#it feels like my grip on things is just. lightly slipping away. wisp by wisp

[sillyscientists]

hhng

[muffindaddystyles]

LOST IN ITALY.

Where Harry's cute assistant gets lost in city of Italy and the thought of loosing her drives him bullocks.

Flatulent gust of breezy wind kept wiggling through Harry’s coffee lovelocks, sunshine bounces against his soft skin and his pink heart-shaped mouth stays puckered as he takes in the beauty of his surroundings with his cheek smashed over his wrist – which’s resting atop the rooftop of yacht and his head perks up puppy like when tufty giggles maroons in his ears.

He gazes his cute assistant from under his ray bans and skims back a timid smile when her face beams with glee, her cotton puffy sleeved sundress blows away from the breeze giving glimpses of her plump thighs and Harry sucks in a breath snapping his eyes away.

“Harry look s’beautiful!” She squeals taking another picture of landscape with her grandpa's vintage Yoshika camera and Harry just rumbles his lips, shrugs and slumps back, a lazy mumble of “mehhh” elicits past his lips.

She’s just so endearing, and cute and fucking adorable it’s hard for Harry to keep from not babying her.

When he first went to sets of My Policemen he considered her rather unprofessional, as everyone kept on finding her but it seemed like she vanished into thin air, turned out when Harry took a break in his cubby she was lighting up saffron and black scented candles, “Oh! Thought you’d like comin' back to nice smelling room —-- holy fudge .... by the way, me Y/N your new assistant for the meantime.” His all grumpiness defused into bunch of reverence for her.

She'd always beat him to bringing in brekkie and smoothies for him and her fellows, sometimes giving him the velvet muffins before he goes back home --- Harry became such a drooly lovey puppy for her that he decided to keep it stern from then.

He’s trying. He’s prolly gonna fail.

Y/N isn’t very immune to water trips and she was well aware that a sickness is coming – but so soon? She didn’t know that!

So, when she chokes onto nothing and then gags driving Harry into fritz. Harry tries to keep his balls in place and not panic because that’d just spill his secret and expose him.

He quickly facades himself under stoniness, “Christ! Y/N if you die on me —-,” Though, grabs her elbow lightly and walks her to the edge of the deck.

Y/n smacks his hand away. Glares him and grunts pushing her hair away aggressively, “Don’t tell me what to do I’ll die wherever the hell I want!” His pupils resembling to that of clashing waves of sea blows away comically as she huffs and pushes past him.

“Better die and ghost you for life.” She gags into her elbow again and he rushes to grab her hand, when she pulls away with a tut he rolls his eyes brings his glasses to the bridge of his nose and looks at her from under the brown sunnies, “Jeez just holdin' a hand, not gonna slip a ring, ‘s that what yer afraid of.”

“Just admit you’re desperate to hold my hand.” She smirks up at him and he cackles, then dims into nervous chuckles because oh fuck he’s getting caught red handed.

“No.” He mutters.

How much she resists not to pout and turn all fussy over his denial she ends up doing so and it’s his turn to smirk cheekily at her.

“Are you mad? You look mad.” He wiggles his finger at her and she grumbles folding her arms infront of her bosom and cranes her head to side, “I’m not mad.”

“Yer pretty face’s all screwed up, like you’re mad.” He nibbles at her and she glowers him --- sighing at last, the wisp of her hair falling in her eyes, her lips plush and glossy from sick.

“I’m perturbed, not mad.”

Then there’s an overrated pause of silence and heartbeats before Harry pokes her knee.

“You still look mad.” His face splits into a wide cheeky grin – showing his bunny teeth and she stands up hastily wobbling a little.

“’M’not mad! But I’ll be soon Harry Styles!!!!” She goes for smacking him at chest but he jerks back and sneaks his way out squealing annoyingly, “Mommy come save me from this feisty sea-creature.”

“You mean a mermaid?” She giggles.

“No. Frogfish.” He deadpans.

“I’m not talking to you ever again!” She cries out and turns away from him but he barks out a laugh --- riling her up is the most entertaining thing and seeing her make cute fussy faces another.

“’Kay, sorry! Wouldn’t do it again.” He toddles behind her and glides his forearm against her clavicles bringing her to his front, “Says this everytime!” She squirms pushing him away but he’s ten times stronger than her and even if she’s ... she’d want to spend some more time like this.

“Wouldn’t call ye' frogfish —-.. from now on.” She nods. Humming in agreement and he turns her, holding her from shoulders and looks down at her with glinting eyes and wide toothy mouth.

“How ‘bout blobfish? They look more funny.”

“I’m gonna kill you, Harry Styles!”

..

They were given a loft infront of the shore 10 minutes drive away from the shooting place and after fighting over who'll occupy the bed, bickering and pillow fighting over it and almost making it creaky loose bench Y/N went back to living room telling him that he snores so much, “Sorry but ‘m too sensitive to piggy snorey noises – better sleep outside.” He was fuming and gritty mess, flailing his limbs like a baby because he was “the hair on his directors head” away from sharing the bed with her.

“Whateva! your loss. Don’t come t'me beggin’ to pop your backbones.” He told her in high pitched mimickness and flumped under cool sheets.

His one hour nap turned into two then three. In the meantime, Y/N made a sandwich from the fresh veggies piled in the fridge, sipped onto her matcha drink sitting beside the window and enjoyed he view, even went through her socials.

Realized that she’s missing him around her terribly even if it’s just jokes and giggles and shit, whatever, so she took her camera and went outside to take pictures of shore and the purple sky battling with hue of clouds.

She got so charmed with Italy's beauty that she kept on walking and taking pictures, only to realize when the bustle of crowd dropped into tranquil quietness and she found herself into some unknown street.

She’s fucked.

She’s lost.

She has got nothing,

Not even her phone.

She contemplates to knock on the house doors and ask for locations but she’s petrified of the idea and tries to find some shop, so she could call someone and ask them to pick her up.

Dumb. Dumb. Dumbest decision, she has ever taken in her life.

When she sees no passer by, none tourists no-one in sight and the daylight defusing and darkness laughing and taunting her tears springs in her eyes --- bubbling at the corners and weeping down furiously.

Her heartbeats drops dead when she sees a group of men approaching towards her. She runs away hiding into the dark tunnel and clamps her mouth shut from crying out loud when they walk away -- they weren’t about to do anything to her – it was just her feared instincts.

“Harry ......” She whisper-cries into her wrist, her legs weak and trembly making her tumble down into dusty stoned pavement, her back getting scratched from the bricked wall of tunnel.

..

Harry woke up to pin-drop silence. Void of the sun that was once glimmering through the window, “Y/N.” He grogs out, knuckling the sleepiness away and trudged out finding the room empty.

It startles him. Waking him up properly now. A sweat flushes down his spine when he couldn’t even find her in the washroom and at the door-steps.

He dials her number and finds it at the coffee table, gruff cruses breathes out from his mouth at that.

FuckFuckFuckFuck.

His heart feels like someone’s squeezing it mercilessly in their grip when he goes outside, but couldn’t spot her and he finds it difficult to breathe, chest heaving as he snaps his head in every direction to look for the face he’s oh so in love with.

Where are you, Y/N?

Maybe, she’s angry with me? Did I hurt her in any way? Oh, fuck. I’m such a bitch.

Now, she’s angry with me and hiding in some corner cursing me out.

I have to bring her back.

So, he calls anyone in connection with Y/N in hopes that she’s with anyone of them and when there were, “no mate --- maybe check in the washroom...” and “last time she texted, said she’s going out to take pictures.”

Harry’s face pales at that. Sick to his stomach. His fists tighten by his sides to keep his calm the world around him spins for a moment and he stables himself with the nearby railing.

Bad thoughts spirals in his mind, how much he avoids them it frightens him like his worst enemy.

What if she’s hurt? It hurts him in heart even to think that.

Got into an accident and they took her?

Fuck.

What if some mafia has kidnapped her.

Obviously, Italy is famous for mafias ..... No!No!No! Harry shut up, shut up, shut uppppp!!

He screams internally to pause everything and think rationally.

He searches for her everywhere. In every street. His feet hurting until now and he chokes onto a sob, not even wanting to think of getting police involved and still not able to have her back.

He shouts for her name. Halting past anyone looking like her, that mini dress she flaunted infront of him with a gorgeous smile –-- asked him how it looked on her and he wasn’t very interested to give a response.

If he could take all of it back and praised her like his life depended on it, only if he’d told her how much he loves her, her making sure he’s comfortable in his cubby, her bringing cold milk drinks for him, dividing her oreos with him.

His hands shakes by his side, his lip twitching constantly and his legs trembles pathetically with each step he takes.

He stops. Narrows his eyes to squint through the darkness and he feels like someone blew oxygen back in his lungs, his knees weakening at the sight of some girl sitting on the bench, her shoulders slump and her head downwards as she clutches the edge of bench, rocking on it with quite sniffles.

He prays that it’s her.

Upon, hearing the footsteps Y/N looks up and those sweet eyes are enough for him to recognize her in between many people.

“Harry?” Her voice feeble and scared.

“Oh baby .....” He mumbles. Rushing towards her, stumbling back a bit when she flies in his arms and latches to him like the missing piece of her body.

His palms curves into her ribs, her face smashed into the crook of her neck – her tears wetting his skin instantly and his cheek squished atop her sweaty hair, he hugs her for dear life making her legs dangle in the air, she sobs nuzzling deeper into his throat and he caresses her shoulders to soothe her cries down. Kisses the side of her temple with tender affection and sighs in relief.

“Shhh. Shh baby, ‘s okay. I’ve found y’now ..... ‘m here sweetheart ‘s alright.” He doesn’t stop splodging soft pecks to her forehead – scared that if he’ll she’ll get lost from his arms again.

Her hiccups painful not letting her take a breather and Harry puts her down on her feet gently, taking her face in his clammy hands and hooks his thumb into her hair gazing into her glassy eyes intensely, “Hey look at me lovie’ just .. focus on me alright?” She nods at his plea grabbing his wrists and follows his breathing pattern.

He glances back at the bench and goes to grab her camera but she cries out fisting the hem of his corduroy shirt in her tiny hands, “No!” could barely choke out from her dry throat and he turns his attention back down onto her, strokes the rosy apple of her cheeks and pets her head.

“Not leavin’ yer side baby .. was bout to get your camera fo’ you. Could come with me if you don’t like stayin' away.” He assures her softly and trots towards the bench with his arms still around her as she keeps on hiding her face into his bicep.

They walk down the street like that, she has calmed down letting a sniffle slip here and there --- this kind of scenario has never happened to her before – she has never been outside of her home city before too.

He feels her tummy screech for food so asks her, chin butted atop her head, “You’re hungry, petal. Let’s get pizza.” She doesn’t feel like eating though. When she shakes her head – squeezing him more. He takes her from shoulders looking down at her with gentleness and brushes a strand of hair behind.

“Just a tad, darlin'. I know a delicious take away round the corner ... could eat it sittin' by shore.” He offers her with a smile and punches the air happily, whistling when she agrees.

When she giggles softly, defrosting back from numbness Harry spins them a little overly gleeful.

“Got me sweet girl back.” He exclaims ducking down to kiss her cheek and now when she’s less wobblish, her lungs fills with bunches of butterflies.

Blush splatters on her features. As Harry aligns his tanned arm with her delicate one and locks their fingers together lulling it backs and forth between them lovingly.

He keeps her tucked under his chin and snuggled in his arms all the time, even while waiting in the line for the take away.

“Ow!” Squeaks, “Ow. Ow.” Jumps on his tippy toes upon balancing the hot pizza on his palm.

Grins like a mad man when succeeds in making her laugh, takes her hand and helps her climb down slippery stones.

Goosebumps arises on her skin from shyness when he coils his strong arm around her to pick her up, with pizza in his other hand and giggles breathily in her ear upon hearing her squeals.

She sits in between his knees. Leans against his chest and inhales his woodsy vanilla scent, nibbles onto the crust while hearing his heartbeat.

“You scared the living hell out of me, lovie’ ... thought —-... thought I’d never be able to have you back again ... proper vanished.” He croaks out. Runs his nose up and down the sweet curve of her neck.

“Made me realise ... that I don’t want to be away from you, ever.” Y/n's breath hitches at that and she turns in his embrace. Looks at him with surprised doe eyes and coos when his eyes gloss over with wetness, that he’s forcing to keep at waterline.

“I really like you, Y/N.”

“You do?” She gasps.

He bobs his head giddily, “Can you picture it? You and I together?” He murmurs mellow street light dancing between them.

“’Us'? I like the sound of that....” She smiles searching for his hand and he grasps it eagerly like he was yearning for it.

“Kay then, when could I take you on a date?” He grins. Dimples mauving deep and pretty.

“This isn’t a date?”

“We’re in Italy. The sky's so romantic and I’ve got you, seems like a date to me....” She peppers kisses to each rosy gap of his knuckles and his inside bursts like they never did before.

“Kay then. It’s memorable too, you got lost on our first day –--”

“Harryyyy....” She whines nudging him in belly with her elbow. “’Kay we could change that.” He laughs. Showering her in kisses and her laughs whirls loudly into quite air, trying to squirm away from his tickles.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mark of the Beast

Please be kind. I haven’t written werewolves before and this is an unedited drabble I did to distract myself. Hope you enjoy werewolf!Thor and needless to say it’s dark.

Reblog and comment if you like, please and thank you.

Warnings: noncon and rape, exophilia, blood, biting.

You sat along the edge of the yard, just at one of those picnic tables set with chips, salsa, and other finger foods; most of it crumbs and smears as the night wore on. The fire licked up into the sky as the strangers chatter drunkenly, laugh loudly, and sing and dance wildly to the music floating from the bassy bluetooth speaker.

Parties were never your scene and you don’t know why you agreed to come. You didn’t even know why you were asked. You never were the fun friend, hell you were often the forgotten one. The one who found out they weren’t invited or when you were privileged enough to be asked along, it was because someone else fell through.

Well you couldn’t take another night in your boxy apartment, sitting there alone as you watched the same shows over and over again. Restless as nothing ever seemed to change and yet time continued to pass you by.

You noticed how as the sky darkened, the guests began to couple up and trickle away from the flames of the tiki torches and the empty keg. You thought this kind of thing was better left to college kids. 

The early summer night was cool and dull blue as clouds streaked the sky. You hadn’t seen the sun directly since noon and it cast an odd haze over the party. Even so, there had been much screaming and shrieking on the oversized slip and slide. Again, these people, you included, were too old to be throwing their drunken bodies around.

Valerie giggled as she hung off the slender man with the black hair. He wore a green button up and black jeans. His clothes were pressed and pristine. He looked out of place amid the group. He looked like you felt.

She grabbed his collar and led him away from the few stragglers still grinding around to the retro tones of TLC. You stood as she headed for the trees. She was your ride and you didn’t feel like staying all night so she could get laid by some stranger. You didn’t even know how she got invited to this.

The sky shifted and dimmed a little more. You collided with a large body as you made to catch up with Valerie. You recognized the blonde man. He’d been lurking throughout the night, socializing over the top of red plastic cup, at one point chatting with the black-haired man Valerie was flirting with and helping tap the keg when it was overturned in some dumb stunt.

“Oh, excuse me,” you said as his large hand settled on your arm, “um, I’m just…”

“You don’t like the party?” he asked in his booming voice.

“What? No, I--”

“You’ve been hiding over here all night,” he said, “and you haven’t looked very happy about it.”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” you countered.

“Well, this is my party,” he said lightly, “Thor.”

He removed his hand from your arm and offered it to you. You looked at it reluctantly then glanced around him.

“I’m here with my friend. We should probably go--”

“The one who just disappeared with my brother?” he chuckled, “I don’t think you want to walk in on that.”

“Then maybe I’ll just call a cab,” you shrugged, “but I should get--”

“Why did you come? To glower in the corner and feel sorry for yourself?”

“No, I… you don’t know me.”

“No, I do not but that is not my doing. You sit here and isolate yourself to the point that anyone who approaches you, cannot break that barrier you’ve put up. The one you blame on those around you but you’re the only one enforcing it,” his blue eyes were pale, almost silver as the clouds darkened, and you realised in that moment how big he was.

“I didn’t ask for your--”

“You wouldn’t know what to ask for if you found the nerve,” he gave a crooked smile, “you don’t know what you want, what you need.”

He leaned in as his voice turned to a growl, something animalistic as he leaned in and his shadow shut out the sky.

“I know I want to leave,” you said as you stepped back, only to hit the low bench behind you.

“Did you not notice?” he asked.

“Notice what?” you sidled along the wood and he stopped you, this time his fingers gripped your arm tightly.

“That everyone else is gone. They’ve found their mate…” he lowered his voice to a gristle, “the moon is close and they must consummate their pairing.”

“What are you--” you gasped as you saw the way his canines pointed dangerously and grazed along his lip.

“All in my pack made their claim,” he whispered as he leaned in and the silver moon flickered behind the wisping clouds, “I’m making mine.”

“Get off--”

Suddenly you were spun around and flung so you landed in the grass, your knees and the heels of your hands scraping against the twigs and pebbles. Before you could try to stand or turn, he was behind you. His large hands braced your throat and he pulled you onto your knees so that your back was to his torso as he lowered himself behind you.

His nose tickled your ear as he inhaled your scent and a growl crackled in his throat. His fingers tightened and you felt sharp claws prodding at your flesh. His breath picked up as you felt his body tremble. The clouds parted at last and the full moon painted the grass silver.

“You have no purpose, I see it,” his voice grinded roughly, “you are lost but I have found you…”

“Let me--” you rasped and wheezed as he choked you harder.

“You don’t know. How can you realise that I have chosen you for a greater need?” he slid one hand to the back of your neck and pushed you down sharply so that you were face down in the grass, “I can smell it on you… ripe for a pup.”

He flipped your over harshly and his hand pressed to your jaw as he squeezed it painfully. You grasped his wrist in terror as the moon limned the fine fur that had risen across his skin, his long blonde hair blending into his thick main as his eyes glowed eerily.

“I… I...what are you?”

“What are you?” he repeated back, “can you tell me that?”

“Please, don’t--”

“You’re mine,” he snarled as he dragged a long nail over your shirt and sliced through the fabric easily, his other hand still framed your jaw, “if you survive, you will carry my pup, if you don’t… an honourable death.”

You slapped at his hand as his fingers hooked in the front of your jeans and he janked them down in a single motion. Your panties caught in the denim as he brought his foot up to push them down to your ankles. He pushed his knee between your thighs and dug a nail into your hip. Hot blood rose around his claw.

“I can smell it all. The loneliness, the desperation, the fear… it’s delicious.”

His claw flicked over your clit lightly as he pushed your folds apart. He played with you as you squirmed helplessly and gripped his arm, one hand on his wrist and the other on his bicep.

“No, no--” you murmured as your body went into shock, the pleasure of his teasing like a muffled shout in your core.

When his hand moved from your cunt, you felt its absence more intensely. He brought his other knee between your legs and pushed them further apart until your jeans slipped from one ankle. He lifted your left leg and hooked his arm under it and leaned on you as he lined himself up.

You pushed on his chest as the moonlight limned his silhouette above you and clenched as he prodded against your entrance. He cradled your face and dropped his head down beside yours as he pinned you under his weight, your leg bent uncomfortably as your other splayed against his hip.

He poked at your resistance and when he finally pushed through, you cried out into the night. He was thick, so thick, and when you thought you could handle no more, he pushed further in. You strained around his cock as he snapped his hips up and when he filled you entirely, you whimpered as you felt him in your stomach.

You tangled your fingers in his hair as his hot breath tickled along the crook of your neck. He pulled back and you let go of the breath in your chest only to suck it back in as he thrust sharply. You whined as he jolted your entire body and sank his teeth into your flesh. The shock of pain mingled in your core and filled your veins with an irresistible heat. He removed his fangs from you and dragged his bloodied lips down your neck.

“If you fight it, you will suffer,” he purred, “give in… you feel it, don’t you?”

He rutted faster as his breath kept time with his hips. Your body was alight against the cool grass as your eyes rolled back. Your moans added to your horror as they rose without thought, roused by the friction of his pelvis against yours and the slapping of flesh on flesh.

He fucked you faster and harder with each tilt and held your head between two hands as he looked down at you. His thumbs rubbed your cheekbones as he kissed you hungrily and the taste of your own blood stained your lips.

You felt hollow and light. The weight of him faded and you were on high and your lashes fluttered as the silver nights and his dark shadowed coloured your vision. You curled your fingers over your chest as you came and arched beneath him like a wild animal. The orgasm sent heat through you from head to toe and you whined and whimpered desperately.

Thor hammered into you even harder and his growls filled your head. He snaked his arm under you and slammed his hips down so viciously that every bone in your body ached.

“Oh, little one,” he snarled, “you take me so well…” his thumb brushed over the bite on your neck, “you wear my mark like a true bitch.”

He buried himself completely and panted rampantly as he spasmed. His cum flooded you and seeped and squelched around him as he gave a final thrust. He held himself as deep as he could and nuzzled your cheek as the smell of his sweat filled your lungs.

“Mine,” his teeth brushed against you and you shivered as a sudden fatigue weighted your eyelids, “that’s it…” his voice grew further and further away, “let it take you, little one.”

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

heartspace, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Min Yoongi will always be the one. The one on top, the one above all others, the one who has a space in your heart. Sometimes, Yoongi questions it. You have to remind him that no one commands you like he can, and he reminds you that no one can take you from him.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; smut (fem reader, fingering, nipple play, m-receiving oral, doggy, scratching / marking, hair-pulling, cock warming); PWP; softdom!Yoongi

yes, I have been planning this ever since I released ‘headspace’. happy birthday Yoongi! <3 I would have pretty words for you, but I literally write smut about you, so how about you not practice your English here because I know you’re secretly fluent. I’ll give you the ‘I-love-you’ speech some other time XD

--

"I'm here."

You felt his fingers trail down your exposed arms, drumming down your skin. He took your hands, tracing your silver rings, humming satisfyingly. A familiar view, a fair skinned wrist with silver chain bracelets. He curled his long fingers around yours, caressing the inside of them. You could smell his cologne, scarcely sweet and musky woods, just a hint here and there, wisps that seemed almost imaginary. 

"To remind you that you're mine."

His grip tightened around your wrists.

A swift pull, spinning you around in your computer chair, tearing you away from the keyboard. Fluffed black hair, brushing against dark brown, cat-like eyes. A pensive smile and two silver hoops on each ear. All black, turtleneck, leather jacket, slacks. Your favorite. 

Your shadow. 

Min Yoongi. 

"I... I can explain."

The smile turned into a smirk. 

"No need."

He intertwined his fingers with yours, squeezing them, unforgiving metal of the rings digging into both your hands. Leaned down, pushing your rolling chair into your desk so it stopped, husky voice against your chin. He stroked one of your silver rings, spinning it around your index finger. 

"Yoongi..."

He purred your name, drawing it out syllable by syllable, letting it slowly assault your ears. Your skin tingled as he pulled you up, your loose black t-shirt too thin, feeling far too much as he tugged you to him, his inescapable gravity and wicked smirk. 

“You smell different today,” he murmured, your bare legs brushing against his slacks.

You did smell different. Like burning wood and roasted sweet chestnuts, a new scent you found that instantly attracted you. That’s how you were. You encountered things and you immediately loved them, intensely, addictively, forever.

Just like Min Yoongi.

“Mmm.”

His hand traveled under the hem of your shirt, grabbing your thigh and sinking his fingers into it with a soft hiss. You bit your lip, closing your eyes, falling into the touch, letting it consume you. There were not a lot of things that could make you give in, but you believed in your instincts and trusted them. Your instincts always told you where to go, what to do, who to go to. With one glance, you could pinpoint if you would like something or not, even in unfamiliar territory. Your instincts always guided you to your loves. The things you loved always became significant, always changed your life, always had your devotion through time, space, and dreams.

They became obsessions and they never stopped.

Yoongi buried his face into your neck and inhaled, moaning softly.

“Smells so good. Warm. Like a comforting memory,” he mumbled.

“Reminded me of you.”

And it had. The second you smelled it; memories of his embrace had blanketed around you.

He lifted his head and his eyes were on yours. Half-lidded, plagued by dark circles, the loveliest black-brown in the whole world. You normally hated eye contact, but not in this space, not with him. Your hands slid under his leather jacket, wrapping around his waist. Yoongi leaned in, kissing you once more, pressing your body to his, leather and softness. He reached into his jacket and possessively tucked one of your hands in his.

“Sometimes,” he muttered against your lips. “Sometimes I think I don’t have your love.” His fingers caressed yours as you kneaded his waist underneath the turtleneck. "Do you not want me around anymore?"

A small smile drifted onto your lips. You reached up with your free hand and tugged the collar of your t-shirt down, revealing your silver necklaces. 

"You're always with me."

Yoongi’s dark eyes traveled down your neck, to the first one, seeing the tiny circular overlapping pendants. His name etched in the lower one, his birthstone set in the upper one. A tiny, contented smile. The others were a tangle of chains and charms, but Yoongi was the one who mattered most, so he was on top. 

Always on top. 

“What if you lose that?” he teased.

You chuckled. “So what? I could lose everything I own, but I would still love you, Yoongi.” You placed your forehead against his. “My head could be full of someone else, but there is always a space in my heart for you.”

The things you loved.

They are always and forever.

He raised his hand and placed a single fingertip in between your collarbones. Your spine tingled, scalp prickling as he slid it up your neck, lips parting as he watched it travel over your skin, up your chin and onto your plush lips, nail snagging on the softness.

“Such lovely words, but this mouth can do such dirty things,” Yoongi breathed, the side of his curving upwards playfully. You quirked your eyebrow and opened your mouth, licking the tip of his finger with your tongue, smiling around it.

“I can have pure feelings and a filthy mind.”

Yoongi cocked his brow to match yours, smirk widening to reveal his white teeth. “And you certainly do. I have no idea how your mind works.”

And then before you could respond, Yoongi shoved two fingers into your mouth, rubbing them against your tongue. You chuckled, wrapping your lips around them, sucking daintily, tongue swirling, slipping between them, drawing figure-eights. His eyes on you, darkening, darkening, the sparks of desire stroked to black flame, burning intensely as you placed the tip of your tongue all the way down to the skin where his two fingers connected, down to his knuckles, his fingers almost down your throat.

“You have such a tiny mouth,” he purred. “Astounded that my cock can fit in there.”

Yoongi pulled his fingers out and you gasped, strings of saliva dripping down and snapping against your chin. There was something about his expression, not trying to trick you, not trying to seduce you, simply aware of what he was going to do and that he was going to do it. There was no one to stop him. 

In fact, you patiently awaited it.

His free hand closed on the hem of your pajama shirt and slipped under, pushing your panties to one side and shoving his wet fingers into your pussy.

“Ah, Y-Yoongi!”

He smiled, sliding his fingers in and out, and you raised one of your legs, hooking it around his hip, one hand on his shoulder, moaning as he rubbed the inside of your walls, feeling all of you, watching your face the entire time, your pussy throbbing at the knowledge of being observed so intently. His other hand snuck up your back, drawing patterns on the thin black fabric, hardly a barrier from his touch, and then he traveled further up, running his fingers through your hair, tangling them at the base and yanking back, neck exposed, your moans deepening, saturated with lust, the pace of his fingers inside you increasing. You clenched around them, breath hitching at the pricks of pain, viscous juices soaking his hand and coating his knuckles. Yoongi leaned forward, inhaling your scent once more.

“Cum for me,” he purred, teeth on your neck, nipping lightly, pinches of red marks.

Pulling a little harder, thrusting a little deeper, sucking on the space in between your collarbones, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, whimpering as the sensitive skin was bitten and the insides of your walls roughly rubbed, grinding into his hand to stimulate your clit and it was too hot, too much, pushing you over the edge.

“Oh, fuck, Yoongi…”

Pussy clamping around his digits, pulsating violently, your juices sliding down the back of his hand and his palm, covering him with you. A short reprieve, Yoongi letting you ride the high, sighing in satisfaction as he felt your walls shiver with the aftershocks. His other hand released your hair and you panted hard, tipping your head back up, only to be forced to raise your arms as Yoongi yanked your shirt up. You pulled it over your head, shaking your hair out, now wild and messy. He snapped a finger on your black bra strap, impatient expression telling you to take it off. You undid it with one hand and, as soon was it fell to the floor, Yoongi ripped his fingers out of you. You yelped at the suddenness, abruptly turning into a moan as Yoongi took his slick fingers covered in your cum and smeared them over your breasts, circling around your hard nipples, pinching them in between his slippery touch.

“Fuck, I love these nipples,” Yoongi muttered, dipping his head down to your chest, breathing in the scent of your orgasm. “So fucking big and soft and hard, all at once.”

He wrapped his lips around one and sucked off your juices with a moan, cleaning up his mess by licking all over your breasts. He placed his two wet fingers around the other, pinching and tugging on it, trailing his tongue up and down, up and down, matching pace, drenching your skin with his saliva before collecting it all back up and circling the sensitive hardened nub with the wetness, flicking his tongue against it, gentle, intense, continuous, until you were shaking and shivering against him.

Your hands came up and held his head, pushing back his black hair, moaning as you ran your fingers through it, over and over, his large hands pressing your tits together and playing on your nipples with his lips and fingers, sucking hard.

There were a lot of words in this world and none of them could describe exactly how Yoongi made you feel, like he could set everything on fire while also being the water rushing through you, burning and drowning, his brown orbs looking up at you, silent, but clear with his lust, reflecting you in his eyes. 

A mirror, so akin to you.

And yet not, because he was Min Yoongi. 

His other hand fitted in the curve of your back, forcing you to arch more, trailing his tongue over your chest, humming at your soft cries. 

"You always look so good no matter what I'm doing to you," he mused, lazily licking off your other nipple. 

"It's because you're the one doing it," you panted, shivering as he blew on your wet skin. 

"Hm, I don't think so. I think you're just hot as hell."

He kissed up your chest, on your lips once more, sighing softly, your sharp sweet taste on his lips, both hands on your breasts, pinching your nipples with his knuckles. You whined into his mouth, and he shushed you with rough kisses as he rubbed them just as roughly, pain and pleasure, working you until you were breathless, gasping, pleading for more. He chuckled, releasing them, earning a frantic whimper, his mouth still pressed to yours. You heard him shrug off the leather jacket, dumping it on the chair. Nudging you forward to the bed, staying in stride with you, and you, grip on his turtleneck, yanking it out of his slacks, his smirk against your smirk. 

"What if," Yoongi murmured, hands enveloping yours, tracing your silver rings. "One of my rings was here?" Tapping your left ring finger, mischievous spark underneath his lashes. 

"Do I get to put one here?" you teased, sliding one between his and wrapping it around his left ring finger. 

"Ah, they should match, shouldn't they?"

You grinned, tumbling onto the bed and dragging him with you, Yoongi quirking an eyebrow, tone rich and deep as he continued.

"You like white gold or platinum?"

You tugged his turtleneck up and off his head, letting it fall to the floor, running a hand through his fluffed black hair as you mused.

"I'll let you pick," you purred. "And then I can pick one."

"For where?"

"For here."

Yoongi sucked in a breath, narrowing his eyes and mouth at you, cheeks puffing a little, but there was no mistaking the amusement in his words. 

"At least service him before you start putting him in prison."

You unlatched your grip on his clothed cock. 

"What am I, but of service?" 

He watched your tongue trace your lips as you slid down, unbuttoning his slacks, zipper being teased down, a pleased smile growing as his clothes were tugged off, crumpling to the floor. 

"Let me help you," Yoongi drawled as you lowered your head, calm hands gathering your hair to a long ponytail, winding it around his palm before turning his hand around, fitting his hold to the back of your head. You raised an eyebrow at his smirk.

"It's going to be like that?"

His eyes darkened, black hair falling over them. 

"You love it like that."

That's true. Familiar words came back to you, almost like a mantra.

What if you live like that?

Tongue sliding out, licking him all over, dripping saliva down his length, his cock already hard and insistent against your lips, hot and trembling, pleading for attention, but you nuzzled past, wrapping your lips around one of his balls and swirling your tongue around it, listening to his deep moan, smokey and raspy, your name mixed with his sounds of appreciation, hand firm on the back of your head. You switched sides, back and forth, sucking one as you licked the other, accompanied by loud slurps that made Yoongi's hips jerk, euphoric gasps filling your room. 

"Fuck, that's a dangerous mouth..." he hissed. "You could make anyone fall for you with your mouth alone."

You snaked your tongue along his stiff length, side to side, tracing the contours with your wet muscle, finally coating the tip with a thick layer of warmth, seeing Yoongi watch you with hunger, his long fingers pressed into your scalp. 

"Down," he growled. 

You obeyed. 

Swallowing it all, all the way to the base, his cock twitching in your mouth. Yoongi gasped sharply, holding you down, your throat constricting around the head, barely able to breathe, but you were in Yoongi's hands now. 

Your favorite pair of hands to command you.

"Fuck... fuck..."

He tilted his hips and you fell on your side, silver necklaces jangling, steadying yourself with your elbow. Slow but forceful, sliding out and pushing back in, moaning softly as he fucked your face, your hands in his sides, nails digging in, whining around his thickness, pushing your tongue against the bottom to make it tighter, better, his strong taste coating your mouth, so good your mind was a bit hazy from it or was it the intensity of his thrusts that was leaving you breathless?

You tensed your throat muscles and Yoongi chuckled, breathing hard.

"You sure you haven't practiced on someone else? You're too good at this, fuck..."

It was impossible to reply, think, or breathe, clawing at his back, rocking your body with his, your own power intoxicating you, knowing Yoongi was close to his end by the increased speed and roughness, grip on your head unforgiving, bouncing you back and forth with the force of his hips, your wet lips smacking his balls and crotch, the head repeatedly burying itself in your throat, stretching it out just like how Yoongi would stretch you out soon.

"Fuck, I know you love it when I use your mouth like this," he snarled. 

I do. I love all the things you do to me. 

He clenched his jaw and a grating hiss fell from his lips, thrusting deep and spilling down your throat, you whimpering as you swallowed hurriedly, hands splayed over his back and ass, holding him there so you could drink it all, tongue pressed along his length to feel his cock throb with every spurt of cum painted down your throat. There was no time to think about breathing, completely dazed by his strong taste and the forced manner that you had to consume his orgasm, visceral and obscene.

"Time for your other hole."

You drew back, gasping for air, hair cascading around you as Yoongi let go, taking advantage of your hazy state clawing for oxygen. You barely registered him pushing you down to the sheets, hands and knees, ass up and ready, his own hands on your hips to peel your wet pussy lips apart, watching your glistening opening flexing, the reaction both your muscles and your desire.

Waiting for him. 

Wanting him. 

"Mmm, my pretty pussy," he purred possessively.

Your body already knew what to do even if your mind was still trying to catch up. He took the condom from your shaking, outstretched hand and ripped it open. You didn't have to wait long. He leaned forward. The swollen, hot head pressed against your opening. Not moving, chest against your back. 

"Yoongi, please..." you gasped hoarsely.

"Please what?"

This fucking tease. "Please... fuck me."

His hand crawled up the sheets, deft fingers dancing, up your wrist, and onto your hand, your silver rings glinting in the low light. He placed his fingers in between yours, lips against your ear. 

"My perfect plaything, aren't you?"

A swift thrust and you were moaning, fingers closing in around his, suddenly so full and so deep that you saw white for a brief moment, but there was no time, no time as Yoongi slid back and slammed into you again, crotch to ass, untangling his hand from yours so he could right himself and fuck you hard, just the way you liked, just the way you needed. 

"Mmm, what a beautiful back."

You buried your face into the pillows, his fingernails scraping down your skin, sending shocks and stings all over you, helpless cries at his wonderful scratches, the exact pressure so that he left marks all over you but didn't break skin, so good paired with his harsh thrusts, making you claw for the headboard, planting your hands on it and bucking back into his hard length, heightening the pleasure and mixing it with pain, Yoongi's satisfied grunts behind you, necklaces jingling on your chest. Sensation, sound, emotion, all of it, building up inside, winding the coil, tighter, tighter. 

Nothing else mattering but being fucked by Yoongi's cock. 

"This body is for me, isn't it?" Yoongi growled, racking his nails down your back.

"Whenever you want, fuck, oh fuck, Yoongi!"

He kept going, the fire of your orgasm burning hot, crashing waves threatening to take you under, but still he gripped your hips and fucked you into the bed, the bed frame squeaks drowned out by the loud squelches of his rock-hard cock reentering you over and over again. 

"That's what I thought," he snickered, leaning down and earning a wail, so deep it felt like he was hitting your cervix, the head swelling as your walls clenched around him. "No one can take you from me, isn't that right?"

You responded automatically, your body once again responding quicker than your brain could, the answer always there, lingering in your mind, unwavering, pure instinct.

"No one."

The words rushing out with ravenous conviction, nails curling into the headboard, so much forced pleasure, savoring in Yoongi’s roughness, pussy pulsating so strongly that you weren't sure what was an orgasm and what wasn't. All over you, through you, in you, clouding your mind and thoughts. Absolute precision, knowing exactly how to fill you, and you clenching him back, molding to him to deliver the pleasure he loved, primal needs being satisfied, everything feeling so good that you became lightheaded, and yet you still found yourself uttering between moans and gasps, declaration being ripped from you because of Yoongi’s perfect cock destroying you mentally and physically.

"It will always be you above all others, Yoongi."

His fingers wrapped in your hair and yanked back, the sudden pain making you scream his name, liquid gushing down his cock and balls, thick and viscous, sticking to both your inner thighs. Your name falling from his lips, a half-moan, half-hiss, his entire length jolting inside you, filling the condom, and Yoongi rolled his hips into you once more, feeling it all, every contour of your pussy constricting around his throbbing cock. 

"Fuck..."

Two voices that sounded like one, rough, grating, instinctive, matching in time. Sparks coursing through your veins, body shivering with the aftereffects, squeezing the remnants out of him. His hand reached around; strands still tangled in his fingers.

Yoongi cupped your chin roughly, caressing your skin. 

"Above all others, hm?" he breathed, the depth of his voice soothing your thudding heart. Both of you sinking down into the bed, knees giving out, and he was still inside you, gripped tight by your stubbornness, his arms around your shaking body. You closed your eyes, Min Yoongi surrounding you, invading your space with his possessive embrace, his unavoidable presence, his inescapable hold, and you, a willing captive, letting him take over.

His lips against your ear, a familiar purr, your always and forever whisper. 

Your shadow. 

"I like that."

--

masterpost

-

who said people are animals of wisdom? for me, obviously, we are animals of regret people change, just as I've changed there is nothing permanent in the world everything is just a happening passing through

My blog is named after ‘People’ by Agust D, the only song that I’ve ever felt every word and every line, rapped and sang with that exact pitch and emotion, describe me. I’ve always wondered, these thoughts I have, will anyone ever be able to put them into words?

so what? what if you live like that?

And you did, Yoongi, and for that, I am grateful.

[pleasantanathema]

Wet Pleasures

Fandom: BNHA

Rating: Explicit

Characters: Hitoshi Shinsou

Tags: dom!Shinsou, rough sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, bondage

Word Count: ~7k    

           “You’re such a good girl,” He mused, his other hand drifting down your arm, thumb dangerously close to the outline of your breast, “you never tell me no.”

           You shook your head faintly in agreement, your eyes drawn to the beautiful muscles of his body that you had yet to see before.

           “If you don’t tell me no right now, kitty, I’m going to do very naughty things with you.”

Request for dubliinwaltz

           It was late, far too late to still be at the hero agency you worked for, and especially far too late to be taking a shower in the locker room. But, there you stood, frustrated and wet. You wanted to be home, curled up in your bed and reading your favorite book, but you were still trying to scrub your hair and body clean from the incident you had earlier in the day.

           Sometimes you forgot just how gross some quirks could be. But you were rudely reminded earlier when a villain you had been chasing chose to smother you in grey goo from his fingertips. You could feel the goo begin to crack and harden against your skin as you ran, matting into your hair and folding into the creases of your body. You had to wipe globs from your eyes and nose, unfortunately flicking the substance towards unsuspecting bystanders as you flashed by them. While you and your partner hadn’t stopped your pursuit, inwardly you had wanted to scream and use your quirk to actually kill this guy and end everything there and then. But you resisted that urge, and thankfully your partner was incredibly adept at capturing people.

           You could hear your partner sighing in similar discontent in a shower adjacent to yours. Shinsou was cursing rather loudly, mumbling profanities into the steam.

           “Are you okay, Shinsou?” You called out forcefully, hoping that he could hear you over the pounding of hot shower water against the cold tiles.

           You caught the grumble of a very angry affirmative.

           He cleared his throat, sighing stridently, “Actually…do you have any good shampoo? Mine isn’t cutting it for this stupid fucking goo.”

           You looked down at your feet, glancing over the contents of your little shower caddy. You had only showered at work a few times before, but fortunately your previous times had encouraged you to buy a few travel sized bottles and fill them with your favorite soaps. You plucked one from its home, twirling it in your fingers as you remembered that this particular shampoo was for thick hair, which would probably help Shinsou’s lavender locks.

           “Yea, heads up!” You tossed the little bottle over the white brick wall that separated the showers. You listened to hear if it clattered to the floor, but the lack of sound suggested that Shinsou had caught your throw.

           While some partners would’ve found it very odd to be showering in such close proximity, you and Shinsou were a little different than most. You were very comfortable around one another and had been from the start of your time working together nearly a year ago. But, there was also something about Hitoshi Shinsou that had you absolutely pining for him. He was inconceivably clever, and his keen intellect impressed you, especially when he used that wit to craft jokes that made you both chuckle. But aside from his charm, it was the mystery of him that had you thinking about him for far too long while in bed. Despite being so relaxed around one another, he didn’t open up much about his personal life, or really any very personal thoughts.

           Despite his aloofness, you did everything you could to please your partner. You never told him no, not like you ever really needed to, but everything inside of you trusted him and wanted to submit to him. He was powerful and you were drawn to him like a kitten to a new curiosity.

           You closed your eyes for a moment, running your hands over your skin, wondering what his would feel like instead of your own.

           You heard another very frustrated grunt from the neighboring shower.

           “Ugh, now I smell like flowers.”

           His complaint had you giggling to yourself as you continued to use a loofah and scrub at the undersides of your arms and behind your knees, and all the other nooks and crannies that this goo had decided to claim as a home. While the warm water still felt like a soothing blanket to your skin, your long time spent scrubbing had the soles of your feet aching against the rough tiles. You groaned, just wanting desperately to get clean. You stretched your toes, and soon you yawned, stretching your arms up and over your head. That’s when you felt the skin of your back crinkle in a very strange, and sticky, way. You stopped stretching and began trying to touch the skin of your middle back, but unfortunately there was a spot that you couldn’t quite reach. Undoubtedly, your back was still in need of cleaning.

           You cried out loudly in annoyance, head falling back and eyes closing as you let the shower water splash across the front of your body. Your desperation must’ve been made clear, as you heard the adjacent shower curtain rustle.

           Shinsou cleared his throat and the sound was closer than you expected. You peeked over your shoulder, finding only his head visible from around the wall. Soap suds still littered his indigo hair, and his expression mimicked the aggravation of your own. You suddenly blushed, realizing he was currently able to see all of your backside. You instinctively wrapped your arms around your breasts, maintaining eye contact with your partner.

           “Um,” he started, eyes darting away momentarily, “do you need help washing this shit off?”

           You sighed in defeat, nodding your head.

           “Yea. Do you?”

           “I can’t even get it out of my own hair.”

           He dipped back around the wall and you heard the creak of the knob as he turned off his shower. You began to breath more quickly, realizing that very soon he was going to be here, with you, in your space, in this shower, naked. You shook your head, hands running across your face under the fall of the water. Sure, the two of you had changed into your hero costumes many times before in this very locker room, but you’d never really seen each other fully nude. Your limits of comfortability with your partner were about to possibly reach their limit.

           “There’s a spot on your back, you know.”

           You let out another very exasperated sigh.

           “Yea, I know. Can you…?”

           “Of course.”

           Your back was still to him as he approached you in the shower. Casually, you handed your loofah to him over your shoulder, and he took it gently, fingers brushing over your knuckles. His other hand wrapped around your upper arm, steadying you as he began to rub at your back. His grip on your skin was delicate yet firm, large hand enveloping your arm. He kept a comfortable distance between your bodies, staying a step back so he could work at the crusted goo upon your skin. You reached forward and turned the temperature up in the shower, hoping to blame the heat of the water and steam for the redness of your cheeks and not him.

           You let out a groan of satisfaction when you felt something heavy peel off the skin of your back. His continued to scrub at the spot, but now more lightly, like he was rinsing off the remaining residue of the substance. You then felt the wisp of the loofah back on your shoulder, and he tapped you with it to get you to take it back. As you wrapped the dangling strap of the puff around your fingers, you assumed he was finished, but then you felt his hand on your back.

           “Why is this shit so stubborn?” He grumbled, using the tip of his nail to scrape at the portion of skin between your shoulder blades.

           Shinsou had been equally as frustrated with all this mess as you. Not only had the motherfucker you two had been chasing cover you both with his nasty quirk, he had coated Shinsou’s capturing weapon to filth. What he wouldn’t admit to you was the true reason he was struggling to clean off himself in the shower: he had been sitting over there diligently scrubbing the cloth of his weapon and tired himself out. Even now, the scarf like tool was pooled into a heap on the shower tiles, forlorn and still stained with dark spots.

           Instead of continuing to deal with this situation on his own, he had hoped you would be willing to help him. You always were, and he had taken notice that you hardly ever said no to him, which was something he found very appealing. He wasn’t ashamed to admit to himself that not only did he find you particularly attractive, he found you alluring and very compatible to himself and his…wants and needs, so to say.

           Shinsou liked a woman who would do whatever he asked, which was only natural, given his quirk. And he had an inkling that you wanted him to tell you what to do more often.

           He had successfully cleaned your back, so he took a moment look over you before continuing with bathing. He took both of your arms in his hands now, gingerly skimming his palms down to your elbows as his wandering eyes marveled over your beautiful back and plump backside. He was taller than you, and it gave him a great vantage point to peer over your shoulders to the front of your body. He could smell the sweetness of your skin, your scent filling the steamy air like a billowing aroma. If only he could just taste you, oh the sinful things he’d—

           “Hitoshi?” your easy voice brought him from his thoughts, “are you done staring? I need to wash your hair.”

           He grinned at the lax in your tone, delighted to know that you were aware of his gaze. He moved forward, wrapping his strong arms around your shoulders from behind, his embrace open and lazy, contented even.

           “Can I at least get a thank you, dear partner of mine?”

           He nestled his chin against your wet hair, and you could imagine the grin on his face.

           “Thank you, Hitoshi.” You grumbled it, but still you smiled.

           Shinsou slipped around your side, lean and towering body shifting to be in front of yours. The width of his body took over the spray of the water, leaving you cold and damp behind him. For an instant, you marveled over the muscled planes of his back, but chose not to stare like he had earlier. You reached up, standing on your toes as you raked hand through his wet hair. Somehow, despite being wet, much of his hair still seemed unruly and thick. It appeared dark blue now, with soap suds still dripping off the long strands. A few strands still were colored grey from the mysterious gunk, but not too many.

           “Rinse the old shampoo out and I’ll try another.”

           “Bossy, bossy.” He quipped, bringing his hands to his hair and scrubbing.

           You reached into your shower caddy once more, picking the entire thing up and searching through it for anything that could help. You found a bottle of hair oil, still mostly full. You shrugged, hoping that perhaps it could help along with more shampoo.

           Returning to Shinsou’s back, you sighed, looking up at the expanse of hair upon his head. You’d have to be on your toes the whole time to reach the strands, but you could handle it. You mixed some of the oil and shampoo in your palms, once again stretching up to reach his head. You lathered your fingers through his hair, paying special attention to pull at the pieces still stained from the goo on the back of his head that he definitely couldn’t have seen earlier.

           He hummed softly as your delicate fingers massaged at his head. He had definitely made the right decision asking for help, especially now that he could feel your body brush up against his back and shoulders as you attempted to clean him. He almost shuddered when he felt your breasts press up against his skin, nipples hard and skating across his wet back.

           Shinsou realized you were struggling to stay on your toes. He went to lean forward and bend down to alleviate your straining feet and calves, but his movement threw you off balance. He audibly hissed as your fingers wound themselves into his hair, clutching at him as you tried not to fall backwards on the slippery floor.

           “Fuck, kitten, easy with the claws.”

           Your other hand came to his arm, nails digging into his skin for purchase as you steadied yourself. You shook your head as you regained your sense of self on your feet. Then, you blushed, your brain recognizing the words he had just said. Kitten?Oh, oh that name sounded so sensual coming from his lips. You almost wanted to say something about it, but you assumed he misspoke—he never called you that, at least not to your face.

           “I’m sorry, just don’t fucking move again and I won’t fall.”

           He crossed his arms in front of his chest, peering over his shoulder, though he couldn’t quite glimpse you.

           You went back to working at his hair, mindful not to pull at him again. It took a few minutes, but eventually you worked most of the crusted gunk from his hair. A few times you pressed your palm to his head, forcing him forward to wet his hair more under the shower, which made him sputter and grumble as water dripped across his face. Hey, he asked for this, and cleaning his thick hair wasn’t an easy task. Eventually, his gorgeous locks felt clean and smooth in your hands, finally free of any lingering mess.

           You scanned his back, finding a few grey flecks. You used your nails to chip the substance off his pale skin, now made more pink and flushed under the heat of the shower. He hummed as you worked at him, eyes closing in delight at your touch. He wondered how far he could push you, if he could ask for more. He already had you with him, in the shower, naked, washing him, surely a little more wouldn’t push you away.

           He called your name softly, and you stopped touching his back, standing up straight and still.

           “Yes?” Your voice was quiet, almost meek in his presence.

           “Can I touch you?”

           An awkward moment of silence ticked by, but before you even thought about it, your mouth stammered out an answer that your brain didn’t screen for approval.

           “Of course.”

           You said it matter-of-factly, subconsciously confirming to yourself that telling him no just really wasn’t an option. Every fiber of your being wanted to please him. You could feel your gut stir with butterflies, explodingbutterflies, as he turned around, the two of you coming face to face in the shower. He cupped your cheek, thumb brushing over your flushed skin. You peered up at him with glossy eyes that trailed over the small perfections of his face.

           “You’re such a good girl,” He mused, his other hand drifting down your arm, thumb dangerously close to the outline of your breast, “you never tell me no.”

           You shook your head faintly in agreement, your eyes drawn to the beautiful muscles of his body that you had yet to see before.

           “If you don’t tell me no right now, kitty, I’m going to do very naughty things with you.”

           Your mouth opened before you realized, “please,” you sounded breathless.

           He leaned down, mouth trailing close to your own, tongue licking at left over water droplets on your cheek. You felt like melting against him.

           “Please what? I like when you use your words.”

           A gulp was caught in your throat, mind reeling over the turn of events. You wondered for a moment if this was even happening, perhaps your daydreams were becoming a little realistic. But then you felt his warm tongue against your skin again, and you knew that this was real. You moaned loudly, eyes closing as you gathered your confidence. His palm dipped low to cup your breast, squeezing it gently, like he was testing your resolve.

           “Please touch me, Hitoshi.”

           His tongue snaked between your lips then, mouth covering your own in a searing kiss. He groaned against your lips at your command, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his body. Your mind was overwhelmed with thoughts as you tried to make sense of every new sensation that was sending your nerves running wild. His lips on yours were dreamy and lazy, like he was kissing to taste you and drink you in. His body was warmer than yours, with hot water threading down the soft expanses of skin. You could hear the roaring sound of the water splashing against cool tiles, rumbling echoes of the splatters sounding around the darkened, empty locker room. You moaned as you felt his fingertips grip into your sides, one large palm still encircled around your sensitive breast. Your body curved against his, stomachs pressed together, and his muscles were lean and hard. He felt like some kind of divine being, raised from the sea and finally hearing your desperate cries for attention.

           After a few moments of holding you, tongues gliding over one another like shifting tides, Shinsou’s kiss shifted from languid to ravenous. You gasped as you felt his hands tighten around your body, gripping hard enough to bruise. The hand on your breast began tugging and pinching at your nipple roughly. Your lewd groan at his ministration had him smirking against your lips. A hardness was pressing against your thigh now, making your cheeks redden as you realized his cock was responding to your body.

           He used his hold on you to turn you around, placing your frigid body back under the warm spray of the shower. You slicked the hair away from your eyes as you stood before him, the water and steam pouring over your figure. He grinned roguishly at the sight, hand reaching forward and cupping your chin, keeping your eyes on his.

           “Get on your knees,” he whispered, authority laced between the words.

           You nodded quickly, taking a step back and sinking to your knees in worship.

           You tried to keep your eyes to his, but his beautiful, silken cock was now just above your line of sight, the head brushing against your brow. Your eyes widened at the sight. He was big and glorious, damp violet hairs kissing the base. He curved ever so slightly, ever so deliciously, and you licked your lips in anticipation. He fisted his cock, and you sat up straighter and to attention. He brushed the head against your cheeks, marveling at the lustful look on your face.

           “You look so pretty all wet, kitty.”

           Heat rose to your cheeks again, tickling up to your ears, making them burn.

           “I like that name,” you murmured, eyes fluttering up at him.

           Fuck, he groaned to himself, cock twitching in his hand. You were so perfect below him like that, supple mouth just waiting to taste him. You’d be the death of him if you continued to look at him that way and say words like that. He could already feel his core constricting into a tight coil at just the sight of you.

           “You’re my little pet now,” he nudged his cock against your lips, feeling your tongue tentatively lap against him. He pushed in a little deeper, finding the cavern of your mouth somehow warmer and wetter than his surroundings.

           “Yes sir,” you mumbled it against his cock, the vibrations tinging down his skin. He fisted one hand into your wet hair, encouraging you to take him into your mouth. Eagerly, you complied, placing your hands on his thighs for leverage as you dipped your head further down his shaft. You both moaned simultaneously. Your tongue flattened against the underside of his cock, keeping him moist and slick between your hollowing cheeks. His girth made it difficult to venture too far down, and you began to readjust your jaw, opening your mouth as wide as possible to fit him.

           You set a brisk pace, fervent to feel him deeper in your mouth. He helped to guide you, fingers weaving between the strands of your hair and his strength encouraging you to take as much of him as possible. You groaned and gulped against him, tongue swirling with each plunge of your head. You could feel the thick veins of his cock against your tongue and cheeks, the wide head skimming against the back of your throat. You closed your eyes against the running water, finger nails nipping into the skin of his thighs as you controlled your gag reflex. You had never had such a large cock in your mouth before and it felt sinful just how far he stretched your cheeks.

           “Oh kitten,” he groaned out, making your thighs press together in anticipation. His voice was low and succulent, growls continually ripping from his chest. His sounds invigorated you to please him more. You took all of him into your mouth, gasping as he slid down your throat. Your nose was buried in that violet hair at the base of his cock, bumping against his skin. A tumble of curses spilled from his lips, the hand in your hair tightening as you pulled back and repeated to the motion, saliva slipping from your lips to be washed away by the spray of the shower.

           He kept you between his legs for a while, captivated by watching your sweet mouth swallow up the whole of his cock. The feel of your tongue swirling around the head of his cock with nearly every thrust of your head had him panting for more. And then your eyes opened again, water dampening your lashes as you caught his gaze as you nearly choked on his cock. He almost lost it then, using his hand to pull you from his cock before he became too rough with your lips.

           “Fuck,” he hissed, cock throbbing as it once against rested against your face, “you be a good girl and stay right there.”

           You almost questioned him, but you were trying to catch your breath and couldn’t find your voice. He stepped from the shower, leaving you on your knees. You sunk down closer to the floor, hands against your thighs as you took deep breaths under the deluge of the warm streams of water.

           Shinsou returned quickly, his damp capturing weapon laced around his arm.

           Oh fuck, you thought, looking up at him like a lost lamb. He lifted his lavender eyes to scan the ceiling. You sat patiently, breasts heaving with breaths, the heat between your thighs growing as you thought about what he could be thinking. You’d be lying if you said you had never thought of the terribly dirty things he could do to someone—to you—with that weapon of his, and now he stood before you with it, naked and smirking.

           “Now let’s get you off the floor.”

           Before you could even blink, you felt the carbon fibers of his weapon wrap around your arms, hoisting you up into the air as the other end of the fabric looped over a steel beam from the ceiling. Your arms were tethered together above your head, dangling you above the floor and close to the back of the shower. Your body was still bouncing in gravity from his first action when he sent two more strands of the weapon to envelop your legs, pulling them apart and fastening the ends of the ribbons to the beam in the ceiling as well. You cried out in surprise at his rapid movements, effectively trapped and spread before him.

           Shinsou laughed at how easy you were to capture, but soon his eyes darkened as he soaked in the image before him. You looked perfect and delectable, dewy skin glistening against the binding of his weapon. He had thought of tying you up like this dozens of times before, even daydreamed about it when you trained together after work. He always felt a little twinge in his cock whenever he swung you from his weapon during missions, and he imagined binding more than just the occasional wrist or arm.

           He stepped towards your suspended body, reaching behind you to turn off the shower. He planned to keep you like this for as long as he could, no need to waste water. He skimmed his fingers up your legs, capturing a calf with his hand. He experimentally pulled on your body, watching your breasts bounce as the fabric allowed you to move only slightly.

           “This is perfect,” he mused, eyes dropping to between your legs, “oh fuck, kitten, what a pretty pussy you’ve been hiding from me.”

           You let out a small mewl at his words, desperate to touch him. You had barely gotten to explore his skin beyond his cock, and you wanted to hold onto him and feel him against you. You struggled against your captive binds for a moment, arms pulling at the weapon suspended above your head.

           “You know how this works; you’re not getting out of these ties until I say so.”

           You let out a huff, but you were quickly distracted from your binds when a slim finger unexpectedly slid between your folds.

           “Fuck! Oh, Shinsou—.”

           “It’s sir, from now on. You understand?” He emphasized his point by flicking his knuckle across your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure across your suspended body.

           You nodded ardently, eyes closing at the pleasure.

           “Words, kitty.” He tittered.

           “Yes, sir, I understand.”

           “Mhm, good girl,” he smirked, watching your head fall back as he brought another finger to your pussy, dancing them playfully between your folds. His eyes watched your stunning breasts rise and fall with your heavy breaths, and he brought his other hand back to the breast he toyed with earlier. He rolled your nipple between his fingertips, pinching and pulling at it roughly. He delighted in the moans that tumbled from your parted lips. He dipped one finger into your sopping pussy, feeling your walls stretch and twitch around the digit. He slid it in and out of you with agonizing slowness, relishing how tight you were just around one finger.

           Heat was spreading across your lower belly like a fire, his finger stroking the flames. His hold on your nipple didn’t cease, he continued to pull and tease it as he finally added a second finger into you. You couldn’t help but cry out wantonly, and with the deafening roar of the shower gone, just your voice rang out against the cold walls. He curled his fingers expertly within you, continuing a slow and sensual pace.

           He was watching you keenly, observing how lewdly you responded to the simplest of his touches.  

           “You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” He chuckled, feeling your pussy tighten around his slow and steady fingers.

           “Yes, sir,” you admitted breathlessly.

           He only gave an appreciative hum in response, fingers picking up their pace inside of you. Your captured legs twitched at his antics, toes feeling cold and forlorn in their suspended state. His thumb began to circle your clit, sending bewildering shocks of pleasure throughout your body. You whined noisily, tugging a lip between your teeth at the searing pleasure of it all. He relinquished his grip on your nipple, choosing to instead soothe and cup your breast in his large hand. His fingers continued to curl up into your body, spread wide just for him. They were long and slender, perfectly twisting against the most pleasurable spots inside of you. He was confident in his actions, and the steady assurance of his fingers had you pining for him.

           “Please, sir,” you whispered, head sill lolled back, “more.”

           “Hm,” he pondered, “are you just a greedy little girl, or do you like it rough?”

           His fingers didn’t cease their actions, persistently plunging into your hot core. He spread them slightly, and you could feel your walls stretch and give at his actions.

           “I’ll be whatever you want,” you breathed out, puling your head up to catch his gaze once more. His purple eyes were dark like shadows in the night. His thumb glided wickedly against your clit, fanning the embers of your ecstasy even hotter and higher than before. A shriek of pleasure erupted from your chest, a lusty haze settling over your mind. You squeezed your core, body attempting to move against his fingers. But as soon as you attempted to move against your bindings, he stopped, slipping his fingers from within you.

           You were panting, about to start begging, when those dark eyes narrowed at you.

           “And what if I want you to be mine?”

           You quiet, almost speechless, his words like the most sinful temptation. He wrapped the fingers that were once inside you around your throat. The scent of your arousal permeated his skin, your slick sticky against your neck. He watched you, impatiently waiting for an answer.

           “Then I’m yours.”

           He hummed again, his other hand wrapping around your tied thigh. You could feel the swollen head of his cock brush against your folds, making you shudder. Your wet skin was still cooling, but the heat from inside of you made you feel like you were steaming.

           “I don’t know if you understand the weight of those words.”

           “I do,” you said quickly, eyes scanning his face, “I promise.”

           Without warning, he slammed himself inside of you, eliciting another blissful scream from your lungs. He groaned as he bottomed out inside of you, feeling your round ass pressing against his thighs.

           He stayed still for a moment, savoring the feel of your pussy clenching and stretching around him.

           “You know, I think you’ve been mine for a long time, partner.” He said the words weightily, authority resounding in his voice.

           You could only nod your head in response, hips burning from both his sudden intrusion and unbridled lust. He began to pound forcefully into you, fingers bruising your legs between the bindings. He tied you at the perfect height for his cock to sink into you deliciously and powerfully. Every thrust sent waves of euphoria blossoming from your core, your body unable to do anything but react to his movements. Your breasts bounded with every thrust, and his eyes were glued to the picturesque, moist globes as they swayed for him. Your head once again lost the battle of staying upright, reclining back to hang at his mercy.

           With your throat now exposed, he leaned forward, biting and kissing at your delicate skin. You gasped, the pain of his teeth melding with the pleasure of his huge cock spreading you. You felt dangerously full of him, like any push of his cock could rip you open. His heavy hands slid from your thighs to were your ass cheeks, pressing and kneading into the flesh violently. His merciless thrusting had you breathless, gasping for air every time the head of his cock slammed back into you.

           “Where’d all those pretty words go, kitty? I wanna hear you…” he growled against the skin of your neck, lips melting into the juncture of your jaw. His teeth sunk deeper this time, causing you to cry out at the concoction of sensations you felt spreading across your body.

           “Shinsou, s-sir,” your voice stammered between thrusts, “you feel so, so good, ah, don’t stop, please!”

           He picked up his pace, cock hammering into you ruthlessly, undoubtedly bruising your soft, tantalizing skin. He forced your body against him, one hand wrapping around the cloth bindings and using the leverage to keep you against him. Your nails began to bite into your hands, intense pleasure brewing inside of you. The sound of skin against skin saturated the locker room, your moans echoing off the shower walls. Your breasts were pressed to his muscular chest now, sliding against the light dusting of hair found there. You fought to keep your mouth from falling agape, but the intensity of him had your lips parting and incessantly moaning for him.

           “Such a naughty, desperate little girl, huh? You like being stuffed with my cock like this?”

           “Yes, fuck,” he licked a long, hot stripe up your throat, panting mouth resting at your chin, “yes, sir, I love being tied up…”

           He chuckled then, angling his hips to hit you deeper and harder, one hand leaving your ass and snaking up your back to pull at your dripping hair. He pulled hard and fast against the strands of your hair, arching your body as it could against his chest. You squealed at the smarting of your scalp, but were too overwhelmed with the throbbing of your stretched pussy to care. The pain heightened your senses, and you felt every deep plunge of his cock hit harder, more extreme than before.

           “Oh I knew you would, every little kitty likes to play with string, right?”

           You couldn’t nod your head for the grip he had on your hair. You screamed out for him, completely lost to your ecstasy as his devilish words had you edging towards true bliss. He continued to tug at your locks, enjoying every ounce of control and power he had over your body; and he didn’t even have to use his quirk, you’d do anything for him without his influence. This realization had him hardening even more inside of you, cock thumping with more blood as he shoved into your silken walls.

           He could feel your body start to tighten around him, your strung up legs beginning to shake. He grinned knowingly, slipping his other hand from your ass to your stomach, then dipping lower to your aching clit. He hovered his thumb over the bundle of nerves, letting each thrust of his cock allow your clit to skim just perfectly over the pad of his finger. You moaned louder than before, desperate to feel the bubble of pleasure burst from inside of you. But he wasn’t ready for that.

           “You want to come, kitty?”

           “Yes, sir, p-please, please.”

           “Then I want you to work for it.”

           Confusion washed over your mind and body as you felt his cock pull away, leaving you open and empty without him. You yelped in discontent, body struggling against your bindings in a vain attempt to free yourself and bring him back to you. He stepped back, eyes trailing over every detailed of your flushed, used body, tied up like a plaything for him. He was saving the picturesque scene in his mind. He pumped his cock a few times with his hand, finding it smothered in your own slick.

           With just a motion of his fingers, your legs came untied, tumbling down to the feat of gravity. But he didn’t release your arms. Instead, he came and sat below you on the tiles, back pressed to the wall of the shower with his lean, muscled thighs stretching out against the floor. His cock was rigid and hard, pressed up against his stomach like it was straining to reach you. He waved his fingers again, the ties around the steel beam loosening enough to drop your body into his lap, legs spread over his own. But he kept your hands tied securely above your head, leaving you without the ability to touch him.

           “Sit on my cock, kitty, I want to kiss you while you work.”

           You did as he commanded, sinking yourself onto his stiff, thick cock, eyes fluttering closed at the immense pleasure of being so full again. Your legs trembled, having just gotten their agency back and still numb from being tied. But you pushed through the lingering pain, desperate to please him. You rocked your hips slowly, letting him slip completely inside of you once more. The new position had his perfect cock hitting you in all new ways, sending new jolts of pleasure down your spine.

           Shinsou cupped both your breasts in his hands, using them as leverage to encourage you to rock harder and faster in his lap. His lips found yours again, tongue lapping against yours in a battle of dominance that he all too easily won. You felt the entire length of him slip from inside of you, only to slam back and fill you once again. The ecstasy overwhelmed you, knees slipping against the wet tiles. He kept his firm grip on your bouncing breasts, his strength and his capture weapon the only things keeping you upright in his lap.

           From this angle, your clit brushed against the violet curls at the base of his cock, stimulating you and emboldening you to roll faster against him, fraught to find your release. The coil in your belly was ready to burst, and his passionate mouth against your own was soaking up all the wanton moans you exhaled into him.

           But soon your own pace wasn’t enough for him. As much as he loved a show, he also needed his own release, and nothing set him on edge more than having full control. His big hands slid down from your breasts to your hips, using his might to lift your body in his own and thrust his hips up into your sweltering heat at a faster, more brutal pace. You broke from his lips with a scream, and the sound of his own grunts had your eyes opening to see him.

           His head was dipped back against the wall, eyes closed and lips just barely parted. His damp indigo hair was tussled into wild plumes, curving over his thick neck and expertly corded shoulders. He looked like a god below you, and felt divine within you. His thumb swirled against your clit again, and the unexpected touch had you exploding into euphoria.

           “That’s right, kitty,” his eyes opened then, lust simmering within them as he caught your gaze, “I want you to come for me now.”

           The circles of his thumb quickened, his cock still mercilessly pounding up into your core. You could feel the broad head moving against your insides, veins protruding even more noticeably than before. You felt like a toy in his hands, like his cock was too big for you and he still kept hammering himself into you for his own pleasure.

           Finally, you came, screams rippling from your throat and eyes closing as you allowed the waves of euphoria to wash over your body, every single nerve ending exploding with ecstasy and pleasure in intensities you had never felt before. Your walls struggled to clench around his massive cock, the fluttering of your insides lasting longer and longer as your body writhed in white hot heat. His cock never slowed, and your bouncing body was continually thrown over the orgasmic ledge, nerves trying to find purchase against the onslaught of his hips. Your hands were wrapped into fists around the binding above your head, gripping like you were trying to keep yourself afloat amidst the sea of ecstasy that your body was being tossed into.

           You ultimately came down from your high, body limp as he fucked up into you. With a satisfied sigh, you called out to him, “Hitoshi…”

           Your weak voice, and the image before him of your listless body riding upon his cock, had him tumbling over his own edge. He rasped out your name as he came, hot ropes of thick cum spilling inside of you. His cock throbbed and pulsated inside your womb, his lungs panting for breath as his fingertips gripped into your sweaty, damp skin. His chest heaved, shoulders slumping in bliss as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.

           You both sat against the cold tiles, breathing hard and letting your minds come back to earth. Your head was slumped down in front of your body, hair pooling around your cheeks and his chest. The fabric of his capture weapon was the only thing keeping you from sinking into him. His cock was still hard and hot within you.

           After a few moments, one of his hands left your hips, reaching up to grab your chin and pull your head up to look at him. He smirked at you, glancing over the already blooming bruises he left on your breasts, your hips, and the broken, purple skin on your throat from his bite.

           “Fuck, kitty, you really took a beating. Are you feeling okay?”

           You laughed, straightening your shoulders and pulling your body up by gripping the ribbons, legs twitching against his thighs.

           “I feel great,” your voice was weak, but your smile was beaming as you chuckled, “we should probably shower and clean up, don’t you think?”

           He laughed, kissing your lips kindly as he released your aching arms. He helped you stand, marveling over how strong your body must have been to withstand his fucking and his bindings. You stretched like the little cat that you were, waking up all the muscles that had gone dormant.

           You both rinsed off quickly, grabbing towels and finally drying your bodies.

           “I meant what I said earlier,” he said nonchalantly, like he was expecting you to know what he meant.

           You continued to get dressed and thought for a moment, thinking back through the hot haze of memories. Your mouth fell open in realization.

           “You want me to be yours?”

           “You’re the best partner I’ve ever had and I’ve had my eye on you for a while. You don’t have to say yes right now, but maybe another good fuck could convince you.”

           You slung your bag over your shoulder, letting him lean down and kiss you. You relished in the taste of him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and threading your fingers through the hair you had so carefully washed.

           “Yea, another good fuck wouldn’t hurt.”

------------------------------------------

[shadowworks]

What’s Said Is Said

Pairing: Fae!Hawks X F!Reader

Warnings: Dub-con themes, light bondage, oral, virgin reader(‘ye ‘ol times idk man) Fae’s being dicks

Word Count: 5.7k

Credit; Thank you lovely wife for creating this beautiful banner! You’re always the sweetest, I swear, @pleasantanathema

A/N: This piece is part of the, Pleasant & Strider Present: The Smut Pile Fantasy AU Collab! Like before, this is written in third person but is still a reader x Hawks fic. Maybe one day I'll write in second person. Today is not that day.

Hope you Enjoy~ 

***

Everyone in town heard the warning of the Dark Forest. Never wander beyond the treeline or else you’ll be snatched by the fae. And while this did scare the children from their southern borders, there were those in adulthood who took the fable with a grain of salt. The leaves and branches shroud the forest floor in this never ending night, and the winds blew through the trees like a soft, ominous whisper calling out, “this way” —But it did not mean there were faeries.

Still, the young traveler moved forward.

She wandered slowly—carefully through the wood with her lantern raised high. She wasn’t certain how long she’d been looking for her cat. As noticeable as her black cat was in a town bathed in sunlight, it was quite the opposite under the thick cover of leaves. But she would not abandon her friend who dulled the dreadful nights, who turned her wet frown into a soft laugh. No, she’d find him, and they’d leave the forest together.

She called out again searching through the wild brush. She looked for motion across the grass--the snap of a twig, a shadow across her light. But still, there was nothing. 

 In fact, it was silent. She slowed her steps to a stop, turning her head to the side. Her brows crinkled together. The wind that shook the branches, that rippled her dress had ceased, and in the moment- so had the sounds of the forest. She held her breath, jerking toward the other side as she felt a figure standing in the shadows. But she exhaled her breath. There was nothing.

When the silence remained like a fog among the ominous trees, she eventually lowered her lantern. There was great reluctance, but she could not hold still like the animals. She had a selfish thought of wanting to turn back around and hurry home...Instead she tread lightly on her worn shoes, pressing forward against the web of mossy stones

If something was out there...She’d do well to avoid it.  

The young traveler’s steps did not make it far, however, as she stopped dead in her tracks.

A muffling noise seemed to be coming from all around, but then the wind brushed at her dress. And on the winds, there was a whisper. She whipped around to the noise on reflex, clutching her lantern toward her chest. The voice was calling out from afar. She understood little wisps of words as it grew louder, and it gradually pushed forward. Until-

“My, what a pretty thing you are,” it whispered against the shell of her ear. 

She stifled a cry. Her eyes darted back but found no one was there. Her hand clamped over her ear she could have sworn she felt a hot breath against her ear. She was sure of it.

She knew she had to flee. Her head reasoned to look harder and then get out.  She began picking up pace and walking backwards, yet another jolt of panic  ran through her. The forest floor was layered in dips and curves of overgrown roots and her foot had caught against one. Her arm swung out, and the lantern slipped from her fingers. 

When it smashed into shards a few feet away, another breeze swept along. It was only made strong enough to snuff out the flame, which licked the oil among the broken glass. Then it was gone.

 Suddenly, a gloved hand reached out and caught her mid-air. The grip was firm and held her weight with more than enough ease to pull her in. The maiden looked on.

There holding her hand was a radiant young man. A smirk pulled at his mouth crookedly, and the gold in his eyes was strikingly crisp and gleamed in the darkness. She noticed his pupils were slit as they looked like her lost friend’s. His hair was pushed back, and she found the shape of his face was more handsome than anyone she’d seen in town—even his pointed ears were charming 

“Well well, look what I found.” He said, breaking the silence. His hold on hers softened but he did not let go. “What are you doing out this far in the woods, little dove? Been some time since a human’s come this way.” 

She did not respond at first, did not move her stare from his brilliant looks. For a moment, she could not remember what she was meant to be doing.

This struck a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Oh, what’s that look for? You still with me?” He teased. He reached for her cheek with his other hand and leaned forward to inspect her features for any sign of liveliness. “I was hoping you hadn’t lost your head—Little do-o-o-o-ove?” 

His sing-songy voice brought a spark of recognition back into her gaze, and a heavy blush bloomed over the bridge of her nose. This wasn’t like her, she’d never done such a thing before.

“Ah, there she is!” He said in praise, swiping his thumb across her cheekbone. She was certain he could feel the heat. “Heh, careful now. I wouldn’t lose myself out here if I were you.”

“I’m so sorry,” she managed just before shaking her head in shame. “I don’t know what came over me.” 

 “Oh, but I do.” He returned matter-of-factly. “You’re not the first to fall for this devilishly charming fae you see before you.”

Fae. Human. He tossed the words around so casually one would think he spoke sincerely. She stared for a moment with a tilt of her head.

“And by fae you mean...?” 

“What, you don’t know?”

She paused. 

As if on cue, her curious eyes fell behind his rather handsome and princely black tunic, finding an incredible display attached to his back. And oh, did they show what he was. They took the shape of black feathered wings but they certainly weren’t. Those glossy wings were transparent like a dragonfly, and in the veins of each side they glimmered a bloody red. The lines fanned out in perfect detail, each one resembling a feather of a bird.

“You’re…! You really exist,” She gaped, shifting her wide eyes back to his gold ones.

The faerie smiled back, knowing full well where her gaze had fallen. It was almost as though he’d seen this before, actually. There was something a little too cocky behind that pretty mouth, and  she wasn’t liking his satisfied smile very much.

The faerie then stepped back in proper form, and she watched him dip low in an elegant bow, bringing her knuckles to his lips. She tried not to think of the second rise of heat on her nose.

“They call me Hawks, my dear.” The fae greeted officially, but the maiden did not like his response.

“They being whom?”

Hawks glanced up. “Pardon?” 

“They being whom?” 

“You must have guessed there's more than just me.”

“I have.” 

“Then why do you ask?” Hawks wondered, his eyebrow quirked. 

“Well...if the rumors of you existing are true, then it’s right to assume all the others are true, right? Are “they” the good kind that leave lilies in your hair, or are “they” the kind that steal your left shoe?”

Or were they kind that snatched infants from their cribs, or lost travelers in the night? But she dared not ask that part. 

They stared at one another, though Hawks stared in a way that sized her up. The impish gleam in his golden eyes was snuffed, and the curve of his smile faded. It was as though she’d said something wrong—yet it was hard to tell.

She opened her mouth to explain but that’s when the wind gently pushed at her hair.

“Pretty thing, pretty thing.”

Her hand tensed under his leather fingers, fixing a frightened look toward the returning whispers. This time though, she was not the only one who heard this. Hawks straightened his winged back, and turned to the direction of the voice.

“Well shit. Looks like these bastards caught your scent.” Hawks said with an ungracious tone. “Leave it to the Unseelie to spoil everything…” 

She stared at the back of Hawks’ head incredulously. Did she hear him correctly? They could smell her? The Unseelie were the malevolent fae she’d heard about before.They were the Goblins who stole human faces; the Pale Men who ate children and left nothing but their shoes. And now, they were the fae who call to you with an echo on the wind.

“Not again.” She muttered, a distressed anger snapped inside. 

 Hawks looked back alarmed, having felt the loss of warmth in his hand. Lifting his chin, he watched as her beautifully framed figure stalked off, moving deeper into the tree’s shadows.

“Hold on, wait!” Hawks called out, extending an outstretched hand. The maiden was heading towards dangerous grounds, ones which were outside his claimed boundaries and near the Unseelie even Hawks found to be tasteless. 

“No, no, no, no!” She repeated as she hurried away on shaking legs, “I’ve dealt with enough faeries on this adventure, thank you! I came here for my cat, not to mingle with smelling fae.”

“Your cat?” Hawks asked. 

“Yes, my cat!” She said, turning herself to face him. “He slipped out earlier and made a run for it out here!” 

Her eyes were able to study his sharply dressed figure in black, all of him lit by a red glow coming from the veins inside his wings. For a moment, she thought how out of place his attire was in the Dark Forest. 

“Is that right?” He mused, letting those gold eyes fall to the ground. They were pinned on something, but she couldn’t see from her spot. “And just out of curiosity; how do you plan to find him in the dark?”

His boot kicked at a remnant of the lantern, she heard the glass crunch under his foot. When Hawks lifted his gaze, his expression was unreadable.

 “Look, we don’t have too much time.The Unseelie won’t harm your pet, but a human like you? I can assure you, they won’t keep you a pretty corpse if they snatch you up.“ 

His black and red wings began to flutter to a rapid speed until they were an illuminating blurr. They lifted him from the ground effortlessly, and he flew through the dark with a graceful air around him.

“If you come with me and wait for the Unseelie to pass, we’ll look for your cat then, alright?” Hawks landed softly before her, offering a stretched arm and open palm for her to take. 

She hesitated, looking him over for any sign that read foul play. He was one of the fae after all, and his kind gesture was given so suddenly. “You’ll look for him, with me? I...Why-why would you want to help me?” 

Hawks liked holding her hand. He didn’t wait for her reach and grasped hers, hanging at her side.The soothing leather rubbed against her skin as he laced their fingers. His gaze was fixed on the curves of their hold, the flash of her wrist. A smile softened his face. 

“Well, I would be lying if I said I didn’t want you all to myself in the big bad woods,” Hawks confessed before flicking his catlike eyes up. “Hey. It’ll be alright, dove. Let’s find you someplace, safe.”  

***

Hawks eventually dropped the back of her knees, while settling her back down on the ground. He’s the first to move, and he walked with purpose towards a particular tree.

She however, was occupied with the fog that rolled in this part of the forest. It was colder here, the trees were larger—and she’s unsure how to explain, but the blackened bark on these trees was more ominous than the ones she’d passed on her own.

“Hawks,” she tentatively called, crossing her arms over her chest, “Where is this place?”

 Hawks kept facing the tree. He was intently regarding the natural grooves of the bark, cupping his chin in thought. 

“My neck of the woods! Thought it’d be safer to mask your scent with mine.” He mused. There was another pause before he saw it, and the tips of his fingers pushed on the bark pattern to his right—the wood cracked.

Hawks turned towards the maiden. He noticed her expression slowly shine as the door opened, leading to a spiral staircase inside. He beckoned her forward with a reach toward her figure.  She didn’t hesitate to walk forward and take his hand. 

It took a moment to reach the top of the staircase, but beyond those steps was a hollowed out room. Rich leaves with layered vines melded atop the ceiling, and a few human items were placed around. Among them included a velvet armchair in the corner, with thick blankets neatly folded on the cushion. 

Hawks gestured toward the chair, dropping the maiden’s hand. He then tipped his head back as he waved an arm above.

The canopy that made up the ceiling had started trembling, the vines falling loose and gradually stopping. Then they blinked, like they had eyes of their own. And each one ignited with a dim lit glow like a firefly across the evening sky, giving the room a soft warmth it hadn’t before.  

“That’s beautiful.”

Hawks dropped his head in surprise. She had stopped moving halfway across the room, with attentive eyes on him. He could see a sheen of wonder on her lovely features, a trace of a smile on her lips. Hawks smiled back.

Good, she was winding down. 

“You should see the vines further in! Now, those would really take your breath away.” 

“You own more than this place?”

“My neck of the woods, remember?” 

Hawks took to playing with his leather gloves, pulling on the fingers to slip off, “So this cat of yours must be quite something. I’ll admit, I’m not all interested in human pets, but I find it curious you’d risk being kidnapped for one.”

The small glow from the vines had revealed a patchy, web of plants around the chair, violet lilies had bloomed every which way. A few more even sprung up from the cushion as she lifted the blankets. 

Maybe sitting on the floor would be preferable...

“He was my father’s cat,” she said. She moved to set the blankets down, but Hawks had come beside her, graciously collecting them from her arms. He turned, aiming to put them on the wooden desk—(which was clearly made by human hands.) “He’s the last member of my family, and honestly, that’s more than enough for a reason. ‘Least for me, anyway.”

“So you’re alone?” 

She paused. She did not expect such a blunt response, nor did she expect Hawks glancing over his shoulder, curious, would leave her throat tightening. 

She quickly turned, pretending to find the black dahlia's on the wall more fascinating, “Yes. It’s been that way since last autumn. My mother died when I was a kid, and my father was killed in a hunting accident. Now, it’s just me.” 

“Just you, huh? No males waiting in the wings to ask for your hand in...whatever?” Hawks made it sound like it was absurd. Maybe it was. 

She huffed a laugh, smiling at a dahlia, “I don’t think so.”

She was of lowly status with a deceased father who never offered an engagement. He hadn’t flaunted her youth and beauty at social gatherings, or in other towns for that matter. There simply wasn’t time for those affairs when hard labor was required to keep from starving.

“Just when I thought I couldn’t be more fortunate.” 

Hawks’ hands slipped around her hips and firmly turned her. She wasn’t used to being touched, not like this. Her skin prickled under his bare fingers, and a familiar heat burned the curves of her cheeks. They were face to face, and a breath closer. 

“Did you know I almost let you slip by? It’s not uncommon for humans to venture this far in. Figured you’d turn back around once you couldn’t find who you were calling for, but of course, heh, you fell.” At those words, his thumb began stroking small circles against her hip. Each stroke across the bone jolted down her body, “But when I caught you, I saw it. Saw how scared you were. And I knew...you didn’t want to be alone.” 

“Well, yes. I wish I was never alone,” she confessed softly. She slowly began pressing against his hand, just a little, “but that’s something everyone wishes for, isn’t it?” 

Hawks smiled at her. Though it did not crinkle the corner of his sharp eyes. “Suppose you’re not wrong there. So why not have someone change that? Why not fill the void? Isn’t that something you’d want?”

With light pressure Hawks steered her backwards, easing her against the stretch of vines across the wall. He didn’t break his stare. 

But she could only stare back for so long, dropping her gaze under the intensity in his golden eyes. Delicately, she managed a small voice and replied, “I don’t know.”

Hawks didn’t like this answer. He grasped under her jaw, firmly lifting those timid eyes back to his slightly lidded ones. 

“Oh, no, no, I think you do,” Hawks countered. His voice was hushed, a husky and darkened tone,“You’re a maiden. Back home, you’re not allowed to want for things, right? Just sit there and look pretty, keep your mouth shut. Oh but, little dove, here? All you have to do...is give in. Fill that loneliness with your desires.”

She fell still, slowly exhaling through her parted mouth as he tilted his jaw, lingering near her lips. She breathed in his deep herbal scent, and a feeling gathered in her which blurred her thoughts with a subtle ache.

Hawks waited for her motionless to pass, as though he knew what she didn’t. He relished in her flushed features, and he smiled satisfied when her eyes fluttered shut. She leaned forward, and Hawks claimed her lips. 

There she goes.

 He kissed her in a way that slipped his tongue past her lips, exploring her warmth and digging his fingers in her jawline, controlling. She was forced to stay still, breathing in when he’d part, only to be crushed into his lips once more. 

Her head was spinning, so she didn’t notice a pair of thick coils slowly creeping down the wall and slinking around her wrists. Not until a tightening on her skin, and a sudden wrench on her arms, had ripped her from Hawks’ mouth. The lively vines from above yanked her forward, and Hawks stepped back. 

While she tried digging her heels in the moss to stop their pulling, the vines only wrenched her wrists back harder. She stumbled into the center of the room. Then they braided into one, hoisting her arms up together, her feet partly touching the ground. 

“Hawks!” She called, tugging back on the vines, “What is this? Why are you—“

“—Like I said before, we need to mask your scent,” Hawks said as he strolled nonchalantly from the wall. He brushed his hand across her waist and circled round to stand behind, “And there’s really only one way for my scent to stay on you.” 

She tried glancing around, but she couldn’t crane her neck that far, not where she could see him properly. Hawks paused for a moment, and seemingly was fiddling with something near his wings. He was quiet, which only made her tense. She listened for some indication of what he was doing, waiting for him to say something. 

Finally, a loud tear of fabric filled the room. Her dress loosened at the shoulders, and cool air brushed her mid-back. Her mouth gaped in a muted gasp. She could only listen as the tear ripped again, and again, with more skin exposed downward.

“You—You can’t expect me to walk out there without a dress!” She countered shakily. She tried biting back the shame bubbling in her throat. 

“Oh, certainly not. What kind of fae do you take me for?” He asked, still tearing up her long sleeves. She looked back again, this time she had noticed a red object in his curled grip, gleaming and fairly plush.

A feather?

“I’ll have you wear something better than these rags.” 

It took little time before pieces of cloth littered the floor, allowing her simple dress to fall in a puddle around her feet, at last. But Hawks wasn’t done. He knelt softly in the navy fabric, lifting her ankles one after the other, sliding off her worn shoes. They gave a light thunk when he tossed them near the armchair. 

Amidst his working hands, the maiden struggled with her feelings. A part of her wanted the crawling binds to let her go, have her drop so she may cover her breasts. She also wanted to kick Hawks for shredding her damn dress into nothing. Better clothes or not, the dress was still hers. But ultimately what curbed her resistance towards Hawks was the guilty pang she felt for doubting him. He was there to protect her; to keep the Unseelie from finding her. And in part, it helped that his light touch pricked at her lower muscles. It kept her wishing for that feeling on the skin again...If only it weren’t so embarrassing. 

“Are you scared?” Hawks asked.

The vines must have turned her at one point, for Hawks was kneeling in front of her and peering up with a gentle hand on her outer thigh. The hand with the blood coloured feather uncurled, and the very feather slipped through his fingers like it was alive. It soared up and behind him to blend against his black wings. Then suddenly, it was just another vein.

“I uhm…” She tried managing a calmer tone, but it remained shaken, “I don’t know what to...”

“I know, dove. Trust me, I know,” he soothed, running a hand up and down her thigh in assurance, “Won’t alway be like that, though, not after we’ve done this a few times.”

There wasn’t much time to fixate on what he meant, as two fingers hooked under her last garment and pulled it down her leg to the floor.

Now there was nothing in his way.

Hawks leaned in to press his lips along her inner thigh, trailing up slowly, gently. As he neared the curve of her sex, he hiked the back of her thigh on his shoulder, then her other one followed. Those sneaky binds were clever, really. They always knew when to hoist her higher, and they comfortably propped her in this new position. 

“Hawks, hold on, hold on,” she pleaded. It was moving too fast—the sudden shift from the ground left her startled. 

Hawks didn’t listen.

His predatory eyes flicked up to find hers watching, her beautiful eyes wide as a doe’s. This made him smirk, though in a way she hadn’t seen before, “Maidens always scream, but I wonder what you’ll say?”

With those words, Hawks tongue delved between her sensitive slit—and she tossed her head back. She was breathing in sharply. Her hips impulsively stuttered toward his mouth as his tongue stroked long and deep along her sensitive spot, but it didn’t compare to when he intentionally flicked against a bundle of nerves.

Oh my god. Oh fu —She tensed, her back arching into the touch. It was a hot pleasure that wildly pulsed inside her, something intense she never felt ‘till then. She had roamed a hand between her legs before in her quiet home, always alone, always rushed. This? This paled, it had never been this much.

Hawks was clearly in tune to her body's spasms. She writhed against his open mouth, while he was pressing and swirling his tongue on the bundle in concentration, his hands slinked up to hold her hips closer. He was set on one thing, his pace was building faster to it. And oh, it rewarded him so handsomely—a rush of excitement struck down to his groin from the sound. Her cries, her moans, her unwinding pitched voice; she was becoming his with every breath. 

“Haw-Haw-aks,” it kept breaking from her lips with harsh gasps; her head hung back towards the canopy with glossy eyes. Oh god, she wanted to thread her fingers in his gold locks and press him further in her sex—Yes, fuck, right there, his mouth feels so good. Her shame be damned, all she wanted was for him to keep going. 

An unseen smile curled slightly on Hawks’ lips. 

“That’s it, little dove,” he coaxed softly between laps, “Just let my name slip out...just like that.”

He returned to latch on her clit. He sucked in hard with a wet noise, and a loud sob wrenched from her lungs. There was so much vigor, he didn’t cease, her winding pleasure rose higher, tenser, with her shaky thighs clamping tight on each side of his head. 

“ Ha-Hawks, keep going, oh, keep going, fuck, keep—“ The spasms ripped through her with another sob breaking from her mouth. Her muscle walls clenched violently. She fell into a sense of ecstasy and her orgasm released. 

Bleeding hell...She could not believe how wonderful she felt. She was so light in the head.

Hawks lapped along her folds as she rode out the last wave of her climax. He took certain care to run his mouth over her slit, which seeped with glistened come. As he finished, he wiped the corner of his mouth with his knuckle.

“Well, what’s this? Where did my shy maiden go?” He teased, looking up toward her with a playful grin, “You were making the sweetest sounds up there.”

She made an expression which had Hawks chuckling. She really was a pretty girl, with such pretty timid eyes. 

Hawks eased her legs off his shoulders, setting her down so she could step on the wood. It was a little hard though, as her tiptoes wobbled about until the vines dropped her lower. After, Hawks pushed up to stand. He pressed his body against hers and he sealed her lips with his. It was short, but she noted her own taste on his tongue before he parted. 

“You did good, dove. Heh, ready for me now? It’s my turn.” 

He then turned her. It wasn’t surprising Hawks was leading her along with little chance to respond, already brushing his lips across her neck. A hand cupped her breast and began squeezing, while his thumb rolled her nipple with tact, “Don’t worry, I’ll make this feel good...So damn good.”

He might even break her.

“But doesn’t this hurt?” She asked breathlessly. She felt naive, but that’s what the married women in town said. There was pain, and it ended with blood.

Hawk gave a reply she did not expect. His mouth which trailed gently down the curve of her neck, sucked hard into her smooth skin. An involuntary shiver ran down her spine, and her lips opened.

“You feel that? It hurt a little, didn’t it?” He whispered against her ear, “Can’t promise it won't hurt, but I can at least promise my cock will leave you twitching. You’ll be moaning, and when you come again, it’ll be when I’m deep inside you.”

She felt something thick rub between her legs, just then. The hand that toyed with her breast started roaming downward to pull back her hips. His other hand had been working on his belt prior, taking himself in hand with mild strokes. 

The lazy work on himself was fine. This wasn’t about him, well—for now, at least. He’d focus on his needs once the intended plan was carried out. But until then, keeping her aroused was Hawks’ priority. 

“Just relax...tilt your hips a little more,” he instructed, all while slicking the head of his cock like he’d done for his length. Once ready, he began lining himself toward her entrance, “Yes, that’s right, little dove. Precisely like that.”

She braced her arms against the vines with fingers curled in a tight grip, all while trying to relax her body like Hawks had said. But it was difficult to persist as Hawks advanced, and he slid his swollen cock inside her. A gasp slipped from her lips, her spine curved. He was thick. And as if he were forging through, she felt him strike his hips in shallow thrusts through her wet entrance, sink deeper in her stretching, and pulsing walls. 

It hurt, but a familiar ache spread. 

“You’ll enjoy it more if you relax.” Hawks' voice rasped thickly. He placed a hand on her lower back, gently rubbing at her spine. His length was still buried, feeling her clench--Ah, fuck. She was damn tight. He wanted to plunge forward, pound her with no mercy. It even took a good deal of restraint to hold still. “Don’t be afraid, I got you...Just let go.”

She can only nod in reply. It was going to be alright; she had to remember that. She exhaled a deep breath and tentatively eased under Hawks palm, eyes fluttering shut. She was ready, and his hands firmly settled on her sides. He then leaned back just so he could thrust forward, setting the pace with long, deep pumps.

She ached. Every thrust left her sore, but the ache was subtly there, building with Hawks momentum. The snap of his hips threw her body back and forth, shaking to his rhythm, his heavy pants in her ear. A shudder rushed down her spine, hearing his lust so crisply behind. Her lips parted to breathe, and her moans spilled out. 

“Hnng—Yesss, let me hear you. Fuck, you take my cock so deep,” he growled lowly.

Hawks thrusts were sounding wet as his pounding in her skin quickened unsteadily. He’d admit, this was reckless for a virgin maiden, but he wouldn’t hadn’t planned on stopping now for her sake. Hawks was chasing his own orgasm, and as he mentioned before; this was his turn. 

In that moment, she was thankful her arms were strung up, for it was her only support against his unyielding smacks inside her. But the rhythm changed, as Hawks jerked her hips back into an arched angle. Another cry spilled from her lungs. 

Christ, why did it feel so fucking good?! When Hawks snapped hard, his length struck an intense patch in her inner walls, and a beautifully sweet mixture of pain and pleasure shook in her core. 

Hawks felt her violent twitch, which only excited the fae. 

“You like that, sweet dove? It feels like you fucking do! Let me hear you scream!”

She did in fact, cry out. 

All her senses fell to the pleasure, the euphoria, the sweet pain of each thrash. And he pounds—and he pounds, and he pounds. Until she felt something warm flood her insides, and another writhing, hot pleasure ignited her nerves in a violent crash. 

Then there was only the sound of their heavy breaths. He stayed sheathed inside, all while blood had bloomed across the maiden’s thighs.

***

Just before the evening turned to dusk, Hawks had awoken from the makeshift bed he assembled from the folded blankets. At first, he only buried his cheek into the maiden’s loose hair, and drew his arms tightly around her bareback, just so she fit snug against his own bare chest. She was warm, so soft in his arms as she slept soundly.

Then came a gentle breeze that wisped at his forehead, brushing at his thick pieces of hair. 

Swirling on those winds echoed a voice.

“Little dove.”

This only warranted a deep growl, though Hawks hadn’t made an effort to move from his maiden’s warmth.

“Cut that shit out, I haven’t told her yet,” he mumbled with an edge in his tone. He refused to crack open his eyes, and craving sleep more than anything he dismissed the voice abruptly. 

The room fell silent.

It obeyed him, not the other way around.

“What’s said is said,” —Hawks adjusted his body, gently rubbing his face on her head, “You wish to never be alone, well, wish granted. You’re mine now little dove...Mine, forever.”

There’s no reply from his maiden, whose gentle breathing was doing a lovely job of lulling Hawks deeper into the pull of sleep. She wouldn’t like it, oh he knew she wouldn’t. But she’d learn to. And she’d learn her efforts of finding her missing cat were all in vain. After all, the cat never made it far into the forest. He scared off that pathetic thing, but he watched the maiden wander. 

What’s said is said, and there’s nothing she could do to change it. 

***

@pleasantanathema @present-mel @enjifuckersupreme @redflannel

[slashxrose]

Surprise, love -Duff Mckagan-

Title: Surprise, Love.

Warnings: explicit content. 

Summary: I don’t use to do summary of my stories, y’all is gonna love it anyway; enjoy. 

Dirty reading~

Duff Mckagan is the last person I expect to see on my doorstep, wet from the San Francisco mist, a faded green duffle bag at his feet.

Even years removed my heart still clutches at the sight of his hair, the boyish grin on his face. The smile doesn’t reach his eyes the way it used to, but I’m not able to catch much more of him before he’s pulling me into a bear hug and lifting me off the ground.

To put you all in context, Duff was my best friend ... and the best boyfriend someone could ever had, for most of my life, he was my neighbour when we were just born, little kids, getting to know each other from there and living a whole life together; I watched from when his first tooth fell out to when he had to take his first flight to go with the band to San Francisco, the place where I currently live now.

It surprises me, and it shocks me to see him, so changed after so many years, so many years without looking him in the eye, without knowing anything about him; today he is finally here, standing in front of me.

Trying not to break down in tears the emotions hit my being in a wave; remembering the day he left me at the airport and then never see him again; exactly in 1991, after his great "Use your illusion." I never heard from him again.

“Babe,” he breathes, I press my face into his neck, a laugh bubbling up out of my throat, “I missed you.”

“Yeah,” I manage.

I can feel my eyes pricking because I have missed him, too much. We’ve kept up as much as we could over the years, but with him overseas and my steadily making my way around the country, it had gotten difficult. I haven’t heard from him in a few months, and I haven’t seen him in a few years – probably eight, if I think about it. Instead of thinking about it, though, I wrap my arms tight around him and try not to let myself cry at the feeling of him engulfing me.

“I missed you too, Duff.”

I get him up to my apartment and let him settle onto my couch before I ask him any questions, mainly because I can’t quite find my voice and I can’t believe Duff is in my apartment, right now. He beats me to the punch, settling back into my couch and peeking over at me in the kitchen.

“This place is really nice.”

I nod, filling a glass up with water for him and then looking up at him, a smile on my lips.

“It’s alright,” I shrug, shutting off the tap and making my way over to the couch, handing it to him before I sit down, one leg tucked beneath me. “I got lucky.”

Duff sips the water and looks around, shaking his head. My apartment is nice – it’s got floor to ceiling windows and sleek, modern appliances and a killer view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

“Not luck,” he shrugs. “You deserve it, you worked your ass off for this place.”

I swallow, smiling over at him and feeling my cheeks flush – in part, because he’s right, and in part, because he’s wrong.

“Duff,” I laugh my voice soft. I tuck some hair behind my ear and looks up at him. “How’d you find me?”

Duff shrugs, setting the water glass down on my coffee table and turning to face me, leaning his arm over the back of my couch.

“I went home, first...talked to your mom, she gave me your address for if I ever wound up out west. Figured,” he shrugs, laughing, “It’d be more of a surprise if I didn’t tell her I already knew I was coming out this way.”

I shake my head, pressing my fingertips to my face.

“Oh god… I cannot believe my mum did that after all the things I told her, honestly.” I sigh, dropping my hand and raising my brow. “So, she didn’t know you were coming out here...but you did?”

Duff nods.

“Yes, I did… I’ve gotta come back to the hotel in a couple of hours… We’re flying to Europe, we’re gonna start a new tour I guess, we don’t really know, but I figured I could make a stop before I check into my hotel.” I swallow, watching his fingers flex against the couch cushion.

“Another tour?” I raise my brows. “You’ve been on tour the last eight years.”

“That’s what happens when you’re a famous rockstar babe, you never stop….” he laughs, his voice low. “I’m thinking I’ll be out here a bit, actually, trying to convince the boys to stop a little, I want to see you more often.” I try not to let my reaction show on my face, but this is Duff, so I know I’m not exactly subtle.

I chew on the inside of my cheek as I think about it, about Duff, just half an hour away instead of across the world.

“Wow,” I breathe, smiling over at him. “I’d get to see you, then?”

“If you want to,” Duff shrugs, and I roll my eyes at him, reaching over and swatting at his arm.

We cover the basics with his hand on my knee: I moved to San Francisco alone, I work for a newspaper, and I’m a runner now. He’s been back on tour and he’s not going to go so far away again, and he’s thinking about stop touring a little bit.

Wow.

I slide my hand over his and look down at it, brushing my thumb against the back and humming softly as I look up at him, a smile on my lips.

“So you’re telling me,” I say, my voice soft, “you’re a big enough deal the boys to stop touring, what they’re supposed to be doing?”

Duff rolls his eyes, glancing down to our hands and then back up to mine, his gaze soft. I try to focus on anything other than the look in his eyes and settles on his mouth, chewing on the inside of my cheek, because I know it’s a mistake immediately. Bad things tend to happen when I look at Duff Mckagan’ mouth.

“I’m telling you I could do it,” he shrugs, and I watch intently as he runs his tongue over his lower lip, his fingers pressing lightly against my leg. “We’ll find out, I guess; Steven’ planning to go to rehab…” He probably saw my intrigued face, so he immediately keeps talking. “I’ll tell you in a bit about it.” He smiles at me and I nod. “Slash has two little annoying but cute kids… so he’s gonna be busy with that, and Izzy… Well Izzy fucking left the damn band, so there’s no problem with him.”

I nod, feeling my lips shift into a soft smile, Wow, it’s surprising how everything changed since the last time I saw him, every one of them were idk… almost 30 years old, playing and joking around, being drunk and high as fuck, I never… I mean, we never thought that the band was gonna become this famous.

“Well,” I say, “I’m happy for you, Duff. You’re all grown up.”

Duff laughs, pulling his hand from my leg and rubbing his hand over his jaw slowly, swallowing.

“We’re both grown up, honey,” he chuckles, and I let myself meet his gaze. I stuck in a slow breath, feeling how heavy his eyes are on mine, letting the feeling wash over me easily. “Easy to see that, right?”

I nod and sit up a bit, settling my hand on Duff’s forearm, brushing my thumb slowly against his skin.

“Easy,” I say my voice barely above a whisper. “Too easy.” I don’t know why sitting here with him like this makes me feel like I could cry.

I squeeze my eyes shut, sighing out a slow breath and tightening my grip on his arm.

“I really missed you. I know we,” I shake my head, “I know we covered that, kind of, but...god, Duff.” I swallow, heavy, keeping my eyes shut so I don’t have to look at him as the words tumble out of my mouth, “I really didn’t know if I would ever see you again, you know? No matter how safe you told me you were, you almost had a fucking overdose… too much alcohol, too much shit.”

Duff doesn’t say anything, but I feel him shifting on the sofa. I feel him scooting closer to me. His breath wisps over my skin, and I feel like I might be shaking. I should stop him – I knows I should, I knows it’s the right thing to do with all of us history, all of the feelings that stretch out between us – but there’s an ache in my chest that I don’t think will let me. I squeeze his forearm, holding onto it with my fingers and hear myself let out a soft noise as his nose touches mine.

“Babe,” he murmurs, and I nod, my eyes still squeezed shut. “I’m good; you don’t have to worry anymore.”

“I know,” I breathe out, and I slide my hand off his arm and slip my fingers into his hair. I pulling him towards me, kissing him in the way I had imagined doing for years, for a lifetime, even. I’d never kissed him like this, so tender and slow, so intentional, so full. I whine into it, feeling tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

It feels like my heart is whole, even for just a moment.

Duff’s always been the boy I turned to when I was hurting, always been the person who knew me the best, who could make me feel good. This, though, is different – this kiss isn’t sweet, childhood tenderness, its gut wrenching in the most wonderful way. My stomach twists into a knot and then settles as his arm wraps around my waist, my ears rush harshly as his tongue moves against mine, my heart pounds in my chest as I feel both of our cheeks, touch against each other.

This is Duff, the man, safe in his arms, telling me he’s here, telling me I’m his. He hasn’t said it, but I can tell...I can tell from the way he’s kissing me that this was him, standing on her doorstep, asking me to let him in and keep him.

For tonight, at least, I can do that.

I crawl into his lap and press my fingers into his hair, my thumbs dragging along his face, my breathing ragged against his skin.

“Duff,” I whisper, brushing my lips against his, “I have a bed.”

Duff’s breathing is possibly more laboured than my own as he slips his hand beneath the back of my t-shirt, his fingertips pressing lightly into my skin.

“I assumed,” he mumbles, his mouth praying for mine, “This is a big apartment.”

I nod in a smile, grinning against his lips;

“Want to,” I tip my face down, my forehead pressed to his as I move slowly in his lap, my lips just out of his reach, “take a look at it?”

Duff lets out a low laugh, nodding and mumbling,

“Smooth,” against my mouth as he keeps his arm locked around my waist. He stands up, lifting me with him, I wrap my legs around him as he settles me in his grip.

I direct him to the bedroom, settling my feet down on the ground and swallowing as my eyes fall on a picture frame settled on my nightstand.

“Shirt,” I breathe, looking at Duff, who’s sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at me with a dazed smile on his lips, “shirt off, rockstar.” He lets out a low laugh, and I takes a moment to flip the picture frame face down while his shirt is obstructing his view, then tugs at the hem of my own shirt before taking a step forward, pulling it off as I stations myself between his legs.

I settle my hands on his bare shoulders, dragging my hands down along his skin slowly, then moving it back up and cupping his face in my hands. I slide my thumb over his lower lip and hiccups, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“God,” I whisper, letting my eyes move over his face, taking him in. I’d never felt so full before. My vision blurs as I watch him, feels his hands settle over my waist.

He had changed, years without seeing him… without feeling him, I missed his touch, his kisses, I missed him so bad.

“Honey,” he says, and his voice has that lilt to it – the what are you crying for lilt, and I don’t have an answer. I bit down on my lower lip, shaking my head and trying to stop myself. His hand reaches up to my cheek and I lean into his touch, feeling my tears seep onto his skin.

I want to tell him...about the photo, about the man in the photo, about the way their timing is truly, continually, terrible. Instead, I lean my face down and kiss his palm, swallowing hard as I hear his own breath going wet.

“Come here,” he says, his voice thick, low.

I don’t need him to say it twice. I crawl into his lap and he shifts them back onto the bed, his hands moving shakily along my skin.

He flips them and undresses me carefully, his eyes moving over every new part of me as it becomes exposed. He unhooks my bra and pulls it slowly down my arms, unbuttons and unzips my jeans and tugs them over my hips, hooks his fingers into the waistband of my panties and tugs at them, slowly, his lips pressing to my stomach as he does, the gasp tearing from my throat involuntary, I swear.

Something in my brain tugs, that I should be embarrassed, being so naked in front of this man who’s known me for my entire life, but no. I can’t be, with the way he’s looking at me, with the adoration and want in his eyes. I let my hands slide along his arms, breathing slowly as he looks at me, takes me in, and then I settle my fingers against his belt buckle.

“I can’t be the only one naked here, baby,” I say, my voice soft, and the smile on his lips is so soft that I feel my cheeks flush.

I unbuckle his belt shakily, watching as he gets himself out of his pants, pushes off his boxers. I bites on my lower lip at the sight of him, half-hard for me, then drags my eyes up to his face, smiling at the way his cheeks are flushed. I sit up a little, wrapping my hand around him gently, dragging my fingertips lightly along his length and shutting my eyes, leaning my forehead against his chest because I don’t think I can take the look on his face, the pure emotion rippling through him.

“Fuck,” he bites out, and his hand slides to the back of her neck, his thumb dragging along the base of it slowly. His voice is shaky when he says my name, and I twist my wrist slowly, smiling as I feel him growing harder in my hand.

Yes, honey, I know you like this.

He shifts my back on the bed, pressing my legs apart so he can settle between them and leaning down to kiss me, drawing his tongue slowly over my lower lip as his thumb drags over my inner thigh. The mixture of sensations has me shaking, already, and he hasn’t even touched me where I want him to yet.

He’s gentle with me, at first. His fingers press lightly against my wet folds, testing the waters, working slowly as I breathe out heavy sighs to keep myself calm.

He’s driving me crazy.

His lips press over my collarbone lightly, dragging against my skin slowly as he dips a finger into me, then another. He hums against the hollow of my neck as his thumb circles my clit lightly, and I feel my hips lifting off the bed to find more of him, knowing he isn’t giving it to me yet.

“Oh god-” I groaned.

I come apart on his fingers, shakily, one of my hands gripped tightly into his hair. His mouth is on my neck and I whine, searching for his face.

“I need you.” I breathe, and he lifts his head slowly, grazing his lips over mine.

“You keep driving me crazy as the first day we met.” he murmurs.

I stop him, slipping my tongue into his mouth. I can’t hear him, like this, not right now. I need him to fuck me, need him, before I get too rational and stop him entirely.

This is too much, I can feel it – I’m going to break the both of us, but I can’t possibly end it before I feel him, before I know what it’s like to have him inside me, again.

“Duff,” I moaned against his mouth, lifting my hips and hooking a leg around his waist, trying to pull him closer. “I need you.”

He nods, slow, just once, and I love him for it. I love that he isn’t trying to tease this out, that he’s listening to me, that we both want this so badly that dragging it along isn’t appealing at all. I slide my hands up to his face, holding it and keeping my eyes on him, my heart still hammering. He locks eyes with me as I feel his tip pressing at my entrance, and I suck in a hard breath, watching his face.

He cracks the softest smile, and I feel my resolve breaking.

“Duff,” I breathe, my voice full, my eyes stinging, “please.”

I want him in a way I can’t understand – it’s something about the way he knows me, I think, absently, as his eyes trail over my face, down my body.

It’s about the way he held my hand when I fell off the jungle gym and broke my arm when we were six, it’s about the way he shoved an old friend of mine for calling me a bitch when we were eleven, it’s about the desperate way he kissed me back in her car when we were sixteen, it’s about the way he made me and makes me feel right now. It’s about the fact that he’s the same Duff he’s always been, but something else altogether, too. The boy I’ve always known, and the man I’ve always wanted, hovering above me, about to make me his, even when I belong to someone else.

But I didn’t care.

One of his hands brushes my cheek, and I slide my own to press over his, to keep him there. I hold his gaze as he pushes into me, slow, filling me. I let out a soft laugh, turning my face into his hand and rolling my hips.

“Please,” I murmur against his skin, “I want to feel you, Duff.”

He’s slow, but not in a torturous way. His eyes stick on mine as he rocks his hips into mine, as the fingers of his free hand trail along my leg, over my hip, tracing little shapes. I feel him, all of him, and my legs tighten around his hips to keep him as close as I can. His strokes are long, deep, and I know neither of us is going to last long, regardless of the speed.

“As my queen commands.” Duff softly replied, smirking before kissing my lips deeply as he thrust deep inside me.

The sudden feeling of being filled with a cock as big as him made me cry out in pleasure breaking the kiss as my back arched, I felt his fingers holding my hips lightly, making the movements to go harder. His own groans of pleasure mixed with mine as they filled the room, he started to move slowly, taking his time as our lips re-joined together with our tongues dancing and warping round each other, as our hands roamed each other’s bodies just feeling blindly in a that need to be close.

I feel my walls constricted around him, he started to move faster and found that bundle of nerves that made me touch the sky with my hands, his moans made an echo in my ear, they were loud, he was really enjoying this, making me instantly lose all the control, all sense of who and where I was, right now it was just the two of us; the world outside didn't matter, the day ahead didn't matter everything I can focus on was in him and nothing was going to stop that.

“Oh shit babe, yes.- ” I moaned. “Keep doing that oh god-” I wrapped his curlers in my fingers holding him, his thrusts collided with my body causing a lack of control in all my senses, damn I had missed this.

His movements were wild and erratic but so perfect precise, he knew all the right buttons to press. I open my eyes again to see him above me, his face the clear picture of pleasure and need, I never had seen anyone become so desperate and undone for me. A man like him with such talent showing a side of himself only to me that so few ever got to see, but in truth he would only ever truly become this undone and this vulnerable for me.

My hands slid down from his hair, trailing down his back across his slightly sweating skin as they found that perfect ass of his. His lips moving to my neck again as tears of happiness, love and pleasure fell.

“Oh my sweet babe.” Duff moaned shakily as he continued thrust deep into me, all I could do was cry out with pleasure and need.

“Oh Duff I love you.” I gasp thrusting up to meet his own movement's.

He’s nothing like I’ve ever felt, before – there’s something about the presence of him, of his body over mine, of his eyes watching me, his breath mixing with my own.

“Babe,” he breathes, his face tipping down, his lips finding mine. I sat up a bit, my hips shifting to meet his, to hit at a new angle. I weave my fingers into his curly hair and grips onto it as I kiss him, our tongues pressed together as I feel the heat pooling in my stomach, knows I’m closer than I’d even like to admit.

His hand moves from my leg to dip between them, pressing against my clit slowly, tracing over my nerves delicately before finding a pattern. I can tell he’s close, too, his breathing getting heavier, his thrusts more erratic.

“C’mon babe” I murmur against his mouth, “I want to feel you, Duff, I want to know what you feel about me.” my words fade into a whine as I feel him pressing more firmly to my clit, rolling it between his fingers.

I come hard, around him, feeling him spill into me moments later, our moans mixing together as he presses me down into the mattress.

“Oh damn.” He moans loudly in my ear.

We lay still, for a long while. I scratch sleepily at the back of his neck, Duff start kissing my neck softly as we cling to each other, trying to calm down. He pulls out of me slowly, smiling to himself as I groan at the loss, and I hum as he lays back down, still pressing his weight down against me.

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere,” I whisper, my lips pressed against the side of his head, “until I say so.”

Duff nods. “Got it, you’re in charge,” he murmurs, “so nothing’s really changed, huh?”

I laugh, but I feel the pang in my chest, knowing the truth – because yes, almost everything really has changed, and he doesn’t even know the half of it.

I must fall asleep, because when I woke up it’s dark outside and I hear him moving around...somehow, I just knew in that moment that he knows, now. I sit up slowly, pulling the sheets to my chest and pressing my hand over her face.

“Duff?”

He pokes his head out of the bathroom and smiles at me softly. When he steps through the door, he’s got his boxers on, and I feel my heart clench in my chest.

“What’s his name, babe?” He sits on the edge of the bed and pull my hand from my face, lacing his fingers with mines. “He’s got some nice pomades, in there...expensive.”

“Duff,” my voice is hollow, I look up at him with pleading eyes. “I can explain all of this, okay?”

He nods, brushing his thumb over mine.

“I know,” he swallows, his voice thick. “What’s his name?”

I sigh out a breath and casts my eyes upwards, trying not to cry.

“Daniel…” I answer, quietly. “We’ve been...I moved in a few months ago, but it’s been a little over a year.”

I don’t let myself close my eyes, making myself look at him as he swallows, processing my words and looking around the room.

“You love him?”

“Duff,” I don’t know how to answer that question, not right now.

He’s been away for a while, and came here making me feel lost and complete at the same time, now I don’t even know where or who I am.

“Does he make you happy, hun? That’s,” he lets out a soft, wet laugh, “that’s really...what I’m asking you.” I nod, looking down at our hands. “Good.”

“I didn’t,” I croak, and I hate myself for it. “I didn’t know when you...if you,” I shake my head. “I didn’t know, Duff. I didn’t know if I...if–,”

“I didn’t want you waiting for me,” he supplies, shaking his head and looking at me, straight on. “I’m glad you didn’t, I... I slept with a lots of girls too… I can’t blame you for this.”

I feel desperate, scoots myself closer to him and settles a hand on his cheek.

“I’m not,” I breathe, wanting to press my face to his and hesitating. “You’re here, now, Duff.”

Duff nods, and bridges the gap. He presses his forehead against mine, finding my eyes.

“I’m not leaving,” he says, his voice low. “I told you,” he swallows, “I’m not gonna go away without you next time. If I convince the boys…damn.”

I nod.

“And I’ll be here,” I murmur. “But someone else is gonna be here with me…”

He shuts his eyes, squeezing my hand.

“For now,” he shrugs, “and maybe for good, but,” he opens his eyes and looks at me, fully.

My feels tear pooling in my eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere. I...I believe in this, babe. I wouldn't be here if I didn’t.”

I take a long breath, nodding slowly. I realize he doesn’t mean here, my apartment – he means here, in San Francisco...that he wouldn’t be considering this job if it wasn’t for me. I understand his meaning, here: I’m in charge.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, and he shakes his head, but I stop him. “No, I should’ve told you.”

“His shoes were by the door, babe, I saw them.” he says, his voice soft. “I’m not an idiot.”

I feel something break in me, and I find Duff’s mouth, kissing him softly.

“God,” I laugh, my voice low, my lips pressed to his, “we really can’t get it right, huh?”

Duff kisses me, soft and slow, his tongue tracing my lip before he pulls away. He stands up from the bed and I watch, my eyes wide and soft as he moves around, grabbing his clothes and pulling them on.

“To be determined,” he decides, as he’s buckling his belt.

I chew on my cheek, getting out of bed and finding my robe. I wrap it around me and follows him out into the living room, watching as he grabs his duffel bag.

“You can stay,” I say, my voice hoarse, and he looks over his shoulder at me, shaking his head.

“I won’t leave,” he swallows, and I shut my eyes for a moment at his words. I nod.

“Okay,” I whisper. “So when will I see you?”

Duff sighs out a breath as he pulls the bag over his shoulder, then wraps his arm around my waist. He walks me over to the door before he pulls me against him, leaning his face down, kissing me softly.

“I’ll be here another week,” he says, his voice low, “and then...depending on things, I’ll be here for good. So,” he finds my eyes, “up to you, okay? You call me.”

I nod, my head spinning.

“Don’t disappear on me, okay?” I beg.

He shakes his head, softly, kissing me lightly.

“Promise, I won’t.” He replies.

I feel him pull his arms away, and I wrap my own around myself so I don’t do something stupid, like pull him back into my bedroom. I watch as he grabs the doorknob, opening the door and taking a step through it.

“Call me when you get to your hotel?”

He nods, leaning down and kissing me gently.

“I will,” he breathes against my mouth.

By the time I open my eyes, he’s gone. My phone buzzes on the kitchen island and my heart drops, but when I flip it over, it’s Duff.

‘Miss you already, you know that?’

I press it to my chest and shut my eyes, taking deep breaths – in part, to calm down, and in part, because I did.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Femme Fatale - Ch 2 / 2

Pairing: Alex x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: Sub!Alex, Domme!Reader, pegging, blow job on a dildo, praise kink, bondage, cock bondage, spreader bar, dirty talk about exhibitionism, degradation Word Count: 3.2k Created for: @spnkinkbingo - Praise Kink | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Blindfolds

A/N: Thank you so much for being my first ever commission Sin! I've had a lot of fun tackling this challenge because I've never written a Domme!reader before but I really appreciate you trusting me with your idea, and I hope I do it justice ❤️

Series Masterlist

Alex has been waiting so patiently. Since he and Y/N had gone to Femme Fatale a few weeks ago, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about everything he saw there. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what he saw Jared doing – or more accurately, what he saw being done to Jared.

Seeing Jared submit so publicly to all those people had been mesmerising; Jensen watching on proudly from the sidelines, offering Jared encouragement and praise when Jared finally couldn’t take it any longer and asked permission to cum. Jared had spurted into Jensen’s hand, held just below him while some tiny thing continued to pound into him from behind, her own domme egging her on the whole time, and then Jared had dutifully licked Jensen’s hand clean for him when he was finished. Alex had thought he was going to cream his shorts just from watching but he’d managed to restrain himself until they got home and Y/N had ridden him until they were both shuddering and sated.

He’s been dreaming about it, waking up hard every morning since that night. And not just semi-chubbed up – achingly, maddeningly, rock-solid and leaking. It’s gotten him into trouble, because he hasn’t been able to resist touching himself when he’s that hard up, and he’s not allowed to do that. Y/N had actually brought home a cock cage the night before for him to sleep in, so he didn’t wind up breaking his rules and ruining her plans for him. She can’t very well give him what he’s been dreaming about for weeks if he’s misbehaving.

Y/N had brought home a few other things last night along with the cock cage – she’d clearly enjoyed her shopping trip a little too much. The object of his fantasies is now sitting in front of him in the centre of their bed, black and threatening against the crisp, pale linens of the rest of the bedroom. The strap-on was a good size. Alex had been nervous that Y/N would be too cautious, too gentle with him, and get something shamefully small, but she hadn’t. Caution has never been her style anyways. He’s already getting ahead of himself imagining what it will be like to take something even bigger.

Alex is wearing the other new addition to their collection, a silicone plug that has been holding him open for the past hour or so while he kneels, waiting, at the foot of the bed. He had settled easily into the familiar position, his ankles and knees spread wide and in line while he sat back lightly on the spreader bar holding his legs apart. Being held open like this, he has to concentrate on staying tight so the plug doesn’t slip out. He knows if it does, he’ll be punished.

Y/N is in the shower, part of her ritual when they plan longer play sessions like this. She leaves Alex to sit and settle into his headspace while she uses the steam and the quiet to find her own. At the sound of the hairdryer, Alex feels his cock try to harden inside its restraint. That sound means Y/N is almost ready for him, and it’s a conditioned response by now, the excited heat he feels creeping under his skin. The sound of the door opening and closing comes a moment later, and Alex’s cock gives another smothered leap. She’s in the room with him now.

The scrape of blunt nails across the short hairs at the nape of his neck makes Alex shake, and the cuffs on his wrists and ankles rattle. He tries to crane his head back to see her but she pulls away, and he knows that means he’s not supposed to look yet.

“Have you been good for me, baby boy?” Y/N’s voice rings sweetly above him, sinking into his veins like a shot of something cool and calm. She’s using Jensen’s nickname for Jared again, the name he’s come to associate with this act. With dildos and harnesses and boys on their knees showing off how good they can be when they’re told what to do – when they’re owned like he and Jared are.

“Yes, Mistress,” Alex answers steadfastly. He has been good, he knows he has. He has been perfect for her.

“Yes, I can see you have been,” and he can hear the smile in Y/N’s voice, even though she still won’t move to where he can see her. He gasps suddenly but manages to choke it off before he gets too loud. Y/N had bent down to tap against his plug, nudging it maddeningly close to his prostate. “Good boy,” Y/N drops a small kiss to his shoulder in recognition of his efforts to keep quiet.

Alex savours the compliment, smiling proudly until a wisp of black trails up his back and over his eyes – his blindfold. He instantly deflates as Y/N secures the tie at the back of his head. He wants to see her. Well really, he wants to see her with a cock jutting out from her hips. He desperately hopes this doesn’t mean he won’t get to do that. A sharp tug on his cock sends Alex’s back rigid again as he tries to hold in the cry of shock at the sudden pain, however short lived.

“If you’re going to mope, we can stop right now,” Y/N speaks gently against his ear. She’s not mean about it, not cruel or teasing, she’s simply informing him.

“No, sorry, I’m sorry,” Alex sits as straight as he can manage, shoulders back, thighs and spine tensed.

“It’s okay, baby boy,” Y/N slips the back of her hand across his cheek and down his chest before pulling away. The creak of the bed springs tell Alex that she’s climbed on, hopefully, he prays as fervently as he can, to retrieve the strap-on she’d left him to contemplate this whole time. There’s moving and rustling and breathing but it’s all muddling together in his ears. He can’t make out where anything is, what anything is. He can only wait.

Something firm brushes against his lips. Y/N is in front of him now, and, he hopes, wearing the harness. The dildo is what’s pressing at his lips, and it is pressing now, not just brushing against them. Y/N wants him to let her in. He does, with relish.

“Good boy,” Y/N intones above him, her hands reaching for his head and combing through his hair. She doesn’t try directing him at first, just lets him explore the toy on his own. The silicone feels odd against his lips, it dries too quickly every time he pulls back so his mouth catches against its veins on each push back in. He isn’t sure how much of it he’s managing to fit into his mouth but he finds his limit fairly quickly, accidentally gagging himself and having to pull off.

“Sorry,” he pants, wishing he could wipe the spit that’s dripping down his chin, but his arms are still tied to the bar behind him. He must look so pathetic right now. His cock gives another twinge in its cage.

“It’s okay baby boy, try again, you can do it.” Y/N reassures him gently and pulls his mouth back to the toy. This time, when he reaches his limit and starts to pull away, Y/N stops him. She grips his hair tightly and holds the back of his head still on her cock. Alex gags again but stays still, and after a moment the intrusion doesn’t feel as bothersome. “Good boy,” Y/N murmurs above him, and Alex’s chest swells with warmth. “Just take a little more for me, baby boy. There we go,” Y/N eases him down just a fraction, and Alex starts to suck to distract his throat from wanting to push the toy out the other way.

“Fuck, you look so good like this baby,” Y/N sighs above him, petting his hair in appreciation. “Can just imagine how jealous all those guys at the club would be, seeing you suck me down so good. They’d all want a turn. It’s a shame to have you waste such a pretty mouth on a cock that can’t even feel it.” Alex moans around the toy and Y/N lets him pull back to suckle at the head. “You tryin’ to make me cum, baby boy?” Y/N laughs as Alex nods. “Such a fucking cumslut, aren’t you? Perfect fucking toy for that club.”

Alex’s mouth is suddenly empty and the air around him grows still and cold. He wants to call out, ask where she’s gone, but he doesn’t dare. Y/N keeps him waiting, testing him to see if he can behave, if he can keep quiet.

He passes.

The restraints holding his wrists to the bar click as Y/N undoes the buckles. She carefully rubs each wrist and moves the arm gently back and forth so she doesn’t shock his joints, before placing each hand palm down on the bed in front of him.

“Stand up, and keep bent over.” Alex pushes up from his knees onto his toes gracefully, in a move reminiscent of a yoga transition, and sinks his head and shoulders to the mattress, back arching and feet still widespread, leaving his ass open and on display. Arousal courses through him from the depth of the submission in this position. “So pretty,” Y/N coos. “I’ll have to bring a camera next time.” Next time. Alex’s blood sings at the promise, and he hasn’t even been fucked yet.

A fingernail trails lightly over the head of his cock through its cage, and he groans, unable to hold it in. That earns him a smack right over the plug sticking out of his exposed hole. He can’t stop the moan that follows that either, and Y/N repeats the motion harder, and harder again.

“C’mon baby, if you’re gonna moan like a little bitch then at least try to sound sexy while you do it,” she sneers behind him. Alex feels his body flame red under the insult. “You just sound like a slut. There’s plenty of those to go around, nothing making you special.” Alex cries out at the next hit and feels a spurt of precome force its way out of his cock. “That’s more like it,” Y/N praises, and he sighs in relief that he got it right.

The next sound Alex hears is the snick of a plastic cap – lube – he clenches just thinking about it. Then the plug in him is being twisted, swirled and thrust in and out of him teasingly. He moans again, now that he has permission, and Y/N pumps the plug in even harder as a reward. His ass doesn’t want to let it go when she pulls it away, oh so slowly, but it’s almost immediately replaced with her finger. It’s much thinner than the plug, and Alex feels his hole fluttering around it wantonly, silently begging for more, which she readily gives.

A second finger follows quickly and easily. The third is tougher, this time it’s a stretch, but the tight pain sends another shot of warmth through his cock and leaks out of the tip onto the bed. Y/N notices.

“You like that, baby boy?” she asks, sugar sweet. Alex nods and whines, and her fingers leave him instantly.

“Yes, Mistress!” he corrects, arching his back to try to find her fingers. She obliges him and pushes them in again.

“You think you’re ready?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he answers properly, fucking himself back into her hand.

“Okay,” she withdraws her fingers and gives his butt a soothing pat. “On the bed, on your back for me, yeah?”

“Yes, Mistress.” Alex turns to sit on the bed and hoists himself back until he can feel their pillows and headboard behind him. He lays down, bending his knees and pulling them back to his chest. The bed dips below him as Y/N climbs on too, crawling between Alex’s legs. Another click, more lube drips down his ass, the cool liquid pooling on the covers as it runs off his ass. He feels the dildo press against his hole and he holds his breath.

The first nudge inside of him is strange. It’s thicker and rounder than anything he’s had back there before. The second little push is uncomfortable, and Alex scrunches his eyes shut, even though, with the blindfold on, it doesn’t make much difference. Y/N’s hands smooth up the backs of his thighs, rubbing gently, soothing the tension that had rocketed through them a moment before. After a few seconds of sympathetic touching Alex manages to relax, and he feels the dildo slip a little further inside of him.

Y/N keeps up soft cooing noises under her breath, making sure Alex knows how good he’s being, what a perfect baby boy he’s being for her. The praise makes him glow, and helps him forget the pain that’s still pulsing dully between his legs.

“I think you deserve a little reward, for being so good,” Y/N whispers when she’s finally pushed the toy all the way in, her hips flush with his.

“Can I see you?” Alex asks desperately. “Wanna look at you Mistress, please.”

“That’s what you want?” Y/N laughs, a little creully. “I was going to take this off,” her fingers skim over his balls and the cock cage keeping him soft and Alex jumps under the touch, “but if you want the blindfold off instead…” Y/N trails off, leaving the choice up to him. Alex falters, caught out by his own eagerness. If Y/N doesn’t take the cage off him now, she might not take it off at all. But on the other hand, the thought of not being able to see her the rest of the night… not being able to watch her fucking him, to see the cock pushing in and out of his body, the same sight he’d been so transfixed by when he was watching it happen to Jared… he needs to see it.

“The blindfold,” Alex whimpers as Y/N continues to tease his cock through the metal rings clamped around it. “Take off the blindfold, please, Mistress.”

“As you wish.”

Alex blinks up at Y/N’s smiling face as his eyes adjust to the light in the room. She looks fucking sexy. She’s in the same lingerine that she’d worn to Femme Fatale that night, the set he’d picked out for her to wear, and the addition of the leather harness at her hips is unfairly attractive. Alex glances down to their hips, takes in the sight of his cock lying limp against his stomach in its little metal prison, and skims further down to catch a glimpse of shiny black poking out from between their bodies. He swallows hard. This was absolutely the right decision.

“Like what you see baby boy?” Y/N taunts, swivelling her hips just a little to pull a groan from him as the dildo rubs against his prostate.

“Fuck yes,” Alex whines, the sound catching high in his throat and pouring out of him raggedly.

“Gonna let me fuck you now?” she asks sweetly, swinging her hips again.

“Fucking please, Mistre– fuck!” Alex shouts as Y/N pulls out and pistons her hips back in harshly. The pain is still there but the sharp strike of the toy inside him sends something like lightning up his spine that drowns out any other feeling his body is trying to conjure.

“Such a dirty mouth,” Y/N pants, beginning to sound out of breath as she fucks his ass relentlessly. “Love that about you, baby. Let me hear you.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” That’s the only word Alex can remember right now. He’s been waiting for this, dreaming about this, for so long and now it’s finally happening he can’t hold himself back. His cock aches and his head goes fuzzy as all the blood in his body tries to drain to his groin to get him hard but the cage keeps him soft and passive. It doesn’t stop him from leaking precum all over his stomach though. It’s dripping down his side, pooling in his belly button, leaving him slick and sticky and fucking humiliated the more he looks at it. Y/N catches where he’s looking and smirks, running her fingers through the offending liquid and bringing it to his lips.

“Look at this fucking mess, such a needy little slut aren’t you?” Alex whimpers and nods, head jerking back as Y/N pushes his hips up so she can get even deeper. “Like my cock in your ass baby boy?” Alex nods again, lost for words and breath. “Can’t wait to see how much more this slutty little hole can take. Maybe it can take two? What do you think about that, me and someone else fucking you open so you’re all loose and used up?”

Y/N’s monologue has Alex gasping for air. He’s always found her voice sexy, and when she paints these pictures for him, how can he not fall straight in and give himself up to the pleasure she’s promising?

“Wanna get you a cock that’s so big I can see it inside you.” Y/N runs her hand over his stomach, through the sticky mess he’s leaking over his happy trail. “Wanna see it right here, punching up inside you, filling you up so good.” Alex groans, pushing up into her hand and pushing his hips back onto her cock. “That’s it baby, fuck yourself for me, good boy.”

Alex is starting to get dizzy. The physical exertion and the immense pleasure and the tinge of pain and lack of hard on to channel everything into has him thrown off, and achingly desperate – obviously just how Y/N wants him. Then, without warning, the pressure on his cock disappears and it fills so rapidly it’s painful and without the chance to even think about asking for permission he’s cumming in long pulses, shooting up his chest and onto his lips and his chin. He thinks he screamed but he can’t be sure and then everything goes orange and red and splotchy, and then white.

Alex blinks awake in the semi-dark, the blue glow of Y/N’s laptop illuminating her baggy t-shirt and messy hair as she sits up in bed reading. It takes him a moment to orient himself, to remember how to move his fingers and toes but he finally manages to drag himself closer to Y/N.

“Hey there, sleepy head,” she grins down at him, and reaches out to stroke his hair off his forehead. “How are you feeling?”

“Completely dead,” Alex breathes. “In a good way,” he adds when he catches the tinge of worry flit across Y/N’s face. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, baby boy,” Y/N leans down and brushes his lips in a soft kiss. “So, you want to do that again?”

“Absolutely,” Alex sighs, snuggling into Y/N’s side and wrapping his arms around her like a teddy bear.

“Good,” Y/N pushes away her laptop and settles into the cuddle, curling up in Alex’s arms like a happy little spoon. “Because I’ve got some ideas.”

Enjoy my work? Consider supporting me by subscribing to my WordPress Blog!

We’re All Mads Here: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @austin-winchester67 @flamencodiva

All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @slamminmine @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @eddiesgirl @raidens-realm @delightfullykrispypeach @05supernatural20

[icylook]

I will see you again

Pairing: Leon x Leri (MC)

Rating: Mature; Word count: 1655; Read on AO3

Tags: Spoilers for the AMR demo; Not canon compliant - Leon and Leri (MC) started their relationship half a year before the final battle; Established Relationship; Angst and Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Feels; Implied Smut

A Mage Reborn demo 👑 ✨ @mage-parivir

The sound of his footsteps echoes in the hall, torches illuminating the space. All the guards he passes by either nod their heads at him or don’t react at all to his presence, avoiding eye contact. He pays them no mind, answering the subtle greetings with a small tilt of his chin now and then. There are two guards at the door Leri goes for. They shift slightly when he nears but don’t stop him when he knocks lightly, muted murmur of conversation behind wooden door disrupted with strong “Come in”.

He doesn’t hesitate stepping in, leaving the door open so the one talking with Leon would have a clear message of his intentions - your time with the Prince is over, now leave. Especially when the person is Ante, standing in the middle of the sitting room. Light armor on, all in black and the scowl on her face is like a lightning - there and gone - when she sees him.

“Your Highness, please reconsider-” 

“No. And it’s final.” Leon’s stern expression clears when he turns to look at him. “Took you long enough. I thought you'd gone missing.”

Leri ignores Ante, as they agreed all this time ago in the clearing during the rebellion. She was doing her job, observing him closely from the shadows. He was doing his job, making sure they all came out of the mess alive. They had a mutual agreement of not stepping on each other's toes if possible. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t rile her up now and then with his behaviour.

“Saine got a tip about lemon muffins in kitchens. I had to check.”

Green eyes brighten in a hopeful spark. “Did you bring me some?”  

“Should I?” Leri asks playfully, twisting his wrist in a lazy display of magic, summoning one of his pocket dimensions with a small crystal attached to his ring. The enchantment appears in wisps of purplish smoke, revealing a pastry in pristine condition sitting on his palm. When Leon reaches for it, he steps back with a tut. 

“Where are your manners, Your Highness?” His smirk widens when Leon’s confusion slips with a flash of want when he purposely lowers his voice and adds, “Say please.” 

Leon opens his mouth to response when someone clears their throat. Pointedly. Leri glances at Ante staring daggers at him, before her eyes meet Leon’s. 

The tips of his ears redden a little. “Thank you, Ante. Dismissed.” Ante’s back straightens so impossibly fast when she salutes him, Leri is silently amazed it doesn’t crack. 

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Leri dips his head at her with one word goodbye. “Spymaster.”

“Royal retainer.” 

The corners of his lips curl upward at the spite veiled in her carefully neutral tone. She looks at him for a few long seconds, her gaze piercing. Only when he doesn’t falter in his amusement she marches past him, mindful of leaving space so as not to touch him.

“Let me guess, she wanted you to approve sending people after me.” He says after the door closes with a click. Leon’s by him now, gentle fingers seizing the wrist with muffin holding hand. His other hand rests on the belt over Leri’s hip, steering him to lean on Leon’s side. He smiles at his not so sneaky attempt at getting the pastry via distraction. He humors Leon into thinking that it’s working, tilting his head closer to his neck to get a whiff of his clean scent. Rich and comforting.

Leon hums in affirmation. 

“She’ll probably do it anyway.” Leri murmurs. 

“No she won’t.” Leon prepares to take a bite of the pastry, hand carefully holding his own in place. Leri watches as Leon closes his eyes, savouring the cream with bits of sour fruit. Mesmerized by the up close view of pink tongue chasing the taste as he swallows a bite. Half a muffin is gone in a blink and he huffs a laugh.

“I guess some of them were right.” Leon’s brow goes up in silent question. “The Sun Prince is eating straight from my palm.”

He smiles widely before he leans in. “I guess he does.” Their lips meet, softly and slowly. Hints of sweetness sneak into the kiss, mingling with the taste of the pastry Leon just devoured. Leri closes his eyes, nuzzling into the palm that cups his cheek when they part. The roughness of Leon’s skin on his face is a reminder of what they went through. Every callous and scar on his hands is a memento he wants to cherish as long as Leon lets him. He tilts his head to the side until his mouth brushes the middle of Leon’s hand, golden eyes holding intense green.

“You really depart tomorrow.”

Leri nods.

“Anything I can do to convince you to postpone that until the coronation?” Leon’s smile is endearingly sheepish, like he clearly knows the answer but still tries anyway. His brave, stubborn man. 

Guilt twists in his gut. He wants to tell him. Tried to, many times, testing the boundaries of the spell. Choking on words even before his thoughts formulated properly into them, the invisible collar tightening with unnatural force. Its ominous weight sitting at his throat, a reminder of the time wasting away like sand in an hourglass. Grain by grain, closer to their end. 

Once, alone in his chambers, he took it too far when attempting to speak of what he knew, of the great danger hovering over the kingdom. The collar throttled him until he lost his breath, on the brink of consciousness. He fell to the floor, blinking through the tears, black spots dancing in his vision with whispers of blood frantically pounding in his head. Clawing at his neck, curled on the cold stone. Desperate for air as his lungs burned painfully without it. The spell is simply impervious and any knowledge about it is buried in the ruins of the place he hopes to find other answers to. He doesn’t want to, but he has to go. It’s the only way for salvation, for him and for his Sun. For the kingdom.

He can’t tell him that. 

So he crushes their mouths together again, swallowing Leon’s surprised noise. Pushing and taking, until he answers him back with the same urgency. Just like the first time ages ago - the kiss as an answer to the question he couldn’t find the right words for. But as the first clumsy kiss felt like giddiness and relief, this one is full of desperation and need. Leri wants to get closer, needs to get closer and he clings to Leon when they blindly stumble through the door to the next room. Clothes thrown without much thought to the floor, marking their hurried way to the bed.

Leon lets himself be pushed onto his back, Leri crawling over him. He runs his hands through the long ashy strands of Leri’s hair, sighing when their lips meet. 

They don’t leave the bed until much later.

/////

Leri’s standing near the high window overlooking palace gardens in Leon’s bedroom. Now barely seen because of the night’s darkness.

“I wish you’d stay.”

Leon is only a bit taller than Leri, loose trousers low on his hips. He can openly admire the expanse of his uncovered skin and the marks he left on his body because Leri stole his shirt. And it’s the only thing he’s wearing at the moment. 

With arms wrapped around him, the height difference is nonexisting. It’s easy to meet his gaze when he leans back to peer at his face. His eyes meet emeralds, full of warmth and longing. Leri’s fingers gently trace the pale line of a small scar hidden with the hair at Leon’s temple. Evidence of one of too many close calls during the war. 

“Leon.” I wish to stay too. I don’t want to let you go, not after everything. 

“I will see you again.” The words taste like lies, spilling easily like ones. But they hold the truth, one he wants to believe in. Something hot pokes at the back of his eyes so suddenly, he quickly covers it with exaggerated sniff. 

“Besides, I can’t let any of those stuffy nobles take away my rightful position, can I?” His smile feels a little bit too wide. A little bit too forced but he holds it on, just to see the sadness clear from Leon’s expression.

“So I should hold it open for you then?”

“Hold and defend it. Because I’ll be back for it.”

Leon snorts a laugh, hiding it in Leri’s hair. “I feel like it’ll be a battle worse than everything else so far.” He shifts his hands on him, resting them at the small of his back. 

“I expect compensation.” Leon adds playfully, murmuring the words on the skin of Leri’s forehead. His lips feel like a brand when he presses a long kiss to it and Leri has to squeeze his eyes shut to keep his tears at bay. The tenderness of the gesture digs up the storm of emotions he desperately tries to shut down. A prick of sorrow grips at his throat unexpectedly and he can’t hide the shaky exhale in time before Leon notices.

Because Leon does notice, his body stiffening when Leri starts shaking in his arms.

“What’s wrong-” He doesn’t let him finish, doesn’t want Leon to see him like this. Not now, not when the dread starts to rear its ugly head again to cloud his mind. But he doesn’t hide, because it’s useless with Leon. Even if he wants to. So he leans back, his sight a little blurry. His smile’s wet around the corners but it’s more real.

“I will see you again.”

Leon’s lips part, any words stuck to his tongue. Then his face brightens with a smile of his own, eyes shining with unshed tears. 

“I know. I’ll be waiting.”

And Leri will do everything to keep his promise.

Everything.

[ibelongtowrath]

Put You To Sleep - Leviathan x Reader (Obey Me!)

A/N: You’re tired and can’t fall asleep, so shower sex with Levi ensues and he uses his tail. Welcome to Tail Fuckers United. I finished this at like 2am so I hope it makes sense lmao Prompt: “If you can’t sleep, why don’t we have sex?” Pairing: Leviathan x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.9k Tags/warnings: 18+/NSFW, vaginal sex, anal sex, fingering, double penetration, tail sex. NSFW under the cut!

Ugh. How many hours has it been now since I went to bed?

Rolling over slowly as to not wake the sleeping demon curled up beside you, his arm wrapped around your waist, you reach for your D.D.D on the nightstand. The screen wakes as you raise it, searing bright light practically scorching your eyes in the otherwise inky darkness of the room.

Placing the phone back face-down, you close your eyes and exhale slowly, willing yourself to succumb to sleep. Come on, come on, we have classes tomorrow…but, more time passes, and your body refuses to be overcome with sleep.

With a slight groan, you lift Levi’s arm from around you, placing it down gently on the bed before rising and padding slowly over to the bathroom. You pause before walking in to turn your head and admire the Avatar of Envy’s peaceful, still-sleeping form; mouth slightly open, a tiny snore emanating from his lips. 

A soft smile, paired with a look of utter adoration paints your face before turning back to enter the bathroom, shedding your clothes to toss into the hamper. Perhaps a nice, long shower will help lull you to sleep, though it may be pointless - it is nearly early morning, and you will have to be awake for breakfast in a matter of mere hours. Well, it’s worth a try, isn’t it?

You open the door to the shower, turning the knob until the swish! sound of the water pouring through, a few warm droplets coating your arm. While you wait for the water to heat (surprisingly, it takes a while for the water to reach optimal hot shower temperature, even in the literal depths of Hell), you stride over to the vanity and lean over, gripping the sides with each hand. 

You raise your head slowly to stare at yourself in the reflection of the mirror, groaning when your gaze lands on the lines forming beneath your eyes; a clear indicator of lack of sleep, and you know Asmo will be pointing it out at breakfast. You close your eyes, resting your head in your hand for a few brief seconds.

It was hard to believe that one of those rare sleepless nights has come back to haunt you. Having occurred much more frequently when you first arrived in the Devildom during your adjustment period, they had graciously begun to subside as you found your routine.

A deep sigh escapes your lips before slowly turning back towards the shower, grateful to feel wisps of warm steam lightly caress your face, the feeling of it already beginning to melt your tension. Another slightly more contented exhale leaves you as you reach to open the shower door, eager to step in and let the water cascade over your tired body before a set of arms wrapping around your waist halts your movements and you startle.

“What-” you breathe, heart racing.

“You’re going to take a shower and didn’t think to invite me, princess?” a familiar voice murmurs behind you, placing a soft kiss into the top of your head. “Tsk, tsk.”

“Fucking hell, Levi, don’t scare me like that. I thought you were asleep.” You pull his arms off of you, turning around to shoot him a look.

“Aw, don’t look at me like that. I was until I heard the siren song of the shower, knowing you were about to get in, no clothes on…,” Levi murmurs, a smirk upturning the corner of his lips.

“Yeah, well,” you huff, shaking your head, “I haven’t been able to fall asleep. I thought maybe a nice, relaxing shower might help…”

Levi chuckles, kissing your head again. Making quick work of shedding his clothes, you watch as he shifts into his demon form, snakelike tail reaching up to caress your cheek. You swallow, pressing your legs together. He knows damn well that tail...and he… is your weakness. He smirks wider, noticing that lustful, glazed-over look in your eyes when you’re turned on. 

“Well, if you can’t sleep,” he purrs, nodding towards the shower, “why don’t we have sex?”

“Did you miss the part where I said ‘relaxing’ shower?” you retort, though it lacks in bite, and Levi knows it.

He snakes his tail down to your legs, gliding it tantalizingly slow between your wet folds, eliciting an excited, breathy moan as your teeth bite into your lip. Goddamn it.

Sleep? Who gives a damn about sleep right now?

“Levi…”

You say the Avatar of Envy’s name in a breathy moan, desperation and utter need laced into each syllable. The demon continues his work, stroking his tail back and forth between your legs; eyes trained on yours, watching your blissed-out expression with a wicked grin. A few moments later, he pulls his tail from you, admiring the way it glistens in the bathroom lights, coated with your arousal. You whimper at the loss and his cock twitches, eager to bury himself inside your slick, constricting warmth.

“Come on, princess,” Levi husks, his desire evident. “Let’s not waste any precious water.”

You grin and nod, turning to open the shower door and stepping inside, followed closely by Levi. 

“That would be a shame,” you agree, raising an eyebrow. “Can’t have that.”

Stepping under the rainfall showerhead, the water drenches your body in mere seconds. Levi watches, entranced as tiny droplets travel down your lithe body, cascading sensually over every curve of your waist, hips, and delicious thighs before pooling beneath your feet and swirling down the drain. You look ethereal; a wet, erotic vision: steam floating around your nude body, wet hair sticking to your shoulders, eyes closed in bliss, lips slightly parted.

He wastes no time, crossing over to you and pressing your back to the cool tiled wall. His lips find yours, tongue begging entrance between your soft, parted lips, rolling over your own in a fevered dance, each passing moment making the movements hungrier, more fervent. A low moan elicits from his mouth into yours, his hands reaching to trace over the generous curve of your hips, moving up to your waist before settling on the soft, supple mounds of your breasts.

“I’ll help you fall asleep, princess,” the Avatar of Envy coos against your wet skin.

Levi pulls away from the kiss, catching your bottom lip with his teeth and nibbling as he pulls back. He massages your breasts, thumbs circling the sensitive buds of your nipples, delighting in the lewd noise you make in response. His mouth moves to your neck, lightly nipping and sucking on the skin as he makes his way to your shoulder, traveling down to your breast.

The demon parts his lips, taking one of your nipples into his mouth as he sucks, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from you. He rolls it gently between his teeth, snaking a hand down between your legs to circle your clit with his thumb in slow, teasing strokes.

“Levi...L-Levi,” you keen, digging your nails into his back.

Levi sinks to his knees before you. He urges your legs apart with his tail, nails finding purchase in the soft skin of your thighs as they sink in. His tongue darts out to lap at your sweet desire pooling between your legs, droplets of water running in rivulets over the ample curves of your delicious body. Your hands reach forward to thread your fingers into his purple hair, soaked to a rich violet in the water. His amber eyes glisten as he flits his gaze up to yours, swallowing your essence.

“Mph…” 

The wanton moan falls from your lips, and Levi feels his cock twitch once more. He hooks your leg over his shoulder, rising slowly until your leg straightens, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance. He smirks at your whine of desperation, desire running rampant in every sound you make.

“Sing for me, princess,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue over your other nipple. “Tell me how badly you want me; I see that look in your eyes. Beg me.”

“Please, Levi, please. Fuck me,” you mewl, shakily; thoughts nearly incoherent, all feelings of sleeplessness gone, focused only on feeling him buried inside you.

“That’s a good girl…”

Levi teases his cock along your wet heat, sliding his tail up to caress your cheek. He notes the way your eyes widen at the sight of it, the way you hungrily bite your lip. Your eyes glaze over as you imagine his tail inside you, alongside his cock, working in tandem to drive you to places of ecstasy. A wicked smirk upturns at the corner of his lips, formulating a plan inside his mind.

“Slight change of plans, princess,” he purrs.

He gently lowers your leg to the floor of the shower, relishing your look of confused surprise. He tsks, clucking his tongue and shaking his head at you.

“Be patient, you little slut,” he chuckles. “Don’t worry, I fully plan on fucking you so well, you’ll fall asleep in my arms within seconds. I suppose I should say, slight change in position.”

Levi presses a soft kiss to your cheek before grabbing your shoulders and turning you around, pressing your cheek and breasts to the cool tiled wall. He runs an appreciative hand over the curve of your ass, pulling it back and placing a hard smack against it. He kisses your neck as you hiss, the sore stinging feeling quickly replaced by breathy, needy gasps.

“Levi, please, I need you-” you start to beg again, your words halted by a sharp bite into your neck.

“That’s right, you do, my needy little princess,” Levi growls into your skin. “Look at you. Keening, begging for me to have my way with you, spread open just for me. All it took was one look at my tail, and you forgot all about how tired you were, you naughty thing.”

Placing a hand on the back of your neck, he presses your face into the wall just a bit more. Biting the delicate skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder, raking his nails down your back as his tail wraps around your leg, relishing the way you shudder in anticipation. He slips his tail between your legs, sliding it over your sensitive bundle of nerves before plunging it inside you. Lewd gasps of pleasure fill the surrounding air, coupled with the stream of water pulsing from the shower as Levi pumps his tail into your dripping heat.

“Tell me,” Levi says, voice coated in velvet seduction, “how do you feel about being fucked in both holes at the same time?” 

He continues to slide his tail in and out of you, slightly increasing his pace as he awaits your answer. The thought of being so full of him, stuffed to the brim, makes you gasp as the desire etched into every cell of your body increases tenfold. You keen with frantic need, thoughts rendering completely incoherent as your brain short-circuits, only able to focus solely on the pleasure you so deliciously crave. Your back arches, urging his tail deeper inside you.

“Y-yes, fuck, yes!” 

The words spill from your lips in a breathy moan, and he smirks.

“Of course you want it, you insatiable little slut,” he chuckles. “Well, who am I to deny such a good princess?”

Levi pulls his tail from between your legs, grinning in admiration at the slick end, coated in your abundant fluid arousal. He moves a hand down to your hip, aqua nails digging into the skin, hard enough to leave marks behind before pulling it away. He teases a few fingers over your wet slit before sliding them inside you, moving and curling them a few times. You groan, pushing your hips back into him, longing coursing through every fiber of your being.

He pulls his fingers from you, both hands moving to grasp your ass. He pulls one back to crack against the soft mounds of your skin once more, smiling at the red mark left behind as he spreads you apart. A slick finger teases at your tight, puckered hole before pushing in, allowing you to adjust to the slight pressure for a few seconds; pumping in and out slowly.

 Continuing his ministrations, Levi slides his cock in your wet, constricting warmth, groaning as he buries himself to the hilt. Your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head as you sigh in satisfaction, having gained the much-needed stretch of his cock between your walls. He starts slow, rolling his hips into you, letting out his on gratified sound of pleasure as he begins to move inside you.

“You’re so tight and wet for me,” he groans.

His hips snap into yours, fucking you hard and fast. He growls; a low, rumbling sound from deep in his chest as he fucks into you. Adding a second finger to your tight hole, he scissors them, preparing you for his tail. Your jaw clenches in both desire and anticipation, more than eager to feel the demon fill you to the brim. A needy, breathy whine sounds from your lips and Levi growls once more, thrusting into you at a relentless pace. 

“You want me to fill you so badly, don’t you, my needy dirty little slut,” he rasps, words stunted in the effort of his thrusts. “So noisy, so desperate for me. Let’s fix that, shall we?”

The cadence of his hips rises to a merciless rhythm as he pulls his fingers from your ass, making quick work of sliding his tail in before you begin to feel too empty. You bite back a loud gasp, the sudden intrusion causing your muscles to clench, though only slightly; having done this before, the pressure was not painful, more so still a bit unfamiliar. Levi presses a soft kiss to your cheek, coaxing you to relax. 

As he feels your muscles loosen, he begins to pump his tail in and out of your ass at a steady pace, moving in tandem with the fierce tempo of his cock thrusting in and out of your pussy. A hand slips from its grip on your hips, sliding up your slick body, pinching a nipple along their journey to your mouth. Levi presses a few fingers to your lips, urging you to open your mouth. You oblige, sucking on his fingers, moaning as you feel so full in every orifice. 

Feeling his cock slamming into your pussy from one angle while his tail pushes against your g-spot from the other, the pleasurable sensation floods you. A scream filled to the brim with ecstasy tears from your throat, and Levi smirks, doubling his efforts to elicit another high-pitched scream; growling once more, his head dropping back, lost in the feel of your body and the sounds of your bliss. 

“That’s right, princess, scream for me,” he moans. “Scream my name. Let all my brothers be the envious ones for once. Let them know who’s making you feel so good right now.”

“F-fuck, L-Levi, I’m going to-”

I’m going to cum. 

The words are halted as your release crescendos, the world seemingly stuttering on its axis. A fire pools low in your abdomen, between your hips. Your walls grip Levi’s cock and his tail from different ends like a vice, signaling your oncoming orgasm. The demon leans forward, lips pressed to your neck as he continues to slam into you, cock and tail moving in unison to bring you to your climax.

“Cum for me, princess, let me feel how much you enjoy what I’m doing to you,” breathes Levi, moving to the side of your neck to bite at the skin. “I’ll be right behind you…”

The feel of teeth sinking into your neck pushes you over the edge, pain mixing with pleasure. Fire blazes a trail from your hips, the delicious inferno shuddering throughout your body; bliss etched into every droplet of your blood, heart pumping harder, faster, determined to feel it in every single cell of your being. Another high-pitched scream resonates from deep within you, eyes rolling into the back of your head as stars dance in your vision, more wetness gushing between your legs.

Levi’s release chases yours as you tighten around him. He spills into you, pumping his hot, white seed deep inside your core.

“Fuck, princess, you’re amazing,” he groans, pressing a soft kiss into your shoulder.

Reluctantly, Levi pulls out of you, his tail following suit. He spins you around, catching you as you collapse into him. He places a few fingers under your chin to tilt your head up towards his own: your face alight in the afterglow of orgasm, eyes closed as a soft smile pulls at the corners of your lips, steam floating around your fucked-out body.

“I...think I’m sufficiently tired now,” you mumble, opening an eye to look at him.

Levi chuckles, quickly rinsing you in the hot water before shutting it off. He picks you up, bridal style, making his way back to your bed and grabbing a towel along the way. He sets you down, gently drying you off as your eyelids flutter, struggling to stay awake. Dropping the towel in the hamper, he lays you down before climbing in behind you and pulling the covers over your bodies.

Wrapping an arm around you and pulling you to him, your back flush against his chest, Levi chuckles softly, noting the way your breathing has evened, the gentle rise and fall of your chest evidence of your slumber. He presses a kiss into the top of your head, hair damp, before settling in next to you, his own eyes closing as he nuzzles into your neck.

“I’ll fuck you to sleep every night, princess, if it helps.”

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Tracing Time

Saturday, 08:10

Song: Her - Five Minutes

The sun comes out.

It had risen hours ago with Sander, but also like him had then tucked itself away, making its ascent behind a flurry of dense clouds. Now Sander watches as the last wisps slither aside and reveal the full circle.

It hasn’t been up quite long enough to warm the concrete roof Sander sits on. He’d thought, rightly, to grab his jacket before slipping out around an hour prior, and he’s grateful for the tough leather now. He hadn’t bothered bringing his camera, so his hands are also safely tucked into his pockets. He doesn’t need any more photographs of this view than he already has.

He likes it fine like this. To just sit and see. He doesn’t need to capture it. To have it exist in this moment is enough.

Being so high up likely doesn’t help with the chill, but this is one of Sander’s favourite spots. He’d been pleased, the day one of his professors took their class to one of the older buildings in the academy and climbed the back stairs right to the top. They’d had to capture this scene that day. The sun glinting amidst the clouds, the clouds obscuring the tops of some of the area’s highest buildings, and all the life going on down below. Even now there are a few students milling around there, heading to their studios early or meeting fellow classmates, and interspersed is the honk of morning traffic, the hustle and bustle of a world just beginning to wake.

Sander is apart from all of it. The sun is slanting a ray solely for him; the beings below are tiny specks of colour splashed amidst the gray; the level of the world he’s entered is quiet, aside from the music lilting lightly in his ears.

He had been even more pleased that day to notice none of his fellow classmates had paid much attention to the roof itself, but simply focused on the task at hand. He had wondered how such a perfect place of solace wasn’t already constantly occupied, especially when it could be so easily accessed by a whole school of art students. He hadn’t thought he would be able to make it his own.

But sitting on the lip of the building, legs hung over the edge and arms resting on one of the lower bars stopping him from falling to his death, it does feel like the rooftop belongs to him and him alone. The thought is enough to bring a smile to his face.

He’s the only one seeing this right now, the only one capable of capturing this exact image at this exact time. It doesn’t—like many things do—make him feel as isolated or small as he expects. It reminds him that he has his own vision and his own mind and his own existence, and this must mean he is meant for something. This eagle-eye perspective of this universe in this exact moment is made just for him.

His smile widens as he ponders on how Robbe-like that thought is.

It’s this thought that eventually draws him away. He slides his legs back onto solid concrete and hauls himself to his feet, wincing at the twinge in his ass and brushing stone crumbs off the back of his jeans. Then he slips back through the doorway and down the stairs and begins the trek back to his number-one solace.

His feet cry out in relief as he quietly lets himself into the house and pulls off his Docs. They aren’t the best walking shoes. His feet feel achy and sweaty and he curls and rolls his toes on the wooden floor as he hangs his jacket back on his usual hook. Then he climbs another set of stairs.

He’s relieved to find Robbe exactly how he left him, only now lit in a more golden glow. The boy is curled on his side, facing the doorway Sander has just crept through, curls splayed on the pillow and mouth slightly agape. Fast asleep. Beautiful.

Sander tugs off his jumper and steps out of his jeans, then rounds the bed and crawls back in next to his boyfriend.

The sheets have chilled since he vacated them, unhelpful against his already-cold skin. He shifts towards the middle of the mattress and already feels warmer. The heat emanating from Robbe beckons him closer, and he doesn’t fight it, slipping right into the dip behind Robbe and sliding an arm over his waist, pulling the boy back against his chest. Robbe moves easily, snuggling back into Sander with a sigh, and Sander’s whole body blooms with heat.

As much as he likes his rooftop, there’s no doubt that this is his favourite place to be. ‘This’ being anywhere within Robbe’s orbit.

He doesn’t quite drift off again, but his body goes pleasantly lax and his mind quiets. The longer he listens to Robbe’s soft breaths the more his own heart eases.

Then Robbe starts to shift, and Sander worries he’s woken him. He wriggles in Sander’s arms and Sander loosens his grip, but Robbe simply rolls over in his embrace, turning to face him and immediately curling towards his chest. Sander’s lips turn up in a smile as he draws him in, pressing his nose to Robbe’s soft curls and inhaling slowly. Robbe’s arm curls over his waist, tucking around his back and denting his skin.

He traces patterns over Robbe’s bare shoulder in the few minutes it takes for Robbe to stir again. His grip tightens on Sander for a second as his eyes scrunch, refusing to succumb to the sunlight as he presses closer to Sander’s chest.

Sander presses a kiss to the top of his head as he lets out a tiny, whiny hum, still half-asleep as he stretches his toes against Sander’s ankles and blinks.

Robbe’s doe eyes, even while squinty and crusted with sleep, are the most mesmerizing things he’s ever seen. The corners of them crinkle as Robbe leans back far enough to smile up at him before burying his face back in the crook of Sander’s neck. “Morning,” he mumbles. Then he kisses the closest patch of Sander’s skin.

Sander hugs him tight and returns, “Morning. Sleep well?”

Robbe hums again. “Wha’ time is it?”

“I don’t know. Still before nine, I think.”

“Okay,” Robbe sighs, giving him a squeeze. “We still have some time then.” After a pause, he pulls away from Sander again and looks up at him curiously. “Did you go out? You’re cold.”

This last bit comes out as a whine, and Sander huffs. “Yeah. Just for a walk.”

Robbe hums, smiling as he snuggles back into him again, pushing Sander onto his back so he can sprawl out over his chest and lock their arms together. “Taking photos?”

“No. Didn’t take my camera or anything.”

“But you took your phone, right?”

“Of course, I needed music.”

Robbe huffs, but accepts this response without further questions, leaving a smiling kiss on Sander’s chest. He repeats the motion, then starts up a lazy trail, mapping his way across Sander’s collarbone until Sander tugs his hair. Robbe tilts his head up and lets Sander connect their lips, shifting up on the bed and pressing a hand to Sander’s cheek. Sander’s hand moves to cup the back of Robbe’s head, fingers tangling in his curls and drawing him closer. Robbe’s hand moves up his chest to settle in the crook of his neck and he feels suddenly warm.

He skims a hand down Robbe’s back, tracing the divots and dents of his spine, breathing slow under Robbe’s lazy kisses. He palms at Robbe’s hip, and Robbe quickly takes the hint, lifting his leg over Sander’s and settling atop him before letting out a happy hum.

“Good morning,” he says, amused and cheeky, and Sander bites his lip in retaliation.

Robbe giggles and Sander swallows the sound down, tucks it away in the lower part of his chest to be dug up later. He has made up a whole portfolio of these precious sounds, along with a plethora of the most stunning images and a sad imitation of Robbe’s touch. It’s hard to beat the real thing.

Sander soaks up as much of it as he can now and still begs for more, splaying one hand over shoulder-blades and letting the other slide down, curling over the curve of Robbe’s bottom, drawing him down while tilting his own hips up. Now Robbe’s hum is lower, coming from a more guttural place as he bears down on his own, only requiring that initial permission.

He breaks away to gaze down at Sander, tracing light fingertips over his face as he breathes heavily. Sander smooths his hand back up the line of Robbe’s back to tangle both in his hair. This time he makes his way along Robbe’s cheek, feathering kisses against the stubbly skin until he can brush his lips against the shell of Robbe’s ear and nip at the lobe, free of his earring for the moment. Robbe makes a small, mewling noise and tightens his grip on Sander’s shoulders.

“What time are you leaving?” Sander asks, keeping his voice at a murmur so as not to spoil the mood entirely.

“Jens is meeting me here around ten.”

Sander groans. “You can’t make that ten-thirty?”

Robbe huffs gently. He places his hands on Sander’s chest and pushes himself up to sitting, still astride Sander’s hips. Sander would be more upset with the new lack of contact if it didn’t give him such a nice view; Robbe is all clean-cut lines and lean muscle, with skin glowy and soft under Sander’s fingers. “Jens wanted to be gone yesterday,” Robbe reminds him, not unkindly.

“Why didn’t he just go with Lucas, then?”

“Because he agreed to wait around so I could spend the night with you.” Robbe raises his brows. At Sander’s permanent pout, he huffs again, shaking his head. “You can still come with, you know. We’re going to get a break before the end of school. Couldn’t you do with a break, too?”

Sander groans again and pulls Robbe’s pillow over his face. “I can’t,” he moans. “This project is due on Monday. Unless I stayed up all night tomorrow, I wouldn’t have time to finish it.”

Robbe hums. “You’re usually the one begging me to keep you up all night.”

Sander gives him a sour look, even as his stomach flutters.

“I’m sorry,” Robbe laughs. “I really am. But you know Lucas never asks for anything.”

“And you want to go.”

Robbe hesitates, but he never lies to Sander. He gives a tiny nod and an apologetic smile. “I do. And Jens really needs it.”

Sander considers him for a moment, the lovely curve of his lips and the gentle doe-eyes, and blows out a sigh. “You deserve it,” he says softly. He gives Robbe’s ear a tug and allows himself to smile. “And I suppose I’ll survive.”

It only takes Robbe’s grin to prove he’s done the right thing. Robbe leans down to leave him a kiss, light but lingering, and then turns it into a dozen different pecks instead. “You better. Thank you.”

Sander can only lie there and accept the onslaught of affection, laughing as he settles his hands on Robbe’s thighs and squeezes. He meant what he said—Robbe does deserve it. They hadn’t managed to get away over the break as initially planned, so when Lucas invited them back to Utrecht this weekend they had jumped on the offer. Sander had shared the excitement initially, but then had quickly been reminded of his reality, in which he had stupidly chosen to leave things to the last minute.

“I feel more sorry for you, anyway,” Sander mumbles, emitting a low whistle. “I’ll be alone, but at least I’ll have a quiet night.”

Robbe immediately pushes himself up again, wide-eyed. “No. We’re staying at Lucas’s house, with his mom. Surely they won’t…”

Sander snorts, waving at the space around them and raising a brow. “Where are we right now, Robbe?” At Robbe’s blush, he purses his lips together, making his own eyes big in suggestion. “It is a stress-relief getaway.”

Robbe buries his face in his hands and groans. He rolls off of Sander even as the elder protests, peeking through his hands to stare up at the ceiling. “I’m going to come home traumatised. It’ll be worse than the time I walked in on him and Jana.”

“Not if you don’t walk in on them,” Sander laughs. Seconds later, a pillow smacks him in the face. He makes a muffled protest as he’s attacked again, grabbing at the soft material and wrestling it out of Robbe’s grip to whack him back, hearing Robbe make an ‘oof’ sound before breaking out into giggles.

Eventually, Sander tosses the pillow aside and wrestles Robbe instead, getting him flat on his back and moving over him. He slots a leg between Robbe’s and presses their tangled hands down either side of Robbe’s head, and Robbe’s eyelids droop. Then his fingers flex around Sander’s as his lips part. His neck strains as his head tilts up. Sander ducks down, but forgoes Robbe’s lips to lick a stripe up his neck.

“Sander,” Robbe whines, squirming underneath him in protest even as he lets out a breathy laugh.

“What?”

“We haven’t got long.”

Sander hums, pulling the patch of skin he’d been kissing between his teeth to hear Robbe gasp. “We’d have longer if you were going to stay.”

“Sander,” Robbe repeats, this time in sullen protest.

“Sorry, sorry,” Sander soothes. “We still have enough time though, don’t we?”

“Did you hear my mom when you got back?”

“Nope. I assume she’s still sound asleep.”

Robbe smiles at that, pleased, and Sander finally grants him a kiss, slow and sensual until Robbe makes a needy little sound and squeezes his hands. Sander releases his hands and Robbe immediately tangles them in his hair, tugging at the strands.

“How many minutes do we have to make up for?” Sander asks him.

“Too many to waste time calculating now. We just have enough time to make sure you don’t forget me while I’m gone.” Robbe winks at him, and Sander huffs and goes in for another kiss, but Robbe is already moving. Sander half expects to be rolled over again, but instead Robbe just shimmies down, licking and biting his own way along Sander’s neck before heading lower.

Sander’s arms tremble with the effort of keeping himself up when Robbe’s lips close around his nipple. He draws his pillow over to bury his face in it as Robbe works a mark into his chest, rolling the opposite nipple under his thumb. Once he’s pleased with his work and Sander’s mumbling his name, he makes his way further south.

The following minutes are quite memorable indeed.

~^~

next

[zukoszukhoes]

Don’t Speak- Part 3

Zuko x reader soulmate au

// warnings: violence and death

// read part 1 and part 2

"Get up." A voice snapped you out of your dreams. "Get up!" The voice yanked your covers off of you. "Get dressed, and quickly."

"Why?" You frowned, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"Because," your mother said, throwing you a ceremonial robe. "The Fire Lord has requested your presence at the palace."

~~~

The carriage ride to the palace was... uncomfortable, to say the least.

Zuko would never say it out loud, but he was desperate for you to forgive him. Now that his father had requested to meet you- his son's soulmate- he was terrified of putting you off even more. His father was imposing and cruel, and Zuko knew it. He knew that seeing his father would only reaffirm everything you hated about the Fire Nation- and him. He couldn't figure out what to say to you on the ride to the palace, so the two of you sat in silence. That is, until you noticed Zuko staring at you.

"Stop staring at me," you snapped, crossing your arms. You'd been feeling jittery all day; you couldn't stop thinking about your impending meeting with the Firelord. What would you say? What would he say?

"Sorry." Zuko cleared his throat and looked out the window. You followed his line of sight, searching for something to distract yourself from your nerves. Rolling hills and flocks of koala-sheep passed by as the carriage bumbled along. Looking at the fields, you could forget for a moment who you were and where you were going.

"We're going to have to stop for the night," Zuko murmured absentmindedly, looking out at the setting sun. "I'll ask the driver to pull over."

"Pull over? Is there an inn nearby?" You frowned.

"We can't stay in an inn. It's too exposed. We'll set up our own campsite where it'll be easier for the guards to watch us."

Your face paled. "A campsite?'

Zuko smirked, raising an eyebrow. "What, you can't handle a little camping?"

You were the child of a government official with your own estate. You had never been camping in your life!

"Of course I can handle camping!" You lied. "I was just surprised that the crown prince of the Fire Nation would stoop to sleeping on the ground."

Zuko glanced at you. "You're a terrible liar, you know."

You glowered and crossed your arms. "And you're short."

"Hey!" Zuko cried.

Before you could respond, the carriage jolted to a stop. The driver came to the side of the carriage and opened the door. "We're setting up camp for the night. If you would please follow me to your tents." He gestured out.

Looking at the guards setting up tents and a campfire, you frowned. It was going to be a difficult night.

~~~

Shivering in your sleeping bag, you mentally cursed Zuko for making you sleep in a tent.

Needless to say, camping was turning out to really not be your thing.

First of all, it was freezing. You hadn't packed your cloak because it was summer- in the Fire Nation- and you'd naturally assumed you wouldn't need it. Then, Zuko had made fun of you because of said lack of coat, and you couldn't think of anything to make fun of him for. And lastly, your servants had forgotten to pack an extra tent, so you had to share with Zuko.

"Can you please stop moving so much?" Zuko grumbled suddenly, his voice heavy with sleep.

"I'm cold. Maybe I'd be able to fall asleep if you'd bothered to bring any extra blankets," You groused, curling up tighter in your sleeping bag.

"Maybe if you'd remembered to bring your cloak you wouldn't be so cold," Zuko retorted.

"It's the middle of summer!"

"So that means I'm responsible for reminding you it gets cold at night?"

You glowered at the darkness, annoyed that you couldn't think of anything to say in response. Zuko let out a sigh, and before you knew what was happening, an arm was around you pulling you back into a warm chest.

You lurched up, pushing the chest away. "What are you doing?" You hissed, glaring daggers at Zuko. Zuko reached up and grabbed your wrist, tugging you back into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you until you were fully encased- and totally stuck. You went rigid, your heartbeat skyrocketing at the proximity.

"You said you were cold," Zuko replied bluntly.

"Oh," you squeaked out, your cheeks going red. You certainly were feeling warmer; Zuko's body was like a furnace, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth. You breathed in deeply, succumbing to his scent of cardamom and smoke. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Zuko murmured, his lips brushing your hair lightly. Tingles raced down your spine at the contact.

"Zuko?' You whispered quietly.

"Hmm?" Zuko hummed, already falling back asleep.

"Why are you being so nice to me?"

"Because," Zuko yawned. "I'm going to make things right between us."

You chuckled. "Is that so?"

Zuko nodded, bumping his nose against your forehead. "It is."

For a moment, you laid in Zuko's arms, letting his words sink in. Somehow, it was both infuriating and charming that Zuko was so determined to make things right with you- no matter how futile it may be. But, knowing what you did about Zuko, you couldn't say you were surprised; determination was in his blood.

"Zuko? Are you still awake?" You whispered.

You were met with nothing except for the quiet wisps of Zuko's breath over your face. With a quiet sigh, you settled in Zuko's grip. Before you knew it, fatigue pulled you into a deep cardomom-smoke-scented dream.

~~~

After being woken up the next morning by a very flustered guard, you journeyed for three more hours until you approached the imperial city. By the time you reached the palace, you were less concerned with meeting the Firelord and more concerned with getting something to eat. After 3 hours in a carriage, you were starving. But before you had the chance to get something to eat, a fire sage latched onto you and began to pull you towards the throne room.

"Come. There is no time to waste. The Firelord wants to see you immediately." He said, tugging you towards the inside of the palace.

Zuko's hand fell on the Fire Sage's wrist, stopping him in his tracks. "It's been a long journey. I'm sure my father can wait until y/n has had something to eat," Zuko said sternly.

The Fire Sage tightened his grip on your arm, looking at Zuko sternly. "The Firelord demands Mr/Miss L/n's presence."

Zuko glared back, tightening his grip on the sage's arm. "I already told you, y/n is hungry-"

"I'll meet with the Firelord." You cut Zuko off, giving him a pointed look. "There will be plenty of time to eat afterwards."

Zuko glowered at the Fire Sage, but let you leave nonetheless. The Fire Sage smirked and turned, beckoning you down the hallway. "Come. The Firelord does not tolerate tardiness."

Zuko shot you a worried glance, but you were already flanked by two guards, being ushered down the hall towards the throne room. You pushed your shoulders back, hoping to project an air of confidence. Everyone seemed terrified of the Firelord, but you were determined to remain composed. Really, how scary could he really be?

~~~ Very scary.

Thats how scary he could be.

You knelt before the Firelord's throne, sweat beading your brow from the inferno  blazing between yourself and the throne. Every breath you took seemed to echo painfully loud in the large throne room, which held nothing to dampen your sounds besides the large golden columns supporting the roof. There were no lights except for the Firelord's own fire, which burned so bright and high that you couldn't make out any of his features except for the whites of his eyes, narrowed and hardened as they inspected you. A shiver raced down your spine.

"So," the Firelord began, his voice a slow drawl. "This is my son's soulmate?" He paused for a moment, seeming to inspect you up and down. "I've heard quite a bit about you. Specifically, about your hatred of the Fire Nation. What's your name, traitor?"

A bead of sweat slipped down the back of your neck. "Y/n L/n," you replied, making sure to keep your voice even.

"Y/n L/n," Ozai repeated, your name sliding off of his tongue with a sneer. "Quite frankly, I'm unimpressed. Tell me, y/n, what makes you think you deserve to be here? Considering your past, I should have you banished for treason."

"I don't control fate, Firelord Ozai. I just follow it." The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

The fire in front of the throne spiked. "You would do well to watch your tongue, child. Don't you know who you're speaking to?"

"I was only trying to say-"

"Silence!" The Firelord boomed, cutting you off. "I can see why you and my son are a match. You are both incapable of showing basic respect." He glared down at you, the flames burning so high they almost touched the ceiling. "I will not stand for this! I brought you here to see if you would be a good match for my son. But clearly you would only bring shame and humiliation to the Fire Nation were you ever to enter this family."

Your chest burned with anger. How dare he insult you like that? "I was never planning on joining the royal family, Your Highness-"

"Be quiet!" He snapped. "You have shown me nothing but disrespect since your arrival. First you refuse to meet with me, and now you disobey me! You're lucky I don't kill you where you stand." He leaned forward. "Because you are Prince Zuko's soulmate, I will spare you- but not without conditions. You will leave the palace immediately. And if you ever speak to my son again, I will not spare you a second time."

Your hands shook with anger. Ozai may have been the Firelord, but he had no right to tell you or Zuko who to love or what to do. You may not have wanted to be with Zuko, but you wouldn't stand by while he manipulated his own son's life.

"With all due respect, Firelord Ozai," you replied, blood boiling in your veins. "Your son wants me here. So I won't be leaving. Not until Zuko tells me to go. I appreciate your mercy, but Zuko is not a child- he doesn't need you deciding what is best for him anymore."

The Firelord gripped the sides of his throne so hard his knuckles turned white. His hands burned red with anger, heating up until the metal beneath them melted away. "Get out of my sight!" He roared.

You stood up and scurried out of the room as fast as you could, Ozai's anger echoing behind you. Once you left the room, your hands started to shake as the realization of what you'd just done washed over you.

You'd disrespected the Firelord. Oh, god, you'd disrespected the Firelord!

Your heart began to pound. What were you thinking? He was sure to kill you now! And what about Zuko-

You collided with a torso. A small "oof" escaped your lips and you toppled backwards, but before you could fall, a hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you back up.

"Are you alright?" Zuko's golden eyes looked down at you with concern.

Great. Zuko. Just who you wanted to see.

"I'm fine," you lied, swallowing nervously.

Zuko narrowed his eyes and dropped your wrist. "You're a terrible liar." He repeated the words from the day before, but without any humor.

You glared. "I'm not lying. I'm fine."

"What happened with my father?" Zuko asked.

A fresh jolt of fear shot down your spine at the reminder of Ozai. An image of his hatred-filled sneer flashed in your mind. "Um... it was fine..."

Zuko cocked an eyebrow. "What did he say?"

"Um..." you began to sweat nervously. "He kind of told me to leave. And never come back. Or talk to you ever again."

"What?" Zuko's eyes widened.

You winced. "Look, I didn't mean for it to go the way it did, it just kind of happened-"

Zuko gripped your arm tightly. "You need to leave. Now."

"What?" You blanched. "Zuko, I'm not going to let him push me around-"

"You don't understand. You just put yourself in serious danger."

"I'm not going to let myself be bullied! I don't care if he's the Firelord- I'm staying." You ripped your wrist out of Zuko's grasp and crossed your arms. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to bed. I've had a long day."

"Y/n, wait-" Zuko reached for you, but you stepped away from his touch, sending him a scowl.

"Goodnight, Zuko." You stalked off to your room, blood boiling. And although you knew staying was the right thing to do (albeit the stupid thing to do), it didn’t stop you from praying to God that your conversation with the Firelord wouldn't come to haunt you the next day.

~~~

A boom woke you up from your slumber.

You bolted upright, heart beating fast. Something was wrong. The smell of smoke filled your nostrils and guards yelled outside. You ran to the window, following the commotion, and gasped at what you saw.

Oh no.

Opposite to your room, the roof of another room was completely caved in, with smoke bellowing out of a jagged hole. A fire raged in the windows. Guards frantically tried to calm the fire, some splashing buckets of water into the smoke and others waving large blankets to try and quell the flames, but it was no use.

"Idiot!" You heard one guard roar to the ones fanning the flames. "You're only making it worse!"

"Well, what else are we supposed to do?!" The other guard retorted angrily. As if the fire was listening to them, it roared up through the hole angrily, sending the soldiers stumbling back.

Suddenly, the doors to your room burst open. Two guards rushed in, brandishing swords.

"Sifu L/n! You need to come with us immediately! You aren't safe here!" One of the guards barked.

All of the blood drained from your face. "What?"

"Quickly, there's no time to waste-" the other guard started, but before she could finish, a hand reached out from behind the door and grabbed her. The guard let out a muffled scream, desperately reaching for her weapon. But before she could retaliate, her attacker pulled out their own knife and plunged it into the guard's side. The guard immediately crumpled to the floor, crimson blood seeping out onto the tiles.

You cried out in shock, stumbling against the windowsill. Your heart began to thump frantically in your chest. The guard- someone killed her-

What is going on?

The other guard leapt for the attacker with a roar. The attacker stepped aside and quickly punched the guard in the side of his head as he landed, sending the guard sprawling onto the floor. The attacker kicked the guard in the stomach, making him grunt in pain. The attacker raised his arm with the knife, preparing to strike-

"Stop it!" You cried, rushing over before you even realized what you were doing. You grabbed the attacker's arm. The attacker whirled to you, eyes burning bright with hatred. "Leave him alone!" You yelled.

The attacker sneered. "As you wish." And before you could register what was happening, the attacker twisted his arm out of your hand, spun, and stabbed the knife directly in your gut.

A scream clawed its way out of your throat, pain instantly blossoming where the knife was. Eyes wide with shock, you fell to your knees. Sound dulled around you, replaced by the dull throb of your blood surging around the knife. You barely registered the roar of the conflict outside of your window; all you could hear was the rush of blood to your ears.

Still sneering down at you, the attacker kicked you in the chest, sending you sprawling backwards. Your back hit the ground and you let out a scream, pain flooding your senses.

The attacker looked over you, his dark eyes glinting with malicious intent. "Next time, show your Firelord some respect." He hissed.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you realized that Firelord Ozai had done this to you. He wanted you dead.

And he was going to get what he wanted.

The attacker reached down and pulled the knife from your abdomen. You let out a low moan, pain flooding your senses. The attacker raised the blood-covered knife, letting it shine in the light of the fire. "Say goodbye, Y/n L/n."

He brought his hand down, the knife headed straight for your heart-

A hand grabbed the attacker's wrist, holding it just inches away from your chest.

Zuko glared down at the attacker, eyes burning with fury. "Goodbye."

With a blast of fire, he kicked the attacker away, sending him flying across the room and into the wall. Flame shot across the room towards the attacker, the man jumping out of the way just in time before he could be burned. But Zuko was relentless, attacking the assassin again and again until he was cornered.

Zuko advanced on the attacker slowly, fire engulfing his fists. He raised his hand, preparing to strike-

The attacker punched him square in the jaw, sending Zuko tumbling back. Zuko swore, bringing his hand to his chin. The attacker ducked under Zuko's arm and ran to the door. He paused in the doorway, glancing at you. He smirked. "My work here is done." And then, as soon as he came, he was gone.

As if on cue, you coughed, blood trickling down your chin. Your legs started to tingle and the ceiling started to spin.

"Y/n!" Zuko cried. His face appeared above you, contorted with worry. He looked to your wound and went white as a sheet. "Don't worry... I'll get you help... I won't let you die!"

"Zuko..." you croaked. "It's... my fault... I'm sorry..."

"Stop. Stop it! It's not your fault. You're going to be fine!" He said, but the panic in his eyes betrayed his true feelings.

You reached out and grabbed his hand. Even if you were still dying, Zuko had saved you. Lying on the floor, knowing your life was in danger, you had a moment of clarity.

It was true that Zuko had done many bad things. But he'd helped you when you were in your hour of need. You could see now that you’d been judging Zuko two-dimensionally- seeing only his pain, and not his heart underneath. Looking into Zuko’s golden eyes, seeing his bright spirit and honorable soul, you realized you’d been wrong about him. Zuko wasn't a bad person; He was a good man. 

And another realization hit you: you didn't want to die without telling your soulmate that.

"Zuko... I... forgive you..." you rasped. "For everything..."

Zuko shook his head. "Stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for. I was a horrible person-"

"You are a great person," you rushed out, more blood spilling over your lips. "I'm sorry... for what I said... I'm sorry... we don't have more time together..."

Zuko shook his head furiously. "No. No. You are not dying. We're going to have more time, y/n. It's not over..." But looking into your eyes, watching the light slowly fade, he realized he was wrong.

"Sing me... a song..." you smiled, reaching up for Zuko.

A tear spilled down Zuko's cheek and he nodded silently. He began to stroke your hair softly, a broken melody spilling from his lips:

Leaves from the vine

Falling so slow

Like fragile tiny shells

Drifting in the foam

Staring into Zuko's eyes, peace washed over you. Somewhere you were aware of a fire in your belly, but it didn't matter; the feel of Zuko's fingers brushing your head and his voice in your ear took away the pain.

Little soldier boy

Come marching home

Brave soldier boy

Comes marching home

A soft sigh escaped your lips and your eyes fluttered shut. Somewhere, a voice was asking you not to go, but it was too late; you were at peace, floating down a river into darkness until nothing hurt anymore.

Taglist:

@the-resident-demon @undiadeestos @svgakookie @bucky-blogs @394pitterpatterpotter394 @sifucuteness @riespage @lovelylahey @petcrpqrker @blue-and-yellow-jjk-pjm @starstrucknature @mayalovesyou @callums-keith @emogril @tomhollandsthirdwife @la-lay @bubblebars @celamoon @imamom-makingadifference @justab-eautifulmess @thyunnamed @revemixer @snickerdoodleeee @thatpeachybandgirl @witch-of-space-jams @seducethis72 @coldlilheart @aamcqueeny @cosmicqueenieb @i-am-not-a-thot @icareabouteverythxng @saaaasib @velveteencurls @whalerus @euphoricmads @count-thotticus @minninugget @creepytoes88 @dwkwardnesshabitat @fuckofflife69 @ask-veronica-sawyer-heathers @thenutellabreadsticks @coalsmind​ @yungisseesaw​ @littleladdty​ @youtxbemusic​

[unsteadygalaxy]

all is soft inside chapter 11

a miragehound multichapter fanfiction

Also posted on Ao3, my username is the same there!

previous | next

11. one day life will be kind

Mother is soft.

They don’t know a lot of things, but they know that much. Mother is soft as she cradles them in her arms. She’s singing something sweet and soothing, and it distracts them from their tears. Why are they crying again? They don’t remember.

They look up at her with wide, shining eyes, and watch her mouth as it moves. Her braids fall over her shoulders, and their fingers grasp at them, pulling lightly. She laughs and tugs their wandering hands away, kissing their little palm.

“I love you, little one. Keep your curious heart with you always. It will serve you well.”

They’re too little to understand what she’s saying, of course, but the tenderness of her tone makes them smile and laugh. Mother is so kind and warm. And soft.

------

Father is soft. Mostly.

He tosses them gleefully in the air, and they just giggle. He catches them, of course, like he always does. Their mother looks on, caught between amusement and worry, and she cautions Johann not to drop them.

“I won’t!” he replies, smiling at her. “Brigida, my love. You worry too much.” He looks at them. “Your mother means well, little one. She just wants to protect you.”

They know their parents love them. They know they’ll always be there to protect them.

Until, of course, they aren’t.

------

Artur is not soft.

His hands are rough and scarred and cracked from how dry the air is, and they pass uncomfortably against their knee as he bandages their bleeding wound. They wish Mother was here. Her hands were always soft, made so by the lotion she spread between her palms each morning. But Mother is gone now. She’s resting under the ground, like Amma and Afi. And Father.

“Okay,” Artur says gruffly. “No more bleeding. Better now?”

They nod, their tears smearing across their arm as they wipe their eyes. 

“Good. Be strong, young one. Save your tears.”

He stands up and pats their head, leaving them alone on the porch. The pain in their knee stings, but it soon subsides to a dull ache. They run across the meadow to lay in the grass, running their fingers through the long green blades. The grass is cool and soothing. And soft.

------

Sigrid is only soft when she’s not teaching them how to throw an axe.

“Again!” she commands, but there’s a glint of fierce pride in her eyes. They run to the target and pick up the axe from where it had fallen and scurry back to the mark.

“Feel the weight of it in your hand, young one. Balance it, and breathe deep…”

They follow her instructions carefully, aiming for the center of the target. They suck air into their lungs, raise the axe, and throw as hard as they can, a small grunt leaving their chest.

The axe embeds itself into the target, just barely off center.

Sigrid smiles. The lines around her eyes soften. 

------

Some of the villagers are soft, afterwards. And some are not.

They know it’s not their fault. Their brain knows it, but their heart can’t keep up. After all, they had failed to obey Artur in the first place, and he was dead because of that. 

He was dead because of them. And the villagers knew it.

“Take responsibility for your actions,” one of them says, seething at them. “You will forever be in the Gods’ debt.”

Bloodhound had watched Artur’s funeral ship disappear over the lake. They had watched as something in Sigrid’s heart died when she looked out over the horizon. 

And years later, they watched as their aunt, too, dissolved into the water.

There weren’t many of them left after that.

------

Boone is soft. 

He often tells Bloodhound of his dreams to leave the village, to leave Talos, to become a doctor or a nurse somewhere he could properly flourish. These confessions are whispered between feverish kisses and gentle caresses in the dark- always in the dark; it’s easier that way- and Bloodhound wants to go with him.

“There are so many opportunities out there, Hound!” he gushes to them, lying bare next to them under the thick furs, his blue eyes sparkling in the darkness. “We could save people. We could help them.” He is quiet for a moment. “We could learn things that would have saved Artur.”

Bloodhound is silent every time he says that. He mentions it many times. To Boone, the IMC is that opportunity for something more. Bloodhound cannot forgive, nor can they forget that the IMC’s arrogance buried their parents under the ice.

But Boone can.

Boone turns nineteen and leaves the village, his beautiful eyes full of pain and anger.

Days later, Bloodhound also turns nineteen. They walk through the forest one last time, giving the old facility a wide berth, and no one from the village sees them for years.

------

Bloodhound very quickly finds that the universe is like a jötunn.

They’re nineteen and a half years old and sleeping on the streets.

The city is too loud. It hurts their ears and rumbles constantly and plucks at their mask with its curious eyes, demanding everything. They are not careful enough. It takes from them without mercy, shreds every bit of dignity from them without restraint, rips open their chest without any care in the world who they are or who they have been.

In a way, they’re grateful for the anonymity. They’re grateful for the trial. Every night, they offer up their pleas to the Gods to guide them and help them choose the right path. But the Allfather is no longer listening. He abandoned them the moment they left Talos.

They think they deserve it. Just a little. (Or a lot.)

Sometimes, people offer them a place to stay. They decline. They are used to huddling under doorsteps, crouching beneath benches, sleeping underneath the canopy of trees in the park. 

They miss the forest. They miss the village.

They miss Mother.

------

They are twenty and they think everything might be okay.

Ophelia smiles at them wearily, sliding them a large stack of plates to be cleaned. “Careful with these!” she always cautions. “These are the only plates this whole place has got.” Wisps of her red hair poke out from under her hairnet, and she reminds Bloodhound of Sigrid. Their heart aches in their chest.

Their hands and forearms throb from washing pots and pans all day, but they scrub each dish carefully, stacking them next to the sink. When they are done, they sigh, remove the rubber gloves, and lean against the counter. They and Ophelia talk about everything and nothing, exchanging stories and jokes as they clean up for the night. 

But Bloodhound slips on a puddle of water and crashes into the counter, sending the stack of freshly cleaned plates tumbling into the ground. The glass shatters into millions of tiny pieces, littering the floor with a minefield of shards, and George fires them on the spot.

George is not soft. Not in the slightest. But Bloodhound can’t even blame him.

------

They are twenty and a half and their whole body aches. 

“No,” they choke, clutching their chest, pressing the respirator into their face. They’re barely keeping themself off the ground, having been brought to their knees by the burning in their lungs. “No more. Please. I cannot.”

“You think that because your lungs are broken that you cannot master the blade?” Huizhen barks, pointing one of the dao swords directly in their face. “You are wrong, young one, as you often are. It is not your lungs that limit you.”

Bloodhound wants to scream, to yell, to rage against his expectations, but this language is firm and unyielding, and their tongue cannot form the words.

Huizhen sighs and offers them a hand. At least he is soft, sometimes.

------

They are twenty-two and Kwan’s knee presses uncomfortably into their chest. 

“Please,” they gasp, trying to wrench her off of them, feeling the impact of her blows all across their body. “I am done, please, get off-”

“No, you are not done,” she says sternly, the line of her mouth thin and severe. Bloodhound struggles against her grip, their hands scrabbling against her knee. “You are not done until your Gods will it. Do you wish to betray your Gods, child?”

“No, never-”

“Good.” She lifts her knee and stands, leaving them gasping on the ground, massaging their ribs in anguish. “Honor them. Beg for their forgiveness and bring them glory. You are capable of so much more than this.”

Kwan’s eyes are hard, critical, pitying. She shakes her head at them and walks away. 

------

They are twenty-five and they want nothing more than to go back home to Talos. 

A fist connects with their chest, and their breath exits their lungs in a thorough whoosh. The impact knocks them back a little, and they stumble over their own feet, trying to stay upright. Another fist comes flying at their face, and they dodge it just barely. Bloodhound ducks and jabs their fist up into the man’s stomach, but he barely even flinches. He sends a fist into their gut, and another into their jaw, and they fly backwards, hitting the ground hard.

They feel the mask break around their face, and they panic, trying to press the pieces back together. But their hands are shaking and their breathing won’t settle, and their lungs burn horribly with exertion and shame. The mask falls fully to the ground, and a thousand pairs of eyes bore holes into their face.

“A face only a mother could love, that is!” a spectator jeers, as someone plops a wad of bills into his outstretched hand.

“Poor ugly bastard, no one would want a face like that,” another laughs, throwing a crumpled up piece of paper into the ring. The crowd begins to laugh and boo and jeer, and Bloodhound’s heart dissolves in a roaring maw of acid.

Their opponent looms above them, and they can’t do anything but stare up at him in terror. His eyes glint with a triumphant spark, and nothing about him is soft at all.

------

They are twenty-six and their money has run out.

They lurk in the shadows, waiting for some unsuspecting poor soul to wander out of the bar. A man stumbles out the door, leaning against the frame for a moment before he promptly throws up into the trash can. 

Bloodhound seizes their chance.

“Are you all right?” they ask as they approach him, trying to make their tone friendly so he’s not alarmed by the mask. It doesn’t work.

“Who’re you?” he slurs, trying to pull away from their outstretched hands.

“Do not worry. I am just going to call you a cab,” they soothe, grabbing him to hold him upright. He immediately goes slack in their arms, and Bloodhound swiftly searches his pockets for his wallet or billfold. They locate it with ease and pocket it, and they’re left feeling a strange sense of longing. 

They haven’t touched another person like this in years. Never mind that it’s not romantic. Never mind that it’s not even platonic. The pressure of this man’s body against theirs satisfies a deep ache they have been harbouring for an eternity, and they have to force themself to instantly let go of him. He stumbles blearily and collapses against the wall of the bar, groaning.

They walk away, the man’s wallet burning a hole in their pocket. 

------

They are twenty-eight and what they’re doing feels so, so wrong.

“Just hold still,” she murmurs, her soft, well-manicured hands moving down their chest and stomach to undo the belt around their waist. Bloodhound tries to relax, tries to press their head back down into the pillows and let Keres do her work. She’s beautiful, and certainly attractive, and they know that she would treat them well, but this feels so foreign, so alien. They… they don’t deserve this. Not after… everything. Panic and fear seize their chest, and flashes of memory flit across their eyes- Boone’s beautiful blue eyes locked on theirs as he moved in to kiss them; his hands on their body as they moved together; his heartbeat in their ear as they relaxed in his arms, breathing heavily-

Her fingers make quick work of their belt, button, and zipper, and she’s eagerly teasing the pants off their legs when they cry out, “Stop!” 

Keres’ lust-filled eyes wander up to theirs, and she looks irritated. Cross. “What is it?” Her voice holds no softness, only a hard frustration that Bloodhound flinches against.

“Please, just stop,” they beg, pulling their pants back up in a hurry. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done this.” They nearly kick Keres in the face in their rush, and she dodges, scoffing. 

“Fine,” she spits, sitting up straight and pushing all her gorgeous brown hair over one shoulder. “I bet you couldn’t handle me anyway.”

Bloodhound scrambles off the bed, grabs their bag, and is out the door before she can insult them any further. The moment they had refused, she had been so biting, so annoyed. Bloodhound does not think they would have enjoyed it like she thought they would.

But she could have been soft.

------

They are thirty-five and tired. So tired. 

They slide the card back across the table, fold their arms across their chest, and shake their head. “I have no need of your petty squabbles for fame and glory,” they say, their tone flat and emotionless. “I have my own path to follow, and I do not wish to disrupt it.”

Blisk shrugs. “Up to you. You know where to find me.” He pushes his chair back and stands, and then begins to walk away. But he stops, seeming to remember something, and turns. “You know, that accent of yours sounds a little familiar. Met a doctor a couple years back that sounded just like you. Wouldn’t happen to be from Talos, would you?”

Bloodhound stiffens. “No.”

“Shame.” He shrugs again, and yawns. “Knew some scientists that were there when the meltdown happened. Nasty stuff. Wonder if they might know anything about the team that died?”

Their blood turns to ice. 

They pick up the card and pocket it. “Count me in.” 

Blisk smiles. There is no softness there. “That’s what I thought.”

------

They are thirty-eight and their senses are muddled and crossed.

Bloodhound can just barely make out a couple of voices fighting, but they’re much too tired to try and figure out who they are.

“Hey, look, I’m just trying to see if they’re okay-”

“And I am telling you that their medical details are none of your business. Bloodhound’s privacy contract very clearly states that no one aside from myself or Ms. Che is allowed inside their room after matches without their express consent. You will just have to wait, Mr. Witt.”

“...Damn. You’re just as stubborn as they are.” A pause. Then, “Why do you sound just like them?”

Bloodhound’s eyes flutter, then open.

An ache immediately settles into their limbs, concentrating in their skull and neck and radiating outward to their extremities. The light from above the medical bed pierces their eyes and makes them sting, and they turn their head away in discomfort. Their head feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. Bloodhound groans a little, their hand moving to rub their eyes. Someone has removed their helmet and goggles, but they’re not afraid. They trust their doctor with their life.

The sound of quiet feet greets their ears and they look up, squinting through the bright lights above them. “What happened?” they ask in their native tongue, and their mouth is uncomfortably dry. 

“It seems that you lost.” Boone’s voice is tired, annoyed. Bloodhound’s vision clears up, and they watch as Boone scribbles on a clipboard, his blue eyes sparkling under brows furrowed in concentration. His white-blond hair is tied up in a bun, little wisps falling out at his hairline and his nape. A long-forgotten curl of fondness takes place under Bloodhound’s ribs, but they allow it to drain away, knowing they’re just high on pain medication. Their time with him has long since passed.

“And so it does. How long was I asleep?” Their voice feels brittle and drained, and they swallow to bring some moisture back. It’s difficult, but eventually their mouth no longer feels dry and sticky. “And where is Artur?”

“I sent Artur on his way. He’s fine. Not a scratch on him. It’s only been a couple hours since the end of the match.” Boone replies. He finishes writing and clicks his pen. “You’re good to go. Rig did its job. You should only have a headache for a couple hours.” Boone inclines his head toward the door, finally looking at them. “You’ve got a visitor, by the way, and he’s quite insistent upon seeing you. Keeps bothering me every time I leave the room.”

Bloodhound’s eyes wander to the door, and they spot shadows of a pair of feet passing back and forth on the other side of it. They would recognize Elliott’s anxious pacing anywhere. A smile wanders onto their face, and they forget that they do not have their goggles on to help hide their emotions. 

Boone scoffs and rolls his eyes, his jaw set. “Really, Hound? Mirage? That’s just pathetic.”

“What do you mean?” Bloodhound asks, a hint of defensiveness creeping into their heart. 

“Heartthrob of the Outlands, isn’t he? Bet he’s got a new person in his bed every other night.” Boone strides over to the whiteboard on the wall and jots down a few notes.

A strange flash of annoyance strikes Bloodhound’s chest, and their eyebrows furrow. “You don’t know that, Boone. For all you know, he could be completely inexperienced.”

Boone laughs, his face incredulous and doubting. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Houndie. Mirage, a virgin? Even you know that’s a load of shit.”

“Don’t call me Houndie,” they snap, locating their goggles to put them back on. “You know I don’t like that.”

“Oh, fine, Bloodhound,” he replies, rolling his eyes. He hands them their helmet from where it had been lying on a side table, just as they finish stretching their limbs. “Just get your things and get out of here. And if he kisses you, don’t say I told you so.”

Bloodhound’s cheeks burn fiercely, and they’re more than happy to put the helmet back on. “Him? Kiss me? You’re out of your mind, Boone.” They get up from the bed and test their balance, keeping a hand on the sheets. Their head pounds and spins just a little bit, but they breathe deep through the respirator and the spinning soon stops. “Elliott would never bother with a face like this. Besides, who said I was interested?”

“Oh, it’s Elliott now?” Boone smirks. “That familiar with him, are you?”

“Oh, hush,” Bloodhound says, already irritated with him. “Do I get anything for the pain, or must I suffer even more because of your nonsense?”

“Oh, you mean you don’t like taking an entire magazine of R-99 bullets to the head?” he says sarcastically, already starting to change the bedsheets. “Of course I’m helping you out. Top drawer, over there.” He points to the counter in the corner, and Bloodhound goes to retrieve the bottle of pills. “Don’t say I never gave you anything.”

“You know I would never say that,” Bloodhound sighs, rolling their eyes and pocketing the small bottle. Boone was often so sarcastic and assuming- those were qualities that Bloodhound did not like in him. Even after nearly a lifetime of losing each other and finding each other, there were some things that never changed. “Thank you, Boone.”

“The pleasure’s all mine, Hound.” Boone nods to them as they walk out into the hall, and Bloodhound inclines their head towards him as they shut the door.

Bloodhound winces as a wave of pain radiates throughout their skull. They can’t wait till they are safely in their apartment so they can take off the mask, down some of the pain pills, and hopefully take a nap. The medical bay is mostly empty now, with only a few doctors and nurses walking through the halls towards their patients. They look around the hallway, and sure enough, Elliott is standing up from his chair, a relieved expression on his face. 

“Hey,” he says, a smile breaking through as he walks toward them. “Your doctor finally let you go, huh?”

“Yes, he did,” Bloodhound replies, glancing behind them to make sure they properly closed the door. “I trust him with my life. I hope you can understand his reluctance to allow anyone inside while I am not aware of who is present.”

“Of course,” Elliott replies, nodding. “Hey, why does he sound like you? You guys have really similar ac- accents. Are you siblings or something?”

A funny little jolt electrifies Bloodhound’s veins, and weirdly, they laugh. “No. Boone and I are not siblings, but… we did grow up together.” The casualness with which they drop such a guarded piece of information startles even Bloodhound, and they snap their mouth shut. Thankfully, Elliott has seemed to pick up on when they feel uncomfortable, so he does not push the question further, even though Bloodhound can tell he wants to.

“Are you okay?” He fidgets with his fingers a little, and Bloodhound notices that he has not yet gone home to shower- his hands are caked in dirt and blood. He still smells like sweat and gunpowder, but Bloodhound can just barely make out the scent of his cologne beneath it all. They blush.

“I am fine, Elliott. Why are you still here?” they ask, a little harsher than intended. They find themself wishing they could take off the mask so he could see the smile that they force onto their face so he knows they’re not mad. 

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he replies, shrugging. “Can’t a man check on his friend?” He raises an eyebrow, and Bloodhound can sense the playfulness in his tone.

“You are right,” they admit, bowing their head a little. “Thank you. You are very kind.” They stand there awkwardly, not sure whether to leave or stay, but Elliott begins to walk to the exit, and Bloodhound follows him without a second thought. “Congratulations on your win today, félagi. It was much deserved, and I am proud of your improvement.”

Elliott laughs and ruffles his own hair, and the way it sticks up makes a curious little feeling rest under Bloodhound’s ribs. “Hey, thanks! I’d say sorry for landing you in the hospital, but it’s just an uc- up- occupational hazard at this point.” He shrugs. “Least I could do is make sure you’re okay.”

“I will be fine,” they assure him. “I have a headache, but it will soon subside.” Bloodhound rolls their neck as they walk, sighing. They suddenly remember the way they had run out on Elliott the night before, and shame floods their stomach, twisting it painfully.

“I am sorry for leaving so abruptly last night,” they murmur, their own fingers beginning to fidget with the bits of fabric on their coat. “I… I was overcome by an unpleasant memory, and I did not want to disturb you with my emotions.” The apology does not feel sufficient enough. Elliott has been so patient with them, so kind and supportive, and they’ve done nothing but hide from him. They want… they want to open up to him. Would that be safe? Would it be smart? They don’t know, but the burden of keeping everything to themself is beginning to weigh on them, and they hope that Elliott can withstand the enormity of their secrets.

Elliott shakes his head. “I was really worried about you.” His voice is low and warm, and it feels like an embrace of warmth. His arm twitches, and it almost feels like he wants to grab their hand. But he thinks better of it, and instead goes back to fidgeting with his fingers. “It means a lot, what you told me. I know that must have been hard.”

Bloodhound’s heart fills with a hope they haven’t felt in years, and if they weren’t still in the hospital, they would have pulled him into their arms right then and there. The urge is so unlike them, so uncharacteristic of their usual persona that they wonder just how much the pain medication is affecting them. They settle their emotions and touch his arm briefly. “Thank you, vinur minn. I am blessed by your willingness to listen.”

An idea comes to their head, and if they had thought of it a couple weeks ago, they would have immediately rejected it. But things could change so quickly, and they had. Elliott is a testament to that. So they open their mouth and ask, “Would you like to visit me in my apartment later this evening? After we have both sufficiently washed, of course.” Their cheeks burn spectacularly at the implication, but he cannot see it, and for that, they are grateful. “I owe you a great many explanations.”

Elliott looks like he’s just been hit with a frag grenade. He stares at them blankly for a few agonizing moments, and Bloodhound thinks they have overstepped their bounds, but he begins to babble. “I- are you sure? I mean, yeah, absolutely! That would be great!” The grin that splits his face makes their heart leap spectacularly in their chest. “I would love to. You definitely owe me, H- I mean, Bloodhound.” His cheeks blaze, and it’s so endearing to Bloodhound that they smile at him stupidly underneath the mask.

“It is settled, then,” they announce, just as the pair of them reach the exit. “You are welcome to arrive any time after eight. That should give us both plenty of time to wash up and eat dinner.”

Elliott nods vigorously, smiling like a schoolboy. “It’s a date! I-I mean-” His face drains of color and he shakes his head. “It’s a, uh, it’s a m-meeting, or whatever you want it to be. I mean, it could be a date if you wanted but I, uh, I mean, that would be fine, I… guess?” The poor man looks like he wants to melt into the floor, and Bloodhound’s heart pounds in their chest as they chuckle.

Bloodhound is enchanted by his eagerness, by his willingness to be with them, and they hope they are not making more out of this than it is. “I will see you then, Elliott,” they say, touching his arm once more. They give him one last lingering look before they walk out the door and into the crisp Solace air.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

was it a dream, m | myg, jjk

pairing(s): yoongi x reader x jungkook

summary: You fucked Min Yoongi on Jeon Jungkook’s bed, then you took Jungkook’s virginity because Yoongi told you to, and still you and Yoongi don’t know what the fuck you are because, let’s face it, everything is too complicated now – so I guess that’s grounds to let Jungkook cum all over your face and tits as Yoongi fucks you? Sure, whatever.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, alcohol consumption; no one wants to admit anything and there’s no closure tbh; fluff and feels; smut (fem reader, threesome, semi-public sex, fingering, f-receiving oral, nipple play, penetrative sex, doggy, facial, cum-eating); non-idol!AU - friends with benefits / lovers? with Yoongi and JK

a–dick–ted au, but can be read alone.

–

next on ‘dreams‘ playlist > pretty ting by bibi ft. kim seungmin > te quiero by twly ft bibi

"I get bored."

"Mhm."

"I don't like lingering."

"Mmm."

"... We're still in front of the house, Yoongi."

"I know where we are."

Min Yoongi was peeling your black hoodie up and over your head. Well, actually, his hoodie. It made your now red hair cascade down over your shoulders, wisping around your red bra straps. Yoongi was the one who suggested you to dye your hair. You didn't do it for him. You were going to do it anyway. 

Right.

Whiskey on his breath, leaning in. Tasting like danger and sex, just because it was him. 

"I like this skirt," Yoongi purred. "It's tiny."

He was referring to your plaid red skirt. Almost schoolgirl-style, except no schoolgirl wore anything that short. You used to wear it in high school when you went to the arcades on weekends. Back then, you were much skinner and trying to unsuccessfully hook-up with guys. You still fit into it, waist-wise. Ass-wise.... not so much. You filled out over the years. 

"It's cold."

Yoongi hummed knowingly. His hands worked up your thighs, spreading them out. Pushed down your black thigh-high socks so he could knead more of them. 

"You still wore it though."

Well, yeah. You weren't trying to pick up random guys anymore. Only Min Yoongi. Every time, at these loud ass house parties with too many drunk people and too loud bass. It was a mess. Someone was attempting to chug a whole barrel of beer and ended up vomiting in the grass. 

Disgusting. 

"Why do you go to these things?" you muttered as Yoongi lifted one of your legs, tucking it beside him so he could stare at your clothed pussy. Red, seamless, cheeky. Not a thong. He clicked his tongue in disappointment, but you ignored him. 

"Free alcohol."

"Really?" you snorted, backing up a little as his hand neared. "I could just buy whiskey and bring it to you if you want free alcohol that bad."

Yoongi smirked, licking his pink lips. Wet, glistening. You wanted them on your clit right now. His fingers dipped down, stroking the smooth red fabric lightly. Too lightly. Teasing you. You twisted the urge to raise your hips for more pressure. 

"Where's the fun in that?"

You raised an eyebrow. 

Yoongi pressed down, fingertips shoving the fabric into you, soaking it instantly. You sucked in a breath, staring into his dark, cat-like eyes.

"Why do that when I can make you jealous by going to these parties and having you wonder if I've kissed someone else, touched someone else, fucked someone else?"

He rubbed your clit through the fabric and you gritted your teeth, moving your hand down, but Yoongi was faster, slapping it away. Rubbed harder, a low moan leaving your throat. You didn't want to reach up with your other hand because you might lose balance and hit your steering wheel and accidentally honk your horn. That would be a disaster. 

Yeah.

Of course, that’s why you weren’t stopping him now.

"I don't care what you do, Yoongi," you panted, glaring at him. 

Different house, different party, same car, the correct scene this time, with the right guy in your car, getting you off through your panties. 

Why don't you have a boyfriend?

That was Yoongi's first question when he slid into your car this night. Looking fine as hell with his black-and-white flannel, gray t-shirt, black cargo pants, black sneakers. Straight black hair covering his eyes, a clean undercut when he pushed it back to smirk at you. 

Yoongi curled his finger, now grinding your clit with his knuckle. Oh, fuck. Your juices leaked into your panties, darkening the wet spot and filling the car with your scent. Close.

"You don't care, hm?" Yoongi mused in a tone implying that he knew you cared. Very much. After all, what happened last time… You don't slap bitches across the face for no good reason. 

"She was making out with someone who couldn't consent from my point of view."

There was a dark sparkle of mischief in Yoongi's eyes. 

"Who was? I wasn't referring to anything in particular."

Shit. 

Your face heated and you grinded into his hand, breathing hard, not caring anymore. Whatever. Who cares what Min Yoongi thought? You were going to get off and whether he was there or not didn't fucking matter. Yoongi pressed his knuckle into you, dark hair shadowing his eyes, soft exhales as he watched you near your peak. 

"Cum for me," Yoongi breathed, raspy and deep. "Right here, in front of this party, in your panties, and on my hand."

He could make you do anything. 

You bit your lip and pressed the back of your head into the car window, shutting your eyes, letting the whines out. Pleasure warming you, tendrils of heat crawling up your torso from Yoongi's hand, your soft voice telling him he was so good and he was purring your name, drawing it out, so sexy in his husky tone saturated with lust. 

"A-ah, Yoongi..."

Your back arched and your breathing hiked, onto the edge and then falling, falling, Yoongi's knuckle suddenly slicker, your hips rocking and shivering, whimpering as the pleasure shocked your heart, beating so fast and hard that you felt your pulse in your throat. You heard Yoongi snicker, spreading his fingers out, pressing them to your wet panties, shoving them into your folds, rubbing soothingly.

"I like this most," came his smokey whisper behind your closed lids. "I always have the most fun with you."

You're such a bad boy, Min Yoongi. 

You breathed out in long, smooth breaths, trying to calm your speeding heartbeat. Yoongi's hand still on your crotch, the other on your thigh, squeezing it.

"Noona, open the door."

A muscle in your eyebrow twitched. You sucked on your tongue and opened your eyes. A clear voice with silvery depth. It had come from behind your head. You made eye contact with Yoongi. 

He looked thoroughly amused. 

You turned your head partway to see your side mirror. Yup. Ash blond hair, dark eyes, black tattoos as his right hand tapped your car window, tan skin, sharp jawline. White turtleneck, white denim jacket over it. Black jeans.

The wrong guy. Jeon Jungkook. 

You heard your car doors click and, out of the corner of your eye, you saw Yoongi press the button to unlock them. Hmph. Jungkook moved from the front seat to open the backseat. Climbed in like he owned the damn place. He also smelled like alcohol, but all kinds, unlike Yoongi's whiskey scent. 

"Hey, hyung."

"Hello, Jungkook."

You didn't look at him. 

"Hey, noona."

"Get out of my car," you spat.

"Should I get out of the car, hyung?"

"No. She doesn't mean it."

You glared daggers at Yoongi, who smirked widely. Your legs were spread open in Yoongi's lap, your hoodie was off, there was a giant wet spot between your thighs, your skirt was far too short to cover anything, and your red hair was in disarray, fucked up by Yoongi's insistence. Your eyes flickered to Jungkook, who looked back at you. You thought he would be gazing at your body, but he wasn't. He was staring at your face. 

Somehow, that was worse.

Your neck heated and you looked away from those brown eyes, to the house. Jungkook's female harem was at the porch, gaggling at your car. Seven of them. Why was there seven? That's a random number, you thought. They were beginning to recognize your car. Hmph. Well, you can have him, just leave me and Yoongi alo–

You gasped as Jungkook pulled the lever of your seat, dumping you to the back of the car, scooping his arm around your shoulders, grabbing your head and kissing you hard, tasting like alcohol and smelling like laundry and the sea. You moaned into his mouth as Yoongi slipped under your panties and shoved two fingers into you, grunting at your tightness. Jungkook's soft tongue slid into your lips, your name mumbled onto your tongue, rubbing it as Yoongi fingered you. Too much simulation at once. Jungkook's free hand pushed up your bra, exposing one of your breasts and pinching your nipple. You whined, hips bucking into Yoongi's hand, too much, it was too much, Jungkook’s rough kisses and Yoongi's long fingers, and you felt the wet squelch as it all spilled out, gushing down Yoongi's hand, chest heaving in Jungkook's arms, moaning your release into the younger man's mouth. 

Jungkook broke the kiss, scrambling down as Yoongi removed his fingers. Yoongi brought them to his face and swirled his tongue around his digits. He hummed approvingly around his fingers as you whined, feeling Jungkook's hot tongue lap up the rest, licking at your swollen clit, sensitive from Yoongi's prior work.

"Don't put your dirty tongue on me after you've ate out other girls all night," you gritted out, hand reaching down to grip Jungkook's blond hair. Not pulling him away, but not pushing him in either. 

"I didn't eat anyone out," Jungkook murmured into your pussy, vibrating the slick lips with his low voice. "Hyung told me you were picking him up and that you would pick me up too."

You said no such thing. You gave Yoongi a peeved look and Yoongi just smirked around his wet fingers, smearing your juices over his lips and licking them off. You shivered and pushed Jungkook's head into your pussy, gasping as he shoved his tongue into your hole. 

The girls outside seemed to realize what was going on. They were pointing accusingly and yapping amongst themselves. Your tits were half out, after all. 

"Great, now everyone thinks I'm a slut, Yoongi," you grumbled.

"Who cares?" Yoongi said dismissively. "Anyone who talks shit is going to answer to my fist."

Jungkook lifted his head, panting for breath, chin shiny with your pussy. He didn't look outside. He simply curved his arm around Yoongi's head and flipped off anyone looking in the car. You raised your eyebrows. Thank the American culture for making the middle finger the universal 'fuck you' so that even Koreans knew what it meant. Yoongi seemed to know what Jungkook was doing and laughed huskily as Jungkook backed up, slumping in the backseat. 

"Am I supposed to drive like this?" you hissed, shoving your exposed breast back into your bra and snapping your panties into place before lowering your leg. Ugh, your underwear was soaked. You had pulled your foot out of your boot before Yoongi started pretzeling you in the driver's seat of your own damn car. You shoved your foot back into it now, fixing yourself up. Yoongi plucked the black hoodie from the driver’s seat. 

"Technically, this isn't yours."

"I thought it looked familiar," Jungkook remarked, wiping his chin and then licking off the back of his hand.

You righted your seat, rolling your eyes. 

"Whatever," you mumbled as you started your car. 

-

“Why did you make me do it?” you had asked him.

Yoongi’s lips trailed along your bare shoulder, pulling down his blanket to leave his marks on you.

“Do what?” he had murmured against your skin, making you shiver.

“The whole ‘taking-Jeon-Jungkook’s-virginity’ thing.’”

He traced your shoulder blade with his tongue. “Did I read the situation wrong?” Completely neutral, his hand coming up to run his fingers through your hair. You melted into the action, one of your favorites. It made your skin tingle and your breathing soften, releasing the tenseness in your chest. “You always tell me if I’m wrong.”

“Yeah… I do.”

“Did you hate it?”

“… No.”

Yoongi turned you around to face him, his black hair brushing against your cheeks. Eyes barely open, but seeing all of you. He collected your hair in his fingers, pushing it back and away from your neck. His lips swollen from your kisses; his fair skin nicked with pink from your bites.

“That’s good.”

His finger drew the line of your collarbone, dark orbs watching your lips part, wanting him. Pulling yourself closer to him, skin to skin, his warmth against yours. You leaned in. Yoongi didn’t move away, his breath against your lips.

“What are we?” you whispered.

“Don’t know.” His lips grazed against yours and your moaned softly into them. “Whatever you want.” Dainty, simple kisses. “We’re whatever you want. You know that.” Capturing your lips, trapping them, fingers dancing down, looping around your waist and pulling you close, chest to chest. “You want it to stay like this, it will stay like this.” Grinding against your thigh, hardening against your softness. “You want me to keep driving you crazy, you want me to keep letting Jungkook play with you, then it’ll happen.”

Deep, intense kisses, teasing you, making you addicted to him.

“You want me to go away and leave you alone, I will.”

Your arm came around and you tangled your fingers in his black hair, kissing him fiercely.

“No, don’t leave me alone,” you breathed. “Want this. Want you.”

He purred your name against your lips, flitting his tongue between them.

“Want you, Yoongi.”

-

Everyone said the same thing.

Min Yoongi is a bad boy. Min Yoongi is a playboy. Min Yoongi doesn’t care about anything. He’s just a guy who makes pretty good music, but think twice before trying to get close to him. He’s had the same friends for years and any new ones were superficial acquaintances.

You didn’t care about any of that. You weren’t really hanging out with him anyway. He was just always there when you were kind-of, sort-of dating Kim Namjoon. And it was a kind-of, sort-of because you kept it that way. Namjoon kept asking you to take it further, but you held him at a distance, saying it was too early and that you were careful with your heart.

Then It was the little things. Accidents.

A brush. A graze. A single fingertip.

Yoongi’s eyes on yours. Watching you. Challenging. It didn’t mean anything, until it did. It didn’t mean anything, until the touches got bolder, the moments got longer, and then you were in the bathroom hallway of some random club, face-to-face with Min Yoongi, and he was close, so close, but not touching you. He didn’t say anything at first. Just looked at you and you knew, shit this whole thing with Namjoon is not it, because no matter how good riding Kim Namjoon’s dick was, it was not Min Yoongi’s stare that was instantly making your pussy throb.

His long fingers danced in the air. Tracing the curve of your jaw, but not touching you. Whiskey on his breath, but not breathing on you. Cocking his eyebrow at you, at you. His palm turned upwards, two fingers outstretched and, if you leaned forward, you could place you chin on them.

But you didn’t.

“Are you wet?” Yoongi whispered huskily, barely heard over the loud bass.

You blinked slowly. “Are you hard?”

His lips curved into a devious smirk.

“Yeah.”

Pause.

“Yes.”

Someone was vomiting real fucking loudly in the men’s bathroom.

Yoongi dropped his hand and took a step back. Let his eyes linger on you as he backed up and walked away, rounding the corner.

You broke up that thing with Namjoon that night. It wasn’t fair to him and he wasn’t in that deep yet, so he was chill with it. Understanding. He wasn’t getting the vibes from you either. You didn’t even know if you had vibes.

You didn’t throw yourself into Min Yoongi’s arms. That would be rude and, besides, it wasn’t like you knew him that well. But Namjoon still invited you to things, concerts and stuff, because he was a nice guy and, even if you guys weren’t dating, he was still friendly. And you went, even if you didn’t really like people. Just in case.

The first couple times, Yoongi wasn’t there.

And then he was.

And then it started again, but bolder this time, crazier things, short skirts and exploring hands, no talking, no chats, only eyes and touches, until it wasn’t, his hands curling into your shirt, shoving you against the wall and kissing you and you kissing him back, fingers slipping under his leather jacket and pushing up his shirt, nails on his skin.

His raspy voice against your puffy lips.

“Let’s have some fun.”

Always going to these damn parties, always asking you to take him home so he could take you down, gasping your name into your ear, telling you the same thing.

“I always have the most fun with you.”

Asking you how you wanted it today, from the back, from the front, against the wall, saying he’ll do anything to get you off. You want his tongue? His fingers? His dick? He would give it to you. Spread your legs open on his kitchen counter and eat you out like you were his fucking groceries.

Always reminding you.

“The best sex is still you.”

You would still go to the events Namjoon invited you to, his underground concerts, and watch Yoongi open for him every once in a while, growling into the mic and glaring at the audience, until he found you, lips curving into his trademark open-mouthed smirk that would be in between your legs later that night.

Min Yoongi is a bad boy.

Min Yoongi is a playboy.

Min Yoongi doesn’t care about anything.

So what?

You can feel however you want.

You can live however you want.

No reason to take anything seriously.

Whatever, right?

-

“Give me the fucking hoodie.”

“Nah, you can borrow Jungkook’s jacket.”

“Except you can’t button it, noona.”

You sucked in an annoyed breath. “Fine, give me the fucking jacket.”

Min Yoongi smirked, watching Jeon Jungkook strip his denim jacket and hand it to you. You put it on, scowling. “You act like it’s acid,” Yoongi chuckled.

“I’m burning,” you snapped sarcastically. “Absolutely dying being covered in Jeon Jungkook.”

“You want to be covered in Jeon Jungkook’s cum, that’s for sure.”

You took too long to respond to Yoongi’s quip. Jungkook smirked, placing his forearms on the headrest of your seat, craning his head around to look at your face. You turned away, feeling your neck and ears pulse. His ash blond hair drifted down, shading one of his brown eyes.

“Yeah, noona? Is that what you want? I’ll give it to you.”

“Shut up.”

You twisted away and got out of your car, followed by the two men. Didn’t look at either of them. It was a cold night, but your body was hot. It wasn’t covered enough. You felt an arm curve around your waist, tattoos on a tan hand. A sharp chin balancing on your red hair.

“Need your help, noona. I’m kind of drunk.”

“Let me call the Grim Reaper.”

A fair hand sliding under the denim jacket, making you hiss with the cold touch.

“You chilly?” Yoongi teased. “Need cuddles?”

You didn’t say anything. He could feel how hot your skin was, saw your ears were fucking scorching with embarrassment with how short your plaid skirt was. You locked your car, ignoring them.

“It’s only three flights of stairs,” Jungkook murmured, probably staring at your ass.

Whatever, right?

-

“Need my jacket back, noona.”

“Where’s the hoodie?” you grumbled to Yoongi.

Yoongi shrugged. “Left it in your car.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fucking typical. I’ll go get–”

Yoongi shoved you into Jungkook’s apartment.

-

“He just wants another taste.”

Warm lips on your neck, large fair-skinned hands circled with black-and-white checked flannel dancing up your bare chest, bra already gone. Jungkook already on his knees, looking up at you, licking his lips. Still in his white turtleneck and jeans.

“Look at him. Isn’t he cute? Don’t you want to shove your dripping pussy into those pink lips and grab that blond hair?”

“You’re so bad, Yoongi.”

You lifted up your skirt, so fucking short it was basically useless. You ticked your chin to your panties, damp from earlier in the car. “Help me take them off, Jungkook.”

Jungkook licked his lips again, letting his tongue dawdle before sliding it back in.

“You sure, noona?”

“Yeah.” Sucked in a breath as Yoongi teased your nipples, too familiar of a scene. “Want your mouth, please.” Rubbed them in between his fingertips and you moaned, leaning into Yoongi’s touch. “Please, Jungkook, wanna cum in your mouth.”

The side of Jungkook’s lips cocked upwards. “Of course, noona.” Reached up and hooked his fingers on the sides, pulling them down your thighs, mouth watering as he witnessed your wetness. Leaned forward and buried his nose into it, inhaling deeply, shuddering. “Smells so fucking good.”

Yoongi’s fingers leaving your breasts, running through your red hair, the hair you dyed because he causally said you should dye it red. He got it out of you eventually, both hands in your hair as he fucked you into his bed, balls slapping into you with his force, breathing in your face.

“Your hair is so fucking sexy,” he had panted. “You dyed it red because I said you should, didn’t you?”

“No.”

He stopped suddenly, leaving you full, but unstimulated, bent in half under him. You tried to move, but Yoongi’s grip in your hair had tightened, breathing hard against your lips.

“You’re no liar,” he had whispered.

“Move.”

“Tell the truth.”

Gentle kiss. His cock twitched inside you and you moaned, needing more.

“Tell the truth,” he had commanded.

“Yes, fuck, Yoongi, yes, now fucking give it to me.”

He began to fuck you again, hard and satisfying and everything you wanted. The best fucking dick you’ve ever had, made you cum twice before him, made you gasp his name and clutch his sheets, just like how you grabbed his shirt and gasped his name right now, leaning back against him as Yoongi’s head curved around your body, attaching his lips to your nipple as Jungkook’s tongue dipped into your drenched pussy, his moan vibrating your core as Yoongi sucked, playing with your other nipple with his hand. Standing in Jungkook’s bedroom, two mouths on you. Jungkook took one of your legs and put it on his shoulder, noisily and messily eating you out, Yoongi’s whiskey breath now all over your tits.

You could have been mad, but you were too horny to be angry, too busy humping Jungkook’s face and arching your back to get more into Yoongi’s hot mouth. One hand in Yoongi’s black hair and the other in Jungkook’s blond hair, gripping them both tight, losing yourself in the pleasure, head tipped back and tongue sliding out, impossible to catch your breath. Jungkook’s tongue lapped at your clit, closing in on it, adding more force, and you whimpered, legs shaking.

“Jungkook, a-ah, fuck…”

Skirt bunched around your waist, far too short to even blanket Jungkook’s face, giving you a clear view of his intense brown eyes, one hand on your thigh and the other wrapped around your ass, shoving your hips into his face.

Yoongi flicked your hard nipple with his tongue and pinched the other. You moaned, shivers up your spine, suddenly tipping into your orgasm and spilling it all into Jungkook’s mouth, Yoongi’s name leaving your lips, rolling your body into his face, hearing him chuckle in that deep voice of his. Jungkook slurped greedily, lapping at your pussy as Yoongi released your nipple and came up, murmuring your name, feathery kisses on your lips.

“So sexy,” he breathed. “So fuckable.”

You moaned into Yoongi’s mouth as your rode Jungkook’s face, and Jungkook got the hint, licking you all over again, your clit throbbing onto his tongue, leaking more and more into his mouth.

“Fuck, noona, you taste so fucking good when you’re horny,” Jungkook growled, his Busan satoori slipping out. “Extra sweet, like candy.”

Yoongi gave you one last kiss as Jungkook lowered your leg, standing up to cup your face and kiss you, smearing your juices on your face and licking them off, a fucking mess, your own sweet-sour taste spreading everywhere. You shuddered against his lips, one hand still in his hair, the other letting go of Yoongi’s black locks and clutching Jungkook’s turtleneck as he kissed you.

“Leave the skirt on, noona,” Jungkook mumbled. “You look so cute in it. Cute little slut.”

Body so hot, so fucking hot that it felt like your skin was on fire.

“… Fine.”

Jungkook’s hands sliding back, burying in your dark red shadow root, light kisses on your cheeks. “Just playing around, noona. I know you’re not a slut.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Jungkook chuckled and grabbed your ass, grinding his crotch into yours. “You do like playing with me, don’t you?” He was so fucking hard, even through the thick fabric of his jeans.

“Mhm.” You swallowed your moan, gripping Jungkook tighter. “Don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me though.”

“I told you,” Jungkook purred, nudging you towards his bed, getting you to climb onto it, those familiar navy sheets, so soft against your skin. They smelled just like Jungkook, fresh laundry with a hint of the sea. “Sex dreams with you are too good. I need the real thing.”

He dumped you on his bed, leaning down, kissing you once more.

“I wanna see you doing the stuff you do in my dreams.”

-

“You look cold.”

You shivered. “I’m not.”

Yoongi pulled off his black hoodie and held it out to you.

You puffed out hot air. “I don’t need it.”

His voice low and husky. “Smells like me.”

You bit you lip and took it from him, slipping it over your shoulders. Smelled so fucking good, just like Yoongi with a hint of whiskey. You snuck a glance at him in your passenger’s seat. He was leaning back in the chair, sighing softly, black hair all over his closed eyes. You saw the dark circles. His face seemed paler than usual. You started the car.

“Need to drop by the pharmacy.”

“Any chain in particular?” you replied absentmindedly.

Yoongi waved a hand. “Just need hangover meds and water.”

You tapped the water bottle in your cupholder. “There’s some left.”

You kept your eyes on the road as he reached over and drank from it. You heard it being drained. You drove steadily, thinking of the closest pharmacy. Stopped at a red light, thinking you needed to turn left at the next one.

“Thanks for picking me up.”

“Mhm.”

Silence with your steady driving, ever so slightly going over the speed limit. Not enough to get caught. Just on the edge. Gliding in the darkness, surrounded by yellow headlights and red backlights. You pulled into a parking lot, right in front of the pharmacy.

“Be a sec.”

Yoongi hauled himself out of the seat, wearing only his over-sized white t-shirt and distressed blue jeans. Was it just you or his arms a little skinner than before? The silver bracelets seemed looser on his wrists.

“Want your–?”

The car door shut.

“Hoodie,” you finished, speaking to no one. You watched Yoongi stagger to the door, pulling a black face mask out and covering his face before entering. You had a brief, fleeting moment where you thought, I should have gone with him, but you frowned. Yoongi was an adult. He didn’t need you.

He didn’t need you.

You rested your arms on your steering wheel and waited. Waited. You were good at waiting. Was it still waiting if that your default state, just breezing through life, wondering if there was any meaning in it all, wondering if anything meant anything? You made a face. Why were you having an existential crisis right now? Stupid. If nothing mattered, why bother agonizing over it?

Whatever.

The car door opened and Yoongi slid in, tugging off his face mask and holding a plastic bag.

“Here.”

You jumped as Yoongi threw a small plastic packet in your lap. Gummy bears.

“You like these, right?”

You blinked at them. “Yeah… I guess.” You did like gummy bears. Why did he get gummy bears?

“That’s good.”

That was that. Yoongi cracked open a water bottle. You waited as he scowled, dumping powder into the water and shaking it up. He squinted at the directions and then resumed shaking the water bottle, turning the water a cloudy white. He reopened the bottle and took a large swig, shuddering as he removed it from his lips. He didn’t look pleased, but he accepted it.

“What are you trying to forget?”

“Hm?”

You shrugged, tilting your head at him. “I mean, you go out drinking a lot. That’s what alcoholics do.”

Yoongi snorted. “I’m never drunk.”

“What’s with the hangover meds, then?” you pointed out.

His eyes slid to you. They seemed extra dark even in the bright streetlights.

“I don’t want a headache in the morning,” he muttered. “Or a limp dick.”

You chuckled. “I can just drop you off and go home.” You reached over and started the car. He seemed tired and stressed. You figured you could let him sleep. Wasn’t like you picked him up only because you wanted a quick fuck.

He tapped the water bottle against your forearm as you started turning out of the parking lot. You spared him a glance, raising your eyebrows.

“Wanna see your face in the morning,” he said casually, taking another sip. You could barely see his eyes with his black bangs covering them. “And hear you begging for my dick to fuck you harder.”

You rolled your eyes and drove him to his apartment.

You stayed that night.

-

“Jungkook, your dreams are freaky as fuck,” Yoongi cackled, hoisting your hips up as you whined, back arched and wrists tied by Jungkook’s belt looped a few times around them and buckled closed.

Jungkook asked you to keep the skirt on. He asked you to move your arms back and stick your chest out, breasts pushed together by your upper arms, nipples sticking straight out. He asked you to press your forearms together and not move them, hands clasped together as he jacked off in front of you.

Sure, whatever.

He also asked Yoongi to rail you from behind while he was doing it, and asked his hyung to make your tits bounce.

And Yoongi told him he was freaky as fuck as he slid into you, using one of Jungkook’s condoms, mentioning that Jungkook should buy a different brand because they were thinner and better quality.

“Okay, hyung, I’ll make sure to have them next time.”

Next time, okay, yeah, sure Jungkook, it’s not like you’re the one on Yoongi’s dick, you thought wryly as Yoongi began to move, slow but hard, your breasts bouncing at the action, gasp torn from your throat.

“Why do you even have condoms?” you muttered between pants, rocking on Yoongi’s hips as he lifted you and dropped you on his hard cock, ugh, so fucking good, felt so good as Yoongi fucked you and you watched Jungkook’s right hand wrapped around his stiff length, the red head disappearing and reappearing in his tattooed fingers, his chest rippling and his lower lip in his teeth, tiny mole dancing underneath it, eyes on your bouncing tits, moaning as he watched the obscenity in front of him.

Felt good to be watched and tied up, kneeling on Jungkook’s bed, because it was wrong, so fucking wrong, but it felt so fucking good.

“In case you want to fuck me,” Jungkook gasped. “Unless you want my babies.”

You huffed. “I do not.”

Jungkook ticked his head, smirk on his lips with his lip bite. “There you go.” He scooted closer and you ticked an eyebrow, feeling Yoongi’s fingertips dig into you as he smacked his crotch into your ass. You moaned, Yoongi’s name dropping from your lips.

“You always look so fucking hot when you’re getting fucked.”

You chuckled. “This is only the second time you’ve watched me getting fucked.”

Jungkook grinned. “Nope, I’ve seen you get fucked hundreds of times in my dreams.”

You rolled your eyes and the action was cut short as Yoongi shifted and hit your favorite spot, making you cry out and lurch forward, breath in Jungkook’s face, breasts knocking together. Your hands touched the bed, squeezing your tits, gasping for breath.

“Don’t fall over, naughty girl,” Yoongi purred. “Give Jungkookie the best view.”

You lifted your head back, balancing on your fingertips, mouth open, tongue touching your lip, vision hazy with lust. Jungkook’s blond hair covered one of his brown eyes, jaw clenched and he stroked himself faster, veins popping out on his hardness, pre-cum leaking from the tip and running down.

“Wanna cum on your face and tits, noona,” Jungkook breathed. “Wanna cover you with me.”

“Where are your manners, Jungkook?” Yoongi barked behind you, the smacking between you two radiating off the walls, squeaking the bed, and probably wholeheartedly disturbing his neighbors.

Jungkook sank his teeth in his lip, suddenly apologetic. You were about to blurt out that you didn’t give a shit, but Jungkook spoke, breathless with a hint of neediness, staring into your eyes with his brown doe-like ones, and suddenly you couldn’t say anything, repeatedly jerked forward by Yoongi’s forceful thrusts, frozen by Jungkook’s whisper.

“Please, noona… Please let me cum on your tits. On your face. Please let me see you with my cum all over you.”

Once again, you were reminded that Jungkook actually liked you.

“… O-Okay, Jungkook,” you gasped. “A-Anything you want.”

You arched your back even more, tipping your head up, breathing hard. Jungkook had to stand on the bed, his thin moans indicating he was nearing his end and you stared up at him, eyes wide, mouth open, pussy clenching around Yoongi’s cock, whimpering as you felt him fill you over and over, his long fingers bruising your hips, Yoongi’s rough, raspy drawl of you name, deepened by his Daegu satoori.

“Such a sexy woman, so eager to get a faceful of cum, aren’t you?”

You whined, lust building inside you, staring into Jungkook’s glazed-over brown eyes and his thick, dark red cock ready to burst. Yoongi’s voice could make you do anything. He really could. And you wanted him to. You wanted him to make you do anything he wanted, everything he wanted. Your voice was soaked with lust, eyes half-lidded, lips wetly parted.

“Y-Yes, Yoongi… I want Jungkook’s cum all over me…”

Jungkook’s shaking left hand touched your forehead, gently holding you in place, ash blond strands brushing against his high cheekbones as he whispered your name, heavy with his Busan satoori.

“You’re so good to me, noona.”

He moaned your name again and came with hot white strings, splattering down your cheeks and neck, some of it hitting your lips and tongue, spilling onto your bouncing breasts, coating them with his salty orgasm. You moaned back, eyes rolling back as you hit your peak, painted in Jungkook’s cum, so hot, so sticky on your skin, and you tightened around Yoongi’s cock, whimpering as you came, suddenly so wet like a waterfall, slick and viscous, reminding you of the first time that you came on this bed with Yoongi’s tongue on top of Jungkook’s sleeping body, but this time Jungkook was shoving the sensitive head in between your open lips, groaning as you licked off the dripping cum, some of it dribbling into your throat.

Yoongi hissed your name, and you whimpered as his cock twitched inside you, fully sheathing himself in your burning heat before spilling into the condom, his jerking length being roughly massaged by your tight walls. Jungkook’s cum was running down your chest, clinging to your nipples, dripping onto his sheets. Jungkook pulled out of your mouth and your tongue extended, licking at the leftover cum on the outskirts of your lips before you yelped abruptly.

“A-ah, Jungkook!”

Jungkook’s hands cupped your breasts, pushing them together and running his hot tongue over your breasts, sucking off his orgasm, lapping at your nipples, making you shudder and squirm, wiggling on Yoongi’s cock and pussy throbbing with every lick.

“Holy fuck,” Yoongi groaned, obviously witnessing Jungkook’s slurping of his cum off your tits and neck, and feeling you moan and buck on his slowly softening cock. “You’re wild, Jungkook.”

Jungkook didn’t seem to notice or care, kissing up your throat, tongue flicking against your cheeks, breath hot on your face, saturated with the salty scent of his cum. His palms on your trembling jaw, pulling you down to his lips, kissing you deeply, your moan in his mouth.

“You feel good, noona?” Jungkook whispered huskily against your lips.

“Y-Yeah…”

Your heart was rattling against your ribcage, still shattered from your orgasm and the dirtiness of Jungkook’s actions. So hard to come down, trapped on cloud nine, struggling for breath. Jungkook pressed his sweaty forehead into yours, fingers sliding back to run them through your red strands, your skin tingling at his touch. His blond hair stuck to your face, his brown eyes closing.

“Don’t worry,” he breathed softly against your quivering breath. “I’m here with you.”

-

You opened your eyes, slowly.

Groggily.

Navy sheets, so soft against your bare skin. Hand splayed over your breasts, covering them, holding you close to a hard, muscular chest. Your eyes flickered down, trying to blink the sleep away. Black tattoos on tan skin. You shifted your eyes forward. Mop of black hair, messily covering what you knew were dark, cat-like eyes. Pale chest, completely bare. Your hand was around his slim waist, fingertips on his back.

Don’t you want to be bad with me?

You retreated your hand. Those dark eyes opened, just a crack.

Watching you.

Your hand reached up, tracing his jaw. Palm up. Placed two fingers on his chin, caressing it.

His name, his name, perfectly formed by your lips, your addiction, the feeling you couldn’t give up.

“Yoongi.”

His pink lips curved into a devious smirk. His hand closed around yours, fingers intertwining.

Spark of mischief in his eyes.

“Shh. Go to sleep.”

Held your hand as you closed your eyes once again, nestled in Jungkook’s arms.

-

fourth act. lucid dreams a–dick–ted au

--

masterpost

[carnistirs]

saudade

↳ @taangweek 2020 Day 1: Tradition 

This was gonna go a certain way, but then SOMEONE (they know who they are) showed me some angsty stuff they were working on and this fic took a completely different turn. Sorry in advance y’all 

Summary: Aang goes back to the swamp on the same day every year. 

Warning: character death

Read it on ao3 or under the cut

saudade {Portuguese} the feeling of intense longing for a person or place you love but is now lost

‘

Aang catches her, finally, and chooses not to cushion their fall with any air, letting their bodies tumble into the damp earth instead. He hits the ground first, hands pinned against her back to keep her from jostling too much.  

“Rematch,” his wife demands. “You weren’t supposed to use any bending!”  

“You had an advantage! You’re always using seismic sense, so it’s impossible to sneak up on you, Toph.”

“This is the Earth Rumble all over again. Chase me again, you filthy little cheater.”

“It feels like I’ll always be chasing you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the wisps of hair over her temple. He closes his eyes, basks in the bits of sunlight peeking through the plethora of trees above them. “I’ll catch you every once in a while, but I never get to keep you.”

He’s always going to be that twelve-year-old boy running after a pretty girl who won’t wait for him, her laughter taunting him—

“Thanks for killing the mood, Twinkletoes,” Toph retorts, punching him in the chest.

A thread of panic bursts inside of him because that punch had felt like nothing – like she’s made of air – so he desperately grabs her retreating fist and tucks it over his heart. She sighs like she’s both exasperated and in love with him, and it’s so familiar that when he blinks rapidly against the burning sensation behind his eyes, there’s already dew dotted along his lashes.

Toph snuggles into him, coiling the fingers from her other hand around Aang’s forearm. “Where are the boys?”

“With their grandparents.”

Her nose wrinkles. “You left them with my mom and dad?”

“They’re not that bad,” Aang smiles, small. “Your parents have been really helpful with watching them.”

“Fine,” Toph rolls her eyes. “Did Tenzin start bending anything yet? Please tell me he’s an earthbender.”

“Sorry, Sifu T,” comes his reply, and an involuntary laugh is yanked out of him when she starts cursing up a storm. “He sneezed the other day and shot six feet into the air. We have another airbender.”

“You’re telling me none of our kids are earthbenders. Absolutely none? That’s just fucking wrong.”

Aang turns, keeping her palm close to his chest as he drops his forehead against hers. “We only have two,” he whispers softly, pressing a soft kiss to the space between her dark brows. “I think our next kid would have been an earthbender. She would have been a girl too – strong and beautiful just like her mother.”  

“You think I would’ve kept popping out babies for you?” she throws back with a scoff. “You try giving birth and see how that shit feels.” Mild pause. “I guess you’re right though. A girl would have been nice.”  

The weight of her against him starts to fade at a frightening pace, which means he doesn’t have much time with her left.

A chasm lies in his chest, poisoned and concave, and the longer he lives and exists without Toph, the harder the abyss inside him threatens to swallow him whole. It’s an exhausing kind of pain that sleep and meditation cannot ease away. It languishes his body and runs his blood cold; it has him shaking with tears at night until all of it is slowly weaned from his body.

“I don’t want to go back,” Aang says helplessly against the arch of her throat, gripping onto the indents of her hips. “Please don’t make me leave. Don’t make me leave you.”

“If you leave our kids fatherless, I will claw my way out from the grave and bury you until you’re a thousand feet under.”

Aang chuckles wetly. “I would never do that to Gyatso and Tenzin. Not intentionally.”  

He doesn’t have a choice anyway.

The Avatar doesn’t get to stop just because the love of his life is gone. He doesn’t get to weep over the fact that they should have gotten so many more decades together, that she was supposed to keep insulting him and loving him until they were old and withered.

Some days, Aang believes he doesn’t want to live in a world where she’s no longer in it. He doesn’t want to move on from her, to wake up one day years from now and think it’s okay that she’s not by his side anymore. She’d been his home for the longest while and now that she’s gone, he’s been rendered homeless and lost for the second time in his entire life.  

But he never tells Toph any of these things.

It would upset her, Aang thinks, even if she’s just a wispy silhouette in his arms at this point.

He holds Toph until her spirit disappears with one last laugh that makes him feel like a kid again. He contemplates searching for her, like he’d done the years before, but he knows he won’t find her again. As much as he hates the significance of this day – hates it so much – it’s the only day where she comes back to him.

‘

(“Toph,” he rasps out shakily, the world around them falling silent. “Toph. Try to stay awake, please, please, Katara’s coming—”

He’s not a healer – he doesn’t have Katara’s gifts – but he presses water-gloved hands to the open wound in her chest anyway, willing it to do anything. Under his ministrations, the bleeding doesn’t stop and his breath hitches frantically in his throat.

A hand touches his cheek, trembling with the effort of keeping it pressed there. “Aang.”

Enough.

“No,” Aang chokes, distraught. “Toph, no—”

“I was supposed to watch the kids today,” she murmurs, so, so quiet, her chest stuttering. “You had that meeting with—”

“Fuck the meeting,” Aang cuts her off. “You’re – you’re going to be okay. We’re going to go home after this and when you finish healing, we’ll leave Republic City for a while – just you, me, Gyatso and Tenzin. You always said you wanted to travel again, so why not start now? We’ll go anywhere you want, I promise.”  

Toph’s smile is tiny and exhausted, and his vision of her begins to blur all around. “Tell the boys that I love them. T-That they’re my favorite people in the entire world. I know Tenzin’s still young and he probably won’t – he won’t remember me, but tell hi—”

“He will remember you because you’ll be telling that to him yourself.”

“Appa and Momo too. Tell them they’re good boys.”

The water is useless, so he tosses it to the side. When he feels Toph’s hand slipping from his face, Aang folds his hand over hers and shifts his head to kiss her palm desperately. Toph makes eye contact with him for once and even if she can’t see him, her gaze makes him crumple over her like a broken puppet, a shuddering sob leaving him.

“Stay with me,” Aang begs, his brow rested against hers. “I can’t do any of this without you. Please, Toph.”  

Toph inhales quickly. “I love you, Twinkle—”

And she stills in his arms completely, leaving him, her last breath wasted on trying to finish the rest of his nickname.)

‘

It’s sunset when Aang leaves the swamp, head bowed down to a grief that’s become a second layer of skin on him.

He’s surprised to find his friends surrounding the area where he’d left Appa outside.

“You come here every year,” Katara points out gently, immediately pulling Aang into her arms and letting him lean against her. “It wasn’t that hard to find you, knowing that fact. Do you still see her?”

“It’s the only time I see her,” he replies, bending to press his wet cheek against her shoulder. “You guys didn’t have to come.”

A large palm on the space of his shoulders, pressing lightly. “Of course we did, buddy,” Sokka chimes in, his smile tweaked by sadness. “We didn’t want you to be alone. And we thought that...maybe you’d be open to a new tradition on this day?”

Aang lifts his head, wiping at his tears. “What is it?”

“You know the underground arena that still holds the Earth Rumble tournaments?” Katara asks, her eyes overly bright and averted from the swamp behind Aang, like she’s trying so very hard not look for flashes of a pale woman with a flying boar herself. “Zuko convinced the new owner to open it just for the five of us for the rest of the night. It was To— it was one of her favorite places.”

She struggles even now to say Toph’s name out loud, and Aang understands. After her passing, it had taken him two years to be able to say her name without falling apart.

“We could have our own Earth Rumble,” Sokka says, “but with, you know, all the elements, a boomerang and a couple of fans.”

“You’re forgetting about earth,” Aang replies, but he feels the corners of his mouth twitching upward against his will.

“There’s an easy fix for that! I’ll chuck rocks at you. Or maybe Suki will because she has better aim anyway.”

Suki sneaks in from the side, slipping a comforting arm around Aang’s waist. “Only if you want to do this, Aang. It’s okay if you don’t. None of us wanted to be alone today, really.”

The memory of Toph would be all over that underground arena and it would hurt still. Spirits, it would hurt so much. But it’s better than being alone.  

He passes his gaze over to Zuko - who’s sitting on top of Appa’s head with the reins clutched tightly in his pale hands, who has his face turned away to hide his swollen eyes and blotchy cheeks, who had taken Toph’s death the hardest after Aang.

“I’d like to imagine that she’d be cheering us on from the other side while we all fight each other,” Suki adds, wistful. “And laughing when we get our asses kicked.”

Yes, Toph would do that.

“Okay,” Aang says on long exhale. “Let’s do it.”

‘

Aang steps into the arena after the rest of them pile onto it and smiles tearfully at the worn earth beneath his bare feet—

(“Somebody’s a little light on his feet. What’s your fighting name - the Fancy Dancer?”)

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Core Drive - Clean: 1.04

A/N: Having conquered the tip of the iceberg, Zeke gets Logan to take a deeper dive beneath the surface, forcing him to face the things that he hadn’t even realize were stunting his progress. This one honestly took a lot out of me to write, but it’s nothing compared to the next- and last- two pieces in this first section. Yikes. Hang in there, folks. 

Warning: mention of suicide, drug use and addiction, alcohol, depression and language. 

Word Count: 7,000 

“Did you want to end things that night, Logan?” 

Ezekiel’s question cut through the static filling Logan’s ears, and drew his focus away from the wide leaves of the potted plant hanging behind the man’s desk. It’s called a nerve plant, Zeke had told him during one of their first one on one meetings. It had caught Logan’s eye then and had become a default focal point for him anytime he found himself occupying the purple armchair opposite his counselor. For him, it was easier to open up and answer difficult questions if half of his brain was busy following the weblike patterns branching off of the leaves’ sturdy midrib in thin wisps curling and reaching for the edges. It’s got some pretentious scientific name, Zeke had gone on, gesturing behind himself at the plant with the arm of his glasses pinched between thumb and forefinger. But I like “nerve plant”. You know, if I watered it with black water those veins would turn black. Interesting, isn’t it?  

Logan blinked, the intricate network of spidery white veins winding through the dark green foliage vanishing with the memory of Zeke’s explanation of the plant. He glanced down at his left forearm where his own web of veins used to be much more visible; purplish blue threads unraveling under the skin. He thought about them turning black like Zeke’s plant and it made him cringe. With a shake of his head he looked back up to answer the question. “No.” 

They’d been discussing the events that had sent Logan down his current path, specifically the night of his first overdose- the night of Juliet and William’s wedding. There were things that had proved easier to share in group meetings; the dynamics of his relationship with his father, the debaucherous things he’d gotten up to in the park, the fact that he’d first experimented with painkillers after the death of his mother had left a jagged hole in his heart that grew larger each day until the Vicodin he had leftover from having his wisdom teeth removed showed him a way to close it. Daddy issues. Promiscuity. Addiction via dentistry. All things that he had in common with many of the men and women he sat in group sessions with, and therefore safe and simple to share. But just as he suspected that he’d never know everything about Dawn or Brian or any of them- Not even Miguel- there were parts of his past and his recovery that belonged only to him, that he could share only when he sat where he was sitting now. Especially the parts that included you. He blinked again, the residual phantom wisps of the nerve plant’s veins disappearing behind his closed lids, your tear streaked face filling his memory instead. 

I’ve never been that scared, Logan. Never. 

Your voice filled his mind and reached down into his chest, just like it did when you spoke those words to him that night, and the corners of his eyes started to sting. I never meant to do that to you. I never meant for you to be hurt by this.

 “I never meant to…”

He hadn’t realized that words were coming out of his mouth, and he trailed off as he lifted his face to lock eyes with Zeke. With a sigh he continued. “No, I didn’t want to die that night, I just…” He returned his gaze to the plant with a shake of his head as everything he felt that night surged to the surface. Fuck. 

Across from Logan, Zeke uncrossed his long legs and leaned forward to brace his elbows on the desk. There was a near constant covering of handwritten notes, printed pages and drawings that littered Zeke’s workspace. At first Logan turned his nose up to see such clutter in an office- a space that was slated for productivity. In the beginning of his time here, he felt himself judging the man for his disorganized piles and non alphabetized book shelves bursting with more books than they were built to hold, but he quickly realized that he hadn’t a leg to stand on. My office at Delos is...was fucking pristine and it didn’t keep me in line. The pages beneath Zeke’s elbows rustled as he adjusted their position, removing his glasses and folding his arms. “Logan. You know I’m not gonna force you to talk about it. This isn’t some eat your peas or you can’t leave the table bullshit, you know that.” 

That got a strangled chuckle from Logan. “Good. I always fuckin’ hated peas.” 

Zeke blew air through his nostrils in a laugh and nodded. “Yeah, me too. My old man would always force me to eat every goddamn pea. Only made me hate them more.” 

“There a point coming soon here, Zeke?” I know there is, so let’s get to it. Logan shifted his weight, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head to the side. “I know I’m not here to talk about vegetables.” 

“Not unless vegetables were what tipped the scales that night, no.” Zeke was a professional at walking the thin line between sarcastic and asshole, directly down the narrow avenue to the capital T truth. “Look, Logan.” He pressed his hands together, lacing the fingers of his left with those of his right, pointers steepled and thumbs tucked into his palms. “You’ve been here four and a half months now. And you’re really doing great. I see it, and I know you see it too.” 

Logan had to agree. Aside from the fact that he was in the best shape of his life, he was starting to allow himself the time and space and mess it took to heal. He was learning that asking for help wasn’t a weakness, and that feeling things- even the painful things- was part of what it meant to be alive. He learned that burying those things in bullshit only allowed the hurt to fester and spread into every other part of him. It was a short term solution, the relief as fleeting and dangerous as any other poison that he pumped himself full of. “Thanks, Zeke. I-” 

Ezekiel pulled his palms apart and held one hand up, cutting Logan off. “You’re doing really great, but…” One eyebrow arched as he tilted his head, and Logan knew what was coming next. “But unless you get into the thick of it? The real thick of it?” He placed both hands back on his desktop, his piercing hazel-green eyes sharply focused on Logan’s. “You’re just spinnin’ your wheels. And I know that’s not you.” 

Zeke was right again. Logan had also learned that Ezekiel and Miguel knew him better than almost anyone else in the world. Better than anyone who worked for him, better than his father- even better than Jules. Ache sliced through his chest as he added his sister to the list of strangers in his life. It wasn’t always like that. We used to… we were close once. He knew that there had been more than a few things that had driven wedges into the cracks in his relationship with Juliet, but he also knew that none of them were nearly as detrimental to it as William had been. The familiar stinging in the corner of his eyes and the tight clenching in his chest that always came along with thoughts of the seemingly innocuous blonde haired, blue-eyed shit bag that had destroyed what was left of his happiness threatened to take hold. 

But just as quickly as the pain swept through his heart, your name floated through his mind and he closed his eyes. She knows me. He let that thought wash over him like a wave, quelling the smoldering embers that never seemed to cool completely. It had been almost five months since he’d seen or spoken to you. 136 days. He’d kept track of more than his progress since arriving in North Carolina’s Outer Banks, counting the days since the last time he’d felt your palm pressed to his chest or your lips brushing the skin behind his ear as you tried to keep him anchored in the moment with you. 

That’s it, that’s what she...why she was… she was my anchor. It wasn’t clear to him in the beginning, because he wasn’t looking for something so solid, so grounding and stable. He wasn’t looking for understanding or acceptance when he met you, but he’d found all of those things just the same. I just didn’t know it then… not like… not like I do now. Not even when he added a photo of you to his pocket before venturing into the park. He closed his eyes, letting out a breath. I just couldn’t see it then.

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..

  Logan ran the edge of his front teeth over his bottom lip as he stepped closer to where you sat, thumb and forefinger of his left hand slipping beneath the thin gold chain around your right ankle. Goddamn, she’s… He heard you suck in a breath as the rest of his digits bent to wrap around the base of your foot. Watching as the glow of the underwater lights shimmied over the skin of your submerged shins, he felt himself give into the trancelike pull you had on him whenever he touched you. His right palm emerged from the water to slide up your other leg, fingertips pressing lightly into the muscle of your calf before climbing over your knee. Can’t keep my hands off her. Your sigh turned into a hum as he gently squeezed your thigh. And she doesn’t want me to.

“What are you doing, Delos?” From your tone he could tell that you were smirking, and before he even looked back up at you, he could see the way you were looking at him. 

Logan groaned quietly when he glanced up to find the exact expression on your face that he’d imagined. Eyes lingering on your lips as you pressed them together before letting them slowly part again, he eased his right hand up to your hip, thumb dragging along the elastic of your bathing suit bottoms. “You sure you don’t wanna join me for a swim?” He tightened the grip he had on your ankle and curled his fingers into the crease where your thigh met your hip. 

Your lips fell open and one eyebrow arched high as you tilted your head. A breathy sigh slipped out and for a second you were speechless, completely at the mercy of his hands on your body. Fuck, she...when she… It was one of his favorite sounds, and knowing how to pull it from you was one of his favorite skills. He groaned again as you reached forward to sweep the damp hair from his face, and suddenly it was you who had the upper hand, mischief twinkling like stars in your eyes.  “Wasn’t planning on getting wet tonight Logan.”  

“That so?” You shook your head, biting your bottom lip. Goddamn. “And,” He moved the hand that was at your hip around to the small of your back. “What makes you think staying out of the pool means you’re not gonna get wet, hmm?” He still had your ankle wrapped in his left hand, and he used it to open your legs wider, stepping as far between them as he could as he pushed you closer to the edge of the pool. “You tellin’ me you came here tonight just to sit there’n-” He leaned in, brushing his nose along your throat before dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin there, your hand dropping from the back of his head to squeeze the top of his shoulder. “Tease me?” 

You shrugged. “You tellin’ me you had something else in mind?” 

Plenty. His answer came in the form of a tug on your ankle, the hand at your back sliding under you as he pulled you into the water and against his chest. Your surprised shout of his name only spurred him on more, and he knew that you actually weren’t surprised at all even as the splash soaked your hair. You laughed, eyes wide as you wound your legs around his waist and draped your arms around his neck, and he pushed away from the side of the pool and out into the middle. He adjusted his hold on you with one hand, bringing the other up to your face. Thumb trailing over your lips, he stared straight at them, speaking your name. “I was thinkin’ we start here and…” Without fully removing his thumb, he brought his lips to yours, stopping just shy of kissing you. He could feel the warmth of your sudden exhale and it caused his smile to grow devilish. “See what happens.” He didn’t wait then, resuming motion and crashing his lips to yours. 

You responded immediately, kissing him hard as you gripped a fistful of his hair, twisting the strands around your knuckles. The hand he had on your cheek slid down to your throat, and he felt your moan vibrate against his palm. Jesus, I… Your thighs tightened around his body as you locked your ankles behind him, the water rippling as you rolled your hips into his. Fuck, she’s… this is… Your free hand pressed to the center of his chest, the tip of your middle finger tracing the dip of his clavicle, and he couldn’t hold back a groan. No one makes me feel like this. 

In the three and a half months since he’d met you, Logan hadn’t stopped seeing other people. He’d even taken someone to a gallery opening earlier that same night. Being seen out with a different date all over town was what everyone expected of Logan Delos, L.A.s most famous bachelor, and it was what he’d come to expect of himself, so he’d chosen a reliable date for the evening. But he’s not here with me right now, he’s not… He hadn’t stopped seeing other people, but he had stopped sleeping with them, stopped inviting them back to the pool or the guest house. Because they don’t… none of them are… He pulled away then, looking into your eyes as you stared back. What is it about her that I… 

“Hey.” You dropped your legs from his waist but kept your body flush to his. Logan kept both hands on you, keeping you close. 

He grinned, dipping his chin down to catch your lips in another quick kiss. You gasped against his lips as he answered. “Hey.” 

“So,” You reached behind yourself to untie the neck strap of your halter top, the dark material falling forward to expose your chest. Fuck me. He watched as you moved to the second strap, completely removing your bathing suit top and handing it to him. “What else did you have in mind?” 

Logan had shown you exactly what else crossed his mind then, tossing your top aside and reaching under the water to remove your bottoms while never breaking eye contact. Within seconds of asking your question he’d given you his answer, covering your mouth with his to devour the sighs that his fingers coaxed out of you. 

The two of you had stayed in the pool even after you’d collapsed into his shoulder, neither of you wanting to give up the way that the warm water felt as it lapped against your skin. The conversation had drifted through several topics before landing on his upcoming business trip. He mentioned that he would be taking some investors to the park for their first time. Wish I was takin’ her though...showin’ her around instead of…

“Does it ever scare you?” You straddled his waist, your arms draped over his shoulders as the two of you floated together. The bright silver light of the nearly full moon was muted behind a filmy cluster of clouds, but it reflected off of the cool water, shining on your wet skin and illuminating your eyes. 

Logan tilted his head to the side, regripping your thigh and adjusting the arm that he had wrapped around your back to hold you more securely. “Does what scare me?” 

You brought one hand up from his shoulder to the back of his head, water dripping from your fingertips as they threaded through his thick hair. He closed his eyes for half a second as your nails scratched lightly over his scalp, a breath escaping his slack smile as he blinked them back open again. Goddamn that’s fucking... “The park. How real it all is I mean.” What? He frowned and drew his eyebrows together questioningly, prompting you to continue. “That’s…” You sighed. “I mean, I know that’s the point, right? That it feels like you’re really…” you twirled your fingers absently in the hair at the base of his neck, your eyes focused somewhere in the sprawling darkness over his shoulder, teeth biting into your plump bottom lip. “That you’re really doing whatever it is you’re…” 

Logan leaned back so that he could intercept your eye-line, taking his hand from your back to gently turn your face towards his own. “With the Hosts you mean?” He shook his head, his wet touch trailing down your throat to dip back under the water and find a home on your body. “They’re just dolls, they can’t hurt anyone so there’s nothin’ to be-” 

“No, that’s not,” you let one hand slide down to the center of his chest, dropping your eyes down to follow your fingers as they spread out over his skin. “That’s not what I meant, Logan.” You brought your eyes back up and when you did he thought he saw a splash of concern coloring their depths. He squeezed your thigh, grip biting into your flesh with light pressure. “I mean… is it really good for it to feel that real? Does it scare you to think that it might be too realistic? That someone could get lost in it?”

Logan thought back to his first trip to the park; the way that the completely immersive experience blew his mind even knowing everything that he did about the Hosts and the synthetic world that they populated. He could still taste the adrenaline on his tongue, potent and pure like a shot of undiluted absinthe, put there by the click of a pistol hammer locking into place, the barrel aimed point blank at his chest. It felt like the bullet was swimming a slow backstroke through the hot, dusty desert air, and Logan felt his pupils double in size, felt himself tense up and brace for the impact. He swallowed that shot of adrenaline, and it set his teeth buzzing, sped up the tempo of his heartbeat. He knew it wasn’t real, but everything in his body was telling him that he was about to die. In that moment he froze, unable to even flinch as the smirking outlaw delivered some scripted line and pulled the trigger. A loud pop and a small cloud of gunpowder smoke registered with him just milliseconds before a blunt blow to his breastbone made him stumble backwards. 

“It’s designed to make you think,” he squeezed the bottoms of your thighs, “make you feel like it’s all... real. But it only works if everyone accepts that it isn’t. It’s,” he licked his lips and squinted his eyes. “Sure, it’s probably not good for everyone. But when the stakes feel… when they seem like they really matter? That’s when people find out who they really are.” 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

He didn’t tell you then that he safeguarded himself every time he set foot in the park by smuggling in a photo of someone close to him, someone that he could focus on to remind himself of what was actually real. Usually, it was a photo of his sister, the person that Logan felt closest to for most of his life. He didn’t tell you that he planned to bring a second picture on his next trip- one you’d sent him just a week prior, smiling at him from in front of the Golden Gate Bridge. 

It was the same photo he continued to take with him on every subsequent trip. It was the photo that he needed out in the desert, the realization that it was still in the pocket of his coat causing hysterical, tearless sobs to rip from his chest. It was the photo that he kept on his bedside table now. She was my… 

Hey, asshole, she’s not what we’re here to talk about, is she? 

Logan blinked, looking past Zeke’s potted plants to the slender figure leaning against the window sill, jacket unbuttoned, cut crystal tumbler of amber liquid in hand. Shit. 

He asked if you wanted to kill yourself that night. The figure pushed away from the window, gesturing with his glass, thumb and three fingers wrapped around it as he pointed at Logan. You know, the night of Juliet’s wedding? The night she fished you outta your damn pool ‘cause you- he took his pointed finger and jabbed it into the crook of his opposite elbow, droplets of dark brown liquor splashing onto his sleeve. And I’m lookin’ forward to this answer, cause I- 

“I didn’t want to fucking die, I just… I wanted to forget how I… how everything felt. I wanted to erase it but I couldn’t. I-” Logan didn’t realize he’d gotten to his feet, didn’t realize that the abrupt action cleared the room of his personal phantom, but he was left speaking only to Ezekiel, and speaking only what he knew to be true. Shaking his head, he pushed his hair back and paced around to stand behind the chair he’d been occupying during the session. “That night was… it was one of the worst nights of my life, Zeke.” He gripped the backrest and leaned forward. “My own sister’s fucking wedding night. Do you know, can you… do you know how that made me feel? That the entire time I was there, I wished I was anywhere fucking else, because my skin was crawling at the idea of that...that piece of shit crawling into my family, but I fucked up my chances at getting Jules to listen to me so… Fuck, Zeke, I… it felt how it did after my mom died, like I was alone, like no one would...and I wanted to feel anything other than the… the fucking pain.” 

He spat the last word with disdain as his voice wavered. Ezekiel sat quietly, eyes trained on Logan as he went on. “So I found what I needed and I fuckin… I got high, and I got drunk, and I would have died that night, whether it was what I wanted or not. I know that. I know that she…” Fuck. He swallowed a hard lump so he wouldn’t choke when he spoke your name, wanting it to come out clear. “I know she saved my life that night.” 

He shuddered as the most vivid moments from that night flashed in his memory- stumbling into a car with you, stripping off his jacket and shoving it over your shoulders as he cycled from deep chills to fiery sweats. He’d forgotten that his pocket held the empty vial, the nearly empty pill bottle. Somehow, you’d gotten him home, into his place, and he recalled tears- yours and his own. He refused to stay inside, that he remembered, too. I wanted to hear the ocean, I think. You had gone inside to get him a glass of water and… an aspirin, maybe?...apparently happy enough that you’d gotten him to lay down on one of the lounge chairs to leave him out of your sight. Dizzy...and slow...everything was slower than it should have been. He recalled the way his heart beat grew lazier. Then he heard a crash from inside, the sound of glass shattering ringing in his ear to jolt him from the nearly hypnotic state he was falling into. You, there you were, in the doorway, but when he tried to get to you his legs gave out and he fell. Your panicked shout of his name, and then the bright lights of the hospital. 

There was more, of course, more that he’d been told because there were giant gaps in his memory. A fight with Jim, William’s smug face as his arm wrapped around Juliet’s shoulder to pull her away from the scene her brother and father were causing, Juliet’s disappointed glance as you talked Logan into leaving. He was told, because he didn’t remember, that when he had stood from the lounge chair and fallen, he’d hit his head on the concrete and plunged into the pool, unconscious and bleeding. If you hadn’t been there, he would have drowned and the poison swimming through his bloodstream wouldn’t have mattered. 

But the rest of the night was burned into his brain, the details coming to him in cascades. Logan sat back down in the chair he’d paced around, head falling into his hands. “Logan?” Zeke was trying to prompt him to continue, but he didn’t need it, the rest playing out in high definition- you, sitting in a chair beside his bed, the same terrified look on your face that he first saw when you’d flown to the medical facility at the Mesa to be there for him after he’d been extracted from the desert. Jesus, she fuckin’...she...    

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..

“I…” your breath hitched as your eyes fell closed, and you brought your free hand up to swipe away the tears you could no longer hold back. When you blinked them open again, Logan saw everything he never wanted to put there- fear and hurt, uncertainty, and a sadness that didn’t belong where he was used to seeing such warmth. “I felt something in the pocket so I pulled it out and-” You closed your eyes and sucked in a breath, opening them as you released the air through your nose. “As soon as I realized what it was...and then that it was empty?” You shook your head and winced. “I didn’t think, Logan, I just… I knew I had to get to you. Fast, and…” 

That’s when I heard the glass break… She must have dropped it when... He tried to force his focus and recall the rest of the details so you wouldn’t have to go through it again. 

“God, Logan, I was sc-“ your voice broke, splintering into a ragged breath and you shook your head swallowing hard. Without unlacing your fingers from his, you brought your linked hands up to wipe at your exhausted, puffy pinkish eyes, dampening his skin with your stray tears. “I was terrified. I thought... I thought I was too late. I thought that you were-“ you took a breath and he saw your chest shake as you let it back out. I know. I know what you thought. At first he didn’t think you were going to finish your sentence, but then your eyes locked on to his and you continued. “I thought you were d-“ you took another brief pause while you shuffled through your vocabulary, looking for a word that presented less of a choking hazard. “Gone, Logan. I’ve never…” You dissolved into tears again, head going back and forth as though you could banish the emotions. When you spoke again your voice was barely a whisper, but the pain in it echoed in his heart. “I’ve never been that scared, Logan. Never.” 

Though you’d returned your hand and his to the bed, he felt more of your tears falling fat and wet on his knuckles, rolling over and between his fingers. “Hey.” His throat was raw and dry, the single word burning on its way out. But I have to… she needs to hear this. He rubbed his thumb lightly against the underside of your wrist and as he did, everything you’d been holding together came undone. “Hey,” he said again, this time adding your name. “I know… I know. But you weren’t, okay? You weren’t too late and I’m-“ He glanced at his free hand, the back of it stuck with needles for IVs, a pulse oximeter clamped over one finger, wires and tubes attaching to machines and bags. The nurse had warned him that moving too much would cause the needle to shift under the skin of his bony hand. Fuck it, I don’t care if it hurts. He lifted it and brought that hand up to wipe beneath your eyes so he could keep the other one wrapped in yours. The sharp prick and uncomfortable tug of the tubing attached to the needle vanished as he felt your breath hit his fingertips. He said your name again, fighting to keep his tone as even as possible. “Hey, come here.” I need to… need her to… He rallied against the thick, heavy feeling in his limbs and slid over making room in the small bed. 

“What are you… are you sure, Logan? I-“ your forehead creased with worry as he moved but he nodded and squeezed the hand he still held, and it was all you needed. You stood and carefully climbed into the bed with him, both of you turned on your hips and faces only inches apart. 

Logan rested the side of his nose against yours as you closed your eyes, his palm laying to the side of your head. A small whine left your throat and he felt a fresh stream of tears starting up. He wanted to tell you that it was alright; that you weren’t too late, that everything was okay and that he would be fine. But it’s not. She never should have had to… He felt his eyes sting as his tears ran to mix with yours, and in lieu of the words he wanted to say, he pressed his lips over your wet cheeks, whispering your name and stroking your hair until you fell asleep. 

Once he felt your chest stop shuddering and the strained, painful, torn sound of each exhale had faded into a more rhythmic pattern, Logan looked down at your hand over his heart. She deserves better than this. But even as he had the thought he could hear you telling him that he did too. You had been his lifeline in the weeks since his last trip, and while he knew that you deserved more of him than the broken down version that came back from the desert, he knew that no one deserved the torture he’d been dealt, the lies that had been spun, the damage that had taken a sledgehammer to the things he worked so hard for so long to keep in check. And he knew that you understood. He knew that you seemed to be the only one that did. Could she…

His door opened then, a nurse entering the room to change the bag of fluids attached to his I.V. and he quickly changed his thoughts, shutting them down before they had a chance to cause any more trouble. No. 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

But he knew now that you did. You loved him. There was no other conceivable reason for you to have been there for as much as you had been if you didn’t love him, unconditionally and without expectation. “She… Jesus, Zeke, she loved me and I was too blind to see it, I...I made myself too blind to see it, I…” Fuck. “I missed it and now…” Logan looked back up at the man sitting on the opposite side of the cluttered desk, the long green tendrils of his plant collection hanging behind him like a thin curtain as late afternoon sunlight filtered in. Say something, tell me how to-

“You don’t talk about her much, Logan. Almost five months in, and this is maybe the,” Ezekiel shrugged, scrunching his nose to make his glasses ride up. “Third?” He looked up to the ceiling then back down at Logan nodding. “Yeah, this is only the third time I’ve heard you talk about her. See,” he leaned on the points of his elbows, palms bladed and directed at Logan. “I’ve heard you talk about your father. And I’ve heard you talk about your sister and her husband.” Logan felt his top lip curl and he knew Zeke picked up on it. “You do a real good job, Logan, at talkin about the people who hurt you. And I think that’s part of why you’ve been able to come so far, I really do.” Alright, but what do they have to do with- “But talkin about the people that mean something to you? That seems harder for you. His eyes narrowed and he folded his arms on top of his desk. “I don’t think you missed it, Logan. I think you knew that she...and if you ever gave her just a fraction of what I see when you do talk about her, there’s no way she missed it either.” 

Logan’s breath came out in a strangled sigh as he nodded. It was still uncomfortable for him to have to rehash all of the things he’d kept buried for so long, uncomfortable to have someone so able to read and anticipate and guide him through it, but Zeke was right about this just as he was right about most things. “That’s why I didn’t...I wasn’t trying to kill myself, Zeke. I knew I wasn’t alone. I knew I had her even if I wasn’t… even if I didn’t…” he shook his head slowly. “I didn’t let myself think that I deserved her. I didn’t let myself have her, not like she… not like I should have, because I was fucking scared of what would happen when I...when I lost her.” Shit, that’s...I never fucking said that before but it’s… 

“It's easier for you to believe what everyone else says about you than it is for you to believe that you can prove them wrong.” What? Logan gripped the arms of the chair he sat in, sweaty palms slipping over the smooth wood. “At least, that’s what I think.” Ezekiel tilted his head and sat back. “What do you think about that?” 

Initially Logan wanted to argue, to deny the unflattering truth that Ezekiel had uncovered. But he’s right I… Surprising himself, a hollow laugh slipped from his lips, his shaking hand swiping downward over his bearded chin. “No that’s...that’s right. I… when its a fight I know I can win, I’m fucking relentless. I fight like hell on business deals and shit that ultimately means fuckall. But when it’s something I can lose I just…” He trailed off, thoughts drifting to the point in time when he decided that Juliet had become a losing battle. 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

Logan stood staring at his sister, heart dropping as he watched his words of warning about William, about their father,  fall flat on Juliet’s face. Again. 

She scoffed, looking away. “Don’t be ridiculous, Logan.” Raising her left hand, she laid her palm to her forehead and scrubbed it harshly backwards over the crown of her head, fingers curling to grip a fistful of hair. Her head shook from side to side, and the cold, white light of the moon struck the many facets of the emerald cut diamond that she wore. He winced as the light bounced off of her ring and into his eyes, burning her engagement to William and everything that it stood for into them. “Dad wouldn’t…” Dad wouldn’t. There’s nothing that man wouldn’t do, Juliet. She dropped her hand from her head, letting it slap against the alabaster railing, the band of her ring clinking when it hit the stone. She shook her head again and turned to face him, leaning back against the banister. “He’s my father, Logan. I know you two have had your problems, but-” What?

“Had our problems?! Jules, come on you know it-” 

She cut him right back off, stepping away from the banister and towards him. “Don’t call me Jules, Logan. We're not kids anymore.” The anger and frustration that he’d been hiding behind proved thinner than he thought, her words splintering it like cheap plywood, the hurt he’d tried to tuck away seeping through the cracks. He swallowed and took a staggering step backwards.  No. No we’re not. 

Juliet sighed and closed her eyes, looking at least half sorry for the biting tone she’d just used. She opened them and when she did he saw sheer exhaustion in them- exhaustion from dealing with him, with the way that things had been going since he’d last been to the park and the relentless way that he kept poking and pulling at her relationship. Not how anyone should look the week before their wedding. “Look. I know that you think Dad is some,” she blinked slowly, twirling her hand- her right this time, no twelve carat rock to catch the icy light. “Some monster. But he’s...he lo-” 

Tears had started forming in Logan’s eyes but he hadn’t noticed them until they’d fallen on his curled top lip. ”He doesn’t love anything but his company! He doesn’t love me, he didn’t love mom,” she opened her mouth but he didn’t let her get a word out. “And if you think he loves you, after giving you his blessing to marry him, you’re-” 

“What do you mean, he doesn’t love you?” Her voice had quieted, and where she’d been frustrated and frantic before, he watched his sister deflate, the exhaustion spilling from her eyes to wash over her entire face. “Of course he-” 

“He told me to get the fuck out of his house, Juliet. Did you know that? When I… after,” he narrowed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. Just say it. “The first time? After mom?” He saw pain flash through his sister’s eyes and he knew it was just as multifaceted as the rock on her hand. She hadn’t been home when their mother silently slipped away, and while Logan had to carry the weight of telling Juliet, she had to  carry the guilt of not being there in those final moments. And then when she did get home, she had hardly any time to grieve before she’d found her brother slumped over and barely breathing in the pool house. I know it hurts, Jul. But you have to listen. Please. “I tried to ask him for help. And you know what he said?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. He knew she didn’t know because he knew he never told her. “He said he wouldn’t waste his time on a junkie like me.” He shook his head. “That’s not love. That’s not a father thats-”  

The door slid open  behind them and Logan stiffened, his back straightening. Fuck. He looked  to Juliet, begging her with his eyes to tell the other man to go back inside, to give them more time. To fuck off. But he saw it in her face- saw the moment that she decided that it wasn’t worth the fight, that choosing William and Jim here meant choosing the easiest path through rough terrain. It was the moment he gave up that fight, too. 

“Everything okay out here?” Syrupy sweet like condensed milk, the voice that tormented him in the desert hit Logan’s ear and all the fight in him drained out. He chanced one last look at Juliet only to see her staring at her feet as William’s hand curled around her bicep, tugging her to his side. Logan heard the man press a smacking kiss to his sister’s temple and he winced, remembering how maniacally infatuated he had become with a Host in the park, how easily he’d tossed his sister aside then only to use her as a prop now. “Logan, I didn’t know you were here.” He snapped his head up then, eyes locking with the icy blue pair staring back at him. “To what do we owe the-”

“I was just fuckin leaving, Billy.” His eyes moved from William’s to Juliet’s, the slightest bit of satisfaction from the man’s distaste of the nickname not eclipsing the fact that his sister was still choosing the ground instead of him. Ouch, Jules...damn. “You  two have a good fuckin night.” 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..          

“When it’s something I can lose… I don’t even fight.” The words felt heavy and hard as he spoke them, a  buzzing in his brain that wasn’t there when he’d first sat down in Zeke’s office. Shit. “I give up...I...I gave up on, on myself.” I didn’t want to lose everything- my place at Delos, Juliet… your name swirled through his mind then, right up there with the other things that he cared enough about to be wounded by. So I just...quit. That’s...fuck that’s not… “That’s not who I am.” 

The revelation came quietly as he looked down at his forearm. That’s not...that doesn’t define you. A shiver ran down his spine as he felt your fingertips brush over the bruising on the inside of his elbow. That’s not who you are, Logan. When he’d finally told you everything about his ongoing struggle with addiction, all you’d done was try to make him see that he was worth the fight. That he, Logan Delos, was worth saving. 

I didn’t see it then. But I… I see it now. 

“Well then you better start fighting again, Logan.” Ezekiel called him back to the present, the man calmly removing his glasses to clean the lenses. “You better start fighting for what you know you deserve, because if you do? If you fight the way I know you can, the way that she knows you can...the way you know you can?” He inspected his glasses before perching them back on his nose. “If you fight and you keep fighting? There’s no way you can lose, Logan. No damn way.”

.

.

.

@something-tofightfor @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @malionnes @suchatinyinfinity @gollyderek @thesumofmychoices @belladonnarey @ymariejp @obscurilicious @songtoyou @traeumerinwitzhelden @drinix @jigsawlover10 @getlostinyourparadise @nananananananananananabatman @vetseras​ @qhostboyyy @pheedraws​ @alraedesigns​ @valkblue​ @dearmarii​