once he is on his two feet, he holds out his hand to help you up.

thinking that he is just gonna help you up, you take it. but instead you end up around him.

legs circling him and arms incasing his neck.

your faces are inches apart when he utters.

"is this okay?" jungwon asks, pulling his face back a little to watch you answer.

you feel youself blush at the way his breath tickled your lips.

"yes, this is okay." you smile up at him.

he takes this as a okay to walk you out of thr bathroom. sitting you on jaemin's desk, he quickly makes his way to look the door.

"if you want to stop at any time, tell me okay?" he states as he takes big strides towards you.

you nod with a little smile. already feeling a little daze from the way he is talking to you.

"baby, use your words. i need to know that you understand," he reaches you and pulls you to the edge of the desk. pulling you closer to him.

"i understand jungwon," as soon as the words left your mouth, he lunges at your neck. soft lips leaving a trail of soft kissed and love bites.

"atta girl." jungwon praises you.

you feel the ache between your thighs worsen as he speaks.

"if i was your man, i would treat you better." he mutters on your neck.

"jungwon," you moan as he places one hand on your waist and the other on your left tit. pulling roughly on your corset, letting your breasts out of the tight garment.

"you like that? my hands all over you in his bedroom?" jungwon teases.

"mhm, i like it so much," you throw your head back in bliss.

his fingers pinch and squeezes your nipple making you jump and whimper.

"fuck y/n, you're so amazing." he grunts.

you close your thighs around jungwon, core aching in need as he continues talking.

"i would make you so happy y/n," jungwon starts, "baby, you would never feel the way he makes you feel,"

he brings his hand down from your tit to your clit. outlining the little bead as you arch into his hand.

you throw you head back, making it easier for him to have access to your neck.

he sucks roughly at your soft spot.

between the feeling of his lips on you and the noises that are filling the room, you could no longer hold back.

"fuck, jungwon." you moan loudly.

"you're so perfect y/n." he groans.

your fingers claw at his clothed back, wanting more.

"can i leave a mark?" he asks against your neck.

you nod as he starts to suck and nip at your skin savagely.

the sensation of his lips against your neck and his fingers circling you clit but not touching, you feel like you were going to combust of need.

"jungwon," you try to move your neck.

but, he doesn't let you move instead he places the hand from you waist on the back of your neck.

"please, please," you grind into his finger, finally getting it to touch your clit.

you roll your eyes in pleassure.

"what do you need baby?" he mumbles against your neck.

"i need you."

he pulls back and brings his hand from your clit to your chin. admirring his work before looking into your eyes.

"are you sure?" his bright brown eyes look at your wereily.

"please, i really want this," you smash your lips onto his.

you feel his arms embrace you before picking you up and making way to jaemin's bed.

you know this is wrong but you couldn't care less. jaemin cheated on you... and you want this.

jungwon lays you on your back on the edge of jaemin's bed.

"god, you're so gorgeous," he pulls back to look at you.

you blush and shy away, turning your head.

he pulls your head back to look at him.

"you don't have to cover up for me," he smiles at you.

"okay," you look into his big brown eyes.

he makes his hands down to your skirt.

"can i leave it on?"

fuck.

"yes," you whine.

he moves to his knees and kisses up your thighs to your underwear.

you gasp as jungwon's teeth latch onto the thin fabic of your underwear. you sit up on your elbows to watch him drag them off of you with his teeth.

you can feel the smooth surface of his teeth as he slowly drags them against your skin.

his hands are on the side of both of your thighs as he looks up at you with dark, lustful eyes.

once your underwear are past your thighs, jungwon finishes pulling them down quickly.

"lay just like that baby." jungwon mumbles as he lightly pushes you back down.

when you're back down, he starts to kiss up your thighs.

his hands return to the side of you as he continues to kiss up your thighs slowly until he makes it to your stomach.

"you're so pretty," he growls onto your stomach.

"jungwon, please." you arch.

he slides his right hand up your thigh to your wet heat.

you shudder at the feeling, feeling the sensation of your pulsating cunt.

the soft tips of his fingers prodding at your entrance.

"please what?" he smirks against your stomach.

"touch me," you moan as he slides his finger in.

"that's all you had to say y/n," he slides back onto his knees.

before you could even think of something to say, his mouth connects with your clit. sucking harshly as you whimper.

"fuck jungwon," he slides another finger into your wet pussy.

fingers pumping into you as he sucks on your numb clit.

"jungwon," you heave as he speads up his pace.

his tongue swirls around your clit as he continues to finger you.

"i am going to cum," you moan, "please keep going, just like that." you run your hands through his hair.

he doesn't stop as you grip his hair tightly.

you start to feel that build up of pleasure that jaemin could never bring to you.

"fuck, i am so so so close,"

jungwon moans against your clit and you break.

arching you back as you chant his name.

he slows down his motions and lifts off of you, quickly coming up to check on you.

"are you okay?" jungwon smiles with his red lips and puffy lips.

"yes, i am more than okay." you smile at him in a daze, "this is the first time in awhile that a guy has made me cum." you blush.

"glad i could help," he smiles again before going down to pick up your underwear.

"what are you doing?" you sit up on your elbows.

"dressing you. i don't want your roommate to worry." he helps you to pull up your underwear.

"she'll be okay," you smile as he stands.

"i want it to be special." he looks down at you.

"what?" you look back up at him.

"I want my first time with you to be special." he explains.

"why?"

"because, this is something i've been dreaming about. i do not want it to be in the same room that you're cheating ex lives in. you deserve so much better." he pulls you up and looks into your eyes.

you blush as you look down at the floor.

"is that okay with you?" jungwon brings his hand to your chin and guides it so that you are looking at him.

his eyes as wide as a full moon. glaring at you with a sparkle that has you wanting to drop to your knees.

"yes," you kiss him, jungwon kissing you back with more passion than you thought a human could ever have.

he pulls back after about a minute, "let's get you home."

you nod as he grabs your hand and leads you to the door.

as soon as you open it, your ex is standing there.

"what the fuck are you doing with my girlfriend?" he nearly screams.

"doing what you couldn't," jungwon smiles innocently, "making her cum."

you chuckle as jungwon pulls you though the party.

eyes are all on you both but you couldn't care less. for the first time in a long time you feel wanted. cherished.

you look around for your bestfriend but don't see her. pulling out your phone you see her text.

i went home, text me (jungwon texted me ;))

"i can drive you home." he says as you both step out into the cold.

"i would love that," you smile up at him from his right side.

"alright," he slings his arm around you and kisses your forehead, "let's go."

[bunnyreaper]

𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖗𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖌𝖊𝖘 𝔞 𝔰𝔬𝔞𝔭 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔥 𝔵 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝖕𝖙 1 — 𝖕𝖙 2 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 wc - 5.7k warnings - 18+/nsfw, dom sub dynamic, eventual romance/smut, medium burn? notes - first part of my owner!soap x pet!reader, woohoo! i already regret writing something centered around texting and calling lmao, crying!! the formatting is killing me!! anyway, also on ao3! and if you wanna send a request, pls do! ♥

Lonely girl looking for owner. 

Posting on this subreddit again was probably a mistake—but a deep-down part of you clings to the hope that this time will be the time you find someone, the time you get to go home to him. 

At least this time, you'll be better at spotting the signs right off the bat—if only you can take off the rose-tinted glasses long enough to take note.

Your inbox is flooded with the usual kinds of messages—unsolicited pictures, low-effort one-sentence wonders, and so-called doms jumping straight to the part where they call you a nasty whore with no actual consideration for the person you are. 

You're just about to give up, delete the post, and ignore all chat requests when a message arrives in your inbox. 

From: squeakycleanscot 

Subject: Lonely guy looking for girl

Hi,

Saw your post and knew I had to message. You sound like everything I'm looking for and more.

I'm a little younger than the age you put on your post, but I think I fit your other requirements. I'm 27, Scottish (yes, with the accent), and in the army, I hope that's a turn-on rather than a turn-off.

When I'm not deployed, I like cosy nights in, preferably with my love by my side. Don't mind a night at the pub either, especially if there's a Celtic match on, not that anywhere near here shows them. 

I'm looking for something longer term like you mentioned (would love to collar my girl one day, which is probably ironic considering I'm a wee bit scared of dogs.)

Happy to send a picture if you'd like :) 

Hope to hear from you soon, 

Johnny.

Johnny. 

You reread the message, turning his words over in your mind. 

Something about his message has your attention—it at least suggests he has a brain in his head and a heart capable of empathy, and that maybe he's serious. 

You begin typing your reply instantly, your fingers moving so fast you have to type and retype so many parts to rid the message of all of the overexcited mistakes.

hi johnny, 

scottish?! is it bad im already imagining how your dirty talk will sound? 

it's funny, i always wanted to join the army growing up, but it never worked out. maybe it's for the best as now i'm not immune to enjoying a hot man in uniform... which I'm assuming you are ;) 

cosy nights in are my favourite too! I'm a bit of a homebody and love being snuggled up more than anything. i have to let you know in advance that you have some stiff competition in the form of my giant teddy bear, barnaby. 

i'm looking for something longer term too, or at least not a one night kind of thing—a collar one day would be the dream <;3 

if you send a picture, ill send one back, nothing sexy just yet though, if that's okay? 

have you met up with someone off here before? just curious about your experiences! 

y/n

As soon as the message is sent, the overthinking kicks in—was that too much? Is he going to think you're weird? 

You shuffle in bed, turning over between the sheets and trying to flick through other apps as you wait for a reply—otherwise, you'd just be staring at the notifications bar waiting for that silly little robot face to pop up. 

Johnny doesn't leave you waiting long, only a few minutes passing from your last message.

Maybe you'll find out sooner rather than later just how my dirty talk sounds ;) 

I tried to sneak in before I was old enough, but they caught on. Served since I was 18 though, you'll have a lot of stories ready from me if you're ever willing to listen. Not sure if the uniform is anything like you're thinking though, in my unit it's mostly just t-shirts, tac vests and trousers. 

I'll prepare my best snuggling arms for if we ever meet. You should inform Barnaby now about his replacement, mind. 

Can't not send a sexy photo though, sorry lass, all my pictures are. I'm sure you understand, lol

Haven't met anyone, had a few conversations but nothing worth pursuing, and had kind of given up until I saw your post. 

His message is the perfect mix of sexy, sweet, and sincere—and if that is the essence of the man, you know he's everything you're looking for. 

You try not to think too hard about a hot Scottish accent calling you all your favourite names or telling you exactly what to do, or even those stories he has to tell, as the idea is all too exciting. 

Reading his message, you instinctively reach out to pat Barnaby when you see he may end up replaced—hopefully the poor bear will understand when he has to vacate the bed for this sexy soldier man. 

looking forward to it. can I start putting in requests now for bedtime stories too?

i still wanna see, maybe in your sexy-not-sexy pic? 

barnaby will be devastated by the news, and you may have to give him hugs too (but not for too long, or i'll get lonely!!!)

same here, about things not going anywhere... or people turning out to be a bit scary, so you're not allowed to let me down, okay? 

Maybe the last part of the message was too much, but your heart is already soaring with unbridled hope—along with that hope comes doubt too. 

Each second waiting for a reply drags, and you take to re-reading his messages and clicking on his profile to investigate. 

It's largely empty of posts, but there are tons of comments across different communities—including his aforementioned football team, r/Scotland, and eyebleach. 

Clearly, he's a softie at heart. 

When his next message comes through, it's an Imgur link with a short message. 

Here we go, a few months old though now. Don't have anything more recent from work :) 

You take a moment or two to steady yourself before you tap the link. While you definitely feel like you and Johnny have already started to click, if he's not your type then it probably won't go anywhere... 

It's a situation you've been in before—great conversation, similar interests but no physical attraction, and back then you didn't have the heart to break it off straight away.

You tap the link and are greeted by a full-body shot of a tall, well-built man in tactical clothes. His hair is a neatly trimmed mohawk, and while his face isn't crystal clear, he's clearly fucking handsome. His biceps bulge from the gray tee stretched over his torso, his large hands are covered with gloves and grasping a gun.

Your eyes trail to his long legs, thick thighs encased in camo and strapped with various holsters. All in all, the picture is perfect. You find yourself zooming in desperately to get a better look at his face, the handsome jaw lined with stubble that you can already imagine between your legs. The whole image and every new detail has you squirming in your bed, and cheekily wishing to save the image to your phone.

holyfwucj 

holy fuck 

Like what you see? 

i need a hug from you urgently. 

now i feel shy... 

It had crossed your mind ever so slightly that Johnny may be out of your league, or that he simply may not be attracted to someone like you, which would be a complete shame. Now you've set eyes on him, you want him even more—want to kneel at those feet and stare up at his hulking figure while he tugs on a leash around your neck. 

Hopefully, just like you, he'll be smitten from the first glance. 

Scrolling through your camera roll, you decide you don't exactly love any recent photos of yourself. The ones at your last work event have you looking far too corporate, and the only image from your last night out was taking in a bathroom mirror in the local Wetherspoons—neither of which is ideal. 

You crawl out from the warmth of your sheets, kneeling on the end of the bed and posing as you point your camera in the mirror that sits across the room and captures you perfectly. Before you start snapping, you adjust your top to make sure too much isn't on display, even though it's strappy and cropped, and definitely a little bit more on the tantalising side as far as your pyjamas go. 

Hopefully, Johnny likes the pose and the outfit... and you. You can see your smiling face just to the side of your phone as you press to capture the picture—and when you return to your inbox to send the picture link, a message is waiting for you. 

I already know you're gorgeous. Don't leave me hanging, bonnie. 

okay. this is me now, all ready for bed!! 

Holy fuck yourself.

And I'm assuming that's Barnaby in the background. 

If he notices the pose, he doesn't comment on it, instead delighting your heart by commenting on Barnaby instead.

sure is! he's ready for snuggles and sleep. 

Can you do me a favour? 

That message makes your heart skip because usually when something like that is asked, it's followed with a request for nudes or something sexual—and while that is a large part of something like this, you crave the connection first, crave someone actually sticking around and getting to know you. 

depends on what it is!

Tell Barnaby to keep looking after you until I get there, yeah? 

does that mean you're coming for me?

One day, if we're both lucky.

seems promising so far, Johnny. 

Get some sleep, yeah? Maybe tomorrow night I'll give you a bell. 

The idea of this conversation ending is heart-wrenching, but at least sleep will bring you closer to that possible phone call. Hearing his voice, now that will be even more incredible. 

how do you expect me to sleep after telling me that? so mean! 

Patience, bonnie. Be good for me? 

You clench, your thighs squeezing together as arousal rushes through you. It's like he knows exactly how far to go, what buttons to press, what you're looking for.

It's the right kind of commanding, toeing the line perfectly between flirtatious and in charge. A lot of guys you've talked to have rushed it made commands too early, and sent you running. Johnny's words, be good for me? You can't help but want to behave. 

okay, but I see how this is going to be :( 

Bet you look so fucking good with a pout ;) 

now you're just being a cruel tease, Johnny... 

Sorry, I'll stop. Sleep, yeah, for me?

cuddling up to barnaby now. 

You decide to attach another picture, your eyes screwed shut and cheeks squished as you wrap yourself around the bear and cuddle up under the sheets. 

talk tomorrow?

Of course, bonnie, sweet dreams <;3 

You lock your phone, your eyes feeling relieved as they adjust to the darkness. 

For a brief moment, you just clutch your phone to your chest and recall the picture Johnny had sent, how much you'd love to be wrapped up in his arms tonight. 

He's the only thing on your mind as you drift off to sleep.

-//-

Your dreams are tumultuous, starting off with a nightmare of being chased and chased until your legs give out, only for you to find salvation and safety in a stranger's arms—one who seemed vaguely familiar. 

The first thing you do when you wake is roll over to check your phone, elation overtaking you when you see a notification from Johnny already waiting there—already he's blessing you with a good morning message.

Good morning, sweet girl.

Attached under the picture is another image link, and clicking on it brings up an absolutely gorgeous picture of Johnny, lazing in bed. There's just enough light in the room for you to see the brightness of his eyes that you couldn't see before—his mohawk is mussed, and his smile is easy, drawing you in. 

He's even more handsome in this up close photo, you can only imagine what he looks like in person, right before you. 

morning Johnny <3 how did you sleep? 

Like a baby. Yourself? 

not the best, but I swear you were in my dream. 

Sorry to hear that, but oh already? What did I do? 

I mean, it was a bulky guy with a mohawk but he didn't have your name, I think it was meant to be you though. 

You recall the safety you felt in the arms of the strange figure, it was serene, and everything you hope to feel when you find the one—hopefully that's Johnny.

My dreams were shite, you didn't show up. 

i'll try harder to be there tonight!! 

Promise? 

promise. 

God, he's so fucking sweet. It's hard to imagine he's into all the things you mentioned in your initial post, at least right now. But you're all too familiar with how appearances can be deceiving—you wonder what else your sweet Scot is into. 

You peel back the covers and head out into the kitchen, flicking the kettle on mindlessly as you keep your eyes fixated on the screen—not wanting to be even a minute late to answering Johnny's texts, even though it seems there's a natural lull in the conversation. 

You return your focus to making your tea, and your thoughts don't drift from Johnny for even a moment, as you ponder ways to keep the conversation going. Admittedly, you have a million and one questions you want, but you don't want to come across too... eager? clingy? Like some serial killer fiending for information? 

It's crazy the way your heart yearns for him so soon—and it's crazy the way that you wish he feels the same as you do. You wonder how his day is going, and if he's staring at your phone waiting for your message.

With tea brewed, you set it on the coffee table and flop onto the plush couch, rushing to open the app when a new notification pops up.

What's your plan for the day? 

lazy day, binge-watching... texting you? wbu? 

I have to work for a bit, but I'll message you when I can. 

On a weekend? That's horrible, but I imagine they run a tight ship over there. 

You rush to follow up your message with something else. 

will you still be able to call tonight? 

Aye, give me your number, I'll save it! 

You send off your number and don't hear anything from Johnny for a good few hours. You pass the time watching one of your favourite shows, and trying to resist the urge to go scroll down Johnny's profile once more.  

The next time a message pops up, it's well past lunch.

Cute profile pic on whatsapp.

Johnny has clearly added your number to his contacts and spied your picture on the app. You blush thinking of him seeing you in that costume—especially after he knows what you're into.

it was Halloween, I swear!! 

You make an adorable little kitten, lass.

imagination running wild now? ;) 

Aye, but I'm a gent. 

hopefully not always...

Oh, you'll see. Talk to you tonight, kitty. 

talk to you then &lt;;3 

Now you're just itching, waiting for the hours to crawl by for Johnny's workday to end, so you can talk to him again, so you can finally hear his voice. 

What will it sound like saying your name? Whispering sweet nothings in your ears? 

The hours pass slowly until a different notification lights up your phone as you cuddle into your sheets.

Hey, it's Johnny! Just got home. 

You scramble to click on the pop-up, spying his own profile picture in the corner—tapping on it to view it closer. 

It's the Johnny you recognise, smiling wide with his arm slung around another man. He looks so ridiculously happy, probably due to the pint in his other hand. The more you look at him, the more you can't believe you're talking to this man, that he wants to talk to you. 

You quickly add him to your contacts, putting a heart next to his name, before you return to the chat and begin to type.

i'm not the only one with a cute pfp!! 

Three sheets to the wind in that picture, actually.

i can tell &lt;3

Ready to call? 

whenever you're ready!

The image of him floods your screen, the screen pulsing as it waits for you to accept. Your fingers tremble as you press the button, and you fall silent as you press the phone to your ear, nerves gripping at your throat. 

"Hi, bonnie." His voice drifts from the phone speaker, sweet like honey and warm like sunshine, with that gorgeous accent too. 

"Hi." You squeak out, silently cursing at yourself for being so nervous and seemingly unable to speak. 

A melodic laugh follows your words, amused but not cruel or mocking. "Are you nervous?" His voice is soothing, his concern and sweet nature evident. 

You cradle your burning cheek, feeling the way your blush spreads across your smiling face. "Just a little, can you blame me?" 

He's laughing again, and you hear a shuffling noise that suggests he's getting comfortable. "Don't be, I'll look after yer, I promise." 

Fuck. You could get used to hearing that. "I really like your voice." You admit, whispering into the phone with a ridiculous grin on your face. 

"I like yours too, you sound so sweet." 

You drop your voice lower, giggling mischievously. "Only sometimes." 

"That's what I like ta hear." The way Johnny's voice dips as he says that has your insides fluttering, but you can only assume he's returning the favour. His tone returns to its usual charming tone as he asks, "How was your lazy day?" 

"Well, I kind of spent a fair bit of it distracted, thinking about this important call I was going to have tonight..." 

"Oh aye, I should get off the phone so you can wait then." 

"Funny. How was yours? What do you even do day to day, anyway?" You ask, voice brimming with curiosity—there are so many things you want to ask, but you imagine his job can be secretive. 

"Lots of training, and sometimes paperwork, which is right shite." 

"Not when you don't have someone under the desk keeping you company." You laugh, taking the chance to flirt. If you were into Johnny after reading his messages, actually hearing his voice is only making your attraction soar. 

A quiet fuck can be heard, as the man on the end of the phone heaves out a breath. "I'll have ta look into getting you clearance if you keep talking like that, lass." 

"Glad to be of service, what can I say?" You find yourself in a giggle fit at your own silliness, a mix of nerves and joy at enjoying yourself so much.

"God, I love yer laugh." The deep sincerity in his voice makes your chest tighten. 

The drug that is Johnny is already so intoxicating. 

"I'm so glad you can't see me blushing." 

"I'm no'." He sounds so indignant about that. "But I could listen to that laugh all day, really."

If only he could see you pout too. "Now you're just trying to make me blush more." 

He chuckles, his voice dropping dangerously flirtatious again. "Maybe I am, nothing you can do about it."

"Now I'm pouting." 

"Better not pout in front of me, lass." His suggestive tone makes you shiver. 

"Oh, why's that?" You ask, playing coy. 

"'Cause I'll just have to start kissing ya, might even nibble on those soft little lips." 

You suppress a delighted squeak, already so flustered at even the idea of a kiss. "I'm not hearing a downside." 

"No?" 

"Nope." 

"Might not be gentle with you, though." 

"Good thing that I like it rough." The words are out of you before you can reconsider, but they have exactly the effect you intend as you hear Johnny inhale sharply.

"Ach, you and yer wicked mouth." 

"You have no idea..." 

He lets out a rough exhale, his voice turning gravelly and deep. "Fuck, bonnie." 

"Hey, I'm only repaying the favour, I've been squirming desperately pretty much since I picked up the phone." 

He whistles approvingly, his voice now teasing and playfully menacing. "Just you wait til I'm really in ya head." 

"You're already making good progress." You admit.

"Oh aye?" 

You hum contentedly, eyes flickering shut for a moment. "I'll be imagining your voice as I fall asleep tonight." 

"I'll just have ta send yer voice notes to drift off to, so I can end up in your dreams again." You can almost hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Already spoiling me, too." 

Fuck, how is it this man seems to know exactly what to say? Everything that comes out of his mouth takes root in your brain and sends your thoughts running wild—it's like he's already in your head, or as if someone made him in a lab.

"I'll spoil ya every day, if you're ever mine." 

You groan in frustration, unbelieving that a stranger can be so seemingly perfect. "How are you even single, Johnny?" 

"I could ask you the same. Taking everything in me to not ask for an address right now, if I'm being honest." He huffs a laugh. 

While the idea is thrilling, you know you should have at least some sense of preservation, and shouldn't blurt out your postcode for this strange man you barely know. "I'm worth the wait, I swear." You whisper your promise. 

"I'm sure yer are. But to answer your question, my work keeps me busy a lot, and this lifestyle isn't for everyone." There's a hint of vulnerability to his voice, and you sense such a fact is a sore point in his personal life. 

In the fantasy of all of this, you suppose the reality of the situation isn't something you'd stopped to consider. Life for a man in the military was surely so different from a regular 9-5. "I'm guessing that you're away a lot?" 

"Aye, sometimes for just a few days, sometimes for months, all depends." His admission is soft, as if you can hear in his tone that he's waiting for you to bolt. 

If that's the big 'catch' when it comes to Johnny, you can breathe a sigh of relief. "Yeah, I guess you need someone strong and loyal to hold on and wait for you." 

There's a tense silence, something lingering in the air. 

"Hard to come by, I've found." 

The thought makes your stomach twist in the worst possible way. Johnny, at least on the surface, seems so worthy of love. 

You chance the question that's on the tip of your tongue, hoping Johnny doesn't mind your reckless curiosity. "Have... you been cheated on?" 

"More than once, gets less surprising over the years." He finishes with a sad laugh, as you can tell he tries to infuse humour into the whole thing. 

"That's... horrible." 

Being sent away from your home to face gunfire and warfare, all to keep the people back home safe... only to be betrayed by the people back home who love you, who are supposed to wait for you. It's a gut-wrenching thought, and your heart aches for the man.

"A few of the lads here have a similar story." 

"So the army, not for the faint of heart, and dating an army man, not for the faint of heart." You sigh, though you don't feel put off by the thought.  

"Exactly. That you then? Faint of heart?" 

"No. I mean, inside I'm clingy as hell, and I'd miss you like crazy every day until you got back..." Your emotions overtake you, as you imagine a future where you'd have to kiss the man goodbye for maybe months at a time. "But I get the feeling that what we could have would be worth the wait. Hypothetically of course." 

At that, Johnny laughs, and his light tone returns. "Don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves, aye." 

You don't want to get ahead of yourself, you know you shouldn't, but the way you and Johnny have clicked is unlike anything you've felt before. "But... I have a good feeling." 

"I do too, already dreading putting down the phone." 

"I'm not planning on it anytime soon, even if I have to be up early tomorrow." 

"So do I, alarms set for 4." 

You do not envy his lifestyle one bit.

"That's awful! I'm gonna be so cranky tomorrow, I might have to use my lunch break for a nap." You admit, preemptively yawning into your hand. 

"You one of those perpetually sleepy girls?" 

You nod, even though he can't see it. "The sleepiest." 

"Barnaby is a lucky bear, getting to cuddle up to you so much." 

You burst out laughing at the hint of envy in his words. "Are you... jealous?"

"For now, but soon the tables will turn." He faked an evil laugh, that only makes you giggle harder. 

"Oh, you think you can give better snuggles than him?" 

"Oh, I know I can, bonnie. The bear can't wrap his arms around yer, can't whisper sweet things in your ear..." His voice dips back into that seductive, teasing tone. "... Can't trail his hands down to that pretty little pussy." 

Once more, you flush with desire, every nerve alight as Johnny's words wash over you—although it seems like almost everything he says has your body reacting. "You have an interesting way of cuddling, Johnny."

"Didnae say I was actually gonna do anything once my hands got down there." 

"Well, I wouldn't be opposed." 

"When you're in my arms, you wouldn't have a choice, lass." The dark, dominant voice makes you shiver, makes your submissive instincts awaken. 

"Oh yeah?" 

He hums slowly. "Once you're mine, you leave the choices to me. Johnny knows best, yeah?" 

"Johnny knows best." You whisper breathlessly, the words coming out automatically, like they just feel right.

"Steamin' Jesus, can already tell yer gonna be the death of me." 

"Can't have that, your family won't get your death in service payout!" You laugh awkwardly, before a sense of guilt rears its head. "Sorry, grim joke." 

"I don't mind. You should hear some of the ones my Lt. comes out with, he's a right sick bastard." He chuckles.

"Never want to make light of it and hurt you, though." 

"Telling jokes makes it easier hen, you'll be wishing me dead in no time at all."  

You gasp, shocked by the prospect. "I'd never!" 

"Not even when I deny you from touching yourself for my entire deployment? Months of nothing at all?" The sick grin is evident in his voice. 

"You wouldn't, that's so mean. You're too sweet for that." 

"Aye, for now, but don't you like a little bit of meanness, if yer into men like me..." The edge to his voice and the truth to your words has you trembling. 

"Maybe..." You singsong in response, not wanting to give away just how much you liked the idea of his mean side. 

"Bonnie..." He tuts disapprovingly. "Don't play coy." 

You shudder out a breath as you squeeze your thighs together for relief. "I just don't want you to bully me too much right now, I'm already soaked." 

"Is that right?" He seems delightfully surprised by such a revelation. 

"Mhmm." 

"I'm fucking rock hard if it helps, think I have been since last night..." You hear him shuffle, and you try not to imagine what's happening on the other end of the line, or how he looks lying in bed with said hardness.

When he groans hungrily down the line, you feel yourself quake once more. "The sight of you on your fucking knees... Christ alive." 

You can't help but giggle at your unintended teasing. "It wasn't on purpose, I thought it was cute more than anything." 

"Adorable and naughty, could cum just looking at it." He huffs. 

"You're just flattering me, besides, I could say the same about your picture."

Every part of you flushes thinking of the first photo he sent, all muscle and alpha male—it's like he was the physical embodiment of dominance, and just looking at him makes you want to kneel.

"You like the military get up?" 

"Love it, more than I probably should." 

"Oh aye, bet you'd love for me to order you around?" His words are playful, but underpinned with a hint of promise. "All in due time, eh?" 

"All in due time. What's your rank, anyway?" 

"Sergeant." 

"Wait..." You take a deep breath as you consider your question. "Can I ask for your last name or is it too soon?" 

"Mactavish."

Johnny Mactavish—you should remember to give that a quick Google search later.

"Sergeant Mactavish." You test the name on your tongue, trying to imagine him at work, following and giving orders. 

"Sounds too good when you say it, bonnie." He laughs. 

"Thank you, sergeant." Your affectation of the word is entirely intentional, as you attempt to rile him up with the use of his title. 

The throaty groan that leaves him is addictive.

"What else do you like to be called?" 

"Depends on what you want to call me really, but I like... sir." 

"I like it too, will have to remember that for the future, and just torture you with sergeant in the meantime." You can't help but giggle as you flirt. 

"Oh don't worry, am keeping score." He growls playfully. "Wait til I get ma hands on you, bonnie." 

"You're keeping score?" You gasp, a heady mix of fear and arousal coursing through you almost urges you to be even more of a teasing brat.

"Aye, spanking arm at the ready." 

"My pouting lips are ready." 

"Won't be the only thing you use them lips for."

Fuck fuck fuck. Not that you hadn't thought about it already, hadn't already let your mind drift to what his cock might look like—whether it matches the size of the man—now you're definitely thinking about it. Fixated on it, craving it. 

Some cards are best kept close to your chest so early on, so you change tack and go a different direction with his flirtation. "Yeah, with you in the room, I'd probably be smiling a whole lot." 

The two of you continue to chat, you asking what you can about his work as he asks about yours, and you fill him in on the boring world you live in, which seems especially boring in comparison to taking down cartels and traveling the world.

The conversation never stops being easy, the flirtation and innuendo always right there at the tip of your tongues as you tease each other relentlessly—giving as good as you get. All night, you're practically grinding against your duvet as you get lost in Johnny's dulcet tones, and you find yourself just letting him speak for the sake of getting to hear more of his voice.

As Johnny is about to ask you more about your background, you're overcome with a harsh yawn that you desperately try to stifle. Your eyes have been shut for the last hour at least, but with the command Johnny has over your nervous system right now, it's been easy to stay awake. 

"Tired, bonnie?" He asks, voice laced with sweet concern.

"Yeah..." Your voice falls quiet, as the thought of ending the call makes your throat constrict. "But I don't wanna stop talking." 

"Me either, but av got bad news." 

You know what's coming, and you know it isn't remotely anywhere near the end of the world, despite what your heart is telling you right now. "Go on." 

"I have to go." Even he sounds sad about such an outcome. 

"It's not even that late?" The clock reads 2 am. 

"Gotta get a wee bit of sleep before I hit the gym, and then get off ta work. Don't you have work too?" 

"Work from home tomorrow, so it's not too bad. Not fair though, I wanna keep talking." You admit quietly. It's too much too soon, but you're overwhelmed, the tide of your emotions crashing over the edges.

"Tell yer what. Next time we call, we can try leaving it on while we sleep."

Your heart flips, as you almost whimper at how cute the gesture is. "Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?"

"Obviously." There's that gorgeous laugh again. "Is it working?" 

"Just a little, but that might be the lack of sleep talking, I might be going slightly insane." 

Johnny sighs, and it's clear he's battling to keep a handle on his self-control. "Rest, bonnie, I won't be able to work knowing you're not sleepin'" 

You sigh too, accepting your fate. "Okay, just for you." 

"Just want what's best for you, you need your sleep."  

Your head spins at how utterly sincere he sounds—the care in his voice after such a short amount of time serves to drive you even deeper into this infatuation. "Already?" 

"Can't turn it off, am just protective by nature, bonnie. If you were my girl, you'd have a bedtime." 

And that makes your cunt clench and your heart soar. "Johnny..." You whine.

"Yeah?" 

You hesitate to say what you want to say next, but everything within you is calling out for him, desperate to be in his arms. "Don't make me wait too long to meet you, please." 

His laughter is sweet, conveying a sense of understanding more than anything. "I'll try ma best, supposed to be off on Friday." 

"5 whole days."

"Sure you don't wanna wait a bit longer?" 

You shake your head, mumbling a sound to convey your feelings. "Feels right, don't know how to describe it... do you feel it too?" 

Johnny takes a deep breath, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks. "I do, lass." 

"Good." You couldn't even attempt to fight the idiotic grin on your face, or how warm you feel inside and out. "I'll get some sleep, talk soon." 

"Goodnight, bonnie. Sweet dreams."  

You wait for Johnny to end the call, not wanting to push the button yourself and have his presence fade away. When your screen dims, you resist the urge to text him more, opting instead to put your phone on charge and roll over to Barnaby—wishing it was Johnny instead. 

[jaiden-zhou]

(1) casual iso <3

contents: headcanons, reader is a uniqlo employee for plot purposes

not a writer but,, iso is so.. sigh, imagine this reserved uniqlo wearing hitman acting like an absolute puppy for you. yeah this is self indulgent and yeah maybe its based off of my experiences but hey, content.. its long.. i.. the things this man does to me

part 2, part 3

.

.

iso whose closet is practically all uniqlo apparel, from core basics to limited exclusive collabs, anything else is like expensive tech wear/street style clothes, he likes his quality

iso who always grabs heavy oolong milk tea with tapioca pearls, a classic predictable drink (his friends call him basic for it, but he doesn't mind), every afternoon he gets the chance to

iso who ends up being an employee there with how much he visits, the owners are a chinese elderly couple who like gossiping with him in mandarin (he has fun listening to their stories and such)

iso who likes having music playing of his own whether it be from his headphones or speakers, even at work his music is playing loud enough for only him to hear from his headset hanging around his neck

iso who works evening shifts part-time and gains a lot of eyes from admirers where he gets at least three numbers given to him a month like "you're really cute, text me <3 (XXX) XXX-XXXX"

iso who's never interested, none of them catch his eyes like how he catches theirs, and ends up tossing whatever number scribbled onto a receipt away

iso who goes to uniqlo on his day off for a collaboration launch consisting of outerwear jackets and trousers that match his style only to not find his size on the racks

iso who takes his time trying to comb through the racks, desperate to find it on his own and take it with him before giving up, pulling down his headphones, and reluctantly asking you

iso who, at a reasonable distance, looks over your shoulder as you look up the product listing with the desired size and color, hearing faint rap music playing through his headphones slung around his neck, finding that there should be three units left and listens in quietly when you radio your coworkers if there are any in the back before going to look for yourself

iso who waits patiently at the same spot for quite a while before you go jogging up to him with the jacket he has been wanting, the plastic and paper still wrapping it up signaling that it has been unprocessed and untouched

iso who still is patient with you with an expectant look, not the impatient kind, it's the anticipating excitement kind, as you're still a little out of breath from running around finding the item for him unwrapping and removing all the excess packaging and giving it to him with both hands, garbage tucked at your arm

iso who looks at your earnest expression, sweet eyes, and genuine smile and feels his breath hitch before taking the coat and doing a little head bow while muttering a quiet 'thanks'

iso who leaves an anonymous compliment to you, conveying his gratitude for going out of your way to find him a limited quantity jacket and sub-consciously thinks of your cute expression of when you gave it to him every time he throws it on

iso who was asked to pick up a morning shift, no one else could and so he decided to just wake up early enough and suck it up but boy does he not regret it

iso who opens up the shop for the first time ever and lo-and-behold, you waltz in as the first customer and immediately he recognizes you, and apparently so do the owners

iso who listens quietly as, whom he likes to call granny, greets you with a warm voice asking if you're ready to go to work

iso who once again patiently waits for you to walk up and order, finding out that you're also a regular here, always grabbing a drink before your long shift at the japanese clothing store he met you in

iso who's still a little quiet, shy even, when you greet him noting that you recognize him from a while ago, your friendly exterior giving him a fuzzy comforting feeling inside

iso who after making your drink, bids you goodbye and continues on (not before asking to switch to morning shifts.. for some reason hehe)

iso who starts seeing you most mornings before you work and then with some time, working up the courage (it was very hard, he was very nervous you just didn't see it) to ask you for your number, nothing romantic just being friendly, right?

iso who starts getting a little closer to you, learning what day and times you work, your hobbies, your favorite things, the music you listen to <3

iso who sometimes drops by your workplace to give you a drink or some food and simple yet subtly sweet encouragement that always seems to lift your spirits to push through the day

iso who even starts to see you near or at the end of your shift to take you home, you've worked long enough, and it's dark out.. :(

iso who likes to ensure your safety by accompanying you home, his friends like to say (tease) that it gives him an excuse to see you more. it's dangerous out at night, what are they talking about? nonsense. (denial is a river in egypt)

iso who as time goes by, slowly craves your presence a little more than he'd like to admit, you're always on his mind and he often flusters himself with his thoughts of you, his cheeks donning a light-pink blush. maybe his friends are onto something.. ugh

yeah i'm definitely writing more iso content hehe

------

"don't have to take me home every time, zhao yuuuu." you whined next to him. "i've done it before and i can do it again."

you only get a short scoff in return, iso's hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket.

"it's dark, you're more at risk when you're alone." iso states matter-of-fact. his headphones at his neck with no music playing. "you know this too, so you shouldn't be complaining."

"yeah but," you pause for a moment. "i don't want you to have to make the trip each time to pick me up.."

iso takes in your dejected tone, his eyes soften.

"and i don't want you being in potential danger where i could've been there to deter it." iso chides softly. "please, for my peace of mind.."

"whatever you say," you comply, your shoulder bumping into him jokingly as you share a quiet laugh. "thanks, yu. it means a lot."

"always," he replies, a certain warmth sets in when he hears you say his nickname.

[keimunnn]

in the tent

KUVIRA + F!READER

warnings: nsfw (18+) — vaginal penetration, use of metal strap, thigh riding, oral (recieving), wlw, dom!kuvira sub!reader, use of you/yours (let's just pretend kuvira has like a really huge tent she shared with you instead of that metal-like building in that one episode when su, wing, and wei intruded her when she 'slept' LMAO anyways) idk how to use tumblr

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As Kuvira entered the tent she shared with you in the army camp, her eyes immediately fell on your form. You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your knees drawn up to your chest with a hint of a pout on your face. Kuvira chuckled softly, approaching you with a teasing smile.

"Now, now," She said softly, sitting down beside you on the bed. "Why so pouty, my love?" Kuvira brought her hand to your chin, tilting it up to face her.

You grumbled softly, leaning against her touch with a tinted look on my face. "My voice would haunt them for the rest of their lives..." You sulked, shaking your head. You couldn't even believe the fact the guards had heard the both of you fucking in a cave, forgetting the fact that they were guarding outside for any attacks of some kind but eventually heard your moans echoing throughout the entrance. You see, that was the case; The both of you weren't subtle with the noises.

Kuvira chuckled softly, shaking her head as she heard your words. "Oh, my love," She cooed, her hand gently cupping your face. "Why would what they heard be haunting?"

Her thumb gently stroked over your bottom lip, her gaze soft and affectionate. "All they'll hear is the evidence of your pleasure. Isn't that a good thing?"

"How lovely." You told her, whining a bit.

"All they could think about would be 'the Great Uniter fucks her fiancée everywhere they go.' and that was exactly what happened when we wanted to explore the cave and just... lost it!" You pointed out a finger at her, telling her about the possible rumor and then throwing my hands in the air in complete embarassment.

Kuvira laughed outright, her head thrown back in genuine amusement at your ranting. She reached out, wrapping her arms around your waist and pulled you onto her lap.

"And even if it were true," She whispered, her mouth trailing along your neck. "What's so terrible about that?"

You let Kuvira pull you to her lap, making you sit comfortably as she leaned in to trail her mouth along your hickey-covered neck, tilting your head a bit to the side to give her more access.

You had let out a quiet sound, her lips a bit ticklish on your sore skin from how she had attacked it earlier in the cave. "It's just a bit... scandalous..." you muttered out, closing your eyes shut at the feeling.

Kuvira chuckled softly, her mouth leaving a trail of light bites along your sensitive skin. She could feel you melt to her every touch, your body responding to her like a finely tuned instrument.

"Scandalous?" She murmured, her voice low and seductive. "Perhaps, but that only makes it all the more exciting. Let them wonder. Let them imagine."

"But you're the Great Uniter..." You softly retorted back, grasping onto her shoulders a bit with a shaky exhale.

Kuvira lifted her head slightly to meet your gaze, her eyes holding a mix of desire and affection. "And you're soon to be my wife." She pointed out softly, her hand cupping your cheek gently. "Together, we shall rule the empire. Let them talk. Let them speculate. All that matters is our love for each other."

Her mouth moved to capture yours in a deep, passionate kiss, her tongue gently probing past your lips as if to emphasize her point.

Your hands on her shoulder to stabilize yourself from the force she let out, making you lean back slightly when she kissed into you hard on the mouth.

You felt her hands sneak to your hips, bringing you over to her lap. You moaned gently into the kiss as you felt your clothed core rubbing onto her thigh with a groan, furrowing your eyebrows at the contact. She snakes a hand to your under your uniform's skirt that she customized for you, and onto your thin underwear. Kuvira was almost surprised you already took your shorts off when you got back to the tent. She reaches to the thin fabric and pushes it to the side so your wet slick could rub against her clothed thigh, still wearing her pants underneath you.

Kuvira's grip on your hips tightened as she felt you moan into her kiss, her fingers pressing into your skin with possessive need. She guided your movements on her lap, gently rocking you against her thigh so that you could feel the heated friction building between your bodies.

She withdrew slightly from the kiss, just enough to speak in a soft, husky voice. "Is this what you wanted, my love? Feeling me beneath you, making you feel good?" She asked lowly, looking right into your face to admire how you had your face molded into a lewd expression.

You nodded, your lips parting open as your hips rocked on her thigh. Your hips circled on her lightly, and then moved back and forth. You let out a shaky sigh, biting your lip softly and threw your head back at the friction and how Kuvira had flexed her thigh against your wet slick.

You felt her hand grip on you chin, making you look back down at her. "Kuvira..."

Kuvira's eyes darkened with lust as she saw your expression, your head thrown back in pleasure, your breath escaping in shaky sighs. Her fingers moved to trace over your skin, their touch possessive yet soothing.

"Yes, love?" She whispered, her voice husky as she guided your hips with her own movements, helping you feel the friction building between your bodies. "Do you want more?"

You nodded with a moan, rocking your hips even more with a whine. The fact the both of you were doing this in a tent in the Earth Empire army camp made it seem shameless.

You felt her fingers enter your mouth, poking at your throat. You didn't even notice her removing her gloves at all, too distracted at grinding your hips onto her. She felt your lips around her long fingers, sucking on it gently as you continued with your hip movements, muffled whimpers were let out.

Kuvira felt her breath hitch at the sight of your mouth wrapped around her digits, the feel of your tongue as you sucked gently at her skin sending a shiver down her spine. Her eyes darkened with desire as she watched you move against her, the sound of your whimpers fueling her own need.

"That's it, my love," She whispered, her voice thick with lust. "Take your pleasure. I want to feel you shudder in my arms."

You swirled your tongue around her fingers, equally as aroused. You rubbed yourself against her even more, feeling the knot tying harder inside your stomach as you humped like a dog in heat. A muffled whimper was let out against her fingers, sucking on it as your hips moved faster, feeling her other hand grip onto my waist.

Kuvira's breath came in shallow gasps as she watched you grind against her, the sight of you riding her thigh driving her to the brink of madness. She couldn't tear her eyes away from your mouth as you sucked at her fingers, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure straight to her core. Her free hand trails themselves onto your beautiful mounds, groping and squeezing them intimately.

"You're so beautiful," She moaned, her voice low and husky. "You're driving me insane. I need to taste you." Her thumb caresses your cheek gently, fingers still deep down your throat.

After Kuvira had said that, you were pushed down onto the tent's ground, her fingers sliding out of your mouth, your core throbbing before you could even release. You whined at the lack of friction, watching as she hovered above you once more and lifted your skirt up to look at your soaked underwear.

"You already look so delicious like this." Kuvira gave a low, sinful laugh at the sight of your soaked underwear, her hands possessively sliding them down your legs before discarding them aside as she squeezed in between your spread-out thighs. You softly blushed at her words, panting heavily from the way she pressed your legs to your chest, folding you in a completely lewd way with her hands behind your knees.

She could smell the heady musk of your arousal in the air, and she knew that she would soon make good on her promise to you.

"I can't resist the sight of you like this," She murmured, her fingers dancing along the inside of your thighs. "Completely at my mercy. I could devour you right now."

You moaned at her words, biting onto your thumb as Kuvira had dug into your pussy as soon as she said that, tasting and flicking her tongue almost immediately. Your legs moved in the air, shaking lightly as they were spread open even more for more access. You let out low whimpers, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as to attempt to muffle your sounds.

Kuvira relished in the feeling of your body shuddering under her touch, the taste of your arousal only fueling her own. She withdrew her tongue, looking up to watch you try to muffle your moans.

"Don't hide those sounds, love," She whispered, her voice low and possessive. "I want to hear the effect I have on you."

"They'll hear us again—..!" You tried to reason, but was interrupted by a moan as you felt her finger rub on the sensitive bud.

Kuvira chuckled, the sound low and sinful. "Let them hear," She murmured, her fingers circling around the sensitive bud expertly. "Let them hear how you feel under my touch. How you shudder and tremble. Let them envy what I have."

She lowered her head, her mouth finding your desperate clit almost instantly, her tongue flicking against it. Your voice grew louder each time she says something so... scandalous like this. You dug your fingers into her braided hair, burying her head deeper between your legs.

Kuvira moaned softly against your skin, the vibration from her voice sending a shiver of pleasure through your body. She could feel your fingers digging into her hair, your body responding instinctively to her ministrations.

"You taste so sweet," She murmured, her tongue delving deeper into your core. "I could stay here forever, listening to you whimper and moan for me."

You let go of her hair and gripped onto the pillow right next to your head, her words reaching straight to your core as you released intensely into her mouth, practically squealing into the back of your hand, breathless.

Kuvira lapped at you hungrily, savoring the taste of your release as she made sure to wring every last bit of pleasure off of you. Her hands gently held your trembling legs steady, her fingers rubbing soothing circles over your skin as she helped you ride out the waves of your orgasm.

She finally lifted her head, her eyes dark with desire as they met your flushed cheeks. "That's my good girl," She murmured, her voice husky with satisfaction.

As soon as you thought it was over, she pressed your legs against your chest again, making you stay in place as she fumbled and took her pants off. You watched intently as she took the metal rods on her uniform, using metal bending as it turns into a...

"You're going to use... that?" You asked nervously, pointing at the metal toy she created on her hand. You watched even more as she strapped it on, acting as though it was her own genital.

Kuvira watched your gaze, a mischievous smirk on her lips as she noticed your nervous reaction to her creation. She could see the anticipation and curiosity in your eyes, along with a hint of shyness.

"Oh, don't worry, my love," She said, her voice filled with reassurance. "I promise I'll be gentle. It'll feel good, trust me."

She leaned in closer, her hand gently stroking your hair. "Do you want to try it?"

You nodded almost immediately, your core already throbbing in anticipation as you felt your stomach flipping inside at the thought. "Since I made it myself—I, too, can feel you through this toy." Kuvira says she pins your legs to your breasts, getting ready to enter.

You eyes widened slightly at the information, getting ready to what's about to happen as you watched her aim metal toy to your already-abused entrance with her hand, sliding over the wet slick to have it lubed up with your own natural fluids.

You grumbled softly, whining as she entered slowly, making sure to adjust in time. You whimpered as she entered entirely, making you a bit breathless, closing your eyes.

"Does it hurt?" Kuvira asks, leaning down to give you a caress on the cheek and a caress to your stomach soothingly.

"A bit..." You replied, calming yourself down at the new feeling.

Kuvira groans a bit, feeling everything the toy could feel. You moaned lowly at the sight with her buried inside you and nuzzled deeply.

Kuvira gave you a moment to adjust, her fingers caressing your cheek softly as she whispered reassurances to you, telling you that you were beautiful and good to her. She could feel the faint throbbing of the toy inside you, and it sent a surge of pleasure through her body, making her groan softly.

"You're doing so well, my love," She whispered, her voice filled with admiration. "You feel incredible. So tight and warm."

You moaned at her words, signaling her it was fine to move now. You felt her move, in and out slowly just in case you felt any pain. Once she noticed your legs wrapping around her waist, she took the hint and moved faster, making you rock back and forth from the force as Kuvira had her hands on my knees, keeping them open.

Kuvira continued her movements, the feeling of the toy working inside you sending waves of pleasure through her body. She listened to your sounds, how your breath deepened and your moans grew louder, and she knew that she was giving you the pleasure you craved.

"You're so beautiful like this," She whispered, her voice filled with adoration. "I'm the only one who gets to see you like this... the only one who gets to make you feel good. You're all mine."

The room was filled with the sounds of their moans and gasps as they moved together, their bodies perfectly synced. Kuvira's eyes were fixated on your face, watching every expression of pleasure that crossed your features. She wanted to make you feel good like no one else could.

You felt as her hands had moved my legs over her shoulder, pounding deeper and deeper with her thrusts.

All you could do was hold onto the headboards, your body rocking back and forth onto the sheets under her, your breasts moving against the rhythm as your body folded under Kuvira's hold. Your eyes rolled back, lips parted open.

The bed was creaking, both of your voices loud enough to escape the tent and for anyone who passes by. You bit your lip, feeling ecstatic and pleased. Kuvira's pace increased, her breaths coming in sharper gasps as she chased her own release. The sounds of your bodies moving together filled the tent. Skin-slapping echoed and moans filled the air around the two of you.

"Don't hold back, my love," She whispered, her voice strained with pleasure. "I want to hear you scream my name."

"Mmh.. Aah- Ku- Kuvira!" I managed to let out, my voice loud enough and shaky from the harsh movements against me, feeling her pound into me like an animal.

Kuvira's breath hitched as she heard you call out her name, her movements becoming rougher and more desperate as she tried to bring you to the edge. She could feel her own release building, her body tensing and her grip on your legs tightening.

"Yes, say it, say my name," The Great Uniter whispered, her voice low and husky. "I want to hear it, over. And. Over."

The sounds of skin slapping and wetness surrounded the huge tent, heat raditating off of your bodies. Kuvira's thrusts were ruthless,

"Kuvira, Kuvira—... Kuvira!" You screamed her name on each thrust, the last one being louder as your body had shook violently as you released, drool slipping out if your mouth as your eyes rolled back. You panted heavily, feeling both of your bodies come to a slow hault.

Kuvira let out a broken gasp, her body shaking along with yours as she found her release, your name on her lips like a whispered prayer. Her hips rocked gently through it, prolonging the pleasure for the both of you.

She leaned down to capture your lips in a gentle, tender kiss that made her heart soar, her fingers caressing your cheek as she tried to catch her breath. "You're so perfect," She whispered against your lips.

You felt her pull out with a delicious pop, hearing the wetness on the metal toy as she did. You looked down at it, seeing it covered almost entirely by your own slick.

"Spirits, Kuvira." You said, looking away from the metal toy she made just for this moment. "You're certainly... energetic in a way." You pointed out, blushing a bit as you closed your legs shut after she had pulled out.

Kuvira gave a husky chuckle at your comment, her eyes taking in the sight of her creation and the evidence of their passion. She sets it aside, making a mental note to clean it later.

"You have no idea, love,” She said with a small smirk, her eyes locked on yours. “There’s so much more I’d do for you, if you let me. You just say the word, and I’ll do anything for you."

"I think I'm done for the night." You sighed out in content, sitting up so you could clean myself. "So you can feel just anything with that toy you created, huh?" you questioned, remembering what she said earlier.

Kuvira's smirk widened at your question. "Anything at all," She confirmed, her tone suggestive. "I can feel every movement, every sensation, every little twitch. It's like I'm right inside you."

She watched you clean up, her eyes taking you in with a gentle admiration. "And don't worry," She reassured you. "I'll clean up the toy later. Just relax and rest, my love."

"Mhm... you went pretty rough." you sighed out in satisfaction, sweatdropping a bit as you wobbled your way back to the bed.

Kuvira gave a soft laugh as she watched you stumble back to the bed, the sight endearing. "Yes, I did," She agreed, a hint of teasing in her tone. "But you loved every bit of it, didn't you?" You laughed softly before rolling your eyes.

•

•

•

uh yeah so this was just a little drabble because kuvira's got me feeling some type of way and it's just something to feed myself JAHSUAHAJA anyway i hope this was good enough?

[fortheloveofwonderland]

In This Diary | S.R

Summary - The summer of ‘02 was supposed to be just like any summer that had come before. Spencer Reid was mostly hoping to relax before his started his new job at the Behavioural Analysis Unit in the fall. But best laid plans often go awry.

Now all these years later he’s come into possession of the diary he kept during that time and he’s forced on a trip down memory lane to a perfect Las Vegas summer in which he fell in love for the very first time. But if he’s not careful, he might allow himself to get so lost in his nostalgia he may not be able to drag himself back to the present.

A/N - this goes back and forth a lot in time, I hope it makes sense. Where there’s a page break it goes back to the present day. Based on the song In This Diary by The Ataris. Written for @imagining-in-the-margins Summer Sunshine Challenge. Thank you again @pinkiceee-prose and @andiebeaword for reading over this 🖤

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - angst with happy ending | strangers to friends to lovers | smut minors DNI

Warnings - post prison, pot smoking, virgin Spencer, slight sub! Spencer, use of “good boy”, mild praise kink (Spencer), handjob, swearing, fingering, masturbation (m), brief mention of medication but no specifics, talk of PTSS, angst, allusions to sex, brief mention of protected sex, oral (m receiving), brief mention of past addiction and Emily’s “death”.

WC - 10.3k honestly I can’t write anything short

Here in this diary I write you visions of my summer, it was the best I ever had…

The dogeared, weathered pages told their age beneath his fingertips, speaking their tales through skin. Smudged ink seeped through the yellowing paper, penned words of a different time etched to hold their memory. 

His fingers danced across them as though reading braille, trying to feel the words the way he had when he'd written them. So much time had passed, so much had changed, this book felt like it was from a different lifetime.

If he closed his eyes he could feel himself there. He could feel the way the hot Vegas sun beat down on him, causing little beads of sweat to roll down his face, feeling it tightening his skin. He could sense the pen in his hand as he scrawled down his thoughts, committing them to these pages. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just writing.” 

“Writing what?” 

“Memories. I want to remember this summer.” 

“You have an eidetic memory, dork.” 

He could feel the gravel beneath him, hear the occasional passing vehicle on the freeway whilst hanging out at truck stops just to pass the time. 

He could see fireworks illuminating the sky in desolate parking lots, hear their crackle and bang as they exploded and then disappeared. 

He could hear the thrum of the eighties songs through tinny speakers, even if he never really enjoyed them. He could feel the droplets of water on his frazzled skin from the splash back of a body diving into the hotel pool which was not strictly open to the public. 

It was another life, one he’d long ago left behind but still carried pieces of it with him. 

I guess when it comes down to it, being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up…

“Whatcha got there?” 

A voice snapped him out of his nostalgia and he quickly closed the old book and looked up from his desk. He blinked a few times to try and bring himself back to the present, back from memory lane which he’d started to get lost down. 

Spencer Reid was not known to be a sentimental man, in all honesty he had few good memories from his past to be wistful over. And now was not the time to start. 

Luke had an amused smirk on his lips as he looked down at the younger man and the old, tattered journal on his desk. 

“Oh, uh, it’s nothing.” Spencer swallowed with a shake of his head. 

“Looked like a diary.” Luke’s smile grew, his intense dark eyes full of mirth. “I saw a date in the corner? August twenty ninth two thousand and two. You'd have been…”

“Twenty two. I was twenty two. The summer before I joined the BAU.” He sighed as he spoke, not thrilled to be sharing this part of his life with Luke. 

It was unfounded, given that it was probably the happiest time of his life. He wasn’t quite sure why he didn’t want his friends to know about it. 

There was something about keeping the memory pure, not having it sullied by outsiders. That secret summer belonged only to the two people who had lived it. 

“I didn't peg you for a journaler.” Luke shrugged. 

“I’m not usually. I don’t really know why I kept a diary that summer.” 

That wasn’t entirely true. He’d kept a record of those days in case, for whatever reason, his memory failed him. If something happened to cause his brain to forget, that was one time in his life he wanted to ensure he’d never lose. 

And since his mothers diagnosis, it was an entirely real possibility that one day he may forget. There were many moments in his life he’d like to be able to neglect, his drug addiction, Gideon’s death, prison; but the summer of ‘02 was not one of them. 

In truth he’d forgotten all about the journal. It wasn’t until his mothers move to DC when he’d been going through old boxes of her stuff that he’d found it. 

“Can I read it?” Luke’s smile turned cheeky, he already knew what the answer would be but he was just trying his luck. 

As expected, Spencer scowled, grabbing the diary and holding it close to his chest as if he believed Luke might try to snatch it from his desk.

“Absolutely not.” He wrapped it tightly against his body. 

“Ooh there’s some juicy stuff in there.” Luke chuckled.

“Don’t be crude.” Spencer scoffed but his cheeks started to redden, conveying the truth. 

“Oh man, I’m right aren’t I?” Luke’s laughter grew. 

It increased in volume enough to grant the attention from the others who had been silently working away at their desks. 

“What’s going on?” JJ perked up, her blonde head of hair appearing behind her computer monitor. 

“Reid’s got a sex diary.” Luke spoke over his shoulder to the whole bullpen.

“I most certainly do not.” His cheeks burned with his embarrassment and he shrunk a little in his chair. 

“Reid? Spencer Reid?” Tara stood from her desk, eyebrow cocked in her blatant confusion. “No way, I don’t believe that.”

“Good, because it's not true.” He held the journal closer to his chest. 

“He’s hiding something in there, there’s a reason he won’t let me read it.” Luke scoffed. 

“Did it occur to you that some people don’t enjoy sharing their entire life story?” Spencer grumbled.

By now JJ and Matt were on their feet too, and the three other agents closed in on his desk. He was thankful at least Emily, Rossi and Garcia were in their respective offices. He shrunk lower in his chair, wishing he were able to simply vanish into thin air. 

“Oh he’s definitely hiding something.” Tara folded her arms across her chest, eyebrow still raised in a combination of suspicion and delight.

“So what if I am? I’m entitled to my secrets.” Spencer complained. 

“The last time you kept a secret from us you ended up in prison.” JJ’s shoulders slumped, wincing a little at her own words. 

“This isn’t…it’s not like that.” He shook his head. “It’s just memories okay? Memories of a great summer I had before I joined the bureau and I’d like to keep them to myself.” 

“Oh it’s totally a sex diary.” Matt chuckled heartily. 

“For the love of…” Spencer trailed off, pushing himself to his feet and tucking the journal under his arm. “I really don’t want to talk about this. Can you please just respect my privacy for once? I know how hard that is for you guys.” 

“Ouch,” JJ pouted. “Sorry for caring.” 

“Jennifer, we both know this has nothing to do with you caring about me.” He clucked, pushing past the gaggle of his friends and marching out of the bullpen. 

He felt them watching him, muttering under their breaths as he walked away. He hurried down the corridor out of view until he pushed his way into the men’s bathroom. 

He slumped into a stall and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet. Placing the old leather bound diary in his lap he ran his fingers over the cover. 

He didn’t know why he’d let himself get so worked up over a stupid journal. Except it wasn’t stupid, far from it. It was his collection of memories from a life he wished he could go back and relive. 

The twenty two year old who’d put pen to these pages was naive and innocent, his whole life ahead of him. The boy he’d been back then didn’t know of the horrors he was yet to face. It was a much simpler time and he wanted to be able to cling to that without his friends being involved. 

For fourteen years his team had been privy to every moment of his life, good and bad. Was it so wrong that Spencer wanted to just keep this one thing to himself? 

He huffed out a staggered breath, wishing not for the first time that just cared a little less. It made sense when he was younger, he’d been green when he joined the FBI and the team had treated him with kid gloves, probably rightfully so. But he was a grown man now, older and more worldly, he didn’t need them treating him like a child.

He cracked the spine of the journal, opening it up to the first page and continued caressing the worn page with his fingers. The diary began at the end, retrospectively writing of his adventures during the last week of that summer when he realised he didn’t want those memories to escape him. 

August 29th 2002

Here in this diary I write you visions of my summer, it was the best I ever had…that unspoken feeling of knowing that right now is all that matters.

Here in this diary he had meticulously journalled everything that transpired during his last few months in his hometown and how those moments had changed his life forever. He cautiously turned the page, careful not to tear the aged paper. 

He felt the heat rising, the sun high in the sky. He became aware of the somewhat blistering concrete beneath him, the occasional sound of passing cars. He could make out the scent of sunblock in the air, chlorine from nearby backyard swimming pools. 

Brushing his digits across the page he was transported away from Virginia, away from the bathroom on the sixth floor Quantico office. As he closed his eyes, the Las Vegas summer stretched out before him.

June 2nd 2002

The temperature edged over a hundred two days ago and the AC hasn’t worked in three years. Really need to sell the house, I must look into that when I get to DC. Mom hasn’t lived here since I sent her off to Bennington and this was the last summer I’d be needing it. 

It was cooler to sit outside, despite the humidity, it was preferable to the stuffy house with no AC. I planned to go to the library, basking in its glorious air conditioning unit but after stepping outside and immediately feeling the sweat gathering all over my skin, I decided against walking for five miles in this heat. 

And boy would I be glad for that decision. 

I’m not sure what it was that tore my attention away from the Great Gatsby that morning. I had this feeling, this inexplicable feeling running through my veins and forcing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand to attention. 

And when I looked up, there she was. It was as though she was floating, drifting so effortlessly across the street I was sure her feet didn’t touch the ground. She regarded me curiously, most people did. She was unblinking, a slow and cautious smile building on her lips. 

I simply stared back in awe at this angelic creature heading my way, never letting her gaze falter from me. I was stunned into silence as she approached up the front path, head tilting to the side as she analysed me. 

She invited herself closer, up the three concrete stairs before dropping to the top step right next to me, opening her mouth and inquisitively speaking…

“What are you reading?” You smiled at him in what you hoped to be an amicable manner, but nonetheless his back straightened as if you posed a threat to him. 

“Uh…” he swallowed thickly, his Adams apple bobbing. “Me?” 

“Yes you.” You laughed. “Who else would I be talking to?” 

The peculiar man looked around like he expected someone else to be sitting on his stoop with the two of you. He scratched at the back of his neck nervously. 

“I don’t…I don’t know.” He rolled his chapped lip between his teeth. 

“I’m Y/N.” You shook your head, still laughing a little at his obvious awkwardness. 

“Sp-Spencer.” He stuttered. 

“Nice to meet you, Spencer.” You nodded curtly. “I’m house sitting for my aunt for the summer, what’s good to do around here?” 

Her smile could have lit up the whole night sky, her laugh the sweetest sound I’d ever been lucky enough to hear. She was summer, she would still be summer in the dead of winter. She was magnetic, effervescent. 

She was the first drop of rain after a long drought, she was those first few seconds in the morning when you wake up where you momentarily forget all of life's problems. She was…

“Reid, you in here? We got a case.” Luke’s voice broke him out of his revere, eyes flickering off of the page up to the closed stall door. 

“I’ll be right there.” He croaked, closing the diary again. 

He closed his eyes and inhaled until his lungs were full. He counted to five in his head and listened for the door to close before he slowly exhaled. He repeated the action three more times before he trusted himself to stand. 

He swore he could still smell your perfume as he forced his way out of the bathroom and back to reality. 

***

June 14th 2002

All the nights we stayed up talking, listening to 80's songs. It still brings a smile to my face. 

Her aunt's house, which I came to learn was just up the street and had a new, state of the art AC unit fitted. The next two weeks we spent nearly everyday there listening to her favourite songs on the old stereo, most of which I’d never heard before. 

The likes of Van Halen, The Cure, AC/DC and The Pixies played on repeat while she quizzed me on my life and I on hers. She was from San Francisco and her aunt was on vacation so she’d offered to house sit for the summer. She was a year younger than me at twenty one and fresh out of college with no idea where she was heading next.

I kind of envied her, she was a free spirit, she could go anywhere she wanted, do anything she wanted. And for whatever reason, she chose to spend her summer with me.

You hummed along to the music, Where is My Mind by the Pixies encompassing the room. You laid on your back on the couch, your feet in Spencer’s lap and the AC sending its cool waves towards you.

You cradled the blunt between your fingertips, every now and again raising it to your lips and sucking on it. The room was filling with smoke, the smell of it alone enough to make Spencer a little light headed. 

“You sure you don’t want any of this?” You spoke with a lungful smoke. 

“I’m good, really.” Spencer smiled his tight-lipped smile you’d grown accustomed to the last few weeks. 

“It would be out of your system before you start your big government job.” You giggled. 

“It’s not just that.” He shook his head. “Smoking marijuana at our age while our brains are still technically developing can affect IQ. A study showed that those who started smoking pot before twenty five lost six to eight IQ points by middle age.” 

You sat up on your elbows, your eyebrows deeply furrowed at him.

“You think it’s really going to affect your life so much if you lose a couple of IQ points, Doc?” Your lip quipped up into a smile. 

“I don’t want to risk it.” Spencer noted your slightly bloodshot eyes. 

You took another long drag, the sound of the paper crackling as it burnt filled his ears. You breathed it in before slowly exhaling the smoke out into the room. 

“Hmm,” you hummed in content, dropping the half smoked blunt into a little glass dish on the coffee table. “Now I feel light as a feather.” 

“You could get that feeling in many other ways. The main psychoactive ingredient, THC, is simply stimulating the part of the brain that responds to pleasure. It’s releasing dopamine which is what’s giving you that euphoric feeling.” He told you almost sternly.

You cocked an eyebrow at him, sitting up further so you could get a good look at him. 

“Pleasure, huh?” You clicked your tongue. 

“Yeah,” he swallowed. “It’s the same way you would respond to food or…”

“Or?” Your lip twitched.

“Other pleasurable activities.” He swallowed again, his cheeks turning slightly pink. 

You swung your legs off of his lap and shuffled closer to him on the couch. You saw him swallow yet again, noticed his chest heave with a deep breath. 

The closer you got to him the more you could feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves and you dared move so you were straddling his lap. 

Your knees pressing either side of his thighs, you wrapped your arms around his neck and a hagged breath left between his pouty lips. His cheeks were a deep crimson colour now and from this position in his lap you knew exactly why. 

“Spence?” You whispered as he looked at you in embarrassment. 

It would be painfully obvious from where you were sitting that he was aroused and he felt so incredibly vulnerable in that moment. 

“Yes, Y/N?” He croaked. 

“What other pleasurable activities are you talking about?” 

“I think…I think you know.” 

“Hmm let’s pretend I don’t.” You smiled coyly. “After all, I’ve probably knocked off a few IQ points right? What other pleasurable activities?” 

You rolled your hips a little in his lap and Spencer mewled at the sensation. This was the closest he’d ever come to having someone other than himself touch him and he felt dizzy. He felt so dizzy that when he spoke, he wasn’t sure he’d even meant to let the word slip off his tongue. 

“S-sex.” He breathed, the smile on your face growing in approval. 

“Well now, that does sound more appealing than smoking.” You edged your face closer to him, rolling your hips into his lap once more. 

He smelt your perfume and the pot on your breath. He felt like his skin was on fire and he couldn’t form a coherent thought. 

A moment before you lips touched his, the sound of a phone ring cut through the room and you sprung apart suddenly. 

Spencer remained sitting on the couch while you ambled over to the landline. He watched you go, half wondering if he’d imagined the whole thing. 

But the erection still visible through his slacks begged to differ. 

***

He returned the journal to his satchel as the jet came into land near Dallas. He knew word of his mysterious diary had reached Emily and Rossi and the whole team had been watching him read on the flight. 

He tried to cast his memories to the back of his mind and focus on the case, people were being murdered and that had to take precedence over his nostalgic thoughts. 

Emily sent him and Rossi to the morgue and Spencer tried to pretend he was focused on a case file while Rossi drove them. He could see the older man looking at him in his peripheral vision. 

Thankfully Rossi did not ask him about the journal even though Spencer knew he wanted to. 

It was in the back of his mind all day and after he retired to his hotel room and showered, he found himself thumbing through to the next page. 

July 1st 2002

Breaking into hotel swimming pools, and wreaking havoc on our world. Does it make me completely dumb that I would follow her to the ends of the earth? 

I knew it was a bad idea, but I just can’t say no to her. She said she had something fun planned and so like an idiot I came along. 

I didn’t say anything when we jumped the fence. It was around eleven pm and all the lights around the pool were out, the stars and the moon reflecting on the still water. 

I still didn’t say anything when she started stripping down to her underwear, mostly because it rendered me speechless. The sight of her in nothing but that skimpy black lace lingerie caused me to forget my own name and I’m sure I just stared at her slack jaw. 

It’s been a few weeks since I think she tried to kiss me and she hasn’t said anything about it. I’m starting to think I misread the situation entirely. 

At least I was, until she stripped off her clothes by the side of the pool and curled her finger at me, beckoning me closer.

“You fancy a dip, Spencer?” Your voice was breathy and he followed your motion to come closer. 

“Uh, won’t we get in trouble?” He padded forward all the same. 

“Only if we get caught.” You giggled, reaching for him as soon as he was close enough. 

You gripped him by the lapels of his shirt to tug him forward before your fingers glided towards the top button. He stared at you without a word while you effortlessly popped the buttons one by one. 

Once you’d gotten the last button undone your hands moved to his shoulders and you helped push the fabric down his arms until it dropped to the floor. 

He was painfully skinny but it didn’t stop him from subconsciously sucking in his small stomach. Your eyes grazed up and down his torso, taking in every inch of skin.

He felt hot beneath your gaze despite the fact the temperature plummeted at night. He felt self conscious, not worthy of your eyes on him. But when you met his gaze again you were smiling. 

When your hands landed on the button of his slacks his breath hitched and his legs wobbled slightly. You giggled again, a sound that had become Spencer’s favourite melody over the past month. 

You made quick work of the button and zipper before hooking your fingers in the side of his pants and shimming them down his legs. 

Spencer stayed still and silent while you undressed him until his pants pooled at his feet and he kicked off his converse so he could remove them completely. 

His hands darted in front of him, trying to hide the exceedingly noticeable tenting in his tight boxers. He could tell you knew what he was trying to hide by the playful smile now on your lips. 

It was an all too regular occurrence around you. You only had to glance at him a certain way and he would be standing at full attention. It wasn’t his fault, you were unfairly beautiful. 

Suddenly you turned your back on him, floating as you so often did towards the pool. Before Spencer’s brain could catch up you were diving into the still water, causing ripples to roll out across the pool. 

A few droplets splashed up onto his face and chest. While you were submerged he moved closer to the edge and slipped into the cool water before you could have a chance to scrutinise his body again. 

When you emerged you wiped your hair off your face and found Spencer in the pool, leaning back against the wall. The water wasn’t too deep but he crouched down so it was covering him up to his chest. 

You waded towards him, eyes sparkling from the moonlight. He pushed himself back against the side of the pool, his nerves written all over his face. 

“Everything okay, Doc?” You asked as you neared him. 

“Fine, just fine.” He nodded stiffly. 

“You sure about that?” You cocked an eyebrow at him, moving dangerously closer. 

“Hmm mmm.” He tried to insist but you weren’t buying it. 

Your eyes were dark by the time you were right in front of him, almost black. The smile on your face was sinful and it made Spencer’s knees weak. 

No one had ever looked at him the way you were looking at him at that moment. He may be naive but he knew exactly what that look meant. And as if to prove that point, your right hand disappeared under the water and seconds later it was palming him through his underwear.

A pathetic whimper left his lips at the contact even though there was a layer of wet fabric between him and your hand. 

Your smile grew at his reaction, your other hand now moving to grip his shoulder. Spencer’s arms remained at his sides, his breathing already heightened. 

“Spencer?” You whispered. “Has anyone ever touched you like this before?”

He rolled his lip between his teeth and shook his head dispondantly.

“No,” he confessed. “I, uh, I’ve never even…kissed anyone before.” 

He felt the heat spreading to his cheeks and he was painfully aware of your hand still palming him. Your smile turned a little sad, pitying almost. 

“You want to change that?” Your voice was quiet, barely a whisper. 

“Y-yes.” He nodded. “Yes p-please.” 

“So polite,” you stepped even closer. “Such a good boy.” 

When your lips finally touched his, he whined against them, feeling an explosion of emotions in one simple action. Your tongue easily made its way into his mouth and your hand moved from his shoulder to the back of his head. 

You kissed him fiercely, exploring his mouth with hunger. Spencer didn’t do much of anything, simply stood limply while you kissed the air from his lungs. 

He continued to whine against your lips when your hand started moving around his shaft. His hips started to rock against you of their own accord and he so desperately wished there wasn’t a piece of fabric in his way. 

As though you could read his mind your hand shifted and your fingers trailed across his stomach just about the waistband of his boxers. He moaned deeply and you pulled back from the kiss, a questioning expression on your features.

“Can I?” You panted as you spoke, nodding your head downwards. 

All Spencer could do was nod dumbly in response. 

You smiled before leaning in to kiss him again, somehow more ferociously than before. When your hand slid inside the sodden material of his boxers and wrapped around his length an animalistic moan erupted from his lips, swallowed down in your own mouth. 

Your small hand couldn’t quite reach all the way around his thick shaft as you started moving up and down on it. His hips started bucking harder than before, telling you he enjoyed it. 

His brain was mush, he couldn’t form a single coherent thought except how phenomenal your hand felt. His lack of awareness allowed him a little more confidence and he finally moved his arms, his hands finding your face and holding you while he kissed you. 

You smiled against his lips, the water started to lap around your bodies with your movements. You kept up a steady pace as you stroked him while removing one of his hands from your face. 

He let you guide his hand over the planes of your body until it was situated between your legs. He inhaled sharply, having to tear his lips away from yours. 

You were both panting as you looked at each other, his breathing staggered due to the way you were touching him. His hand was still between your legs, ghosting outside of your panties.

“You…you’re sure?” He breathed erratically. 

“Very.” You nodded, increasing your speed and eliciting another feral moan from Spencer. 

“I…I’ve never done this before.” 

“You strike me as a quick learner.” You smirked. 

“F-fuck…” he mumbled. “I…I am.” 

“Make me feel good, Spence. Be a good boy for me.” 

Your words of praise made him hiss, bucking hard into your hand. It was enough encouragement for him to inch your panties aside before his fingers slid beneath the fabric. 

You were surprised to say the least when one of his digits quickly found your clit and started rubbing it deftly, as though he’d done this hundreds of times before. 

Your eyes widened and your mouth fell open, your grip on him faltering for a second at the sensation. 

“Fuck…” you whined, trying to focus on your strokes. “You…you sure you’ve never done that before?” 

“P-positive.” He nodded, his knees buckling as he felt precome leaking from his head. “S’good?” 

“So good, baby. So good.” You crashed your lips together again as he increased his speed, rubbing your sensitive bud like he’d been doing it his whole life. 

You squeezed the base of his shaft before matching his speed with your strokes. You were moaning into each other's waiting mouths, water frantically lapping around your bodies. 

You whined when his finger disappeared from your clit but soon two of his digits were swiping through your folds. When you felt them pressed against your entrance, begging for access, you nibbled on his bottom lip and squeezed his cock again telling him to continue. 

You moaned in unison as his two long, slender fingers entered you. Spencer felt as though he might pass out at the sensation as his fingers pushed all the way inside of you. 

He felt your shift and move around him, your walls fluttering against his digits. That combined with the way you were frenziedly pumping him caused his stomach to tighten with the telltale signs of his impending orgasm. 

“Oh my gosh you feel so incredible.” He whined, plunging his fingers deeper inside you. 

You felt him twitching in your hand, still lazily rocking into your touch. 

“Are you close, baby?” Your thighs squeezed around his hand. 

“Y-yes.” He admitted, fingers coniniting to move in and out of you, desperate to give you as much pleasure as you were bestowing upon him. 

“Come for me, Spence. Come for me.” 

He whimpered again, the pressure building in the pit of his stomach and he couldn’t hold back any longer even if he wanted to. 

With a staggered moan his hips jut forward as he came in the pool, while you stroked him through his first orgasm not at his own hand. 

***

In a hotel room just outside of Dallas, Spencer narrowly managed to move the journal out of the way just in time for him to spill his load over his own hand. 

He fell back against the lumpy pillows, breathing heavily and his hand still slowly moving up and down his spent shaft. 

He glanced at the diary through hazy eyes and shook his head, removing his hand from his cock and wiping his seed on the bed sheet.

He swore he could feel your hand there even after all these years, feel the water splashing around his naked torso. 

He could feel you around his fingers, the way you clenched tighter as you came not so long after he did. 

He could still feel the weight of your body as you fell against him in the pool, head nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you panted heavily into his wet skin. 

Things had been so much simpler then, he sometimes yearned for those days. A part of him wished he hadn’t found the journal in the first place then maybe he wouldn’t have found himself sucked down this particular rabbit hole. 

Despite the memories swarming his brain he fell asleep without even cleaning himself off, one hand on his rapidly beating heart and the other clutching the battered diary. 

***

July 4th 2002

Lighting fireworks in parking lots, illuminates the blackest nights. Cherry cokes under this moonlit summer sky. 

I suggested going to an organised event for the Fourth of July celebrations but she insisted that we have our own. 

She brought a ton of fireworks, it was a wonder she didn’t blow a hand off that night, fumbling to light them whilst dragging on a blunt.

But I simply watched her from the back of her aunt’s old VW Camper, sipping on my coke in absolute awe of her every move. 

Since our pool escapades the other day, every time I look at her I get chills. Every time I catch sight of her I think of the way she felt as she touched me, as I touched her…

She hasn’t even so much as kissed me since and I’m partially wondering if it was all a vivid dream. At least I was until tonight. 

You sauntered back over towards the open back doors of your camper where Spencer sat cross legged on a blanket. 

Seconds later an array of fireworks erupted in the sky over the abandoned parking lot, the sounds and the colours a feast for the senses. 

But you weren’t watching them. You were watching him. 

You crawled into the back of the van, right into his lap, straddling him as you took a long pull on the joint. You inhaled the smoke and tossed the butt over your shoulder before placing your hands on his shoulders. 

When you kissed him the smoke filtered out of your mouth and into his but he didn’t care. His arms wrapped around your waist while your tongues explored each other's mouths. 

You guided him backwards so he was laying down, his cock already fully erect and pressing against you. You laid on top of him and continued to kiss him fiercely. 

His hands found purchase on your back, gently holding you close. You were grinding against him causing him to moan into your mouth and squirm beneath you. 

He knew where this would inevitably lead if he let it. He wanted to, he didn’t exactly relish the idea of being a virgin forever and you were the first woman to ever show him this kind of attention.

But he didn’t want to just be another guy to you. He didn’t want to just be a quick lay you’d forget all about. And inevitably that’s what would happen.

It wasn’t something the two of you talked about often but at the end of summer you were going back to San Francisco and he was going to DC. If he slept with you that’s all it would ever be. And he didn’t want that. 

You continued to kiss him and grind against him but his intrusive thoughts got the better of him and all the blood that had previously been flowing south rerouted itself. He didn’t even realise until you sat back and looked at him curiously.

“Is everything okay?” You breathed heavily, lips slightly swollen from the kiss.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” He frowned up at you. 

“Uh…” Your eyes flicked down towards his crotch at the same time he realised he was completely flaccid. 

His cheeks burnt and he cursed his overactive brain. 

“I’m sorry.” He shook his head, trying to sit back up. 

You slid off of his lap and sat next to him while he drew his legs close to his body. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to do this. I’m sorry if I come on a little strong.” You shrugged meekly. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I just…I don’t want to lose my virginity to someone I’m never going to see again once summer is over.” He cringed at his own words, at how needy and sad he sounded. 

Your expression turned pitying and it made him feel even more stupid. 

“I get it.” You smiled softly. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

“It’s kinda hard not to be.” He buried his head into his knees and hugged his arms around his shins. “I’m sure most guys, normal guys, would jump at the chance to be with a woman as beautiful as you. No one’s ever looked at me the way you do, I was always so much younger than my peers so it made sense. I wasn’t waiting or anything, not deliberately. But now the opportunity has presented itself, I don’t think I’m the casual sex kind of guy. God that sounds so lame.” 

You were smiling to yourself at how adorable he was. With his face against his knees his words were muffled but you caught the gist of them. 

You shuffled closer to him and placed your hands on his cheeks, guiding his face back up so he would look at you. 

“I think that’s kinda noble.” You whispered.

“I think the word you’re looking for is sad.” He huffed. 

“No, it’s not.” You let go of his face. “I understand, Spencer. I wish I’d waited, I wish I’d waited for someone like you.” 

He let you wrap your arms around him and he leant against your chest while you held him. Off in the distance fireworks continued to illuminate the sky, the far off sound of their explosions a strange comfort. 

***

Spencer rubbed his eyes with his palms somewhat aggressively after almost an hour of staring at the map of their unsubs hunting ground. 

Despite falling asleep quickly last night his peace had been short lived and he’d woken less than two hours later and couldn’t get back to sleep. 

He didn’t know why he was letting the diary affect him in such a way, shouldn’t it have the opposite result? Those entries were from the best days of his life, but maybe it served as a reminder that he could never go back to that time.

He wasn’t that naive kid anymore, he’d suffered one too many traumas in his life to ever be that kid again. Back then his most difficult decision was whether or not to have sex with a beautiful woman. He longed to have such trivial problems. 

He’d felt so stupid after the night of the fourth of July he had avoided you for two weeks after. He’d wasted what precious time the two of you had together feeling idiotic over his decision to turn you down and hidden out in the public library just to circumvent any further interaction with you. 

He turned to face the room, realising he was alone in the small meeting room. Last he checked JJ and Luke were at the table going over files, when had they left? 

He frowned to himself, reaching for his satchel and pulling the journal out, flipping to the next page. 

July 19th 2002

Being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up, these are the best days of our lives. The only thing that matters is just following your heart, and eventually you'll finally get it right.

He closed his eyes with a shake of his head. Wasn’t that the painful truth? He’d written that particular entry with a smile on his face like the cat that got the cream. That date had been the best of his whole whirlwind summer. 

After stewing in his stupidity for two weeks he had shown up at your aunt's house unexpected and uninvited. You’d barely let him inside before he’d kissed you. And it wasn’t long at all before he was leading you back to the couch. 

“Spence, what’s going on?” You panted, looking up at him from where you laid on the couch. 

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” He was fumbling a little with the buttons of his shirt, hands noticeably shaking. 

“But I thought…you said you didn’t want this? And then you don’t talk to me for weeks and now you-”

“I was overthinking, I do that a lot. But I don’t want to overthink this.” He finished unbuttoning the shirt and dropped it to the floor before climbing on top of you and kissing you again.

“You’re sure?” You mumbled against his lips.

“Extremely.” He replied.

He snapped the journal closed before he could get carried away. He didn’t exactly go into graphic detail of what transpired on your aunt’s couch that day but it was certainly not safe for work material. 

He didn’t need to read the words anyway, he’d memorised everything about that day. He learnt by heart the way your skin felt against his, the way the two of you melted together as though your bodies somehow became one. He’d retained every little detail of how you felt, every tiny movement of your body as he’d made love to you. 

He couldn’t forget even if he wanted to. 

Just as he was slotting the diary back into his satchel, trying not to get caught up in the blissful memory, the door opened and JJ strolled in carrying two take out coffee cups. She smiled at him, handing him one of the drinks. He smiled at her in thanks.

Her eyes flitted to his open bag and the diary nestled inside. When she looked back at him she had an amused expression on her face.

“So, sex diary, huh?” She chuckled lightly.

“It is nothing of the sort.” He rolled his eyes.

“Alvez is convinced otherwise.” 

“Well Alvez doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Summer of oh-two right?” She narrowed her eyes on him, the way she did when she was trying to profile him.

“Yeah.” He took a sip of coffee. 

“Wasn’t that-”

“Yes.” He cut her off. 

The summer I met the love of my life. 

He’d told JJ snippets from that summer, she was the only one who he’d ever told. She knew as much as he’d met a wonderful woman who he’d lost his virginity to and over the course of a summer had fallen in love with her. As far as he knew she’d never told anyone. 

“So why has it gotten you so tetchy? I would have thought you’d like to relive those days?” She slid into one of the chairs sipping her own coffee but her scrutinising gaze stayed on him.

He let out a haggard sigh, taking a seat next to her and using his free hand to swipe his hair back off of his face.

“Do you ever feel like the best days of your life have passed you by?” He found himself asking. 

JJ’s expression softened, a melancholy smile adorned on her lips. She sat forward slightly in the chair.

“Is that really what you think?” She placed a gentle hand on his knee and she felt him tense up at her touch.

“Maybe, I don’t know.” He wiggled his nose, a gesture he did when he was uncomfortable. “I guess I just miss being that carefree.”

“Spencer Reid, carefree? Can’t picture it.” JJ laughed around her cup.

“Fine, maybe not carefree.” He chuckled too. “But not…this. I’m worried I’m never going to bounce back from prison. I went to therapy, I took the medication, I should be over it by now.”

“Spence, you have PTSS, that doesn’t just go away. You know as well as I do, probably better, that the symptoms can be managed, that it can remain dormant for months, even years. But the trauma you suffered is what evoked your PTSS and that doesn’t leave you. You’ll probably always be dealing with it in one way or another.” JJ squeezed his knee before Spencer moved out of her touch. 

He knew what she was saying was right and that’s what made it harder to hear. PTSS was something he would always live with, something that could always be triggered in the future. He’d created coping mechanisms, dealt with his trauma but it didn’t make it go away, it would never just vanish into thin air. He could never undo the damage that had already been done. 

“I thought reading that journal would help me feel like my old self but it’s having the opposite effect. Because I’m never going to be that kid again.” He shook his head sadly. 

“And why would you want to be?” JJ scoffed.

“Excuse me?” He frowned at her.

“Spence, I knew you at twenty two. You were painfully shy and awkward. It took you years to be able to look me in the eye. You’ve changed so much in the years I’ve known you and that’s not a bad thing. You’re better at your job, you’re a better man now than you were at twenty two, you have to see that?” She hoped her words were getting through, hoped he would listen to her before he fell into a self pity spiral he may never get out of. 

He exhaled shakily, taking another sip of coffee while he tried to come up with a response. But he didn’t have to, as soon the door was opening again and Luke entered the room. And Spencer quickly jumped up and returned to his map, effectively shutting down any further conversation on the subject. 

***

August 6th 2002

Hanging out at truck stops, just to pass the time. Watching the slew of cars fly by on the freeway, eating bags of chips while she tossed stones out into the rolling desert beyond us. 

“Remind me again why we’re here?” He asked you as you flung another stone off into the distance. 

You turned to face him, both sitting in the gravel, leaning up against the side of the truck stop building. 

“Why not?” You quipped. 

“There are countless other more interesting things in Las Vegas than sitting at a truck stop. You’re only here a few more weeks and I thought you wanted to see the city?” 

“I have seen the city.” 

“You’ve seen abandoned parking lots, old motel swimming pools and the inside of your aunt’s house.” He shook his head. 

“Hmm,” you mused. “I have been very acquainted with her ceiling these past few weeks.” You winked at him and his cheeks immediately burned at the insinuation. 

It wasn’t a lie. The last couple of weeks the two of you had barely left your aunt’s house in lieu of making the most of each other's company whilst wearing as few clothes as possible. 

Spencer wasn’t strictly complaining about that, sex with you was one of the wonders of the world and he’d happily do it for the rest of his life. But he was painfully aware of what little time you had left together. 

“It’s a pretty good ceiling.” He swallowed thickly, having had his own share of experiences in which he was staring at that ceiling too. 

You giggled and it was literally music to his ears. You tossed another stone before suddenly getting to your feet. 

Spencer followed suit, brushing the dirt off the back of his slacks. You had a mischievous glint in your eyes as you took hold of his hand and started leading him around the side of the building. 

“Where are we going?” He asked, not that it really mattered. He’d long ago realised he would follow you anywhere. 

“You’ll see.” You giggled again, giving his hand a squeeze. 

He followed you inside a grimy and slightly dilapidated bathroom, eyebrows furrowed deeply in confusion. 

When you let go of his hand and locked the door, his stomach coiled into knots and his cock immediately started to come to life. 

“Y/N?” He breathed. “What are we…why are we…?” 

You laughed and took him by the hand again, leading him into a stall. The door was coming off of its hinges and the tiled floor was dirty and cracked. You didn’t seem to notice. 

You pushed him up against one of the walls in the stall and started kissing him with ferocity. He kissed you back, trying to ignore the stench of a bathroom that was long overdue for a good clean. 

He didn’t really have much time to dwell on such trivial things however as soon as you were dropping to your knees on the filthy floor and looking up at him through your lashes. 

The simple action had him standing at full attention, his stomach tightly coiled. He’d dreamed of what it would be like to have you go down on him but never imagined it would happen. 

He was too polite to ask and too innocent to assume. But it hadn’t stopped him from imagining it countless times. 

You smiled at him, toying with the button of his slacks and chewing seductively on your lip. 

“Is this what you want, Doc?” You breathed. 

“You have no idea.” He nodded somewhat frantically. 

“Be a good boy and say it for me. I can’t read your mind.” You teased. 

The idea of dirty talking in any way would have normally freaked him out but it had become clear to both of you early on that when you called him a good boy he’d do just about anything. 

“P-please,” he whined, bucking his hips. “Please s-suck my cock.” 

You hissed at his words, teeth sinking deeply into your own lip. 

“Oh you’re so good, Spencer. Such a good boy for me.” You popped the button as a reward. 

“Your good boy.” He agreed with a whimper. 

“My best boy.” You smirked, tugging his pants and boxers down to his knees in one swift move. 

He gasped as the stale air hit his erect cock and pushed himself back against the stall wall. You ran your tongue along your bottom lip as your index finger ghosted up and down the throbbing vein that ran the length of his shaft. 

His knees were already quaking, desperate to feel your lips wrapped around him. Thankfully he didn’t have to wait much longer as soon you bowed your head, parted your lips and took his head into your mouth. 

His eyes rolled back in his head in an instant and the sounds coming from his lips could only be described as feral as you slowly took him all the way in your mouth. 

He yelped when he hit the back of your throat, partly through pleasure and partly through fear he might hurt you. He knew he wasn’t exactly small, not quite so naive as to be blind to the fact he was sporting an above average sized package. 

But to your credit you didn’t even so much as gag and when you looked up at him through your lashes again, nose buried in his pubic hair, he swore you were smiling. 

***

At the back of the jet Spencer tried to rearrange his satchel in his lap to disguise his growing erection from anyone who might pass him by. The mere thought of that day you’d given him his very first blow job was enough to make him strain at the front of his slacks. 

The case in Dallas was wrapped up in just two days despite Spencer’s lack of concentration and he was so pleased to be heading home. 

He closed his eyes, resting his head back against the headrest and trying not to think about that day but failed miserably. 

Getting to come while he had sex with you was incredible, of course, but being inhibited by condoms always left him feeling a little incomplete. But the feeling of coming down your throat, having every last drop of his arousal swallowed down while you smiled at him was out of this world. 

He whimpered a little under his breath, his cock throbbing in the confines of his pants. He grit his teeth together hard and opened his eyes in an attempt to focus on something else. 

August 29th 2002

Here in this diary I write you visions of my summer, it was the best I ever had…that unspoken feeling of knowing that right now is all that matters…

“What are you doing?” You sing-songed, dropping yourself next to him on the couch. 

“Just writing.” He hurried to close the journal before you caught sight of anything.

“Writing what?” Your eyes were sparkling playfully at him. 

“Memories. I want to remember this summer.” He shrugged, hugging the book to his chest. 

“You have an eidetic memory, dork.” 

Three days later, on September first, you’d been leaving Vegas, waving to him from the rear window of the bus taking you to the airport. 

***

September 1st 2002

I don’t know why but some reason I genuinely thought this summer might never end. Time is just a construct right? Maybe this summer could last forever. 

More logically, or maybe less depending on how you look at it, I think I actually thought she’d stay, come with me to DC. I asked her to, although I don’t think she realised I was being serious. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Just writing.” 

“Writing what?” 

“Memories. I want to remember this summer.” 

“You have an eidetic memory, dork.” 

“I know, I’m just scared for this to end. I…Y/N I have fallen in love with you. Don’t go back to California, come to DC with me instead.”

She’d simply laughed as though I’d told the world's funniest joke, patted me on the shoulder and said, “oh wouldn’t that just be the dream, Doc?” 

That was three days ago and she hasn’t brought it up since and neither have I. And today I helped her with her bags to the bus station so she could leave me forever. 

Get on the bus, it's time to go. 

“I am gonna miss you, you know, Doc?” You toyed with his lapel, the sweetest of smiles on your face. “I had a way better summer than I planned for.”

“M-me too.” He croaked, stupidly feeling hot tears brewing behind his eyes. 

“Don’t be sad, you’re leaving for Quantico next week. Your dream job, remember? You're going to be saving lives and kicking ass. You’ll forget all about me.” You smiled. 

“Doubtful.” He huffed. 

The engine of the bus roared to life behind the two of you and your smile turned a little sad. You breathed out before leaning in close and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“You have to forget me, Doc. Summers over.” You whispered against his lips and before he could reply you were turning away and sauntering to the doors of the bus. 

His heart constricted in his chest, tears encompassing his vision. Nothing about this was fair even though he’d know all along you’d be leaving. It didn’t make it an easier pill to swallow. 

He rubbed his eyes heavily before your face appeared at the back window. You were still smiling but if he didn’t know any better he swore your own eyes were filled with tears. 

The sound of the doors closing caused his chest to tighten further. This was it. It was over. You were leaving. 

As the bus rumbled into gear and started forward, you waved to him and his tears broke free. He raised his hand and waved back while they rolled down his cheeks. 

He stood on the sidewalk waving as the bus started its journey, watching as the only woman he would ever love was cruelly taken away from him. 

***

He rolled his neck as he ascended the stairs to his apartment after a long metro ride home from Quantico. He freed his keys from his satchel, fingertips brushing over the worn leather cover of the journal as he did so. 

He’d never be that innocent twenty two year old again. But was that really such a bad thing? Maybe JJ was right, he was better at his job, he was a better man now than he had been back then. Getting caught up in this wave of nostalgia was foolish.

Ultimately Spencer knew he wouldn’t go back to that age for all the money in the world. That summer might have been the best of his life, but it wasn’t as though his life had been terrible after that. Things sometimes had a way of working themselves out, the universe had its own plan for everyone. 

And despite the trauma thrown his way, the universe hadn’t been entirely merciless towards him. 

He found himself smiling for the first time in days as he slotted the key in his apartment door. He’d been thrown a lot of curveballs in his life, dealt a hand that no one person should have to tackle alone. 

But then he never really had been alone, had he? 

He turned the key and pushed open the door, the light from the lamp next to the couch illuminating the room in the homely glow he loved so much. 

The smell of freshly brewed coffee met his nose, wrapping him in its warmth. He smiled brighter, kicking off his shoes and hanging up his satchel. He pulled out the journal and cradled it under his arm. Then he turned towards the couch and the body sat upon it, his smile grew tenfold. 

“Welcome home, Doc.” 

Get on the bus, it's time to go. 

He continued to wave dumbly as the bus got further away, tears streaking down his cheeks and he feared they may never end. 

He even kept waving when the bus came to an abrupt stop, even carrying on when the doors swung open and you appeared on the sidewalk. 

He finally lowered his hand when you started running towards him, tears rolling from your eyes and a frantic expression on your features. 

“You meant it didn’t you? When you asked me to come to DC with you, you meant it. You meant it and I knew you did but I laughed because I was scared.” You spat out, speaking so fast all your words rolled into one. 

“I did mean it.” He croaked, scared to reach for you in case you vanished in a puff of smoke. “And I also meant it when I told you I love you.” 

“I, uh…” your voice cracked and you scuffed your toe on the concrete. “Would it be utterly crazy if I did come with you to DC?”

“Probably.” He nodded. “Realistically we barely know each other. We might come to find when we learn more about one another that we don’t actually like what we find. Take me, I’m neurotic, I’m a neat freak, a germaphobe. I own too many books, my hair’s too long, my tie is perpetually crooked, I’m-”

“Spencer?” You chuckled through your tears, cutting him off of his rant.

“I ramble when I’m nervous.” He sighed. “But I do know that I love you. And I’m almost positive that I will love every little thing about you, most likely for the rest of my life. So it is probably crazy of you to come to DC with me, but I hope you do it anyway.”

“Spence?” You smiled, wiping at your tears. “I love you too, and I’m positive I will love every little thing about you too. For the rest of my life.” 

Spencer let out a shaky breath of relief and wiped his own tears moments before you fell into his arms and kissed him more fiercely than you ever had before. And you both knew no matter how crazy it was, it also made absolutely perfect sense. 

“Good to be home, angel.” He kissed you, wrapping his free arm around your waist to hold you close. 

He always did that, despite how many years it had been. Regardless of the fact you’d now been together since you were twenty one years old and he was twenty two, in spite of the fact you’d married him, he always felt the need to keep you as close as humanly possible as though afraid he may lose you like he almost had all those years ago.

“Missed you.” You mumbled against his lips. 

“Missed you more.” He replied.

When he broke away from you, your eyes landed on the diary and you laughed, tugging it free of his grip. 

“JJ called me this morning and said you’d been pining over this thing.” You ran your fingers over the worn cover. 

“Best summer of my life.” He smiled as the two of you sank to the couch. 

Spencer wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you nuzzled against him, still toying with the old diary. 

“Mine too. But we can’t live in the past forever. And I don’t know about you but I’m pretty happy right here in the present. And I’m certain our future is going to look pretty damn good.” You took his hand in your free one and brought it to your lips so you could place delicate kisses on his knuckles. 

He’d been so sure as he watched that bus pull away that he would never see you again, that he had lost a piece of his heart forever. The summer of ‘02 he had met the love of his life and he had counted his lucky stars every day that he was also the love of yours. 

You’d stayed by his side through every hurdle. You’d helped him get clean after his addiction which could have torn the two of you apart, held his hand through every single NA meeting and soothed him through withdrawals.

You’d gone to every doctor's appointment with him while he was suffering from debilitating headaches, dried his tears when he thought Emily had died and held his hand at the funeral. You’d felt his anger towards JJ and Hotch when Emily came back from the dead. 

You’d done the same when Gideon died, when Morgan left the team and then Hotch. You’d visited him every day in prison and told him on every visit that no matter how long it took you would be waiting for him when he got out. 

“Until death do us part, Doc. I didn’t take our vows lightly.” 

He held you closer, trying to communicate to you just how much your love and support had meant to him over the years. 

“Have I ever thanked you for getting off that bus?” He sighed in content. 

“Only every single day since.” You giggled, still after all these years his absolute favourite sound in the world. 

He laughed with you, holding you impossibly closer and breathing in the scent of your perfume he still loved so much. 

One summer had turned his whole life upside down. One glorious summer changed everything. That summer and the memories the two of you had created would forever live on, even without that old journal. But you were right, he couldn’t live in the past forever, nor would he want to. His present was as close to perfect as it could possibly be. 

And even in the coldest depths of winter, you would always be the summer of Spencer Reid’s heart. 

Here in this diary I write you visions of my summer, it was the best I ever had.

[velvetm00light]

Drunken Confessions

gif: pinterest dividers: @benkeibear, @mariariley, @haerinism

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: drunk&dom!Spencer Reid x sub!Female Reader

Summary: After a night out at the bar, Spencer drunkenly tells his coworker, Y/n, how he feels about her. She's shown the side of him no one knows as they go to his apartment together and show each other exactly how they feel.

Warnings: Alcohol, PinV, fluff, coworkers, domxsub, smut.

A/N: First attempt at a one-shot. This honestly went in a different direction than I actually planned for and I'm not mad about it. I hope ya'll enjoy. ;)

GLASSES CLINK NOISLY AS the Behavioral Analysis Unit team of the Federal Bureau of Investigation cheers each other over the too small wooden table inside their favored bar for after-work drinks. They had just gotten back from a particularly gruesome case and all agreed to try and let loose for the night. They even managed to get their innocent boy wonder, Dr. Spencer Reid, to tag along.

Music thundered around the bar, y/n's feet feeling the vibrations through the hardwood floor beneath her. It was almost impossible to hear each other over the music, so they all had to result to either yelling or not using their words at all.

JJ basically jumps from her seat and yells across the table, "time to dance!" Y/n, Emily, and Penelope wasted no time rising from their seats and rushing onto the dance floor, the boys decidedly choosing to stay at the table.

Emily has made the point multiple times before that they reason they all choose not to dance is most likely because they're embarrassed of their dancing skills and it might just kill them to make a fool of themselves in front of strangers. Even though Morgan swears he actually dances like a "sex god" per his own words, he is perfectly fine sitting his married ass down and sipping on a nice cocktail.

The girls waste no time getting down to business on the dance floor as the boys at the table talk, well, more like yell, amongst themselves. Despite only having a single drink, in which he is currently still nursing, Spencer finds his eyes gluing themselves to y/n. The way she gracefully moves her body to the rhythm of the music, the flow of her hair behind her, stray pieces already beginning to stick to the nape of her neck and shoulders.

"Earth to Reid."

Spencer's attention snaps away from y/n's mesmerizing moves and stares at Morgan. A heat creeps up his neck and into his cheeks, feeling like a kid caught red-handed.

"Go dance with her. You're oogling her and I won't be surprised if you started to drool had I not said anything." Morgan was reveling in the fact that Spencer finally couldn't deny what the entire team pretty much already knew, a smirk on his face as he tilted his head in y/n's direction.

"Absolutely not!" Spencer cried, already feeling the second hand embarrassment. His too long limbs cause a great deal of trouble every time he's ever attempted to dance. He can't imagine making that big of a fool of himself in front of the girl he's been developing a crush on ever since she joined the Bureau.

"You've got to take life by the balls, kid. How do you expect her to know you're pretty much in love with her, if you tell her?"

"What? I'm not in love with her," Spencer argues, knowing damn well his actions rat him out as a total liar.

"Fine, have a few more drinks and then let me know how you feel." Morgan gets another round of drinks and pushes two new, full rum and cokes in front of Spencer. "Try not to take an hour to drink these, kid."

Deciding he could actually do with some liquid courage, he downs the first drink. The instant burn of the heavy handed pour sliding down his throat causes a war within his stomach and he instantly regrets it. He's not used to alcohol and alcohol definitely does not tend to agree with him. But hell, who is he kidding? He might be better off getting so drunk he finally tells her how he feels and doesn't remember doing it to save him from the embarrassment likely to follow.

Y/n and the girls are in the middle of a pretty heated dance battle together when Spencer stumbles onto the dance floor.

"Do my eyes deceive me or is wonder boy coming to dance with us?"

The women immediately stop their dancing and turn towards where the man himself is carefully weaving through the crowd towards them. "I thought I might join you guys,"

"Please do!" Y/n shouts over the music. The women instantly resuming their dancing and Spencer immediately feels at ease. He's unsure if it's the multiple rum and cokes he downed just a few minutes ago or if it's because the women begin dancing like lunatics without a care in the world. He joins in without hesitation.

They all dance the night away together, y/n and Spencer laughing with each other as they sing and dance together, him spinning her across the dance floor, and on occasion them getting so close he almost took the risk to kiss her.

As the night gets darker, the bar gets emptier, and swear pours down their entire bodies, they finally make their way back to the table.

"You looked great out there, kid." Morgan chuckled, sipping the last of his drink.

"I think this was the best night of my life," Spencer smiled. For a brief moment, y/n and Spencer's gazes caught each other and they shared wide, toothy smiles. The tension between them so palpable you could cut it with a knife. As if realizing it, the rest of the team says their goodnights and leave y/n and Spencer to their own devices at their littered table.

"I'll drive you home," y/n suggests, fishing into her purse for her keys as they make their ways toward the parking lot. "Before you ask, no I'm not drunk. I haven't even been able to touch a drink most of the night because I was obviously too busy getting down and dirty."

Spencer smiled down at her, "Thank you, I would appreciate that very much."

They climb into her car together, and Spencer instantly heats up at the proximity and the fact that they're alone. As she starts up her car and focuses on pulling out of the bar parking lot without hitting drunk pedestrians, Spencer is compelled by the very essence of her. His eyes greedily roam over her from her lush, lip glossed lips to her sweat slick hair sticking to her neck, to her perfectly formed nose. He drinks in each and every one of her features, truly unable to find a single flaw on her.

The short, red dress she's dressed in hugs her curves perfectly, her long legs teasing him as they move back and forth from gas pedal to brake and back again. Desire courses through his blood and feels as if it might boil him from the inside out if he doesn't act upon it.

"You know what's crazy?"

"What, Spence?"

"I've had a crush on your for years and I've been way too scared to tell you." He bursts into a laugh and y/n's breath catches in her throat. She doesn't even consider allowing herself to believe he's telling the truth, because out of all people, why her?

"You're drunk, Spence."

"You know what they say, drunk words are sober thoughts."

Her whole body tingles as her grip tightens on the steering wheel. Her core feels molten at the desire pooling at the bottom of her stomach as it has been all night. Even when he was dancing like an absolute goof, he was still the hottest man she's ever seen in her life. The entire night, all she could do was wish the moment would last forever, Spencer spinning her across the dance floor, their faces being inches away from each other. She almost gave in and kissed him every single time she could feel his panting breath on her face.

"I mean it, you know. Ever since you joined the Bureau, I've just had this...pull to you. You're seriously the most mesmerizing, brilliant, generous, exquisite woman I've ever met in my life. I ache to be near you every single time you leave. I ache to kiss those beautiful lips every single time you talk, or when you bite your bottom lip when you're nervous, or when we'll sometimes accidentally get so close to each other it almost just makes sense to grab you by the chin and kiss you."

Y/n is dazed after his revelation. Her heart begins to beat so rapidly in her chest she swears it might just burst through her ribs and out of her body completely. "I-Are you sure you're not just drunk, Spence?"

"Oh, I'm drunk. But I'm just saying the things sober me would have never said in a million years," he smiles at her. She catches his gaze for a moment, wide-eyed and absolutely dumbfounded, before quickly returning her gaze to the road in front of her. "I was always afraid you would never feel the same, and I guess the suffering of never telling you how I felt was a better option than telling you how I felt, you not feeling the same, and then our entire friendship is ruined. I don't think I could bear losing you."

"Spence.." Y/n chokes out. "Let's talk about this inside."

She swiftly pulls into a parking spot outside Spencer's apartment and they both rush inside. As y/n shuts the door softly behind her, she whirls around and almost slams into Spencer.

Before she can do anything, she's backed up against his apartment door, his hands above each side of her head, trapping her. "This doesn't make you uncomfortable, does it?" He asks softly.

"No," y/n manages to breathe out.

"Good, then hopefully this doesn't either."

Before she can ask what he means, he greedily crashes his lips into hers. A small moan escapes her lips as he takes her bottom lip between his teeth and tugs roughly. The opening of her lips gives Spencer the chance he was hoping for and she readily accepts his tongue as hers dances along. The kiss between them is greedy and hungry, the built up tension between them finally snapping.

She's pushed completely into the wall by Spencer's towering body. He bends down slightly, reaching for the back of her legs. He pulls her off the floor, and wraps her legs around his waist without breaking the ensuing passionate kiss.

She feels his body move beneath her as he grinds up into her. A whimper escapes from her and passes into Spencer's mouth which only causes him to grind against her center again, his arousal evident.

She removes her arms from around his neck and fumbles for his belt. She swiftly unbuckles him and pulls out his hardening length. She slides her hands slowly up and down, teasing small moans from his lips.

Before she can even react, he's pushed the hem of her dress up to her waist. He finally breaks the kiss and says, "How wet do you think you'll be for me?"

"Why don't you check for yourself," she purrs, attacking his lips, their tongues once again battling for dominance.

He groans at the pleasure and the desire in her reply, wasting no time pulling her panties to the side and sliding a finger between her lips. "God, you're so wet for me," he breathes in her mouth before tugging on her bottom lip once again.

He removes her hands from him and slams her hands above her head, his hands on her wrists to keep her from budging. "Are you going to take it like a good girl?" He murmurs.

"Yes," y/n manages to get out.

"Yes, sir," he scolds.

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl."

Without another word, he lines up underneath her and gently pushes into her core. He can feel her throbbing against him as he eases into his movements. "Oh my god," she whimpers. Spencer releases her swollen lips and trails kisses down her jaw and neck as he thrusts hungrily into her, his hands solid against her wrists.

He releases one hand from her wrist and commands, "Do not lower your arm."

"Yes, sir."

He lowers the neckline of her dress, exposing her breasts taut from the desire coursing through her. He sucks on the skin of her breasts, leaving his marks along her chest. He takes her nipple into his mouth, using his tongue and teeth to play with it, perfectly mixing the right amount of pain with her pleasure.

He pounds into her harder as he works her nipples. Her rising climax becoming almost unbearable.

"Don't cum unless I give you permission."

"But-"

"You heard me."

"Yes, sir."

Y/n's body moves in tandem with his as if their bodies unconsciously know this dance together between their sweating bodies. His thrusting doesn't cease or stutter, the euphoric feeling of him perfectly hitting her aching spot sends her eyes rolling.

"Please," she chokes out. Her head pushed back against the door, her back arched off the door as if instinctively reaching out for Spencer's body. Spencer releases the nipple in his mouth and returns his ravenous gaze to hers.

"Come for me, baby."

Their lips join together again as he pumps harder, the both of them chasing their releases. She can't help but cry out at the ecstasy that overtakes her as she falls over the edge, Spencer following with his own.

Y/n's entire body trembles against the door, both of their breaths heavy and mixing with each others.

He lets her down gently from the door. "How about we take a bath and wash up," he suggests, need written all over his face. Y/n nods, her legs threatening to give out beneath her.

Spencer helps her into the bathroom, smiling at himself for being the reason she can barely walk. He wastes no time getting a bath started and they lower themselves into the tub without waiting for it to completely fill up.

She moans as the hot water soothes her muscles.

"Relax all you want right now because I'm not done with you yet."

[oneforthemunny]

scorcher |dom!eddie munson x brat!reader|

prompt: from the #munnysummergame I decided to write one of my own lol. kick off the writing challenge bc it's so fun, and I had this idea lol.

☀️- eddie comes home to see you sunbathing...topless ;) can be dom!sub! if you'd like, or sweet smutty goodness. whatever you'd like it to be! have fun with it!

contains: 18+ minors dni. dom/sub themes, voyeruism, nipple play, nipple clamps, language, restraints (bandana), spanking, p in v sex.

It was hot.

Too hot for Hawkins, Indiana. An unheard of heat wave that left the midwestern town muggy and humid, scorching with the kind of heat that had you hustling towards the AC, sitting in front of box fans and cooling off.

Eddie's trailer was a sauna, the AC unit old and rickety, not doing much to combat the unusual rising temperatures. Eddie wiped his brow, already stripped down, loose t-shirt hanging around his neck. Even with the blasting AC in the music store, Eddie had gone through nearly an entire stick of deodorant, dabbing napkins and paper towels in between guitar tune ups and lessons to keep himself from sweating through another shirt.

Everyone in the trailer park was tucked away, sprinklers still spraying water, yet there were no kids squealing about, far too hot for anyone to be out. No one, except you.

Lying on the grass on a spread, faded beach towel, you lied on your tummy, arms propped up and skimming the magazine beneath you. The shiny pages reflected in the sun, hot to the touch with each careful flick of your wrist, but Eddie wasn't concerned with that; oh no.

His attention was brought to your naked top, breasts hanging onto the towel, nipples barely covered by your folded arms. You were practically exposed; topless, on his front lawn.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, baby, are you serious?" Eddie huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You tilted your head up, lip tucking between your teeth in a glinting little smile, shades falling down the slope of your nose teasingly. "Hi, baby," You purred, flipping another page with a hum. "How was work? I missed you, handsome."

Eddie was less impressed with your sheepish smile, areoles peeping up from their place on the towel, becoming more and more exposed with every rise of your chest. He rolled his tongue down the side of his mouth, eyes cutting around him. He'd told you to behave, pressed a sweet kiss to the side of your head, muttering to your sleeping frame to have a good day, be a good girl for him; but you never were.

It had been a while since the two of you really played. More than just a few playful slaps and threatening words. You'd been patient, he'd give you that, even though he knew it was coming soon- the inevitable bratty break. He supposed with the heat mixed with your frustration, today was your breaking point.

"What're you doin', huh?" Eddie grit, hands on his hips, his shadow covering your body.

You tilted your chin up at him, frowning lightly, like you couldn't possibly imagine why he was upset. "I'm just getting some sun, Ed." You sighed contently, pulling your shades down the slope of your nose. The raise in your arm off the towel gave Eddie a full view of your exposed chest, pebbled nipples that left him blushing, and not from the Hawkins' sun, for once.

"Why don't you join me, baby? Lookin' a little pasty. Some color would do ya good." You grinned, settling back down onto the towel.

Eddie snorted, shaking his head. His curls were pulled back in a low bun, bangs sticking to his furrowed brow. "What're you doing out here with no top on? Your tits are out." Eddie flung a hand towards you, ringless because they kept swelling in the heat.

You looked down at your exposed chest, lips rolling when you looked back up at him. "Hm, well, I didn't want tan lines, baby. They look so ugly when I try to wear those little dresses you like." You purred.

Eddie knew what you were doing, and he was damned to not let you know, even if his cock was lurching at the thought of you in that tight, leather dress he loved so much- always ruined you in it.

"Can you put some lotion on my back, Ed?" You asked simply, moving to grab the pale pink bottle discarded carelessly in the grass. "Don't wanna get burnt and red." You held it up to him, right boob fully exposed to him and whoever else was lurking around.

Eddie snatched it out of your hand with a grow, catching your own wrist with it. "Oh, something's gonna be red soon, honey. Get up."

You tried to bite back your grin, barefeet padding through the grass, stepping over dandelions and rocks, Eddie's hand holding your wrist in a vice. "Ow! The steps are hot!" You jumped back on the steel steps of the trailer, bouncing from toe to toe.

Eddie rolled his eyes hard, setting his foot on the bottom, spread so his other held the door unlatched. Ever the gentleman, even when he was about to punish you. You bounced on the smooth, white tops of his Reebok's, letting his hands grip your naked waist to steady you while you avoided the hot metal inside.

"Get in front of the couch." Eddie growled, a firm slap to your ass while he shut the screen door with a low groan.

Your body was covered in goosebumps, nipples hardening at the cool air from inside the trailer. You knelt obediently in front of the couch, resting back on your thighs, hands on top of your thighs. You tracked Eddie with your eyes, squirming slightly at the menacing look he gave you.

"You think this is funny? Laying topless where anyone could see you?" Eddie snapped, brow raising.

You huffed. "There wasn't anybody out-"

"-That you know." Eddie sneered. "What is Mrs. Hall's kids came out, saw you topless, and then you're getting a public indecency charge? Or that creep Frank coulda been spying on you? And I'm not here."

Your heart deflated slightly, excitement draining out of your system gently. You hadn't thought of that, truthfully.

"I'm sorry, Ed." You said genuinely, eyes wide and sorry when you met his. "I was just..."

Eddie lifted a brow. "Just what? Tryna piss me off?"

You paused. "Well, yeah, not piss off but... I just wanted to play!" You whined, hands slapping the top of your thighs gently. "I thought you'd think it was fun!"

Eddie's eyes bulged. "You thought I would think you showing your tits off to the neighborhood would be fun?" Eddie scoffed. "If you wanted to play, you shoulda just asked. Not go topless and parading around outside."

Your lip jutted, cheeks heating at the chastisement. "I wasn't parading." You mumbled.

Eddie's brow raised, eyes narrowing at you. "Enough, alright? Any more out of you and I'm gagging you. That what you want?"

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest with a shake of your head. Still so bratty. Eddie shook his head. "Arms down. You know better." He snapped, flinging through the cabinets of the kitchen. You wondered what he was looking for, too scared to ask.

Eddie shoved something in his pocket, stomping down the hall towards his bedroom. You craned your neck to look, listening over the loud hum of the air conditioning for any sign of what he was getting. You knew it would probably be the paddle- or worse, the cane.

Eddie came back in with his bandana, paddle-less and cane-less to your surprise. His eyes stayed on yours, holding your gaze in his menacing one before sitting in front of you. "Stand up." He ordered, that firm, commanding tone he always slipped into when he was punishing you.

You squirmed but scrambled to your knees, letting him pull you in between his legs. "Turn around." Eddie patted your hip gently. "Put your hands behind your back."

You obliged, touching your wrists together before he tied them with the bandana. You grinned at the choice in restraints, lack of cuffs meaning he was going to go easy on you.

Eddie pulled the knot firmly, satisfied that it would keep your wrists bound. His eyes lingered on your bikini bottoms, riding up into the crack of your ass, teasing him with the cheekiness of the cut. He'd been with you when you bought them, modeling them in the dressing room before he joined you, diving tongue first into your pussy.

"Better take these off, don't ya think?" Eddie muttered, hands tracing up and down your exposed hip, grinning at the way you shivered. "Don't think we'll be needing these."

You shook your head in agreement, rolling your lip between your teeth at the delicate pull of the strings, falling down your legs easily into a puddle on the green carpet.

Eddie's hands rubbed up and down your exposed flesh, squeezing at your hips, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear. "You just wanted to show off, hm? Wanted to show everyone what's mine?" He asked, voice low and gravelly.

You whined, shaking your head. "No, Ed." You whined, keeping your head forwards, eyes trained on the wall. "Just didn't want tan lines, promise." You muttered.

"Promise?" Eddie's voice lilted, pulling back. You could feel him behind you, fishing for something in his back pocket. "You know you were just trying to get me upset. Being bratty and throwing a fit, weren't you? You wanted me to get upset with you, didn't you? To punish you?"

You shook your head, though your thighs clenched at the thought. "No," You sighed heavily, his hand smoothing up and down your tummy, cupping your boobs barely before running back down towards your aching and exposed pussy.

"Hmm," Eddie hummed lowly, his pinky barely swiping over your slit, leaving your knees buckling at the touch. "I think you're lying to me."

"That's alright, baby." Eddie cooed before you could huff and retaliate. "I'll teach ya a lesson, don't you worry. I'll give you exactly what you want."

You felt something hard trail up your sternum, dropping your chin to look before Eddie's hand caught your jaw. "Eyes forward." He snapped.

Your heart pounded, unsure but obediently following Eddie's command. You felt the foreign object trail all over your hot skin, up and down your tummy, your under boob, around your nipples.

"You wanted to show off your pretty little tits for everyone, hm?" Eddie growled, his nose brushing your temple. His free hand moved to your boobs, cupping them before thumbing over your nipples, rolling the nubs until they hardened and stood perk and erect for him.

"You want to show them off so badly? Why don't you show them off like this?" Eddie grit, before your body jolted.

The clamping sensation of a clothespin biting and snapping onto your nipples had the breath leaving your lungs, a new and uncomfortable sensation. The smooth wood was firm but not unbearable, not like the metal ones Eddie saw at the sex shop. The mouth of the pin clamped onto your budding nipples, holding onto them with tight pressure that had you wanting to rub them desperately, dull aching that sent shockwaves straight to your core.

You gasped, Eddie fixing the other one on your nipple, moving so he could see your face. He grinned, taking in your scrunched expression, unpleasant at best, bouncing from toe to toe like that might alleviate some of the pain.

"Hurt?" Eddie asked, tilting his head to the side. You nodded. "Good. Bend over." He plopped down on the couch, pulling you over his lap, careful of the makeshift clamps you tried to rip off.

You were dangling forward, hands tied tight behind your back, Eddie's hand over your hip, holding you firmly into place. His hand rubbed over the flesh of your ass, squeezing your right cheek hard enough to pull a yelp from you.

"Oh, you know that didn't hurt." Eddie mocked you, cooing and mean, leaving you blistering with embarrassment- throbbing from his tone. "But this," Eddie brought his hand down, an upward sweeping motion that cracked down on your ass, leaving you lurching forward with a small gasp. "Hurt. Didn't it?"

You whined, wiggling against his grasp, the steady burning building on your ass mixing with the pulling and dull ache from the clothespins that came with every squirm.

"You were so bad, today. After I worked all day? And this is what I have to come home to." Eddie shook his head at you, flattened palm zeroing in on your hot cheeks.

"'M sorry, Ed!" You panted, hips wiggling just right against his right knee, your core rubbing against his leg.

"I don't think you are, honey." Eddie tutted with a heavy, dramatic sigh. You cried out at the two sharp hits the the top of your thighs, the crease of your ass. Oh, he knew you were gonna cum from this, he had to. If it was a real punishment, he'd stick to the fatty parts of your ass.

"I think I should take you outside. Spank ya out there, since you want to go around flashing everyone." Eddie hummed, tongue poking out. His eyes bounced back and forth, following his hand that smacked the juicy skin around with every harsh spank.

"Maybe make you go stand out there with those hands tied. Whaddya think, baby? Show everyone what happens to bad girls around here?" Eddie hissed.

You knew he wouldn't, far too possessive and not necessarily wanting to have to explain to a cop that this is what you two did- a sex thing. Yet the threat left you pulsing, grinding down further and further on his leg.

"You'd like that wouldn't you? Like everyone to see what I do to you? How I handle you, hm?" Eddie purred in your ear, another stinging slap to the center of your ass, leaving you clenching around nothing. You were sure you were dripping down your leg now, coated in your own stick arousal.

"Want everyone to see how I punish you, hm? How I keep you in line when you're such a bad girl?" Eddie growled, two punctuating slaps to your ass that had your head reeling. The clothespins were brushing against his leg, only aiding in the tight, mean tugging that had you crying out.

"Yes! Please, Ed, please!" Eddie was sure you didn't even know what you were begging for, something- sensation, no doubt. For him to let you cum, and he would. Just not that easily.

Eddie pulled you off his lap abruptly, setting you with a small bounce onto the couch. You hissed at the pain, at the lack of friction, the burning feeling on your ass and nipples.

Eddie stood, furiously pulling down his pants and boxers. "Over the couch. Over the couch, now." He growled, eyes dark and blown. It made you shiver, scrambling to bend over the couch.

Eddie rode you, one hand gripping your bound hands, the other slapping your ass and pulling your makeshift clamps, pounding you out furiously over the back of the couch. You felt suffocated in the heat, Eddie's body and your own covered in sweat while he rutted into you, like a dog in heat.

The inside of the trailer went up a few degrees, thick and steamy with the tangy smell of sweat and your release, but neither one of you seemed to mind.

[leqonsluv3r]

liquid courage

infinite darkness!leon x f!reader

summary: reader worries about leon, she goes over to check on him. they end up drinking from there...and things get heated.

warnings/tags: MDNI, foul language, porn with (very little) plot, drunken behavior, mentions of alcohol, age gap (reader is 24, leon is 36 (my lore is probably wrong, dont kill me pls), dom!leon, sub!reader, unprotected pnv action (wrap or don't slap it), pet names (baby, babygirl), daddy!kink, oral (f recieving), praise, dirty talk, hickies and bruises, humping/grinding (reader literally cums in her underwear LOL). mentions of pain during seggs, and other foul stuff i forgot.

an: chat.ai got me all worked up, so here we are. sit back and enjoy pls and ty. also pls roblog <3 and lmk if u wanna be in my tag list.

You and Leon had a complicated "relationship".

He was your next-door neighbor in the loft building that had many, upon many units. He never rarely said anything to you ever, just occasional "hi's" and "hello's" in passing. Just to be polite, neighborly even.

There were times though when you would catch him looking at you as you went out in the hall to go somewhere, you two bumping into each other, he would scan your body...almost eye-fucking you.

Or maybe it was just in your imagination, you weren't ever sure.

Still, the thought of him fucking you for real...made your panties pool with want and need. If just his eyes could do that...you couldn't imagine what else you were missing out on.

You knew that he was always almost never home, probably working or something. You had your suspicions that maybe he was spending time at a girl's place or that he was occupying someone else's time.

You had barely said a word to the man, yet, that thought made you jealous and almost predatorily angry. Because you just knew, the way he walked and the way he carried himself...that he knew what he was doing.

He did have his moments, where he broke the silence. One day, he knocked on your door, holding a package out to you.

Not just any package...a vibrator.

Dear god, you wanted to coil up into a ball.

"I think this is yours..." he said, sticking out his large hand that held your sex toy. He didn't even look embarrassed...like you did. Cheeks all red and flustered, staring dumbly as he held out the package to you.

You couldn't stop staring at his hands, the one that held your package. The thoughts of what he could do to you with those hands made your pussy flutter, naughty images filling your brain.

You finally got words out, "Uh, y-yeah...that's mine." you reached out slowly and grabbed the package from him, your fingers brushing. Electric jolts to your body and the small contact. He smirked a little, eyeing you (like he would sometimes do), "Boyfriend not satisfying you?"

Holy fuck, you thought as you parted your lips a little.

"N-No boyfriend..." you nervously stutter out as you feel his eyes grazing your body. He hummed, nodding slowly, almost confirming his suspicions.

"Thats a shame..." he starts trailing off. "Pretty girl like you, should have a boyfriend." He said with a tilt of his lips, your eyes widened a little and you tried not to let a gasp escape your pink lips.

You didn't even say anything, not until he said bye and walked back next door to his apartment. You watched him go, trying to process the words that he had said to you...the way he looked at you.

God, his gaze, you felt so hot underneath it. Like a reptile under a heated lamp.

You closed the door and walked back into the threshold of your apartment, ripping the box to the vibrator open and charging it while you still had the pool between your thighs.

That's where your crush started...you whiny and moaning under your toy as you thought of him fucking you. It was almost pathetic, he didn't even know you existed, yet you were coming undone on your own accord at the thought of him.

"Daddy...please..." you moaned to yourself, chanting it like a mantra as you came fast. It was embarrassing, thrilling and fun but you felt like a naive little girl with a crush on a man you could never have.

After that, you tried to get yourself involved in anything involving him. You found that harder than actually planned so you decided that maybe looking him up would be a good idea.

Just to know a little more about him.

You typed his name into the search bar, a thousand results popped up but only one interested you. ROOKIE COP UNDER SIEGE you read. The rest of the article was basically outlining a strange occurrence in Raccoon City...involving a younger looking Leon.

It was his offical police issued picture that he took and... He looked...so small and just...innocent. The other picture in the article was of him...but he looked different.

His mouth was pressed in a firm line, jolting blue eyes looking straightforward at the camera, then...his eyes. His eyes didn't look hopeful and full of life like they were in the other one you saw.

They looked...like he had seen something, witnessed something truly awful and you had no idea what. The article states that the incident was unreported and handed over to the government.

'21 YEAR OLD COP' it read...and that was years ago...that meant...he was 36 by now. A lot older than you...

And my lord, did he age well. Even at 36 he still had his looks going for him...and you knew that the age gap between you both was large but...you still wanted him.

You closed your computer and leaned back on the couch, you couldn't even do much except wait for him to show up or "conveniently" bump into him out in the hallway.

So, you just had to sit back and wait, wait until you saw him again or until your curiosity got the better of you.

Turns out, time was definitely not in your favor, not one bit.

Days passed, weeks, and eventually a month...

You thought you were never going to see Leon again, ever, he was always working or never home. You just wanted to see him, so one day...after getting off the computer from working all day, you decided to go next door and knock.

No harm, no foul...right?

You had just convinced yourself that you were doing the neighborly thing and going to check in on him.

You got dressed into a lavender lace underwear set, sliding on your favorite sundress. You brushed your hair out...you even shaved. You weren't expecting anything to happen but you just wanted to be prepared...right?

So you nervously walked out your front door and went next door, each footstep felt heavy as you stepped towards the oak. You didn't know if you should knock or...ring his bell...

Both made you feel like your heart was about to beat right out of your chest and catapult into the sky.

"I wonder..." you reached your hand towards the doorhandle, twisting it a little. You expected it to be locked and you'd just have to knock to see if he was home but...it opened and you gasped.

You walked into the apartment, knocking on the door as you entered.

And what you saw...shocked you a little.

Leon was resting on the couch, nursing a drink, a ton of other bottles were littered on the coffee table in front of him. You had no idea how much he had actually consumed but you stepped in and softly closed the front door behind you.

It felt wrong to be here, witnessing him like this, but curiosity poked at you so you stepped further in, going towards the living room where he was sat. He didn't even acknowledge your presence until you came up to the opposite side of the couch.

"What do you want?" his voice was tired and deep, gravelly as if he had been up for days. But god, he looked so damn good and you hated yourself for how your eyes scanned his face as he said it.

"I-I just came to check on you, your front door was unlocked." you say softly, motioning to the door behind you. Leon didn't say anything, he took another sip of his whiskey. "Seems you took happy hour a little bit too literal..." you laugh nervously.

He tossed back the remaining liquor in his glass and lazily looked over at you with dark eyes, "And what if I did?" his voice was sharp, he seemed bothered that you were even there to begin with.

Which you understood, you basically just walked in unannounced into his apartment. But...you were glad that you showed up when you did. He did not look his best and judging by the bottles littered on the coffee table, he had been at this awhile.

"You shouldn't be drinking alone, just saying." you commented, sitting on the arm of the couch. Your eyes scanned him as you waited his response. He spoke after a beat of silence, "Why not?" he pours more liquor into his glass.

"I got my own problems...and they aren't yours." Leon followed up, tossing some of his hair out of his eyes. He held the glass in his hand, sloshing it around and sending a small glare to where you sat on the arm of his couch.

You decide to take the moral high ground and not argue with him, "Because I want to help but you're being a stubborn ass...so." you pop out your lips and carefully take a seat on the couch next to him.

He leans forward as he looks at you, "and why do you even care?" he harshly said, taking another small sip of whiskey. That was a question, why did you care? You've always cared about people, but you were too stubborn to admit that that to him.

"I don't..." you said slowly. "You have made it obvious that I don't need to care about you." you mutter, looking away from him and at all the bottles sitting on the table in front of you.

Reverse psychology, works everytime. You smirk to yourself.

He leans back onto the couch cushions, eyeing you, "So if you don't care..." He trails off. "Why are you still here?" he asks with a stern tone, no harshness but just. Curiosity.

Because I wanted to check on you...and I want you to bend me over the table and rail me. You thought with a shake of your head, you could not say that...god, you sounded insane and...horny.

You just settle for, "It's complicated." as you lean back onto the couch, the dress pooling around your thighs as you do. "I do care...maybe...a little." or a lot, your brain corrects.

He sets his glass down, leaning towards you. "Well, if you care about me, get me another damn drink." He was being playful with his words, but his eyes still pierced your skin, all dark.

Disappointment pooled a little in your stomach at that, "That's all? That's all you want?" you blink at him. "Just more...alcohol..." you didn't let the disappointment in your eyes falter a little.

He speaks up as you adjust a little on the couch, "What do want me to say?" he takes another swig from his almost empty glass, looking over at you. "I'm an alcoholic...you want me to apologize? To say I'll change? Cause you and me both know that's a load of crap." Hiis tone sharpens as he says that, he scrunches his face up, almost wincing at his words.

"...you going to get me that drink?" he asks, his tone suddenly 10x calmer than before. You swallow and get up from his couch, "Fine. Whatever, doesn't matter." you clear your throat before going over to where his alcohol is sat on the counter.

You grab a glass off of the drying rack by the sink, an idea forming in your head. If you were going to be bold, best to have some liquid courage. So, you grab the glass and the other bottle of whiskey on the counter.

Leon was leaning back against the cushions of the couch, his hand running through his brown hair. When you come back into the room, you unscrew the lid on the bottle, not even looking at him, pouring some whiskey into his glass.

He sees her set down a glass too, as she sits down on the couch beside him. "Hey, uh, thanks." He looks at the drink and then back at you. You smooth the fabric of your dress out against your thighs.

Leon clears his throat, "You know what, how about we drink together?" He reaches out and grabs his glass, motioning towards the empty one you brought out. "Go ahead."

You don't need to be asked twice, he had taken the bait...or maybe he had planned this but deep down you doubted it. You take the glass, filling it up a little bit with the amber liquid.

You sigh a little, leaning back on cushions, taking a sip of the burning liquor. "Thanks."

He looks at your glass that rests in between your hand, on top of your eyes before they flit back up to your face. "So..." he fills the silence with his voice as you look over at him. "...What is this 'complicated thing' you have to say to me?" He quirks a brow at you.

I want you to absolutely ruin me...

You take another sip of the liquid as you look away from him, "Nothing, s' stupid." you say quietly, mumbling into your glass. The alcohol was starting to take affect a little bit. The small sips you've had burned your throat, but they urged you to stay sitting next to him on the couch.

He pauses then shakes his head, "No no," He looks over into your eyes. You look up at him as he talks, "you can't start a conversation and then back out." Leon takes another sip of his drink as he says this, eyes boring into you. His tone being playful and stern.

You rake a hand through your hair, taking another sip of whiskey.

"I can't even entertain the idea because...i'm 24 and you're...older." You admit bravely with a blush covering your face, taking a large gulp of the whiskey, throwing it back all at once. You felt his eyes bore holes into you as your heart almost pounds right out of your chest.

Leon stares at you for a beat and then shakes his head, "So?" he pauses and then speaks through a sigh. "Just because we got an age gap doesn't mean anything...unless you think I'm still dating high school girls."

You gulp, reaching forward and pouring more whiskey into your glass, then leaning back as he continues. "You think I'd try making a move on you?" Leon's deep blue eyes bore into your head as he's scanning your features, trying to read your reaction.

You blink a couple times, a blush still covering your face as you take a swig of the whiskey. "S' a little more complicated than that, Leon." you breathe.

Calm down, he's not gonna pounce on you, you think. But you would probably like it anyways.

"Well then, do you want to tell me, 'What's more complicated than that' or just keep beating around the damn bush?" He keeps glancing from his drink to you. Your breath stutters as you bring the glass back up to your lips, drinking another small gulp.

Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was you being truly bold but the next words you said put everything into motion for the rest of the night.

You inhale another gulp of air, looking over at him, trying not to look him directly into the eyes as you said this. "Maybe I've...thought about...you making a move on me..." you swallow.

"...and I've not entirely hated the idea." you admit to him, the silence of the room stretched around you and him as you said the words.

He pauses, you can see it out of your prochiral vision. "...What?" he says. Leon glances back down at his drink, his dark brown hair moving with him before he looks back up at you.

Raising a brow, he asks, "You're into me?"

And you swear your stomach might just fall out of your ass, you take a swig of whiskey, slowly. Shifting a little bit, crossing your legs so the fabric moves a little on your thighs.

"Well when you put it like that..." you sigh, looking down at the glass in your lap. "I might be...yeah." you admit.

"But it doesn't matter. Your older and you just...your way more mature than me and I'm just some stupid little 24-year-old girl with a dumb crush." You surprisingly admit, tossing back more whiskey. Your sober thoughts had started to come out the more you consumed his liquor.

You down the rest of the glass, waiting for him to say something beside you. You wouldn't dare look at him, he was so beautiful and just...god, you wanted him inside of you...

He swigs down the rest of his glass like you did only moments earlier. Leon rests both arms on the couch and looking up at you. His eyes were locked on you.

"I want you to answer me, honestly." His voice is slow and serious, stern. Almost like a father disciplining you, the thought of him ordering you around like that...it made your pussy throb for him.

"Yeah?" you ask, waiting for him to ask you whatever he needs to.

He steadies himself as he looks at her, responding, "Do you honestly think this can work? For a guy like me to start something with a girl like you?" Leon takes another sip of his alcohol as he looks at you again.

You listen to him speak, desperation and disappointment pooling in your belly as he talks. "...I work for a secret government agency, that no one knows about, I do...unsavory things for the good of this country and for people. I'm not the kind of guy you want to get mixed up with." He says slowly, warning you.

The message is loud and clear to you: don't start something you can't finish, especially with me.

Challenge accepted, you think.

"I know what you've done Leon..." you bravely say, looking at him with innocent eyes. "I'm not some naive girl, I've done my research." You toss more of the whiskey back into your mouth as you say this.

He looks up at you, his lips pressed into a thin line, he was trying to understand why you were defending him heavily. Leon was trying to even understand why you were over here in the first place.

He grips his glass a little, you watch him do this as he speaks again, envious of the glass in his hand.

"Then you also know the risks of being with someone like me?" Leon looks at you, scanning your body, his gaze dark. You swallow and slowly raise your glass back up to your lips, taking another sip of your drink.

He got you there. you think as you try to come up with a response that doesn't make you sound needy or desperate, even though you were.

But he didn't need to know that.

You press your thighs together, his gaze making want pool in your panties. "A-And what would I be risking exactly?" you say softly, your innocent eyes looking at him.

Leon exhales, tossing back the rest of his glass before sitting it on the coffee table in front of him. "Everything." he mutters. He pinches his brow as he leans back on the couch.

"You're 24, a damn kid to me, and if you honestly think it'll be easy sailing with me then just think...about all the ways that it could go wrong." He closes his eyes with a sigh, not out of frustration but out of the risk he would be taking...just to be with you.

His eyes scan your face for understanding, "If something happens to you...then I'd be the one to blame. Do you understand?" You blink and sit your glass down on coffee table next to his, releasing a breath.

You lean back on the couch, your back meeting the large cushions, yet again, and the heaviness that his words carried sobered you up. He trusted you with his secret, he was trying to make sure you were serious...that you weren't going to go running off on him.

He worked for the government, he told you and you realized that in that moment, he was probably not allowed to share such information. Especially, with you.

You did realize the weight of his words, what he was saying and trying to get you to understand.

"I'm...not a little kid, I know what I'm doing." You sigh, playing with the hem of your sundress, not daring to meet his eyes that were watching you with skepticism...almost wonder.

Leon nods, silently, thinking as he looks at the empty glass next to hers on the coffee table. "Why me? Why not someone your own age? Someone that doesn't work for the D.S.O?" he queries you with curious eyes.

You take a stuttering breath, admitting the truth. "None of the guys my age..." you start, trying to not let the alcohol fail you now. "...make me feel the way that you do...I don't know why but..." you shake your head as your face flushes, your eyes flitting up to meet his.

His eyes widen a little, if you weren't watching him so closely, you probably wouldn't notice the subtle shift. His tone shifts as he speaks, breathing out some air.

You watch him as he processes what you just said, looks like he had been slapped in the face. You almost want to take back your words, forget the pool in your underwear and leave but...then he speaks.

"You feel something...?" He trails off.

"Like what kind of...?" and you just press your thighs together and look at him with desperation in your eyes.

"I want..." you swallow. "You."

He doesn't say anything for a minute as he looks at you. Leon was processing your words, his eyes trailing down to your thighs that are pressed together, which just confirmed his thoughts.

You wanted this.

"I feel the same way..." He says, looking away towards his lap. You gasp a little at his words, your nerves still on fire. The alcohol buzzing through your body, making you feel electric at his eyes on you.

"But..." you didn't like the 'But', they were never good when spoken by a man you wanted.

"...just know what your getting yourself into..." His eyes return to yours as you bite the inside of your cheek, confusion at what he meant.

Did he mean in bed or...? because you could handle it. Or you would try for him...anything he wanted you would do.

Shamelessly enough, it made you aroused at the thought of him ordering you around. God, you just wanted him inside of you.

"As in? What?" you innocently ask, a knot forming in your lower stomach at the question.

Leon presses his lips into a line again, his harsh tone almost a bite as he speaks to you this time. You couldn't tell if he was just really impatient with you or if this was just his regular nature towards people.

"I already told you." He grumbles, leaning forward a little bit, elbows on his knees. "I'm not a good guy, not some knight in shining armor."

He shifts a little at this, continuing, "I do bad things for this country. Things that no one should have to do." The agent looks up at you, his eyes somewhat vulnerable. "Can you handle the things that I do?"

You just nod, vigorously.

Even though the thought of him having to kill people, kill things that were probably behind your comprehension. It scared you. But that was just the career he chose; it was his life, and he was the one to live it.

Not you.

His eyes turn dark in an instant, "Can you handle that part of me?"

You would be dripping on the couch by now if it wasn't for your underwear. You knew what he meant but the way he was looking at you with curiosity in his eyes.

It made you want him even more, if that was even possible.

You take a stuttering breath, your nerves getting the best of you, yet again as your cheeks flush, "I mean...I've...not run away yet? Right?" you let out a nervous laugh at this.

"Gotta mean something..." you offer him a nervous smile.

It almost looks ridiculous in your head, the way you're smiling at him as he just looks at you almost no emotion on his face. His gaze serious and his eyes dark, made you feel foolish and small to him.

As if what you said or did, didn't make any difference in the slightest.

Leon stares at you for a long moment, his eyes scanning your face, looking at your lips. The air is thick in the room, his breathing and yours taking up the sound.

Thats before he pulls you towards him, saying in an almost groan, "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this."

You land on top of him almost as your legs go either side of his lap, straddling him. He has you close now, exactly where he wants you. His hands planted firmly on your hips, pulling your face close to his.

You could feel his breath against your lips, you grabbed onto his shoulders, keeping yourself steady. Removing one of his hands off of your hip, reaching up to trace the large pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. You part them only slightly.

"How do you want me to handle you?" He smirks a little, his words only echos in your ears. You were practically leaking, sitting on his lap lightly.

The want in his eyes, he would melt you into a puddle on the floor if he really wanted to.

As innocent and as sweet as you can muster, you say, "However you want..." The alcohol was making you bolder, pushing you to say and do things that would make more sober you, blush red.

He lightly pulls down your bottom lip with his thumb, "Good. Because..." he leans closer to you now, slowly dropping his thumb away from your mouth. "I wanna do this." he whispers, pressing his lips to yours.

You hum into the kiss, not even wasting any time as you kiss him back in a daze. His lips were soft, even softer than you imagined, they felt good against yours.

His tongue teases your lips, you let him in, now kissing more messily and frantically. You were starved and he was feeding you, giving exactly what your touch starved body, desired.

"Taste so good, baby." He mumbles in between kisses, that only spurs you on more, pressing a bruising kiss too his lips. Leon groans against the kiss pressing you directly on to his crotch.

You felt his erection as you whimpered into the kiss, carefully rolling your hips against it. He felt so big and he probably wasn't even fully hard yet.

"What? Feel good? You like grinding down on my dick?" He whispers, pulling his lips away from you and moving them down to your jaw. The foul words made your stomach coil, you nodded as you pressed your clothed entrance against it again.

"God, baby, so needy." He sucks at the skin on your neck, making your pussy throb at his words. You keep grinding down on his dick as he groaned against your neck. "Fuck." you heard him say as you kept rolling your hips over his clothed erection.

"Feels s'good." You whimper, your voice breaking in desperation.

"I know, babygirl, fuck..." He groans as your hips keep up their unrelenting pace. He holds onto your hips for dear life as he keeps sucking and nipping at your neck.

You feel that coil unwind, feel yourself become closer as you release a soft moan, filling the air. Your hands hold onto his head, gripping his hair. "Leon..." you moan, pressing yourself harder on his clothed dick.

"What do you want baby? You wanna cum? Wanna cum for me?" He growls into your ear as you keep up the pace, feeling your stomach bubble. You bite your lip and nod.

"Use your words for me." He orders. You whimper and keep going, trying to find the words without releasing a moan instead. "W-Wanna cum for you d-" you stop yourself as you moan. Your eyes almost going wide at the word that almost slipped out of your lips.

"What was that? Couldn't hear you sweetgirl?" he teases, licking the sensitive part of your neck. You whine again, so close to your release, he grips your hips, stopping you from moving.

You almost cry, feeling your release just barely in your grasp. "What did you say baby? Be a good girl and use your words for me." he growls, holding your chin in his hands, forcing you to look at him.

You bite your lip at his hungry gaze, "Daddy..." you mutter.

His eyes don't widen and if he's shocked, he doesn't show it. You expected him to kick you out and to never see him again as you muttered it.

But to your surprise he looks up at you with hunger. "You want to suck on Daddies cock?" He growls, as you gasp and nod at his words. Not expecting him to just fall into your kink so easily, most guys are embarrassed to have you call them that in bed.

Most guys weren't Leon.

"Okay, baby, go ahead. Show me how good you feel." He releases the grip on your hips, letting you continue to grind against his clothed erection.

"Mmmm, want you so bad, daddy." you whimper as you keep rolling your hips down, harder, your release slowly building again. The friction was making you leak, probably dripping onto his dark jeans.

He groans, watching as your hips move over his. "What do you want Baby? My fingers?"

You shake your head, close to cuming in your underwear. "Want your cock, daddy. Been...wanting it...forever." You say through a moan. Keeping your assault against his hips.

"How long?" he grunts, holding onto your hips tightly as you move them frantically.

You lean back your head in a moan, the coil unwinding again, "Since...I first...saw you." you admit in a daze, letting your hands grip his biceps, probably drawing blood.

"Fuck...baby, if I knew you would've wanted this sooner. I would've just given it to you." He bites his lip in a whimper, he was probably about to cum in his pants. You were almost there, barely, you just needed his words and his touch for the coil to finally break.

You admit another thing, to get his attention as your fucking yourself against him, "I fucked myself to the thought of you..."

"How? Your fingers or..." he trails off in lust as he remembers a month ago when delivered that package to your door. How flushed you were as he stood there, eyeing him, and how you bit your cheek at his words.

"You fucking little..." he trails off in a moan, you roll your hips harder. "Fucked my vibrator, pretended it was your cock..." you moan again, rolling your head forward onto his shoulder.

You were reaching it, fast, you could feel it.

"Gunna cum, daddy, gunna cum." You whimper fucking your hips faster against his clothed erection. He has gripped onto your hips letting you come undone on top of him.

"Cum for me, baby." He growls.

"More, say more, so close..." You whine, into his shoulder.

Leon kept you steady as you rocked, trying to talk you through your impending orgasm. "Going to fuck you so good. You'll be feeling...it for days." he said.

"Oh god, daddy, yes..." you reach your peak, cuming hard in your underwear, basically ruined and soaked in your juices now. He softly touches your face, moving hair back behind your ear as you ride out your high against his erection.

Leon is the one to speak first afterwards and your thankful. Worried that he would be thinking it was awkward for you to have come undone just by humping him.

"How do you feel, baby?" He asks, his voice low but sweet as he traces his thumb over your cheek.

"Felt good, felt really good." You mumble to him. You look down between you at the wet spot you left on his jeans. "I'm sorry..." You start, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

He shakes his head, looking at you gently, "It's okay. I can just wash them." He is still tracing his finger over your cheek as looks at you, you don't know what he is thinking but it makes you nervous not knowing.

"Did you really mean what you said?" you ask, trying not to seem shy under his gaze when you literally just came undone on top of him.

"About what, baby?" He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip again. You blink slowly trying not to seem desperate or whiny, you still wanted him. You wanted him to fuck you. The release on his lap only made it worse.

"Fucking me...until I can't...walk or something like that?" you ask, nerves overtaking you again as you gaze into his blue eyes. Feeling him still hard beneath you.

"You still not satisfied, babygirl? You need daddy's cock?" He teases with a smirk, watching as you shiver underneath him with nothing but his words and his soft touch.

You nod frantically, he moves his other hand up to tuck some hair back behind your ear. "Words, use your words." He sternly says and you recoil a little at his order.

Something bubbled in your belly, you didn't know if it was his authority or...what but jesus. You wanted to do anything he asked.

"Yes, daddy, I want your cock." you say sweetly, trying not to seem nervous under his gaze and his hands slowly lifting up your sundress. He licks his lips, looking at the dark spot on his jeans from your cum.

"You made a mess on daddy's lap, baby. You've been naughty, very naughty. I don't think I should let you have my cock." Leon teases, smirking as he twirls a strand of your hair between his fingers.

His cock was uncomfortably hard beneath you, made your want pool in your lower stomach all over again. “Daddy, please.” you whimper, pathetically, trying to roll your hips again.

“Just want you inside me…” you whimper, trying to get more friction, anything or everything. You don’t care anymore.

"I'll take care of you, baby. I'll be good to you." You whimper at his words, trying not to wiggle anymore for friction. He carefully lays you down on the couch, on your back.

He leans up and presses a bruising kiss to her lips, his hand stroking her thigh, “Such a good girl for me.” He mumbles in between languid strokes of his tongue.

You want him everywhere, you don’t know how much long you can keep this up, he already made you cum once and that wasn’t even by his own accord.

He reaches down and carefully runs a finger up her soaked underwear, pressing a sloppy kiss to your jaw as he does. Your chest is rising and falling as he teases your already soaked panties.

“Baby, you’re underwear is soaked.” He lowly chuckles as he presses another kiss to your lips. You whimper in anticipation as he plays with the hem of your panties.

Leon leans back, he smirks, “Or is that because you drenched yourself once already?” He asks as he finally pulls the underwear down your legs.

You nod frantically, not sure if he was actually asking or just commenting on your current state of arousal. He slips a hand through your wet folds, causing you to shiver.

"Use your words, babygirl." He says as he just brushes his finger lightly across your clit, causing you to whimper. You look up into his dark blue eyes, "S' all for you, daddy." You say as he pushes your sundress up with his hand.

"All that just from grinding on my dick, sweetheart?" He tuts, running his hand down your stomach and too your aching cunt. You writhe under him with another frantic nod.

He tuts, "You dirty girl." Leon smirks as he teases your clit again with his fingers, running the pad of his thumb over the sensitive bud. You shiver and feel a wave of arousal at his thumb's movements.

You let out a small moan as he continues to stroke it. This seems to catch his attention. You were already so needy and sensitive from the orgasm moments before.

"You think you can take my fingers, baby?" He groans as he continues to stroke your clit, you feel another orgasm bubbling in the pit of your stomach as you nod, "Yes, daddy."

He complies, seeing that your answer was good enough to slip one finger into your tight and needy cunt. "Uhh! Daddy!" you moan, his fingers were much larger and thicker than you even imagined, stretching you out beyond your imagination.

"You like that? You like my fingers fucking into your tiny hole, baby?" He whispers dirtily into your ear as you let out another strangled moan.

"Yes...yes!" You whine as your orgasm slowly builds again, he's pumping his finger in and out of you at a faster rate now, your whines and moans echo through the large loft apartment.

Leon keeps flicking his thumb over your clit as he pumps his finger in and out of you, you grip onto his bicep so hard you think you might draw blood, again.

"What if I just..." he says lowly as he removes his finger, quickly adding a second one. "...do this?" you practically moan out, it's pathetic really because it's not even his cock that's got you like this.

It's two of his fingers pumping in and out of your drenched hole, stretching you out and making you edge closer to the second orgasm.

"Daddy! Please don't stop! Feels s' good." You say, biting your lip, your back arching off the couch as he finger fucks you into oblivion. You babble more about his fingers pumping in and out of you.

"My cock is going to feel so good inside of you, sweetheart." He whispers into your ear, his words spurring you on as you feel your second release coming up. You release a pornographic moan as he curls his fingers.

"Please! Please! Please, daddy. Need you inside me so bad." you whine as you feel your second orgasm rapidly approaching. He presses more kisses into your neck as he groans.

"Gonna fuck your tight little hole so good, baby. You'll be feeling it for days." He rasps into the skin of your neck as he speeds the movement of his fingers, his thumb assaulting your clit.

His words making you clench against his fingers with trembling thighs, you grab harder onto his bicep as you reach your second release, "Fuck! I'm -- coming!" You pathetically moan.

"Good girl, drenching my fingers." He coos as he presses a featherlight kiss onto her jaw. He slowly works you down from your orgasm, slowing down his fingers as you finally catch your breath.

Your chest rises and falls, feeling like you just ran a marathon. Leon pulls his fingers out of you with a languid groan as he sits back, keeping eye contact with you.

Two drenched fingers rise as you look at them with a small whimper, he smirks a little before putting them into his mouth, sucking your release off of his fingers.

"Sweet, just as I thought." He softly says, leaning back over you, slotting himself between your hips. He braces himself on either side of your head as he presses his lips to yours.

You moan into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue as he sloppily kisses and licks your lips, your arms chaining around his neck.

You sloppily make out for a few seconds, moaning and groaning from you both are the only sounds heard in the loft apartment. His clothed erection makes contact with your sensitive core again, making you clutch onto his lips tighter, whimpering.

"Please, I want...I want it." you say softly, begging him in a whine as you try to meet his erection that keeps brushing up against your clit.

Something dark gleams in Leon's eyes as he looks at you, seeing you all pathetic, whining underneath him for his cock. "Ask me, very nicely baby. Maybe I'll consider fucking you good." He says with an evil sort of grin as he teases her. He was going to fuck her anyways but teasing her was just part of the fun.

She whimpered as she looked up at him, "Don't make me."

Leon smirks down at her grabbing a hold on her chin, forcing her to look right into his eyes, blue and daring as he looks at her. "You'll ask nicely or not get anything at all." He says in a stern voice, holding onto her jaw with a strong hand. "Is that clear?"

Fuck. Me.

She feels her drenched core throb at his voice, so stern and demanding making her nod her head vigorously. "Yes, daddy." She says as she looks up at him, biting her lip.

He nods with a smirk, "good, now ask." He removes his hand from her chin, making sure her eyes are still locked on his. She swallows a little and tries to gain what's left of her breath to ask him.

The silence hangs as she utters the words, they both need to hear, "Please fuck me, daddy." she asks softly as she looks into his eyes. She didn't know how much longer she could last, the arousal was getting uncomfortable at this point.

Luckily, she wouldn't have to wait much longer, Leon's face spread into a mischievous smirk. "Good girl." He says with a small squeeze to her ass.

Woah, when did his hands get there? Fuck.

You practically mewl at his praise, he props himself up back up on his knees, still in between your thighs. You watch as he undoes his belt, pulling his pants down to reveal his hard on in his boxers. She whimpers and tries to grab for it to touch it, he moves her hand away.

"No, no. If you do that, I'll cum without you. Hands off." He says sternly and you nod at him, biting your lip as you obey him. "Sorry, Daddy." she says softly.

He smiles at you gently as he pushes his boxers down, his cock springing free. She swallows and looks from it to his face, practically drooling.

Holy shit, oh my god...

"It's okay baby, I'll give you what you want." He says as he caresses her face with his hand, you lean into the touch as he moves down to be on top of you again, his large cock brushing against your entrance causing you to whine pathetically.

"Oh, so whiny. Shhh, you'll get it. Be patient." He murmurs into your ear, hands resting on the couch pillow behind you. You had no choice but to wait, your hips bucked a little, trying to see past the teasing and desperately find some friction.

He reached down between you, grabbing his dick and running it through your wet and overstimulated pussy. "Daddy..." You find yourself whining again. He nudges the tip against your entrance, his large hand guiding it.

"Mmm, still so wet for me baby, good girl." He groaned into your ear as he let the tip nudge your opening and slip in a little. You moan softly, feeling the head of his cock in your pussy. "Please..." She whines, holding onto his bicep in a vice grip.

He chuckles in your ear, his voice soothing. "Okay, okay baby, no more teasing." He lets his hips move slowly inside of her, his dick stretching her out. The white heat burned but felt so good, your skin was on fire in the best way possible.

"Daddy." you whine as you bite down on your lip hard enough, your eyes squeezing shut as stars danced in your vision. She leaned her head back, lips parting in a silent scream. "So tight around me, fuck." He says in almost a low growl, nipping at your earlobe.

Your pussy would never be the same, he was sliding all the way in until the head of his dick hit your cervix. She whimpered and clawed at his arm, probably leaving scratch marks later, neither of them seemed to care right now.

He started moving his hips, hitting her deeper and deeper with each thrust. "God, yes. Fuck." He cursed into her ear as he fucked her hard and deep. "Daddy!" she moaned loudly, not even caring if the neighbors in the other loft apartments could hear them.

"So, fucking good, so good." He repeats into her ear, she clenches around him, feeling more arousal as his words spur her on more, her legs going to wrap around his hips, letting him go as deep and fast as he wants with her.

He takes the hint, slipping his hand under her dress, palming her tit over her bra. His hips moved faster as if he was a wild animal, hitting deep inside of her. She cries and whimpers around his cock as it hits that spot over and over.

"Daddy, daddy, mmm..." He was fucking the words right out of you. You couldn't even form any thoughts as he pounded into you. She felt something bubbling in her belly as he fucked her. She dug her fingernails into his skin, his face buried in her neck, licking and biting. "Daddy, not going to...last..." She whimpers as he presses a final bite to her neck.

He leans his head up to look at her as he pounds into her, she looks into his eyes, she sees how his face is scrunched up in pleasure as he pounds into you. "I know, you going to cum for daddy?" He asks in a small smirk, his face watching hers as she nods and starts to moan a little bit louder.

"Yes, gonna...gonna cum!" She moans out pathetically as he sees her whimpering and whining on his cock. He presses a bruising kiss to her lips, his hand holding onto her hips steadily as he keeps up his hips.

You moan into the kiss, letting him rail into her with no hesitation. "Cum for me baby." he whispers against her lips; she lets her eyes roll back as she finally releases on his cock. He groans as she cums around his cock, squeezing it and milking it with her pussy.

"Good girl, good girl." He says with a smirk as he continues fucking her through it to reach his own release. She whimpers and whines, holding onto him tighter and moaning. Eventually, he fills her up with his cum. He lets his hips stutter against hers, she lets her core tighten around his dick, sucking his cum in. "So good..."

He nods with a soft and simple smirk, leaning down to press a kiss against her lips. "You did good, very good." You feel yourself melt at him and his words as he pulls away, slipping out of you. You both moan softly at the loss, your eyes lazily falling shut.

His cum mixed with yours drips out of your stretched entrance, he tucks himself back in his boxers and pants, climbing off the couch. "Stay there, I'll clean you up." Leon says in a soft smile as he walks out of sight for a second before coming back with a washcloth and wiping your shared mess up.

The washcloth makes contact with her sensitive clit, causing her to jerk away a little. He puts a supportive hand on your knee, gently rubbing circles on it. "It's okay, shh." He says soothingly.

She nods at him dumbly, watching him with lazy eyes as he gets up and puts the washcloth in the laundry room, tossing it on the floor. He comes back and sits beside your open legs, he grabs your underwear, slipping them back over your legs, you lift your hips and let him cover your core completely.

"C'mere." He motions for you to move closer next to him, she gets up and weakly moves over, resting her head on his lap. Leon looks down at you, playing with your hair. "Feel better now?" He asks you simply, being gentle with his touches.

"Much better." you reply. And you think that you just might be.

[marzipanandminutiae]

Do you know much about historical cuisine? Saw yet another anime with friends and they went the whole 'modern food always tastes better' bit. I feel tired of the trope and am wondering how different historical cuisine would taste compared to modern times. So anything you happen to know as a historian would be cool to know!

That varies MASSIVELY based on time and location. Like. Much more than fashion does, even, I'd imagine (in a given sub-region- I can talk about Mainstream European and Euro-American Fashion of the 19th CenturyTM but the food was so different in different countries that were dressing the same, if that makes sense? just as an example).

Food is often more globalized in a lot of places nowadays, so the characters might have more diversity of flavors from the regional norm than they're used to. But this could be a good or a bad thing- a woman from 17th-century Japan might love pizza and much sweeter Western pastries, or she might absolutely hate them. Which is not to say regional cuisines haven't evolved, too- a museum here in Boston used to have tastings of 18th-century-style hot chocolate, and it was very different from the modern sort. But that's the largest blanket difference across the globe that I can think of, food-wise.

Not sure what anime this was, so it could have been Japan-specific, but I feel like this gets applied the most to the 19th-mid 20th century UK and United States. The whole Captain America line about "food's better; we used to boil everything," for example, and the general belief that everything was bland mush in those areas until the 1950s and then it was incomprehensible Jell-O mold horrors until approximately the 1980s. And of course, none of that's true- there were plenty of dishes that used spices and different cooking methods, many of which are still popular today. See also: Jonathan Harker, a Normal 1890s Englishman, getting so rhapsodical about paprikahendl that he simply must have the recipe for his fiancee to make. There also WERE bland mushes and fluorescent nightmares, but there's less than ideal food today, as well.

(Note that I'm much less confident talking about the whole English StodgeTM thing as we get into the 20th century. That is outside my history wheelhouse and there's a lot of different stuff embroiled in it relating to class and such that I don't want to talk out my ass about. All I know is that I've seen plenty of recipes from as late as the end of the 19th century, from England and some from urban Scotland if I recall correctly, that made ample use of spices. Nutmeg, mustard, black pepper, rosemary, caraway, and cayenne pepper were especially popular (not all together obviously). There was a belief among the middle and upper classes that strong flavors of garlic and onion were distasteful to ladies, but the fact that cookbooks and such feel the need to mention it implies that those elements WERE being used in cooking generally, in the UK, at that time. So wherever the idea that All British Food Is Beige And Tasteless came from, it wasn't mainstream late Victorian cooking for adults as far as I can tell)

(They gave kids a fair amount of the beige and tasteless because they believed their digestive systems couldn't handle strongly-flavored- okay now I'm getting off topic. Read Ruth Goodman's "How To Be A Victorian." Anyway!)

tl;dr- The answer to "is modern food better?" is "that's literally impossible to answer as a blanket statement, since it's massively dependent on the character's original time, place, social status, and personal taste- and where they end up in the present, of course."

Now, I do agree that the trope is annoying the same way every single princess being totally shocked and appalled when her marriage is arranged gets annoying- not because it can't be true based on history and human behavior, but because fiction treats it as some kind of universal precept. Mix it up a little sometimes! Have a Regency character who comes to the present, finds out that her favorite local cheese isn't being made anymore, and loses her entire mind!

[cerastes]

can i get other examples of gamepress being wrong about arknights? i've been using them as my main source since i started and now i'm worried i'm missing out on some operators i haven't bothered to upgrade 🙃

We could be here literally all day because it's not like they have one or two outliers, Gamepress is just mainly edited by people that live in an echo chamber and that have authority in their own circle so it's just off-the-hip, all too often wrong biased takes based on their own really reductive metrics. Chiefly, Gamepress ranks characters 1) as if they were the sole unit in the battlefield almost exclusively, and 2) using the single most broken units currently live as the barrier of entry. The unit you are looking up can't clear a chunk of map in one tap? Worthless and sub-optimal, according to Gamepress. Their only metric is Mlynar, Ch'ung the Hung, Surtr, that kind of Press To Win philosophy, and if a unit can't do that, Then It's Bad And Not Worth It.

Now, you may be thinking, "goodness me, Dreamer, you are being awfully harsh to call them complete dogshit at every angle of the game in this manner!", well, see, it's not just their Operator "reviews", they have articles sometimes. And they are god awful dogshit as well, such as "What Happened To Blaze?"

You can't see the comments anymore, but the author was getting reamed. I have one screenie at least:

Comments were mainly of this nature. Because, well, the article is straight up awful, especially since it reduces Blaze to "laneholder" and compares her to "competition" like Thorns, Mudrock, and Mountain, who, yes, they all can hold a lane, but Blaze has her own space of "infinite duration, high statline, healable 3-block with 2 tile range" that has historically allowed for Funny Tricks like clearing enemies through "walls" on tiles that could shred Thorns even with a healer, or, you know, in conjunction with any of Mudrock or Mountain, given you have 12 whole slots for you team. Again, Gamepress editors rate characters as if they were your main in a fighting game and not one of 12+1 characters you can throw in at any time. They also tend to shit on non-specialist characters (generalists; more versatile units that can do a bunch of things without really breaking the game in any regard), which is very interesting because those usually will make up a strong backbone of any competent Integrated Strategies team, so the specialists in role can do their thing while the other needs of the map are being met.

"Ebenholz is nothing special." "Goldenglow is nothing special." These are takes they genuinely held until, you know, it turned out that Eben and GG are the most relevant Casters, up there with Eyja. To be fair, it wasn't just them being wrong on Eben, but how do you look at the global blasting of GG with her numbers and don't immediately realize that's an ICBM button? All it takes is having the game installed.

The biased nature of Gamepress is also blatant:

Imagine rating April as "Really Good" while relegating Dorothy as only "Really Fun". Even before her Module3, Dorothy was absolutely devastating, bringing huge damage multipliers, crowd control, one of the single best class autoattacks in the whole game at 6* stat weight, and a Talent that gives her even more Attack for basically using her as intended. I'm not saying April isn't good, mind you, I'm just trying to highlight how biased the hands behind Gamepress are: They can't figure out Trapmasters? Then surely they are merely "really fun". Can't drop and forget them like April or Surtr, after all.

About the only thing Gamepress is good for is objective, in-game info: Dates, mat requirements, what skills do, that kind of stuff. It's got a good interface and is a good place to just quickly look up what you need to know that can otherwise be found in the game. The moment their personal opinions come into play, though? The most absolute dogshit takes. Unless you are a "unga bunga drop Surtr and Mlynar and win instan-- WAIT WHY IS INTEGRATED STRATEGIES AND RISK 23+ KICKING MY DAY 1 PLAYER ASS...!?" kinda player, then you don't really want to follow Gamepress advice.

Because they simply do not give good advice as a whole.

[ellamuffin97]

Feelings cascade .

Pairing : Loki x fem reader

Warnings : smut , oral receive (m) ,sub!loki, dom!loki , restraining, orgasm denial ,

Summary : Loki falls by accident on Sakaar , a planet of lost souls . Reader finds him and decides to keep him for herself .

Word count : 5.8k

He fell from the sky like a raven haired angel, with a dark green cape instead of wings and enchanting, beautiful eyes that seemed to burn every fibre of your skin and look right through you, learning your darkest secrets when he spotted you walking towards him with one of your companions, your face covered by a white cloth to protect you from the sun and dust.

Suspicion and hostility was glistening in the mesmerising blue of them. He pursed his lips, lifted his chin and raised his arms in defeat, promising subtly he meant no harm. Well of course, he didn’t. No one who came here, involuntarily, meant any harm. His fate was in your hands now. He might as well pray you were going to be merciful on him.

Checking him out from head to toe, you took in his muscly, well-defined but still slim and graceful body. He looked mischievous, intelligent and skilled, strong even. Heaven knew where he had come from and how he had ended up here but the amount of money you could already see the Grandmaster waving at you for him would be massive.

Licking your lower lip behind your cloth, you imagined the pile of units all yours for the taking if you handed him in, selling him as a gladiator. Perhaps he would be the one to win against the Hulk. That would bring you twice as much as you would already receive for offering him to the Grandmaster in the first place.

Still, you briefly weighed your options.

“Are you a fighter? Or are you food?” Your companion barked, grinning from behind his cloth and raising his gun to underline his words. There is only one correct answer if you want to live, stranger.

No. There was something about him… something fascinating. Whoever he was, you wanted to know. Every piece of his memories, every word that escaped his lips, every inch of his godly body…

The stranger chuckled darkly, the swift tone of light discomfort swinging in his voice when he spoke.

“I can ensure you, I am not edible. Certainly, I will hardly taste well.” It was smooth. Alluring and almost… seductive. Like he chose each word with utter thought, like his tongue was made of pure silver. You came to a choice quickly.

“I beg to differ.” You shot back, narrowing your eyes at him. Surely, he would taste beyond ravishing once you had him tied to your bed, stroking his stiff cock and licking over the tip to taste his arousal. Oh yes, this one you would keep to yourself. Fuck the units. He was too precious.

“I am King Loki of Asgard. Surely, we can come to an agreement that will work for both of us. What is this place? Where am I?”

Loki. The name suited him. Loki as in the God of Mischief? You had heard of the gods of Asgard. It would explain his handsome looks. Whatever title he claimed to have though, here on Sakaar it was insignificant, meaningless. Here, he would be nothing more than your toy.

Smirking maliciously behind your white cloth, you tilted your head once more. “Oh, I was unaware I was in the presence of royalty. I am terribly sorry, my king. But you see you are on Sakaar. There are no kings here, no queens and princes and princesses.”

“I’ll send in a call, we need an appointment with the Grandmaster, he needs to look at this one himself.” Your companion suggested, turning to head back to his spaceship.

“No. You can have my share of last week’s raid, I’ll keep him.”

Loki narrowed his eyes, his lips slightly parted. Mmmmm… you were already imagining nibbling on those thin lips all the while riding him senseless. You wondered what he would look like when he came undone, moaning breathlessly and helplessly underneath you.

“Are you sure? He looks like a piece of work.”

“I am sure.” You had never done this before. The men you had bedded before had been willing, whores of the Grandmaster he occasionally lent you without charging you for selling him gladiators. But Loki… you wanted him. Utterly. All of him. He was so different… perhaps eventually, you would let him go again if only you could have your fun with him first.

“Alright… guess I leave you two lovebirds alone then.” Grinning evilly, your companion turned around, returning to his spaceship. You remained standing as still as a statue until he flew off, the engine roaring loudly and the air pressure robbing your of your hearing for a moment. Then, you slowly took a few steps forward, eyeing Loki in an intrigued manner.

You didn’t expect him to back away—glued to the dirty ground, he watched your every move like a hawk, his hands—soft and clean hands with long fingers, god damn—still up in the air. It would pass off like it always did. Any moment now, he would attempt to strike, you would overbear him and then drag him onto your spaceship.

And he did. Loki conjured a shiny dagger out of thin air, hauling off both brutally and gracefully. You would have been lying if you had said you were not surprised. It must be true, what they said about him. A master of magic, tricks and illusions. Oh, it had been a very good decision to keep him all to yourself.

Dodging his powerful blow, you flung one of your obedience disks at him. The cool metal instantly latched onto the sensitive skin of his long and flawless neck, digging its hooks deep into him. Loki grunted in pain, more so when you activated the taser and sent him jerking until he fell to his knees, collapsing to the ground, his mischievous weapon of choice falling to the ground like a useless piece of wood.

You would keep it. Proper weapons were a rarity on Sakaar and you possessing an actual dagger from Asgard, one of the nine infamous realms, would gain you respect and polish your reputation. You could barely wipe the anticipating grin from your face when you grabbed his green cape and pulled him towards your spaceship.

For a god, it took him surprisingly long to recover from the electricity shocks you had given him on the way to your apartment. Loki didn’t put up a fight when you fought to toss him onto your bed, using two pairs of strong shackles to restrain him and chain him to your bedposts, which you both linked to a collar you put around his neck.

There was no symbolic reason to it, really. It merely served the purpose to threaten to crush his windpipe if he tried pulling at the cuffs too much so he would only end up hurting himself. He might have been the Trickster but you had a few up your sleeve as well.

God, he looked so beautiful. Especially unconscious, with all of his features relaxed and peaceful, he did in fact look like an angel, too perfect to be true. You would worship his body with your hands and tongue, that you were already sure of.

Your heart jumped in joyful anticipation and excitement when he finally opened his stunning blue eyes, blinking at the sudden brightness in your apartment. He needed a second to realise his surroundings had changed, another one to notice he was chained up.

A smirk crept up on your lips from behind your cloth when you watched him struggle for a while only to give up a few minutes in. He was indeed smart then. It was useless to fight the metal.

Clenching his jaw, his blue eyes darted around the bedroom until he found you. Curiously, he drank in your form. “You will pay for this.” He stated simply, his voice calm and composed. An amused scoff escaped your lips.

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to threaten me… in the position you’re in right now?”

Loki smirked. He… what? Why did he smirk? It hit you straight between your legs, a familiar wetness pooling in your black panties. Pressing them together impatiently, you approached the bed and sat down on the edge just when he spoke up again.

“You are right, I apologise… I gave you my name.” He continued then, nodding courtly. “It is only fair if you give me yours.” Fuck, he was charming too. If he kept acting like this, you would give him everything he asked for.

“Me?” Still surprised, you smiled to yourself, hiding a sudden sadness flaming up deep in your guts. You hadn’t used your real name in years. “Call me Scrapper 101. Or just 101, whatever you prefer to scream.”

The God of Mischief frowned. “Surely you must have a real name?”

“Maybe…” The only other thing on this planet you trusted with your real name was your diary. An old scrapbook you had brought from Earth. It carried years of your deepest thoughts, wishes and desires, memories about your old life and information about your person. It was dangerous to keep it, that you were very well aware of but there had to be at least something you wanted to hold on to if you abandoned Earth for good for the rest of your life. It was quite safe in its hiding place behind your drawer.

“Well then, 101, who is it who is in charge here? You must have some kind of leader on this planet.”

So he wanted to talk? Fine… stalling you wouldn’t change what you were going to do to him. You could barely await ripping those expensive garments off his body, admiring his exposed body and taking in his naked form before tasting him.

“Oh, we do. The Grandmaster. He’s like… millions of years old. He runs and owns the place. I work for him. Whenever lost souls find their way here, I collect them and sell them to him in exchange for some cash. It’s an acceptable life compared to… whatever.” Compared to your previous one.

Loki frowned, noticing how you stopped yourself from telling him too much. He was instantly aware of how you didn’t want him to know anything about you—and there was no need to, really. Whatever you had had on Earth, it was over. You lived here now and you did things that questioned your morals but as long as you could still look in the mirror without being disgusted by yourself, you figured, it was alright.

“You consider me a lost soul? I am a king, little one. I have both purpose and a kingdom to rule. If you just let me talk to the Grandmaster…”

“Look,” you interrupted harshly. “I already told you there are no kings on this planet. You belong to me now, Loki and I’ll do to you whatever I please.”

The God of Mischief opened his mouth to protest, yet not a single sound escaped his thin lips. Fascination radiated off him as he watched you climbing on the mattress to straddle his lap. The leather material of his garments felt cool and comfortable against your skin. You had to suppress a moan when you finally took off the white cloth from your face and tossed it out of bed, revealing your face to him.

For a brief moment, Loki simply stared at you, slightly tilting his head.

“And what is it you are going to me, little one?” His teasing nickname for you sent jolts of electricity straight to your pussy. What was happening to you? No man had ever affected you like this. You blinked in an attempt to keep your hard-earned composure.

“I think you know, Loki…” you murmured absentmindedly, your eyes roaming over his body, taking in every centimetre. Licking your lips, you tore at the soft fabric to reveal his chest. A little pale but well-defined and muscly, flawless in every aspect. He was perfect. You sucked in a sharp breath upon eyeing him, causing him to chuckle darkly.

His reactions should concern you. Did he mean to confuse you? Did he know about the effect he had on your willing body? Impossible. He might be a god but he would not be able to read minds… right?

Shaking off the thought by pushing a few strands of your hair out of your face, you allowed your fingers to touch his skin, setting a hot burning fire to your hands. Trembling, you let them dance over his stomach until you reached the rough seam of his leather pants, ready to tear those off as well.

You were impatient. Aroused. Stupefied by this captivating man. Almost clumsily you undid the buttons, grabbing fistfuls of the fabric to get it out of the way.

“Are you sure about this, little one?” His smooth and now suddenly hoarse voice tore you back into reality. Your eyes shot up to meet his blue ones. It was like he captured you, plodding through your mind like a greedy scavenger.

Nodding mutely, you lowered your gaze again. He was perfect, through and through. Loki’s length was impressive, truly the size of a god and quite frankly, beautiful. Licking your lips once more, you already imagined what he would taste like. He wasn’t hard yet but you would take care of that with pleasure.

It was then he yanked at his shackles for the first time, gritting his teeth and hissing as his whole body jerked, his muscles tensing. He almost threw you off his lap in the process.

“Let. Me. Go…” He choked out angrily, narrowing his blue eyes at you. It was you who chuckled in response this time. There went his patience.

“What part of ‘you are mine now’ don’t you understand, I wonder?” You didn’t leave him any time to answer. Instead, without forewarning, you wrapped your right hand around his manhood, gasping at how nice he felt between your fingers.

He instantly fought a moan when you started stroking him, fascinated by how he started to twitch under your affective touches. You soon brought your left hand up to caress his balls, enjoying how he grew hard. Proudly, his cock, ready with need and lust, rested against his stomach after you released him, shifting backwards a bit to lean down.

You could feel him shiver when you licked over his tip for the first time, your eyes closing with relish upon learning his taste. He was downright delicious, a devilishly good-looking man you would never let leave your bed again.

Loki moaned, the uncontrollable sound echoing through your bedroom like a prayer. Throwing his head back, he bucked his hips to thrust against your tongue, begging for more friction. You smiled satisfactorily, obliging and taking the tip of him into your mouth, sucking him like a piece of candy.

Oh, he was. He was so much sweeter than any kind of treat you had ever tasted. Eagerly, you slid him deeper into your mouth, taking in as much as you could before allowing him to pleasure himself. Your hands resumed caressing his balls and stomach, stroking his thighs now and then as his moans grew louder, pure bliss radiating off him like tropical heat.

You could tell he was struggling with himself. Not wanting to give in to the bliss you gave him, he thrashed around on the bed, fighting his inevitable climax but oh, you were too desperate for his hot semen shooting into your mouth. You would take that orgasm from him, whether he wanted it or not.

Smirking around his thick cock, your movements grew more frantic. Fast and demandingly, your head bopped up and down his length, devouring him as if he was your last meal and then, you felt him twitching under your worshipping touches, pulsating with his release. Loki growled like a caged animal when he came in your mouth, shooting his warm seed deep down your throat.

Hungrily, you swallowed every last drop of him, noticing with delight that he did not turn soften as of yet. With a silent smack of your lips, you released him, his manhood still jerking under your heated gaze, requiring more of your seducing treatment.

“Now don’t tell me you didn’t like that, Loki…” You purred, gently driving your fingernails over his bare chest. Goose bumps erupted from where they left an invisible trail, making him hiss in fake agony once more.

“Untie me and I will show you how much I liked this.” He growled darkly. He was staring daggers at you—hot, glowing and pointy daggers like the one he had attempted to strike you with, yet at the same time you could clearly see the arousal and desire glistening in his blue eyes.

Giggling wickedly, you grabbed the seam of your dark pants. “Already? I have barely started…”

You were too impatient to remove all of your clothes, too proud to do so. This man might be your new-fetched slave but as of yet, there was no need to reveal more of you than you wanted him to see. This was about you and if he behaved, you might let him cum again, this time after having been sheathed deep inside your core.

Shoving your panties aside to expose your swollen pussy lips, dripping with arousal and need, you sucked in a deep breath when the cool air in your apartment hit your wetness, wasting no time in guiding his still erect length to your entrance.

His involuntary moaning urged you on, teasing both him and yourself as you slid his moist tip up and down your slit, grazing your swollen clit before finally pushing him inside you, grunting with pleasure at the feeling of him stretching your walls and filling you so good. You could feel him twitching inside you, begging for friction, begging to thrust but you took your time.

Painfully slow at first, you started riding him, supporting yourself by pressing your palms flat against his chest, feeling it heave under your firm grip. Sighing, you leaned forward to capture his thin lips in a tender kiss before pulling away again, tasting his mouth on yours.

“Loki…” His name left your lips like a prayer as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your head falling back to expose your neck. “Oh Loki…”

Rocking your hips in frenzy, you moaned with every stroke, allowing him to buck his hips to meet your own. Antagonising waves of pure bliss cursed through your veins when you looked down to where your bodies became one, his cock stretching you so beautifully you almost came from the sheer sight of it.

Perhaps in time, you would trust him enough to leave him untied during sex, letting him worship and praise your body with his soft hands like you had his, permitting him to play with your clit while you pleasured yourself with his impressive cock. For now, however, you would have to take care of the job yourself.

Moaning shamelessly, you arched your back, one of your hands seeking out the most sensitive bundle of nerves to circle it, stroke it, and massage it until you almost lost your mind from all the pleasure building in your body.

A familiar knot tightened deep in your stomach, your walls clenching around Loki’s length as you climbed the ladder to orgasm higher and higher and higher, ready to let go and fall, tossing yourself down an uncompassionate abyss that would consume all of you.

Loki growled when he felt you getting closer, awaiting impatiently how you would milk his cock and drive him to his own blissful high once more. He was barely fighting it now. Instead, he desperately attempted to win the upper hand. It was a battle he would lose.

You screamed, your voice breaking when your orgasm hit you, washing over you and drowning you in endless waves of ruthless pleasure. Contracting around his hard cock again and again, you moved your hips rhythmically to ride it out until you collapsed on top of him, spent and satisfied.

His penis was still sheathed inside you, twitching and aching and begging for a finale… a tortured and disappointed moan escaping his lips when you forced him to slide out of you, rearranging your underwear and pulling up your pants again to get up.

Loki was a handsome man, a man one would want to be the father of their children, however… there was something too intimate about letting him cum inside you and you were not ready to have him do it just yet.

His blue eyes were wide with anticipation and hope, his gorgeous lips parted. Where you done with him? Where you going to finish him off? Biting your lower lip, an idea struck your mind.

“Beg for it.” You suggested casually, tilting your head as you eyed him down to catch every second of his reaction with a mischievous sparkling in them. You could practically feel the wrath and humiliation radiating off him, the war clamouring inside him. “Ask me to make you cum.”

Holding back an evil smirk, you waited for his reply. One second passed, then another one. You feared he would call you names and curse you and perhaps, in his mind he did but Loki knew better than to anger you. You were the one in charge here—you were the one who had chained him up.

“Fine,” He spat. “Do it. Finish what you started.” It was far from polite, submissive or begging of any kind but for now, you let it count. Your companion had warned you he would be a tough one to break but at least, he had asked.

You took your time to climb back on the bed, this time lying down next to him and propping your elbow on the mattress to be able to enjoy the sight of his half naked body. Your smirk grew wider as you grabbed his rock hard length and started jerking him off. The velvety skin against your palm made you gasp, your ears focusing solely on his wanting moans.

It didn’t take him long to lose his mind. Only seconds in, revelling under your tender touches, he began thrusting forward uncontrollably, fucking your hand like nothing else mattered. You gasped once more when he orgasmed, twitching and jerking in your hand, pulsating and staining your fingers with ropes of his warm seed.

Then, he finally softened, panting loudly and closing his mesmerising blue eyes to reclaim at least some of his composure. He was so beautiful when he came undone, even more so when he was relaxed. Smiling to yourself, you wiped your hand on the bed sheets and made a note to change them tomorrow before nuzzling into him and wrapping an arm around his steel chest.

“Sweet dreams, my king.” You murmured before giving in to a peaceful sleep.

Memories of last night haunted you like gentle caresses when your eyes flattered open. You could hardly believe this wonderful man was yours now. Today, your task would it be to get him to talk. Heaven, you wanted to know everything, every little detail. His past, his present, his future, his favourite colour and favourite book… all of it you wanted to belong to you.

A content sigh escaped your lips when you turned around to cuddle up against him—only to be met with an empty bed. Instantly, you shot up, ignoring how your vision went black for a moment. You were wide awake in the twinkling of an eye, looking around your apartment in shock.

He was gone. The shackles were gone. His dagger on top of your drawer was gone. No… this was impossible. Those shackles… ten horses would have been unable to break them. How on Earth had he freed himself?

Breathing heavily, you flinched when you sensed a movement from the corner of your eye. Your head spun around, spotting Loki leaning against the threshold of your bedroom door, his arms crossed and a smug and downright mischievous expression on his face.

“Good morning, little one.”

Panicking, you reached into the pocket of your jacket to pull out the taser. He only smirked, watching you struggle for a moment before conjuring it out of thin air, his long fingers toying with it playfully. Only now did you notice that he had removed the obedience disk from his neck.

“Are you looking for this?” He asked innocently, tilting his head.“I must admit, I was not prepared for this little trick of yours. You are quite the little minx. But I am the God of Mischief. A lot of people have made the mistake to underestimate my abilities. Breaking free from your pitiful restraints was almost too easy once you were sound asleep.” He explained. The eerie calmness in his voice worried you. You were done for. You were completely and utterly done for.

“I also enjoyed this a lot.” Smirking once more, he lifted up a brown scrapbook. Your scrapbook. “A quite entertaining reading, little mortal.”

You were frozen. Paralysed. Incapable of even opening your mouth.

“The Grandmaster was very understanding of my situation. He offered me my own apartment, a new wardrobe and a much desired position at his side. A much more appropriate way of treating a true king, would you not agree with me?”

“W-why have you come back? Are you going to kill me?” You finally chirped.

Loki frowned, acting confused. “Now, now, did we not have too much fun together last night? No. I will not kill you, little one.”

“Then what do you want?” You replied, your voice trembling like leaves in the wind.

“I want revenge. I warned you last night that you would pay for this. Now be a good girl and lay down again so I can tie you up.” He growled commandingly, narrowing his blue eyes at you.

Panting fearfully, you shook your head, moving slowly to get out of bed and fetch your weapon. The irrational part of you hoping that you would reach it in time blinded you too much to expect he would lunge forward and wrap his arm around your waist, possessively pressing you against his body.

Shrieking, you thrashed, attempting to hit him, slap him, bite him, whatever you could think of but it was no use. He was way stronger than you… and he was merciless.

“You robbed me of an orgasm last night, little one. In return I shall rob you of one of yours.” He growled hungrily.

Breathing in frantically, you flinched once more when he ripped your clothes off your body without forewarning, not bothering to leave them intact. Cool air hit your naked skin like a soft breeze when the sound of breaking fabric echoed through your bedroom, hardening your nipples within seconds.

Your resistance was short-lived. Soon, your strength was used up, your body resting defencelessly against his steel chest.

Loki chuckled when he lifted you up effortlessly to carry you over to your bed and threw you on it like a weightless pillow. Only the fraction of a second after, he was hovering above you, trapping you between the mattress and his body.

You glanced up at him mutely, with widened eyes and a fearful but anticipating expression on your face when he reached up to snatch your wrists and tie them to the bedposts. The tide had turned and you… you were at his mercy now. Naked, exposed and helpless, with him in charge… the thought both aroused and scared you.

“To be honest, I quite enjoyed last night. But you see I am not owned, little one.” He purred, his hot breath brushing against your ear. “I own.”

Wetness stained your naked thighs. You were panting heavily when Loki’s soft hands started travelling all over your body, exploring what you had denied him last night. With greedy blue eyes, he cupped your breasts, kneading them all the while licking his lips, playing with the hard nubs and twisting and rolling them between his fingers until you moaned from both pain and pleasure.

“You took pleasure from my body last night. Now Iwill take pleasure from yours.” He went on. The hoarse threat sounded like a dark promise, tingling right between your legs.

“Please…” Please what? Stop? Keep going? Give me more? Confused by your own reactions, you watched him undoing the buttons of his pants to free his pulsating erection. It sprang free in joyful anticipation, making you chew on your lower lip. He had felt so good inside you last night… would he be rough, now that he was in charge?

The cool leather of his armour brushed against your naked skin when he positioned himself between your legs impatiently, pushing your knees apart to grant himself better access. For a brief moment, he simply stared at your swollen sex, your pussy lips glistening with wetness just for him.

You moaned in pure bliss when he filled you to the hilt, not giving you any time to adjust to his size once he plunged into you possessively, taking what he wanted. Your wrists stung from the metal cuffs around them, your arms aching from trying to break free of them to touch him, guide him, anything.

Instead, Loki took control. Grabbing your hips firmly, his fingers digging into your skin, he started rocking into you relentlessly, fucking you good, hard and fast. He hit that sweet spot deep inside you over and over as he changed his angle to thrust even deeper, making sure to bring you right where he wanted you—to the brink of orgasm.

He was quick to succeed. Panting, moaning and screaming, you bucked your hips, arching your back, begging utterly devoted to let you cum. Just a little more friction… just a little more…

“Loki… Loki, oh, don’t stop, don’t stop! Ahhh…”

The God of Mischief smirked upon hearing your breathless pleas.

“Not until I have taken back what was mine to claim. Don’t you dare cum before me.” This time, you actually believed he would punish you cruelly if you ignored his order. Forcing your eyes shut, you clawed at your cuffs, trying hard to obey until he tensed to spill himself deep inside you, spurting ropes of his cum deep into your core. You would have had to lie if you had said it did not feel amazing to have him fill you up and mark you as his so intimately, your whole body shaking from pleasure as he rid out his orgasm and enjoyed the frantic twitching of his member against your tight walls.

His smirk grew devilish when he finally stilled, his cock still hard as it rested inside you, filling you completely.

“Go on.” He said, raising his eyebrows. “Cum. Make yourself cum on my cock like you did last night, you greedy little girl.”

Moaning, this time in annoyance and desperation, you bucked your hips, attempting to fuck yourself, bring yourself back to that wonderful chasm you wanted to send yourself flying down…

“I… can’t… I can’t, not like this…” You whined, sweat pooling underneath your naked body. Your limbs were shaking, your heart beating like a steam hammer. Loki tilted his head, grabbing your waist with so much force you screamed in sudden pain.

“What a shame…” He mocked sarcastically. He knew exactly it was impossible for you to orgasm like that.

Gritting his teeth, he started pounding into you once more, eager to make you cum around his cock this time. One of his soft hands reached down to massage your clit, flicking it relentlessly until you almost passed out from all the pleasure and sensations, the pressure building again faster than the twinkling of an eye.

“Beg me…” Loki growled, smirking again. You only moaned in response, unwilling to grant him that gratification just yet, even if it meant to torment yourself. “Beg me… beg me to let you cum.”

Was this how he had felt yesterday? Desperate, fighting your own body, devastated and so, so aroused it physically hurt?

Fuck it. You were lost. You had been lost to him the moment you had decided to keep him for yourself. He was dangerous and witty, would he not kill you if you disobeyed him?

“Oh God, please. Please, please, please, Loki, let me cum, please! I beg you, I beg you, please! Please…”

Sucking in a deep breath, you prayed it would suffice him. You needed to cum so badly… so badly…

Loki chuckled as he sped up his movements, stroking your clit as fast as he was thrusting into you. He tossed you right over that delicious cliff when he reached his second climax himself, spurting even more of his cum deep inside you.

Thrashing around wildly, you screamed your lungs out as if being tortured, trying hopelessly to ride down the waves of pleasure that threatened to break your body in two, shattering you like glass. Loki pulled out of you with one last groan, collapsing next to your spent form.

His seed kept dribbling out of you, staining the bed sheets and decorating your still lightly contracting pussy, your legs not ceasing to tremble uncontrollably.

“You should be able to see yourself right now, little one. So beautiful… you look ravishing with my seed painting your fragile body, marking you.” He purred, running his fingertips across your chest and creating goose bumps all over your breasts.

“It almost looks like you belong to me now, little one. A mere scrapper is, technically, below me, regarding my relationship to the Grandmaster.”

He was right. If the Grandmaster had in fact welcomed him as a cherished guest, you were nothing more but a mere slave yourself… his. And although you were scared shitless, dreading what else he had in store for you, the warm sensation spreading in your whole body made up for it. He was still the man you had wanted all to yourself. If he kept you… you would still get your way.

“You wanted all of me… now I shall take all of you.” He continued, making you shiver. “You will move in with me. I expect all of your belongings to be stored at my place by the end of the day but for now…” He really did sound like a king. Commanding, stern and intimidating but also charming, intelligent and convincing. “For now, you will answer all of my questions without hesitation and lies, am I understood?”

“Y-yes,” You stuttered.

“Good. What is your real name, little one? I want to hear it from you, not from a few scribbled words in an old scrapbook.”

So this was it. Utter submission. Utter devotion. Utter commitment. It felt strangely arousing, oddly satisfying and soothing.

“(Y/N)… m-my name is (Y/N).”

Loki’s mischievous smirk widened. “Hmm… I promise to treat you well, my little (Y/N). This’ll be such fun.”

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Napoleonville [Chapter 9: Clarence House]

Series Summary: The year is 1988. The town is Napoleonville, Louisiana. You are a small business owner in need of some stress relief. Aemond is a stranger with a taste for domination. But as his secrets are revealed, this casual arrangement becomes something more volatile than either of you could have ever imagined.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), dom/sub dynamics, smoking, drinking, drugs, Adventures with Aegon (ft. Sunfyre the Ferret), Willis Warning, infidelity, kids, parenthood, and no more hints for you, start reading!!!

Word Count: 8.9k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @marvelescvpe @toodlesxcuddles @era127 @at-a-rax-ia @0eessirk8 @arcielee @dd122004dd @humanpurposes @taredhunter @tinykryptonitewerewolf @partnerincrime0 @dr-aegon @persephonerinyes @namelesslosers @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @daenysx @gemini-mama @chattylurker @moonlightfoxx @huramuna @britt-mf @myspotofcraziness @padfooteyes @targaryenbarbie @trifoliumviridi @joliettes @darkenchantress @florent1s @babyblue711 @minttea07 @libroparaiso @bluerskiees @herfantasyworldd @elizarbell @urmomsgirlfriend1 @fudge13 @strangersunghoon @wickedfrsgrl

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He returns in an afternoon of inescapable golden sunlight, hot and muggy, bumble bees and ladybugs wheeling lazily above tall grass, cumulus clouds like tufts of cotton in a sky the color of Aemond’s eye. You hear him talking to Cadi—she’s out in the front yard making mud pies, earth for sugar and sprinkles of stray pelican feathers—and then the weight of his footsteps on the sinking, sloping porch. He opens the door, never locked, and walks through the living room into the kitchen. From behind, his arms circle around your waist; and you’ve missed him so much—dreaming of waves and storms, chains and blood—that you have nothing for him but softness, gentle smiles and a voice hushed with relief.

“How was Norway?” you ask as you roll out dough on the counter. You’re making a buttermilk pie.

“Fine,” Aemond says, resting his chin on your shoulder. But he sounds tired, low.

You turn around to look at him, raising your fingertips to his unscarred right cheek; he won’t tolerate you touching the left. You leave a dusting of flour across his skin like snow, which you have never seen in person and likely never will. The air conditioner is humming. The little pink Panasonic boombox is playing Africa by Toto. “Did something happen?”

“I just missed you.” Then he brightens. “But I was greeted by some very welcome news when I got back to the house this morning.” He’s wearing his neon teal duffle bag. He drops it to the floor and unzips it; inside you glimpse several Nintendo game cartridges, presumably for Cadi. And you think: I’m always here making things, he’s always bringing them from far away. Aemond takes two small dark blue booklets out of a pocket in the inner lining of the duffle bag and gives them to you. On the front of each is embossed in gold lettering, along with an emblem of a bald eagle: Passport, United States of America.

“…Aemond?!”

“There’s one for you and one for Cadi. I submitted the forms a month ago, but even with expedited processing it took this long. Ridiculous. What does the government do all day besides hunt down social programs to defund?”

“But…but…” You open one of the booklets. A photograph of your own face gazes back at you, serious and serene, taken against the white wall of your bedroom before you knew about Aemond being a Targaryen, or Christabel, or Amir’s exodus to San Franscisco, or the profound futility of everything, it seems. “How…?”

“I took the pictures, obviously. The rest was easy enough to find. You store birth certificates and social security cards the same place where you keep the business records that Amir showed me. Typically people have to go to a passport agency in person, but Criston and I have ways around that. Your signature might have been forged on the applications…but I suspect you won’t be filing any police reports.” Aemond grins, pleased with himself. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“It’s definitely surprising.” You stare down at the passports, amazed. “Aemond…this is a lot. But you already know that.”

“The whole time I was gone, I was wishing you could be there too. And now I can take you anywhere.”

Your heart is pounding, helpless childlike exhilaration. “Where are we going?”

“Clarence House in London.”

London: it’s another world, a distant planet, a constellation whose name you don’t know, the lost city of Atlantis.“Clarence House? Is that a hotel?”

“It’s a royal residence,” Aemond says, amused. “It’s officially the home of the Queen Mother, but the whole family goes to Balmoral in Scotland every summer, and while they’re gone they often rent out one wing to guests, not just anyone, trusted people like distant cousins or longtime, aristocratic friends. And the Targaryens…”

“You’re marrying Christabel, and she’s nobility. So you’re basically nobility now too.”

“Yes,” Aemond admits, a little guiltily, perhaps. “But you’re the person I’m inviting.”

“And Cadi.”

Now he’s genuinely puzzled. “Of course. We couldn’t leave her behind.”

Maybe I can handle this. Maybe I can make this work.

And you climb onto your tiptoes to circle your arms around the back of his neck, embracing him, thanking him, thinking: Christabel will have his ring, his last name, his family’s mansion, his acquiescent kiss at the altar of the Chapel of Saint Honoratus of Amiens…but I have what he’s made of, dreams, soul, bones in the abyss of an ocean of blood. Maybe that’s enough.

Maybe.

~~~~~~~~~~

First class, cheerful stewardesses, an array of magazines purchased from a gift shop in New Orleans International Airport: the National Enquirer and Food & Wine for you, The Face and Smithsonian for Aemond, and National Geographic Kids and Zoobooks for Cadi. The Zoobooks animal this month is the eagle, how quintessentially American. You are served antipasto Italiano, shrimp cocktail, Perrier, and champagne (Cadi gets a Shirley Temple) over the Atlantic Ocean. Aemond shows you and Cadi how to chew gum to pop your ears as the pressure builds to pain. When there is turbulence and he leans in close to tell you everything is fine, Aemond smells like Wrigley’s Doublemint, cologne, Marlboro cigarettes like the logo on his red and white jacket. You press your palm to the cool window, and clouds float by through the gaps between your fingers. The world is older than anything you could fathom; the world is brand new.

There is a black limousine waiting outside Terminal 3 of Heathrow Airport. The driver gets out to load the sparse luggage: Aemond’s teal duffle bag, a frayed and battered rolling suitcase that you borrowed from your mother, a Super Mario Bros. backpack that you found for Cadi at Kmart. Aemond doesn’t have much time to spare, only 4 days, practically a long weekend; but it feels like an eternity stretches out in front of you as the limousine zooms through the narrow, winding streets of downtown London, Starship’s We Built This City piping from the radio. You have never had more than a few uninterrupted hours with Aemond before. Now you will have a hundred.

The London air is cool, grey, misty; fresh rainwater bleeds into puddles, dark pools of mirrorlike reflections. With the windows rolled down and clean slate-colored air unfurling in your lungs, Aemond points to the landmarks you pass: Gunnersbury Park, Chiswick House and its gardens, cathedrals, museums, shopping districts, centuries-old cemeteries, stations of the London Underground, the River Thames, Hyde Park, the Ritz Hotel, Buckingham Palace, Saint James’ Palace, and at last Clarence House. It is a boxy white four-story townhouse with columns at the entranceway that remind you of the Targaryens’ estate on the shore of Lake Verret, the beautiful yet temporary home they call The Last Desire.

Aemond says that the entire first floor will be yours for the duration of your stay. There is the Lancaster Room, red and gold, and the Morning Room of creams and weak watery blue. There is the Library, the Dining Room, and the vibrantly pink Horse Corridor named for its ample equine paintings and sculptures; Cadi immediately proclaims this to be the best part of the house. She lingers in the hallway examining the art pieces as you and Aemond proceed to the Garden Room, which looks out upon a sea of lavender and shrubs meticulously shaped into a maze no higher than your waist. It has a golden harp and a grand piano, and a vast bed large enough for at least five people, in your estimation. I wonder if Aemond has ever tried that, you think distractedly. I wonder if there are temptations I can’t satisfy for him.

“You and Cadi can have this room,” Aemond says. He keeps wincing and bringing his hand up to the left side of his face; you doubt he’s even aware of it. “I’ll sleep on one of the couches.” Of course he will; Cadi thinks you’re just friends, and she’s aware he’s getting married to someone else. He knew exactly what it would mean when he bought a passport for her. “Queen Elizabeth and her husband Philip lived here before she ascended to the throne. They loved it so much that at first they refused to move to Buckingham Palace, which is the traditional residence of the reigning monarch. But their insolence was worn down. No one gets to break the rules.”

I shouldn’t be in this place, you keep thinking as you gaze around at the portraits on the wall, the stiff unnatural photographs of royals, the vases, the chandeliers, the fireplaces, the plush intricate rugs, the garden on the other side of the windows. People like me don’t belong here. “Aemond, are you alright?”

“It’s my eye,” he confesses with an uneasy, apologetic smirk. “Sometimes flights…the altitude changes…it aggravates the nerve damage. It’s like needles in my skull. But I’ll be okay.”

“You fly a lot for work, don’t you?” You hurt yourself for Viserys, in body and soul.

“I do,” he agrees. He unzips his duffle bag and produces a bottle of Percocet. “Why do you think I carry these around?”

“Take one,” you say. “Lie down, rest. Cadi and I can entertain ourselves for a few hours.”

He’s relieved, he’s grateful. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. You can even borrow the bed.”

“Back between your sheets, huh?” Aemond says, in pain but smiling through it. He draws a semicircle from the part in your hair down to your chin, a weightless sweep of his fingertips like a kind breeze. “You are incurable. You can’t resist me.”

“I have my own scheme in mind.”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” You grab the front of his Marlboro jacket, appropriate for the overcast London weather. He belongs here, this house, this city, this way of life. He wasn’t made for the primordial heat of the swamplands. You fold into him, close enough to tease, to quicken his heartbeat and momentarily clear the wounded furrows from his brow. “I want my pillows to smell like you. I want to breathe you in all night. It’s how I sleep best.”

“I’ll try not to disappoint,” Aemond says, a little stunned; but he’s elated too. For a moment, you’ve distracted him from his suffering entirely. “I’ll roll around all over them. I will mar the bedding irrevocably, the Queen Mother will never invite me back.” And he watches as you leave, his gaze transfixed and meditative and—more than anything else—hopeful.

“Hey, honey,” you say when you find Cadi in the Horse Corridor, poking a 100-year-old oil painting that she is definitely not supposed to be touching. “Let’s go explore and grab some dinner. Aemond isn’t feeling great, but we’ll hang out with him later.”

“Is it his face?”

You are startled. She knows so much. “Yeah, actually, it is.”

“He showed me,” Cadi says casually, still peering up at the horse; and you remember the day when he took her out to the front yard after she said she wished you were more like her friends’ mothers. “He even let me touch it. Radical, right? It’s so gross, but super cool too.”

Aemond couldn’t stand for me to see how he was maimed, but he forced himself to endure it for Cadi. “What did he tell you?”

“That I should appreciate having a good mom, because not all parents treat their kids right. He said his dad let his eye get crushed. And he told me he’d bet $1 million that you’d snap someone’s neck if they hurt me like that.”

You reach out to skim your fingers through her dark disheveled hair, smiling faintly, fondly. Cadi doesn’t seem to mind. “He wasn’t wrong.”

“Can we get fish and chips?”

“Totally. I have 50 British pounds in my wallet, I assume that’s enough for dinner.”

“Wow! How much is 50 pounds in dollars?”

“I have no idea,” you say. “Let’s go spend them.”

~~~~~~~~~~

In the evenings, you, Cadi, and Aemond gather around the television in the Lancaster Room and help yourself to the extensive VHS collection stocked for guests. You let Cadi pick: Raiders Of The Lost Ark, The Terminator, Firestarter, the Karate Kid, Aliens. You make popcorn in the extravagant kitchen in the basement of Clarence House and the three of you devour bowlfuls of it as you giggle on the couch, engulfed with throw pillows and playfully kicking at each other beneath the blankets. One night at Cadi’s request you bake Betty Crocker’s Party Rainbow Chip cupcakes with mix purchased at a Tesco down the street; on another you make hot chocolate to sip from antique tea cups. Each day, Aemond has new destinations picked out to tour. You ride the Underground like true Londoners to the Hampton Court Palace, the British Museum, Westminster Abbey, the Natural History Museum, Big Ben, Trafalgar Square, Tower Bridge, the National Gallery, the Kew Gardens, Imperial College where Aemond received the petroleum engineering degree he never wanted.

As he shows you the classrooms where he attended lectures and seminars—you aren’t sure what the difference is, though you can sense that there is one—Aemond doesn’t talk about math or oil drilling. Instead, he tells you and Cadi about the people he learned about in the history classes he managed to slip into his exacting schedule like splinters into flesh: Sir Harold Gillies who pioneered plastic surgery in his treatment of World War I veterans, Phillis Wheatley who was enslaved as a child and became a renowned poet and abolitionist, Boudicca who led a rebellion against the Roman invaders and upon her defeat succumbed to some tragic, enigmatic doom. Aemond loves stories like this, you can see the light that sparks into the crystalline blue of his right eye. There is nothing he deems more heroic than people who took circumstances beyond their control and made something worthwhile out of them.

The night before the flight back to New Orleans, you’re staring at the crown molding of the Garden Room as Cadi snores softly from the other end of the massive bed and silvery moonlight covers the world. You can’t stop your thoughts from roiling like the North Sea; you can’t stop thinking about desks and chairs and books and clever blue-blooded girls jotting down in their notebooks not cake orders but mathematical equations or dates of conquest. When you breathe in the smoke and cologne Aemond left on your pillows, it tastes dark and forbidden. You climb out of the bed, roomy Bob Dylan t-shirt, pink cotton shorts, hair loose and wild, bare feet.

He is outside pacing around the sundial in the center of the garden, puffing on a Marlboro cigarette and pondering the full moon. “Can’t sleep?” Aemond asks, exhaling smoke as he glances over at you.

“You must think I’m stupid.”

“What?” He stops pacing. “Why?”

“Imperial College,” you say. “And the sorts of people who go to places like that. You must have known a lot of women who could recite Shakespear and name all the kings of England, all of Jupiter’s moons. Things I never learned. Things that I have no use for. I don’t write books or design machines or study the secrets of the universe. I bake cupcakes.”

“And they’re brilliant,” Aemond says, smiling. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“No?”

“No,” Aemond insists. “I think that if you’d been born where I was, you would have done far more with it.”

“Aemond…” You walk across the wet cobblestones to meet him by the sundial. It’s been raining again. The night air is chilly, foggy, painting you with goosebumps. “You still have time to become who you want to be.”

“No. I don’t.”

It’s coming from somewhere, distant but still audible, a parked car or a nearby building: Kyrie by Mr. Mister. Aemond chuckles, flicks the end of his cigarette into the lavender bushes—surely against the rules—and takes your hands in his.

“I remember this,” he says as he dances with you slowly, clumsily; you don’t know the steps. Still, you don’t want him to stop. “In your kitchen.”

He remembers everything. “Right before we went to Olive Garden for the first time.”

He sighs, pretending to be exasperated. “Of course that’s the part you committed to memory.”

“I’ve held onto a few other details too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like how small the back seat of your Audi Quattro is.”

“A limousine would be far more comfortable. I should invest in one.”

You laugh as he twirls you and you trip over your own feet; he pulls you upright before you can fall to the slick cobblestones. And you think: This is real. No matter what happens between him and anyone else, what we have is safe and extraordinary and real.

“I’m glad you’re here, Cupcake,” Aemond murmurs through your hair, holding you without seeking more. “You and Cadi.”

You want him again, or you’re so close to wanting him that the line is less of a boundary than a quagmire, indistinct edges and quicksand that can drag you down to drown in it. “I never knew that this was possible. Thank you, Aemond.”

“It can be like this all the time.”

Not all the time, you think, knowing that there will always be Jade Dragon, the Targaryens, the stock market, the world, the past and the future, Christabel. But some of it.

Is that enough?

~~~~~~~~~~

Willis agreed to you and Aemond taking Cadi out of the country on one condition: that you return her to him the second you arrive back in Napoleonville. It’s late Tuesday afternoon when the plane’s wheels hit the runway and squeal to a halt. Aemond has left his red Audi in the Park-and-Ride lot. You collect the car and soar west on Route 10 into the red-gold horizon, chasing the setting sun.

“Daddy!” Cadi bellows when she throws open the front door of the Assumption Parish Sheriff’s Office, waving his gift bag excitedly. Inside is a refrigerator magnet, several packages of McVitie’s Digestives in different flavors, and a miniature red-coated Queen’s Guard to keep on his desk, perpetually covered with disorganized papers and crumbs from innumerable desserts. From her poster on the wall, Heather Locklear simpers at you. At the center of the dartboard, poor Tommy Lee is impaled in four different places.

“Comment ca va, cherie?!” Willis opens his arms to hug Cadi when she barrels into him. He guffaws, his eyes are shiny; he has missed her. “Ya had a real good time, I reckon?”

“It was totally tubular. But I’m glad I’m home now. Can I get a horse? His name is Patches and I love him.”

“Huh? What the hell ya need a horse for?” He peeks around Cadi to look at you, a curious blue gaze beneath the thick dark bangs of his mullet. “What’s she talkin’ ‘bout, sugar?”

Beside you, Aemond groans irritably. Then you hear a voice from one of the holding cells, almost always empty: “Hey, cake lady.”

“Aegon?!” you and Aemond say at once, and sure enough, when you check the last holding cell there he is: unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt, blue shorts, rainbow flip flops, hair like he’s been in a hurricane, a new eyebrow piercing.

Aemond asks Willis: “What did he do?”

Willis picks up a clipboard from his cluttered desk and begins reading. “Possession with intent to distribute cocaine—”

“I told you, I wasn’t distributing anything! It was for me!”

“Aegon, shut up,” Aemond pleads.

“Possession with intent to distribute marijuana, possession of drug paraphernalia, possession of methamphetamine less than 28 grams, operatin’ a vehicle while intoxicated, possession of MDMA, possession of alcoholic beverages in a motor vehicle, operatin’ a vehicle with a suspended license, resistin’ an officer…” Willis flips the page. “Speedin’, reckless drivin’, disturbin’ the peace while in an intoxicated condition, possession with intent to distribute Xanax, theft—”

“What the hell did you steal?!” Aemond demands.

“Burritos. I forgot my wallet at home.” Now Aegon is indignant. “But I saidI’d get them back! They didn’t need to call anybody about it!”

“Aegon, Taco Bell does not offer payment plans!”

“I can release him to ya, I guess,” Willis tells Aemond in a slow drawl.

“I really appreciate that. I’m so sorry about him, I’m absolutely mortified, I’ll pay whatever fines you want—”

“Wait, no,” Aegon says, panicked. His hands are gripped around the iron bars. “I don’t want to leave.”

Aemond stares at him. “You’re asking to stay in jail…?”

“I can’t go home. Stephanie’s there.”

“Of course she’s there. You knew she was flying in for the wedding.”

“Please let me stay here until she goes back to Monaco.”

“Definitely not. How’s everything else?”

“There’s something wrong with one of the Lake Verret rigs. Viserys mentioned a…a…I don’t remember, a dirt dump or something.”

“A mud pump?!”

“Yeah! That’s it. That’s what he said. It exploded.”

“Fuck,” Aemond hisses, then remembers that Cadi’s still there. She gives him a sly grin. You messed up, she means. Aemond looks to you, apologetic, disappointed. “I’m going to have to drop you off and then head straight home. There are messes to be mopped up.”

“No,” Aegon moans as Willis unlocks the holding cell and then wrestles him out of it when Aegon resists. “No, I’m a felon! I’m a danger to the public!”

“Don’t,” Aemond snaps, and this time his brother listens.

You say goodbye to Cadi—she barely notices—but as you go to follow Aemond and Aegon out of the Sheriff’s Office, she has a question. “Aemond?”

He stops. “Yeah, Cadi?”

“Can I go to the wedding?”

“Weddin’?!” Willis exclaims. “Already?!”

“Not mine,” you say.

“You really want to go?” Aemond asks Cadi with some reticence. But he seems to be considering it.

“Well, yeah. Mom said she and Amir are going. You’ll be there. Lots of cake will be there. And I’ve never been to a wedding before. I want to see what it’s like.”

Aemond turns to you, then to Willis, searching for permission. “It’s alright with me,” Willis says. “As long as someone there is keepin’ an eye on her.”

“It’s your choice,” you tell Cadi. “If you’re interested, I have no objections. But you have to be nice to Christabel.”

“Christabel?!” Willis says.

“That’s Aemond’s fiancée.” And there is a collective uncomfortable silence: Willis nodding slowly as he squints at you, Cadi chewing on her thumbnail, Aemond looking down at his Adidas sneakers, Aegon staring vacuously at the Heather Locklear poster on the wall.

With Aegon squeezed into the back seat, Aemond drops you off at the home Cadi calls the Fall-Down House. The new house hasn’t closed yet, but probably will in the next week. The adolescent gator is sunbathing in the last of the daylight in one corner of the yard; you can hear the pink Panasonic boombox inside playing Another One Bites The Dust.

“Ho, you’re back!” Amir cries, jubilant. He hugs you energetically, staining you with the flour on his hands; he’s been watching the bakery while you’ve been gone and keeping every cent of the profits in recognition of his labor, as agreed upon. “How was London?”

You give him his souvenir: a purple t-shirt with Princess Diana’s face on it. “Rainy. Wonderful.”

“Did you have any kinky sex in the royal grandma’s bed?”

“No,” you say, laughing. “But it was…I don’t know how to describe it. Calm. Normal. Easy. Like we could live that way forever.”

“So you’ve decided to be his Camilla.”

“Some moments I have. Other times I haven’t. But more and more, I just…” You try to decide what you mean. “The thought of giving him up feels impossible. And Christabel…they’re so distant with each other, so disconnected, so platonic. Their relationship doesn’t feel real. Maybe I can ignore it. Maybe this is the best I can hope for.”

Amir pushes his tortoiseshell glasses up the bridge of his nose and raises an eyebrow. “It might feel more real in three days.”

The rehearsal dinner is on Friday; the wedding is only 24 hours later.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You really should consider writing a cookbook, dear,” Alicent says from where she sits across from you. The dining room table is covered with flickering pink candles, bouquets of wildflowers, drinks garnished with cotton candy and Pop Rocks. Balloons bump against the ceilings, their long ribbons streaming down like the tentacles of a jellyfish. The stereo is thumping out Caught Up In You by 38 Special. Everything is pink and red: the colors of love. Yet just like at the engagement party, no one is talking about the couple getting married tomorrow. You could almost forget that there’s going to be a wedding. That makes it easier; and if denial is the terrain you live on now, so be it. That is far less agonizing than the alternative.

“Oh, no,” you demur, taking a sip of a cotton candy cocktail. You exchange a glance with Aemond, sitting several seats down from his mother. He is in a suit—black and white, fitted, faultless—and smiling, proud of you. “A book?! I couldn’t. Not in a million years.” I never even finished high school English.

“But all of my friends from home are captivated by your recipes, darling, and it would be so much easier if I could simply send them a copy of a cookbook rather than trying to describe every dish to them! Please consider it. Do you promise?”

“That I’ll think about it? Not too taxing a commitment. I suppose so.”

“Good,” Alicent chirps, then turns to whisper something to Criston, who drapes an arm briefly across her shoulders and gives her a reassuring little embrace. Amir is chatting with Aemond about San Franscisco. Christabel is talking to Helaena, who has been forced into a voluminous, magenta taffeta dress that she clearly despises; her chameleon Dreamfyre lurches around the table, occasionally stealing tastes of people’s food. Daeron, with Tessarion perched on the back of his chair, is trying to discuss something called seismic testing results with Viserys but getting ignored. Viserys is deep in conversation with Christabel’s father, the marquess, a large loud man whose booming voice drowns out everyone else. The two of them seem delighted, celebratory, very much in their own world. Their schemes have come at last to fruition. Christabel has several younger sisters in attendance—her bridesmaids—but no mother. You gather from pieces of dialogue you’ve overheard that her mother died when she was a child, a terrible and irreparable loss. Otto is so bored he’s flipping through a picture book about Kiribati. Aegon’s wife, Princess Stephanie of Monaco, is a headstrong, charismatic, and rather critical woman with short dark hair. She notifies Aegon each and every time he fails her, which happens frequently: You’re using the wrong fork. You missed a button on your shirt. You haven’t fucked me properly in over two years. You didn’t send flowers to my grandma’s funeral. This is evidently Aegon’s worst nightmare; he has disappeared upstairs in an effort to escape her.

Dinner is finished, and dessert has been brought by the servants. It turned out more like a crepe cake than a Napoleon cake—the layers of puff pastry didn’t want to fluff up as much as they should have—but no one seems to notice. This time, you and Amir knew the dress code expectations. You are both wearing black to fade into the backdrop like shadows, like distant memories. You are invited guests, but you are also locals, inferiors, recipients of charity.

“Where’s Aegon?” Helaena says. “He has to try this cake, it’s delicious! The cherry jam cuts the heaviness of the cream and pastry dough and makes it a perfect dessert for summer! And the color is delightful! It looks just like blood!”

“Where the hell is he?” Viserys demands, looking around, twisting in his chair. “It’s his brother’s rehearsal dinner, for Christ’s sake. One night of this importance and he can’t handle it? I swear to God, if he’s snorting or smoking anything up there I’ll have him committed to an institution—”

“I’ll find him,” you offer as you stand from the table. You have to visit the bathroom anyway, too many glitzy pink cocktails; two birds, one stone. You depart from the table and Aemond’s gaze follows you, a low heat that is building towards incineration, a baiting promise of dark euphoria that you can no longer pretend you don’t want desperately, defenselessly. Christabel gives you a sweet little wave. She is dripping in gold—dress, heels, jewelry—and seems happier tonight, more self-assured. Perhaps with the wedding so close, her trepidation concerning Aemond’s commitment has evaporated. Surely it is too late to call off the ceremony now. Tonight they feast, tomorrow they recite their vows, and then…

But no, you don’t think about the honeymoon. You will not allow yourself to. It can’t exist to you, and that is how you’ll survive this. Christabel will be in one universe, you in another, two timelines that never cross like something out of Star Trek. And the way she and Aemond interact is so impersonal, so untactile, that it is not so difficult to treat anything beyond chaste pecks on cheeks as an impossibility.

At the top of the staircase, Vhagar is lurking. She wags her long twiglike tail when she sees you and licks the knuckles of your left hand. You give her a pat on the head—and then several more when she whines as you try to leave—then at last she lopes off down the hallway.

Aegon is exactly where you’d assumed he’d be. He’s in his bedroom hunched over his computer and hammering furiously at the keyboard. There’s white powder on his fingers and in his thin mustache. On the screen, bizarrely, is what appears to be neon green grass and an ox-drawn wagon like the ones from the pioneer days. Sunfyre the ferret is stretched out across the bed napping, his angular face resting on his paws.

Aegon whirls around to face you. He is wearing a lime green satin suit but has forgotten to put on a shirt under it. “What? What? What do you want? I’m playing Oregon Trail. I have dysentery.”

“You have what…? Never mind, it’s not important. You need to come downstairs and eat some dessert. People are wondering where you are.”

“I’m busy.”

“If you don’t make an appearance on your own, Viserys will come looking for you. Also there are some Cap’n Crunch treats I left on the kitchen counter that you might be interested in.”

“Consider me tempted. I’ll be down momentarily.”

“You better be,” you tell Aegon, then retrace your steps back to the kitchen. Amir and Christabel are both there getting cans of Pepsi from the fridge and making very cumbersome small talk…or perhaps only Amir thinks it is that much of a burden. Christabel is chattering blithely away about different types of wildflowers. He gives you a look like Oh thank God, an excuse to escape and wastes no time heading back to the dining room.

“Did you notice what’s playing now?” he asks you just before he vanishes, then points towards the stereo in the grand foyer. You listen; it’s Money For Nothing by Dire Straits. “You think they know this song is about class warfare?”

“You should tell them,” you joke.

“Yeah, if I want to end up on Unsolved Mysteries.” Then Amir is gone.

“How are you doing?” you ask Christabel to be polite. You open the refrigerator and start hunting for your own can of Pepsi. “Excited? Nervous? You seem a little more relaxed than the last time I saw you. Are the wedding jitters finally dissipating?”

“They are,” she says, and when you glance back at her she is wearing a bashful sort of smile. It’s not an expression you can read. You resume digging through the refrigerator for a can of Pepsi; Amir and Christabel might have taken the last ones.

“That’s good,” you say noncommittally, hoping she’ll leave. But Christabel doesn’t leave. She seems to have something she needs to say. Just as you spy a lone can of Pepsi at the very back of the refrigerator and lean in to grab it, she proceeds to unburden herself.

“Well, you know, I was so concerned about me and Aemond before. I had no conviction that he especially liked me, and we never had anything to talk about, and he was so dreadfully undemonstrative…I was just beside myself, truly. I didn’t know what to do. But I feel much better about everything now. Norway was so good for us.”

Norway?

You close the refrigerator, your ice-cold Pepsi can clutched in your hand. You’re going cold all over. Slowly, you turn towards Christabel, glittering in her gold dress.

Norway???

“He took you on the North Sea trip.” You hear the words, but it doesn’t feel like you’ve said them. They sound flat and dazed.

“It’s a bit of a secret,” Christabel says; and again, her smile has no cruelty or sharp awareness in it, but her cheeks are pink. She’s blushing. What does she have to be embarrassed about? “My father doesn’t know. He wouldn’t approve. But I just felt…I felt ready, you know? I’m sure you understand what I mean. You aren’t so clinical and aloof about everything. I had to know if Aemond and I really had something between us before we got married.”

“You felt…ready?” Ready for what? Ready for WHAT, Christabel?

“I asked Aemond to take me with him. I begged, actually.” She giggles. “I won’t try to be proud about it! And finally he said yes. We stayed at a lovely hotel in Bergen, and during the day he would have to fly by helicopter out to the rigs, but at night…”

You’re staring blankly at her. You can’t believe what you think she’s going to say. Surely it must be something else, anything else—

“It wasn’t my plan to ever be intimate with a man before marriage, but sometimes…things change. Minds change, circumstances change. And I knew I wanted it. And it went so well! Now what do I have to be nervous about? All the uncertainties are resolved. Now we just sign the paperwork and start our lives together.”

He took her to Norway.

He slept with her in Norway.

“I hope it was just as good for him,” Christabel muses, a compulsive sort of oversharing. But she has had a few cocktails and she thinks you’re nonjudgemental and there’s probably not a single other soul she feels she can be truthful with…so why not the girl who got knocked up at prom and had a baby at seventeen? Surely she’s in no position to judge. “It’ll be even better once we can…you know. When we’re officially trying for a baby and there’s no need to worry about any precautions. I want Aemond to enjoy himself as much as possible. I want to be a good wife to him.”

You feel dizzy; you feel violently ill. And now you see everything: Aemond kissing her with his mouth open and ravenous, his hands between her legs, his hips pressed to hers, peeling off her clothes and learning how to make her moan, make her wet, make her come, and you think of how careful he must have been with her, a girl with no past, no ex-husband, no childbirth that nearly killed her, no stretchmarks and no baggage, just a smooth pristine rivulet of flesh that was so pure and uncontaminated it was weightless, and you can hear—though you don’t want to, though it feels like it will kill you—how tender he was, how encouraging, not a dominant who drinks down fantasies like a vampire sustained by blood but just a man, and a man who has at last found a woman he doesn’t need to grab, bite, bruise, handcuff to a bedpost to feel satisfied with.

He took her to Norway and he never told me.

You are saying something, and Christabel is nodding appreciatively, accepting the sage wisdom of a tarnished life. Your words don’t matter. They are folktales and charms, the croaks of bullfrogs, the whispers of the wind through Spanish moss, the Morse code of ripples in the water of the bayou. You are a novelty and your counsel is a souvenir; one day when she is living in California or Argentina or Australia or Alaska or her ancestral castle back in the U.K., Christabel will tell Aemond’s children: Once I met a nice single mom from Napoleonville Louisiana, and she told me to follow my heart and not let anyone shame me for wanting to be close with my soon-to-be husband.

Vhagar trots into the kitchen and begins nudging her massive head against Christabel’s bare knees. “Hi, big girl!” Christabel coos as she pets the blue merle Great Dane, clearly accustomed to this. “Who’s a giant gorgeous girl? You are!”

What did I expect? I knew they were getting married. I knew they were going to sleep together.

Yes, you knew it, but you hadn’t felt it, and now you have.

I can’t do this, you realize. I thought I could but I can’t.

“Christabel?” Alicent is calling like a windchime. “Darling, there are just a few more things we have to discuss before tomorrow, will you come back to the table please?”

“On my way!” Christabel replies obediently, and she gives you a quick, impulsive hug before vanishing.

I’m going to be sick. I’m going to have a heart attack. I’m going to drop dead right in the middle of this fucking kitchen.

Leaving your can of Pepsi forgotten on the countertop, you escape to the living room and then out the French doors into the garden. You run past the pool all the way to the pond full of multicolored fish you once hadn’t known were koi. You drop to your knees, then lie down on the cold cobblestones, and when it hits you again—Aemond touching her, Aemond loving her—you rupture into sobs that are breathless and shuddering. You try to stifle the noise with your palms; you clasp them over your mouth and smother your wails. It feels like you’re being ripped apart; it feels like you’re in labor, but there is no end, no consolation of a new life, no point at which your body chooses whether you live or die. It is only a razored wheel that turns in you again and again and again, shredding muscle and splitting bones.

There is a hand on your shoulder; someone is patting it awkwardly. You look up to see Aegon standing there. “Sorry,” he says. “You look…not good.”

“I’m really not good. I’m fucking terrible.” Your face is soaked and stinging with tears, your voice is strangled.

“Do you want some coke?”

“No, Aegon.”

“Do you want a ride home?”

“From you? Yeah, for sure, getting impaled by a stop sign would be a great next move for me.”

“I’m totally fine to drive.”

“Can you just pull Amir aside without anyone else noticing and tell him to say his goodbyes and then meet me in the driveway, please? He drove me here. I need him to take me home.”

“Okay,” Aegon says, and then: “Thanks for the Cap’n Crunch Treats. Thanks for remembering something I like and caring enough to bring more. No one really does that around here.” And he’s gone before you can think of a reply.

To get to the driveway without going though the house, you climb over a 5-foot wrought iron fence swarmed with rosebushes and ivy, no easy feat in a black Kmart dress and matching ballet flats. You acquire a dozen shallow gashes on your hands and forearms, but make it to the Ford Escort just in time for Amir to meet you under the full, cloudless moon, tossing his car keys from one hand to the other.

“What did—?” Then he sees your face. He gasps, knowing how bad it is. He’s never seen you like this. He didn’t know it was possible for you to look like this. He unlocks the Ford Escort and joins you inside, turning the key in the ignition. “What the fuck did Aemond do to you?!”

“I have to go home. It’s over, it’s over, I can’t do this.”

Amir is spinning out of the driveway. “Did he hurt you, did he—?!”

“He fucked Christabel in Norway,” you say, sobbing uncontrollably. “And I know I have no right to be jealous, I know we don’t have a conventional relationship, I thought I could handle this but I can’t. I can’t stop picturing him with her, and hearing it, and I…I…I don’t understand why this hurts so goddamn bad.”

“Babe,” Amir says gently, a palm on your trembling thigh. “You’re in love with him. That’s why.”

“This is killing me,” you whisper. You’re shaking all over. You feel like you’re battling for every breath.

Your best friend—your only friend—is quiet for a long time. “Don’t go tomorrow,” Amir finally says. “You don’t need to see the wedding. You shouldn’t put yourself through that. I’ll go, I can handle the cake alone, especially if Cadi’s with me to help with carrying plates and stuff.”

You don’t say anything. You stare out the nightscape window and mop tears from your face with McDonald’s napkins you find in Amir’s glovebox.

“Did you hear me? I don’t think you should go to the wedding tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” you agree hoarsely. “I can’t watch them have my wedding.”

“Willis is dropping Cadi off in the morning, right? I’ll pick her and the cake up from your house and bring her back when it’s over. You can tell her whatever you want…you have another cake order to work on, you’re sick, you’re injured, your mom needs a ride to the doctor, whatever.”

“Okay,” you whimper.

“Hey, look at me.”

You do, sniffling, shivering, in agony.

“You don’t deserve this. You deserve better than this.”

I don’t think I do. I think if I did, it would have happened by now. But you know Amir will not accept this answer. “Okay,” you say again, trying to make yourself believe it.

In the gravel driveway of your sinking house, Amir asks if you want him to say. You tell him no, you want to be alone, you have to think, you have to plan. Really, you just don’t want anyone to see you this shattered. It’s humiliating, it’s like you’re an animal, like something less than human needing to licks its wounds in a dark place. You walk into the Fall-Down House and flip on the kitchen light, artificial yellow luminance. You don’t start the air conditioner. You don’t touch the Panasonic boombox. You stand there mindlessly in the sounds of the bayou: cicada screams, owl hoots, the far-away hissing of gators. The wedding cake is in the refrigerator, banana bread, cream cheese frosting, a kaleidoscope of wildflowers painted by Amir’s expert hand. He’s leaving. Aemond’s leaving. Everyone is leaving.

There are tires crunching on gravel in the driveway, there are footsteps on the sloping porch. He is able to yank the door open because you never lock it. He blows in like a storm that kills.

“What the hell happened?!” Aemond shouts. “Why did you leave?! You didn’t even have the decency to say goodbye to me—”

“You took her to Norway.”

Aemond’s face goes from furious to lost. “Why would she tell you that?”

Not That’s not true, not Let me explain, not It didn’t mean anything. Your stomach sinks, a basket full of stones. “Because she thinks I’m her friend.”

“It wasn’t…” Aemond sighs. “It was a last-minute thing, and it was her idea. She really, really wanted to go to Norway, and I figured…you know…what’s the difference between the wedding night and a few weeks before it? So yeah, it happened—”

“Oh God,” you whisper, starting to sob again.

“And then I came home to your house, to your doorstep, because I missed you the entire time. The entire time, every hour, every minute, and there are no exceptions, okay, are you listening to me? I took her to Norway because I had to. I took you and Cadi to Clarence House because I wanted to. What I do with her is a reflex, an obligation, I’m on autopilot, I’m thinking of you to get myself hard, I don’t know how else to express to you how completely different these situation are in every single goddamn way.”

“She said it was good,” you say huskily, tears snaking down your cheeks that are raw from trying to dab them dry.

“Of course it was good for her!” Aemond flings back. “I’ve had a lot of casual sex, I know how to make women come, it’s a math equation, it doesn’t mean we’re soulmates!”

“I know I have no claim to you, but I…” You gaze out the kitchen window, dark and still, nothing to see but stars and lighting bugs. “I can’t do this.”

Aemond asks, kindly now: “What do you want?”

I want to not have to beg you to choose me. “I want this to be over.”

“No,” he says, panicking. “No you don’t.”

“I do.”

“You’re going to give this up as soon as it gets painful? I’m not worth fighting for, what I can do for you and Cadi isn’t worth a little pain? Because I’m no stranger to it either. You think I’m not hurting, you think nothing ever keeps me awake at night?”

“You could leave your prison any time you want to. But instead you built a brand new one around me.”

“You don’t understand what the kind of responsibility I’m beholden to feels like.”

“Yeah, a town named after Napoleon is the right place for you,” you seethe, enraged. “You’ve felt so fucking small your whole life that now you’re starving for what it tastes like to be in control. But I can’t let you destroy me. I can’t let my daughter grow up watching me settle for less than I need from a man. She’ll learn to live the same way.”

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

“Aemond,” you say, and you wait until he looks at you. “Do you really want children?”

When he answers, his voice frayed and his right eye misty. “I love Cadi.”

“That’s not what I asked. Do you want children of your own with Christabel?”

“I have to,” he says, miserable.

“No,” you plead. “You cannot have a baby with that girl. You can’t, Aemond. You are going to ruin so many lives, not just your own.”

“I have to,” he says again.

“Then get out. Viserys owns you, and Viserys wouldn’t want you here. He would want you back at the mansion impregnating your child bride.”

“She’s a legal adult, she’s 19, and she wants me, she begs for me, I’m not twisting her arm—”

“Then go!” you roar, striking him hard, both palms to his chest. Aemond doesn’t budge. “Get out, go home, go have kids you won’t give a fuck about just like Viserys never cared about you. Go repeat the cycle all over again. I’m done. I can’t be a part of it.”

“I won’t be like him,” Aemond swears.

“You will be. You already are.” You shove him again, but still, Aemond doesn’t move. You know what he’s waiting for, you know the right word to say. But you can’t get it to launch from your lips; it catches in your throat like a blade through the windpipe. “Get out!”

Your fingers hook into the lapels of his black suit jacket and stay there; you can’t let go. You’re both breathing heavily; you can hear it, you can feel the heat in the air. You keep his jacket gripped in your hands, he can move no closer, no farther away. When he leans into you, you breathe in his smoke and cologne; when his hands cradle your face, you feel the benevolent power that once gave you peace.

I want him. I need him. Not forever, no, I understand that’s not possible. But just for right now.

You look up at him and Aemond kisses you, his lips and tongue claiming you like untouched land; he puts down roots, he slits the jugulars of trespassers.

Here. Now.

You drag him down with you. When you drop to the floor, you strike the back of your skull against the scuffed, sloping wood and bite back a yelp.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Aemond says, though it isn’t his fault; he reaches for your head and cushions it with his right hand. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay.” You’re tearing open his white shirt; tiny translucent buttons go flying in every direction. Your palms glide over his chest, up to his throat, to his jaw, to knot in his hair. He reaches beneath your dress to slide off your panties, then buries his fingers between your legs. You moan helplessly, needfully, spreading your thighs wider for him. No man has ever been able to do this to you before: to make you forget everything, to make you feel—if only for a moment—beloved, worthy, chosen. He’s kissing you like he knows this is the last time. You’re touching the left side of his face and he doesn’t even notice, he won’t realize until later that there was a time when he was cured.

Aemond pulls his wallet out of the pocket of his suit pants, flips it open, and roots through it until he finds a condom. He starts to rip it open, moving with desperate speed, dire impatience.

“No, don’t,” you say. “Please don’t. I want all of you.” And I won’t get another chance.

He exhales in deep, ecstatic relief; he wants it too. You’re soaked, you’re ready, you’re aching for him like mending bones. He eases himself into you, gasping, and you are stunned by how good it feels already, how close you are, every rope of nerves and muscle glimmering with an opening heat that builds higher and higher, the reverse of a tornado finally touching down on earth. His hands are linked with yours and pinned to the floor above your head; he’s kissing you, he’s moaning into you, he thrusts deeper and harder when you beg him to do it.

Aemond untangles one hand from yours and reaches low to stroke you. Your fingers find his again and catch him, capture him, bring his hand back to the floor where it can be entwined with yours and his weight can hold it to the scraped wood. “I don’t need it, I’m close. Stay here. Stay with me.”

“I’m here,” he whispers, panting; and the friction of his body against yours overtakes you, and when you come it is blinding, bone-breaking, a whirlpool that traps you for what feels like over a minute, soaring highs punctuated by the illusion of fading over and over again until you think you can’t stand it, and only then does it end, Aemond collapsing on the floor beside you covered in your sweat and your wetness, you feeling the remnants of him bleeding down your bare thighs.

You drag yourself upright—muscles sore in your belly and back and thighs—and roll onto your knees so you can stagger to your feet. You tug on your panties so he doesn’t drip out of you onto the floor. Then you straighten the skirt of your black dress, turn on the little pink Panasonic boombox—it’s a U2 song, Where The Streets Have No Name—and begin washing a muffin tin that was left in the sink.

Aemond stands up and runs a hand through his hair, getting his bearings. He looks down at his pants and fixes his zipper and belt. He tries to close his shirt and then remembers you tore off the buttons. They lie scattered across the floor, useless.

As you scrub the muffin tin, you hear Aemond’s footsteps behind you. His palms begin at the small of your back and then skate around your waist to encircle you.

“Stop,” you tell him; and immediately his hands fall away. Aemond waits for you to say more, but you don’t. You don’t even look at him.

He walks to where the kitchen becomes the living room—you can tell by the creaks in the floor—and again, he waits. After a while he says: “I’ll call you when the new house is ready.”

“No. Have Criston handle it. I don’t ever want to talk to you again.”

“You get that I’m in love with you, right?” Aemond forces out, and when at last you turn to him there is the metallic glistening of tears on his right cheek. “I never feel this way about anyone. I don’t know how to handle it, I didn’t even know it was possible. But it’s true.”

“It’s not enough,” you say simply, and resume scrubbing the muffin tin.

He waits in silence, thirty seconds, a minute, two minutes. Then the door opens and shuts—like the jaws of a beast—and he’s gone.