#maybe i could buy a massage gun. or like.. what can i even DO about scar tissue moving around in my body

[fingertipsmp3]

The good news is I accomplished my mission of buying trousers, the bad news is my knee is SUPER unhappy about it

[gravegoer]

Do you write for Grayson by any chance? I really wished we got see more of her before her unfortunate demise

Sevika , Ambessa , Grayson ⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

i write for anyone! and you can request a separate thing for grayson if you'd like but I decided to do the 3 butches in 1 so here's some random stuff for them

council member sevika fic

Ambessa doesn't love often, but when she does, she loves HARD.

Since you're close to her, she is constantly worried people about hurting you to get to her.

You might have enforcers on you 24/7 unless you tell her to stop and if that's the case. She will follow you around herself. Making sure people know you are always under a close watch by her.

When you walk in public together, she likes you to have your arms wrapped around her bicep/forearm, keeping you as close as possible.

If that's not in your taste she will sling a heavy arm over your shoulder, careful not to weigh you down.

She is always buying you expensive and lavish clothing. If your gaze lingers on anything for too long, you'll see it at your doorstep the next day.

When you see a nice shop you like she's going to take you in and make you try on clothes for her. Putting her hand on your waist as she spins you around. Inviting you to stand between her spread legs so she can see the details better.

If you like to wear heels and your feet start to get tired, she will sit you down and take them off your feet herself, opting to carry you around for the next few hours.

When she carries you, you can see all the scars on her arms and face in full detail. She doesn't seem to mind your staring and might even take pride in herself.

As you're cuddling, she loves it when you trace your fingers over her scars, admiring every bump and edge. She will tell you dramatic stories about how she got them. (Definitely exaggerating some details.)

You could talk together for ages, bringing up random stories and irrelevant details. Her rough hands combing through your hair, or massaging your shoulders.

This was a weekly thing in the hot springs. She sits on the ledge above you while your shoulders slot themselves between her thick, scarred thighs.

She will take care of you without expecting anything back, but she definitely loves it when you return the favor. She will rest her head on your thighs and groan in pleasure when you massage her temples or scalp.

Grayson is a romantic, she will be showing up at your door with flowers in hand.

If she met you in Zaun, she will insist on taking you out on a fancy dinner date at her favorite Piltover resteraunt.

If you refuse, that's okay too. She's fine with eating at any of Zaun's resteraunts. (Just not seafood, please.)

She's asking you what your favorite flower is so she can bring you those instead next time.

And if you are a Zaunite, she isn't ashamed of your relationship, showing you off proudly. After all, all the enforcers do look up to her. What are they going to do?

If you don't know how to shoot, she will be more than pleased to teach you. Your back is pressed against her warm chest as she wraps her arms around you to hold the gun steady.

Her rough voice firmly commands you on where to put your hands and which parts do what.

Speaking of her voice, she knows you love it when she whispers sweet nothings in your ear before you drift off to sleep. Her muscled arm cushioning your head and cradling you close to her chest.

It's easy for her to fall asleep once she knows you're safe and comfortable. (That's why she insists on moving in together.

Actually, she insists on doing a lot of things together. For example, she appreciates when you work out with her, sitting on her back while she does pushups, or maybe spotting her while she presses some weight. (Not that she needs it. She just wants you close)

She instructs you on what workouts you can do and where to place her hands, maybe placing hers on yours for a bit too long.

You can see the sweat gleam on her forehead and the veins in her forearm after every set she completes. This is a sight you can grow to appreciate.

She definitely subtlety flexes when you touch her arm or basically anywhere else she can possibly bring herself to flex. (You notice)

Sevika is the gentlest giant. At first, you might assume her tone is rough and condescending. But after some time, you start to see through her facade.

Her tone around is more firm and calm. It's more around you than anyone else. She tries not to get aggressive or angry with you.

And if she does, she's immediately making it up to you in every way but saying "sorry"

She's bringing you your favroite foods, giving you a little more affection than usual, reluctantly letting you fidget with her mechanical arm.

She does take you out to places, albeit not the fanciest. She makes do with what Zaun has to offer. Buying you a drink at the bar or a trip across the city.

Although she's not really a big fan of PDA, she will let you hold her arm while walking around Zaun. She swears it's a safety precaution to make sure no creeps get close.

When she plays cards at the bar, you are always beside her, no arguements. She doesn't want you sitting by any of the other shady men that play with her.

Maybe if there is few enough people you can sit in her lap and light her cigarillo for her.

What you don't do in public is definitely made up for in private.

She lays on your lap after a long day, taking deep inhales into your stomach to calm down. Grabbing your hand, she'll encourage you to run your fingers through her hair.

Let's you hold her face in your hands and trace her intricate scar while her eyes are closed, completely letting her guard down.

Her large hand engulfs your own as she cradles your hand close to her face, imprinting this memory in her mind.

Just know she is extremely touch starved. Most of the touching she gets all day is punches and kicks, nothing close to the gentle sweep of your fingers on her exposed skin.

She isn't a big gift giver, but if you give her a neat suprise, like an expensive zippo or a new shirt (God knows she needs one) you swear you see a small tear in the corner of her eye. Maybe its just the light.

But who cares because her lips will immediately be on yours, engulfed in a hot kiss.

i feel like sevika needed more screen time in the last act but its okay as long as she didn't die...

[earthry]

First of all, I wanted to say how much I love your writing! Every time I see that you posted something its easily one of the highlights of my day!

If I may, could I maybe ask how would the Papas handle someone who suffers from chronic pain, especially back pain? If you dont want to answer thats ofc fine too!! Thank you :)

Thank you so much!! I'm very happy to hear I can brighten someone's day with my work <3

Here you go, please enjoy!

sfw, hurt/comfort, fluff, disclaimer: writing with my own experience with chronic pain, other's experiences may be different.

Primo

This old man knows exactly how it feels to have aches and pains-- though your afflictions are not the same, he does understand. The two of you help each other on your bad days, it's very sweet. If it's a rough day for you, he will help you with anything you have trouble with using your mobility. If your back pain makes it hard to be up, he'll bring everything to you. Vice versa when he's having a bad day, you'll be the one to assist him (and if it's so bad that he can't tend to the garden that day, you'll go do it for him for his peace of mind).

If you're both having a bad day? It's a day in bed and you take your medication together with fancy little wine glasses (filled with water only-- don't mix meds with alcohol). He'll break out your matching heating pads and put your favorite show on the TV in your bedroom. Primo calls one of his brothers to make sure the garden is tended to for the day.

If you have wrist pain and have trouble opening things, well probably don't ask Primo because peepaw's strength ain't too much better. Both of you go begging to Secondo to open your jars and if it's a cheat day and you're using canned pasta sauce (which Primo only accepts when making it from scratch is too much for the two of you), you'll go to one of the ghouls to open it instead least Secondo bites your heads off.

TLDR your entire relationship is built on love and understanding and helping each other when the occasion arises. You never judge each other for what you can do one day and can't do the next. Support, encouragement, and communication are very important to the two of you.

Secondo

Secondo is a menace with his credit card. He will buy you everything and anything that could and can help your chronic pain. He's not the best at emotional comfort but he tries to support you and care for you in the ways he knows how to. And that includes buying you countless muscle rubs, heating pads and cushions, bath soaks and soaps, massage guns, braces and wraps, so many rolls of athletic tape, and anything else that may help.

Of course it's way more than you need but he will insist that he is stocking you up just in case you need it someday. You almost feel like one of those coupon moms that buy things in bulk.

Very good with his hands and an expert at kneading the tension from your body. Even if your chronic pain doesn't flair every day, he'll make it a routine to give you a massage every night before bed.

Speaking of routines, he'll run you a hot bath every night (unless you're not feeling like it) and add epsom salt plus the essential oils he got from Primo that are supposed to help your muscles relax. He'll make sure you get a good soak in and slowly wash your hair for you, lathering expensive shampoo in your hair and massaging your scalp.

Once you're all clean and ready for bed, he'll give you your massage while you doze in bed. If you have a cream that helps relieve muscle pain or something similar, he'll often use that while he rubs your back or anywhere needed. You're often fast asleep by the time he's done and he'll give you a good night forehead kiss before sliding into bed to join you.

Terzo

My favorite HC for Terzo is that his love language is acts of service. Physically showing you that he loves you, cares about you. It ties into the fact that these are all things he wishes someone would love him enough to do too (and you do).

He knows cooking is strenuous for you on bad pain days; that's why he's always willing to drop everything to make you a decent meal. He'll bring it to you no matter where you are, and even on days that you might be able to cook he'll want to do it for you anyways. He pulls out his most beloved recipes for you and makes your favorites.

Sometimes you'll sit in the kitchen with a heated blanket and some pillows that Terzo has brought in to help you be comfier, just to keep him company. As long as your pain is bearable enough to move to the kitchen, you try to be there just as much as he does for you. You can see from the expression on his face the first time you drag your achey body from your room to the kitchen that he's starstruck. It means a lot to him when you take the time to be there with him. Of course, he fusses over you to make sure you're not in pain and not pushing yourself by moving all the way there. He will smother you in love and care.

He may be very talented with his fingers (wink wink) but this man has no idea how to give a good massage; in fact he's often too afraid that he will hurt you by pushing or pressing on you too hard. But he does his best! He watches some youtube tutorials and looks up how-to's online. Be patient with him and he will slowly become an expert at it. He's very proud of himself the first time you absolutely melt under his hands, the pain easing just a little. Of course it won't fix everything but in the moment it feels so nice.

Copia

He's very worried at first; he doesn't know about the chronic pain and at the beginning he's worried that something is very very wrong and tries to urge you to see a doctor (or two or three because your man is a worryrat).

You soothe him and reassure him that nothing serious is wrong-- whatever issue you have that is causing your chronic pain is either already taken care of or being addressed. There's nothing you can do about it right now.

Does anything he can to help alleviate your pain. Helps massage your back or wrist or where ever you may need it. He'll buy heating pads for you and those cute little stuffed animals that have a pouch for a heating pack (or that you microwave to heat up).

Gets sad sometimes especially when he's done everything he can and the only thing he can't do is directly take the pain way (by the unholy lord does he wish he could though).

Sometimes you catch him looking distraught when you're laying in bed or having trouble with something and you call him over to reassure him that you're okay. Sure you're hurting, but you don't want your loved ones around you to hurt too, not when they don't need to.

He loves you so much, does anything he can to help. Sometimes you're afraid of asking for too much or that he'll get tired of taking care of you but he never does and he will remind you every day that he loves you and loves taking care of you because he wants you happy and safe. There is no such thing as asking for too much for him.

[onboardsorasora]

massaging or sitting in the others lap!

Sorry I took forever with this Anonstie, I wanted to do both but couldn't think of the right scenario. But we got there and I hope you like it!!

They were in the wilderness, awake early and posted up on the hunting stand in the middle of a clearing right before sunrise. Daniel was so tired, he blearily noted the majestic rising of the sun behind the mountain range to their right? Left? It didn’t matter

It was early, ass crack o'clock to be exact and Max looked too bright eyed and bushy tailed for someone who had gotten even less sleep than Daniel himself received.

They had arrived last night at the house– it was a little more than a cabin but just not as rustic. It had been in the family for years now and had been updated when Max and Victoria were kids. Daniel was always thankful for the indoor plumbing and recent addition of wifi. Max's dad, Jos, had prepped the place for them, knowing that Max would make the pilgrimage into the wilds for his birthday no matter what. It was tradition he would say.

Max had told him many times about how much fun it had been growing up and the weekend trips they would take up the mountain since his birthday was in the peak of bird hunting season. And of course, Victoria continued the tradition with Lio and Luka. 

Daniel…well he didn’t hate hunting, but he thought it was a lot of effort when they could wake up later in the same cabin and go hiking to a spot in the hills at a more reasonable time.

The first flight of birds leaving their nests for food had already passed, Max had had a stellar shoot, they would have a fine lunch. Maybe dinner. Then he passed the shotgun to Daniel and (once again) taught him how to hold it and aim. 

They did this every year, and every year as soon as they went back home, Daniel forgot how to shoot. Not only was it just not his sport, he simply looked forward to the massage he got from Max afterwards. So he liked his boyfriend’s hands on him, sue him.

While Vic took the boys down to the nearby stream, Max sat on a wooden bench and pulled Daniel to sit on his lap. Daniel leaned into him, clutching Max’s arms that wrapped around his camo clad belly.

“Fine shootn’ today Maxy Max.” Daniel tried to use a Texan accent when they went hunting. It started as a joke and the boys absolutely loved it.

Max smiled a crinkly faced smile, he also got a kick out of it. “Of course, I have been shooting since I was Luka’s age.” 

“A fine cowboy you’d make.”

Max snorted, “always, you are silly Daniel. But yes, I can provide for my family out in the wilderness.” Max rolled his eyes obnoxiously.

“Well you know what they say, save a horse…” Daniel grinned and turned so he was sitting across Max’s legs. He threw his arms around Max’s shoulders, wincing slightly as he did, he truly never got used to the kickback of the old shotgun Max used.

“Are you sore?” Max sprung into action, pressing his thumbs softly into the tender tissue much to Daniel’s relief. “You didn’t cup it close enough, you always forget I think.” Max murmured, his focus honed in on making sure Daniel was ok.

“I’ll cup you close enough.” Daniel teased in reply, grinning at Max’s snort.

“You are doing it on purpose, maybe. Of course you don’t have to hurt yourself to get a massage, Love, I’ll gladly give you one when we get home.”

Daniel kissed Max’s forehead, brushing his hair back with his nose. “I’ll hold you to it since you insist on using that ancient thing.”

He laughed loudly at Max’s squawk of outrage, pleased when his boyfriend launched into the very familiar– and yearly– ‘rant’ about how his gun wasn’t old and he didn’t need to buy a new one and if Daniel would just listen and practice the kick wouldn’t hurt him.

Traditions indeed.

[alekthefox]

Aventurine, Dr. Ratio, Sunday NSFW headcanons (not just the basic stuff. Has shipping between all three in some parts)

Aventurine:

- He can match the music. Even two aspects of it (using hips+hand or both hands, he's practicing to do all three but it requires specific music too). Even as he's cumming he doesn't falter.

- Most people assume he's a bottom so it's sweet when he gets to top someone (he's a switch)

- Exceptional at edging others

- Nobody can survive him being a tease, merciless

- The gloves paired with a lot of lube sometimes

- Tongue piercing (to give more pleasure + "silver tongued" except his regular is actually gold/golden and he's got plenty of different ones. Such as one that looks like a pill on both ends of the bar.)

- Gun kink to the extreme (Loaded. Russian roulette. Maybe put in places it shouldn't be. He loves to hear the click of a blank.)

- Giving oral (or having fingers in his mouth, especially pressing down on his tongue) is his favourite because not only does he have an oral fixation but he's so damn good at it that nobody has kept their pride after

- Sometimes uses aphrodisiacs (with consent even if he's the only one taking it sometimes)

- Falls apart if someone is genuinely making love to him all sweet and gentle and tries to brat very hard because FEELINGS

- Loud. Obviously. Not just if he's putting up a show, he really is loud

- On a pool table

- Carries lube and condoms with him, if he's planning on it he also has flavoured ones

- Dirty talk, banter as foreplay (i call that "word play" kink)

- "Awh, come on. Play with me~"

- Massive ignore fetish

- He can and will buy any toy if he thinks his partner/s will enjoy it (with or without him) but only of the highest quality, even customs

Dr. Ratio:

- Loves skin contact (Cuddle fucking, mating press, prefers all being fully naked.)

- Loves receiving massages before/during/after/without sex (Oil is not a must but he enjoys it too.)

- Bottoms only if he fully trusts his partner/s because he completely loses all ability to think (Full on sub drop, he cannot bottom AND dom.)

- Gun kink (Absolutely not loaded, he will check a million times before pointing it at someone.)

- Can and will find every single erogenous zone and sensitive spot

- Body worship

- No professor roleplay, he doesn't want to be in that mindset when actually with students (fears that it will Pavlov him).

- Would never fuck in Veritas Prime... but the IPC offices? Absolutely.

- Prefers beds or baths over any other location, he likes comfortability

- Mixes degradation with praise ("Such a beautiful mess." "You're a masterpiece I'd enjoy tearing apart." "Have you no shame? So pathetic, so pretty.")

- Very open to try kinks and researches them thoroughly beforehand to be safe and do it right/know what to expect. He could teach the subject.

- Loves to hold his partner at the ribs (facing each other), press slightly with his thumbs and trace one on each side (Something about health and weight.)

- Kisses one side of the neck while checking the pulse with two fingers on the other side

- Regularly will answer questions with just a smile as a warning before the action

- (when doming) likes orgasm denial/control followed by overstimulation, then many orgasms (Will absolutely drain his partner/s completely if allowed.)

- Begging (He insists others don't need to beg even if it turns him on.)

- With aftercare he'll go above and beyond and call it the bare minimum

Sunday:

- Mood lighting of the golden hour (Imaginary energy)

- Bondage (Imagary vines with or without thorns)

- His wings unfurl and spread when he cums, all three sets

- Will hold his breath to not make any sounds (WHYYYY?)

- Whimpers

- Thought fucking Aventurine's mouth was a good idea (read Aventurine's part)

- Pretends to be cold and unaffected but cannot keep that facade up for long EVER

- Hozier music

- His voice gets imbued with Harmony if he's losing his mind

- Fighting for dominance. He loves being knocked down a few pegs more than winning. Consider it slight, private humiliation.

- Masochist (maybe to a concerning degree)

- Clawing, grasping onto his partner/s for dear life

- Will bite his own wing or arm to keep quiet

- +if his partner/s cover his mouth with their hand he's gone gone

- Sensitive. Where? Everywhere. (Maybe because he's touch-starved)

- The only way to get him to be soft and sweet(in a dominant role) is to preen his wings (Based on behaviors of birds.)

- Prefers to submit, usually a bottom

Bonus: When Aventurine played that game with Ratio, the doctor secretly took out the only revolver bullet and was exceptionally menacing after the fifth click.

"You really want it? Are you truly that depraved? If you crave a bullet to bite down on while I fill you up, I will do so without a moment's hesitation."

Downright cruel. Aventurine came so hard for twenty-one seconds as soon as the sixth click was heard, the barrel in his mouth, and didn't even have the mind to be confused about it for a few full minutes.

[maslin-a]

John Doe/Reader

NSFW!!!!!

Sorry, I don't speak English so I use a translator

but I decided to post it anyway))

*if there are errors or something like that, please indicate*

Character belongs to the mortisfox

by the way, I probably should have posted this on Halloween but...

If grandma had found out why you constantly came to her so late, she would probably have fainted, and then she would have called all the hunters. Everyone in the family thinks that you’re just very inattentive, so while walking through the forest you bump into branches, tearing your dress, so you’re late, because you’re counting crows while you’re walking. Yes, if they found out what the real reason is, they would lock you up at home for the rest of your life, buy you a gun, and watch you day and night near the forest. Although it still wouldn’t help him...

The truth is that no one would believe you if you told me that you were spending your time in the forest with a scary gray wolf. Although John is not so scary, and he is more black than gray. They wouldn’t have believed it if you had told them that you weren’t just talking to him in a clearing near a forest river. Of course, the first time you met, and after the relationship, this was the case. But John is a wolf, you can’t talk to him for a long time. John wanted more than just talking about you, he wanted all of you. And, what can I say, you wanted him just the same.

Despite the fact that John was a wolf, he was very gentle, more like a puppy. When he wanted you, he began to rub against your body, gently kissing your face. His tail swung from side to side and his large ears stuck out in tension. He looked at your beautiful face, with his big eyes trying to catch that same look, and when he received it, he could no longer hold back.

He loved kissing you. They were more like licking on his part. His tongue is larger and long, like everything else about him, so the kisses were always wet and hot. He didn’t hesitate to moan, didn’t hesitate to show how good he felt with you. Even if he gives pleasure specifically to you, it seems that the sounds come, for the most part, from him. Yes, more kisses, he loves to lick you, something at the instinct level. He could lie between your legs for an eternity, just to hear the moans of pleasure that he gives you. His long tongue stimulated everything at once, delivering incredible pleasure. It was incredible how he could simultaneously stimulate your clitoris and enter you with the tip of his tongue. He didn’t need his fingers to make your legs shake. Well, you both loved having John between your legs.

He tried to be gentle until the very end, but his wolfish habits made themselves felt as soon as his dick entered you. It was impossible to restrain yourself, but fortunately, only your clothes suffered.

He tried to control himself as much as he could, slowly entering you, trying to bite less, but the thought that everyone would see that you were busy with him was more intrusive. He couldn’t hold back any longer, pounding into you faster and faster, going as far as he could. His hands wandered all over the body, squeezing the chest, then the sides, while his tongue licked the site of a recent bite. Your blood was the best he has ever tasted, maybe he will eat you someday, but not now, he wants to enjoy you forever. He would like you to stay with him forever, without leaving the forest. Then you could spend your time like this forever. Maybe he'll kidnap you someday, that sounds like a good idea in his head. He could sit between your legs for hours, feeling your taste on his tongue. I could always be inside you, warming my penis. He'll definitely do that once he's dealt with those pesky hunters. They would be a good dinner...

John massages your clit and you feel the stars shining in your eyes. Your moan seems to be heard throughout the forest, and you hope that your grandmother doesn’t hear it. John cums right after you. He watches as his white liquid pours out of you, and you notice how his tail is thrashing even faster than before. You stroke his head, and he lies on your chest like an obedient dog. He whines and caresses, and you would like to lie with him like this for longer, but you need to take the pies to grandma.

John walks you home with a goodbye kiss to your forehead. He doesn't want to leave, but he knows that the time will come when you will be together forever. Until then, he will play with the annoying hunters, how infuriating their persistence is, but he swears to you that he will deal with everyone.

And you will have your happily ever after...

[boldlyvoid]

Of Quartz I Will

Amethyst You So Much✨ Part 2: Of Quartz I Will

Summary: after 2 years of dating, Spencer decides it's finally time to get Y/N something to match her Amethyst bracelet.

Warnings: fluff, gun violence, shooting tw, Reid's season 5 knee injury, hurt/comfort, emotional smut, body massage, hand jobs, riding, penetrative sex.

word count: 6K

Spencer notices her as she walks in, through the briefing room window, she’s wearing his purple shirt. He wanted to wear that for work today but couldn’t find it anywhere, now he knows why.

“Excuse me,” he says to his group of teammates as they contribute reading case files.

“Hey,” Spencer grabs her attention from the railing beside the briefing room. “I’ve been looking for that shirt everywhere.”

“It’s mine now,” she smiles, setting her things down at her desk for the night. “I’ll buy you a new purple dress shirt.”

“Buy yourself one, I like that one,” he whines.

“Finders keepers, doctor Reid. Either stop leaving your shit on my bedroom floor or move in already.”

Everyone hears it. All eyes are on them as they bicker in the middle of the bullpen, including the team of profilers just beyond the window.

“Okay,” he agrees. “We’ll talk about this later.”

She climbs the stairs quickly, giving him a good morning hug even though it was 9pm. “I love you, that’s why I’m wearing your shirt.”

He smiles against her shoulder as he holds her, “I love you, more so in my shirt.”

When he sits back down at his chair at the round table, everyone is waiting with a raised brow. They want details, they want his opinion, they want to hear him stutter and see him blush like he used to. But he doesn’t.

“Yes, I will be moving in with her. We have people to save,” Spencer reminded them. Avoiding eye contact and flipping through the files.

Derek tugs on his amethyst bracelet, he hasn’t taken it off since he got it, almost 2 years ago. “Are you ever going to get her any other jewellery?”

“When she goes home I’ll show you,” he whispers, still avoiding eye contact as they all gasp. “Keep it cool or I will kill you.”

He keeps an eye on her at her desk, smiling when she looks up to see him. She blows him a kiss and waves softly a few times, but other than that, they don’t talk for the rest of the day.

—

The next time She sees him, he’s in her bed sound asleep as she’s coming home from work. She sits on the edge of the bed and brushes his hair away from his face to wake him up gently, he blinks into the morning sunlight to see her.

“Good morning,” he smiles.

She’s in his pink shirt today. She liked to keep something of his close on bad cases that take him out of town. In this case, out of the country. He was in Canada for a few days, the case was horrific and she had to deal with all the office work in Penelope’s absence.

“Amethyst,” she whispers, it was part of their secret code.

Spencer, being a cunning linguist, he loved anagrams.

They had Amethyst for I miss you, Quartz for of course, and Olive for I love you. It was easier to keep the PDA to a minimum at work, not wanting to sit in a seminar like Derek and Penny about sexual misconduct and hostile work environments.

“Olive,” Spencer replies, pulling her down into the bed so she can cuddle in.

“We can’t stay, there’s another case. JJ told me to bring you in on my way home,” she explains softly. “They need you to go to ER Doctor Barton’s house, in McLean, he got a note saying someone was going to kill his son. So far they’ve also connected him to a few surrogate kills of Hispanic men, they need the speed reader to go through all his recent surgeries.”

He sighs, holding her tightly and snuggling in against her back, “no.”

She laughs, “Spencer, you can read really fast and the faster you read the faster you can come home to me.”

“Fine,” she has perfect logic, he always tells her that. “Are you driving me to the guy's house?”

“Yep, so we can stop for coffee and talk in the car, I really did miss you a lot,” she struggles out of his grasp to turn and face him, opting to hold his face in her hands as she looks at him. He’s exhausted, just like her.

“I missed you too, I’m sorry I was gone so long,” his voice is barely a whisper, “We should take a day off together soon.”

“Yeah,” she smiles wider, completely in love with him. “I’d really like that, maybe we can look at apartments?”

“Apartments?” He repeats the word with a grin, raising his eyebrow softly. “I thought you liked it here?”

“It’s too small, I want to get a cat, if you’re bringing your closet here we’re going to need a bigger one,” she ranted. “And actually, I was thinking if you’re on the same page as me and this is a long-term thing for you too, what if we just got a bigger place and got a mortgage and start a little life outside the FBI, together?”

He’s so in love with her, “get my bag?” Is all he can say.

“What?” She’s so confused, shaking her head softly as she comprehends it.

“On the floor there, grab my bag, please there’s something for you in there,” he points behind her, trapped under her and the blanker so it’s not like he could get it himself.

She gets up, placing the bag on the bed for him as she watches him dig through it for a little box. “Arminius helped me pick this out.”

He had become best friends with the owner of the rock shop, she wasn’t surprised to hear that he had gotten something else from there for him. It made her giggle with excitement, bouncing softly as Spencer sat up and moved his bag out of the way.

But then he got out of bed, he’s in a pair of purple boxers and his hair is a mess and he’s so nervous and she has no idea why until he gets down on one knee.

“I was waiting to do this.”

“Holy shit.”

He nods with a shaky laugh, “yeah, I’m in it long term if you are?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to drive you to work now?” She laughs, unable to stop smiling as the two of them stare hopelessly at each other. She hasn’t even looked at the ring yet, too occupied with the wonderfully happy look on his face.

“Quartz,” is all she can say, flabbergasted as she keeps laughing with a shocked smile.

He takes it from the box and she watches as he slides the most beautiful purple Amethyst ring over her ring finger and then her hands are back on his cheeks. Pulling him into a kiss, she can’t seem to hold him close enough as she breathes in. Holding her breath as she keeps him there.

He pulls away with a laugh, “when are we supposed to be there?”

“Now.”

“Damn,” they’re all giggles.

And it doesn’t stop, she takes off Spencer’s shirt and he puts it on instead, matching it with a vest and a tie while she makes him a coffee and can’t stop smiling as she glances at the ring.

It really only made sense for their engagement to happen in the same place she fell in love with him.

Sure, she liked him a lot when he was getting her rocks and she really wanted to get to know him more after his last note, but it was the bracelet that made her fall in love. He went out of his way to make her smile on what felt like the worst day of her life, and she knew she wanted forever with him from then on out. Now she was going to get it, she was going to be Agent Y/N Reid, and her ring was absolutely perfect.

He catches her taking photos of it in the sunshine when he comes out of the bedroom. She still can’t stop smiling, it’s just so perfect and she’s just so in love with him.

They get muffins from the bakery under her apartment before getting in her car, “where is it?” Spencer asks, playing the role of GPS whenever they drove together.

“120 Kensington Road, McLean Virginia,” she members it clearly.

“Take a right,” Spencer smiles, and she’s off.

She drives with one hand, looking at her ring almost more than the road as Spencer held her other one. She pulled up to the Doctor’s house and he didn’t want to leave. Sighing, he looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

“I will see you when you get home, I’m going to call out after this case is done and you get mandatory 24 hours off for back-to-back cases,” she said, knowing protocol almost better than him. “Go to work.”

“Fine,” he frowns again, getting out of the car and walking around to her door. She rolls the window down and tilts her chin up, leaning out for the kiss he’s waiting to give her.

“Let me know when you’re done, I can come and pick you back up,” she whispers against his lips between kisses.

One last smooch and he pulls away, backing up so he isn’t tempted to stay any longer, “olive.”

“Olive,” she replies with a smile, waving slightly before he disappears behind the door.

She releases a long sigh, melting into the chair as she lets the butterflies swarm around a bit in her stomach, it felt wonderful.

She went home, napped from 10 till 2 and then sat in bed to stare at her beautiful ring for a little while. She couldn’t believe he proposed just like that. All she asked was if he wanted to get a mortgage on a house and she guesses he heard "spend the rest of your life with me."

Sometimes, when Spencer was on a case in Virginia and too busy to keep her updated, she would turn on the police radio and listen to what was going on around in the area. It was good to keep her mind preoccupied and to remind herself that he was safe.

At least that’s what it used to do.

“Shots fired at 120 Kensington Road, McLean Virginia, 10-999, 11-41, all units in the area are requested.”

“10-999, officer down, 11-41, send ambulances,” she whispers to herself, remembering all the dispatch lingo from the office.

She doesn’t have time to panic, she unlocks her safe and grabs her gun, loading it and then she’s out the door, in her car and pulling up behind the sheriff's car as she’s running out.

She tosses her badge up to show the cops as she tries to run onto the scene, “I’m an FBI agent on his team, let me through!”

She slides her knees along the grass, surely ruining her jeans as she dives for him. She places a hand on his bloody knee and looks everywhere else, “are you okay? Are you good? Holy shit, Spence?”

Her breathing is so heavy, she clutches her chest with her left hand and tries to calm down as he looks up at her and they breathe in and out a few times without breaking eye contact. He’s completely fine, there’s just a bullet in his knee, he assures her.

“I’m fine,” he laughs lightly, wincing at the pain as he leans forward to kiss her gently.

She’s there only 2 minutes before Derek, JJ and Rossi are pulling up on the scene. Everyone huddled around them on the grass as the EMTs bandaged his knee up before taking him to the ambulance.

“You need to call Emily,” Spencer speaks over everyone, “something happened to Hotch, I’m fine here with Y/N, just go see him.”

He was always going to be fine with her, that was for sure. She never left his side, except when they took him in for surgery and forced her back into the waiting room. But as soon as he was okay again, his hand was in hers.

—

He was given a month off after his knee surgery, but he still ended up in the office most nights. Becoming more of a night owl than usual as he accompanied his fiancé to her desk and sat beside her as she did her work. It was really nice to spend time with her and not have to do anything.

Of course, he filled his time by going over other case files, things they weren’t able to get to as a team and things that didn’t fit the criteria of the BAU. He made phone calls and sent emails, helping small-town cops make simple connections and doing more good that way.

He sat at her desk, his leg resting over her lap as she made a few phone calls. Handing the background of the cases, filing off invoices and approvals. Dispatching units and requesting files and overrides from other departments. She was amazing.

She hangs up the phone, finally, after 45 minutes of rolling her eyes and sighing as she was transferred from office to office all around America. She places her hand on his leg and absentmindedly runs her hand along his shin, staring off at the desk, silently.

“Are you okay?”

She nods, “do you think you’re healed enough to start looking at places?”

He nods back, “actually, I already found one. Hold on,” he slides his leg off her lap and stands with his crutches, hobbling over to his desk where he looks through his files for a new folder.

When he comes back to her, he places the folder in her hands, “forever homes,” is listed on the tag and he sees her heart melt in her eyes. She opens the folder as he sits down, there are about 15 pages of house and apartment listings printed off.

“When did you do all this?” She whispered, shocked and not wanting to cry at work.

“Before I got shot, I was on the phone with Penelope and I asked her to help me find some, she printed off like 50 and I selected the good ones, but there’s more if you don’t like an-“

“Babe,” she cut the rant short, “I’m sure I’ll love any of them, as long as they come with you.”

He pulls a specific sheet from the pile, “this one is my favourite.”

She can see why, it’s a large, green exterior, Victorian home. There’s a turret and a porch, large windows with a bench seat in the kitchen. A garage, 4 bedrooms, a finished basement, a study and a pretty nice backyard.

“It’s a bit of a fixer-upper, but Derek said he’s willing to help teach me how to fix some stuff,” Spencer pressed his lips together awkwardly. He really wanted this on.

“Let’s get a Realtor and set up a walk-through,” she agreed, “and we should bring Derek because he’ll know more than most inspectors anyway. I don’t want to get a place with a cracked foundation or a faulty water heater.”

He smiled again, “remember last week when I had that extra appointment?”

She tilted her head, “no, there is no way you’ve already been there to check it out without me.”

“And I put an offer in, but I was waiting for your approval,” he adds, nervous for her to hate it.

“With what money? I thought we were doing this together?” He’s not sure why she’s upset, normally she loves his surprises.

“When I sold my moms house, I invested the money and it’s been gaining interest for years now,” his voice is soft, “I got through college with scholarships and if I was ever down on money I just had to go to one casino and I always leave with two grand, minimum, I promise, I’m really in this for the long run. I know what I'm doing.”

She smiles, picking up the listing and calling the agency. “Hi this is Y/N Y/L/N calling, my fiancé, Doctor Spencer Reid, recently put an offer in on the listing for 247 Chestnut Drive, I’d love to come and see it soon and take some measurements and things. If you could call me back…”

Spencer is so in love with her it hurts. He wants to scream right then and there, like a kettle on a hot stove for too long, he’s bursting at the seams. She hangs up the phone with the best smile he’s ever seen, “I’m going home early, cause I’m sick, care to join me?”

She stands then, putting her hand out for him so he could stand with her help. “Quartz,” he replies, taking her hand and stands, she gathers their things and she clocks out. No one really cared about all her sick days, she did her job well and they wanted the good doctor to be taken care of.

When he finally gets to show her the inside of the house, she is so in love with it. The hardwood is all original, same with the railings, shelves, banisters and countertops. They're all rustic and beautiful, she can’t help but run her finger over everything as she looks around with an open mouth. X

The kitchen cabinets are green, there is a beautiful colourful wallpaper as a backsplash… and it’s completely empty. It was a remodel, some house flippers did it up and didn’t want to stay. It was made more modern, updated appliances and every safety protocol met. It was perfect.

She turned to him with a smile after only 5 minutes of looking, “this is it.”

“Good,” the women showing them around said, “because your offer was approved, with your say so I can get everything started with escrow.”

“Holy shit!” Y/N cheered, jumping a bit and showing off while Spencer just leaned on his crutch. She walked up to him and wrapped her arms around him, kissing his cheek a few times.

“You can start that paperwork,” Spencer smiled, holding her back with his face in the crook of her neck.

—

The hardest part of moving is transporting all of Spencer’s books from one home to another. It's at least 30 boxes of books and Derek will be faxing his chiropractor bill to Spencer within the week.

His office here was huge, floor-to-ceiling oak shelves and green walls, full of all his books and belongings now. It was his own space in the house he shared with his future wife.

It felt crazy to him.

She used to just be the cute girl in the office, he can remember the exact moment he laid eyes on her. She was walking around aimlessly with some files in her hands when he turned around at his desk. She looked lost, overwhelmed and like she was about to have a breakdown.

She looked at him with the same fear he felt on his first day, he took the file from her and knew exactly where it was meant to go. She followed behind him, quiet as a mouse as he placed it in a folder by the wall under a sign that said "Anderson."

He turned with a press-lipped smile and a nod and then they went their separate ways. Silent conversations became their thing, the only time he really heard her voice was when she called him in in the middle of the night or when he heard her on the phone.

Other than that; she smiled when they passed each other, she’d tap her watch when he needed to be doing something Hotch asked for and was preoccupied with something else, she even knew exactly what he was looking for by just observing his chaos. Always able to pull a sheet of paper from the bottom of the stack with ease, and always silently, until that one day she said sorry to him after slamming the phone.

Now he knows that she talks in her sleep, she likes to go over her plans out loud in the shower every morning, and she sings all day long. Be it little tunes, hums, random tongue clicks or whistling, she’s always making noise. His favourite, however, was when sometimes she’d remember something she was trying to remember during a conversation they had, 4 days prior, and she’d scream it out like he knows what she’s thinking every second of every day.

He was in love with her voice, he never wanted to stop hearing it.

He was in love with her face, he never wanted to stop seeing it.

He was in love with her body, he never wanted to stop touching it.

He was in love with her mind, he never wanted to stop exploring it.

All those thoughts rushing to his brain and rushing a new form of butterflies for him. Like anxiety, but happier. Like he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life with her. It was anticipation rather than fear.

She really was it for him, and as he unboxed his life into the house they were about to share for the upcoming future, it all became very real. This was how the rest of his forever was going to look with her. All their memories from here on out were going to take place in this house, in these rooms.

When he picked this house, it was just a fun idea, and now he looks at the hardwood floors and thinks about how wet baby feet are going to sound during bath time. He wonders how many times the creaky steps are going to let him know she’s coming up to bed, he wonders what screaming matches and fights and love-making will happen beyond the bedroom door across from his study.

He wonders if she’s going to love him as long as he wants to love her.

He opens his study door then, “Hey, babe?”

“Yeah?” She calls up from the bottom of the stairs.

“Can you come up here?”

She marches up the stairs, still not used to the creaky staircase or the length of stairs she had to climb, soon enough, she’s on the second floor and walking into his study, “what’s up?”

He doesn’t know how to ask, he doesn’t even really know what he wants actually. He just missed her, and she was only just downstairs.

“Can I have a hug?”

It comes out more pathetic than he predicted, cringing at the embarrassment as he shrunk into the couch.

“Quartz,” her voice is soft as she approaches him.

Sitting on the brown leather couch that was once in his apartment, she wraps her arms around him and he holds her back softly.

Resting his head on her shoulder, he just wants to hold her for a while. Eventually, they end up laying down with her on his chest, still holding each other as silent as they were in the beginning.

“I love you,” Spencer whispers against her hair.

She snuggles in more, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder softly, “I love you, too, are you okay?”

He nods softly, “I was just thinking about everything and I wanted to hold you.”

She swoons, “do you remember the first night we cuddled like this?”

He nods again, brushing his chin against her head each time, “it all feels like history repeating like it’s supposed to be this way for us.”

“I like to think so,” she agreed. “I actually think you’re my twin flame.”

He hums, thinking about it, “I’m not sure I know what that means.”

“So soulmates are kind of like mirror souls, they are exactly everything that the other needs and they fill the missing parts for each other." She explains softly and he can already tell where her rant is going.

"I don’t think that’s us because we are too similar; sometimes we butt heads and don’t see eye-to-eye, and you drive me crazy a lot of the time because we have the same anxiety and daddy issues, but it’s also because you do things I think about doing and then I can’t do them because they're done already and they’re my calm down things so then I have nothing to calm down with, like yesterday-“

“Babe,” he whispers, “I know, we finish each other’s sandwiches, that’s what your niece said when she saw us together.”

It makes her smile and he can feel her cheekbone against his chest, “twin flames are what happens when one soul is ripped in half and sent to two bodies. They’re capable of surviving separately, as long as they have the right kindling, but they burn brighter together.”

“People sometimes think fire is living because it consumes and uses energy, requires oxygen, and moves through the environment,” Spencer says softly, “have you ever seen something catch fire on both ends?”

“Yeah, a few times, why?”

“It’s never about burning the item entirely, both fires are only concerned with connecting to each other for mass destruction. They always burn in the strangest patterns, but they always connect first before devouring the victim.”

She sits up to look at him, “are you saying I devoured you?”

“That would be de-flowered,” he teases, “but no, I’m saying it makes sense. We really have been burning through everything to find each other.”

“I cannot believe you just said I de-flowered you before the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said,” she laughs, “and it was a mutual de-flowering, might I remind you.”

“I will never forget,” he coos, leaning forward and pressing his lips against hers.

She pushes him back against the couch, it’s been forever since they’ve really done anything. With moving, Spencer’s recovery, her working nights and sleeping all day. It hasn’t been rewarding in a long time, it’s just been enjoyable.

“No,” he whispers as she starts to trail kisses down his neck. “I’m not having sex on the couch the first time we do it in the house.”

She laughs against his neck, pushing herself off the couch and extending a hand to him, “did the doctor even say you can yet?”

“I can’t do all the work, but I can give a second opinion?” He couldn’t stop the grin on his face as she hauled him to his feet.

“Let me heal you,” she whispers, and he knows exactly what she means.

She lays him down on their bed, on top of the covers with no clothes on as she gathers her things. She closes the blinds, turns on her amber lamp, and lights her candles. But his favourite thing that she adds is the sound therapy… helping the water in his body vibrate at the right frequency to calm him completely. She’s going all out for this one.

Much like the first time.

She’s naked too, both of them completely unfazed by each other’s naked form by now. She sits between his legs with all her chakra stones in her hands and she sets them down on his stomach before arranging them in order where they’re supposed to help on his body.

The Amethyst is just above his head for his crown chakra, touching his scalp gently. He closes his eyes as she places a Lapis Lazuli on his third eye, in the centre of his forehead. An Aquamarine on his throat. Rose Quartz on his heart, Tiger’s Eye on his solar plexus, Pyrite on his belly button and finally, Fire Agate at his core.

He always felt so totally relaxed like this, even the first time she ever laid him down like this. He was so calm, he knew he was in good hands and seeing her bless the room made him feel even better.

“Only good may enter here,” the words she repeats every full moon when she opens the windows and blessed the whole house. Keeping them safe, happy, healthy and loved.

She kissed the scar on his knee, causing him to open his one eye to see her. She was laying between his legs now, head resting on his hip as she lightly ran her fingers over his knee, ticking the skin where he finally had feeling again. It took forever for the numbness to go away, even longer for the pain. But she was so patient with him the whole time, taking the best care of him.

She doesn’t mind that he’s hard, she’s very close to his dick as it rests on his stomach beside the crystal.

She kisses his hip, inching each kiss over until she’s pressing one right to the shaft of his dick and he takes a deep breath. Knowing she’ll stop if he forgets how to do the breathing exercises she showed him. He wasn’t allowed to tense his body, this was about pleasure and there was no rush.

For either of them.

He’s done this for her a few times over the years too, just as slow and sensual as she was being. It was calming, rewarding, they bonded with each other and really felt like one being this way.

He heard a cap open, but he was so used to it by now that it filled him with contentment rather than excitement. He remembers the first time she said she wanted to do this, getting some skin-safe, homemade, vegan massage lube and almost turning inside out with how awkward she was asking to do this for their first time.

She sat on her knees between his legs with a small bounce as she got excited about her favourite part. She sat with the bottle resting between her thighs, warming up while she ran some of it over her hands. She massaged his thighs first, getting all the knots and making sure there was no “Charlie's on any horses”, the first time she said that he almost cried laughing and ruined the mood for a little.

She took the rocks off him then, sitting more on his hips as she drizzled the warm oil on his chest. He let his hands rest on her knees, wanting to feel her skin while she felt his. Her hands felt like magic, running over his chest, arms and shoulders like this was her job. She knew every crook, every cranny, every pressure point and soft tissue on him. His body was just as much her’s now.

It's when she presses her body flat against his that he knows the mood is changing. Her breasts are flat against his chest, her hands are behind his head as she looks down at him, her groin pressed right against him as he aches for contact, grinding up into her slowly as she stares into his eyes.

“Better?” She whispered with a small smile, already feeling how much calmer he was, she just wanted confirmation.

“Much,” he’s just as quiet in his reply. “If I don’t bend that knee, it’ll be fine.”

“I don’t mind doing all the work, baby,” she kisses him quickly, “I know you like it more like this anyway.”

She slithers down his body then, his body slick with oil as she easily glides down and creating the most wonderful amount of friction with him. He groans, tossing his head back against the Amethyst on his scalp.

She sits on his good thigh, avoiding pressure with his bad knee like he was an old man now. She makes contact with the only part she didn’t message, adding more of the massage lube to her hand before lazily jerking him off. He keeps a hand on her thigh, groping and managing her right back as she kept a perfect rhythm.

She occasionally grinds against his thigh, mostly when he moans and groans. Extremely turned on by him having a good time, proud of herself for relaxing him, always complaining that he was too tense, she really knew how to release the pressure.

Just as she gets into it, the calming sounds of rain and high-pitched frequencies come to an end… Rhiannon starts playing and he literally watches her come alive; changing her rhythm to match the beat as she starts to grind against him more, she only added his song to the queue, somehow an hour had passed and her music was resuming.

And when Spencer said she was eclectic, he meant she could go from listening to a rare Canadian band called the Tragically Hip, to Kanye West, Taylor Swift, Evanescence and back to Fleetwood Mac. He had no idea where the mood was about to go.

He moved his hand up her thigh as he tried to power through the pleasure, her hand was so amazing he was bubbling away under his skin. He manages to get his middle finger between his leg and her, massaging her clit as she bucked her hips down on him.

Mutual pleasure in any sense was enough for them, seeing the other being perfectly content after everything they went through; it was euphoric. She leans up then and kisses him desperately, unable to stop stroking him as she sucked his tongue into her mouth.

She smiles against his mouth as the song changes again, it’s the song from the ending of Dirty Dancing, he knows how much she loves that movie. Her kisses get softer, she’s so gentle as she strokes him just a few more times before throwing a leg over his hips and lowering herself onto him in one go. Bottoming out faster than before, both of them making the same moan as they curled forward for each other, mouths clashing as they held onto each other.

Grinding together, Spencer kept a hand on her to help her ride as she was preoccupied with her hands in his hair and kissing his neck as they moved in tandem. It was so good, he was incredibly close but he wanted to hold off as long as possible to feel her finish first.

His ultimate pleasure was knowing she was pleasured, he massaged her clit once more between their bodies and she shuttered, “right there,” her words are small as she kisses under his ear, tugging his hair softly as he moans so she can lick at his neck as she moves her hips up and down, gloriously.

He can’t keep his eyes open, everything is too much and he’s so relaxed; it’s like his body is floating on a cloud as she rides him like they’re actually in heaven. He was really having the time of his life and it made him smile at the end of the whimper he released as she tightened around him suddenly and on purpose.

She moves faster, and so does his wrist as he helps her over the edge first. She’s panting in his ear as she rides him with purpose. She cums with a gasp and then he’s gone, her whole body stuttering as she let out the most relaxed and uncontrollable moan he’s ever heard from her.

His grip on her ass tightens as he holds her hips down, he cums with a gasp and it’s so powerful he passes out.

—

He’s so cute when he sleeps.

She’s got him all cleaned up, everything put away and where it’s supposed to be in their new room. She just lays beside him as she watches him nap, blissed out and relaxed, she doesn’t even care that it’s such a typical guy thing to fall asleep right after.

That was kind of her mission.

He’s been so stressed, he wasn’t going to tell her because he didn’t want his stress to become her stress like it so often did. Feeding off each other like a fire, he really knew how to give a phrase to a feeling. But he was stressed because he was in pain from his knee and no matter how much he lied and said he was fine, she knew he wanted to relieve the pain but he was afraid of even taking a Tylenol.

This is the most relaxed he’s been in months.

She ordered a pizza while he was asleep, it arrived before he woke up too. She sets the pizza box, 2 bottles of pop and a roll of napkins at the end of the bed, gently, before getting back into her spot.

She brushed his hair from his face and kissed the tip of his nose gently, seeing him scrunch his face and swallow before blinking awake. She smiled at him, “Hi, sleepyhead.”

“Hello, beautiful.”

“I ordered pizza,” she whispers.

“Olive,” he replies.

“Well yeah,” it makes her giggle but she has to say it, “I got our regular green olives, mushrooms and extra cheese.”

He laughs too, extra happy after both the sex and his nap. “I love you,” he says the full thing this time.

She presses another kiss to his lips before hauling him into a sitting position, “I love you, too.”

It’s the best night of her life so far.

the house

Taglist: @dreatine for inspiring a part 2 <3

@shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor @blanchardsbk

[necros-writing-stuff]

Alex Eden and Whitney drugging their s/O with aphrodisiacs?

Sex pollen and fuck-to-survive situations are very good, aphrodisiacs are up there too.

NSFW below (tw for dubcon)

Alex

It's a new drug they're working on.

The plant strain used is a little different, meant to be less bitter to taste.

With noone else to test it on, they gues you'll be the perfect subject.

They'll approach you with the idea, promising that they can help you out however you need and wait for you to agree.

Then they mix it in your tea/coffee in the morning and wait for the affects to kick in.

Loves how desperate you become - how you cling to their overalls and try to pull them off, but your body becomes sluggish and ready to use, so you're just a writhing mess.

Takes full advantage, lifting you up and adjusting you how they like, strong arms not slipping even a little.

Makes comments throughout about what the affects are, that your nipples seem more sensitive than usual, your sex leaking without being touched.

It's good to keep notes for the buyers.

Could very much picture Alex as someone who owns sex toys. Make one of those fuck machines they could strap you to while they work on the farm, coming back into the cottage to check up on you and maybe rail you themselves.

Might even hook you up to the milking machines if you seem desperate enough.

Thanks you with a nice meal and a massage the next day for helping out.

Eden

How many times have you put those mushrooms in their breakfast only to push them away when they need relief?

Well it's time you gave them their fun.

Eden decides to add the aphrodisiac to your dinner, purposely avoiding the side of the plate they had drugged before passing it to you to finish off.

You compliment them on the taste and they smile, knowing exactly what's coming.

Dinner finished and plates clean, you retreat to your usual place in front of the fire, snuggled up as Eden cleans their gun.

You start wiggling in their lap and Eden knows it's kicking in.

"Eden I feel strange," you gasp out when you crotch rubs against their thigh.

Theres little hesitation as you're lowered to the rug, clothes being ripped off of the both of you as you lay compliant and needy.

Eden is going to ruin you throughout the night, growling in your ear about how you deserve this for being such a little tease.

Won't use toys. They've been pent up from a lack of your attention, you'll take them again and again until you can't walk and you'll still beg them for more.

Eventually moves you to the bed when the fatigue kicks in, but will be determined to keep going.

Will flop over and go to sleep very happy in their decision to drug you, and will probably do so again.

Still horny as all hell in the morning, taking you on the table despite how tired and sore you are.

Whitney

Invites you out on a regular pub date, buying your drink and watching it while you go pee.

By watching it I mean spiking it and watching like a hungry wolf when your chug the liquid down.

Cuts the date short to drag you back to their place, marching you up the stairs and pushing you into their room.

You ask them what the hell is going on, but by the flushed look to your face you've already figured it out.

"Did you fucking drug me?" you accuse, doubling over from the intense spikes of pleasure begging for attention under your skin.

"Shut up and get on your knees, slut," Whitney grasps you by the hair and forces you to your knees, stripping their pants/skirt and pulling you into their crotch.

"Get me off and I'll help, or I'll leave you to walk home like that," they threaten, grinding against your mouth.

Takes no pity on you as you go down on them. Will pull you away and edge themselves so they can see you beg. The longer Whitney lasts, the more your suffering builds.

Eventually snaps and gets you under them, too enticed by your lewd moans to hold off anymore.

Switches between overstimilation and tying you up so you can't get off.

Draws all over you and takes photos while you're bound, occasionally playing with your sex for the camera.

Teases you on how easily you cum.

You don't leave Whitney alone with your drinks much anymore.

[overly-b]

Say It Again - JJ Maybank

In which JJ questions if he is deserving of you and your love. 

Warnings: swearing, sad JJ, fluff, awful editing don’t come for me

Word Count: 3.5k(whoops) 

Author's note: this is my first time writing in so long, be gentle with me friends. I know that a lot of people have done similar prompts of JJ feeling undeserving of love and the reader helps him through it, so this is a little bit unoriginal but, this is my take on it. 

Bold italics is a flash back. 

Thank you to @maybe-maybanks​ to the late night inspiration!

not my gif

As you, Kie and Pope approached the yard of the chateau, it became undeniably clear that JJ had gone off the rails with extravagant spending since you had seen him last. 

“What did you do JJ?” Pope questions the boy sitting in the hot tub. Looking at you through his sunglasses, he smirks. 

“I got a jet going straight in my butt right now” He ignores Pope. “Y’all, should get in here immediately, you hear me?” His sentence slurs slightly. “Salud!” He toasts his plastic champagne flute in the air, but opts to take a swig from the bottle in his other hand. 

JJ scans the faces of his three friends, eyes lingering at yours a moment longer than Kie and Popes. 

You see, just days ago, after getting arrested, then beaten by his father, JJ found you, and poured his heart out, to find that you shared his feelings, and the two of you started seeing each other in secret. 

Being that it was a secret, the two of you had yet to put any kind of label on it, but you loved that blonde boy to the ends of the earth, despite what had happened earlier that day. 

“You know what, that's exactly what I’m gonna do. Go off, by myself.”  

You watched as JJ began walking away. Pope attempted to stop him, but Sarah and John B had halted his efforts. You stood silently fuming at the actions of the boy you had such strong feelings for. How could he be doing something like this? This wasn’t the JJ you knew, had been friends with for years, and were now in love with. Though if you were being honest with yourself, you had loved him for years prior. 

“JJ!” You seethed, shaking off John B’s attempts to hold you back from running after him. He was already a good distance away from the group, he probably couldn’t even hear you yelling, so you started speed walking. It soon became apparent that he was simply ignoring you. 

“JJ!” You were merely twenty feet from him, screaming at his back. “JJ stop!” His strides continued. 

“You were real quiet back there princess, finally decide to comment?” You stepped in front of him, shoving his shoulders to force his walk to a stop. “What the fuck Y/N!” 

“What the fuck me? What the fuck you! What has gotten into you right now JJ what are you doing?” 

“Nothing has gotten into me Y/N I’m simply paying back what I owe.” He states, trying to walk past you. 

“By stealing the money from the drug dealer that just jumped us?” Your brows raise as you interrogate him. 

“He jumped us, he has this coming.” He nonchalantly shrugs his shoulders, succeeding in getting past you, as you stand shocked by his words. 

“JJ you and I both know that you’re not that goddamned stupid.” His steps slow, he stands still. “Stealing money from a drug dealer? JJ I know that you owe money because of Pope but this isn’t right! You’re better than this-” 

“Am I?” He turns on his heels to face you again, this time squaring his shoulders to be purposeful in standing tall over you. Him standing over you made you feel small in comparison to the raging blond. “Am I better than this?” He repeats his question. 

“JJ what are you-” 

“Because I’m starting to think that you, and your high standards, and your perfect life, only think that I am better than this because you want me to be better than this.” 

You knew what he was referring to. You were by no means a kook, but your family was financially stable enough to afford a nice house, you had your own car, and if you wanted, you could afford to go to college on the mainland. Your life was unlike most lives on the cut, but JJ knew that your life was far from perfect. 

“What the hell-” 

“And that if we’re gonna be together,  you need me to be better than this so that I can fit in with your life.” You had no idea what he meant. Your life was on the cut, with the Pouges, with him, and the difference of financial well beings of your familys never changed that before, so why was it now? 

“What the fuck JJ stop-” 

“Well you know what Y/N! I’m not better than this, this is who I am! I get into fights, I steal, I have a criminal record, when I get hit, I hit back this is who I am!” 

“We both know that stealing twenty five thousand dollars from a drug dealer is never going to make anything better.” You attempt to reason with him. “This isn’t hitting back this is loading the gun that's already in your face!” 

“Y/N I have to!” He spits. “I know you could never understand being in so much debt but this is my only option.” His words hit you like a punch to the stomach. He looks down to his boots before continuing. “So I’m sorry that I’m not what you pictured as a boyfriend, but this is what I do Y/N. Maybe you trying to fight it means you deserve better than me.” 

And just like that, it was clear that he was more mad with himself then he was with you. However, everything that he said was uncalled for, and nasty, and he had no right. You watch as he storms away, even more tense than before, and you couldn’t help but wonder how this affects your newfound relationship. You blink away the water from your eyes, and do your best to compose yourself as you slowly wander back to your friends. 

“How much did this cost?” Pope asks. Your head was spinning as he listed all of the things that he had purchased since he left you standing in the woods. 

“Uh, well. With the generator, the petrol, and, oh, hey, express delivery,” You knew the answer before he even had time to speak. “Pretty much all of it, yeah.” 

“All of it?” Pope exclaims. 

“Oh my god” You whisper, mostly to yourself, rubbing your forehead with your palm. 

“Yeah all of it.” 

“You spent all the money in one day?” “Yeah burned a hole right through my pocket.” He confidently explains. “But, I mean like come on guys, look at this!”  The tone in his voice told you that he was holding back, it was alway his biggest tell when he would hold back his feelings. “Finest in jet based massage therapy, that's what they told me.” 

The three of you are left speechless. 

“Kie what? Can’t a man have a little luxury in life?” JJ still could not bring himself to look you in the eyes for more than a moment. “Come on, all this scrimping’ and scraping’” you notice his voice falter again. “I mean like, guys, we, you only live once. Right?” JJ finally locks eyes with you, and he reacts spastically, your dreaded look having the gravest effect on him.  

“Y/N, stop, why are you looking at me like that?” He knew full well, but he was trying too hard not to show it. “I know that you’re mad about earlier okay, but, everything is fine now!” His voice was louder now, concealing the breakdown you knew was coming, sooner or later, here with the three of you or somewhere else. “Enough of this emotional shit. Get in the Cat’s Ass come on.” He smiles, waving you to join him. 

“The what?” Kie furrows her brows. 

“The Cat’s Ass.” JJ smugly replies, proud of himself. “That's what I named her. Oh hey yo, I almost forgot,” JJ leans forward, pressing a button that makes water spray across the tub, and even more colorful lights flash in front of him. “Huh! Yeah that's right, disco mode, thats right baby!” His eyes scan yours, noticing that they were clouding with tears. He quickly looks away from you, not wanting to see the damage that he had done, and was still doing. 

“JJ,” Your voice is low and hushed as you blink back tears. 

“Are you kidding me?” Popes harsh voice overpowers yours, cutting off you and your tears. “You could have paid for restitution!” 

“Or literally given it to any charity” Kie fumes at the sight before her. 

“Guys,” You mutter, wanting them to stop being so hard on the broken boy you secretly called yours. You were mad too, if not more than Pope and Kie due to your argument. However, you could see straight through the smug grins and happy fasad that JJ was trying to project. He was hurting, and you knew it wasn’t just about the fight the two of you shared. 

“Or better yet, you could have helped us buy supplies to get the rest of the gold out of the well!” 

“Guys!” You spoke up louder this time, only to be cut off by JJ. 

“Okay well you know I didn’t do that!” As JJ’s swimsuit clad body surfaces from the hot water, you are confronted with what you knew would be there, and the tears pour from your eyes. “I got a hot tub!” JJ shakes in what appears to be anger, but you know it isn't anger he's reeling from. “For my friends,” 

Kie and Pope gape at JJ’s bruised abdomen and instantly connect the dots as to who is responsible. 

“I bought a hot tub for my friends.” He repeats. “You know what, no, you know what, screw friends. I got a hot tub for my family.” 

“JJ what the hell-” Kie gasps.

“I got this for you! Guys look what I did for you! Alright?” JJ spins and gestures to everything he bought. “Look at this!” When he turns back, he finds that you were no longer holding back the tears your eyes once held. 

“Y/N stop being emotional don’t, don’t cry okay? I know that I hurt you before,” His voice fails him as he recalls the words that he said to you. “But I did this for you,” He hangs his head, he knows how bad he fucked up, and it was hitting him all at once that this was not the way that he needed to make things right. This was not the way back to you, and the high of his twenty five thousand dollar spending spree was dissapating at his realisation, and at the sight of you before him. 

“I mean, it’s sweet right?” JJ hadn't even realized that as he began talking, you had climbed into the hot tub. He looks into your eyes for a moment as you stand before him, and lets out a sob as you gently wrap your arms around him. His forehead falls to your shoulder, and  all of his pent up energy released in the form of tears and heaves. 

“I’m sorry. Baby I’m so sorry.” He whimpers to you, only for you to shush him tenderly. Kie and Pope share a confused glance at the nickname. “I couldn’t do it.” You rub his hair and hold him close as he convulses. “I can’t take it anymore!” JJ wails, your tears land on his shoulders, and his tears land on yours. “I was gonna kill him!” 

Kie is next to join you, jumping into the steaming water and embracing the both of you. Pope follows. 

“I just want to do the right thing.” 

“Shh, JJ, I know. I know” You coo him, trying to calm his weeping. 

After minutes of holding him, Kie announces that she has to head home, and Pope offers to drive her. JJ rests in a nearly catatonic state in your arms, no doubt exhausted and knowing JJ, not ready to face the fact that he just broke down in front of his friends. 

The pair leaves bidding reassuring words to JJ, and a few more hugs. 

You are left in the hot tub, holding the blond boy as he clutches onto you. He wasn’t crying anymore, but his breaths were rapid and heavy as he was shaken, the events of the day had caught up to him in the form of you and your tears. He begins to spew soft “I’m sorry”s and other apologises, but his panic makes him stutter and his sentences start to lack direction. 

You shush him and direct the boy to listen to your heartbeat, trying your best to bring his shattered thoughts back to earth. 

“JJ, we should get out of the hottub.” You tell him, to which he simply sniffles and nods, unsure of how to speak to you after the horrible things he said to you, and his inability to form a proper apology. He knew that you were nothing like he had depicted, yet he said what he said, and there was no taking it back. 

His skin was red from the overheated water, and it itched with chlorine, so as the two of you entered the chateau, you started the shower. 

“You should rinse off the chlorine.” You told him, not sure of how to speak to him either. He followed your order and stripped of his bathing suit. You were able to track down clothes for him to sleep in, and as you waltzed back into the bathroom, you decided you couldn’t leave him alone in the shower.  

Taking off your soaked clothes quickly, you slip into the shower to find JJ standing still under the water. You snake your arms around his torso, careful of the bruises pressing your chest to his back. His hands find yours he holds them tight. You place a kiss on his spine, then rest your head where your lips touched. 

“I’m so sorry” He croaked, his voice was tired, worn out from the day. 

“JJ-” 

“No stop Y/N” He turns around to face you, grabbing your face in his hands. “I’m sorry. I should have never said any of those things about you, none of them were true, it's just that, its,” He stumbles on his words. You rub his back to ground him again, he takes a deep breath. “It's just that you do deserve better than me.” 

“JJ please-” He doesn’t let you continue. 

“No you do, Y/N you do. You deserve so much better than me, than this life, than what I can give you. You don’t deserve some, broken kid that's never getting off the cut, you don’t deserve, to, have to watch as I steal money from drug dealers, you don’t deserve any of the shit that I know that I put you through you just, you deserve better, better than someone who doesn’t come close to deserving you.” 

The tears streaming down both of your faces mix with the water coming from the shower and you have no idea how to make his saddening speech stop. 

“JJ” You sob, he pauses. “You deserve so much more, than what your life has given you. You deserve to be happy, you deserve to be loved JJ, you deserve everything that you want, why can’t you see that?” 

And instantly you feel stupid for asking. JJ’s eyes wander and find the bruises littering his body, answering your question. You stifle another sob as your eyes graze his battered skin. 

“Listen to me.” You demand his attention. “You are not worthless.” His eyes divert from yours as he realises what you’re referring to. “JJ look at me,” After a moment or two, his gaze wearily finds yours. “You are not worthless, you are worthy of love, and affection, and someone who takes care of you, and not only are you worthy but you deserve it too. Do you hear me?” 

JJ swallows thickly, nodding in acceptance of your beautiful words. He embraces you tightly, having no words of his own. No one had ever made him feel like this. No one had ever made him feel worthy of the good that was before him. 

He was hesitant to think that he deserved you. To him, no one was good enough to actually deserve you, especially not him. However your speech made him open to the idea that maybe he was at least worthy of your love. 

Your love. 

You both realised in the same moment that the word was shared between you. You had never shared the faithful declaration of love to each other since you had been together romantically, and yet now you had mentioned love twice in the span of thirty seconds. JJ smiled as he held you. You loved him, and this was one of the ways that you showed it. 

“Let's get the chlorine out of your hair J.” 

He let you massage his scalp with the shampoo that he's seen you use before to get pool chemicals out of your hair. He didn’t really know what it did or how it was different from other shampoos but, it smelled like you and he loved getting his head rubbed. His breathing was still shaky, but he finally felt some of his anxiety from the day wearing off. Fighting with you was something he never wanted to do again. Fighting with his dad was something he knew he would have to do the next time he went home. He elected to ignore those thoughts, as your fingers worked magic on his hair, seemingly drawing all of the negative ideas out of his head along with the chlorine. 

As JJ rinsed his hair of soap, he noticed you reaching for the bottle again, no doubt to wash your own hair. He holds out his hand, wordlessly asking if he could wash your hair for you, like you had done for him. This makes you grin as you hand him the bottle. JJ then realises that he doesn’t really know how to do what you did for him. That kind of small, soft, intimate touching was foreign to him. 

He squeezes way too much shampoo into his hand, but you pay that no mind. He starts slow, trying to remember the way your fingers moved on his scalp, but in the end knowing that he just wasn’t good at giving head massages. 

“I used way too much.” He states, watching as suds continue to produce from your locks.  

“It’s okay.” You hum watching the bubbles disappear down the drain. “I set out clothes for you when you’re ready, I’m probably gonna be another minute” You tell him, referring to the other bottles you had in the shower that you still had to use. 

“Okay, thank you” He kisses you as he exits the shower. You finish up quickly, wanting to be next to him, and hoping that his thoughts as he sits alone don’t carry him away like they had before. 

You find that he left his tee shirt for you, like he had on nights before. You wear the shirt that smelled of him along with a pair of comfortable running shorts and head to the spare bedroom of the chateau that JJ called his most nights. 

You spot JJ sitting at the edge of the bed, waiting for you. You slowly and carefully climb onto his lap, straddling him and holding his head close to your chest. You notice anxiety still radiating off of him. 

“Hey,” You start softly. “It’s okay, everythings okay-” 

“I love you” He states bluntly as he picks up his head from your chest. 

“What?” You stumble, surprised at his outburst. 

“I love you, and I want to be with you, like, publically, or whatever. I wanna tell the Pouges and-” before he starts rambling, you stop him. 

“I love you too JJ.” This pauses him. 

“Say it again.” 

You giggle, but inhale, knowing that he needs to hear it. 

“JJ.” You start. “I love you.” 

He lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding, eyes watering for the millionth time. 

“I still don’t think that I deserve this.” He admits, looking into your eyes with his crystal clear blue ones. 

“You do.” You push his hair back from his face. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you that you do.” 

He was hesitant to accept everything that you had said to him that day, but he never doubted that you would give him your all. This was all he needed to know before he allowed himself fully over to you, kissing you with more desperation and love than ever before. 

“I love you so much.” You muttered into his lips, and from that day on, you would say it again and again, as many times as he needed to hear it. A constant reminder to him that he was deserving and worthy of good, of love, and of you.

Taglist:  @maybe-maybanks​  @myrandom-fandomlife​

[lunaekalenda]

So I have this idea for the longest time now and I would like to see if you can make something out of it 😂

STORY TIME! Marley has something similar to the witches trial going on and witch!reader runs away to Paradis, joining the scouts and she and levi get all lovey dovey. After a while, they discover that she's from Marley and think that she's betraying them, so they make a pact with Zeke to give her back in exchange to leave Paradis alone. Soon everyone realize that she didn't betrayed them and was about to be burned. Fluffy ending where she's saved or angst 😈

wooooow i'm buYING IT!!!!!! i love witch concept omg, i hope you like it!! <3

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❁ levi x witch!reader

❁ mention of death, witches trial, death by burning, stitching :'), mention of con sex, season 4 and manga minor spoilers.

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You were only five when they burned your neighbor in the public place. It was a cold day, your mother's arm around your shoulders, her gaze searching silently the other witches of your coven. They were looking at their friend, their superior, being licked by flames. But she was totally straight, her eyes fixed on the cardenal. He was smiling.

Now you're running out of Marley. The trials are more and more popular. They judged half of your coven. Your mother told you to leave, to use your power to escape. So, after taking something to eat and a cape, you started running. Running until you saw the ocean. You look at both sides, making sure there’s no one around you, before closing your eyes and concentrate in the sound of your crow, possessing it’s body. You start to fly, searching land to stop at. You look around, a little island can be seen some kilometers away. You’re tired oof running, but you think you can arrive there. You keep flying, more and more tired. You’re near, but you can see tents in the beach. There are tents. And people. Your mind starts to panic. Transforming in front of this people will make you suspect. You look to the little forest near the beach. It seems empty. You fly towards there, really really tired. You start to notice how your body gets heavier. And, faster than you thought, your human body was back, making you fall into the ocean. The water enters on your nose and ears, and makes your dress heavier. You swim, but you’re so tired, and your head hurts because of the impact. You let your body connect with the sea, the waves hugging you. 

“Please, take me to that island, mother Ocean.” the salty waves start to rock softly, making you near to the beach little by little. Your eyes start to close, the sweet movement of the sea relaxes you. You’re so tired...

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“It’s a girl, captain.” You hear the voice of a boy near. Also, some people mumbling around. You start to open your eyes, finding a girl pointing you with a gun. The boy who talked, extremely tall, looks at you again. “She’s awake.” There is a lot of people around you. Boys and girls, all dressed in black, are talking about the girl that appeared on the sea.

“Who of you took her out of the ocean?” a deep voice is heard. You stay quiet, the brown-eyed girl keeps pointing her gun at you. A man enters your vision camp. His grey eyes examined you from above. His gaze was serious.

“I did.” a black haired girl talked. “What should we do with her, Captain Levi?”

Levi looks at you, and you keep your eyes on his. His eyebrow raises.

“Should we kill her?” a boy says.

“No! we should interrogate her!” someone says. 

“Tsch, shut up you all.” The man keeps looking at you. His sharp features make him look so attractive... “From where do you come?” he asks. You have to think, or use your powers. It’s highly improbable that they count with another witch on their team, so no one is going to notice how you research a close town. You choose a blonde boy. You concentrate in his brain, searching info. Armin. 19 years. Shinganshina district.

"Shiganshina district." you say. Levi looks at you, trying to know if you’re telling the truth. He clicks his tongue. The blonde boy looks to the girl with a scarf, and she looks to a long-haired boy next to her.

“Do you know her?” Levi asks. The three of them shake their heads, but it was easy to change their opinion. 

Change people’s memories is not that hard for a witch of your level. Just making your face appear in one of them’s memories.

“Oh, I know her!” the long-haired boy talks now. “I think her family lived behind me.”

Levi looked at him, and then back at you.

“Sorry for you, but you can’t go back to Shinganshina. You’ll have to stay here for a bit.” A person with glasses shows behind him.

“Levi, let me talk to her.” they ask. He helps you to get up, but you still feel the gun pointing at your back. “I’m Hange Zöe, the Commander of the Survey Corps. You’re in our camp, near the coast. Since we don’t have information about you, you’ll be held here. You can choose to be helpful for us, either training with our soldiers to help us, or doing some paperwork or cleaning. I’m sure Levi can help you in any way.” The man keeps being on your side. “Then, what do you choose?” They ask, smiling at you.

“I work as a tailor, so I guess I can help with...”

“Oh, so you can sew wounds!” They say.

I wasn’t going to say that... you think for yourself

“Well, I only sewed clothes, but...”

"We need help with that, so you'll stitch the survey clothes and soldiers!" they say. Levi sighed and then reached your back with his hand.

"I'll show you your dorm."

Since a lot of soldiers where living there, as Levi told you, you got a shared room with a couple girls of the military. Sasha Braus and Mikasa Ackerman where your new roommates. Mikasa is really aware around you, just in case you're a traitor. Sasha, in the other hand, is really close to you, although she was the one pointing you with a gun. The first weeks you stayed there, it went really well: Sasha showed you the camp, presented to you the people and sat with you for eating. You tried to not use your powers that much, just in real emergency cases. All this time, you felt gazes on you, curiosity or hate gazes, but one was more heavy than others: a pair of intense grey eyes. Levi Ackerman had his eyes on you since you arrived here, months ago now, maybe because he's a Captain and has to neutralize every single danger he sees. Maybe that's why you feel him when you eat, run or work. He also goes and sits near to you, doing paperwork while you sew someone's coat.

"You're good. I'm sure your stitches won't leave a scar." he says. You keep sewing the coat, this time is Connie's coat. His gaze totally fixed on the letters he has on his hands. He has been looking for you for half a year now. He also has a strange flirty game on going, he likes to get closer to you and look at your body, but then he acts cold for a while. You sigh.

"I don't think so..."

Unfortunately, you had the opportunity to try on him days later, after an attack. His back needed stitches. So, there he was, half undressed and covered on blood, waiting for you to start bounding him. You started to pass the sew. The sensation of the needle trespassing his skin was horrible, but you tried to make your best. He didn't say a thing, with a piece of cloth in his mouth. You felt his jaw bitting the cloth with strength, trying not to move. You thought his endurance of pain is in levels you didn't know a human could reach.

You could have cured him with magic, but if they know it, they'll probably send you back to Marley, if they don't kill you in the moment. Once you finished, he stayed there, sitting, with some saliva dripping from the corner of his mouth after releasing the cloth. He passed his hand fast, cleaning it.

"Try not to move..."

"I got my skin stitched a hundred times and fought five minutes after." he says. "But thank you."

All the hours he spent by your side, doing paperwork and that stuff, you realized you found him attractive. His voice, his grey eyes, the way he looks at his friends. You want to be looked that way.

No, you want more.

Maybe it was a stupid idea. But you felt so attracted to him, like if his aura was calling yours. Your hand reached his back, the way his muscles tense with the touch. He looked at you from above his shoulder. You traced a little drawing on his skin, a no-sense form down his back. Surprisingly, he didn't ask you what the hell where you doing or moved away.

You wanted to know if he was even just a bit interested in you, but using magic will break totally the moment. So you kept moving your hands on his skin. It was warm, almost hot. He sighed. His hands dropped the shirt he was about to put on, and his muscles started to relax. At the same time, you got closer to him. Maybe he needed to unburden. Maybe he has been there for months, in need of a girl like you to help him. Your hands moved to his shoulders, dangerously near his neck. He raises his head, eyes closed. He's enjoying it, no doubt. His bony hands are now on his legs.

"Captain..." you ask quietly. "Are you feeling good?" he hums in answer. His back is totally relaxed now, and his eyes are still closed. The way he has his head, thrown back, lets you see his adam's apple, another attractive point of him. You wanted to kiss the point of his neck where it connects with his shoulders. His lips, always on a inexpressive facade. You wanted him to be a mess, asking for more. You wanted his bony hands marking your waist and his fingers ruining your hair. "Do you want me to stop?" your voice goes out like a whisper. He breathes in, deeply.

"No." His voice is raspy. He looks at you again, his grey gaze shining with... maybe interest? curiosity? desire? Maybe a mix of those three. "I never got someone to massage me after a battle. It feels nice."

Your heart skips a beat when you hear that. Was it your opportunity to tell him you feel attracted to him?

If it wasn't, you didn't care.

"Well, I could do this to you a hundred times, Captain." Your hand goes up and down his back, being careful with his stitched wound. "I was getting kinda confused, Levi..." you say. His back tenses again, but he lets you continue. "Why do you lend closer to me, but then act cold for days? I never got it." He takes a deep breath again.

"I'm a Captain. I'm in charge of a full squad of humans. Really good but kinda dumb humans." he says. "They're my responsibility and my team. I can't get distracted and lose a single one of them." he says. You nod, understanding.

"Wow, that's..." That's exactly how covens work. In Marley, witches are the worst of the worst. And the Island people, demons. You thought maybe you're not that different, after all. "That's amazing, Levi."

His eyes shot open after hearing that. You weren't telling him his sword abilities are amazing or his control of the ODMS. You were telling him his way, his human being, was amazing. But he called you a distraction. You stand up. But his hand reaches your wrist.

"Oi." he calls you. "Come back here."

"I don't want to distract you, I understand your..." his voice interrupts you.

"You asked why I always act cold with you, right? Because if I didn't have to go and kill those damn titans and marleyans I would had kissed you a while ago." he says. So, after all, he does found you interesting, at least.

Your mum always said that a boy only wants a girl because of sex. That's why she obligated you to wear vanila perfume, one that she made. It shows you the true intentions of the people around you. You concentrate on Levi's aura.

You're not going to lie. Levi's aura is a bright red. He finds you attractive, and now he wants you. But even your aura looks like that.

So, two adults that want each other, what could go wrong?

That's why you kissed him. His lips quickly adapting to your pace, owning the kiss. He catches his breath.

"Are you sure about this?" his voice is even lower, his eyes darker. You nod. He caresses your blushed cheek with his thumb. Minutes later, your dress was mixed with his shirt, as well as your breath was mixed with his.

"Your back..." you told him. He was above you, so attractive. His sharp jaw tensed when your bodies touched.

"My back is fine." he says.

His hand traveled down your waist, your hands tangled on his hair, and his name was just a repetition on your mouth.

❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁

Next morning, Levi is still asleep when you wake up. His handsome face is close to yours, and one of his hands rests in your back. You get up silently, dressing fast. You search your necklace, the one with magic properties.

"Searching this?" he asks. Your necklace is on his hand. "Witch." he adds. He gets up, totally undressed, and takes his pants from the floor. Starts to pull them on.

"N-no, you're..."

"We have been in a lot of missions on Marley." he says. "And all the prints in the streets advertised people about women with this necklace." he gets closer to you, really close. His eyes are fixed on yours. "Did you bewitched me?" You shake your head. Twice.

"I didn't"

"I've heard some witches work for Marley's government as spies." he says, looking at your necklace. "Are you also fucking the Marleyan commander?" he asks. He was being mean. "Lucky you, a man is coming later from Marley. Maybe if I give you to them, they will stop attacking us, hm?"

He was angry. He has his reasons.

He wanted to stop talking when he saw the first tears running down your cheeks. He wanted to stop, but he couldn't. He was angry, thinking you bewitched him.

"You slept with me because you witches need a intimate bond to enter on my brain, right?" you shake your head again. He was so wrong, you never wanted to hurt him.

"Levi, I..." he put your necklace on his pocket. You were weak without it.

"Tell that to Zeke."

Zeke Jaeger.

Was him the same Zeke?

Zeke Jaeger never, never, absolves a witch.

"But he's going to kill me." you cry. Levi keeps getting dressed normally. He doesn't say nothing. How could he be so blind? Your necklace was always there, when he was cursing on your neck because of how good you felt. It was there.

But he found it this morning, when he moved and collided with your body.

Zeke landed on Paradis that afternoon. Levi told Sasha to look up for you, and the girl had his gun pointing at you since you came back from Levi's tent. Sasha and Mikasa didn't believe him.

"But if she is a spy, she should have tried to enter the archives or get information from Hange or Armin."

"And she even cured Levi a couple times!" Mikasa says.

Levi thought about it when you were going back to Marley. The pact is done, but, making rewind, you were never a dangerous person. Even Sasha asked you from where you were and she told Levi you were escaping from Marley! He's feeling bad now. He should had listened to you. And, fuck, he had your necklace. You were so easy to kill now. He knows they were going to judge you tomorrow morning. If they're fast enough...

"Damn!" he yells. Hange, sitting on the desk next to him, gets surprised. Levi goes out of the tent without a word, entering the cantina, where Sasha talks with Niccolo, adoration on his eyes, and Mikasa tells Eren to eat more. He searches the crowded table.

"Jean, Mikasa, Sasha. We're going on a mission."

❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁    ❁❁❁❁

Moving on Marley at nights is so easy. The amount of drunk people and drunk guards is huge, so entering the prision is quite easy for Paradis' demons. Guided by Levi and his blades, the other ones enter on the prision were you're kept, your arms and legs bonded to a corner. Levi runs on the corridor, searching your cage. He found you easily: your pretty body snuggled on a corner and your low crying sounds making his heart break.

"Y/N!" Sasha says quietly, but with happiness.

"Sasha?" you ask. You see her ponytail bouncing behind her. And also all the other's figures.

They came. For you.

Even Levi is there.

His gaze is low and he's not looking at you in the eyes, as he usually do. Sasha looks around and tells Jean to look to the other corridor. Mikasa and Levi examinate the door.

"It's closed with magic." you whisper. "A witch that works for Marley did it. That's why there's no place for a key." Levi keeps looking at the ground.

"Isn't your magic strong enough to undo it?"

"They made me enter here without my necklace. They know it has all my power inside. Without it, I'm a human."

Levi reaches his pocket quickly, taking out the blue necklace.

"Oh, Captain you have it!" Mikasa says. Levi nods in silence, putting his arm between the bars. You get up and walk towards him. Your hands are really close, but you'll never be close enough to touch him. He swings the collar towards you and you take it, putting it around your neck once again. You feel how magic runs again on your veins.

"Are we going to see how she makes magic?" Jean says, truly amazed.

"Is she going to shine or transform?" Sasha asks at the same time.

"Now you should be able to open." you say. Jean and Sasha look at the other.

"What? Without thunders or lights?"

"Well, she's bleeding." Mikasa says. It's true that unmaking a curse is more tiring than making one, and the ones made to capture are really strong. That's why your nose is bleeding a bit. Once you're out, Levi takes a tissue for you.

"Thanks" you whisper. He also takes out a letter, written with his elegant handwriting. "For Zeke" it prays.

"No one in this door. We can leave." Jean says.

Outside, Levi takes you from your waist, and elevates the two of you with his ODM.

"Sorry." you both say at the same time. You let put a little laugh. "I should have told you the truth."

"You deserved to be listened." he says. His face is buried on your hair. He has you by his side now.

"Tie?" he laughs a bit.

"Tie"

After this, Zeke found the letter, of course. He was there, at Marley, getting angry because of a girl with a dangerous necklace.

Necklace that is stored in a drawer, while your head rests in the Captain's shoulder, back again at Paradis.

[bucketslutz]

Godspeed

Summary: You've been working as Marcus Moreno's assistant for years, but during all this time you've also been hopelessly in love with him. You're unsure if he feels the same way, but as of late you've been catching him stare at you. He's said things that have seemed to have an ulterior definition and it's made you suspicious of his feelings. When a pipe bursts in your apartment, leaving your home unlivable while it's being renovated, Marcus invites you to stay with him and Missy till it's fixed. Will you fold and finally confess your feelings for him?

You can read Godspeed on AO3 here.

Warnings: 18+, smut, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, Marcus takes reader’s v-card, fluff, domestic-ish, AFAB reader, bisexual reader.

If Marcus was good at one thing, it was making your job a million times harder than it needed to be. He didn’t do it on purpose, he just tended to be more forgetful than you’d expected someone of his reputation to be. Whether it’d be meetings with the Heroics, grocery shopping, or even Missy’s parent teacher conferences, everything always managed to slip his mind. You suppose it is your job to keep track of all these things for him, remind him, and make sure he stays on top of all of his responsibilities. When he hired you, you were still a junior in college and his wife had passed away only a year prior. You didn’t expect that you’d be using your BA in international relations to be babysitting a grown man, but you don’t mind. He pays you substantially and he’s taught you so much over the years. You’re thankful that he even considered you for the job, the leader of the Heroics, when you’re far from interesting yourself. But he’s always been so kind and patient with you. Your first day you were fumbling over everything; you spilled coffee on his white button up, you accidentally packed Missy a peanut butter sandwich in her school lunch when she has a severe peanut allergy (luckily Marcus had glanced inside the unzipped lunchbox and swiftly threw it away), and you forgot to go grocery shopping that day. You hid inside the half bath off of the living room and cried from the stress, feeling like an absolute and complete fuck-up. Marcus knocked ever-so-gently on the door and you choked out a measly “I’m fine. Be out soon,” as a response. He didn’t buy it, obviously as he heard your sniffling from down the hall, and opened the door with a concerned look on his face. You were sitting on the floor, absolutely spent from the emotionally exhausting day. He got down with you and comforted you, talked you down from the breakdown and explained that he knew his schedule will take some time to get used to, but you’re a capable and strong individual who will catch on quickly.

“Cariña, I’m not disappointed in you. Mistakes will happen, you’ve gotta break a few eggs sometimes to make an omelette,” he told you with a wink, which caused you to snort at his very dad-ish remark; at that point, you had already forgotten about all the things you screwed up that day and was ready to start fresh tomorrow. And he was right, you caught on quickly. He’d begun saying a million times how life has seemed to have gotten easier since you entered it. You could’ve sworn there was a glint of something behind his eyes when he’d say it, maybe admiration, respect, perhaps even love. But you’d brush it off with a modest smile, trying to soften the weight of his words by saying you’re just doing what you’re being paid to do. He’d shake his head, trying his best to make you understand how much you’ve impacted his life. But you’re not used to someone insisting you deserve more respect than you give yourself, and Marcus showers you in praise every single day. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find the compliments flattering, especially coming from someone like him. You’ve always found him very attractive, even before you started working for him. A lot of your friends in college would tease you about it, not finding him nearly as charismatic as Miracle Guy, but you stuck to your guns. You’d hoped that when you met him you wouldn’t be disappointed, praying that he was just as kind in person as he appeared to be on the news. But now that you know him, he’s more than kind...he’s considerate, caring, patient, and a wonderful father. You’re beyond lucky to have met someone like him. He’s changed your life for the better, and you’ll never stop being grateful for his generosity. He makes it too easy to fall in love with him; his warm smile, chocolate brown eyes, his dad jokes. You even love the parts of him that wouldn’t necessarily be that interesting to anyone else, yet they are to you; the way he eats sandwiches by nibbling all the crust off of the sides then working his way to the middle in a circular pattern, or the way he hates to make his bed because he’s “just going to get back in it at the end of the day anyways,” or how he sometimes takes a minute to get a joke in a movie or TV show and will laugh for way longer than he needs to. You’ve been hopelessly in love with him for years now, and it’s made your job uncomfortable from time to time. 

Once he started going back in the field, he’d come back to his house in immense pain every day. And for a little while, you just gave him some advil and a heating pad to leave him to his devices. But the pain and discomfort got worse, and he suggested a massage would relieve the pain. Which of course it would, and you should have no problem doing that for him. He wasn’t even necessarily asking you, he just said that a massage would feel better and he should go get one. But you still took it upon yourself to give him one anyways, perhaps as an excuse to touch him, but you care about him and you wanted him to feel better. He protested, of course, not wanting to inconvenience you, but he ultimately succumbed when you straddled his back and began rubbing his sore muscles. You did everything in your power to not seem as turned on by his groans of pleasure as you were; trying to hide the way your breath hitched when he choked out a “Yes, right there. Perfect,” between his shallow grunts. He had you in the palm of his hand, and he didn’t even know it. Your best friend has been telling you to make a move for months, but you’re too shy, and you’re not even sure if he feels the same way. He could very well want all of his assistants to stay for dinner, or movie night, or offer to let you stay in the guest bedroom when a pipe burst in your apartment leaking water all over your living room. You didn’t want to accept at first, feeling like you’d be overstepping, but Marcus insisted. He said he and Missy didn’t mind, especially considering you were way better at cooking meals than he was. You finally accepted the offer, figuring it’d also be way easier to work when you’re in closer quarters. You’d be cutting out commute time, and you wouldn’t have to get up so early to get there in time to make breakfast before Missy leaves for school. And you do love sleeping. So you accepted, what’s the worst that could happen? It’s not like you’ll confess your love for him while you’re staying over; so long as you stay away from the alcohol.

You knock gently on Marcus’ bedroom door and call out his name softly, coffee cup and newspaper in hand. You hear a muffled groan in response, and take that as your cue to enter. Cracking the door open, you see him laying on his stomach tangled up in his sheets with a pillow covering his head. He hated mornings.

“Marcus, it’s time to get up. You have a meeting this morning,” you coo as you enter his bedroom. He rolls over and pulls his head out from under his pillow, sporting the worst bedhead you’ve seen on him yet; you bite back a laugh.

“It’s early,” he grumbles, obviously very groggy from his slumber. You settle on the edge of the bed, offering him the cup of coffee to which he sits up and takes the mug from you eagerly.

“You didn’t see me complaining about the hour when I had to get up at 4 am and bust my ass here every morning, just so I could make breakfast for you and your daughter,” you snide playfully. You don’t resent him for that, and he knows that. He works hard and has a lot on his plate, and he knows you understand that. But it’s become almost like a running joke between the two of you that he can’t complain because “you have it harder.”

“Touché,” he says, pausing to say your name, “Touché.” He takes a few sips of his coffee and holds his hand out for the newspaper, which you then hand to him. He takes a quick sip, contentedly. “Mm, why is it whenever I make coffee it takes like dirty socks, but when you do it, it tastes like heaven. Are you hiding a fancy coffee maker here that I don’t know about?”

“Hm, don’t know. Maybe I’m magic,” you remark jovially, smiling warmly at him. His eyes lock onto yours for a moment and he returns the smile.

“Yeah, something about you sure is magic,” he says, that familiar glint of... something in his eyes. Then he gets up from under his covers and pats your leg with the newspaper as he exits his bedroom, leaving you feeling strange after that encounter. Not a bad strange, you just sensed there was an air of something hanging around him. You’ve been feeling that a lot with him for a while. He’s just said or done things that hinted at meaning more than what it was, but you’ve been trying to brush it off as you looking for something that wasn’t there. You stood up from his bed, tidying up his covers a little so they no longer looked like someone just rolled out of them. You shook your head at the sight of some of his dirty clothes scattered all over the floor and took it upon yourself to pick them up and toss them in his hamper for you to wash later this afternoon. Making your way downstairs, you can hear Marcus shuffling around in the kitchen, humming the chorus of Raspberry Beret by Prince. Another thing you loved about him, he was always humming something around the house, to Missy’s dismay, but you never got tired of it. It warmed your heart to see him so happy. While you didn’t know him before the passing of his wife, you could tell that it still brought him down sometimes when you first started working for him. He’d come home late from work, immediately go to the liquor cabinet, and lock himself in his office for the rest of the night. A year or so ago he finally went through her old things with you and got rid of a lot of stuff. He kept a lot of her belongings, mostly for Missy, but was finally ready to throw a lot of her things away. So the times when you hear him singing absentmindedly, it reminds you that he’s healing and it makes you happy to finally see that after so many years of grief. Entering the kitchen, you cross over to the island and finish plating Marcus’ and Missy’s pancakes; Marcus was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper and sipping on his coffee. You set his plate in front of him and he glances up at you, smiling brightly.

“Thanks, these look great. Do these have bananas in them?” he asks excitedly.

“Yep, of course,” you reply with a grin, running your hand over his shoulder before turning back to cross over to the island. You know full well his favorite breakfast is banana pancakes, so you make them for him whenever he has to get up extra early for meetings.

“You know me too well,” he teases, spreading a glob of softened butter on the top of his pancake. You hear footsteps descending the staircase rapidly and the appearance of Missy in the kitchen shortly thereafter, dressed and ready for school.

“Hi dad!” she greets her father, then you, and settles in her chair at the kitchen table. You set her plate of pancakes in front of her along with a small plate of bacon. Marcus glances at you, then the bacon, then back at you, his eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Why does she get bacon and I get fruit?” he whines, through a mouthful of pancake.

“Because you’re susceptible to heartburn, Missy is not,” you tell him, smacking his hand as he reaches for one of her slices. Missy sticks her tongue out at her father, teasing him as she munches on her bacon. “Quit your whining, Moreno. Fruit is good for you.”

“Outnumbered and outwitted,” he remarks dejectedly, poking at the fruit on his plate. You roll your eyes at his dramatics and finish plating your own breakfast, with extra pieces of the assorted fruits that you especially love. You catch Marcus’ gaze lingering on you for longer than what would be considered “a passing glance.” Once you lock eyes with him, he turns his head back to his newspaper immediately pretending he wasn’t just staring at you. Okay, you can safely say now that he’s officially been acting weird. You don’t have the energy nor the time right now to address his behavior, so you opt to join him and Missy at the table and silently finish your breakfast before you have to drive Missy to school.

…

  These chores have been kicking your ass today. You were too preoccupied with the burst pipe in your apartment last week that you weren’t able to do the laundry, so now you’re gifted with two weeks worth of laundry to wash, dry, iron, fold, and put away. It’s almost the end of the work day and you just finished folding the last load. You huff as you haul the basket up the stairs and down the hall to Marcus’ bedroom. You hum absentmindedly as you put his clothes away, tuning out your surroundings as your music blasts through your earbuds. This is the only part of laundry you really like. Firstly, because it’s the easiest part, and secondly because you get to listen to your music in peace without anyone bothering you. Being in the house alone means you can scream/sing the lyrics to your favorite songs without Marcus or Missy making fun of you. Except you didn’t realize you weren’t home alone right now, because Marcus has been watching you, leaning against the threshold of his bedroom door. You stopped dead in your tracks and startled when you noticed his presence. Clutching your chest with your hand you laugh out of embarrassment.

“Marcus, what the fuck? Why didn’t you tell me you were here?” you ask, frustrated that he just completely ruined your vibe.

“I like hearing you sing. I’ve got my own concert right here in the comfort of my own home,” he half teases, half remarks flirtily at you. He’s staring you up and down, as if you were a sight for sore eyes in your ripped mom jeans and bleach dyed t-shirt. Your hair was lazily thrown up into a messy bun for convenience, some strands hanging around your face to frame it. 

“Whatcha listening to?” he asks, crossing towards you.

“Um, Godspeed, by Frank Ocean. You wouldn’t know him, as his career exists post-Prince and Queen, grandpa,” you joke playfully. He shakes his head and rests his hands on his hips.

“Alright, indulge me then. I wanna listen.” Sighing, you oblige and pull your phone out of your pocket and tuck your earbuds away. You start the song over from the beginning and turn the volume all the way up as the song begins. Marcus stares off and listens intently, taking in the synthetic sounds that prelude the lyrics. Once Frank Ocean begins singing, a small smile appears on his face and he nods his head.

“I like that, reminds me of you,” he says sweetly, offering his hand out to you. You glare at it suspiciously, not really sure what he’s asking. “Dance with me.” A blush creeps up on your cheeks and you take his hand happily.

Marcus moves one of his hands to the small of your back while the other clutches yours. You bring your hand to his shoulder and begin swaying with him to the music, singing along to the lyrics softly. He’s staring deep into your eyes and trailing his hand up and down your back, leaving goosebumps wherever it goes. You’ve never felt more in love with him than in this moment. He’s content just swaying with you and staring into your soul. And this song reminds him of you. Because of what? Is this how he feels about you? There will be mountains you won’t move. Still I’ll always be there for you, how I do. He has always been there for you. He’s said he will a million times; when your dad died and your mom became estranged, he didn’t expect anything of you. All he did was text or call you ever-so-often to check in on you and make sure you were doing okay. He was one of the only people who really made you feel cared for at that time. That’s when you fell in love with him. You realized that you wouldn’t have gotten through that without his support and care. He and Missy dropped off a gift bag of all of your favorite snacks and movies one night and they spent the evening with you watching movies. Missy fell asleep on your couch and you fell asleep leaning against Marcus’ chest. It was the best you’d slept since your father’s passing. The song ends, leaving you and Marcus swaying to silence, anticipating each other’s next move. Eventually you both stop swaying, your hands move up to lace around the back of his neck and his move to cradle the small of your back. His mouth keeps parting and he inhales sharply, as if he’s about to say something, but he’ll purse his lips, second-guessing himself. You don’t know how, but you know what he wants to say. You can feel it as you look into his eyes. You can feel it when you catch him staring at you. You can feel it every time he enters a room.

“Say it, Marcus,” you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. You stare at him desperately, you want, no--need to hear him say it. Because you both know how he feels. He just needs to say it. He stares at you lovingly, and brings one of his shaky hands up to brush a stray strand of hair out of your face. You inhale sharply at his touch, anticipating the words you’ve been wanting to hear him say for years.

“I’m in love with you,” he admits, his voice dripping in his signature rasp, saying your name as if he was blessed by the gods themselves to have the ability to say it. “I’m hopelessly in love with you, cariña. I always have been, and I always will be.”

Your heart beats out of its chest by his admission, your stomach somersaulting and your skin ablaze. I love you, Marcus. Truly, deeply, I do. Your eyes begin to well up, not from sadness, or even joy, but from relief. After years of uncertainty, wonder, even frustration, you finally know how he feels about you. How he’s always felt. It feels as though a weight’s been lifted off of your shoulders. You love him. You’ll shout it from the rooftops, if you have to. I love him, I love him, I love him, I love him. Tears begin sliding down your face as Marcus cups your cheek with the palm of his hand. You nuzzle into his touch, revelling in the way he so effortlessly cares for you.

“I love you, Marcus. I always have,” you finally confess, your voice shaky from the crying. You sniffle and let out a light laugh in relief. You finally said it, and so did he. His eyes look glassy, and he appears to be biting back tears. He smiles lovingly at you, clearing his throat to try and push down the lump that’s been forming. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, stroking your head with the pad of his thumb as he does so, and pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly. He cradles the back of your head while his other hand wraps tightly around your back. Your arms hook under his, clutching his back eagerly.

“I love you too, cariña,” he whispers, his lips pressed atop your head. You close your eyes, revelling in his hold on you for a moment before you decide to pull away and look up into his eyes.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, your eyes searching his for the need you have to lock your lips with his. He doesn’t hesitate to dip his head and pinch your chin, tilting it up towards his face, and sealing his admission of love with a needy, gentle kiss. You sigh into the kiss, feeling sparks all throughout your body. He pulls you into his chest, your body now flush against his and your arms wrapping around his neck. He slides his tongue along your closed lips and you part them, welcoming his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues tangle, the both of you needily searching each other’s mouths. His hands begin roaming your body, sliding up and down your waist, toying with the hem of your top and grazing his fingers over the skin of your lower back. As if he was asking permission to slide his hands up your bare back. You nudge his arm lazily and he complies, sliding his hands up your spine leaving goosebumps in his wake. You gasp against his lips as his hands explore your back, pressing further into him as best as you can. He mumbles into the kiss, gripping your bare waist.

“Mm, Missy home?” he asks against your lips. You shake your head, of course he’d forgotten that she was staying over at a friend’s; you had to bust your ass this afternoon running errands and trying to drop her off in time.

“Friend’s house,” you tell him between kisses. He nods, tugging the fabric of your shirt up.

“Do you want me to take this off, honey?” he asks gently, his lips moving from yours to your cheek then your neck as he trails love bites up and down the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck.

“Yes, please,” you reply breathlessly. He slips your top over your head leaving you in your bra. Not wanting to be the only one shirtless, you bring your fingers up to his tie and loosen it before slipping it over his head, working impatiently on the buttons of his dress shirt. Soon you’re both shirtless, chests heaving as your lips lock together feverishly once again. He starts pushing you towards the bed till your calves meet it.

“Lay down--if-if that’s-if you’re okay with that, cariña,” Marcus says, trying his best to seem assertive, but in his heart he’s too gentle and caring to force you to do anything. You roll your eyes and spin him around, shoving him back onto the bed and climbing onto his lap. Supporting your weight by pressing your hands to his bare chest, you dip down to kiss him again. This time they were sloppy and needy, you wanted to savor every bit of him and memorize the way his lips melted into yours. The way his stubble poked your lip, the way his tongue glided across yours, the feeling of his breath against your face. His hands slide down to grip your ass, kneading it through your jeans. You grin into the kiss, enjoying his hands all over you and the way he’s possessively groping your ass.

“Take off my bra,” you command against his lips. He nods eagerly, his fingers fumbling with the straps of your bra before finally releasing the clasp at the back. You shrug off your bra and slip your arms out of the straps, the garment falling onto his bare chest. He chuckles once it plops onto him, he tosses it to the floor and smiles up at you giddily; he looks at you as if you just gave him the best thing you could have ever given him. You roll your eyes at his excitement.

“Why are you so excited? You never seen a pair of boobs before?” you tease, a blush creeping over his face as he realizes you’ve noticed the way he’s been ogling your chest.

“I just never thought you’d let me look at you like this,” he says, with a slightly somber tone. Did he really think you weren’t going to love him back? He must’ve been feeling the same way you have all these years; the yearning, the pining, and the pain of never really being sure if they loved you in return. But you were here now, on top of him in his bed without a shirt on. You grab his arms and pull him up towards you so he’s sitting up, while you remain straddling his lap. He strokes your face tenderly, taking every bit of you in. You turn your cheek into his touch and plant a chaste kiss against his palm, Marcus smiles at you in return. Your heart could not be full of any more love right now. The way he’s looking at you, touching you, kissing you...you’ve never felt this much love from anyone at once. You don’t think you’ve loved anyone like you’ve loved Marcus. Even though you haven’t really had a serious relationship since high school, a relationship that scared you away from love, but you still didn’t think that you’d let someone enter your heart again. Marcus proved to you from the beginning that he’d never hurt you, so you’ve always trusted him, which is something that you don’t like giving away so easily. Truth is, you’ve not even let a man look at you naked since you were a freshman in college; he was an asshole who took advantage of you and your body. And when you told him you weren’t ready to go all the way, as you’re still a virgin, he was fine with it...Till he decided to ghost you the next day. That made your experiences with men even more volatile. It left such a bad taste in your mouth that you never got around to actually having sex with a man. You got by in college with occasional hookups with women, but you always made sure to leave before they woke up, so as to avoid any festering feelings. Marcus got you to a point in your life where you could trust someone like him, finally. He’s treated you well, he’s loved you more than anyone ever has, he’s taken his time with you by being ever-so-patient. And he will always be your rock no matter what.

“Marcus, I want you to see the rest of me,” you whisper, holding his face in your hands. He smiles warmly at you, his coffee-colored eyes holding every ounce of your pain you’ve allowed him to hear and see. He obliges immediately, stripping you of the rest of your clothes, stroking your exposed skin with his feather-like touch. He’s gentle, loving, caressing your skin like you might crumble under his fingertips if he applies too much pressure. You straddle his clothed lap now completely naked, your slick lips gliding over the rough fabric of his jeans as his erection applies intoxicating pressure against the length of your cunt. Your lips are tangled together hungrily, but he kisses you slow and sensually as he searches your lips with his own, his tongue sliding inside your mouth.

“Let me see the rest of you too,” you whisper against his mouth, your fingers dipping down to his belt buckle as you pry it open. He nods his head and aids you in taking off his pants till he’s now clad in his black briefs. He groans as you palm his erection through his briefs, feeling his dick twitch under your touch as you glide your fingers up and down its tense length. He gasps into the kiss, sensitive and responsive to your hold on his cock. You tug on the elastic of his briefs and yank them down, Marcus adjusts so you can pull them down his legs more easily. His dick springs free, dripping with pre cum and twitching with need. Your pelvis settles firmly against his, Marcus’ cock sliding between your pussy lips and nudging your clit gently. You whimper against his lips as each thrust of his hips results in the head of his dick flicking your sensitive nub. Your clit aches for more friction, needing his fingers in your pussy and for him to stroke you. You grip his wrist and bring it between your legs, urging them into your dripping core.

“You want me to touch you, cariña?” Marcus grunts into your ear, his fingers tracing your entrance. His hot breath tickles your ear and makes your pussy clench with need.

“Marcus, my clit--please, baby,” you whimper against his neck. You thrust against his fingers, attempting to force them inside you, but he avoids your advances. He finally slides his finger up through your lips and to your clit, flicking the aching, swollen bud. You gasp, throwing your head back in pleasure as Marcus strokes you. He pulls his hand away and brings it to your mouth, prying your lips open with his finger, urging you to lubricate it. You swirl your tongue around his digit, then he pulls it out and brings it back to rubbing your clit. The pleasure builds inside of you, your breath hitching with each flick of his finger. You’re getting close to the edge, desperate for Marcus to let you cum; his lips trail up and down your neck, lazily licking and nipping at the skin there. He replaces his middle finger with his thumb and continues the pace of his strokes on your clit before sliding two fingers inside of you. The fullness causing you to mewl in his ear as you begin riding his fingers. Your climax builds as your pussy clenches around his fingers that are working in and out of you, curling with each thrust inside of you. The flicks against your swollen bud, your hips rolling into his fingers, his lips on your neck...the way Marcus is working your cunt right now is pushing you close to the edge. Your toes start curling and your pussy clenches around his fingers, causing Marcus to groan at your tightness.

“That’s right, hermosa. I wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum,” he groans in his signature rasp. His hot breath sticks to your neck as the pressure inside of you builds. Shutting your eyes and moaning a slew of curses, you begin to see spots as your pelvis tingles and your cunt clenches hard around Marcus’ fingers. His fingers climb up to your scalp and he tugs your head back by your hair, pulling it away from where it was resting in the crook of his neck. You lazily part your eyes open through your climax, finding Marcus staring at you through his lustful brown eyes. His digits work you through the rest of your orgasm, relishing in the way he’s staring at you; your jaw slack, whimpering and moaning, your hands clutching his broad shoulders. 

“You’re beautiful, my love,” he breathes, stroking the stray strands of hair out of your face. You smile lazily at him, panting as you come down from your climax. His dick twitches against your thigh as he pulls his fingers from your soaked pussy. He offers them to you and you part your mouth, welcoming his cum soaked digits into your mouth; sucking the evidence of your arousal from his fingers. He watches you, your lips sealed around his fingers and your eyes dark with lust. He pulls his fingers from your mouth and lightly grazes your jaw with his saliva soaked fingertips.

“I want you to fuck me, Marcus,” you tell him hungrily, still breathless from your orgasm. He nods eagerly and grips your hips, trying to position you above his cock. You resist his grasp, and he glances up at you confused.

“What’s wrong, mi amor?” he asks, his tone dripping with concern as he cradles your cheek with one of his hands.

“Nothing, I’ve just--I haven’t really...I guess I’m--,” you pause to sigh. “I’m still--technically--a virgin.” You swallow hard, unable to keep yourself from feeling embarrassed by your admission. It’s stupid to feel embarrassed, especially in front of Marcus who would never judge you for something like that. He stares at you comfortingly, not an ounce of condescension in his eyes.

“Okay, honey, let me take care of you,” he says tenderly, flipping you on your back so now he’s hovering over you. “Do you want this?” He holds you gently, wanting you as comfortable as possible and trying desperately not to pressure you into anything.

“Yes, Marcus. I want you. I trust you,” you affirm, your fingers dancing over the stubble on his cheek, desperately wanting more of him. Trust has always been hard for you. This was more than just letting him take your virginity, it was letting him into your heart completely and earnestly; it was the first time in years you’ve let someone love, touch, and look at you like this. And you wouldn’t want anyone else to be here fucking you except for Marcus. He grins at you warmly, his eyes so full of love and want.

“I love you,” Marcus says your name, planting a longing kiss on your forehead and nuzzling his cheek against your cheek. 

“I love you, too, Marcus,” you say, feeling all his love for you by simply looking into his eyes. He smiles and plants kisses along your jawline and throat, nipping at the flesh. He reaches into the drawer in his bedside table and pulls out a condom. He tears open the package and rolls it onto his cock. Marcus positions himself at your entrance, your legs wrapping around his waist in anticipation.

“You okay?” he asks nervously, he seems more anxious than you even are and it’s absolutely adorable.

“Marcus, sweetheart, I’m fine,” you giggle, your hands cradling the sides of his head. “Please, I want this. I’ve wanted this for forever. Fuck me, please.” He nods, planting kisses on your forehead, and his dick prods your slick entrance. Marcus sinks the head of his cock into you and hisses at the tightness of your pussy. You mewl as he stretches you open slowly, your arms wrapping around his neck and your bare chest pressing into his. He slowly buries his length into you, his cock twitching inside of you and he revels in the tightness of your cunt. You gasp once he’s sheathed inside of you, your pussy stretched wide open for him and only him. Your clit aches for more friction, and you desperately need him to move inside of you. 

“You good?” he groans through gritted teeth, his lips hovering above yours as your breaths mingles together.

“Marcus, baby, move please--fuck,” you gasp, gripping his shoulder tight. He doesn’t hesitate to begin pulling out slowly, and moving back inside your aching pussy. His thrusts are slow and gentle, trying to get you used to his length before he picks up the pace. He wants this to be as enjoyable for you as possible and he’s only able to do so by starting out painstakingly slow. After a few more slow, languid thrusts, he gauges a slightly quickened pace. You moan, locking his lips with yours, and sloppily kiss him as you begin to try and thrust against him, searching for a rhythm. Your hips rock with his, his thick cock gliding in and out of your pussy, but your clit still craves more friction.

“My clit--shit, Marcus,” you hiss against his lips. He dips one of his fingers between your bodies and begins flicking your clit gently and expertly as he continues to fuck you. You gasp and whimper into the kiss as he keeps flicking the sensitive bud in rhythm with his thrusts. You bring his lower lip between your teeth and tug it gently, Marcus groaning before locking your lips again.

“Fuck--cariña, you’re so tight--so good--for me, shit,” Marcus growls into the kiss, his thrusts keeping pace but becoming harder. You moan, the pressure on your clit becoming almost too much for you as his cock stretches you wide and fills you each time he thrusts all the way into you. “Wanted you--wanted--I’ve dreamt about fucking this tight little pussy, cariña.”

The way he speaks to you makes your body run hot, his words burning into your skin and making you flush. You moan your affirmations, wanting to urge him on to keep going.

“Baby, keep going--keep talking,” you choke out between gasps and moans. Marcus continues his pace on your clit and with his thrusts, not faltering even once as he groans in pleasure.

“I wanted to bend you over my desk and fuck the shit out of you. I--shit--wanted to eat your pussy out while you made breakfast; on my knees, my head between your thighs, licking your cunt like that’s what you were serving me,” he growls, dipping his head down briefly to lazily suck your nipple, switching between both breasts. “You--fuck--mija, you’re mine. You’re finally mine, I won’t lose you.” His hot breath tickles your breasts and he kisses his way back up to your lips locking them together again. His words were not possessive by any means, they were desperate, needing you to know how much it would hurt him if he were to lose someone else he loved the same way he lost his wife. The pressure he’s creating from the flicking of your clit partnered with his cock buried deep inside your pussy as it tickles your g-spot, becomes too much and before you know it you’re close. Your cunt clenches around his cock a few times, making Marcus groan into your mouth. You gasp and whimper, wanting to cum for him again; you want to come undone in front of him, show him just how much you’ve wanted to fuck him all these years. You roll your hips up into his, frantically searching for your orgasm as your thrusts begin to quicken and your pussy clenches around him once again.

“Marcus, I’m close,” you whimper into your sloppy kiss, clinging to his back and dragging your nails up and down the skin there.

“Cariña, cum for me. You look so sexy when you finish,” he whispers huskily against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip as he thrusts harder into you again, the slapping of skin echoing throughout the room. Your body tenses underneath him, white spots clouding your vision as your cunt clenches around his dick, milking him. Your body tingles and you spasm against his bare chest, digging your nails further into his back. Marcus thrusts into you, hissing when you clench around his throbbing cock, as he rides out his climax. His groans and whimpers growing louder as he reaches his orgasm, then promptly quieting down once he begins to come down. You pant, your chest rising and falling as you also come down from your own climax. Marcus slumps next to you, his twitching length still sheathed inside of you as your legs tangle together. He grabs your chin and tilts your head towards him to kiss you, slowly and featherlike, wanting to savor your taste. You lay like that for a moment, your sweaty chests rising and falling together as you both try to catch your breath.

“I’m so in love with you,” Marcus says your name, draping his arm over your stomach and squeezing your waist gently. “And I will show you just how much I love you every day, mi amor,” He plants a kiss on your shoulder. “I’ll never let you forget it.” He kisses up and down the length of your neck, his tongue darting out occasionally to taste you.

“You’re my hero,” you giggle, turning on your side to face him while his dick still remains buried inside of you. He rolls his eyes playfully, having heard hundreds of different women say that very phrase over the course of his career, but it strikes something inside of him when he hears you say it. “You saved me. I love you.” You snuggle into his chest and pepper kisses along the sweaty skin there.

“I’ll always be here, cariña. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll catch you when you fall, like how you catch me when I do. I would be so lost without you, mi corazon,” he says tenderly, planting a kiss to the crown of your head and wrapping his arms around you tighter. He loosens his hold on you, and pulls his half-hardened cock out of your pussy. He disposes of the condom then pulls the sheets back over your bodies, bringing you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you. Marcus plants slow, languid kisses all over your face, wanting to make you feel all the love he holds for you. Your eyes droop shut, fatigue beginning to overcome your body as you’re trapped in Marcus’ arms. But this is a place you wouldn’t want to escape, no, you feel safe here. Marcus won’t let you go, and you wouldn’t let him go either. Marcus has your heart, and there’s no one else you’d trust to keep it. He’s your hero, after all. The hero who saved you with his love.

[howdoyousleep3]

Since I’m stuck at home this weekend (and can’t see the person that could maybe be my Valentine, it’s a whole thing 🤷‍♀️😬) because snowed all day today and tomorrow the wind chill is gonna be -35, I was wondering if any of your Daddies and their Boys were going to do something for Valentines Day? 💕

Ahhhhh Heather I’m so sorry your Maybe Valentines Day plans fell through. It’s supposed to be so fucking cold here over the next few days. Awful, I hate it, I can’t wait for Spring! I bet the boys and their Daddies definitely do something, hmmm let’s see...

Daddy Steve and Baby Bucky: These boys go all out. They love this day. And holy shit Valentines Day that falls on a weekend?? Lord have mercy, the quality time had. Steve can’t decide on the kinds of flowers to have delivered to Bucky on Friday while he’s at work, he just has all four delivered. Bucky FaceTimes him from the kitchen with watery eyes and squeaks because words are so hard, and all Steve can do is laugh and coo into the phone.

Bucky bakes some of Steve’s favorite oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, puts them in a pretty red tin, wraps a bow around it. Steve is so tickled about them he picks Bucky up off the floor with the force of his hug, sets him right on the counter and has them immediately share one between the two of them.

Steve cooks dinner for Bucky on Saturday, something Italian, has an appetizer of finger foods that he slowly feeds Bucky as he cooks, keeps his wine glass full of his favorite red wine. Poor Buck gets so wound up so quickly Steve almost feels bad for telling Bucky he needs to wait, purring into his ear that he needs to be a good boy and let Daddy cook for him, provide for him.

It’s awful hard to say no to Buck when he gives his Daddy those eyes, asks so sweetly in a soft little voice if he can at least suck Daddy off, but Steve sticks to his guns.

They barely make it through the dinner, Bucky slowly finding his way from the seat next to Steve to his Daddy’s lap, small bites of food and sips of wine becoming less and less frequent between kisses. Steve makes them eat their portions though, makes them enjoy and savor the food he worked so hard to cook for the two of them. By the time Steve slips Bucky his last bite of food, gives him a sip of wine to wash it down, Bucky is vibrating where he sits.

“Go get ready for Daddy while he cleans up a bit…”

Bucky has been ready, has been sitting through the evening with a pretty silver plug with a pink heart at the base nestled between his cheeks, has been squeezing around it wishing it was his Daddy all throughout dinner. He’s more than ready to get fucked through their mattress, doesn’t want to wait, strips himself of his clothes and presents face-down on the bed, wiggles as he waits for Steve.

“Oh, sugar…”

Daddy’s tone, arousal and surprise, pools at the base of Bucky’s neck like warm honey.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Daddy…”

Daddy James and Stevie Baby: Did you all know that James is one of the most romantic people Steve has ever met? Oh, because he most definitely is. James goes all out spoiling his boy on Valentines Day. Steve wakes up to gentle kisses on his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips, wakes up to a bedside table full of white roses. Steve touches them and marvels at how soft they are, thinking of the unmentioned parallels between said softness and his Daddy.

“Got a few surprises for you today. You wake up when you wanna and give me a call. How does that sound?”

It sounds marvelous. Steve takes his time waking up, falls back asleep after giving his Daddy a few indecently wet kisses as he leaves for work. He runs his fingers across his roses again, calls his Daddy from bed.

“I made an open appointment for you at that spa you like. Get what you’d like, the works. Grab some coffee on the way, yeah?”

Steve…floats to his appointment. He floats on this pillowy soft cloud of being blessedly spoiled and loved, on having a Daddy like James, a perfect Daddy. All throughout his massage, his facial, his waxing, he thinks about his Daddy and what it’s like being loved in such a way, how improved his life has been made with James in his life. He thinks about how grateful he is to have found someone who loves him in exactly the way he wants to be loved, who not only puts up with, but embraces how difficult Steve can be sometimes.

By the time he’s standing in the lobby, three hours later, he almost feels like he’s experienced something cathartic.

“Yeah? You sound relaxed. That’s nice, baby. They treat you good?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Oh, listen to that. Ain’t that sweet. You ready for your next surprise?”

It’s shopping. Daddy gives him suggestions on a few shops, tells him he’s picked out a few things at each place that he might enjoy, but that he’s free to go anywhere he’d like. Steve almost wonders if he’ll need an escort, leaving this place and feeling free of all stress and cotton-candy-like, sent off to go buy things for himself. He goes to all of the places Daddy has things set aside for him, tries on all the articles of clothing: shirts, jeans, suits, jockstraps, panties.

He buys almost everything he tries on, adds in a few items for James himself, feels genuine arousal when all of the people who assist him tell him that his partner had already taken care of the bill. By the time he has four bags in each hand and is wandering into the elevator to Daddy’s office, he’s feeling sweet in the head and all over.

“Hey, doll,” Daddy purrs upon seeing him, his face lighting up in the same way that Steve is sure his own is brightening up as well. All Steve can whisper out is a coo of a, “Daddy…”, placing his bags on the couch, meeting James halfway and tipping his chin as Daddy reaches for it. Kissing Daddy makes the pleasure he is already feeling ratchet up, makes the sensation of arousal heavy in each of his limbs.

“Baby…sweetheart, what’sa matter?”

He can’t answer. How is he supposed to answer? His feelings are too large and he’s too far gone to step back and produce words. He responds with whines, with pitiful noises he presses into Daddy’s neck, his jaw, his lips. He’s more than grateful when thick arms hold him up, hold him close.

“Steve, are you okay? Good noises?” The worry in James’ voice tell him he needs to respond, needs to communicate with Daddy.

“So good. So good, Daddy.”

“Oh, pup. Sweet boy, c’mere…”

It isn’t how he expects to spend Valentine’s Day but it’s everything the two of them need. Steve wants to be close to his Daddy, wants to touch him and never let go. He spends the rest of Daddy’s workday at Daddy’s feet, cheek pressed against his thigh, hand in Steve’s hair. From time to time he gets pulled up into Daddy’s lap, gets showered in kisses and praise that prolong his time in that sweet sugary place. Daddy calls him a sweet boy, tells Steve he’s a sweet puppy, that Daddy loves him, that Daddy is so lucky.

Daddy almost has to carry him out of the office, zips up Steve’s jacket, hands him a few bags, gives him a kiss on his forehead.

“Why don’t we go home and you can show me all the pretty things you bought with Daddy’s money today, yeah? Maybe we can do something with that hard pretty prick’a yours…”

3DWD and Bucky Bunny: The Daddy loves his holidays and damn him if he’s not going to take full advantage of one dedicated to his bunny love.

Bucky loves chocolate. Steve gets him two boxes of chocolates, one milk and one dark, and also gets him a box of chocolate-covered strawberries. They’re sitting on the counter alongside flowers and balloons when Bucky traipses downstairs when he wakes up. Bucky’s giggles add ten years to Steve’s life, swear to god. But Steve’s reaction upon opening up Bucky’s present to him is even better, how excited he gets when he opens up the entire Fast and Furious DVD boxed set.

It’s the little things, isn’t it?

These two have more of a relaxed Valentine’s Day together. No doubt Steve wants to watch the Fast and Furious movies, all in order, “…obviously skipping Tokyo Drift. What even was that, Bun?”. Popcorn and chocolates and Bucky eating his strawberries, they spend the day making out and snuggling as they make their way through each of the movies.

They only stop to take a break so Daddy can start on dinner, which most definitely consists of steak, something from Steve’s butcher shop, something that is only the best. He takes his time with it, Bucky catching Steve talking to the meat in the kitchen, trying to verbally sweeten it up. He makes a feast for Bucky, complete with potatoes and brussel sprouts and asparagus and wine and that yummy little butter pat right over the steak.

Their bellies are full and their hearts are happy and their bodies are warm and they can’t help but get a little frisky at the dining room table, giggles and open-mouthed kisses and sighs.

“You tryin’ to give your Daddy dessert before dessert, bun?”

“Mmm, you got dessert planned, big man?”

Steve does indeed. He bundles Bucky up in a big blanket, one of Daddy’s hoodies, shuffles him outside to the fire pit. He gets a fire going easily, holds up a bag of marshmallows with child-like excitement that Bucky matches with a giggle and an applause.

“S’mores!”

They’re sticky and gooey and they eat half of their fill from each other’s hands and from messy kisses. Daddy thinks he can out-sweet Buck but there’s no way in hell he can compete with his bunny’s sweet tooth and he calls it at three.

“I love you,” Bucky whispers against his Daddy’s cheek where they lay snuggled under a blanket in front of the fire, underneath the stars. Steve rumbles, purrs, wraps his arms a tad tighter around Bucky as he breathes, “Love you too, Buck. Love you so much.”

With full bellies and happy hearts, it’s easy for these two to make it an early night. But don’t be fooled—they wake up early the next morning still feeling very much in love and ready to physically prove that.

Senator Rogers and Intern Bucky: The filth, lord the filth. Bucky is so worried in the days leading up to Valentines Day because he’s so uncertain as to what is acceptable and what isn’t for this day and for them. But then he gets a box delivered to his home Thursday while he’s on campus, comes home to find it on his bed. He opens it up, gasps when he sees what’s inside, picks up his phone.

“What is this? Did you…?”

“Well, that’s no way to talk to your Daddy when he’s just bought you a nice pair’a panties for Valentine’s Day, now is it?”

They’re silky and high-waisted and a breathtaking dark green shade that Bucky just knows will make him look delectable. He holds them in his hands, fabric slipping between his fingers, and gets so hard so fast he whimpers. These are no doubt ladies panties and Bucky is no doubt hot for it.

“Put ‘em on. Show Daddy what you look like in ‘em.”

And this is how Bucky spends Valentine’s Day weekend, riling up his Daddy with increasingly filthy pictures of him in the pair of panties Steve bought for him, ignoring a few calls to make his Daddy angry, giggling when he gets threatening texts in response. He riles his Daddy up so much so that Steve sends a car for Bucky to pick him up and take him to the Senator’s house on Sunday afternoon.

“Wear them, fuckin’ have them on under your jeans. Gonna stuff’em in your mouth as I have my way with you, gonna pull ‘em up and over your ass when’m done with it. You don’t even know, Buck…”

💕🥰 Eeee thank you for this Heather! I loved thinking about all of the Daddies. I hope you enjoy and I hope you’re having a sweet day, bb. 💕🥰

[random-mha-thoughts]

Dork (Kaminari x Reader)

Pairing: Kaminari x Reader

Anon requested: “Not sure if u are taking requests but if u are could you do a Denki x reader imagine where he likes them so he keeps breaking (y/n) phone chargers without her knowing so she has keep asking him to charger her phone, but one day she catches him... or something like that. Sorry if this is unclear This is my first ever request. THANKS!!!”

Genre: Fluff

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

Word count: 1,241

a/n: First Denki fic! Admittedly, I didn’t give him much character in this, but I hope this is okay!  Thanks for the request and I hope to see you again in my ask box soon!

"Damn it!"  I purse my lips as I constantly plug my charging cord into my phone.  As it did the last time, the device keeps barely keeps the charging icon for long before it disconnects and reconnects, vibrating like it's having a seizure.

"What's wrong?"  Denki comes up behind me suddenly.

"My charging cord's broken again!" I lament.  "This is my third one this week alone!"

"Oh, that sucks."  He rifles through the large pocket of his shorts.  "You can borrow mine again if you want, I'll charge it for you."

Reluctantly, I take the end of it.  "I feel bad, I've been asking you to do this all week."

He tugs the USB end to lead the two of you to the couch in the common room.  "It's cool, I don't mind.  I'm basically a walking talking battery pack anyway."  He flashes his finger guns at me cheesily.

"You're such a dork."  

We sit down in front of the TV while my phone charges.  Since the cord is short, our bodies end up closer together, my legs sprawled out on top of his lap as I scroll through my phone.

"I can't believe I have to buy another cord.  Why do they keep breaking?!"

"Maybe you keep buying the really cheap convenience store ones?" Denki offers, still keeping the cord end between his teeth.

"Yeah, but there's no visible damage to it, I don't know where exactly the break in the cord is.  If I knew, I'd try to remedy it."  A braided cord comes across my screen.  "Maybe I can get one of these?"

Denki shrugs at the screen.  "Maybe it'll work, I'm not too crazy about braided cables, it seems unnecessary to me."

"It's only a few dollars more, maybe it'll protect the wires inside better?"

The boy snorts at my suggestion.  "I don't think a little bit of braiding on the outside will protect what's inside, even I'm not dumb enough to believe that."

"Maybe you're just too dumb to accept the benefits."

"Hurtful!"

.

The next day, I buy the braided cord, thinking it would be good enough to last me a while longer than the cord I already had.  However, the next day, the braiding had already started unwinding from the phone end.  At first, it didn't affect the charging, but the braiding steadily wore off the wire more and more each day, poking me uncomfortably until I eventually decided to throw it out.

"Well, that didn't work either," I pout, my head resting on Denki's lap as he charges my phone again.

"Told you so, but you called me dumb!" he points out smugly.

"And you still are, but you're a helpful idiot at least," I shoot right back at him playfully.

The boy fakes a sniff.  "I see how it is.  You only like me for my talented mouth."

"Ew, don't say that again, that's just weird."

"Yeah, sounded better in my head, sorry."

We grew more comfortable with each other because of these small moments.  Little talks here and there about our interests and other things, mostly because sitting so close to each other allows us to see each other's screens easily.  I'm closest to him out of all the other boys in class, in more than one way of course.  One secret I found out about him is that he's a closeted Selena Gomez fan (I caught him listening to the "Rare" album as he tried to hide it in his notification center, but he didn't realize it was playing too loud from his earbuds).  He's a dork, but he's my dork I guess.

.

I ended up giving up on charging cords.  Since there's 20 of us in the same building, I figured just using someone else's cord with my own charging brick would be fine.  Until a week later, my charging brick also went out of commission.

"What the actual fuck?!"  I'm frustrated at this point.  No matter who's cord I plug into the adapter, it just doesn't charge my phone at all.

"Come on, I gotchu."  Denki already wraps his arm around my shoulders, cord in his free hand.

"I'm just sick of it!  I don't understand why this is happening to me!" I groan, clenching my fists.  "Why am I so unlucky?!"

"The universe must be telling you that I'm your designated battery charger, sweetie."  The flirty line comes from his lips easily as he tries to massage my hands open.

"The universe hates me."

As Denki tries to comfort me, I get to thinking.  There are at least a handful of people who have the same phone and charger as me, so there isn't an issue with the building itself.  And considering how these events only happen to me proves that these aren't coincidence.  Someone's doing it on purpose, and I think I know who it is.

.

To test my theory, I buy a new wall adapter and leave it on the common room table, announcing I'm gonna use the bathroom and fetch someone else's charging wire.  Ducking behind a wall, I spy on the room of only a few people.  No one is hovered around the couches, just a few boys sit at the table.  Sure enough, Denki gets up from his seat and heads for the kitchen.  On the way over, he casually swipes the adapter off the table and buries it in his pocket.

I knew it! I quietly follow him into the kitchen, only to catch him overloading the poor plastic with his electricity.  "I was wondering what could've possibly broken my wall adapters," I state, making my presence known.

The blond jumps ten feet in the air and turns to me.  "Aw shi-"

"You mean to tell me," I start walking towards him, "All this time, you've been breaking my cords, watching me waste my money every week, and for what?"

Denki's body backs up into the counter as I gain on him, nervous laughter the only thing he emits.  "I-It was just a joke!  Harmless fun!"

I grab his shirt collar and glare at him so his eyes screw shut and he whimpers.  "You better pay me back all that money I spent, clear?"

"Crystal," he squeaks.

I smirk, done messing with him.  Pulling him closer to me, I join our lips together in a short yet powerful kiss.  I can't tell if the sparks between us come from him or the built-up chemistry between us finally releasing.  The bewildered blush on his face is priceless.  "If you wanted to spend time with me, you should've just come out and say it, stupid."

The boy gapes like a fish out of water.  "How-Why-What-"

"You're so easy to read," I roll my eyes playfully before letting go.  "If you were a dog, your tail would wag constantly around me.  But it's cute."  Holding his nape, I press another kiss to the corner of his lip before letting go and strolling out of the kitchen and stopping at the doorway.  "I want my money and a replacement adapter before you take me out on a proper date, dork."

Looking back, he's practically drooling with cartoon-ish heart eyes despite the red still coating his cheeks.  Little sparks start flashing around his body.  "Sure thing," he agrees dumbly, giving me two thumbs up like he's short circuiting again.

With a final wink, the electricity envelopes his entire body as he yelps in glee.  Oh this dork.

[ddarker-dreams]

Malaise. Yan Fugo x Reader [Implied x Giorno]

word count: 6.3k warnings: implied sexual relations, angst later on notes: i wouldn’t say there’s super heavy yandereness going on here, but given the context i figured yandere would play out a bit differently. it’s more like slight yandere if anything ...

i.

Interacting with someone so close to your own age shouldn’t be this miserable. Bucciarati is far easier to converse with, it’s not even a close competition. He’s a pleasant conversationalist, humoring your ideas and offering valuable input. If you had it your way, you’d only be speaking to him and not… this bratty teenager who turned his nose up whenever you were around. As if your mere existence is the highest insult to his own. You’ll never forget how he looked from you to Bucciarati with a quirked eyebrow when you were introduced, the awkward encounter forever burned into your mind. 

You blow a strand of hair out of your face, nose scrunching up at the current dilemma. Bucciarati had asked, more like softly nudged you, to get along better with Fugo. You’ve been trying, ever since he introduced you two that fateful day. In the back of your head, you wonder if the same task was assigned to Fugo in private. Though seeing as he’s remaining nose deep into his book, sitting as far as humanly possible from you on this couch, you doubt it. The phrase “avoid like the plague”, doesn’t even scratch the surface of Fugo’s attitude towards you. He’d sooner embrace the Bubonic Plague than you, should prior encounters be recalled.

“Was there something you needed?” 

Speak of the devil. He must’ve seen fit to grace your presence with his most sacred articulation, filling the tense air with some much-needed conversation. The words aren’t malicious on a surface level, seemingly a reasonable inquiry considering you’ve been staring at him for a solid ten minutes. It’s how his voice is strained, knuckles whitening as he grips the book tighter, which gives him away. Fugo’s too easy to read at times, the same can’t be said when it comes to dealing with him. This might be the most difficult task Bucciarati ever assigned to you. 

“Need isn’t the word I’d use,” you decide to ignore the not-so-subtle irritation on his features, pushing your strained luck as far as it can go. Linguistics aside, you put your cards on the table. “But, I was hoping to get to know you better.” 

With the ball now on his side of the court, all you can do is wait, for whatever rebuttal Fugo decides to dish out. When Bucciarati isn’t around, Fugo’s preference is to act like you’re no more than a fly on the wall. Buzzing around his head and making it impossible to focus on anything that he does in his rare downtime. Honestly, he can’t comprehend why Bucciarati felt so desperate as to pluck you from whatever hole he found you in. You don’t even hold a candle to his own intellect, taking a naive, happy-go-lucky approach to life. Sure you’re a Stand user, and while it’s not a useless Stand, Fugo couldn’t picture you making the choices necessary in a fight to stay alive. The fact you haven’t been reduced to a bloodstain on the pavement is the only thing he finds impressive about you so far.

His eyebrow twitches at your pesky insistence, face settling into a grimace. “Am I right in assuming that if I don’t humor this pitiful attempt, you’ll continue to stare at me and disrupt my otherwise peaceful evening?” 

You place a finger to your cheek, considering the proposition, before nodding your head. “It looks like you’ve got a better understanding of things than I expected.” 

Fugo lets out a long sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. So be it. He’ll wait until you fall asleep to finish his book, mentally noting the page number and setting it by his side. The act of surrender takes you off guard. You were fully anticipating a snarky one-liner, or for him to disregard you in some other way. Instead, he looks at you with disinterest, arms crossed over his weird swiss cheese shirt. You learned never to mention your inner critiques of his fashion sense, as it once earned a plate of parmesan being narrowly dodged at Libecco. Scary stuff.

“Now that I have your undivided attention,” Fugo winces at this like he heard nails on a chalkboard, “What do you like to do? Y’know, hobbies and stuff.” 

It’s as good a start as any. Finding out a person’s interests unravels the essence of who they are, what they believe is worth their time and effort. Fugo gives your question an unexpected amount of thought, probably sensing you’ll call him out for a lackluster answer. Which you would, of course. For all his stubbornness, he’s gotten good at reading you. Maybe you should try shaking things up a bit to rattle him, keep him on the edge of his seat… 

“Honestly, you couldn’t pick something more original…? I don’t know. I read, and I can appreciate a good movie.” 

You let out a hum of acknowledgment, considering his words. A very safe, Fugo-like answer. It didn’t take a seasoned detective to assume Fugo liked to read, but the movie detail is a new bit of information that you will take full advantage of. He strikes you as the type to be snobby about his tastes in movies. Most likely only watching them if they’re popular with critics and saying the general population has no appreciation for the fine arts, too busy consuming braindead action flicks instead of true cinema. Not that you have any intention of voicing this conclusion to him, seeing as you’re trying to worm your way into a friendship.

Fugo snaps his fingers in front of your face, bringing you back into unfortunate reality. Maybe that statement earlier this morning about you zoning out too much holds some merit. Before he can berate you as he’s taken an apparent liking to, you speak up. “That’s good and all, but I need specifics.” 

“Care to elaborate?” 

“With pleasure,” you lean forward, waving your hands enthusiastically to emphasize your point. You get the sense that Fugo regrets asking for clarification, but neither of you are willing to back down now. “How about this. If you could only watch one movie for the rest of your life, which would you pick?” 

“Is this some kind of job interview?” Fugo murmurs to himself, massaging his temples. You shrug your shoulders and offer a bright smile, and he knows sarcasm isn’t gonna cut it. “It’d need to be something interesting… maybe The Silence of the Lambs.” 

He somewhat defied your expectations, not listing some obscure black and white flick filmed on a Blackberry. Maybe you jumped the gun on your initial assessment of Fugo Pannacotta, and he isn’t as grandiloquent after all. This confrontation is going better than you ever anticipated, and you almost feel guilty for selling him too short.

That is, until he sees fit to present an unnecessary addition to his previous statement. “Was that bit of English too much for you?” 

So much for that. Once an asshole, always as an asshole. Shakespeare may have said something similar, but your reimagining is far more of a pinnacle in literary achievement. You deflate back into the couch, huffing at his indignant comment. Well, might as well burst his bubble now. It may be the only bubble Fugo has that you’re capable of the aforementioned bursting, so you’re going to savor every second of it. The entire reason you’ve never mentioned this facet of yourself is that you never viewed it as imperative. Bucciarati knew, you knew, that’s all that mattered. Until Fugo decided to dig under your skin and rub salt on the wound in one fell swoop. Figures he’d do that.

“Fugo.” 

“[First].”

“You know English is my first language, right?” Your voice is more of a deadpan than anything, tilting your head to the side as if it is the most logical conclusion. The hypothetical cogs in Fugo’s head begin turning. There was that time you stumbled over a Naples exclusive dish, sfogliatella, Bucciarati kindly offering the proper pronunciation after you stumbled on it. Or how you have the slightest of accents, sometimes referencing pop culture that goes beyond him. He always wondered why muttering “cazzimma” to you only earned a light reprimanding from Bucciarati, and never offended you as more common insults would. He just thought you were some type of misfortune idiot. Whoops. 

Not willing to throw in the towel yet, Fugo takes a posture of defense. This is a hill he’s willing to die on, you have to be playing some kind of cheap trick. “I don’t buy it.” 

“Should I start reciting the entire Star-Spangled Banner by heart, or talk about how much I love fast food and baseball? Did you think my Stand would be a bald eagle that shot out apple pie? If that’s the case, you’re fresh outta luck. I’m living in Naples for a reason.” you respond in fluent English, flexing your hypothetical muscles. Fugo recalls his English classes from years prior to roughly translate some of your words, scowling at the realization you’ve proven him wrong. By god do you wish you had your phone with you to snap a picture, print it out, frame it in every room of this apartment, make it your lock screen, and send it to Bucciarati. 

You’ll settle for drinking in the moment instead, Fugo muttering curses underneath his breath. Much to your surprise, from this moment forward, Fugo earned just an ounce of respect for you. Not that it says a lot, seeing as the cup of [First] respect was drier than the Sahara desert until recent times. 

It’s still a step in the right direction.

ii.

Neither of you says a word.

Coming down from your individual highs, you feel how your hair sticks to the sides of your perspiring face. Your bare chest heaving with every labored breath, Fugo in a similar state of disarray next to you. Now that it’s all said and done, you’re unable to look at him out of embarrassment. Instead, you seek solace in staring at your ceiling, thoughts scrambling to rationalize the previous events. 

It all started innocent enough. The two of you had been growing closer, becoming more comfortable in each other's presence. Even Narancia, who could be notoriously poor at picking up on subtleties, could sense your connection and even pointed it out. Until Fugo told him to knock it off (in far more vulgar language), saving you the shame of saying it yourself. You felt content with the state of things with Fugo, after months of getting him to come out of his shell with you. His words were still pointed, but not full of ill will. Even when three more additions were brought to your little group, Fugo remained the person you prefer the most. It might be wishful thinking, but you think he feels the same towards you. 

Tonight had been like all the ones that came before. The two of you sitting on the couch, talking about pointless endeavors. Mista and Narancia were out at the time, leaving you all on your lonesome. For such a sizable couch, you didn’t realize how close Fugo was sitting next to you. Your thighs practically touching, occasionally brushing over one another. To combat the summer heat and mediocre air conditioning in your apartment, you were wearing short shorts and a tank top. Seeing as everyone else could walk around shirtless at their discretion, no one ever made a point to call you out on the less than modest choice. Even if they felt the itching, you’d shut them up without a second thought.

Fugo found himself focusing less on the words coming out of your mouth, and more on your glossy lips. He could smell your strawberry chapstick, the choice so tempting he found it offensive. Mixed with the chocolate gelato that you stole from Mista’s “hidden” stash, Fugo was bewitched on a level that shouldn’t be possible. Your skin, slightly glistening from the summer heat, eyes full of passion as you explained why you hated pretentious movies. At a certain point, you must’ve noticed how Fugo stopped responding to your impassioned rant. All he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you, to feel every inch of your body.

So he did. 

It was far from suave, an amateurish clashing of teeth and tongue. You let out a surprised noise at the unexpected events but melted into it. While the kiss didn’t go as smoothly as he pictured in his head, you seemed to savor every second of it. He still remembers how eagerly you responded to his every desperate touch, how you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him even closer. The scent of your floral perfume and the sweet noises that left your lips almost made him drool, prompting him to go even further. Fugo’s brain almost shut down when you lowly whispered into his ear to come to your room, bodies soon falling onto your bed in a heated embrace. 

You feel sore, but it’s not so bad. 

Fugo’s the first to speak up after some painstaking thought, breaking the silence that’s resonated ever since he climbed off of you. “Are you… are you okay?” 

It’s so unlike him to be this unsure, not knowing what to do or say. His heart still pounds in his chest, cheeks flushed and lips bruised. Suppressed emotions came crashing down over him like a tidal wave, drowning him before he could make sense of it all. You didn’t push him away or seem offended by his advances as he’d feared you’d be. Instead, you accepted all of him. Allowing him to carry out his pent-up yearning for you, in a state of bliss by how you called his name out. 

Shameful as it may be, Fugo had envisioned this scenario in his head numerous times. He’d always hated himself for it, thinking he’s no better than a common pervert for the way he thought of you. All the ways he pictured you, in all the lascivious situations, only to see you bright and early for breakfast the next day. When you smiled and told him good morning, all he could do is look away in disgrace. Not that you ever knew about this, or that you ever needed to find out. 

You let out a carefree, light giggle at his serious inquiry. Fugo’s eyebrows scrunch together into a scowl at your sudden laughter, finally working up the courage to look at you again. Any frustration melts away like winter snow in the spring at how breathtaking you look, your skin iridescent and eyes softening. They aren’t softening just for anyone, it’s for him and him alone. Does he deserve to be the one you look at with all this adoration? And should he even bother with the self-deprecating thoughts, when losing himself with you is so much better?

“S-sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just,” you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, the skin underneath your eyes tightening from the wide smile. “I never took you for the sappy, pillow talk type.” 

Fugo’s nostrils flare, huffing without any malice at your teasing. He doesn’t have the slightest idea of what he’s doing, improvising as he goes. Everything that happened, every shared touched you shared, felt so surreal. Cheesy as it may sound, it was like a dream come true. What is there to say after a passionate encounter like that? He’s still rushing to get his bearings, hating the sensation of being this out of control. How you make his stomach erupt into a swarm of butterflies with every action, from the simple fluttering of your eyelashes to the cute way your nose scrunches up when you’re concentrating on a task. Fugo knows what this could be, in the back of his head. A quiet, hard to push down voice tells him what he’s been dreading to hear. That he’s a fool, deep in the throes of love. 

It takes a few minutes for you to calm yourself down. Fugo’s observant, much to your chagrin, having picked up on your nervous tick of laughing when you’re unsure of what to do. It’d make sense, seeing how you just slept with your teammate who frequently called you an idiot a few months ago. You prop yourself up, bedsheets covering your bare chest. “I’m fine, thank you.”

He looks away, despising how your revealed skin makes his face flush a bright red. Even without looking at you, he can picture the knowing smile on your angelic face at his embarrassment. It’s the same smile you have when Narancia tells a particularly funny joke, when Mista goes on a silly tangent about his latest concerns, when Bucciarati says you’ve done a good job, or when Abbacchio chooses to sit down next to you when everyone else is being too annoying. Most importantly, it’s how you always look at Fugo, even when he didn’t think he deserved it. 

You poke his cheek, murmuring his name. Fugo’s violet hues flicker back to you at the unprecedented action, perplexed countenance betraying his inner thoughts. He knows he shouldn’t be thinking like this. That the occupation you two are involved in is too dangerous to sustain a relationship, and that death is a possibility every day. It’s too late for him to nip these feelings in the bud -- that opportunity passed long ago, as he let it -- but he can’t allow it go past the point it already has.

Fugo lets out an inaudible gasp when you make yourself comfortable against his bare chest. Here he is, being torn on the inside between desire and duty, and you’re snuggling up without a care in the world. It’s the stark contrast that separates you, the same one that has him so hopelessly enamored. You have no intentions on making this easy for him, do you? He knows the answer when he sees your eyelids closing, threatening to fall asleep. 

All is comfortably quiet until he hears your muffled voice speak up. “You didn’t push me away.” 

“Huh?” 

Fugo’s own response isn't the schooled, thought-out string of words you’ve come to expect. It’s a kneejerk reaction to a confusing observation, that he’s having trouble rationalizing in his head. While never the most forthcoming with his emotions, he was essentially ravishing you like a man possessed a few minutes prior. You can’t be that dense, can you? Scratch that, the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. Even if not many got to see that side of you, there are still insecurities that weigh heavily on your heart. In the same way he struggles with self-worth, you fight a similar battle. The thought tugs on his heart, lips set into a deep frown. Everyone’s got something to deal with.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Fugo responds in a harsher tone than he intended. When he feels you tense against his chest, he curses himself, intentionally softening his next set of words. “But, uh, do you really want me to stay? The others might be back soon.” 

You let out a hum of acknowledgment at his concerns, promptly waving them off. It’s not like Narancia and Mista are capable of sneaking into your shared residence, it’s ridiculously loud when they come home. “Just a few more minutes.” 

He expected an answer like that and still has trouble relaxing. Truth be told, Fugo would prefer to lay here with you forever. To see what you look like when you sleep, to feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest in sync with his own, to kiss your forehead and whisper goodnight. In an ideal world, that’s how it would be. Reality is a lot less forgiving, and there’s too much on the line. Being this close to someone else is vulnerable, painfully so. To hurt and be hurt, the opportunity now having the room to manifest. He knows all this, and he still can’t bring himself to mention the full force of his anxieties. Would you hate him? Think he was using you and then ditching you? 

Fugo decides to be selfish, more so than usual. While there’s no way to push down all of these emotions, looking at you puts him at ease. His fingers ghost over an area on your neck he learned was sensitive, almost smiling when you lean into the touch. The way he feels with you is addicting. From your quick wit that matches his own, never being afraid to challenge his positions, it’s like he found his match. While he’s always found you begrudgingly cute, even when he was colder to you, it’s evolved into something greater. More serious and heartfelt. It’s horrifying and exhilarating all at once.

“Does this mean we’re dating?” you ask what’s been troubling you, hearing how Fugo’s heartbeat ramps up in speed. It’s a rational conclusion, seeing how comfortable you two are with one another. You don’t know if what you feel is love, not just yet, but you want to give whatever this is a shot. Fugo’s hesitation says all you need to know, though you wish it isn’t like this. 

“I… I don’t know if I’m ready for that just yet.” Fugo answers honestly, the words so quiet you struggle to pick them up. It’d be a lie to say you’re not disappointed, though you don’t want to push him into anything he’s not ready for. Fugo has his own emotions to work through, and the last thing you need to do is jump into a relationship and ruin everything. So you lift yourself up, looking him deep in the eyes, Fugo blinking at the abrupt movement. 

“Then I’ll wait.” 

He doesn’t notice how close to crying he’s been this entire time. The world through his view goes blurry, a lump forming in the back of his throat. Fugo takes deep breaths to steady himself, and instead of berating him, you wipe away his tears with the pad of your thumb. Whispering reassurances into his ear, combing through his tousled hair with your fingers. Fugo wipes at his eyes furiously, cursing himself for breaking down in front of you of all people. He’s overwhelmed with gratitude when you decide not to comment on it further, to save him the embarrassment. Your words echo within his head like a holy mantra, a promise that he’ll hold onto. 

If there were ever a reality where you looked down at him with disdainful eyes, he’d hate himself. 

iii.

Wandering aimlessly isn’t the worst part.

No, that’d be letting himself off too easy. It’s not the sleepless nights, tossing and turning while his stomach churns, or even the tear-stained pillowcases. When walking around Naples, all he can do is submerge himself to the shadows. There’s shame in the act of hiding, and it’s all he’s come to know. Seeing the light of day feels too good for someone like him, someone who had been abandoned by everyone he cared about and was too cowardly to prevent it. It’s a suitable punishment to wallow in his own self-pity and loneliness, cursing his entire existence for the mistakes that haunt him every day. 

It’s always a mistake to come to this café. This is your favorite café, and on days like this, all he can do is watch from afar. There are times he stares at the spot you frequent for hours, waiting to see if you decide to stop by that day or not. In a way, it’s almost better when you don’t. He doesn’t get a taste of what he’s missing out on, a forbidden fruit that he’s too ashamed to reach for. Most of the time you come here alone, with your favorite pastry and coffee, scrolling on your phone or laptop before leaving. He’s seen you meet with Mista a few times, even Trish once, but it’s mostly Giorno who accompanies you. 

Today you’re on your lonesome, speaking to someone over the phone and then hanging it up with a smile. Fugo can’t help but wonder, who is it that makes you smile like that? As he sits from afar, drowning in his anguish, it’s what plagues him the most. That used to be the smile he saw on a daily basis, the one that made him fall head over heels in love. Now he’s too afraid to approach you, in fear of what you may say, or do. Even what you wouldn’t do would hurt. Would you look at him in pity, or curse him for his cowardly actions? Condemn him for not joining you on that boat, or ignore him all together?

Is it possible… that you’ve simply forgotten all about him? It has been almost two years since the worst day of his life. While he’s caught up in the past, you’ve moved into a brighter future. He doesn’t know how he feels anymore. Surely you deserve any happiness you can get after all the suffering you went through, but the thought of you being happy without him stings. It digs talons into Fugo’s heart, ripping it out of his chest. One of these days, he tells himself, he’ll work up the strength to speak to you. Even if it’s but a moment. 

Though some part of him knows he’ll never be able to face you. Not anymore.

v.

It’s early in the afternoon. Chatter from other patrons reverberates off the tastefully decorated walls, in a restaurant that Fugo’s been to numerous times. This particular visit is different than the ones years ago. Instead of the bustling atmosphere he’d grown used to, there are only two people at the table. Where laughter and lighthearted conversations before work used to occur, there’s nothing but silence save for some polite discussion. Fugo’s throat feels persistently dry, no matter how much water he gulps down. 

Giorno sits across from him, legs folded and nursing a glass of iced tea the waiter brought seconds prior. Maintaining eye contact with the revered Don of Passione is no simple task. It’s a daunting experience, regardless of Giorno’s insistence on no formalities being necessary when interacting with one another. Fugo holds immense respect for him, otherwise, he wouldn’t be willingly sitting here right now. Still, his mouth is set in a straight line, leg bouncing underneath the table. Respect isn’t enough to snuff out the uncomfortable memories that appear up in this room, suffocating him from the inside out. 

“Is there a reason I’m here?” The words come out more forcefully than he intended, Fugo’s eyes darting around his familiar surroundings, looking for something he won’t find. Someone he won’t find. He’s grateful to Giorno for his benevolence, as speaking this way to someone who’s technically his boss isn’t advisable. Someone as sharp as Fugo knows this better than most, but he also knows Giorno. While not understanding him entirely, his actions make logical sense in the grand scheme of things. 

Being in Giorno’s position means being busy. Every second of the day has to be taken advantage of, whether it be discussing with other mafioso about recent happenings or plans, making multiple phone calls, and plenty of other headache-inducing tasks. So it doesn’t make much sense to Fugo why Giorno called him this morning, asking to meet him in person for lunch. While the two aren’t on bad terms, he doesn’t feel deserving of the specially allotted time. And in his gut, he feels there’s a hidden justification for the meeting that he’s yet to uncover. A few unpleasant theories come to mind, but they only serve to unnerve Fugo further, so he stuffs them down. 

“I wasn’t sure of the best way to deal with Purple Haze. Your Stand… you’re already aware of the potential consequences it could’ve posed, so I won’t rehash it more than necessary,” Giorno begins to offer his insight into the matter, finally revealing the true reason Fugo was called out here today. “There were a variety of methods that could’ve been used, with varying degrees of success, but I took a gamble. Ultimately, she didn’t want you to suffer anymore.”

Fugo feels his heart drop, jaw slackening despite his best efforts. “Who… who do you mean?” 

At this, Giorno quirks an eyebrow up. As if to wordlessly say, you know who. 

“It might not be my place to delve into your past,” Giorno continues with a serious air, contrasted by his closed-mouth smile. Fugo never knows for certain what Giorno’s plotting behind that smile, and a part of him wants to remain oblivious. “But for you to overcome it, and in turn gain total control over Purple Haze, it must be addressed.”

He can guess where this is going, and he doesn’t like it. Giorno gives him a moment to consider the words, briefly glancing at his buzzing phone and then returning his attention back to Fugo. It’s a subtle change in body language, how Giorno’s shoulders stiffen just slightly as if he’s anticipating something. Fugo loosens the tie around his neck, the pair returning to tense silence. While the Don made valiant attempts in loosening him up, it only served to make Fugo more suspicious. All of his fears are confirmed when he overhears two voices from the room over, one of them sending his heart racing.

That’s… that you and Mista speaking to one another. He knows your voice better than he knows any other sound on the planet, even if it’s been years since he’s heard it up this close. Fugo still dreams of you, the way you used to stumble over certain Neapolitan lingo, or how wonderful it sounded when you graced his ears with a laugh. Now, he’s unsure of what to feel when hearing the muffled conversation between you and Mista. The sound grows closer, and with it, his dread. After rejoining Passione at Giorno’s behest, Fugo knew this reunion couldn’t be avoided. Nothing could prepare him for it. 

There’s a telltale gasp when you turn the corner, spotting the back of someone you haven’t seen since you were a teenager. Someone who you used to hold in high esteem, who practically fell off the face of the earth after betraying the old boss. While Mista had hastily given you the details on the car ride over, it still felt too surreal, like a cruel joke. There’s a lot that weighs down on your heart, like stones wrapped around your ankles, dragging you into the depths. The details Giorno gave you about Fugo’s whereabouts were purposefully vague, most likely in consideration of your past feelings. 

“Fugo…?” 

You’re by his side before he can even process it, bending down and wrapping his stiff shoulders into a warm embrace. He doesn’t reciprocate it or stop you, his thoughts not capable of rationalizing what’s going on. Fugo can’t bring himself to look up at your countenance, in fear of what he’ll see staring back at him. That you’re even hugging him means you must pity him, viewing him as a scared little boy who was too weak to do what was necessary. It’s the only explanation that makes sense to him, and why he can’t return your affections. While it’s no longer his place to desire anything from you, not after all his shortcomings, he silently prays. That there may be some part of you that still cares for him, in the same way he has loved you from afar. 

“I’m so glad you’ve come back.” you sniffle, emotions swirling and enveloping you. You lift your hand, using your finger to swipe away forming tears. That’s when Fugo sees it. It doesn’t hit him at first as one would expect. No, it’s a prickling sensation that starts from his chest and spreads throughout his body like a virus. His body feels ice cold, like a corpse clinging onto shreds of life, consumed from the inside out by sorrow. Nausea comes in waves, tempting him to flee from this heart-wrenching scene and never look back. Your hand falls back to your side, and Fugo’s eyes follow it with precision, unable to look away.

There’s a rose gold band on your ring finger. 

Of course. Looking at you here, it makes sense why this would happen. Your body has filled out, beauty like that of an angel. The ability to draw people in and befriend them like a glowing aura has always been your strong suit, it was warm enough to thaw the ice around Fugo’s heart. It’d be a fool’s prayer to beg God to keep you for himself, and still, he had tried. Now that leaves the burning question, who? Who was the person that erased himself from your mind, taking the place that was carved out specifically for him? He looks at your beaming face, searching for answers he won’t find outright. 

Your perfume is the same as it was before. Light and floral, but mixed with a hint of something new. Of someone new. It sickens him, the scent dizzying as it taunts him. Where has he smelled this before? It’s on the tip of his tongue, fizzling out before coming into fruition. The words you speak next are drowned out by Fugo’s throbbing head, too absorbed with dark thoughts to process them. He needs to know. He has to know. Fugo looks over your shoulder to Mista in search of answers, the gunslinger holding an uncharacteristically grim expression. They hold eye contact, Fugo staring at him with potent intensity. 

Give me a hint. Anything, please.

Not everyone gives Mista the credit he deserves for being observant. Fugo must’ve looked like he’d seen a ghost, Mista swallowing at the pale complexion and vacant eyes. Believing that his intentions weren’t clear enough, Fugo almost looks away. Before he gets the opportunity, Mista offers a slight inclination of the head. Fugo closes his eyes, all his strength going into holding himself together. Picking up the shards of glass that maintain his emotions, hands growing bloody in the process. It’s a subtle movement, though there’s no denying in what direction it went, as much as Fugo wished otherwise.

Towards Giorno. 

You move towards your seat, realizing Fugo must be going through a lot of emotions of his own. The last thing you need to do is suffocate him when it’s clear he’s processing the unfolding events. “I don’t know the last time you came here, but they recently added more desserts. I’m partial to the zeppole… it’s so light and fluffy.” 

Mista walks over, taking a seat next to the befuddled Fugo, and speaking up to ease the uncomfortable silence that resonates in the room. “I’m starving, haven’t had anything to eat all day. Let’s get the waiter over here.”

While he flags down a passing employee, Fugo’s eyes follow your form. The table is different than how it used to be. Abbacchio would be sipping on wine, no matter the time of day. Bucciarati wouldn’t always be sitting down for long, seeing as he had lots of work to do, but he always made time for a good meal. Narancia loved conversing with you, seeing as you had lots of knowledge of the English music he was so partial to. You always sat next to Fugo, who’d lightly reprimand Narancia for being more passionate about rap than his studies, or telling Mista to knock it off with the unappetizing conversations he loved to start. 

Now, you take the chair next to Giorno, who had pulled it out in kind when you walked over.

You said you’d wait for him, and Fugo fooled himself into believing that statement would last a lifetime. He always had regrets about not joining his team on the boat that day, too many to count. A new one has sprouted up like a weed, strangling his heart. If he had joined you, would it have been him you’d have married? Would it be him that you’d look at with that dazzling expression instead, the one that he had grown used to seeing? Now that he knows the full extent of the truth, Fugo wonders how he could have ever been so blind. Even Giorno -- who often smiled just for show -- had unmistakably lightened up as soon as you entered the room. 

This… This is Fugo’s despair.

The rest of lunch goes as smoothly as it can. He forces himself to speak when spoken to, Mista kindly filling the room with conversation to prevent any awkwardness. This can’t end fast enough. He needs to get out of here, to excuse him before he does something truly stupid. A serpent whispers temptations of evil into his ear, and he doesn’t want to tune them out. Not anymore. Now isn’t the time to pull any idiotic stunts, so he remains still as a statue. When all is said and done, Fugo can’t get up from the table to dismiss himself any faster. He pays the necessary respects to his Don, swiftly offering his goodbyes. With his back turned, he hears your voice call out to him in the darkness.

“I’ll see you later, right?” you ask in between bites of your dessert, the words meaning more for him than you. He doesn’t know. He’s not certain of anything anymore, even after making up his mind on returning to Passione. The situation has taken a turn for the worst, in a way he couldn’t stomach any longer. So for now, he’ll offer up an unconvincing response, not capable of looking back at you. 

At the reminder of all his failures.

“... Of course.” 

[thewildomega]

Star in the Sand Ch.14

"...so make sure you..."

"Croc..."

"Would you let me finish, you said you would listen..." he growled, looking to her.

Crossing your arms over your chest you sighed and leaned back against the tree as he went about telling you about guns and how to use them. He showed you how to load one and how to aim it all the while you bit your tongue. Watching him toss out an old can to the empty beach and use his devil fruit powers to set it up you watched as he aimed his pistol, explaining what to do before he shot it, hitting it dead on.

Reloading it he looked down at her. "Now it is your turn, I will move the bottle a little closer and then back it up sl.."

Having enough you grabbed the pistol before he could finish his sentence. Using your other hand you grabbed the neck of the bottle and tossed it into the air before holding the gun up and shooting it mid air. Turning back around to face him you saw him looking to you in shock for only a moment before his brows lowered. "You already know how to shoot. Why didn't yo.."

"I did try. You told me to let you finish." you said with raised brows.

Narrowing his eyes he saw her grin up at sweetly like she always did. Huffing he took the pistol from her and stuck it back in the holster on his side.

"Now can I go shopping?" you asked. Having arrived on the island you were super excited to go spend some of the money you had won in your pool games but your dear Gator quickly wrapped his sand around you and stopped you from leaving, claiming that he was starting your training. Now that it was over though you were determined to go buy the things you desired. The lone beach was a ways away form the city but from what you had seen it looked rather industrial with tall towers and such.

"What is it you want to buy?" he asked.

"Different things.. A pot for one.... and some soil." you told him as he moved closer to you, backing you up into the tree you had been leaning against earlier.

"What are you planting?" he asked, pinning her to the tree and rubbing his hand down her side to grip her hip.

Feeling him grab your hip in his large hand and begin messaging it you swallowed hard, you had quickly learned that your hip was a rather sensitive to his touch and judging by his smirk he knew it too. Licking your lips you craned your neck to look up into his silver eyes. "I have some apple seeds that I got to sprout, I want to plant them and see if I can keep them growing." You told him, keeping your voice as even as possible.

Humming deeply he bent down to brush his nose up her jaw, "You enjoy gardening?"

"Yes." you chirped when his lips brushed against your neck.

Smirking at her reaction he moved up to kiss her temple before leaning back up. "Did you forget that you are to accompany me on a date tonight?" he asked.

"No that's why I want to go ahead and go do what I want to do." you assured him.

"Very well. What kind of pot would you like?" he asked as he moved to start walking towards the busy town.

Shocked you raised your brows, "You are coming with me?"

Stopping he looked back down at her, "Is that a problem?"

Smiling you shook your head, "Not at all."

................................

It really shouldn't have surprised you that he wouldn't let you pay for the pot and soil for your apple seedlings, even when you assured him that you could he wouldn't have it. Walking out of the gardening store you saw him call over Ori who had been walking down the street some, telling the young boy to carry your supplies back to the ship. "Thank you Ori." you said and saw the young boy smile before stuttering out a 'You're welcome Miss y/n.'

"What is next on your list?" he asked, walking beside her down the street.

"Well I wanted to get some oil and some other stuff." you said with a light shrug. "Nothing exciting really."

"What kind of oil?" He asked while he looked around, trying to spot a specific store.

"Um I don't know, I don't really know what is here. I like eucalyptus."

Making a mental note of it he nodded as his eyes located what he was looking for. "I see. Well there looks to be a shop there that would sell that, why don't you go look around and I will meet you there in a moment." he told her, dropping his eyes back down to her.

Grinning you nodded, not minding the time to shop alone, there were a few item you knew you wouldn't be able to look for with him beside you or at least not yet. "Okay." Going your separate ways you went into the shop he had pointed out and quickly found what you had been looking for along with some oil for your hair ot help fight against the dryness from the sea. Grabbing a few makeup items as well you paid for your things, thanking the woman and wishing her a good day before walking towards the door but stopping mid step when something behind the counter caught your eye. Looking at the dark blue bottle with gold lettering you read, 'Sensual massage oil for erotic couple's massage.' Well he had complained about a stiff back the other morning... Biting your lip you looked back to the woman, "I'll take that as well." you told her and saw her give you a grin while your face turned beet red.

Getting back out to the street you looked around but didn't see him. Crocodile still must be doing his own thing. That was fine by you because there was still a few things you wanted to buy. Seeing a woman's clothing store you walked over. You were nervous about your date tonight, you had never been on one. What did you wear? Where was it he wanted to go anyway? He always dressed so nicely so maybe you should pick out something nice as well. Biting your lip you moved over to the dress section. Having never worn anything like these before you quickly found yourself lost. Groaning you dropped the dress you had been looking at and went to move to the next rack when a voice spoke up behind you.

"Can I help you find something?"

Turning around you saw a man standing there, he was dressed almost as well as your Croc... almost. Taking a deep breath you gave him a small smile and nodded.

...............................

Happy with his purchase he walked out of the jewelry store, looking down at the earrings for his darling and grinning at how perfect they were. At first he had planned on getting her a pair of gold hoops to match the one he wore in his right ear but then he saw these and knew he had to have them for her. Tucking the velvet box away in his vest pocket he looked around before heading over to the cosmetics shop she had went into. It took only one glance over the store to realized she wasn't here and he bit down on his cigar. He had told her he would meet her there. Stepping out he looked to his left and didn't see her but before he could look back right he heard her speak.

"Hey."

Looking down he saw her standing there with a rather large brown shopping bag. Raising a brow he leaned over some, trying to peak inside but she quickly moved it behind her. Raising his eyes to her he saw her giving him a playful glare.

"No peaking." you told him.

Huffing he began walking back to the ship with her. "I do believe I said I would meet you in the shop..."

"Well we met outside of the shop."

"Y/n." He growled. This was a very busy place and he didn't like the idea of her being alone, not when danger could be lurking in every shadow.

"Nothing happened, I had some more stuff to get and I didn't really want you to see it anyway so it worked out." you said honestly.

Raising his brows he looked down at her. "Hiding things are we?" he asked in a teasing voice.

"Maybe." you grinned,"What did you have to go do?" you asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Don't worry about it."

"Who's hiding things now?" you asked with a giggle and heard him chuckle.

...........................

Once you had arrived back at the ship Crocodile had left you to get ready for your date while he went and finished up his captain-ly duties. Taking a long shower you washed your hair, body and shaved before getting out and rubbing your new oil into your skin leaving it silky. Looking to the folded lace on the vanity you felt your cheeks heat up. Lifting the feather like material you quickly pulled the on before you could chicken out. Looking in the mirror you swallowed hard at the sight of the lace bra and panty set the man at the store had talked you into getting when you told him your dress was for a date.

"Oh a date! You must get these as well, I can assure you your man will love you in this."

You hadn't the nerves to tell him that 'your man' would most likely not see you in them tonight but if there was a chance of him seeing you you would rather it be in something nice. Peaking out into the cabin you saw it was still empty, the door locked as well. Walking over to your bag on the bed you saw a large box with piece of paper sitting on top of it and furrowed your brows before lifting it up.

'While you look stunning in everything, perhaps you could do me the honor of seeing you in this.'

Gently setting the paper to the side you slowly lifted the lid from the box and gasped. Licking your lips you pulled the black dress up and looked it over. But.. this was... how? Your mind was spinning in circles as you looked at the dress you had been captivated by in the storefront window back in Sabaody. Smiling largely you moved to put it on, taking notice of the black heels to go with it, he really was something wasn't he. Giggling lightly you took a deep breath before finishing up.

He had been standing out on the deck, looking out over the sea when he heard the door to his cabin open. Turning around slowly he had to quickly catch his cigar as it almost fell from his mouth. He knew the dress would look good on her but damn. The black silk fit her body lovely, showing off her womanly curves along with a good amount of skin that looked not a bit trashy. The thin straps and criss-crossing over the chest made his eyes dart to the sand glass bonding mark on her breastbone, the mark that she was his. He hadn't been able to see it much, she never wore clothes that allowed the mark to be seen and as much as he wanted to look at he hadn't said anything. Glancing to the high slit up her left leg he swallowed hard and quickly snapped his eyes back up to her beautiful face, showing how incredibly nervous she was. Making the four steps over to her he couldn't hide his grin. Curling his knuckle under her chin he lifted her eyes to his, noticing the lightest makeup on her face, accenting her natural beauty and not covering it like some women did. "You look absolutely breathtaking." he told her in a low voice and grinned more when a bright pink tinted her cheeks.

Taking in a much needed breath you smiled up at him, "Well then at least I know I come close to you handsome." you told him. Getting up on your tip toes even with heels on you pulled lightly on the lapel of his jacket. He must have got the hint because he leaned down enough for you to press a soft kiss to his lips. "Thank you for the dress and shoes."

Stunned a little by her compliment he bit down on his cigar as he felt the back of his neck heat up. While yes he had changed into a nicer shirt and had even decided to wear an tie and jacket with his vest, the fact that she called him handsome made him feel good. Leaning down when she tugged on his lapel he met her lips in a soft kiss.

Hearing him hum you grinned. "Are you ready to go?" you asked.

Brushing back her hair very carefully with his hook he looked over her bare ears and tilted his head. "Just one more thing." Reaching into his breast pocket he grabbed the velvet box and opened it in front of her. "I can not be the only one with shiny accessories." he told her with a grin.

Looking down at the box you felt your eyes go wide a bit. A beautiful pair of drop earrings laid in the box on the royal blue cushion. Diamonds in the shape of eight pointed stars set in silver. Snapping your eyes back up to him you saw him grinning confidently. Opening your mouth and closing it you swallowed hard and shook your head. "But I...I don't have anything nice to give you and you already bought the dress and the shoes and..." you told him, feeling guilty now that you couldn't get something expensive for him.

Furrowing his brows he placed the curve of his hook under her chin and forced her eyes to his, "You my dear are horrible at understanding the concept of a gift..." Seeing her go to speak he dipped his chin more, "I do not give you things because I expect things in return. I give you things because I enjoy it and..." he stiffened when he realized what he was about to say. Seeing her brow lower a bit he cleared his throat. "You are my soulmate after all." he said, quickly thinking of something else. When she smiled he felt himself relax a little bit, thinking she had bought it.

"Thank you, they... all of this is beautiful." you told him sincerely. Seeing him push the earrings towards you you smiled as you took them out and carefully put them in your ears.  Watching him pocket the case, no doubt for you to put them back in later you grinned up at him and rose a brow, "Any chance you will let me pay for dinner?"

Standing back straight he smiled down at her with his own raised brow,  "Not a chance." Holding out his arm for her to take he led her to the high end restaurant he had made reservations at.

.............................

Looking over the fancy restaurant you stared at the massive chandlers, bet they were a bitch to clean. The floor was just as shiny with tables covered in white tablecloths, set with expensive dining-wear that made you not want to touch in in fear you would break it. Everyone here looked high class, fancy clothes and super shinny jewelry that shinned almost as much as the crystal goblet in front of you.

He couldn't help but find her child like wonder amusing. She hadn't stopped looking at everything since they had gotten here. "Have you decided what you would like to eat tonight?" he asked her.

Snapping your eyes back to him you blushed a bit before looking down to the menu that you had only opened before your eyes started dancing around the grand dining room. Biting the inside of your lip as you took in the price of the dishes you tapped your thumb against the page. Even the chicken was expensive, damn. Maybe you could just go for a salad, looking down to the salad section you found one that was decently priced.

Watching her look over the menu he saw her mouth move a little, she was biting the inside of her lip. Unsure, anxious. Seeing her eyes dart down to the bottom of the menu he looked at his own and saw that was the salad section. Raising his brow he looked across to her again. "You are not getting a salad." he told her in a stern voice.

Looking up at him you opened your mouth but saw him look to you and raise his chin.

"Get something you want. Anything you want." Seeing her look down with her brows still furrowed he took a deep breath, "They have sushi, you told me you like good sushi."

Grinning at the fact he remembered that you looked to the sushi section and saw they had a tray of different kinds. Closing your menu just as the waiter came over you watched as he poured you both a glass of wine and then asked if you both had decided. Telling him what you wanted you gave him your menu and told him thank you.

She had missed the man's reaction to her simple words but he hadn't. Clearly the man was not used to customers being as polite as his y/n. She was kind to everyone, it didn't matter who you were or what social class you were. 'I treat people how I would like to be treated.' her words rung in his head.

"You are welcome my lady." the waiter said before walking away.

"You are as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside." he told her in a low voice. Seeing her cheeks turn pink again he grinned.

...........................

Dinner was amazing, both the food and the company. It was nice to have the alone time with Croc off ship. Now the two of you were walking through the quiet city, towards the park area. With the help of the wine you were relaxed, talking with Crocodile about things that would normally make you turn red.

Holding her small hand in his with her other arm wrapped around his, he grinned softly as he glanced down at her. "So why did you punch this boy in the face?"

"Because he kept trying to lift up my dress, I told the teacher but she didn't do anything so I took matters into my own hands." you told him and heard him chuckle.

"What happened then?"

"I had to stay in for recess for the next week." you told him and then smiled, "But he didn't do it again so it was worth it."

Chuckling he led her towards the park, it wasn't a large park, more of a area with trees and a few picnic tables or benches. But his darling wanted to walk through it and so he obliged. It was on the way back to the ship anyway. Walking through the path  he saw her smile at the sight of the duck family.

"Did you name your bananawanis?" you asked him.

Taken off guard by her question he brought up his hook to scratch the side of his head, feeling his neck heat up a bit. "yes." he said in low voice.

Smiling you looked up at him. "Well go on, what were they?" you teased.

Seeing a picnic table he quickly scooped her up and sat her down on it. Caging her in he leaned down and looked her in the eye, seeing her grinning playfully. "One, two, three, four." he grumbled as he pushed his lips to hers.

"Ha. Liar." you giggled around his mouth, moving your hands up to grip his shoulders.

Kissing his way down across her jaw before getting to her neck. Peppering the thin skin of her neck in light kisses he felt her hands grip his shoulders a little harder and grinned. Wanting to test his limits he moved his mouth to just above her jugular and parted his lips a small amount to place an open mouth kiss on her sensitive flesh.

Gasping softly, your eyes snapped open before fluttering back close. His mouth was so hot and you could feel the heat traveling down to rest between your thighs again.

When she didn't say anything he took that as a sign he could continue. He still kept things slow, kissing all the way up to the curve of her jaw and breathing in her delicious scent. He enjoyed how she chose natural scents instead of those overbearing perfumes some of his past lays had been soaked in. Y/n's skin tasted clean, like her. He wasn't gagging or fighting off a sneeze. It was all just her and he loved it. Nipping gently at a certain spot she had seemed more responsive to he felt her fingers curl into his jacket and a small whimper leave her making him growl lightly. Opening his mouth to do it again he froze, the hairs on the back of his neck sticking up. Something was wrong.

When he stiffened and didn't do any more you furrowed your brows. As he pulled away some you felt worry fill you, your hands starting to slip from his shoulders. Had you done something wrong? Did you somehow mess up the moment? "Croc did I.. did I do something wrong?" you asked in a whisper.

"Drop your heel to the ground." he told her in a low voice.

Hearing how serious his voice was you did as he said and wiggled your foot to make your high heel slip from your foot and fall to the ground. Watching him step back and crouch down to reach for your shoe you saw his eyes close, his hand moving to lay flat on the ground.

He couldn't feel anyone, there was no movement but he knew someone was there. The trees. Grabbing her shoe he stood back straight, removing her other one on the way to hand to her.

Taking your heels from him when he held them out to you you saw him still serious looking, his eyes softening only a little as he looked to you.

"Come on darling, time to go back to the ship. It's getting late." he told her, letting his voice go a little higher to seem normal. Scooping her up bridal style he felt her one hand come to grip his lapel. Walking down the path he could have sworn he heard the sound of a camera but there was no flash. Arriving back on ship he saw Daz sitting up in the crow's nest and gave him a look that he knew the man understood perfectly when he gave a small nod. Carrying her into their cabin he finally looked down at her.

"Croc what's wrong?" you asked.

Sitting her on the bed he took her heels and dropped them to the floor before removing his hook and jacket. "Nothing you need to worry yourself with my little star." he told her, giving her a small grin to try and assure his words were true. He was determined not to let whatever that was ruin their night so before she could ask him anymore questions he claimed her lips once again.

Kissing him back you let your eyes slip close and lifted your hands to lay flat on his wide chest. His warm hand moved to your back, the open back of your dress allowing you to feel his skin on yours as he guided you to lay down, his own massive body following. You were thankful that the thought to clean off the bed before leaving earlier turned out to be a good decision.

Laying above her he held his weight off of her with his left forearm situated above he head while his right hand massaged her hip. Rolling his tongue around her mouth he felt as her nimble fingers unbuttoned his vest, his hand moving from her to unloosed the tie around his neck. He had been expecting her to stop there but she didn't, the cool air of the room hitting his chest as she unbuttoned his shirt as well.

You felt only the movement of him switching arms as he removed the clothing from his upper half, his mouth never breaking from yours. Being able to lay your hands on his bare skin you felt that warmth between your legs grow to an inferno. While yes he slept shirtless the two of you had never been kissing like this while his top was bare.

His cock was already becoming uncomfortable in his pants, the taste of her mouth and the feel of her soft hands on him making him want more. Need more. Kiss his way back down to her neck he picked up where he had left off earlier. Lathering her neck and throat in open mouth kisses he started sucking and nipping her skin until he heard her begin letting out small gasps, her fingers gripping his shoulders a little harder. Giving a particularly strong suck he trailed his hand up her side to the thin strap of her dress, giving a small tug. The stiffening of his woman under him brought him out of his sexual daze enough to realize what he was doing. Squeezing his eyes shut and knitting his brow as he tried to push back his own desire he licked his lips and shook his head. "Forgive me my dear I... we will stop here." he said, his voice deep and husky with pent up lust.

Feeling him go to move you panicked and gripped his shoulders, trying to keep him where he was. "I don't want to..I mean...I..." you were sure your heart was about to beat out of your chest. Licking your lips you closed your eyes, "...I don't want to stop...not yet... not unless you... I mean if that's okay with yo..." Cut off by his lips slamming into yours you sighed and rubbed one of your hands up to the back of his neck, feeling his hair between your fingers.  

Kissing her for a moment he broke away and in a whirl of sand he had moved them so he was sitting on the edge of the bed while she was standing between his knees.

Smacking his shoulder you looked at him, noticing his hair disheveled with a flushed color about his face. "I do believe I asked for a warning the last time you did that." you said in a light voice.

Chuckling he pulled her to him and kissed over her windpipe as he unzipped the lower back of the dress over her ass. "Where is the fun in that?" Keeping his left arm wrapped around her middle to hold her close to him he hooked his finger under the thin strap and gently moved it over one shoulder then the other before the feather light silk fell down to pool around her ankles. Pulling back from where he had been kissing her neck and throat he glanced down and felt his breath catch in his throat. Perfect, she was perfect. He just could make out two pink nipples in the moon lit room. "I could die a happy man." he mumbled out and he didn't have to look to her face to know she was as red as a cherry. Continuing south he saw the her panties and licked his lips as his cock throbbed. Black lace, oh how he loved black lace, even more now than ever.

You were sure your cheeks were on fire as he stared and you couldn't help but become a little uncomfortable. You knew he had no doubt seen plenty of gorgeous women in his lifetime and only hoped you were half as pleasuring to the eye as they were.

Noticing her curl up just a small amount he used his left arm to tug her flush to him, slamming his lips to her again as his tented pants brushed against her abdomen. What easier way to tell her he enjoyed what he saw than to let her feel his arousal herself.

Oh my God. Okay so he definitely like what he saw. It was hard to get a feel of him like this but you were pretty sure he was huge... the rest of him was anyway. Moving your mouth with his you felt his hand rub up and down your side, his left arm dipping under your ass as he lifted you up.

He felt her tense but continued kissing her as he moved her to sit in his lap, her knees bending on either side of his hips. With their sexes now only being divided by their clothing he stroked the soft skin of her back for a moment. Getting her comfortable with this for now he felt her hands move to his shoulder and chest. As soon as he thought she was ready he slipped his hand up to cup her breast in his palm, his whole hand just about covered the entirety of her chest. Gently palming her fleshy mound he felt her gasp into his mouth and trailed kisses down to her neck. "Is this alright?" he asked her in a quiet voice and felt her nod. "Words."

Swallowing thickly you breathed out a quiet yes and heard him growl lightly.

Sucking on her neck and nipping her skin he rolled her tit in his hand, she was quickly turning to putty in his arms and it made him feel good. It wasn't just the fact that he was arousing her it was the knowledge that she was trusting him with her worst fear. Holding her to him he turned them back over so she laid in the middle of their bed.

"Not really fair that I'm the only one in underwear..." you said, attempting to keep yourself grounded.

Chuckling he held himself up over her and kissed her cheek, "Do I honestly look like a man that wears underwear darling?" he said and saw her blush so hard he was sure all of her blood had went to her cheeks. "How about my shoes and socks?" he asked and saw her nod. Kicking of his shoes he heard them thump as they hit the floor but he paid them no mind while he toed off his socks leaving him only in his pants and belt. Staying low to her he kissed his way down, stopping to nibble on her collarbone before continuing to her breast.

Your hands took leverage on his shoulder and head when his hot mouth moved to your chest. He sucked on your right nipple while his hand groped the other. In no time at all you felt a tightening in your lower abdomen and a warmth over your entire body.  

Pulling back he held the tip of her nipple between his teeth before releasing it and hearing her gasp. Glancing up at her he was graced with an amazing sight. Lust clouded his little star's eyes with a blush covering her cheeks and chest and her hair laying around her like a halo. In that moment he had wondered if he had died and went to heaven because she looked like an angel. Licking over the hardened pebble he glanced over to the mark between her breasts and felt a warming in his chest that had nothing to do with his hard on. Kissing the black mark he closed his eyes and rubbed his hand down her side to grip her hip, hooking his finger under the delicate lace. "Tell me if this is okay."

Licking your lips you swallowed hard, "Yes." You could do this, you trusted him.

Forcing himself not to just rip the things off of her he slowly pulled them down her legs, tossing them behind him to be dealt with at a later time. HE kept his eyes closed and his lips over her bonding mark as his hand moved to touch between her legs. Feeling her flinch and the muscles of her thighs tense up he looked up to her. "Y/n?"

You knew what he was asking and looked into his silver eyes that were almost black with lust to see not annoyance there but concern and something else. "It's okay." wither you had said that to him or yourself you didn't know.

Kissing her bonding mark again he moved down her body, kissing over her sides and naval. Going to look down at her sex he felt her grab his bicep with a trembling hand. Instantly he froze and snapped his eyes back up to her face.

"Do..don't... You don't want to look down there." you told him your voice quivering.

"I can assure you I do little star.." he told her but saw her shake her head and close her eyes. Furrowing his brows he felt that strange feeling in his chest again. "Y/n.."

"I didn't.. there is something I didn't tell you..." you told him in a light whisper. "Sss...something he did..."

Hearing true fear in her voice he gently reached for her hand that had a death grip on his shoulder and pulled it to his lips to kiss it. Looking down her pelvis to her womanhood he saw red when his eyes fell to what it was she didn't want him to see. There on the left side of her womanly mound was the word whore. The five letters were branded into her skin with the W being the darkest. The whole word itself was only about three inches long and the O and R were barely there but still he felt his blood boil. Gritting his teeth so hard he thought he heard a crack he stared at the torture his beloved had been forced to endure. Hearing a small sniffle he looked up and felt his heart clench in his chest.

His silence was answer enough, he didn't want you. Why would he? You were tainted, used, broken. The proof was there, branded into your skin, a constant reminder of what Don had done to you. Closing your eyes you turned your head to the side and felt a tear roll across the bridge of your nose. A delicate touch to the most hated part of your body made you freeze. At first you thought it was your imagination but then you felt it again and again. Cracking one eyes open you looked down your body and saw him kissing the area, his eyes closed and his black hair framing his face, tickling your hip.

Kissing over every letter he looked up under his brows and saw her watching him, her wet eyes looking both confused and hopeful.  "This does not define you." he told her in a deep voice. "Why were afraid for me to see it?" he asked even though he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"It's ugly. I hate it... thought you would too. I thought... you wouldn't want me anymore..." you spoke in a whisper, dropping your eyes when just the thought alone made your eyes fill with more tears.

Humming he moved to lay on his front between her legs. Pushing up his left arm he looked over the scars covering his wrist and going down his forearm some before looking to her with one brow raised, "Does this make you want me any less?... Or this?" he asked, tapping the nub on the bridge of his nose where the long scar spread across his face. When she shook her head he smiled softly, a smile that was only ever seen by her. "Do not ever presume that I will EVER stop wanting you, that I will EVER stop caring for you."  Seeing her grin he moved his left arm back down to hold up his weight so that his right hand could move to stroke up her left leg from ankle all the way up to her thigh. "Would you like to continue, if you do not then we can stop here, you have already achieved so much tonight."

"NO!" You yelled and then quickly recovered when you saw his brows raise, "I mean I want to keep going." you said in a more quiet voice, seeing his lips lift up into a small smirk you blushed but didn't get a chance to respond before you were yanked down some, a little yelp escaping your lips that turned into a light moan when he licked the whole way up your slit. Slapping your hands over your mouth in embarrassment you heard him click his tongue.

"No. I want to hear those pretty noises." he said, pulling her hands away from her mouth with his sand and holding them down to the bed as he made another long lap up her soaked core. Rubbing his hand up her thigh and to her sex he grinned at how wet she was already. "You are soaked little star and I have barely touched you." hearing her whine in embarrassment he chuckled. "I take it as a compliment." he told her before rubbing the tip of his finger over her entrance and slowly easing it inside. A breathy moan left her throat while a deep growl left his, she was so fucking tight and he only had one finger in her. She had a long way to go before she would be able to take him without him completely breaking her. It was still probably going to be uncomfortable until she got adjusted to his size. He was already constantly worried about hurting her, she was so much smaller than he was and now....The only giving him hope was that they were literally made for each other, that means that they had to be able to mate right?!

Pulling on the sand holding you down you let out a soft moan as he worked his finger in and out of you. When he added another and then his mouth you felt your back arch a small amount and whimpered. That coil in your belly was winding up again making you feel like you were going to go crazy.

She was close, he could feel her fluttering around his fingers as he pumped them in and out of her. Watching her back arch and her breasts heaving he grinned. If he could just... working one more finger into her he kissed her labia as it stretched around his digits. She let out a louder moan at the intrusion, her heels digging into his back.

"Croc I...I.." you panted.

"Go ahead little star, cum for me." he told her before curling his fingers and sucking on her clit.

A moan that turned into a silent scream left your dry lips and your fingers fisted into the bed sheets. Your vision when white and your body turned as taunt as a bow string.

Watching her body tremble as it came down from ecstasy was now his favorite sight in the world. Slowing down his fingers and kissing her wet lips he eased her down from her high before pulling his sopping hand from her quivering core. Looking over her closed eyes, parted lips and messy hair, down to her heaving chest and perky nipples he swallowed hard as his cock was now painfully erect and threatening to burst through the seam of his pants. Pushing himself up slowly he wiped his mouth on the back of his arm and went to move from the bed when she grabbed his arm. Looking back down at her he saw her starring up at him with her head tilted a bit. Her eyes were heavy with sleep but there was also a small amount of lust there. Bending down he kissed her head, "Go to sleep darling." he said, standing back straight and turning to go to the bathroom.

"What about you?" You asked, refusing to let go of his hand.

"I'll take care of it, don't worry about m..."

Shaking your head you tugged on his hand but it didn't move him. Looking up into his eyes you saw them completely black with lust, his whole body tense. "Don't you want to..."

"I will not push you anymore tonight, you have already done far more than I thought possible and..."

"I trust you." you said quickly, interrupting him. Crawling over to the edge you sat on your knees and looked up at him, lacing your fingers with his one and moving the other to his chest to feel his heartbeat. Licking your lips you gave a soft smile, "I don't want to be afraid anymore. I don't want to relate sex with him. I want to feel free. I want to be yours."

His body was tense, his heart hammering against his ribs. She wanted him, to be his. Breathing deeply he leaned down to kiss her lips trailing his fingers up her arm and over the side of her breast. "Are you certain? I cannot promise it will not be painful but I will be as gentle as possible." he said against her mouth.

"Like I said, I trust you." you told him, kissing him before he could ask again.

Letting out a heavy breath he dropped his hands to his pants and unbuckled them. Dropping them to his feet he stepped out of them, moving his hand to her chin to keep her from looking down, he needed her as relaxed as possible. Backing her up the whole way to the middle of the bed he crawled after her, pushing her head back to the pillows with his lips. Pushing his way between her legs he moved his left forearm by her head while his hand rubbed down her body to circle her clit again. Feeling her body give a jerk he grinned and dipped his fingers to scoop up some of her slick to coat his cock in. He would have to buy some lube. Stroking his shaft a few times he lined the head up with her entrance, rolling his tongue around her mouth to give her something else to focus on. Holding her hip with his hand he slowly started pushing in, a unstoppable growl vibrating his chest at the vice around his cock. Breaking from her mouth when he felt her tense he massaged her hip, "You have to relax, y/n relax." he said, his voice deep and commanding.

Trying to do as he said you took deep breaths, focusing your mind on his mouth that was currently kissing your neck.

After a few moments he felt her relax enough for him to push in a little more and then pull out. He would have to take this very, very slow. Kissing her neck he painstakingly eased his cock back into her, only being able to get the first third of it in before she tensed again. "Shhh, you are doing so good darling." he told her.

Moving your hands to grip his back, your feet resting on the back of his thighs you gasped as his teeth bit down on your neck before his warm tongue was soothing it.

Keeping up this torturous pace until she could finally take more of him he grit his teeth and grunted into her neck, thrusting his cock in and out of her. With only about an inch or so left he felt his control running thin. She just felt so good and smelt so good and sounded so good and fuck, he just wanted to take her like he wanted. Sucking and biting the nape of her neck he knew there would be marks of their coupling there tomorrow. She was gasping and crying out for him, adding oil to the flame. Gripping her hip hard he rolled his hips into hers, finally bottoming out and making a deep moan leave his lips that was muffled by her skin.

Gasping when you felt his pelvis meet yours and his hand on your hip become painful you dug your fingertips into his shoulder blades and squeezed your eyes tight. It felt like he was in your womb. Barely being able to hear his deep moan in your neck you couldn't help but grin a little, the knowledge that you were able to make him feel just as good as he had made you feel indescribable. It was near about enough to make you forget the burning stretch between your legs.

Holding still he gave her the much needed time to adjust while also trying to regain his control. He peppered her neck and jaw with kisses and little nips, trailing his way back to her mouth. Rolling his tongue around her mouth he slid his hand up her side before grabbing her own hand and pinning it to the bed with his fingers laced between hers. Opening his eyes just a small amount he looked down at her, she was looking up at him as well with her lidded blue eyes and her kiss swollen lips. His beautiful soulmate. His little star. Lowering his forehead to hers he slowly pulled back before rocking his hips back into hers.

The pain had all but vanished to leave you feeling simply full and warm. Whole. He kept a constant rhythm, never once breaking or pushing you for more even though you were sure he wanted to. Holding his hand, your fingers tightened when that coil in your pelvis started winding up again. He must have known because he moved his mouth back to your neck, sucking and nipping on that one spot that sent a tingling the whole way down your spine.

She was close, her walls clenching around his cock and quickly sending him to his own climax. Snapping his hips into hers a little harder he caged her in with his body and bit down on her neck to muffle his groans and grunts. Hearing her cry out at a particularly harsh bite he quickly lapped over it with the flat of his tongue, "Cum with me. Come on my star, cum."

That's all it took, your body quickly following his command. Crying out in bliss you felt your breasts push into his hard chest, felt his hand grip your hand for a second before moving down to hold your wrist in an iron grip.

Pushing in as deep as he could he growled through gritted teeth as he filled her with his seed. Her pussy was milking him of all he had and he was sure he was about to go mad from pleasure. Never in his life had it felt this good and he didn't want it to end.

Feeling his cock throbbing and then the pooling heat from his cum mixed with the afterglow of your second orgasm made your whole body shiver in ecstasy. All too soon though you felt it fading away, your body wore out from the incredible experience. Closing your eyes, you tilted your head to the pillow and slid your one arm from his back when you no longer had the strength to hold it up. The last thing you could register was his lips on your temple.

He felt his lover's body go limp under him and knew she was done. Kissing up her neck and over her jaw he glanced down at her and saw her eyes closed. Grinning he brushed back her unruly hair and pressed a kiss to her temple. With a long sigh he decided it was time for their bodies to separate even though he was enjoying the closeness, the feel of her skin against his. Holding himself up with his forearm and used his hand to help push him up he hissed through his teeth as his cock slid free from her tight heat. Easing down her leg he managed to roll to his side of the bed. Taking a few seconds to catch his breath he stood and pulled the duvet over as best he could with her laying on it to keep her warm. Walking to the bathroom he lit the candle and turned on the water to start filling the tub. Looking to his reflection in the mirror he rose a brow at the tiny love marks on his neck and collarbone, he hadn't even felt her put them their. His hair was falling this way and that, his lips red and he could feel the scratches on his back from her nails. It was all well worth it though.

Walking back out to the room he made his way over to the bed and couldn't help the small chuckle that left him when he looked down at his little woman. She had moved to curl up under the blanket, her wild red hair covering her face and spreading out all around her. His pillow was pulled to her face with her one arm flung over it and the slight rise and fall of the blanket told him she was sleeping soundly. As much as he hated to he knew it was best. Tugging the blanket from her he saw her legs pull up, trying to hold in the warmth he had taken away from her. Pulling the pillow out of her hold he heard her groan and smiled. Pushing his arms under her he scooped her up and felt her nuzzle his neck, her hair tickling his nose.

You didn't want to be moved, why were you being moved. You just wanted to sleep.

Hearing her whine and then grumble out something incoherent he huffed. "You will thank me for this in the morning." he told her. Stepping into the tub he held her with one arm as he lowered them down into the hot water. Settling down he leaned back and felt her let out a sigh, her face burying itself into his neck. Scooping up some of the water he brought it up to her shoulder, massaging out any soreness there. All too soon he felt her deep breaths fan out over his collarbone. Never before had he gave any of his past lays aftercare, they had served their purpose he had no further use of them. With her though, with his soulmate he would make her as comfortable as possible. While he had been as gentle as he could he knew there would no doubt be proof of their lovemaking on her body tomorrow. Lovemaking?! Not sex? Not fucking? Lovemaking! Looking down at her he took a deep breath and thought back to those three words he had been so close to speaking earlier tonight. Swallowing hard he laid his head back against the back of the tub, rubbing his hand up and down her back "What are you doing to me little star?"

[scattergraph]

Fluff #4:  Back Rubs

It had been five days since the invasion of the dreaded flu that had rendered Scott Tracy off rescues and detained to the couch for the foreseeable future, or until the weekend at the very least.  All in all, he had been taking it pretty well.  That was, until this morning, when a close call on a rescue had left the remaining brothers demanding more training on each other’s equipment. There were physical restrictions, of course, which prevented this to some extent.  Watching Alan trying to pad himself out enough to fit into Virgil’s Exosuit had been incredibly entertaining for all, but less than useful for rescue scenarios in the grand scheme of things.  There were some bits of kit, however, that could have easily been shared, if it weren’t for the fact that Scott just didn’t want to share them.  Thunderbird One and the jetpack, for example.  

The Commander had managed to kick up enough of a fuss to keep them all away from Thunderbird One, for the time being anyway.  His argument that One could be flown remotely by any of them if needed and that they were stressing him out while he was sick was enough to keep everyone away from his beloved ‘bird, for now.  He would have to come up with a more long-term plan asap though as he knew full well this wouldn’t be the last he was going to hear of it.  Sure, Gordon and Virgil weren’t all that fussed, but Alan was another matter.  That kid was desperate to get behind the controls and had been for a long time.

The jetpack, on the other hand, was a battle he had lost pretty quickly and to be fair to his brothers, they were right.  Each and every one of them needed to know how to operate it just in case of emergencies and despite Scott’s concerns, the training had been going well for the first hour-or-so.  Then Virgil had gone and asked the one question Scott had been dreading all along.

“What does this button do?” the brother in the green sash asked as he explored the pack that was currently strapped firmly to his torso.  It had been no problem to adjust the straps to Virgil’s frame as the jetpack was a lot more adaptable than some of their other kit and to be fair to the man, he had picked up the controls much faster than Scott had ever expected him to.  In fact, he was picking up on a lot more than he was ever supposed to.

“Nothing,” Scott replied, far too casually, “it was put in as a fallback in case we needed it but it’s not actually programmed to do anything.”

Virgil frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense.  For one thing it’s just bad engineering.”

“What can I say, Brains wanted options.”

“Errrm…Brains doesn’t operate that way.” Gordon was in the mix now, fabulous, they were all against him.  “If anything, Brains is super careful not to put in redundant stuff.  I smell a rat.”

Time to pull out the big guns.  Hugging his blanket closer and attempting to look as pathetic and sickly as possible, a move Scott Tracy would under normal circumstances absolutely never use, he weakly coughed out: “Guys, can we please call it a day.  I don’t have the energy for this and you’ve already practiced enough to be able to use the jetpack if you need it.”  That part, at least, was true.  He would never selfishly put an end to their training if he thought that wasn’t the case.  He had seen how close things had been this morning without them having use of it.

“It’s not even listed in the manual,” Virgil replied from where he was now closely scrutinising the instructions Brains had worked up for them and blindly ignoring his Commander’s pitiful attempt at a distraction.  “That’s it, I’m pushing it.”

“No!” Scott replied, suddenly forgetting his debilitating illness and springing to his feet.

“Why not?”

“I told you, it doesn’t do anything.”

“Then what does it matter if I push it?”

“Well, we don’t know if it might have been accidentally connected or something.  It’s never been tested.  Better to let Brains have a look at it first.”  Scott was clutching at straws now and he knew it.

“I call BS.  Push it Virg.”  Gordon piped in.

“Agreed, do it.” Alan joined, eyes narrowed on Scott.

“John, any input?” Virgil asked their currently holographic brother who was also watching the exchange with interest.

“I’m all for exploration.  If Brains says it’s safe, go for it.”

Ganging up on the sick one, huh?  Not cool, guys.  There would be much revenge for this later when he was back to full power, that was for sure.

“Virgil, please trust me on this,” Scott tried one last attempt, “don’t push the button.”

“Brains?” Virgil called up their resident equipment expert, “is there any safety reason why I shouldn’t push the little red button on the jetpack?”

“No reason at all, Virgil.  I can assure you my designs are all of the highest quality and one hundred percent safe.”

“That’s what I thought. Thanks Brains.”  The connection was cut.  “I’m pushing the button now.”  Virgil replied.

“Virgil, don’t.”

“Pushing the red button.”

“Do not push the red button.”

“Pushing it in Five…”

“Don’t do it.”

“Four.”

“Virg – “

“Three.”

“Come on…”

“Two.”

“Don’t!”

And just like that, the button was pushed…and…nothing happened.  Just like Scott had said.  Nothing that anyone other than Scott, who had requested the button, and Virgil, who was now wearing the jetpack, would know about, anyway.  Thankfully the incredulous widening of Virgil’s eyes as the button was pushed and the power kicked in was not noticed by the other brothers who were still busily watching Scott at the time, giving the second eldest time to quickly shelve any reaction he may have wanted to make.

“So, Virg, what is it? What did it do?”  Alan asked as silence filled the room.

“Nothing,” Virgil choked out, before clearing his throat and trying again a bit more convincingly.  “I guess Scott was right, it isn’t linked up to anything.  I think maybe you and I should have a bit of a chat with Brains about that later, huh Scott?  You know, to check if there are any more little buttons like this that could be hiding away in any of our other equipment.”

“Yeah, sure Virgil,” Scott agreed grumpily from where he had fallen back to the couch, nervous and exhausted.

“Wait, I don’t get it. If it really did do nothing, then why all the fuss?”  Gordon asked.

“It’s probably the flu,” Virgil replied, coming to Scott’s rescue.  “You know how the meds can make him delirious sometimes.  We should probably do what he says and end the session after all.  It’s been a long day.”

Neither John nor the younger two seemed to buy it entirely, but whatever it was the elders were hiding, they would find out in due course.  They had their ways, they always did.  All said and done, they waved their goodbyes to John and off they went. All except Virgil, who began the process of extricating himself from the jetpack, and Scott, who sat sheepishly to one side studying his own feet far too hard while refusing to look Virgil in the eye.  Even when said brother came and took a seat right beside him.

“So…” Virgil began. “A BACK MASSAGER?!”

“Would you believe me if I said it was there for therapeutic purposes?”

“Not a chance.”

“And how much will it cost me to keep this one quiet?  You know, just between you and me?”

“Well, that depends. Firstly, there’s the cost of my time to redesign this thing and hide the button better so that the others will never find out.  Then there’s the additional time and cost to have one fitted into Thunderbird Two. Oh, and the Exosuit, of course.”

“Of course,” Scott replied, with a huff.

“And I’m guessing there’s a similar system already built into Thunderbird One somewhere, which we’ll also need to hide?”

“Maybe…” Scott trailed.

“In that case, I’ll think about it and let you know.  Until then, you’re still grounded.  And if you even think about defying my rules and trying to break out again like you did yesterday, you know what’s going to happen.”

And with a smirk and a “see you later, big brother”, Virgil was gone, off to talk to Brains about a few little ‘improvement’ ideas of his own and leaving Scott to sulk all alone.

So much for Commander’s privileges.  Sometimes little brothers were the worst.  At least he could be thankful that Virgil hadn’t discovered the code to activate the heated shoulder straps for Winter flying.  If he had to build those into the Exosuit as well, they’d never get Virgil out of it.