#my heart rate JUMPED and i can't stop shaking

[nightmare-niko]

Routines In The Night [Nicholas Alexander Chavez x reader]

Warnings: alcohol consumption, vague-ish descriptions of clubbing, raw sex (don't do that), completely self-indulgent

A/n: i am just a girl and i cannot help the things my mind comes up with. also this is my first actual smut in years so lmk how I did hehehe

Word count: 2273

Copying or translating my writing is not allowed. If you see my work on another site it is stolen. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.

It's been quite a long time since you went out with your friends. Life gets in the way sometimes! But tonight, the stars have aligned, and all of your schedules lined up perfectly. You don’t remember being this excited to see your friends, but now you all were in your apartment getting ready for your night out.

"So I don’t know when the boys are gonna get here-“ your best friend; Violet sits on your bedroom floor, curling her hair. “But I think Evan said something about bringing a new friend?”

“Violet you can't just let strangers hang with us! What if he's a weirdo?!" You’re mostly joking. You knew your friends. Realistically you had nothing to worry about.

“What if he’s ugly?” your other Friend interjects.

“Oh my god! Hayley!” Violet chokes out a surprised laugh.

“What it’s a valid question!” She defends.

"I'm sure he will be completely normal." You try to expel the chaos beginning to build throughout your small apartment while the three of you continue to get ready.

•

An excessive amount of knocks on your door makes you jump.

You grumble obscenities on the way to open your door. "You know Evan- You don't have to—“ you stop in your tracks. Sure, there was Evan and your other friend Mike, but there was also a new guy—a beautiful guy. Was it suddenly getting hot in here??

"Oh okay drool much?" Evan jokes and you snap out of your man-induced trance.

“Hi, I'm Nick" he offers his hand for you to shake.

Your hand is quite small compared to his, but unlike most guys you’ve met, his hand is gentle. He certainly isn't trying to crush your hand (why do guys do that?). As the other guys walk into your apartment, Nicholas stays in your doorway with you as you introduce yourself,

“Come in! You have to meet the others!" You take his hand and lead him into your living room.

•

The music was loud, the air was hot, and the lights pulsed and changed erratically. You danced along to whatever generic set the DJ played, you honestly were too drunk to care. This is what you needed. While you and your girls danced carelessly with each other, the guys stayed back at your table.

All of them seemed pretty caught up in their drunken conversations. Not Nicholas though, no. His eyes had been on you the second you clambered onto the dance floor. You loved it.

You felt Violet's arm wrap around your waist, "are you gonna deal with that? " She borderline shouts in your ear to combat the loud music. "Who? Pretty boy over there?" You lock eyes with Nick across the room, he quickly looks away—taking a sip of his drink. "Maybe... you think you can get Hayley distracted so I can lure him ?"

She giggles and pulls away; you don't care how Violet was planning on making distance-- but you trusted her. With a sensual sway of your hips, you walk over to Nicholas. None of your other friends seem to notice your presence, not that you mind though.

"So, you gonna keep on staring or are you gonna dance with me?"

The man before you smirks, he takes you in quickly, "How about both?" He offers his hand to you. You take it gratuitously, even in your heels he had height over you. It was hot. Maybe it was the lights or the alcohol in your system-- or maybe both, but you had to have him.

To say the two of you were dancing was a stretch, to say the least… You wrap your arms around his neck, you were so not remembering this tomorrow at the rate you were going.

“How long were you going to sit there staring at me for?” Your question was light-hearted at best.

"Until I was blackout probably," He laughs shyly.

You laugh along with him, grinding along to the beat of the music, you could live this moment forever. "Usually everyone comes back to mine and sleeps over after clubbing. You down?”

He smiles, "Sure, why not.”

•

Somehow you managed to get all of your drunk friends back to your home safely. Now all you had to do was (try to) relax, you sneak away from all of your friends and into your bedroom.

It took you longer than usual to remove your makeup and change into your pajamas due to the drinks you had tonight, but you managed.

What time was it? You didn't know, your phone was dead!

Back in your living room, your friends lay sleeping (?) scattered around Violet and Hayley both still in their makeup and heels. You didn't dare wake them, they knew where your makeup wipes and extra clothes were. All you needed was your bed.

•

4 am. It was 4 am and you were wide awake. Wide awake with a raging headache, that is. You groan before tugging off your oh-so-comfortable blanket. The hardwood floors were cold against your bare feet-but you didn't care.

Stumbling to the kitchen through the darkness of your home was a situation you found yourself often, but now you had the added addition of staying quiet. The last thing you needed was more hungover zombies.

The moonlight from your open windows lit up your kitchen counter just enough for you to grab the nearest pain relief medicine and a drink in peace. Now here came the hard part-- walking back in the dark. Why didn't you bring your phone?!

The door of the bathroom swings open-- you gasp dramatically. "Jesus Nick! You fucking scared me,” you whisper yell at the taller man.

"Sorry! I had to— uh I didn't think anyone was awake." He flicks off the light and steps closer to you.

The moonlight paints across Nicholas’ face in a way that has you speechless. "Well, uhm-are you -" You stumble over your words. "Do you need anything? A blanket? Water? I can see if there are sweatpants you can wear."

For a moment you think he's going to decline your offer-- “Actually, a blanket and sweats would be awesome… If you don't mind."

"I don't mind at all-- Here follow me.” You continue your path to your bedroom, only this time with the hottest man you've ever seen trailing behind you.

Inviting him into your room! What if he gets the wrong idea? (Is it the wrong idea if you really do wanna fuck?) "Sorry for the mess... You can sit on my bed while I look." You awkwardly point at your bed as if its location wasn't obvious. "It's cute in here, very cozy." Nicholas takes in his surroundings— trying and failing to distract himself from your extremely short pajama shorts. "Thanks, here." You hand him some clothes leftover from friends, "Hope they fit." You hear him mutter a thanks before you go back to searching for a blanket. Why is he being so quiet? When you look over at him, he's staring: again. You bite back a laugh.

”You have quite the staring problem, you know?” You tease. He smiles something wicked, his dark brown eyes dark with want. Why stare when you can just shoot your shot?”

He throws his hands up in defense, "I mean hey, I made it this far!”

“Oh yeah- "You remark sarcastically, "Remind me what base ‘sitting on a hot girl's bed and staring at her ass’ is again?"

"Oh, so that's how we're playing it?" He stands up and takes one big step towards you

“That's how we're playing it.” You tease, standing up on your tippy toes to drape your arms over his shoulders.

His large hands wrap around your waist, pulling you into him. He hums in acknowledgment of your teasing. He was hard, you could feel him through his jeans.

How did you get into this situation? Were you complaining though?

No, not at alt. Nicholas' large hand cups your face sensually.

The Kiss was electric, not rough, but dominant. You didn't have the energy to fight for control, you just wanted him. Dazed, you pull back from the kiss. "I can't focus with you pressed against me like that." Your hands shoot from his neck to his belt buckle. “Bed, now." You demand, he quickly clambered onto your bed.

You pull his pants down to his ankles, and Nicholas kicks them the rest of the way down. Your heart racing as you follow him onto the bed, straddling his lap. His hands found their way to your hips, gripping them firmly as you leaned in for another heated kiss.

"Are you sure about this?" Nicholas whispered against your lips.

"Absolutely," you run your hands down his chest.

As things heated up between you two, a sudden noise from the living room made you both freeze. You remembered your friends sleeping just outside your bedroom door.

"We should keep it down," you giggled softly, pressing a finger to Nicholas' lips.

He nodded— a mischievous glint in his eyes. He presses a quick kiss into your lip and flips you onto your back. You find your eyes drifting down his torso, his cock tented in his boxers. You snap your eyes back up to his, the air thick with tension.

“Kiss me,” you beg, and he listens immediately. you tug on his bottom lip and he groans lowly. the position you were in made it impossible for you to not cross your ankles behind his back, pushing him against your throbbing core. You whimper, almost pathetic, but you couldn't care less about that right now.

You whine again, this time a desperate plea for more. “Mmm… Nick—please~” You beg against his lips.

“Tell me,” he commands. You whine again as his lip trail kisses along your neck, leaving marks at the base.

“More~” you manage to joke out.

“What do you want, beautiful? All you need to do is say it and I'll give it to you.” His voice is sultry against your ear, his breath leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“Clothes. off,” you demand.

You hear him chuckle sensually, as he leans back on his haunches. You swear all time freezes as you watch Nicholas take off his shirt. He was already the most attractive person on the planet with his pants off, and now here he was. Towering over you in his underwear, while you still had all of your clothes on. That had to change, sit up briefly as Nicholas helps you take off your sleep shirt.

Nicholas kisses you again, pushing you back down onto your plush pillows. In the heat of your kiss, Nicholas takes off your sleep shorts and leans back— he groans at the sight before him.

“look at you~” he tuts, “all fucked out and I haven't even touched you yet.”

“Nick, please-” you whine, bucking your hips in the air, desperate for any kind of friction. “Don't tease!”

finally, Nicholas stands up from your bed. Pulling his boxers down his boxers, revealing his throbbing cock. The tip is red and angry— leaking with precum. your mouth watered just at the sight.

he climbs back over you and back in between your thighs. his hungry eyes, fixed on your core as he runs his tip over your clothed clit. you whimper again— just as you're about to open your mouth to complain, he pulls your panties to the side and pushes into you in one motion.

You bite down on your lip to try to conceal your moan but the noise that you make is still extremely loud. the stretch burned, but god it felt heavenly. Nicholas clashes his mouth back onto yours at an attempt to hush your sounds— not that he wanted to. He wanted the whole city to hear you, but all of your friends were in the next room and that was not a conversation he wanted to have.

The steady rock of his hips has you barreling quickly towards your orgasm. The kiss is sloppy and rough— you couldn't think of a better thing to be doing at 5 am. He trails wet kisses to the sweet spot below your ear, then to your neck and collarbone.

With one hand tightly gripped on your hip, he was close. You knew because his thrusts were getting sloppier and rougher. With one final bite of the base of your neck, he sits up— free hand rubbing circles on your clit as the new angle had him hitting right you needed him.

Your back arches off of your bed in a dramatic display as your orgasm takes over you— you swear you blacked out for a moment. Nick pulls out of you in a hurry, white ropes of cum paint your torso and face and he groans gutturally.

the once cold air in your bedroom was now hot. the only sound was the combined sounds of you and Nicholas trying to catch your breath. sleep takes over you as you feel Nick wiping the cum off you with whatever was nearby.

"So," Nicholas whispered, running his fingers through your hair, "does this mean I get stay here tonight?" he brought a clean blanket over your naked bodies.

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "If that's not what that means I have no idea what does."

Tag list (If you want to be added just comment!)

@Nallasstuff @chmpgneprblem @qoopeeya

@lilybellalana @sleepysongbirdsings

[leehanascent]

Mr. Nice Guy, Fresh Guy

𐙚 sypnosis let me introduce myself, nice guy, fresh guy of the night (alright) everybody tells you better watch out girl.

꒰ png flirty!HAN TAESAN x fem!reader , fluff , neighbours to lovers , coworkers to lovers , mutual pinning , flirty taesan , lower case intended . cw petnames. wc 890 words, proofread ꒱

yu notes : oh no i think i have the taesan brainrot 👻 shout out to @sanaxo-o for proofreading this, without her this would actually flop 😵‍💫 thank you sm hon <33

𐙚 Wednesday

“let me (re)introduce myself, nice guy, fresh guy of the neighbourhood.” taesan raises his eyebrows in a flirty manner, his hands sliding through his hair in a slick motion before leaning once more on the fence separating his and your front-yard. you hold in a chuckle, nodding. as you glance his way, soon looking away, your focus still solely on the plants in your yard, badly needing your care after being left for so long by the previous owner.

“so..” taesan continues, clicking his tongue watching you curiously. “you free this weekend? you know since i helped you and all” hearing this, your head snaps towards his direction not believing the words escaping his mouth. taesan simply shoots you a wink, and you can't help but to chuckle. your head returning to it's original position, fixed on the plants.

thinking about it, his words were true. he did help you with stuff (moving things around to your new house, since he's strong and all;) and what's the hurt in repaying the favour and let him take you out? wait.. is this a date? “i can make time for you.” you reply to his words, which did take a bit longer than it's supposed to be. a shit eating grin slowly appears in taesan's face. so shitty you can feel it from the back of your head actually, “i can feel your stupid grin from here” you roll your eyes playfully, looking back at him spraying a bit of water his way.

taesan laughs as he dodges the water you're spraying mercilessly towards him. “is this your way to repay my deeds?”—”no but it would be if our hang out isn't a date” “oh.” taesan stops dodging the water fully just standing there while staring right at your eyes. a little smirk on his face. oh how bad you want to wipe it away from his stupidly handsome face. taesan lets out a chuckle, about to jump over the fence. “i'll spray you with the jet if you get any closer!!”—”fine!!”

𐙚 Thursday

“can you rate how excited are you for the date from 9 to 10?” taesan appears behind you, whispering close to you. his warm breath tickles your ear, sending shivers down to your spine making you almost jolt out in surprise. “a hello would be nice??!”—”hello” you roll your eyes, sighing as you shake your head in disbelief. what the hell is he doing in the ladies locker room? “what are you doing here? it's the ladies lock—” you pause, oh there's no such thing as a ladies locker here. a smirk grows on taesan face, leaning in on the lockers.

“this is not the changing room babe” you scrunch your nose looking away, feeling heat from your neck slowly going up your cheeks from the embarrassment. oh how you wish to just dissappear under a big rock. “don't call me that.” you utter, going back to your locker to continue arranging your stuff. “oh sorry, i was just warming up. who knows i'll use it often in the future” your whole face is crimson red by now, forcing you to exit the shared locker room “hey wait you haven't rate the date yet!” “it's still in two days!!” “well should we do it now?”

𐙚 Friday

“one more day.” taesan teasingly whispers, his voice entering your ear gently and swiftly exiting the place as if nothing had happened. as if he didn't relentlessly tease you today, and as if his words wouldn't bother you the whole day and of course not forgetting the playful wink he'd send you before going out through the door. this is really bad for your heart. it's the second day of your shift here on the pizza store, but you're already pondering whether to quit or not. he really knows your weak spots. you thank the universe for making him work in the delivery rather than cashier or anything else involving being close to you 24/7. cause you would definitely would not survive.

𐙚 D-DAY(TE)

taesan rests his head on the palm of his hand looking at you intently as you twirl the pasta around your fork nervously. “look at my eyes” you give him a quick glance before holding in your laugh, looking back at your plate. “stop looking at me that way!”—“with these sexy eyes of mine?” you roll your eyes playfully still not looking his way. “oh come on just give in my shawty”—“shut up!!” taesan let out a small ‘ouch’ when you nudge his legs with your own under the table. he soon laughs holding his hand up in surrender. “atleast you're looking at my eyes now.”

you smile, okay, maybe his eyes are... what's the word? sexy? no, not that, but whatever the way to describe his shining, shimmering eyes, you wouldn't be able to say it out loud. it would obviously bruise your ego. “swooned by the nice guy's charm?” taesan raises his eyebrows, a mischievous smile overcoming his lips. yeah, that's it his eyes are charming, and yes, you probably did get swooned by the ‘nice guy's charm.’

2024 ©️ dalliesque

striked cannot be tagged !!

@ :: @gyuvinreblog , @hyunhanie , @keii-starz , @starryriize , @eun-luv , @bambisnc , @intakstars , @enhacolor

@yochubi

[smuddee-papabear]

naga partner manhandles you with their tail 🙏

Ooh I love nagas. You didn't specify gender so I'm going to make both gender neutral

gender neutral reader X gender neutral naga

Tw: rough handling, biting kink

---

Most mornings were easy, your partner was too busy warming up on their heating pad to complain too hard about you going into work. The day would start with you wriggling your way from their sizable tail before taking a shower. You'd get your breakfast and coffee before leaving after giving them a peck on the cheek.

Some mornings, however, they wouldn't let you go without a fight. This was one of them.

"I have to go into work." You know they won't care about that the moment their tail wraps your leg.

Your naga lets out a huffy sigh, tail trailing up. "I could provide you with everything you need without that silly job getting in the way."

"That silly job pays for your food bill." You tease, turning to look at them. It was a mistake. The way the morning light shines on their gorgeous scales is far too distracting. "And your heat pad."

Your naga partner clearly doesn't like that assessment. Their expression darkens slightly. "I can feed us both and I don't need a fancy pad to warm myself."

"Oh no?" Your raised eyebrow is another mistake.

You yelp as a strong force shoves unexpectedly on your chest. Before you know it you're wrapped in a coil and pushed into the floor right in front of them.

Your breath is knocked out of you, and not just from the force of it. Naga!Partner's eyes gleam with satisfaction as they loom above you. You're sure they can feel the jump in your heart rate. A devilish smile crosses their face.

"If you think I can't, get out of my coils and go into work."

For a moment you stare open mouthed at them. Get out of their coils? How does this prove that they can provide for you?

Finally you start wriggling against the well muscled body, trying to ignore how intently your naga watches. It doesn't take long before you're out of breath.

Unwilling to admit defeat you start kicking your legs and manage to make minor headway. Before you can be proud of that you hear tutting from Naga!Partner and another section of tail wraps your legs before you're yanked upside-down and dangled in front of the naga's eyes.

Heat flushes your face. "Hey! I was doing what you told me to!" A chaste kiss to your lips has you too flustered to splutter out more of your indignance.

"Are you just giving up?" The smug tone causes your blush to spread further.

You try to curl up and grab their tail but are stopped when they use another coil to shove up into your back, arching it almost uncomfortably. Once again the breath is knocked from your lungs.

You barely have time to get it back before Naga!Partner shifts the end of their tail to force your legs open just enough to put you in a very vulnerable position. They tease your crotch with the tip.

Despite what you should be wanting, to get free, a sharp moan escapes your mouth.

Your naga's breath tickles the back of your neck and sends shivers through your body. "I can provide for you." Their hiss is somehow so loving and so angry at the same time.

You open your mouth but are embarrassed the only thing leaving it is a breathy whine. Something cold and flat slides into your hand. Only a moment goes by before you realize what. Your phone; a clear demand to call in sick.

It takes effort but you manage to speak without another whine. "I have-...I have to work."

"No," Naga!Partner's teeth skim the skin on your neck. You can feel their fangs trail along. Goosebumps form where they do. "I can provide for you."

"Need...need t wo-work...!" You manage to choke out. To be honest you don't really care about it anymore. Your heart is racing, body throbbing with every shift of your naga's muscles, mind foggy with need.

Their fangs push into your skin. It's not enough to break it but it is enough to cause a jolt through your shaking frame. "I will provide you with what you need today."

You call in sick, and just as promised your Naga!Partner provides all you need and more.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

I put a spell on you

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 4

Prompt: Mistletoe

Rated: T

Tags: Magic AU; Witch Eddie; Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington; Sexual tension; Pining; Flirting

Notes: Set in the same universe as Spellbound

“What are you doing up there?”

Eddie shrieks, losing his balance and nearly toppling off his branch. He rudders his arms through the air like some sort of idiot before he manages to right himself and grab the tree trunk for support.

“Jesus, Harrington,” he swears. “Did nobody teach you not to sneak up on people hanging in trees or do you want me to break my neck?”

“Sorry,” says Steve, even though he sounds anything but. He’s smiling, the stupid, smug bastard. Eddie hates how pretty it makes him look. “I don’t talk to many people hanging in trees, usually. Which brings me back to my question. What are you doing up there? Is it a magic thing?”

Eddie’s first impulse is to throw back a snide remark. He knows how the fine townspeople gossip behind his and Wayne's backs. The trailer park trash with the witch blood.

Except Steve has never called him that. Steve’s never been anything but polite to him, and even now, his eyes only hold curiosity as he watches Eddie scramble off the tree.

“Yes, it's a magic thing,” Eddie grumbles, dusting bark off his clothes and picking sticks from his hair. “I'm harvesting mistletoe. You don't usually find it around here, so when you see it, you gotta snatch it.”

Steve’s brow wrinkles. “What, really? Isn't it a bit early for that? It's hardly even April, and anyway, can't you just use the store-bought plastic stuff?”

“Wha-?” Eddie says.

He's a bit surprised there's no audible sound when it finally clicks.

“Oh God, no,” he blurts. “I'm not using it as a Christmas decoration. The berries go into potions and stuff.”

He fumbles around in his pocket until he finds the plastic container with his harvest, flipping open the lid. Steve eyes the small, white berries, eyebrows rising in astonishment.

“I didn't know you also made potions.”

“I don't,” Eddie says. “My uncle does, but you don't want him climbing any trees with his back and knees. You gotta be careful with your potion ingredients. A few too many of these babies and you'll kill a guy instead of curing his arthritis, or give him a massive case of mud butt at the very least. I ain't fucking with that. Spells and charms only for me.”

Steve stares at him, nose wrinkled in mild disgust. Eddie mentally slaps himself. He's been oddly rambly around Steve lately, and he doesn't even know why.

“Anyhow,” he says. “Something I can help you with, or-?”

Steve perks up.

“As a matter of fact, yes,” he says, reaching inside the collar of his sweater to pull out something on a leather string. Eddie’s heart jumps into his mouth. “Y'know this charm you made for me?”

“No refunds,” Eddie says automatically. “I told you I couldn't make Wheeler fall back in love with you if she doesn't have feelings for you anymore. I can only-”

“Amplify feelings that are still there,” says Steve. “I know. I'm not here to complain.”

Eddie blinks at him. “You're not?”

Steve shakes his head, averting his eyes and running a hand through the hair at the back of his head. Boyish. Bashful. Unbearably pretty.

“No, man. If anything, I think I should thank you. Things with Nancy have been going great.”

“But that can't be-” Eddie squawks. Bites his tongue. Clears his throat. “I mean … they have?”

Steve nods enthusiastically. “Oh yeah! She's really been coming around. I think this thing might actually be working.”

Eddie watches him twirl the small pouch between his fingers and needs to use all of his willpower to stop himself from blurting out the truth. That it can't be working. There's no way on earth it can be working.

Because Eddie’s a fraud. Because Eddie’s magic has been so watered down through the generations, is so thinned out and weak, he couldn't cast a functional spell if his life depended on it.

Also probably because the lock of hair in Steve’s charm isn't Nancy's, but Eddie’s. But he can't very well tell him that, can he? Not when Steve is standing in front of him with that big smile and that pretty pink blush on his face, looking so hopeful and in love it makes Eddie’s chest pull uncomfortably.

“-and she said she might be there, so I was wondering if maybe you could … I dunno, do a little extra?”

“I, um-” Eddie snaps back to the present, trying and failing to reconnect Steve's string of monologue to their previous conversation. “Sorry, what?”

Steve shakes his head at him, but his smile is kind.

“Heidi's birthday party next weekend? Nance said she might come, and I think that, if I play my cards right, I might …” He trails off and licks his lips, a thin sheen of moisture on pink skin. When his eyes meet Eddie’s again, they're hesitant. “I was hoping that, maybe, you'd know a way to increase my chances a little? Some sort of spell or whatever? I'd pay you, of course.”

Eddie knows he should turn him down. Make up some excuse, tell him he's busy. Better yet, tell him the truth. How there's no spell in the world that'll do what Steve is hoping to accomplish. How messing with people's emotions always comes back to kick you in the ass.

“Sure,” he says. “Swing my place tonight, I'll see what I can do.”

“Really?” Steve beams at him, bright like the sun. “Brilliant, thank you so much! Anything I should bring?”

“Just your fine self and the money,” Eddie says, pocketing the container with his berries and turning to go. “Oh, and I hope you're okay with dancing naked under the full moon?”

He really, really should stop this charade, sooner rather than later. It's hard, though, when Steve flushes and sputters like he does.

Maybe he'll keep it up just a little longer.

More holiday drabbles

[exquisiteserotonin]

The Senator's Daughter

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Pairing: Emperor Geta x Female Reader

Word count: 5.5K | AO3

Summary: A personal invitation from Emperor Geta to a lavish dinner party at the palace gives your more than you bargain for.

Warnings: Dubcon, Oral (F and M receiving), Finger fucking, cunnilingus, blow jobs, semi-public sex, inexperienced, but strong reader, Geta is scary but you kinda like it

TW: One particular scene could really be troubling to some, especially as far as consent goes

A/N: Thank you to my darlings @pink-whiskey-woman and @redhotkitchen for being my beta readers for this one! Enjoy my loves, any comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

Also this does have a bit of plot because I honestly can't help myself.

As a senator’s eldest daughter, you revel in societal privileges that so many only dream of indulging. Opulent banquets, the best seats for theatrical performances and the gladiator games, the list is long and the invitation is always open. You’ve always had a fear of missing out on anything even remotely exciting even as a child. Two decades of life have passed for you and that feeling intensifies. You beg your protective father to go to the Gladiator games and banquets for the entire kingdom — all you know to be merely an excuse to showcase the wealth and opulence of the empire. Yet it is a request he gladly fulfills. But they exhaust you, especially with the loud, raucousness of sycophants, trying to capture a glimpse of someone important. It makes you feel like you’re just like everyone else. But you aren’t: you’re better. It’s your father’s fault really. He didn’t spare the expense of educating you in all the subjects and languages. As you’ve grown older, you walk with confidence in the fact that not only is your status deserved, it is earned. 

You’ve been begging your father to take you to one of the more private dinners reserved for only the most important but he always says no. You’re of age you tell him, practically shouting it loud enough for all in the Forum to hear. ”You weren’t invited,” he tells you, ”I was.”

Hearing the whispers of another invitation-only, luxurious gathering, you are fully prepared to argue with your father again about why you should be able to attend. He sees you coming, your stola flowing swiftly as though in a storm. He holds a hand up to stop your argument before it even starts. The audacity of him to tell you no again has you shaking. 

“Before you begin another tirade, daughter,” he asserts, ever exhausted but also ever proud by your keen, discerning candor. He hands you a roll of parchment, “the Emperor, Geta, has personally asked for your presence at the next palace gathering.”

The unexpectedness of this news nearly causes you to stumble over the bottom of your gown. Your father keeps his eyes on you as you unroll the parchment. The invitation is simple and handwritten, requesting your presence in Emperor Geta’s impeccable script. Your excitement can hardly be contained and you are nearly jumping as you hold the parchment tightly in your hands.

“I needn’t remind you of how you must comport yourself as a member of this family,” he says, but by saying as much he is reminding you. 

“Father, when have I ever comported myself in a way that reflected anything less than all you have given and instilled in me?”

A smile and proud admission of this form on his face. But you also nod, taking stock in his words. You intend to walk away, but watch him closely as he wrings his hands together—a sign that all is not well with him. Your hands find his aged ones and they tremble beneath your touch. 

“Father, something troubles you.” 

It is a statement, not a question. 

His eyes turn to you and you can see they are glassy with the onset of tears. Your heart softens for him. Your stoic father rarely shows anything but unwavering fortitude and strength. 

“You are no longer a girl,” he states, his chest rising and falling with a deep sigh, “but a woman, a stubborn and sometimes impetuous one, but a woman nonetheless.” 

Your eyes crinkle as you share a moment of laughter with your father in acknowledging this truth.

“But you are still my daughter,” he affirms, pride brimming from his very soul, “my beautiful, intelligent, headstrong daughter—do not take this request from the emperor lightly.” 

You breathe in his words and the ambiguity behind them. He squeezes your hand before he speaks again. 

“The road to power and influence is rarely paved solely by integrity and good intention,” he declares as he brushes a wavy tendril from your face. “Do you understand?”

You lean forward and squeeze your father’s hands again with an assured confidence—one that almost feels like defiance within you. You hold your head high and a smile forms on your face. 

“I believe I understand exactly what you mean.” 

***

The day of the palace gathering arrives faster than you anticipate. You’ve been busying yourself with reading the latest in literature while acquiring the perfect garment for the evening. Sparing no expense, you find a gown of saffron yellow, that when hit just right with sunlight, shines like satin fields of gold. The palla you wear is reminiscent of the clear blue waters of the ocean. You sit before your reflection and dip your fingers in a small bowl of water tinted a rich coral-pink from crushed poppies tapping them lightly on your cheeks and lips. Then you lightly comb your long waves until they cascade down your back and shoulders. You take one more look at yourself in the mirror, more than satisfied with your appearance. The time to leave is here. 

The moment you step foot inside the palace walls, you have to take a breath at the grandeur of all that surrounds you. Familiar faces greet you, of course, they’ve known you even as a child because of your father. Some steal more than one glance in your direction, perhaps it was the gown or maybe they hadn’t seen you in some time. Men approach you, making small talk of how you’ve grown. You surprise them with your talk of literature, language, and politics and some are more impressed than others while the fools are not at all. You are quickly ushered to the private wing of the emperors’ home where most of the revelries will occur. 

A servant approaches you offering an ornate chalice filled with red wine which you gladly take. You scan the room as you bring the chalice to your lips. As you do, you catch the Emperor Geta, his eyes set upon you while his hands palm the opulently, gold-embroidered robes at his thighs. You smile into your chalice as before taking one more sweep around the hall, intensely aware that the emperor’s eyes follow you around the room. And it reminds you of what you have always known: You are better than anyone else invited in this room. 

A well-dressed guard finds you and bows his head as he presents an arm to you. 

“My lady,” he begins, “Caesar has reserved space for you with the imperial family and the other dignitaries.” 

Your breath hitches for a moment and you hope you’ve done well enough to keep your composure. In your periphery you see Emperor Geta leaning forward upon his chaise, his fingers are stacked with rings and he is grazing his lips with them as he watches and waits for you. You make your way to him from across the room and despite being the one on the move, it feels as though you’re being hunted. In seconds you are standing before him, his eyes are traversing the expanse of your body from your head to your toes and back up again. The intensity of it, of him, is heavy and it envelops you like a fog. 

“Sit,” he directs you and gestures to an empty, cushioned space beside him on his lectus, smoothing the cushions with the palm of his hand. 

His brother and co-emperor Caracalla interjects with a pout as he feeds his pet monkey, Dundas from a bunch of grapes, one by one, “Brother, she is a lady of society and your personal guest, you should say please!!!” 

He takes a deep breath through his nose, his lips tightening at his brother’s words. The moment he turns his gaze back to you, the late afternoon sunlight hits his eyes just so, making them glimmer a rich, golden amber. He gestures next to him again with his right hand as he squeezes his armrest with the other. 

“Please,” he pauses for emphasis, “sit.”

Emperor Geta holds a hand out to you and you take it. His eye contact with you is unmatched as he presses his lips to your hand. This close, they are fuller than you imagined and even softer than you could dream if you allow yourself. 

“First a personal invitation,” you say with a light smile, “and now what certainly must be a most coveted space next to you, dear Caesar. To what do I owe such an honor?”

“Your father has served us well in the senate,” he begins, “we used to play together as children, do you not recall?” 

You laugh, knowing the reality is different from his recollection. You played in the vicinity of each other as very young children. Age and influence would separate you, year after year. 

“I’m hardly the girl I was,” you say, meeting his eyes with the same intensity, “and you barely knew me then. Why summon me now, if not for nostalgia?” 

“To know the woman you are now, the one that makes every person’s head turn the moment she walks in the room.” 

Before you can respond, a melody rings out bouncing off the shining, marble walls. It takes your attention from the handsome emperor and takes your breath away with its beauty. Already, this is everything you have dreamed of and the evening is only just beginning. The music builds as more musicians enter the triclinium. A masked pantomime dancer pirouettes before you, each step a story, a declaration of love, the agony of war, and the tragedy of death. Each step echoes from the music into your soul and holds tightly onto your heart making you feel everything through each wave of an arm, a tip of a head, flicks of a fingertip, and the point of a toe. Through it, you hear Caracalla giggling and elated, clapping his hands and waving his body around with each musical change. As the audience stands and claps at the pantomime's end, tears are falling freely from your eyes. 

You feel Geta’s bejeweled fingers wrapping around your arm and pulling it close to him. 

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his eyes on you. “Is it not?” 

You nod, squeezing his hand in response to his.

Caracalla’s ear splitting laughter rings out again as Dundas scurries around the lectus, stealing scraps of food from people’s fingers. You watch as the monkey creeps towards Geta’s fingers as she attempts to steal whatever she can from him. He quickly lets go of your hand to wave her away before turning to his brother, fighting to keep calm as he seethes through his teeth to keep Dundas away from him. 

“Every military conquest is a show of our power to the world,” you hear a guest nearby, “by might, we will see the glory of Rome flourish!”

You turn towards the direction of the conversation and see some faces you recognize as colleagues of your father. 

“And you believe that’s where the glory of Rome lies? A forced hand? Barbarism?” Their talk compels you to join in their discussion. “The glory of Rome rests in her ability to exchange knowledge, to expand what we already know through partnerships, to make what we have better.”

They pause and chuckle under their breath. 

“You are a fool hardy idealist just like your father!”

They laugh, passing judgement upon you. 

“My father is a scholar and a pacifist,” you retort, “I fail to see how that should be misconstrued as weak and defamatory.”

“Conquests are how we absorb the best of the knowledge we find,” one of the men says as he waves a dismissive hand at you. 

You feel a shift next you and notice that Emperor Geta is returning his focus to you and your discussion. He leans in, placing a hand upon your knee. In an instant the men’s expressions tighten at the corners of their wrinkled eyes. Any ease they hold in their body disappears almost immediately as the emperor attends to you. 

“Through war? Through death?” you counter, “At the cost of the lives of our finest men and our most precious resources?”

“Expanding the empire expands our resources.”

Emperor Geta moves his eyes, deep in thought between you and the senators. He measures your composure in your responses and places a thoughtful hand on his chin. A sense builds in you that he is intent on listening to the next words that are ready to leave your lips.

“Senators, war is an unsustainable solution for Rome,” you assert, “and it will only contribute to her downfall.”

The old men remain silent at your words and it amplifies the chatter around you. The buzz in the air intensifies as you turn to see Emperor Caracalla stand with his arms stretching out in greeting to another guest. 

“MACRINUS!” He cries out with an excited clap of his hands. “What gifts do you have for us this evening?”

The arms dealer Macrinus walks in, his flowing robes of blue billowing behind him. He approaches the lectus like he belongs here. His bravado is too much, you think, as you watch him greet Caracalla with the smallest of bows and it fills you with unease. It is a sign of how little he respects the throne. Geta’s brother doesn’t seem to notice and continues to smile with the utmost elation. Macrinus presents two men, their hands are bound in chains and their faces contort in both despondency and fury.  One of the senators with whom you had just shared a war of words steps out calling attention to all the guests. 

“Gentleman and ladies,” he looks at you with a smirk, “what better way is there to celebrate Rome’s strong hand and influence than to see these two men battle?”

You hate him more than you did even just a moment ago. You tighten your lips and take long deep breaths to your nose to stave off your shaking anger. 

“To the death!” Caracalla screams, taking a drunken sip of wine before leaning on the shoulders of one of his lovers. 

The applause around you is deafening as each and every guest breaks into fits of screams, hoots, and gasps. The air around you feels thick as the two prisoners are leashed upon each other. Their sweat and blood simmers and it makes you feel dizzy. Every punch, kick, and strangle the men inflict upon each other makes you wince. You’ve been to gladiator games in the coliseum, but seeing a battle so close, within arms reach, evokes a different feeling entirely. Your head feels light as the smell of iron blood grows thicker and you grow sicker. You lean forward bracing your hand on Geta’s shoulder, while closing your eyes tight.  You hear grunts and screams of anger and pain resound across the room. Geta has taken a hold of your hand pressing it to his chest as you lean your face into the shoulders of his robes, anything to fend off the visual of two men killing each other from your mind. With each strike the men make, the guests provoke the most brutal of blows until you hear a squelching sound and a chorus of gasps. 

“It is over,” Geta calls to you, before joining in on the applause. 

You open your eyes to see a loyal guard dragging the body of one man off the floor, leaving behind a trail of blood while the other one is back in chains and taken away.  You draw your hand to your lips and pull in a deep breath, but it makes everything you feel worse. The blood is thicker and you’re swallowing the metallic flavor that has penetrated the air directly on your tongue. 

“Your excellency,” you say faintly, “I can’t breathe, I need air.” 

No one seems to take notice of your plight but the Emperor. He takes your hand and ushers a loyal guard to you. He takes your right arm, while the guard takes your left. You feel lighter as soon as the smell of fresh air and flowers float to your nose. You close your eyes as he leans you against a column. The rattling of the guards armor shuffles quickly and you feel a cool, damp cloth against your face. The softness of the touch tells you it is Geta who holds it there.

“Leave us,” he orders and you hear the guard’s quick march disappear into the distance.

“Caesar,” you sigh, opening your eyes as you brace yourself against the column, “I am sorry.”

The sun is already dipping well below the horizon and as he removes the cloth from your head, you find yourself being drawn in by the pools of honey that are his eyes. This quiet sunset is a calming foil to the frenzied and severe nature he usually displays to Rome and all her citizens. 

“You were raised witnessing the spectacle of gladiator games,” the smile he gives you is smug. “How was bearing witness to a more private show such a difficulty for you?”

You snicker quietly as you shake your head, “the proximity of the…final act was something I’ve never accounted for.”

“And yet you’ve always wanted to be here,” he says, moving closer to you, backing you further into the stone column. “My dear, I’ve heard the whispers.” 

You could counter him, deny his allegations despite their truth. Denial in this moment would serve neither one of you. You merely raise a brow at him and lift your shoulders in a slight shrug. 

“Will you show you me the rest of the garden until I’m well enough to return to the party or return home,” you ask standing forward from the column. 

Geta’s eyes twitch when you offer the idea of returning home. He offers his hand and you begin a slow amble around the imperial gardens. The oxygen that every plant in the garden releases helps to push the sickness away. The beauty of how the myrtles and mulberry trees line the sides of the garden and the way peony bushes form a perfect grid among the fountains is the medicine you need. 

“You speak so freely to the senators, without thought of repercussions or judgement,” Geta observes aloud. 

“I speak to anyone when I am able to offer the truth,” you reply with a sigh. 

“You hold judgement for them,” he takes another bold step forward, “what makes you believe you have a better understanding of politics, of what the Roman people need?” 

“Caesar, I am not blinded by power,” you respond, “I seek knowledge and understanding and I’ve no need to impress anyone in a position of power.”

“You do nothing to hide the disdain on your face when you speak of those in power,” the emperor observes, “do you speak of me with such disdain?”

“Those senators were sycophants for your father and would do anything to further his agenda,” you contend as you walk past a nearby peony bush, dancing your hands over the blooming, fuschia buds. “Even if it means manipulating you as a means to your deceased father’s end.” 

You can see Emperor Geta beginning to shake and take quick breaths through his nose. He rushes at you with gritted teeth and you raise your arms ready to push back against him if he were to strike, “Tread carefully, you speak of things of which you have no understanding.” 

“You can build this reign to leave your legacy for Rome,” you maintain, holding your arms in front of your body, “not for those senators, not for your brother, not for Macrinus.” 

You wait to gauge his response at the mention of the arms dealer. You wonder if the Emperor has any inkling that Macrinus is not to be trusted. 

“Macrinus is a trusted adviser and has played a valuable role in the expansion of Rome,” Geta informs you, stepping forward to close the space between you. 

“He walks in your palace and sits at your throne as if it belongs to him,” you say, unwavering in the way you speak each word. “He is making you fight his war.”

“I am not a warmonger.” 

“I did not say you were,” you assert, gritting your teeth to hold back your frustration, “but everyone will believe you to be if you do not take charge of your own reign, dear caesar.”

He stops and looks at you, his expression softening in the moonlight.

“Geta,” he says, his voice clear and unwavering, “you may call me Geta.” 

“That’s quite familiar, is it not?”

He takes a few steps forward and traces the curve of your face with his fingertips and caresses your arms before grabbing and pulling you towards him. It’s a little rough and your breaths grow quick and heavy as he hesitates before bringing his face close to yours. He is so close that only a slip of fabric could fit between. 

“It’s something true,” he answers and pulls you in for a kiss. 

He presses a hand to your chest before he brushes it upward to place it at our cheek, intertwining his fingers in your waves before pulling you deeper into his lips. You know his lips were soft from the way you let them brush your hand earlier but the way he kisses is wet, rough, and desperate. He breaks free for a moment so you both can come up for air. You lean your head against his, listening to his breath on yours. 

“Tell me something true,” he asks and you swear you hear a hint of pain in the deepest parts of his voice. 

“Your brother is mad,” you declare, a laugh curling up the corners of your lips. 

It is an unexpected delight to see him throw his head back in laughter, especially one that isn’t manic as those you’ve heard before. It is a truth even greater than the permission granted to call him by his name. He holds an arm out for you to hold before continuing your stroll around the garden. 

***

Even as the moon rises higher and higher into the deep night sky, the guests continue to revel in the luxuries of the palace. More food and wine are shared with excess and abandon and in the quiet of the night you hear overbearing shrieks of laughter and depravity from his brother, his lovers, and other patricians who have remained to enjoy the wealth of the throne. They are jumping up and down like monkeys, mirroring and playing against Caracalla’s Dundas. Every now and then you see a splash of wine dancing in the air, you hear the clanging of goblets and the shattering of plates, and so much wine is spilling that the aroma of it inundates the garden. 

The scene from afar is unsettling, like all those who stay have gone mad. You lean over and admire the large garden fountain, your fingers are dancing through the waters when Geta advances on you from behind, seizing your arms and whipping you around to face him. His hands grip your arms with unexpected strength as he pulls you towards him. 

“You touch water with the gentleness of a butterfly,” his breath, smelling of sweet wine, is hot on you, “tells me you’ve not known the touch of a man.”

You’re frozen in a fusion of fear and excitement as he spins you back around, pressing your body onto the fountain’s cold, wet stone. He presses his body to yours, and you can feel how hard he is beneath the lavish fabric of his robes. You nearly scream as he gathers the bottom of your gown, exposing your bare lower half to the cold night air. 

“No, Geta please!” you gasp, with tears forming from the corners of your eyes. 

Not this way. You plead in your head.

He comes around to look at your face shining in the moonlight. He wipes a single tear that has fallen down your cheek. 

“Do you think me to be a savage?” his voice quivers on the edge of sanity. “That I would steal your innocence?”

You shake your head as he wipes your salty tears onto your soft lips. On instinct and desire you act on your urge to wrap your lips around his thumb. He groans at the motion and rolls his eyes in ecstasy.

“May I touch you?” He asks with unexpected earnesty.

It’s so disarming, that you nod in agreement almost immediately. You can feel his eyes admire and with immediacy his hands are roaming your derrière until his fingers find your folds. You can feel the cold metal of his rings touching your skin the deeper he pushes them in. The novelty of feeling the touch of someone’s fingers but your own is arousing and intense. You squeeze him tightly and your eyes shut tight as he moves to where you remain unbroken. 

You twitch and take a deep breath whining when he halts his ministrations. Responding in kind to your body, he takes his fingers from your pulsing center. You’re panting, scared to look  behind you to discover his next move. You tremble and shake at the touch of his hands at your bottom. You hear him drop to his knees and before you can say a word his fingers are caressing your outer lips and his wet, hot tongue licks a long thick stripe at your opening. 

“By the gods,” you almost let out a loud scream. 

The reverberations of his laughter resound at your center and he continues the worship of your womanhood. Your breath is coming out in desperate pants as he devours you. Tears of euphoria peek from the corners of your eyes as you hold an arm to your mouth to silence your screams. 

You writhe against his face, your entire body on fire as he pleasures you. Your thoughts are chaotic as you glance at the crowd inside, knowing they might hear you, knowing they might find you at any moment. But even more, your body responds to every new sensation brought on by Geta’s tongue and mouth. The fullness of his lips imprint themselves on your body and soul as he devotes particular attention to the bud at your center—kissing it, sucking it as though it were a honeycomb given to him, personally, as a gift from the gods.

How were you to stifle your moans, how were you to hide this unbridled pleasure as he drinks you with the thirst of a man who has traversed a desert? Your breaths grow faster as though you are running a marathon and with each twist and brush of his tongue his name slips repeatedly from your lips. The quaking that emanates from your center is traveling to every part of your body in waves of pleasure you never knew possible. You come to the understanding that perhaps Emperor Geta does not care if you are found, perhaps he even wants it. 

“I---I can’t!!” You cry out, clutching the fabric of your gown between your fingers. 

“Yes,” he groans, then shakes his head, with a deep, voracious growl as he squeezes your thighs and buries his face deeper into you, “yes, you can.” 

In that moment you believe him and let go. And as your sex spills all over his face, you cry out his name into the night and the garden air. A laugh of satisfaction floats from his chest as he stands, allowing you a brief moment to compose yourself. Still catching your breath from your climax, he pulls you up to face him. You look at him with apprehension, unsure of what he will do and what you should do next. He caresses a few wayward tendrils of hair away from your face and lifts your chin with an unexpectedly gentle hand. Your slick shines on his face as he draws you near and kisses you, You can taste yourself, him, and the small remnants of wine that linger on his tongue. 

You stare at each other in silence, the raucous laughter, conversation, and music continues to permeate throughout the garden. They barely notice you through their hypnotic decadence. Geta then takes you by the hand leading you through the moonlit garden to his study. You notice the same palace guard from earlier following you. Scrolls and books line the wall and you can’t help but admire how the silver moonlight fills the room. 

“Wait here,” Geta commands, leaving you at a chair in the center of the room as he leaves with his loyal guard. 

Your eyes travel over the room, imagining what wonders and knowledge await you in the scrolls and books. Is it something that Geta would even allow? 

After several moments, Geta returns, his face free of any remaining makeup that adorned his face. His ornate, multi-layered tunics are gone in favor of a simpler robe yet still opulent with its gold embroidered leaves. He holds it at the waist and your body reacts to the sight of his bare chest he’s chosen to reveal to you. You grip the corners of your seat and the feeling of him stalking you comes over you again, despite only two of you being in the room. What did he want from you in a room where there was no escape?

And suddenly, he is standing before you. He takes a hand to your hair, a palm to your face, and his fingers to your chin tilting your gaze up to him. Your hand finds his arm, caressing it until your hand meets his. You lift his hands to your lips, placing a soft kiss on each finger. 

“Tell me,” you request, feeling your want grow for him, “how can I serve my emperor?” 

He looks upon you in an amalgamation of disbelief, desire, and appreciation. He licks his lips and smirks before opening his robe. A deep sigh escapes you at the sight of him. In the lamp light, his cock is perfectly lit, standing at attention for you. You know what he wants, but you want him to say it. 

“My lord?” You ask again. “Geta?

“Kneel.” He demands. 

Your heart and core pounds in equal measure as you bring your hands to the base of his cock. You wrap your right hand around him and pump up and down the length of him. He moans a prayer to the gods as you work on him. It turns into an even louder gasp as you take each of his balls into your mouth, rolling them along your tongue. Then with a long, wide flattening of your tongue, you taste him all the way to his weeping tip until you wrap your lips around it. 

“I am the gods’ favorite son,” he moans to the heavens, “to have been blessed with this.” 

You look up at him, his mouth agape as you move your mouth on him. He grabs your hair with his ring adorned fingers and pushes deeper into your mouth. With tears forming at the corners of your eyes, you fight against your gag reflex. A few adjustments at the back of your throat is just the thing you need to return your focus on taking him in your mouth. You hollow your cheeks, pulling him deeper until his cock-head hits the back of your throat.

His hand still holds on firmly to your wavy tresses while you keep your eyes on him. You know he is close from the way his breath comes out in desperate gasps and moans to the way his legs shake beneath him. After a few deep and unrelenting sucks, you focus your tongue and mouth on the head of his cock with quick shallow sucks. His praise for you echoes against the walls of the study until you return once again to slow, deep sucks until his voice quivers and his entire body follows with it. He pushes in a few final thrusts to the back of your throat and as he softens you taste him release within you and you swallow it all. A bit tries to escape your lips and you savor the last of it with your tongue. 

You hold each other’s gaze, breathless and knackered. Geta’s eyes are heavy and glassy with bliss and his neck and chest are flush with lust. He pulls you to standing and pushes your mussed hair from your face. He crushes his lips to yours in gratitude. 

“Only the gods could have promised a woman like you for me,” he says with undeniable pride. “A woman like you are what empresses are made of.”

Your heart skips a beat and beyond one lick of your soft, puffy lips you smile at him. Confidence presses your shoulders back to meet the same posture as your dear emperor. You bask in this moment, in this position knowing it is not only the one you deserve, but the one you have earned.

[ssentimentals]

seventeen members as love tropes: joshua

soulmates

'hand in hand, you and me. today, tomorrow, forever.'

when 00:00 glow green in the darkness, you clutch your bedsheets tighter, feeling light burn on your right wrist. it's happening. what everyone talked about, waited for, dreamed of. it tingles for few seconds and when it stops, you know that name of your soulmate is now etched on your wrist with black ink which will not come off no matter how hard you'll try. unspilled tears sting your eyes and you're about to go to the bathroom, when you hear careful knocking and gentle 'love?' from the other side of the door.

'joshua?' you question loudly before jumping from the bed and rushing to open the door. just like you predicted, your boyfriend is waiting on the other side, wearing oversized hoodie on top of his light blue pjs. 'babe, what-'

'your roommate is here?' he asks, interrupting you gently. at the shake of your head, he then points inside. 'can i come in then?'

for the first time since you started dating you hesitate. should you let him in when you don't know if it's his name on your wrist and vice versa? there are so many things on the tip of your tongue: have you checked? is it my name? am i your soulmate? your insides are churning just from the possibility of someone else's name being written on his wrist. joshua takes a second to assess your state and it doesn't take him long to understand what's happening with you. he's always been good at figuring out your feelings even before you did, always knew what to say or do to calm you down. before you can voice out your fears, his arms find their way around your waist, gently but firmly pulling you towards him. 'shh,' he whispers, hugging you tight. 'i know, love, i know.'

'i'm scared,' you mutter, hiding your face in his neck. and it's such a familiar place for you, you can't imagine not being able to do that, can't bear the thought of not having joshua this close to you.

you didn't know how joshua felt the same, how holding your trembling body in his arms made him want to tuck you away from this world and just forget about everything. if the stars decide that you two are not meant for each other then he'll write his own story, create another univerise in which you are his and he is yours because that's the only correct way of how it should be. he hasn't looked at his wrist, mostly because he is scared too but also because he doesn't have to look at it to know who is his fate. gulping, he tightens his arms around you, leaving small kisses on your shoulder.

'have you looked?' you ask in a small voice, biting your lower lip. 'what if-'

'look at me,' joshua asks, leaning back until you move your head and make eye contact. 'i haven't looked. we're both going to look right now but before we do, i just want you to know that it won't change a thing, okay? you are it for me and i don't care if universe agrees with me or not.'

'b-but, if it's not my name..' you start, not being able to finish that sentence because every word breaks your heart.

'then i will cover that name with yours,' joshua says with sureness of person who will not change his mind. 'i will go to the tattoo parlor right now and will make sure that only your name is on my wrist. i love you. do you love me?' at your nod, most beautiful smile blooms on his face. 'ah, i'm just the luckiest guy, aren't i? universe already blessed me with your love, let's check if it blessed me again, shall we?'

it's scary. your throat tightens up and heart rate slows down in anticipation. you didn't think that figuring out who's your soulmate will happen in the middle of the hallway of your dormitory with your boyfriend right in front of you, but life has its own plans. grasping sleeve of your sweatshirt, you look up at joshua, who's already looking at you with impossible fondness. you are it for me, he mouths and with this rolls up his sleeve, looking down. you don't have to look down at your own wrist, because watching surprise and happiness glow on joshua's face is the answer enough for you. when he looks back at you, there are tears in the corners of his eyes.

'it did bless me again,' he whispers, not looking away from you. his eyes are filled with awe and he brings your faces close, so close that your foreheads are almost touching. 'i would've created another universe for us but i don't have to. you are mine in this one.'

what comes out from your mouth is a mix of hysterical laughter and whimpering sob. joshua smiles and takes your hand in his, showing you both his own name written prettily on your wrist. he strokes it lovingly with his thumb as you stare transfixed, not being able to utter a single word. relief floods your system and you sag against him, smiling at the way he keeps on leaving small kisses anywhere he can reach.

'you are my soulmate,' you let out, still in shock. 'josh, you are my soulmate.'

he chuckles, nodding. 'yours, baby. forever and ever.'

he hugs you tight, looking up to the ceiling for a second, silently thanking whoever is responsible for this to happen. he prayed yesterday, promised that he won't ask for anything else as long as he'll get this wish right. i will never ask for anything else, he thinks, mentally sending this message to the universe. you gave me everything.

a/n: oh the feels :') impossible to picture anyone else for this au, so of course it's joshua. tell me how you liked it! - nini

my other works can be found here

[4sturns]

BREAK THE INTERNET

camboy!chris s. x fem!viewer!reader

genre: smut

synopsis: being chris' top tipper and most loyal viewer, you're gifted with a private one on one cyber call with your favorite camboy.

warnings: cyber sex, sub!chris (reader tells him what to do), whining and whimpering, use of vibrator, praise kink (4sturns knows what praise is ????? woah ...), orgasm denial, use of petnames (mamas, baby, etc.), not proofread!

wc: 1.822

a/n: sat there thinking about how kinky i am compared to others in the fandom and suddenly had the great idea of writing for camboy!chris because god he'd be such a pretty camboy .. thank you for 500 followers too this is for you guys ❤️‍🩹 also brace yourselves because this is probably the longest fic i have ever written in all my years of writing

you're sat at your desk, your laptop propped up at an angle which conceals your face, but shows off your breasts which are clad in a red lacy bra.

there's music playing lowly on a speaker somewhere on the other side of the room, something you put on to calm down your nerves.

you bounce your leg, waiting anxiously as you wait for chris' call notification to pop up on your screen.

you've been a viewer of chris' for a while. he was the first camboy you'd ever encountered and he was certainly your favorite. something about him and how he always gives in to his tippers made you cash in on his streams. he was just so good, so obedient, and so pretty.

unbeknownst to you, you had somehow became his top tipper in the span of a couple months. what you expected to be a cumulative amount of fifty dollars, maybe sixty, turned out to be close to ten times the price you assumed you had tipped him.

even with the initial shock, you still couldn't blame yourself for giving him so much money. he was just so good for you, giving you exactly what you wanted and asked of him every single time.

a sudden and loud tone rings from your laptop speakers making you jump from the unexpected noise. the screen flashes with chris' name and his provocative profile picture, your heart rate picking up at the sight. a shaky hand reaches up to the track pad to accept the call, not before a nervous breath leaves your body.

the call zooms in to show you a full view of chris' camera. his face is out of view, similar to you, but he's sporting a white tank top and plaid pajama pants in comparison to your red bra and black silk shorts.

through your little square screen in the corner, you can visibly see your chest heaving. your mouth feels dry, heart pounding uncontrollably. normally you'd feel fine, but that was when it was chris talking to his entire audience, not just you individually.

"hey mamas," chris greets you, he sounds just as breathless as you. "god, you look so good in that set."

you crack a faint smile although he can't see it. a hand goes up to play with the necklace around your neck, relieving some tension as you work up a response.

"not too bad yourself, chris." you can see him shift around, a muffled moan piercing through your speakers gains your attention.

"already worked up? is it because of my boobs on your screen or because you like my voice a little too much, baby?" you're almost shocked at your own words, you were just shaking a moment ago and now you're taunting the very guy you'd get off to almost nightly for the past three months.

"fuck, if you don't stop teasing me i might just cum in my pants." chris moves his camera back to reveal his face. you're stunned for a second, taking in his beauty. it's not the first time you've seen his face, but you swear he gets prettier every day.

based on chris' chuckle, you're sure he saw the way your chest spiked up with the silent gasp you let out when he showed his face.

"tell me what to do, mamas. you're in control of me tonight." his words are spoken quietly, but god do they do a number on you.

"can you— can you touch yourself, for me?" you stutter slightly. you're so used to giving him commands through his chat that giving him a verbal command one on one makes you lightheaded.

without a word, chris' hand inches towards the bulge in his pants. he starts palming himself through his pants as small whimpers leave his mouth. you're sitting back in your chair, your face from the nose down is now visible on the screen. your eyes are fixed to the screen as your entire body starts to heat up.

"can i take off my shirt? please, ma." he's still palming himself, but he stares right into the camera. you can't bring yourself to speak, so you nod your head, praying he gets the memo despite how little of your face is actually showing.

thankfully he does, his free hand gripping the bottom of his top before swiftly removing the garment. his soft, long hair bounces back into place, covering part of his eyes in a way that makes him look like an angel. a sinful angel.

suddenly, chris stops palming himself, his hand going to dip past the waistband of his pants. he quickly whips out his dick before hissing at the cold air which hits his tip.

you're in awe, no matter how many times you've seen his dick before, it'll never quite compare to how good it looks in this moment. but once the feeling subsides, you quickly remember something.

"i never told you you could take your dick out of your pants, did i?" you're now leaning forward, as if challenging chris through the screen. there's no battle however, as panic quickly flashes through chris' features.

his mouth springs open as floods of apologies and excuses leave his mouth, although you're not quite picking up what he's saying. your eyes are piercing your laptop screen as you notice his tip leaking a clear liquid. you watch as his entire cock twitches when you let out a low chuckle.

"i'm sorry, please, i'm a good boy! i swear i'm a good boy." chris pleads with you, causing a wave of heat to overtake your body. you say nothing as he continues to ramble. but you know you can't keep him waiting, you'd be torturing yourself more than him.

"show me how good you are and stroke yourself for me, hmm?" chris complies almost instantly, his head nodding frantically as he wraps a hand around his hard cock. whimpers and high pitched whines fill up your speakers as you instruct him to stroke himself faster. but just that isn't enough for you.

"can you do something for me, baby?" chris' eyes open, an eager smile crosses his face as he momentarily pauses his movements.

"anything for you, mamas." his hair flops around as he nods his head.

"grab that little black vibrator, the one you know i like." you remember the first time you stumbled onto chris' live broadcast. you remember how tightly he was gripping the base of his cock as he held a vibrator right under his angry, red tip. you remember how loud his whimpers were, how much he was begging for release. the image of his cum painting his stomach white as the buzzing continues in the back is something that will never fail to make you moan.

chris comes back into frame holding the toy, a devious smile makes it way onto your face. it's caught on your camera and you can tell chris knows your intentions aren't pure from the way he visibly gulps. regardless, he sits back down infront of his screen before positioning himself to face you again.

"use it on yourself, the same way you always do." the words leave your mouth sounding more like a command than you'd like, although it really is a command.

chris takes your words seriously as he quickly fumbled with the buttons on the little toy to turn it on. a breathy moan leaves his mouth as he finally lowers it down to circle around his tip. the sight is breathtaking. chris' head tipped back as his hand grips at the base of his cock so tightly you're surprised it's not turning a shade of purple. the vibrator soon finds home right under his tip, buzzing away at his sweet spot.

you bite your bottom lip to conceal your moans, a hand sneakily sliding into your silk bottoms as you feel your soaked folds. your fingers move quickly to collect your arousal before dipping into your throbbing cunt. a whine escapes your lips right as chris lets out a rather loud groan.

you know he's close, but you can't let him go yet. not before you do.

"you're such a good boy for me, so good." you lean back in your chair, propping a leg up on the table to get a better angle, maximizing your own pleasure.

chris' eyes flicker open to take a quick peak at his laptop screen. he nearly cums at the sight. your face is now fully in frame, except it's twisted in pleasure. your fingers moved fast, plunging in and out of your soaked cunt as strings of profanity leave your puffy lips. he thought your voice was pretty, but he never expected the voice to belong to a goddess like you.

"fuck, ma. i'm so close," your eyes open to watch chris' face as he turns the intensity of the vibrator up a level. his eyes are shut tight, but you can still see the tears pricking at his eyes as the pleasure builds up.

"hold it for me, baby. be my good boy and wait for me." an anguished cry leaves chris' throat, though he obeys you and holds himself back from his release.

on your end, you're working hard to reach your own release. you've long discarded your bottoms, having thrown them to the floor somewhere behind you. one hand works diligently to draw circles on your clit, while the other drills into your pussy relentlessly.

"i can't, please i need to come so badly. i've been a good boy, right? please, mamas. i need it." chris is in tears by now, the muscles in his stomach flexing with how much force he has put in so far to control himself for you.

you can feel yourself approaching your own climax, strained moans are pulled from your body as you find the energy in you to speak.

"go ahead, baby. paint your stomach white for me like the good boy you are." through your laptop speakers, you can hear chris' loud pants and whimpers as his orgasm washes over him, a cry of your name leaving his lips in such an erotic moan that you're sent over the edge.

your legs tremble and shake as you let your orgasm rip through your body. your body feels like it's on fire, little surges of electricity rage through your body even after the buzz of your orgasm fades.

you peer over at your laptop screen to see chris has discarded the vibrator, though his hand is still working to give his dick a few final strokes before going limp. his stomach is coated in thick ropes of cum, his skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

"did i do good for you, mamas?" chris asks, his voice barely above a whisper, clearly spent from all his whining.

"you did so good for me, such a good boy. you're my baby boy."

[mutual-obsession]

A Night In.

Male Yandere x You (Gender Neutral). Breaking in, knife mention, stalking, cnc? but also not? 18+ I wrote this very early/late (5am-7am) as I forgot I'm a human that needs sleep. Enjoy ^^ or don't. Up to you.

Your phone vibrates and you feel it though your desk as your phone lights up. 'Still awake?' You smile to yourself and continue to watch your show, rolling your shoulders back as you've been sitting for too long. 'Don't forget to stretch.' You stare at the message till your screen goes dark. You think for a moment then wave it away before stretching your arms up above your head and giving your torso a little twist.

VIbration, light, message: 'You're so cute, doing what I say.''Love the outfit btw. is it for me?' Your whole body freezes and you feel a chill run up your spine, the corner of your lip twitching slightly as your thoughts turn.

You get up and look around. Closing your blinds and curtains then look out into the hall outside your door. It's dark and the only light source other than your bedroom is the tiny night light at the other end where the living room and kitchen meet. You stare into the vale of darkness, as if you could see something then you step back and close your door, locking it.

You return to your desk and tap the phone screen so it lights up, seeing if you missed any new messages. 'Fuck, sweetheart. Getting ready for me? I'm honoured.' You feel your heart rate speed up, like your adrenaline is about to kick in. Unsure what's going to happen, fear, filling your chest. You turn your computer off and grab the knife from the desk before turning the lights off and hopping into bed.

You push yourself into the far corner of it and set the knife just next to you on the nightstand. You keep your phone between your hands, shaking slightly as you open it up to the keypad. Typing in the numbers, another text pops up. 'Can't wait to get my hands on you and ruin you. Don't ignore me now, Angel.'

You hit the call button and hear an all too familiar tune somewhere down the hall. You feel your blood turn ice cold and your breath stop. ;one.' 'two.' 'th-' You jump as something slams into your door

You hear the knob twist "Little Angel" The voice sounds dark and excited Your breath gets heavier and you look around, trying to figure something out. Then you hear something insert itself into the lock and panic sets in more. You quickly get up trying to find something to push in front of the door but you're not quick enough. The door pops open and you slam yourself against it to keep the intruder out. "Awee, Come on, Sweetheart. Let me in. I wont hurt you, I promise. I just want to bring you to divine rapture." The voice sounds so sweet and sincere. "Please. Let me bring you there." You could melt.

You're shaking so much and your throat has locked up entirely. You shiver at the implications and the door closes under the weight of your back against it. Confused your brows knit together but just as you re-shift against it, the door is shoved open and you stumble forward. Quickly turning, your eyes widen and dart around to see if you could make out anything. It was too dark.

You stumble back a bit, trying to breathe slower. Trying to listen. Trying to see movement from shadows. The back of your legs press against your bed frame. It was so quiet other than the blood pounding against your ears. Then you hear it. A chuckle. A soft laugh. "Oh you make this... So fun for me."

The edge of your lips twitch again and land in a weary smile as you let out a laugh of your own. You hear him take a step forward and one of your legs twist and bend back to make it on to your bed and in an instant he's on you. One arm sliding under your leg and the other to you back so he can lay you down properly. You struggle, letting out sounds of panic and excitement as you feel more of his weight press against you. His hands roam over the lingerie you picked out for him He loves the texture and you love his hands ravaging you.

"You're so fucking cute. I love watching you get ready for me nearly every. night. Never knowing when I'll come for you and I. adore. it. You just wait for me. You're so good ~" Your face heats up at the praise and acknowledgement. Your heart still beating out of your chest as you have no idea what he's going to do next. And you love it.

He straddles you and you shift your hips against him to attempt to get him off but you both know you don't mean it. He laughs and reaches over to your night stand, picking up the knife you left. Your breath hitches and you freeze. He hums and looks down at you, admiring the view. "This for me? Do I get to unwrap my gift? Hmm... Let me guess... It's an Angel who was brought down to earth for me to play with. Am I right~?"

You brain feels hazy and you know the exact look you give him. He lets out a groan and laughs. tilting his head back to try and keep his control. He loves this look. When he looks back at you, he looks as if he's about to snap. You want it 'lose control.' He sits and looks at you for a bit longer, his own brain turning before he discards the knife. Then places his hands over your chest, running down it again before gripping the fabric and pulling it apart. ripping the lingerie off your body. "Oops." His voice was still, monotone as he doesn't feel bad. He'll help you get new things later, after all. His touch is more impatient, more quick, like he needs you now. You run your hands over his, urging him forward.

"Come apart with me." You breathily manage to whimper out. He pauses briefly, looking at bit surprised but delighted. His smile taking up more grounds on his face. He leans down so his mouth is next to your ear, hot breath sending you shaking but one of his hands roots itself into your hair to keep you from inching away. He chuckles and whispers "Trust me. I already am."

[starly-amazing]

A Star From the Multiverse - Ch 9 is OUT!

Cover art by @wyvern-witch as a donation commission for Palestine. Commission them here!

Fic summary: After FINALLY beating the King after thousands of tries, Siffrin is STILL sent back to Dormont. They. Just. Can't. Do. It. Anymore. They drag themself through the day and to the Favor Tree in the dead of night, begging, wishing for help...and they get it in the form of a strange creature with talons and feathers and fangs.

Memory of Stars Chapter summary: Loop lets their walls down just a bit and takes Siffrin stargazing. Nothing goes wrong in any way shape or form!

Rating: Mature | Graphic depictions of violence & all the canon-typical warnings.

[Read on Ao3]

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"Stargaze!??!" Siffrin nearly throws himself off the branch to lean closer. "You know about the stars!?"

"I—wh—yes? Who doesn't? They're right up there?"

"Nobody does! Everyone just thinks they're boring dots in the sky whenever I try to tell them about it they think I'm lying I've forgotten so much too just like I forget everything I know I used to know more but I lost it all too when the... when the... the..."

"..."

"...Stardust?"

"Wha..? What were we talking about?" They blink a few times.

"...the stars? You—"

"Stars!? You know about stars!?" His heart skips a beat.

"I—wh—yes? I just sai—" They stare at him for a moment. "Never mind. Yes, I do know about stars. I was an astronom—" Their jaws snap shut. They lower their gaze and mumble to themself for a long moment, glancing between their hands while flexing their fingers. "Hmm... I suppose it's fine to share this." They shrug and sigh. "Yes, I was an astronomer, so it was kind of my job to know about stars."

"Your job... your job?" There’s no way. There's no way! "So you know a lot about them!?"

Loop tilts their head, ears flattened. "I'd say my knowledge is above average, yes."

His breath skips. "Please tell me please please I need to know please! Nobody cares anymore I'm not lying I'm not making this up Odile told me to stop lying to Bonnie when I tried telling them but I wasn't and I know they're important but why can't I remember them!?"

He pauses, panting, shaking.

Loop's whole body is tense as they stare. They grip their branch with both hands.

"Please," they whine.

Loop inhales deeply. "Okay."

"Okay!?" His breath catches in his throat.

Loop throws their bubbly persona back on. "Sure, stardust! I suppose it's fine if I talk about this. It's just general information, after all, and I care about you so much, my precious little cinnamon roll," they wink, "I can probably fudge the rules just a little bit more. So! What would you like to know?"

"Everything!!!"

They flinch. "That's gonna take a while!" They gaze up into the canopy at the thousands of little pinpricks of light that filter through. "How about you come back when it's dark and we can talk then? I need some time to er... create my syllabus for our little impromptu lesson, anyway~!"

"But I want—no it's okay, that's fine." It's fine! A syllabus is good! They can prepare!

"You'll be back in no time," they hum. "Go have some fun with your friends and get some delicious din din!"

"Okay, see you soon. Loop."

He leaves, heart thundering in his chest.

>>>

The sun has just barely fallen below the horizon when Siffrin leaves the Clocktower. His allies all seemed disappointed they couldn't meet his mysterious 'friend', but they let them go without too much of a fuss.

When they arrive, he doesn't see Loop in their usual spot and nearly jumps out of his skin when they pop their head out of the bushes right beside him.

"Blinding stars, Loop, you nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Whoopsies! I guess that wouldn't be too bad, though, since you'd just loop anyway." They retreat back into the undergrowth and motion Siffrin to follow them with their tail waving above it all.

He pushes in after them and follows closely, dodging recoiling branches with some effort. Loop seems to navigate with much more ease, other than the occasional snag on their wings.

They stumble with a small yelp and shake their front paw. Ok, maybe not much more ease.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine, fine!" They shake their paw. "Just a scratch, don't worry your pretty little head about it~!"

They push on before Siffrin can respond, and he can't help but notice they now have a small limp.

"How far are we going?"

"Not far," they say, pausing with no weight on their hand. "There's a little hill nearby that has a clear view and can't be seen from town."

As if on cue, the trees thin and open up to a grassy field somewhat similar to the one he wakes up in at the start of every loop. The grass is shorter, fresher, and less prickly-looking than what he's used to.

Loop peeks out from the treeline, sniffing the air and vibrating the fluffy feathers on their head. They take a step forward, seemingly satisfied, and shake their head until the feathers are tucked neatly away.

Together, they pad out to the top of the small hill and sit down.

It's still light out and there aren't many stars to see yet. Siffrin eyes Loop messing with their paw, picking out bits of debris from it.

“Uhh, Loop?”

They flinch and cover their hand. “Yes, stardust?”

Voice low, they ask, "Do you want me to heal that?" They lean over to get a better look.

"You—you can do that?" They curl their talons and pull them toward their chest.

They nod. "Learned it in the loops."

They squint at him and turn away. "It's fine."

"Are you sure?" Siffrin tilts his head. "It's no problem, really."

Loop's fingers twitch. They stare at their hand for a moment. Then, with a long, drawn-out sigh, they speak. "Fiiiine if you insist, stardust then I guess I can let you heal me."

Siffrin's lips twitch upward, but they hide it with a cough. He holds out his hand, and with some hesitation, Loop reaches out and places their hand in it.

They both flinch. Loop looks away, cheek feathers puffed.

It's warm. Rough. An array of what look like scars break up the even pattern of scutes that line their leg.

Taking it gently in both hands, they turn it over. The palm is covered in a thick pad, similar to a cat's but not quite as pronounced. It's rough and callused from walking on bare ground; a few still look somewhat raw and fresh, even.

There's something strange about the wound. The trickle of blood that leaks out seems...off. Like the shade is a little to the left, but in the dying light, it's hard to get a better look. Not that Loop would appreciate him scrutinizing their hand for longer than necessary, anyway.

As if they heard him, Loop huffs and flexes their claws. "Having fun ogling my toesie woesies, stardust?"

"Ah! Uh, sorry!" They sputter. Using the back of his glove, he gently wipes away the remaining dirt and debris before breathing a bit of healing Craft into the sore. Loop's hand twitches as the wound stitches itself back together with an uneven scar.

"Huh." They flex their digits. "That feels different."

"Different? Does it still hurt?"

"Huh? Oh! No. It doesn’t hurt anymore. I meant different as in—never mind. Thank you, I owe you my life, am forever in your debt, et cetera et cetera."

"Don't mention it," he snorts.

Something nags at the back of his mind. He glances at Loop's other paw.

They have to ask.

"Hey, Loop, can I see your other hand?"

They gasp and put their healed paw to their chest. "My, my, can't get enough of me? If you wanted to hold hands, you don't have to be so secretive."

Siffrin huffs. "So is that a yes or a no?"

Loop pauses. "Fine, if you must." With a sigh and dramatic flourish, they extend their other hand out, folding the freshly-healed one under their chest.

Siffrin squints and turns it over, only to see a similar sight of calluses and old blisters. He heals them, too, watching them harden into something sturdier.

They look at Loop. They're looking away, scar facing him.

"Loop?"

"Thank you, stardust," they pull their hand away and fold it under them. "It's getting pretty dark out now. Maybe we should do what we actually came here to do!" They point their head toward the heavens.

Siffrin stares at them for a moment longer before following their gaze up into the night sky. A little bit of daylight hangs at the horizon, but the stars are rapidly blinking into view as it fades.

A cold, twisting sense of longing churns in his chest as they stare at the sky. He knew. He knew. They knew so much more about it, but it's behind that same wall that shrouds their memories of home. The wall that prickles and cuts into him if he tries too hard to remember. The wall he forgot that he even forgot until the loops. The wall that teases him with morsels when he's not looking, only to take them away forever if he tries to focus.

...Will this hurt?

Loop shifts their body until all their limbs are folded under them. They curl their tail around and shift themself until they look like a giant winged cat loafing in a sunbeam. Siffrin shifts around as well until he finds a soft patch of grass with no rocks poking at him.

Loop hums. "Well, I suppose we can begin by you telling me what you know already. I'd hate to insult your knowledge by assuming you don't know the most basic things, but also you might not know the most basic things, so..."

"Oh," they murmur, grabbing a piece of grass and rolling it in their fingers. "Well, I know stuff like, the sun is a star and stars are all really big balls of fire and some stars are actually planets and people make pictures called constellations and used to navigate by them and telescopes, orreries, star charts... and uh..." He points to a brighter light. "That's the planet Venus, and uhm..." he keeps looking, thinking. The prickling fog already starts digging into the corner of his mind, so he closes his eye and shakes his head.

"That's all I remember."

Loop hums. "Okay, so we're definitely starting from the basics."

He grumbles. "I know I knew more than that. I could read star charts, I know it. I could use telescopes and orreries and whatever else there is."

"Well, maybe this will jog your memory some."

"I wish." They pull up a clump of grass.

Loop watches them rip it up and toss it before clearing their throat. "Anyway, you're right that not every light in the sky is a star. Some are planets, or comets, or moons, and some are entire galaxies that are so far away they're nothing more than a tiny dot to our eyes."

"Galaxies?" That one doesn’t sound familiar.

"Collections of hundreds of billions of stars and planets and other celestial bodies." They gesture at the thick band of stars that arcs across the sky. "We're in the Milky Way, which is a spiral galaxy and—oh, I wish I brought a pencil and paper. Ahh, well, not like I can draw to save my life anyway."

Siffrin can already feel his heart thundering in his chest. He leans closer to loop with stars in his eyes.

"I think..." he pauses and squeezes his eye shut. "That sounds familiar. Please keep going!"

Loop snorts and lets their expression relax. "Okay, well..."

Siffrin is enraptured by the tales Loop weaves of the sky above them. Tales of stars and planets and black holes and quasars, nebulae, dark matter, and everything else. He can't move, he can barely breathe as he soaks in every possible little detail that comes out of Loop's mouth. Some of it tickles the hidden part of his mind, behind the thorny wall, overwriting what was lost and keeping it fresh and close to him. Some of it is all too new; it's as if he's a small child again, sitting around a bonfire with their friends as their... their...

...

He blinks, shakes his head, and has to ask Loop to repeat a whole chunk of what they just said.

Loop looks… so different when talking. Their voice is lighter, smoother, less guarded and calculated, and they frequently have to pause for a breath after speaking for too long without stopping. It makes Siffrin feel winded just watching them. They can't help but smile—not just at getting back such an important part of him he thought was lost forever, but seeing a fresh, new side of Loop. Seeing them talk a mile a minute, waving their hands around, and looking up to the sky with such wonder just fills him with a sense of peace.

It won't last.

He knows that. It digs at the back of his mind. But just for that time, he manages to shove it down.

After talking for a while, Loop pauses and stretches out. They flap their wings a few times and reach out as far as they can with their front legs, spreading their toes out far. They let their wings fall more relaxed to their sides and rest their limbs in the grass in front of them.

Siffrin follows suit, not realizing how stiff he's grown from sitting unmoving in the dirt for however long they've been there.

Loop stretches again, roll to their side and—

"Oof!" Siffrin grunts as their head lands right in their lap. He flinches and freezes. "Loop!?"

"Wow, you are really bony," they huff. They shift around a bit until their good eye is pointed upward and the top of their head is pressed to his gut. Siffrin holds their arms stiffly away from them the entire time. He can't move.

"Ah," Their expression stiffens when they catch sight of his face. "Was that too much?" They keep their eye locked onto him.

"N-no, it was just sudden!" And warm! And surprisingly light. "U-um." He slowly places a hand on their cheek, feeling just a bit of squish as he presses down on their feathers. Loop makes a small noise but doesn't say a word. They look away. "Why?"

"You look like you needed it," they shrug. "Consider this some good ol' rukemi touch therapy."

"Touch therapy?"

"Well, I’m already helping you with the loops and the stars, so I thought I might help with that as well."

"Thanks???" They're definitely touch-starved, but wow!

"You're quite welcome~! Just keep your hands off my plumes."

"Your... plumes?"

"The long feathers on my head. They're sensitive."

"O-okay."

They're so soft. He wants to... to...

He swallows hard. "So I can... I can p—I can p-p-p..."

"Yes, yes you may pet me if you want, I guueeesssss," they huff. "So demanding~!"

"You're the one—agh—never mind." He can guess what kind of game Loop's playing.

Slowly, carefully, they sink their fingers into Loop's feathers until they touch skin. They both flinch.

So warm. Warmer than a human, it seems, though what would they know about touching another human?

He curls his fingers slowly. He wants to take his gloves off and feel just how soft they are, but that seems like too much! They're surprised he hasn't combusted from this level of touch; if he held Mirabelle's head like that or, stars, Isabeau held them like that, he'd loop on contact. With Loop, it's different. Not quite as overwhelming as he'd expect. Like petting a giant chicken.

He starts scratching a little more and cautiously moves his hand around their face, down their jaw, along their neck. Loop closes their eye and sighs, letting their legs relax and slide out a bit more. They flex one paw and relax, flex and relax.

Siffrin works his way up their head until he reaches their ear, only to find out it's not really an ear at all, just a collection of feathers in the shape of one. They slide their fingers around it until they feel a gap in front of them. He brushes his thumb across it, and out of nowhere, Loop yawns wide, flashing their sharp teeth before shaking their head and pulling back.

"Excuse me! Don't go shoving your fingers into my ear," they glare, folding their feathers down.

"S-sorry!" He pulls his hand away. "Um... so... your ear is just..."

"Yes, it's just a hole in my head."

"Okay." Weird.

"What? Disappointed?"

"No! Just uh... I don't know." What is Loop, really?

The rukemi snorts and rolls their head in his lap. "Oh, stardust, you are too much sometimes."

He frowns. "What'd I doooo?"

They glance at him and snort. "Tee hee~!"

Loop's definitely too much, sometimes too.

"I know I'm too much, aren't I~! That's what makes me so great~!"

Siffrin sighs and shakes their head, smiling lightly.

"Also, take your hat off. I can't see the stars."

"O-oh." He touches the brim and pulls it down further. They don't want to be exposed, but it's not like they can hide anything when Loop's looking up at them like that. He clenches his fist and peels the hat off. The cool night air is refreshing, and he shakes the heat from his head as he sets his hat on the grass.

Cautiously, he places a hand back on Loop's jaw, far away from their ear and plumes. Loop flexes and relaxes their hands again and goes silent.

"So," Siffrin begins after a minute, voice barely a whisper. He shifts his hips and stretches his back. Their fingers work themselves lower and lower on Loop's jaw and down their neck until...

They feel something.

A vibration, soft and gentle.

Coming from Loop's throat.

He stops, twitching slightly. He closes his eye, listening carefully.

He can hear it too, now.

No.

It can't be...

"Loop..." They lean over, looking them in the eye.

"No." They look away.

"Are you ... purring???"

"Do I LOOK like a cat?" Their cheek feathers puff out.

"You sure sound like one." Siffrin doesn't fight the smug grin that grows on their face.

"And YOU sound like you know what you're talking about, but sounds can be deceiving," they quip.

His smirk gets bigger.

"Don't look at me like that."

"Like what?" And bigger.

"Like, ughhhh! Do you want to know more about stars or not?"

"I do!" his heart skips a beat. He clenches his fingers around Loop's cheek feathers.

"Good~! Now, where were we?"

They pick up where they left off, and soon Siffrin's nerves ease. He continues petting Loop for a while before he has to shift around and dig his fingers into his back, massaging down his spine to his hips.

After a moment, Loop sits up and scoots around him. His heart spikes again when Loop's wing folds over his knees and shoulder presses to his back.

He stares at Loop, who simply keeps talking, staring up at the sky the whole time.

So warm.

Their breath is slow and heavy against him. He's still so tense, so unsure.

But slowly, slowly, they breathe and let themself relax. Bit by bit, they lean further and further against them, sinking into their soft feathers. He bites back a sigh as the tension eases in their back and slowly radiates through the rest of their body. Their breathing slows, their fists unclench, and they lean their head against Loop's shoulder. He closes his eye and feels Loop's voice reverberate through his whole body.

It's nice.

He can let himself have this one indulgence.

"So what exactly was your job?" he mumbles after a while. "Like, did you just spend all day looking at the stars until you find something interesting?"

"Nah, we have computers do that part. No, it was much more specific than that." Loop mulls over their question, rocking their head side to side. Finally, they sigh. "...I was on a team tasked with finding life on other planets."

"What!?" Siffrin jumps, nearly jabbing their knee with the claws on Loop's wing. He spins around to face them, breathing fast. "There's life on other planets!? For real? Did—did you—" Wait. They tilt their head. "Is that where you're from? Another planet?"

Loop looks at them for a moment, then back to the sky.

"Anyway, we've found two, so far, and a few speculated to have all the building blocks needed to form life, if they haven't already. Early life, it seems, in those two, they're still pretty young. They're both a couple hundred thousand light years away, so we haven't been able to get any clear physical images of them with our level of technology yet, but the readouts show atmospheric levels very similar to what Earth's meso-proterozoic era was estimated to have."

"Meso-what?"

"Oh, stars, do I have to give a paleontology lesson too?"

"Oh, wait. Like, dinosaurs?"

"Waaaay before them." They stretch their leg out as if pushing something away. "Probably very early multicellular life. Think worms, and sponges, and algae. And—" they cringe. "Oh geez, fossil reconstructions probably look terrible here."

"Huh?"

They shudder. "Paleontology is probably a pretty fresh field of study here, so any reconstructions are likely horrifically inaccurate."

Siffrin tilts their head.

"Have you been to a museum that has fossils?"

"Once, a while ago."

"I can guarantee, if there were any attempted reconstructions, they look nothing like how these animals actually were."

"Oh."

"You probably learned some pretty wrong things about astronomy, too. So maybe after a few lessons with me, you'd be ready to go out in the world and correct all those awful inaccuracies!" They sputter. "A-actually, don't do that, just keep this all between you and me. Okay?"

Siffrin squints. "So you really are from the future?"

They pause. "Ah. No. It's... No."

"Huh?"

"Anyway!" They clap their hands together. "What else would you like to know?"

Siffrin stares at Loop for a long while, but the rukemi simply stares back, smiling with their single eye curved upward. Their jaws are so close to his face, and he can feel their hot breath on his skin. He sighs. "Can you tell me about constellations?"

"I—" they gaze back into the night. "No. This is an entirely unfamiliar sky."

"What?"

"I don't recognize any of these stars," they murmur. "It looks nothing like the sky back home."

"Oh." They frown and lean back against them. Loop lets out a long sigh.

"Anyway! What else would you like to know?"

Siffrin stares up at the sky; the trillions of twinkling lights staring back at him seem just a little bit closer.

He hums and closes his eye.

"There's a lot I'd like to know," he breathes. "But..."

"Need some time to process all this, hmm?"

"Yeah."

This is nice.

The night chill starts to nip at his knees, so he pulls his cloak down further. A shudder runs down Loop's body as he does it, and their feathers puff up slightly.

So fluffy, so puffy.

They turn to Loop and gaze into their face; they look back, tilting their head the same way and time Siffrin does. Their darkless feathers almost glow in the rising moonlight.

The loops have been unforgiving, still, but at least with Loop here, they finally have a few moments of respite here and there. They're getting back what they've lost. He's getting to know his allies all over again; maybe even better now than at the start of the loops. The House has changed… for better or for worse; snack times are nice, and even though the sadnesses are all over now, he feels himself getting strong enough to defeat most of them with ease.

Maybe eternity with Loop won't be so bad.

He looks away. They watch him for a moment, then sigh.

"You're going to get through this, stardust. We aren't gonna be stuck here forever. That's not how these things work." They cough. "Er—well, I don't really know how these things work but—ergh, you know what I mean."

"I guess." They grab their shoulder and hold themself close.

"Hmm." Loop shifts and stretches their neck. "What do you plan on doing after the loops?"

"What?"

"You have to have some sort of plan for what you want to do after saving an entire country."

He digs his fingers deeper into his arm.

Nothing. Nothing. There is no plan. They're going to be—Everyone will—

Something grips his throat from the inside.

"What will you do after?" His voice wavers.

Loop's silent for a moment. "I suppose I'll go back to how I was before." Their voice is low, resigned.

"How you were—" A chill flashes through him. Like he's being frozen by the King. He whips around to face them. "You'll leave."

Loop folds their ears down and looks away. "Stardust, I thought this was appa—"

Siffrin turns even more, now upright on his knees. "You'll leave! You'll leave me, too? You're just going to leave!?"

They fold their legs back under them. "I-I told you I'm not even supposed to be around yo—"

"I don't care about that!" He shifts forward, grabbing the feathers on Loop's shoulders. "I won't tell anyone about you! We can... I don't know!"

Loop flinches and goes rigid, their tail starts to rapidly twitch. "Stardust, there's nothing—"

The tightness in his throat worms its way out through his chest, down to his gut. "No, no, no! We can keep traveling together you can't leave you're the only one who I can talk to about this!"

"I'm not, though," their voice wavers. "Your pa—"

"I can't tell them! I know I'm selfish and greedy and awful and disgusting but I'm going to lose them and I don't want to lose you too!"

They shrink down more. "Stardust, I don't really know you."

"But you do! You still remember things! You remember to call me stardust! And that you want to help me! And to meet me at the Favor Tree and a lot about the loops and the King and you remember you care about me! Right? That's what you said!"

"I-I did but—" They rake their claws through the earth. "I don't remember anything else."

Tears prick at the corner of his eye but don't fall. "Then I'll tell you! Every time we meet! I'll tell you everything you need to know! That's what I've been doing already! I'll tell you as many times as I need to so if this is ever over you'll remember for real!"

As Siffrin pleads, Loop keeps pulling back, more and more. Their body tenses, and their wings fold tightly against them. They grip the ground, claws digging deep into the dirt.

"Please, stop." A low rumble emanates from deep within their chest.

"No, Loop, please, please don't leave, please you're my f—"

Loop's ears flutter, eye narrows, and they snap their jaws with a hiss. "I'm your what? Your friend? Your family? Someone who can just seamlessly blend in with you when you traipse around other humans?"

A frozen fist crashes right through Siffrin's chest. "But... you said we were friends."

Loop's tail flips up and slams on the ground with an audible thud. "Did I? Okay! Sure! We're friends! I'll be your friend! I'll just keep living out in the woods, watching you go have fun in civilization and hope maybe you'll toss some crumbs my way once in a while! That sounds fun, yes! Sitting out on the sidelines while you get to move on with your life! While you get to go home, and I get to sit in the mud waiting to get another infection that finally kills me. Wondering why I can't go home or if it's even fucking there anymore!"

"While I get to—" Siffrin prickles. Something white-hot bubbles up within him, forcing its way past the chill that had its hold on him; he clenches his jaw so hard his teeth groan painfully. "I can't go home either!"

Their expression shifts in a blink. "What?"

"My home!" He snaps. "It's gone! Wiped completely off the map! At least you remember yours! I don't! I don't even know how old I was when it happened or what it was like or anything about my family or my culture or my language! It's all just gone!"

"Wiped... off the map... like an ex-explosion?" Their feathers stand on end, and they fold their legs closer to their body, claws ripping at a root.

"Just disappeared! Vanished! And everyone forgot everything about it! Including me!"

"Oh."

"That's why I can't remember the stars! I learned it all there and that was taken from me too!" He's yelling, louder and louder. "I don't have anything! I don't have anyone or anywhere to go after this!"

"But your friends—"

"They're not my friends!" he cries. "They don't care enough about me to want to call me that, to want to stay with me! They'll leave me too!"

"I-I'm not sure that's true." Loop's voice is so small.

"It is! Odile said we're just allies! They all talk about going their separate ways when all this is over! And they will, because this journey meant less to them than it did to me!"

He

feels

a

tug—

"Ugh!" He screams into his hands and stands up, snatching his hat and forcing it back on his head.

"Wait, stardust."

"Just forget it, I'm going back."

They don't try to stop him.

>>>

The Clocktower is dark when Siffrin arrives, save for a small, crafted light glowing in the dining area.

He swallows the ever-growing knot in his throat and bubbling dread in his gut, then slips in quietly. Isabeau is settled at the table, fixing a tear on one of Bonnie's shirts. He jumps when the door latches, but a bright smile rises on his face when he sees them.

"Sif!" Isabeau whisper-yells. "You're back! I was starting to get worried." He quickly sews in a few more stitches and ties it off before packing everything away.

"I'm fine." He watches as Isabeau carefully puts everything in an orderly fashion. They clench their fist and breathe. "You waited for me? How long was I gone?"

"A couple hours. It's pretty late. The others just went to bed. I'm guessing you had fun catching up with your friend?"

"Something like that."

Stupid. Stupid. Why did you say all that?

"Huh?" Isabeau tilts his head, studying them.

"They're just leaving tomorrow, is all." They smile.

Why did you do that?

"Aw, you won't be able to see them after we beat the King?"

Ha.

They shake their head. "It's fine, though, we talked a lot tonight."

And then you had to go fucking blind it up by acting like some sort of possessive, desperate creep.

"That's good, at least!" He grins. "Still, I'm sorry you won't have more time with them. I know it's hard to say goodbye sometimes."

"Yeah."

They stare at the floor for a moment before slowly looking up at Isabeau. He smiles, soft and warm, but he seems tense, gripping his hand tightly and rubbing circles on the back with his thumb.

Neither speaks. Everything is so quiet that his own breathing is almost deafening.

It's fine. It's whatever! They're gonna forget this too, and you can pretend it never happened!

They stretch out with an exaggerated, forced yawn.

Unless you were that much of a blinding ass that it's permanently seared into their memory.

"Heh, ready for bed?" Isabeau hums.

"Mhm," they nod, blinking slowly. They're not tired at all.

"Okay," he hums. "Hey, Sif, before we head up, can I tell you something really quick?"

"Hm?" Is it the same thing from every other night or something new?

Doesn't matter, it's not like he'll say whatever it is.

Loop. Why did they..? Ughh...

He keeps his eye focused on Isabeau, though his mind keeps trying to wander.

"Okay, um," he begins, cheeks darkening. "I just wanted to tell you that I, uhm... really liked traveling with you and... and..." He looks away, scratching the back of his head. "And that's it. It was fun. Yep!"

That's it? That's all he wanted to tell them?

They feel...

"Oh."

"Oh? You didn't..?" His expression falls. "Never mind."

"No, no, I did!" He holds his hands up. "This journey... meant a lot... to me. I just expected..."

Isabeau shrinks in on himself. "More?" he coughs. He can't make eye contact. "Well, there was something else I wanted to say, but I'll tell you tomorrow, after we beat the King. Wouldn't want to distract you."

Ah, the usual, then.

"Is that okay?" He leans forward, head tilted.

They nod. Maybe one day they can pry it out of him, but not today.

Too blinding dead inside.

And... ugh!

Why did you flip out at them like that? They didn't know! But ugh. They should have! Why can't they remember? Why can't you remember?

...

They can't go home either.

...

"Okay!" His radiant smile is back, and even after all this time, Siffrin feels a little bit of ease flow through him.

It's fine. It's fine! Maybe they'll change their mind!

Isabeau gets out of his seat and walks up to them. "Ready for bed? Big day tomorrow haha." His cheeks are still flushed.

"Yeah," they nod. "Lemme just—" They point to the bathroom.

"Okay, I'll warm the bed for you hahahhh."

He snorts, and they part ways.

Why did you do that?

He locks himself in the bathroom and tries not to scream.

Why did you do that?

They splash cold water on their face and slap their cheeks until it hurts.

Why did you do that?

They find their mildewy towel and scream into it.

Why did you do that!?

They hold it to their face, breathing in the stink, getting hardly any fresh air.

Why did you do that!?

They kick the wall, forgetting they had just taken their shoes off. They bite their lip hard enough to make a mark and resist the urge to rip the sink off its pedestal and throw it out the window.

He sighs and gazes out into the night toward the field they were in, wondering if Loop was still there, wondering where they sleep at night, wondering why they can't go home either. Tears threaten to fall again, and he chokes up.

Why did you... do that..?

When he sneaks into the sleeping quarters, Isabeau is already out like a light.

They slip in beside him and shuffle under the blankets.

He settles in for a long, sleepless night.

Loop.

>>>

The next morning, Siffrin can't bring themself to start any new conversations, and they slip back into a semi-script as their party ascends the House. They try and fail not to think about their horrific blunder from the night before.

A stupid sadness is waiting near the entrance this time. They nod along as their party reassures Mirabelle, and he manages to take out half its health with one swipe.

He is getting stronger.

He can't bring himself to feel excited; it's not like it matters unless he can somehow get strong enough to kill the King in one hit.

But they don't even let themself dream about that.

Wouldn't it be nice, though?

>>>

They remember the key in the Head Housemaiden's desk drawer and slot it into the Library's lock.

The library... something about the back wall.

Oh!

The secret library!

The switch!

They shove their way inside and beeline it to the ancient bricks.

Don't get your hopes up. Don't get your hopes up. It's just boring papers.

But still...

They run their fingers across the wall until they feel a brick shift slightly.

He gasps.

Is this it?

Deep breath, in, and out.

They press it in.

It scrapes along the other bricks and...

There's a series of muffled clicks, and suddenly the wall slides away to reveal a narrow passage.

...

He can't breathe.

THERE REALLY WAS A SECRET LIBRARY?

WHAT?!?

"What the gems—?!"

"SECRET PASSAGE!!!" Bonnie screeches.

Mirabelle looks between them and the opening rapidly. "But how— How did you—"

"I-I just touched it and it opened," he chuckles and rubs the back of his neck.

Mirabelle steps forward and peers at the mechanism poking out at the top. "That's so weird?! Was it here all this time?!?"

If it was, then... then...

They don't want to think about it! They will not think about it!

He steels himself and enters.

Another sadness slithers around. They bite back a hiss and sneak past when it has its back turned.

That's future Siffrin's problem.

They push their way through the ancient, heavy door and...

Sweet stars, it really is a secret library.

Stars, stars, blind it all.

No, stop thinking about it and look!

"Wow, there's so much here!" Mirabelle gasps.

"Fascinating," Odile muses. Some papers catch her eye, and she drifts over to a pile on the table.

Siffrin's heart hammers against his chest.

Don't get your hopes up.

Don't get your hopes up.

Do NOT get your hopes up.

They walk stiffly to the first shelf.

He's already sweaty, clammy, gross—the sensation of angry bees buzz in his chest.

They swallow the tightness in their throat.

Okay, okay, just start looking.

Okay, okay, okay, nothing yet. Nothing useful...oh hey, there is an ancient book on newts.

...

Nothing there. Just a bunch of books on colors. Whatever those are.

Next shelf.

Isabeau seems to notice his tension, but Siffrin gives him the widest smile they can and turns away before he can say anything.

There's another headache book.

He starts to gravitate toward it.

No—no time. Don't get distracted.

Check everything. Leave no book glossed over.

Last shelf.

Last shelf. Please.

Please, something.

He runs his finger along the spine of every book to keep himself from rushing ahead and skipping something in his haste.

"Siffrin?" Mirabelle asks. "Are you looking for something in particular?"

No. No. No. Still no.

"Huh? Oh." Maybe another set of eyes would be helpful. "Do you think there's something on Crafted shields?"

Isabeau peers at the shelf. "Like, shields in battle? To protect ourselves?" He hums, scratching at his chin. "It would be useful, wouldn't it... We have skills to boost our defense, but a shield would be cool."

Mirabelle hums, threading her fingers together. "I-I was thinking about learning! And I feel like I'm close to getting it!!! But... I'm not there yet. Sorry."

Bonnie squeezes past them and kneels over the bottom. "This book here is just called 'Shields', and it's super dusty." They pull out a book near the bottom of the final shelf.

What?

"Dusty books are good, right?" They smile and hold it out to them.

Siffrin nearly rips the book from Bonnie's hands and throws it open.

This... this could be.

"Siffrin?"

"Whoa, Sif, are you okay? You're shaking."

He hands the book to Mirabelle without a word.

He can't look. He stares at the empty space in the bookshelf instead.

Mirabelle watches him for a moment, they all do, before she turns to the book and starts thumbing through the pages.

Don't get your hopes up.

Don't get your hopes up.

Don't get your hopes up.

She stops about a quarter of the way through the book. Siffrin forces his head to turn and catches a glance at the page. It's dense and full of confusing diagrams.

Mirabelle taps the side of the book rhythmically. "Well, that's not how it works." She chews on her lip. "But... . . ."

Don't. Get. Your. Hopes. Up.

He forces his expression into mild curiosity.

He wants to throw up.

"Wait... Wait a second." Mirabelle gasps. It's as if a switch goes off in her mind. Her expression brightens, and she buries her nose back into the pages.

A few more seconds of mumbling and Siffrin clenching and unclenching his fists, and—

"THAT'S ALL?!?!?"

He nearly jumps out of his skin, causing Isabeau to jump too and reach out to them like they're about to keel over.

"THAT'S HOW YOU DO IT?!??!"

Don't get your hopes up don't get your hopes up dont'getyourhopesupdontdontdont.

"Ah." Odile wanders over from the papers she was snooping in.

"Oh, this sounds fun." Isabeau leans over to check the book, takes one look at the text, cringes, and leans back.

Mirabelle chews on her knuckle. "So then, if I do this, and keep this in mind, and don't forget about this..."

She mumbles under her breath for a long time...

"Okay, so..." She slams the book shut and snaps her head toward them. He jumps again. "Siffrin, do NOT move. I'm about to try a highly volatile Craft Skill on you that I've never tried before."

He freezes. His lungs feel like they're being squeezed.

Just breathe. In, and out.

Mirabelle holds her hands out and murmurs a few words. There's a sound of sizzling wind chimes that seems to originate from within Siffrin's own body.

He feels warm all of a sudden, like a thick blanket wrapped itself around him.

He pries his eye open right as Bonnie throws a punch in his stomach.

Owwie. He flinches. Wait.

"Boniface."

Mirabelle leans closer. "Siffrin, did you feel something...?"

He puts his hand on his stomach.

They didn't feel a thing.

They

Did

Not

Feel

A

Thing.

...

He shakes his head.

He keeps shaking it, more and more.

He didn't feel it. It didn't hurt. He didn't feel it it didn't hurt he didn't feel it he did not feel a thing!!!

A laugh bubbles up from within his chest, and soon he's reduced to a cackling mess leaning up against the ancient books.

He doesn't even care that his allies are all staring at him as tears and snot stream down his face.

They feel like their chest should hurt by now from how violently they're laughing, but it feels fine!

It doesn't hurt!

Don't get your hopes up!

"Uh, Sif, Buddy," Isabeau says when he slides to the floor, still laughing. "You uh—"

"Yeah, haha? Isa?" They wipe all the fluids from their face in one long motion.

"Nothing, glad you're happy it works!"

"That wasn't a side effect of the craft, was it?" Mirabelle hugs the book to her chest.

"No! Haha, no, it's fine! It's fine. It just I uh... thought of a really bad joke... about shields!"

"Really?" Odile raises an eyebrow. "Gems, alive Siffrin."

"Boo," Bonnie crosses their arms.

"So, what was it?" Isabeau asks tentatively.

"Forgot!" They're not even going to bother trying to salvage that.

They have a shield skill!

They can survive the King now!

Maybe!

Don't get your hopes up!

Trembling, they pull themself back upright, wiping the remaining snot from their nose. The shield Craft has since worn off, and he can feel a twinge of tightness in his chest as he gets the remaining giggles out of his system.

They're gonna beat the King again and Mirabelle's gonna deal the final blow and they're going to break the loops and then everyone...

Loop...

Siffrin shakes his head and violently blinks away the thoughts. He takes one step toward the door and stops. They're gonna have to come back there. It's going to take so long every time because they're not gonna beat the King this loop or next loop or the next loop!

...

Maybe there's another way for Mirabelle to learn quicker.

He turns to her. "So, Mira. What made it click?"

"Huh?"

"This book? What about it made you figure it out when you couldn't before?"

"Oh!" she perks up. "That's easy! It's all about—" Mirabelle suddenly bombards him with technical terms!!! He doesn't follow a single word but smiles and nods along either way.

>>>

" —and that's how you do it!!!"

"I did not understand even a little bit of this." Odile rubs her temples.

Isabeau crosses his arms and looks into the distance. "Hm, I couldn't craft a skill like that myself, but..." He squints as he searches for his next words. He lights up with a small gasp. "But it's just about using the CARROT method, right?"

Odile takes the book and gives it a cursory glance. "Is it?" She flips back a page. "I guess that makes some sort of sense..."

Mirabelle flips back a page and shows Odile. "It is! They actually mention it in here, too!"

The CARROT method???

"What's the CARROT method?" Bonnie tilts their head and scrunches their nose.

Mirabelle points to a line and reads aloud: "Can Arrive at a Really Really Outstanding Technique".

What?

Isabeau chuckles. "If you don't know the CARROT method, you don't need to know the CARROT method."

Okay.

Siffrin sure feels stupider than usual this loop.

But it's fine, it's fine! They have a shield skill! That's what matters!

They take a breath. "So, hypothetically, someone reminding you of the CARROT method would make it click for you?"

"Yes!!!!!!" Mirabelle beams, sliding the book back into its place on the shelf and clapping her hands together.

Well, there you go.

Don't. Get. Your. Hopes. Up.

>>>

They make it through the rest of the house.

He tries to start a few conversations, but his mind is miles away.

Don't get your hopes up.

Do not get your hopes up.

...

Loop.

They don't have anywhere to go either...

Pick up that tonic.

Don't get your hopes up.

Why did you yell at them like that?

Kill that sadness—oh, hey that wasn't so bad this time. More than half of your tonics left.

Why did you have to act like such a needy creep?

Why would they want to stay with you?

Don't get your hopes up.

Pick the malanga fritters again.

They're only helping you to get out of the loops.

Tastes like ash.

The King is ahead...

Siffrin shuts his eye tightly and takes a deep breath, in and out.

He takes another, and another.

They're packing up and are about ready to leave the final safe room.

Tune back in, Siffrin. Don't embarrass yourself dying WITH a shield.

Don't get your hopes up.

"Ready?" Isabeau says as they approach the door.

He blinks and pulls his gaze from the tear floating dangerously close.

"Ready!" He smiles.

Deep breath.

Deep, deep breath.

They push through the door and enter the final hallway before the King.

His heart is going to shatter his ribs.

It's so loud. He can hear it.

It sounds like... clanking metal.

Wait.

He pauses.

That's not him.

"What's that sound?" Bonnie asks.

Something crashes far ahead.

The King bellows, followed by another crash.

Wait.

Wait. Waitwaitwait.

Oh no.

His legs move on their own, and he dashes full speed ahead.

"Sif!?"

"Siffrin, wait!"

Oh stars, oh stars.

Oh, blind it all!

The noise grows louder. There's a massive boom, and the whole House shudders. Dust shakes free from the ancient bricks. Siffrin stumbles but does not slow. His party is already far behind him, calling out to them.

He throws the door open, heart in his throat.

At the far end of the antechamber, the King thrashes around, wailing. Something long juts from his neck, and dark blood spurts from it with every move he makes. The walls around him are littered with holes, with a particularly massive one to his left. Rubble, shards of glass, and so so many tears coat the floor and

        there

                     is

                               a

                                       shade...

terrifying and visceral spattered across everything, the walls, the floor, the King.

And before the tyrant, flying erratically, thrashing violently, dripping that same shade is...

"Loop!"

[thinkerer24]

Guilty as Sin?

Summary: Jack can't keep his eyes (or his thoughts) off of Samira. Unfortunately for him, she belongs to someone else. Is it a sin to want her in his dreams?

Warnings: Suicidal ideations, mentions of cheating (but not really), SMUT, uhhhhh yeah, that's it.

A/N: A big thank you to @cosmclover for the idea and for being so patient. It was so much fun to write this. I kinda changed the exact meaning of the song because I love happy endings but hehe, there's adequate angst, don't worry.

Also the collage is made by me! On Pinterest! Don't steal! It took me like, 5 mins, I know, but still!!!!!!!

My boredom’s bone deep

This cage was once just fine

Am I allowed to cry?

I dream of cracking locks

Throwing my life to the wolves

Or the ocean rocks

Jack awoke with a gasp, fingers white knuckling the sheets as the remnants of his nightmare reverberate in his bones. He could still feel the asphalt beneath his thighs, chafing through the cargo material and abrading his skin, the black smoke thick around him, choking the remaining air from his alveoli. Phantom hands grasped at his shoulders, trying to pull a semi conscious Jack out of the rubble he'd been buried under. Twenty tonnes of concrete should've killed a man- and it would've-if it hadn't been for his competence as a trauma surgeon and hadn't torniqued his trapped leg right beneath the knee.

Rhabdomyolysis, he vaguely remembers. The muscles trapped under the pressure breakdown and the proteins enter the bloodstream. Clog the tiny arteries in the kidney vasculature. If your kidneys are fucked, your entire system is fucked. Ripping the tshirt from his body and tying it tight around his leg was the easy job, the tough part was slowly losing feeling beneath his knee and knowing it'd had to be cut off.

He shakes the memories off his body, shivering slightly in the chill of the Pittsburgh winter night. Safe. Far away from the artillery shelling and piercing shrieks.

Why didn't it feel safe? Why did the walls of the small on call room hundreds of miles away still get his cortisol spiking?

"Dr Abbot?" A small voice from the other side of the door speaks out, and despite his annoyance, his breathing immediately stabilises. Dr. Mohan steps into the room and shuts the door behind her, eyes creased with worry. Jack feels his hands stop shaking. He wants to thumb those creases away.

"I heard you shout. Is everything okay?"

Damn you, Samira Mohan. Damn you and your doe like visage.

Jack just nods, one finger lightly tracing the radial pulse over his other hand, noticing how his heart rate has already leveled out. He gulps once, twice, and looks her dead in the eye.

He remembers a time when his trips to the roof of the hospital were frequent; once almost every four hours. He never slept, never spoke to anyone when he was feeling that particular way; just beelined to the stairs and stood a bit too close to the edge on the other side of the railing. He imagined falling-- a niggling voice at the back of his head telling him to jump, could imagine the sickening squelch of his brain smattering against the concrete. Every day was getting tougher and tougher to bargain with, every moment felt like a negotiation with the inevitable.

Until Samira.

His Samira.

She would sneak up to the roof with him and stand off just a few feet away from the railing. She'd tell him about her day, how she found this insane article about treating a PSVT with rectal penetration or how her mother was making things difficult about her marriage back at home- Indian parents and what not. She spoke about one of the new interns- Santos? Who asked her out for girls night but she didn't know if it would be the "chill in your pyjamas and watch Hulu" typa party, or "get so drunk you puke in your ex's backyard" type. She would ramble until one of the nurses would page either of them and they had to trudge their way down.

He loved listening to her talk, rarely saying anything in return. He could feel himself looking forward to their time on the terrace, his eyes shifting eagerly to the clock in central, just so he could find the right moment to slink away to the terrace with her in tow.

Until one day she didn't arrive. He waited for a few minutes and decided against paging her, thinking it to be too desperate, or too weird, or too un mentor- like, or any of the other hundred bullshit thoughts that plague his mind at any given moment. He paced impatiently but gave up soon. It was the end of his shift anyway- he thought she might have left already. He leaned against the railing and sighed, when a loud giggle snapped his attention.

He climbed over the railing to the other side and bent a bit to see where the sound was coming from and -it felt so juvenile to even think it- but, his heart almost stopped. A blonde man, mid-late 30s, was carrying a huge bouquet of lilacs in one arm and grabbing onto Samira's waist with the other. She looked- radiant. Her hair was open and flowing in the harsh wind, curls almost forming a halo around her face. She was laughing at something blondie said (seriously, who spends extra money to stay platinum blonde? Draco Malfoy?) and wrapped both her hands around his neck as he lifted her effortlessly and kissed her.

"Jack?" Her voice brings him back from his reverie (it could bring him back from the dead, if she so wished, Hades no match for her sweet tone) He shakes his head and smiles weakly at her.

"Just a bad dream"

She nods and walks up to him and stands between his legs and oh, his breathing turns erratic again. She runs her slender fingers through his greying curls and smoothens it out. He thinks he could fall asleep again, just like this. He resists the urge to drop his forehead into her chest and take a deep breath, inhaling her scent-- strawberries and the harsh antiseptic mixed with something that could only be described as her.

"The wolves are gone, Jack. You're safe here."

He just nods.

Crashing into him tonight

He's a paradox

I'm seeing visions, am I bad?

Or mad? Or wise?

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh

Only in my mind?

Samira doesn't remember the last time she could hear her heart valves beat open and shut.

Right atrium, then tricuspid. Pulmonary veins into the left side. Aortic valves beating thump, thump, thump.

Jack was right behind her, holding the guidewire with a loose grip as she manoeuvred the catheter into the jugular. It wasn't a complicated procedure but Jack insisted on showing her the ropes (again). The nurses shared a look which Samira clocked immediately but she was too aware of his proximity to her back, his breath over the nape of her neck to say anything.

The low cadence of his voice made something clench in her lower abdomen, right below her navel. It felt obscene; not appropriate for the public eye, she thought, as he recited the steps in a low baritone. His whisper made it seem something more intimate than it actually was, and Samira couldn't help but imagine that same voice in a more... Private setting.

As soon as she's finished, she pushes away from Jack with a grunt and shucks off her PPE before beelining to the bathroom. A hot flush creeps up her chest and her breathing gets more erratic as she shuts the stall door and frantically pushes a hand into her scrub pants. It was so embarrassing; she'd never done anything like this before, but Jack's voice was still echoing in her mind, his breath still hot on her cheek. She dips a finger into her folds and gasps.

Dripping.

She was drenched.

Rapid strokes of her fingers over her slick clit makes her vision go blurry and she can't breathe anymore. Her chest is heaving and legs are trembling already, flashes of grey hair and a wrinkled smile plaguing the back of her closed eyes like an old tape. She imagines the same cadence of his voice whispering praise into her cunt as he looks up; a wretched expression on his face as he devours her whole. She bites the palm of her hand as the other picks up the pace. She can't take it anymore, her gut twisting into something awful, something explosive.

"Come for me, Samira" she imagines him pleading and she's gone.

A broken sob leaves her and her knees buckle where she stands, almost falling. Her head slams into the stall door behind her and she finds herself praying that no one is in the bathroom to witness this moment of weakness. Her fingers are relentless as they ride her through her high. She comes to soon enough and sighs, when the ping of a message notification snaps her out of the post orgasmic bliss.

Nate🥰: Pizza or Chinese? I'll be done with work soon, can't wait to see you!

Shit.

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh what a way to die

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

"Samira- I, fuck, please"

Full bellied moans permeate the empty room as Jack clutches his pillow hard and almost smothers himself with it to keep the neighbours from hearing how pathetic he really is, how pathetic he feels. He'd been fisting the length of his too hard cock for the better part of an hour with no relief in sight-- he just physically couldn't seem to reach his peak no matter what he tried. His arms were hurting, back sore from being hunched up in one position, voice croaky and throat dry, grey tshirt drenched with sweat even in the Pittsburgh winter, but his body was betraying him harder than Judas himself. He lay himself down on the bed, the pillow smushed over his face in agony, while his other hand fisted himself dry to the thought of caramel skin, strawberry shampoo and those big brown eyes.

It's a longing he can't satisfy no matter how badly he wants it; the images of pressing his lips to her soft, full ones; her opening up to let him lick into her mouth; her biting his lips raw and smearing her spit all over his chin, his cheek; his Samira bending down slowly and kneeling in front of him, smiling up at him as her jaw drops open to swallow him whole - fuck.

He gives up, dejected, as his orgasm evades him again, for probably the fourth time that night. The visions weren't enough, his cells craving the tangible presence of Samira. He needed her here, needed to smell the tang of her cunt as he fingered her spot, make her spray into his open mouth. Needed to hear her squeal and cry and beg as he gave her everything she needed and more, because he couldn't say no, not to his Samira.

His. The word tasted sour on his tongue as he remembered her laugh and giggle in the arms of another man. Jack was sure Nate could lift Samira up without a crick in his back, without lurching to the side because he didn't have a bum leg. He probably didn't wake up due to nightmares of bloodied soldiers and orphaned children. He probably spent his time doing social service or something, not with his hands down his pants like a fuckinng pervert at the thought of his (taken) coworker.

Goddamn you, Jack.

I keep these longings locked

In lowercase inside a vault

Someone told me

There's no such thing as bad thoughts

Only your actions talk

Nate rocked into her cunt with as much vigor as a dead mole rat, which was giving the benefit of the doubt to the dead mole rat. It's not that he was bad in bed, per se, just-

Not what she needed right now.

"I know you can be good for me, Samira"

She gasped because her mind was playing tricks on her, she's sure of it. She closes her eyes and her brain supplied decadent pictures of Jack and his greying curls above her, slight smirk on his face as he rutted viciously into her. Her grip tightened on her lover's back as she squeezed her eyes harder; to prolong the scene. Jack, with his filthy mouth whispering in her ear-

"You're so beautiful, Samira."

"Yeah, wanna come for me? Take it, pretty girl, take it."

"Fuck, baby, you feel so good around me, could die buried in your pussy"

She doesn't know what has overcome her; it was so unlike her to think of another man in bed. She would be embarrassed, ashamed, really, under normal circumstances. But the very thought of Jack instead of Nate made her gush out a stream of slick, making Nate's cock slip further in. He stuttered above her, getting even sloppier in his movements and Samira fought the urge to roll her eyes at him. Poor thing, not his fault he wasn't really experienced. But Samira wasn't in the mood to play teacher right now. She didn't want slow, didn't want to guide him over the edge. She wanted Jack, her Jack, to bore his eyes into hers as he forced her to come over and over and over-

Nate groaned as he emptied into the condom, (finally, thought Samira), and pushed himself off and laid panting on the pillow beside her. She looked at him- his platinum blonde hair (seriously, who pays money for that?), his long eyelashes, those baby blues. The slight smile on his face as he stares at her longingly, kissing her shoulders and thanking her for being patient with him and sorry if it was awkward, he didn't really have much experience, he'll be more confident the next time. Her heart broke-- she didn't know how to comfort him, to hold him close and tell him- it's okay, it happens to the best of us. She couldn't find the right words, but she knew what she had to do.

She knew she couldn't carry this on any longer, couldn't keep imagining another man while the one in front of her fell deeper and deeper in love. She knew what was going to happen next- the screaming, the look of betrayal, the furrowed brows and clipped words as they both say stuff they don't mean.

She takes a deep breath, bracing for the inevitable storm.

These fatal fantasies

Giving way to labored breath

Taking all of me

We've already done it in my head

If it's make believe

Why does it feel like a vow

We'll both uphold somehow?

My bedsheets are ablaze

I've screamed his name

Building up like waves

Crashing over my grave

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

What if I roll the stone away?

They're gonna crucify me anyway

What if the way you hold me

Is actually what's holy?

If long suffering propriety

Is what they want from me

They don't know how you've haunted me

So stunningly

I choose you and me

... Religiously

Fuck what they think.

Jack paces the hardwood floor of his two bedded apartment, almost causing a fire due to the friction from his socks. He'd been rehearsing what he wanted to say for an entire hour, how he'd beg, plead, even kneel down in front of Samira to pick him, choose him, love him, her boyfriend be damned. He'd decided what flowers to bring (she loved lilies, not lilacs, you fool) and how he'd justify his selfishness, his bone-rotting greed when it came to her.

That's it, he thinks. Stop overthinking this.

Sudden, sharp raps from the front door pull him out of his spiral. He furrows his brows and looks at the watch on his hand.

8.24 pm.

He wasn't expecting anyone and a grating sort of annoyance builds in his gut at the thought of dealing with anyone right now. He grumbles all the way to the front door, mumbling his old-man tirade about don't you know what time it is? Who even comes unannounced -?

"Samira?"

His Samira stands in front of his door, drenched from head to toe from the rain. He didn't even notice the storm outside, much too preoccupied with his own turmoil, but the sight of her slightly shivering sent an alarm down his back.

"Oh my god, Samira, come in-what? What's wrong? Is something wrong? Did something happen, I-"

She hurries inside and places her hands on his mouth to shush him, and Jack just melts.

"Jack, I'm gonna need you to shut up, okay?"

He nods. He usually is unable to do much else when he's around her, to be honest.

She shuts the door behind her and walks further into his house and picks up the spare hand towel on his centre table and starts wiping her drenched curls with it. She looks around the house, noticing how clean and well kept it is; her eyes lingering at a framed picture of Jack and his battalion back in Afghanistan. She walks closer to the picture and notices multiple medals of honor neatly placed in the shelf below and lightly traces her fingers across them. Jack shudders in his spot, almost as if she'd run her fingers across him instead.

"I need to tell you something, Jack." She turns around and finally looks at him. His breath catches in his throat. "I need you to promise you won't over react. "

He scoffs and steps closer but she puts a palm up and stares him down.

"Samira, you're scaring me. Talk to me."

"I left him." She breathes out, confident, and decisive.

For a minute Jack thinks he's misheard her. He doesn't realise what "him" this could be in relation to. He quirks his head in query and fixes her with a stare. Slowly, he puts two and two together and-

Oh.

Oh.

"What?" Super eloquent, Jack. Well done.

Samira sighs and steps closer to him. "Nate. I left him. I realised we ... Weren't compatible with each other."

"Uh, okay?" Wow, Jack. Five stars.

Samira looks like she could strangle him alive. She sighs loudly and looks up to the sky as if to beg for strength.

"Jack, it took me a long time to get the courage to say this, but it's the truth and I need you to hear it. I left him, because I realised I wanted you. I want to wake up next to you, every morning. I want to look forward to starting my shift with you, and ending it by your side. I want it all, the dates, the movies, the sitting idle and reading journals, the walks on the beach and the stupid county fairs and -fuck, I know I'm rambling and free feel to step in any time, but- i want you, Jack. Not Nate, not anyone else."

Jack remembers eating his mother's handmade chicken noodle soup for the first time after he had been through the amputation surgery. He remembers how grateful he was to be alive, how hard he cried when he held her close, how lovely the soup tasted going down his parched throat as she fed it to him with tears in her eyes. He remembers thinking- nothing's going to feel better than this.

Well, here he was, in front of his Samira, realising there's never going to be a better moment in his life than this.

"I was going to buy lilies" he says, still dumbfounded.

"I-what?"

"Lilies," he repeats, shifting closer to her. "I know they're your favorite. I wanted to buy lilies and go up to your door and fall to my knees and beg you to feel the same way I do because, fuck, Samira, you don't know how long I've waited for this. This moment, the slant of light as it hits your eyes, your fucking hair, fuck, I- I don't think you know how beautiful you are to me, what you do to me. I'd worship you every day if I could, I'd start a religion after you if you'd let me. I'd go to war again, if you just asked. Fuck, Samira, I love you. "

What if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh

Only in my mind?

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh what a way to die

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Without ever touching his skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

Their clothes were long gone, heavy confessions melted into filthy whispers, as Jack makes Samira come on his tongue again. She looks ethereal, hair still slightly wet from the rain and sticking to her forehead, perky breasts swaying lightly with her movement, her belly caving in with each tremor that racks her body. Jack licks into her reverently, wide tongue tracing every crevice of her wet, wet cunt. Her swollen clit begged for his lips and he happily obliged, sucking lightly as his tongue flicked the tip simultaneously. Samira's eyes rolled back in her head and her mouth dropped open in a quiet scream. Jack moaned into her slick, eyes not leaving her face for even one second. He eases two fingers into her and starts a decadent pace, the tips finding her g spot so quick it makes her head reel.

"Right there? Yeah? Is that your special spot, baby?"

Yeah, Samira thinks. Just as filthy as I'd imagined.

She nods and he smiles at her, something so genuine it makes her chest hurt. He licks up her clit once, twice, and she's gone, coming hard around his fingers. The rhythmic contraction of her cunt around him makes him see white for a second, and he drools over her cunt at the thought of burying himself inside her. Once she comes down from her high, he kisses up her body and lands at her lips, ravenous in his thirst for her.

He pulls back and pressed his nose against her. Breathes in.

Strawberry shampoo. His Samira.

He lifts her in his arms, but immediately regrets it as a sharp pain runs through his knee where the skin pinches against the socket of the prosthesis. He winces and Samira notices it immediately.

"Is it your leg?" Her voice was soft, like trying to soothe a caged animal. He nods and starts with some excuse, some apology, but she just shakes her head and pushes him off of her. She kneels down by the couch and holds his leg gently in her palms. She's completely naked and looking like one of those nymphs in Greek literature and Jack thinks he's actually died and gone to heaven. She takes off his prosthetic gently, removing the sock along with it and makes a sympathetic face at the redness along the skin there. She looks up at him and massages the stump gently, with such reverence, it makes him almost tear up. For the first time he couldn't maintain eye contact with Samira and she was not having any of it.

"Hey," she whispers. "Look at me."

She continues rubbing the skin there until it feels much, much more bearable and only then does Jack turn to look her in the eyes. She smiles.

"Hi"

"Hi" he replies. He offers his hand to her and she takes it, pulling herself up. She straddles his wide hips and immediately, Jack's pupils dilate, almost blown black.

Samira grinds softly along his bulge that's getting harder by the second, his palms slow and teasing in their path across her ass, her hips, squeezing her love handles and ribs, groping her breasts and tweaking her nipples as they find their way into her hair and pull her into a kiss. Her movements get quicker, needier, a spot forming in his pants with how wet she is. He quickly shucks down his sweatpants and oh, his cock is leaking, hard and so so beautiful it makes Samira's mouth water.

She slowly licks up the flat of her palm and pumps his cock steadily, making him hiss and roll his eyes back. She lifts up on her knees and rubs his dick through her folds, coating him in her wetness and Jack can't take it anymore.

His grip on her tightens and he pulls her to his chest, the movement causing his tip to pop into her pussy. She gasps so loudly she thinks the neighbours could hear, and doesn't give her body a chance to adjust as she slams herself down onto him.

They both moan, a sound so pathetic it would make them both blush if they'd heard it any other time. The friction felt heavenly and Jack was worried he'd finish before he had even started. Samira starts grinding on top of him, her wetness slipping easily over him and creating a mess in his lap. He didn't care, not in the least, as his head dips down and he stares at the hair at the base of his cock getting drenched in her juices. His tongue lols out and sucks a nipple into his mouth. Samira gets even more frantic, bouncing on his cock- up and down and up and down and up and down- until her thighs start straining and she gets slightly out of breath. Jack notices immediately- of course he does- and wraps his arms around her waist, plants his one good leg on the floor, and thrusts up into her with the vigor of a man half his age. Samira squeals in delight, his hard cock hitting every mind numbing spot inside her and stretching her out so good it's making her mind go blank.

"Oh Jack, fuck fuck fuck you feel so good, I-"

"Oh sweetheart I'm gonna need you to let go, yeah? I'm gonna need this pretty pussy to come and squirt all in my lap and just, fuck, just drown me, baby. I want to be smelling of you for weeks, i wanna taste you in everything i eat, fuck, baby, don't you wanna be good for me? Come for me so I can fill you up- don't you want that? My Samira?" And oh, fuck- she's gone.

An intense supernova crackles through her nervous system as she comes hard, actually squirting all over his lap, just like he'd asked for. She's crying and coming and holding onto him for dear life as he talks her through her orgasm, pumping his hips steadily. He follows soon enough, emptying his load deep inside her, his body finally achieving the relief he'd been craving for months.

They calm down eventually, and Jack finds himself stroking random patterns onto Samira's back with the gentlest touch. She shivers in his grasp and cuddles into his chest further, the squelch between their legs making her blush slightly. They were going to have to get up soon, take a hot shower and clean up, eat something solid since it'd been a while for Samira, and Jack promised he'd show her how to make chicken noodle soup since she was craving it for a while now. But that was going to happen in some time. For now, they were snuggled up close, content in each other's arms. And that was all that either of them needed.

[rarepairdumpster]

Old Eton College AU Part 1

Pairing: Viktor/Silco (Arcane) Rating: M C/W: Age Gap, Corporal Punishment, Spanking, D/S Dynamics

Old-timey Eton College AU, where Viktor is in his final year, and Silco is the new Schoolmaster, and Viktor is sent to his office for being a smart-mouth

And for a long moment, Silco and Viktor have a staring contest.

Viktor is stubborn, but he is still the first to dip his eyes.

"Assume the position," Silco orders sternly, voice quiet.

And when Viktor does, leaning much of his weight on Silco's desk to keep himself standing, Silco stands up and pulls a large paddle from a cabinet.

The whole room feels charged in the moments before Silco rests the paddle against his ass. 

"By the time I'm through with you, you will regret your insolence."

Viktor being the first student that Silco punished to get hard and reach orgasm under his paddle

Silco going so still when Viktor falls apart in front of him, sobbing onto the desk as a wet patch grows on the seat of his trousers.

Part of him is alarmed. 

Part of him is confused.

And part of him is absolutely intrigued.

Silco nudges the wet patch with the end of his paddle and tuts.

"Insolent and a deviant. I have my work cut out for me."

Viktor turns to look at him, hair falling in his face, pupils dilated to fuck, panting. "Is that all?"

"Who said you could move," Silco asks harshly, hand coming to force Viktor's face back down to the desk. It's automatic. Natural.

And Viktor let's out a grunt at the force.

Silco doesn't move his hand from Viktors body, just moves up his neck, down his spine and stops just above his waistband. "Clearly a stricter method is required to pull respect out of you"

Viktor starts to answer, but then the hand disappears and hears the sound of a belt being unbuckled.

And for a moment, Viktor's mind conjures the filthy image of Silco forcing him. 

But that's not what happens.

Instead, the belt buckle comes down hard on his ass. And it fucking HURTS. More than the paddle had. 

These blows raise welts.

They break the skin.

And Viktor is shaking by the time Silco stops.

Its only 6 blows. But it feels like 60.

It's the first time Silco has ever had to take his belt off. The paddle is usually enough.

And now Silco is out of breath.

And his trousers are tight.

No student has ever made him feel this way. But no student had ever reacted like Viktor did either. Of course he enjoyed punishing, but to have someone enjoy the punishment just as much? It infuriated him as much as it intrigued him.

And now, he thinks, it must be the end of it. The boy will have learned his lesson finally. 

Three weeks later, Viktor is back in his office, being half-dragged in by the ear, when Silco is in the middle of his paperwork.

It doesn't help that he's been thinking about Viktor those entire three weeks, and the urge is strong to check if the marks from last time are still there

Especially because Viktor looks right at him every evening in the dining hall before taking his seat. Very gingerly at first. Clearly wincing. But now the wincing is absent.

Silco casts a dismissive glance at the teacher that dragged Viktor.

"You can go."

His voice is calm and measured.

But Viktor squirms.

Silco stands up the moment the door closes, measuredly walking over to lock it as he passes behind Viktor. His eyes never stray from him.

Viktor jumps slightly at the lock click and Silco can't help but smirk softly at the reaction.

Silco coming to stand behind Viktor.

Viktor doesn't move, heart thumping, a bead of sweat breaking out at his temple. 

"I thought our lesson was learned the last time," Silco says slowly, voice low, "but it seems you choose to be here." 

"I --- "

"Be quiet." Silco's voice is not angry, but it is threatening.

And for once, Viktor doesnt talk back.

And then Silco instructs quietly, "Drop your trousers."

Viktor trembles as he does so one-handed, leaning on his cane with the other

"Pain doesn't seem to be enough incentive to encourage good behaviour," Silco comments, drawing closer. Close enough that Viktor can feel the edge of his coat against the back of his bare legs. "Perhaps we should explore other avenues."

Silco places his hand between Viktors shoulder blades and pushes, forcing Viktor down onto the desk, the position exactly like he was three weeks ago. He takes a glance at Viktors thighs, and has to quickly turn away. The sight of pink marks crisscrossing over his pale thighs made Silco's chest burn knowing he was the cause of them

His trousers are tight.

He ignores it. 

Takes a seat at his desk.

Goes back to his paperwork

And Viktor is both ?????? And !!!!!!!!

20 mins later, a fucking whine escapes Viktor against his will. He's hard and he doesn't know why.

Silco's not DOING anything.

And then, cool as a cucumber, Silco says. "You can go, boy. Close the door behind you."

And Viktor is too flabbergasted to be outraged

Viktor being out of sorts and quiet for days. Annoyed. Confused. Curious? Wanting.....

Silco summons him at the end of the week and Viktors heart is racing by the time he reaches Silco's office. It takes him several moments to gather the courage to knock, even though Silco was expecting him.

"Come in. Close the door behind you."

Viktor does so and instinctually locks it. Silco raises an eyebrow but says nothing and returns to his papers. After Viktor turns back around, he's silent for a long time, only the sound of rustling paper in the room. 

"Every other Friday." Silco finally says, causing Viktor to straighten up a little. "You'll come here directly after your scheduled classes every other Friday."

"And do what?"

The question is out before Viktor can stop it. He's not sure he wanted to stop it.

Silco raises head slowly. He isn't angry at being questioned. Just.....thoughtful. 

"Whatever I tell you to."

Viktor absolutely can't stop the flush that invades his cheeks.

"It's clear you need more consistent monitoring and I'm certain it's best I oversee that personally."

Viktor swallows. Nods. Waits to be dismissed before heading for the door.

And then he stops, hand on the handle.

Looks over his shoulder.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Why are you being so patient with me?"

Silco sets his fountain pen down. Leans back in his chair. Studies Viktor.

"Why do you choose to misbehave?"

".....I don't know." 

Silco gets this not-quite-amused look to him, but he accepts the answer for what it is.

"When you figure it out, you'll know the answer to your question."

Viktor talking back to professors less and less, the more time he spends in Silco's office, under his attentions.

Sorting his paperwork.

Dusting his bookshelves.

Cataloguing new acquisitions. 

Polishing his shoes. 

Preparing his cigarettes 

Etc.

And every time he does something well, Silco murmurs praise and puts a hand on him. A soft caress -- over his hair, over the nape of his neck, between his shoulder blades, etc.

And Viktor feels warm and a lil floaty every single time

Theres one week where Viktor had been bullied particularly hard and he comes to Silco's office frustrated and angry. He's not being particularly respectful or taking time with his tasks like he usually does and Silco quickly notices.

Silco feeling a swell of concern where he might have felt displeasure with another student's disrespect. 

"Come here."

"Why should I?"

Silco drawing a sharp breath in through his nose, and then standing up, walking around the desk, and seizing Victor's ear in a harsh grip 

Viktor yelps, and then he's scrambling to keep up ad Silco pulls him across the room.

"I told you to come here," Silco says quietly, dangerously. "You will do as I ask."

"I won't!" 

In moments, Silco has him face-down on the desk, pinned hard. Viktor is thrashing and panting. Silco is calm. Patient. He rides the struggle out.

He doesn't soften until Viktor starts crying underneath him

"Are you ready to tell me why you're behaving this way?" Silco asks, calm and measured, only easing up his pressure on Viktor slightly

"Why do you care," Viktor spits, almost choking on his tears. "I'm just a worthless cripple!"

"Do you really think I would spend my time on you if you were worthless?" Silco retorted.

Viktor doesn't answer. Just cries. His whole body aches from when the bullies ripped his cane out of his hands and he hit the dirt, and the fight against Silco hasn't helped. Now he's sore and TIRED and angry and sad and lonely and ---

And needy.

Silco hears Viktor start to calm and removes all pressure once Viktors body begins to relax. He still leaves a palm splayed across Viktors back and sighs. "Your disrespect still requires reprimand."

Viktor chokes out a little "Please." 

Silco spanks him with his hand this time, more intimate than other beatings, and has Viktor count each one.

When Viktor stumbles over the count somewhere near 30, Silco tuts and tells him to start again. 

Viktor doesn't argue.

Just does as he's told.

Afterwards, Silco finds himself sitting in his chair, with Viktor curled up in his lap, gentling him.

Silco isn't quite sure what possessed him to do it, but now he has.

Silco can't seem to stop running his fingers through Viktors hair, softly reminding Viktor that he's special and far from worthless.

"You have the greatest potential of any student here," Silco says softly. "Any of those buffoons could step out and be a half-decent politician, but you......you're made for something greater."

Its the kindest thing anyone has ever said to Viktor.

And Viktor, face still wet with tears and prickling with warmth, kisses Silco on an impulse.

And then freezes instantly.

Silco is shocked for a moment, then sighs and places his palm on Viktors chin, wiping a stray tear with his thumb. "I'm afraid that can't happen, my dear boy"

Viktor subsides, mortified. He shouldn't have done that. He doesn't know why he did that. Viktor tries to (awkwardly) escape his lap.

Silco tightens his grip and pulls him closer. "You were not untoward and it wasn't unwelcome." Silco reassured Viktor. "Just... impossible. You may go if you wish, but you don't have to."

"Impossible," Viktor repeats, resigned. It was not the first time he'd heard that word. 

But this....this was the first time he'd felt he could never prove them wrong.

Silco let's go when Viktor pulls against his grip.

Viktor leaves slowly, whole body heavy and sore. He skips dinner and retreats to his dorm room.

Viktor doesn't come to his office the next time he's supposed to. 

And Silco is....out of sorts over it. Not angry, not really; he...understands. But he feels a sort of energy running through him. A restlessness

Part 2

Arch + Woods

[paint-the-walls-white]

Classic Slasher

Pairing: Ghostface (Danny Johnson) x Fem!Reader

Summary: In an attempt to get away from the stress of life, you visit your families cabin. Even when there aren't any people around for miles, you can't shake the feeling of being watched.

Warnings: KnifePlay! MaskStaysOn! Chase! NonCon to Con! Degradation! Praise! From the Back! Bondage! Anal!

As you dropped your luggage by the door, you sighed, excited to finally have a relaxing vacation. Work had been extra stressful and your parents had given you the okay to stay at their lodge in the mountains. It was a nice cool October day, just a few hours before dusk, so you decided to start your vacation with a nice soak in the hot tub on the back deck.

After putting away your clothes in the bedroom, you changed into your bikini and slid into the nice hot water, sighing as it soaked into your skin. The chilled air offered a nice contrast to the boiling water. After a few minutes, you checked your phone and notified your parents you had just gotten to the lodge, but the message wouldn't be delivered. No mobile service.

'I'll just tell her later..'

Just as you placed the cell phone back on the edge of the hot tub, the landline inside started to ring. You decided it was time to get out of the jacuzzi and went to answer the phone but it stopped ringing before you could pick it up. An eerie feeling began to develop in your stomach but you shook it off and went to change.

A few hours later, the sun had just set for the evening and you had made dinner, settling on the couch in some pajamas to watch a movie; the phone started to ring again.

"Hello?"

'Hello? Who is this?'

"I think you have the wrong number sir,"

You listened closely on the line, hearing the soft sound of breathing. That eerie feeling came back.

"Hello? Sir?"

The repetitive beep from the speaker clued you in that the person on the other line must have hung up the phone. Unsettled, you put the phone back on the stand and walked over to the couch, plopping down with a bowl of popcorn in your lap.

"Guess it was the wrong number.."

Scrolling through the options on Max, you settled on The Nun II as you hadn't seen it yet. You were intently watching the movie when you suddenly got that eerie feeling of being watched. Pausing the movie, you walked up to the sliding glass door, locking it and closing the blinds. Then you made your way around the house, locking the rest of the windows and doors until you felt a bit better and sat back down to finish the movie.

You jumped at the sound of the phone ringing next to you. It was the same number from before. Swallowing that anxious lump in your throat, you answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi," It sounded like the same man from before, which caused a chill to run down your spine.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Just wanted to talk to someone. You're the only person I've been able to contact out here."

That made you uneasy but you relented, "Ok.. Why are you calling? What's your name..?"

He chuckled, "Why don't you tell me your name first beautiful."

You couldn't help but blush at his blatant flirting, pausing the movie to turn your attention to him, "Why do you wanna know my name?"

"I wanna know who I'm looking at."

Your heart sank into your stomach,

"What did you say?" Your heart rate picks up and your breathing becomes shallow. Time seemed to stop. He said something but you asked him to repeat himself again,

"I said I wanna know who I'm talking to,"

"Oh.. I thought you said.. Never mind.. Sorry I'm a little skittish, I've been watching too many scary movies I guess.."

Your heart rate calmed down a little bit, but you could feel your skin pricking up with goosebumps. You rubbed at your thigh to calm down, causing the bumps to fade. Biting at your nails, your eyes flicked around the room anxiously.

"Oh yea? Do you like scary movies?"

"Mhm.. My family watches them religiously for Halloween, we have a whole spreadsheet of what to watch every year."

You calmed down a bit and began talking to the man more calmly. After talking for a few minutes, raving about scary movies and which are your favorites, the man speaks up again,

"You know you never told me your name.."

"Why? I kind of like the mystery,"

He chuckled lightly again, "Well, then do you have a boyfriend?"

"No.. Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?"

"Maybe.. Or maybe I just wanted to know if you’re really up here all by yourself."

That feeling crept into your stomach again. Dread makes its way into your bones as time seems to stop. You never told him where you were.

"How did you.. How do you know I'm here alone..?"

"You told me, remember?"

"No, I did not. Are you watching me?"

You frantically got up to peek out the windows, searching for anyone who could be lurking around the house, but all you could see was the impossibly dark woods.

"No point in looking for me Doll, you're not even gonna see me coming."

"This isn't funny, Psycho! I'm hanging up!"

You threw the phone back on the stand and ran up stairs to grab your dads shotgun. That's when the landline in that room rang again. You saw it was his number again. You picked up, preparing to scream at him.

"If you hang up on me again, I'll gut you like a fucking fish!"

Your breathing picked up as you held the phone to your ear. This wasn’t happening. You warily made your way down stairs, peeking around every corner until you made it to the living room again.

"What do you want?"

"I wanna play a little game. You answer three little questions about horror, and I'll let you live, get one wrong and I'll rearrange your guts."

You swallowed, tears flooding in your eyes as you sat on the couch, gun in hand and the phone pressed to your ear.

"Ok.."

"Very good. Question one, this one is easy. What is the name of the killer that haunts peoples dreams?"

You flicked your eyes around the room, "Freddy Krueger,"

"Very good. See? Isn't this fun? Question two: Who is the killer in Friday the 13th?"

Really? This was so easy, "Mrs. Vorhees. Jason didn't appear until the later movies."

He chuckled through the phone, "Very good, Now for the third question,"

You sucked in a breath. If it was anything like the first two, this would be easy.

"What room am I in right now?"

Your heart dropped. No, He couldn't have gotten inside. You had locked everything up earlier-

"Tick tock. What room am I in, Doll?"

"Please.. Please just leave me alone!"

"That wasn't the fucking question. If you don't answer in the next ten seconds I'm gonna fucking kill you. Ten. Nine. Eight..."

"I-I don't know- The Basement!"

"Four.. Hah... Good guess."

You breathed a sigh of relief, until the power went out.

"But that's the wrong answer."

Your stomach sunk as the phone line went dead. So much for a vacation. You were going to be killed and no one would know for far too long. No. You weren't going to sit back and be killed. You were going to go down kicking and screaming.

You shucked a bullet into the chamber, eyes adjusting to the darkness, ear listening closely. The air was eerily still and it was impossibly dark. Standing, you walked down the hall to the basement door. He said he wasn't in there, and he seemed like the kind of person that wouldn't lie about that.

As you crept down the stairs, you were careful to avoid any creaky spots, your wooly socks insulated the sound of your footsteps. When you reached the bottom of the stairs, that's when you heard it. The heavy sound of a shoe pressing down on wood.

He was right above you.

You thankfully had grabbed your phone and stuffed it in your pocket before moving, if you could get out through the basement door then you could make a run for it and call for help.

And right when hope was just in your grasp you heard the phone in your pocket start to ring. You hadn’t had service this whole fucking time and now it decides to start working? Seriously? You fumbled to decline the call, dropping the gun to the floor. If he didn't know where you were before, he definitely did now.

You ran, making a break from the door across the basement as you heard his hurried steps down the stairs. You tried to unlock it with shaky hands, getting to the very last lock before you couldn't hear his footsteps anymore.

You turned, completely horrified as a man stood at a hulking 6'4", broad shoulders concealed by a black cloak and a ghost mask with no emotion behind it. He brandished an eight inch hunting knife in one hand and in the other a phone in his hand. He dialed a number and your cell phone started to ring. You answered the phone and pressed it to your ear:

"Boo"

You quickly undid the lock and swung the door open but he slammed the door closed, caging you against it with a knife pressed to your throat.

"Don't fucking move or I'll slice your throat."

"O-Ok.." Your back was pressed firmly against his broad chest. Despite the fact he literally had a knife to your throat, your body flushed at the contact. A heat pooled in your stomach because of the warmth he emitted against you.

"That's a good girl.. Aww you were so close huh? Ain't that too bad.. You're one of the smarter ones I've had.. I love that final girl mentality.."

You let out a shaky breath as he pressed harder against you, your chest now flushed against the door. The cold wood caused your nipples to harden and you whimpered underneath him under the guise of fear.

"Please.. I'll do anything, just please don't kill me.."

He chuckled against the side of your face, his warm breath creeping from the black mesh of his mask.

"How cliche.. I thought you were better than that sweet heart. But fine. Humor me, beg for your life.."

He eased up his knife, gently grazing it against your skin. Chills followed the cool steel of the blade as he ran it over you. The leather of his glove squeaked as he moved to tightly grip your face. 

"Please.. Please don't, Please.."

"Ghostface." He barked out the title. You whimpered at the harsh tone in his voice.

"Please Ghostface.. Please don't kill me.."

As much as it was embarrassing, this was extremely arousing. Something about the way he had your life in his grasp, demanding you beg, it was just so degrading; but really fucking hot.

You whined as arousal started drooling from your cunt, soaking your underwear. He traced the knife over your shoulder, running it under the strap of your tank-top before pulling it taunt.

"How would you feel if I just fucking shredded your clothes.. Hmm? Not like you could do anything to fight it anyways.. You know what? On the couch. Now."

Ghostface gestured at the couch in the center of the basement. He eased off of you, allowing you room to walk. As much as you wanted to run, some twisted part of your mind wanted to see where this was going.

"Thats a good girl.. Sit."

Sitting on the couch, you pressed your legs tightly together in an attempt to ease the building ache in your abdomen. He crouched to meet your eye level, gently placing the tip of his knife on your chin to raise your face, forcing you to meet the gaze of his mask.

He tutted at her shamefully, "What am I going to do to you..? This is gonna be real fun.." It was completely dark in the house, but the moonlight shone just enough through the basement window that you were sure he could see the flushed expression across your face. He stood, flipping his knife in his hand.

"Don't fucking move."

Ghostface got to work, quickly shredding your shirt down the middle. You gasped as he nicked your skin, flinching at the contact. He was quick to slice again, growling, "I said not to fucking move. Do you want me to slit your throat?"

You quickly shook your head. You were so light headed and flustered. He groaned at the sight of your bare breasts.

"Fuck.. Aren't you a beauty.." You blushed under his eyes and moved to cover your chest with you arms,

"Don't say that.. It's embarrassing." He barked out a laugh, ripping your arms away from your chest and pinning them on the back of the couch with one hand, his knife at your throat once again. His warm breath brushed across your face as you looked into the black mess of his mask. There were no features visible behind it, but that made it all the more exciting.

"I will do and say whatever the fuck I want. I thought I told you not to fucking move?"

The fear in your eyes quickly faded as he released your arms to shrug off his cloak, shucking off his belt to bind your hands. You eyed his crotch for a split second before meeting his gaze once again.

"You're such a fuckin' whore you know that? Letting me do this to you. Let's get these fucking things off."

He flipped you over so your chest pressed against the back of the couch and your knees dug into the leather seat. He sliced at your shorts, nicking your ass and thigh before tossing them aside. You were left completely bare for him, bowing your head in shame as slick dripped down your leg.

"Fuck.. I knew this pussy would be so fucking beautiful.." His gloved hand prodded at your folds, halting almost as soon as he made contact.

"And... Wet..? Wait, are you getting off on this?"

You buried your face into the couch, mumbling a yes into your arm as you clenched around nothing. Your face flushed a bright red, creeping down your neck and to your ears.

"Fuck..." He pulled away from you, running his hand over his mask in frustration. You peaked over your shoulder, completely embarrassed.

"Are.. Are you disappointed..?"

"A little! I didn't think you'd be this fucking easy. You really are a whore aren't you?"

You hid your face again, yelping when he smacked your ass firmly, pulling your head back by your hair to look at him.

"I asked you a fucking question. Answer it."

"Y-Yes.." He released your scalp, quick to return his gloved fingers to your sloppy folds. You whined as he quickly sunk two fingers in. He slowly pressed in and out, groaning at the sight of your slick coating his glove.

"Look at you.. You're so fucking ready for me, aren't you? No fucking resistance.."

Your eyes widened as you heard the sound of his pants unzipping, whining at the loss of stimulation until he snickered, slapping your pussy. You let out a yelp as he smacked your clit, your slick sliding down your legs.

Ghostface pressed the head of his cock against your sloppy folds, groaning at the feeling of your wet cunt. He slid in between them, gliding the length of his thick cock through your labia at a painfully slow place. He pulled your hips to meet his as he towered over you.

"Beg for it like you begged for your fucking life. Say it, say you want this fat fucking cock inside you."

You whimpered as he glided along your clit, 'Please... Please Ghostface.. Please fuck me.." Your cheeks were burning a bright red at this point, far too aroused to care that this man had broken in and threatened your life after stalking you for who knows how long.

"Good fucking girl...Fuck you're so wet for me.."

Your eyes widened as he started stuffing himself in your pushing, a breathy moan escaping your lungs as he pressed against your cervix with ease.

He groaned at the feeling of your tight pussy wrapped around him, pulsing along his length. You whined at the stretch, pushing your hips back to meet his. He slid his hands up your scalp and pulled your head back to look down at you.

"You're gonna take this fucking cock like the good whore you are.. And then maybe.. Just maybe, I'll let you live.."

Eyes clouded with desire, trembling with need, you nodded. He groaned, pulling out until just the tip was left before thrusting into the hilt, forcing you to press harder into the couch. You moaned loudly at the contact as he continued to pound you sloppy cunt.

"That's a good fuckin girl.. Taking this cock.. So fucking well... Oh fu-uck.."

"Please.. No more.. S' too much.." You whimpered as the knife was pressed to your throat again. Tears picked your eyes from the overwhelming pleasure.

"I'll stop when I'm fucking done Bitch." He groaned, drilling into you at a punishing pace, grinning maniacally behind the mask as he began carving his initials into the flesh of your ass. You hissed at the pain but just rested your head on the couch to look back at him.

All you could do was whimper as your slick collected between your thighs, His cock collecting a ring of your arousal at the base. Your moans became desperate as you started to tighten around him. You threw your head back, arching into him as you came around his cock.

"Fuck.. Are you fucking cumming right now? Look at you.. Fuck.. You're so fucking tight.."

As you came on his cock, he continued his brutal pace, overstimulating your sensitive walls.

"Please.. Too much..." He groaned, pulling fully out of you. You whined at the loss but then gasped as he prodded at the tight ring of muscles just above where he was. "N-No-!"

Ghostface sliced at your back, "You don't get to fucking tell me No. You'll take it... Don't worry Doll.. I'm not a monster, I'll prep you first.."

You gasped at the feel of cool metal prodding at your slopping folds, sinking the handle of his knife into your cunt. You squeaked as he pressed a finger into your ass, whining at the feeling of being full.

He pulled the handle of his knife from your cunt and pressed it against your ass, replacing his finger with the slick shaft. You moaned loudly at the intrusion, surprisingly sensitive.

"That's a good girl.. Fuck.."

Ghostface pulled the knife from your ass and lined up his heavy cock, slipping in the head, slowly pressing in until you took his whole length. He quickly started a brutal pace, fucking your ass with a punishing force.

"You fucking like this, don't you? You like when I fill your fucking holes like this?" He stuffed a finger in your pussy, quickly working his way up to three.

You could only mumble incoherent phrases as he fucked you stupid, a different coil winding tight in you abdomen.. It almost felt as if you were about to pee.. But there was no way.. That'd be so embarrassing-!

"No- No- I'm gonna- Please..." He groaned as warm liquid flooded from your cunt.

"Fuck.. did you just fucking squirt from this..? That's so fuckin hot.. Fuck I'm gonna cum.. Take it.. Take it!"

He pressed his cock as deep as he could into your ass, spilling his seed into your tight cavern. The wet sound of him pulling out made you blush as you slumped against the couch, completely spent.

He gently unwrapped the belt from around your wrists and stuffed his cock back into his pants.

"Clean yourself up. I'll be back tomorrow Doll."

You slowly slid off the couch, nodding slowly as you walked on shaky legs to the bathroom. You could feel his presence was gone by the time you turned on the water. You screamed as you looked at what he did to your ass.

D.J.

[sirensuccubus88]

Weed always makes me sooo horny, I mean it feels like I've been edging for hours when all I did was hit my pen hard enough to cough. But I have to, my disabilities have me in so much constant pain, and it's the only thing that helps.

I can't take it. I ache I throb I burn. I'm always so very desperate to be touched. I go back and forth between painful agony and excruciating pleasure over and over. Sounds like a fun or not so fun night right?

Except for me? it's my entire life, there are no breaks, no safewords, I can't say no. I am raped at every moment and I'm always caught between HATING it... and absolutely fucking loving it.

I wish someone would take advantage.

Fantasy

We've been out on a few dates so your aware of all my disabilities and that I microdose with weed. You've made me feel comfortable enough around you to let my guard down... We're watching a movie at your place and a pain wave hits me. I don't want to burden you but you see me flinch.

"oh your hurting babygirl? Here hit your pen. You already did? It's ok another won't hurt"

"here I brought you a gummy, yes take the whole thing. No it won't be too much, the pen will wear off before this kicks in"

"time for another pen hit baby. You still have time before that gummy hits."

"Oh no that wasn't big enough take another. Mmmmm, I don't see any smoke darling, just one more hit"

By this time I'm a shaking puddled mess and you haven't even touched me yet. You can tell by the way I clench my legs together, my shallow ragged breathing and the way my eyes don't quite focus anymore. THEN the gummy hits me and I realize it wasn't a small 10, it must have been atleast a 20 or a 30. I panic, but it's far too late.

I'm so sleepy, so foggy, so sensitive and it doesn't matter what you ask, whatever it is, I give in. I wake the next morning so terribly confused, embarrassed, humiliated as everything that happened last night comes flooding back to me along with a soreness in my whole body I've never felt before. My eyes tear up, I'm trying not to cry, not to make a noise and wake you up. It's no use, you hear me whimper and you roll over to face me and I jump, and then flinch. I hurt so much and I'm so scared.

"awww princess it's been too long since you hit your pen! Let me get it for you"

You start to get up to get my pen for me but I shake my head no violently, and then cry out from the pain shaking my head caused.

"baby if you won't smoke, at least take a gummy, your hurting"

You pout me while trying to hand me a gummy. I shake my head again, my anxiety is panicking so bad I'm starting to hyperventilate.

You pounce on top of me pinning my arms under your knees, the most conflicted look on your face, somewhere between concerned kind smile and sinister evil smirk

"I will NOT have my babygirl hurting herself, now open up!"

You squeeze my cheeks hard trying to pry my mouth open and I taste blood. Finally I can't fight anymore and my jaw opens wide at the pressure. You shove not 1 but 2 gummies down my throat so far there's no chance of them coming back up, forcing me to swallow them whole. Then you let me go and kiss my forehead.

"that's my good girl, now since there is no fighting it anymore, are you sure you don't want to hit your pen? You must be hurting so bad, I just wanna make you feel good"

I start to cry and nod. I realize I've lost my last shred of dignity as I say yes. It's too late anyway, what's coming is inevitable, you made sure of it. At least I can stop my pain.

You grin and hand me my pen, I hit it and cough, already feeling that slow burning pressure build inside me. As I relax I can feel the adrenaline leaving my body and I realize it was the only thing keeping me conscious. My heart rate is too high, triggering my heart condition. You can see I am losing the battle to stay conscious and the look on your face is utterly wicked and unhinged.

"it's ok babygirl, rest, I got you"

You walk towards me and I can feel you start to touch me as I faint.

[lucy90712]

Thunderstorms- Gavi

The loudest clap of thunder I think I've ever heard woke me very suddenly from what was a great dream from what I remember. Shortly after the thunder the room was lit up with multiple bolts of lightening. That's when I knew I'd be awake until the storm passed I've always been scared of storms so unless I sleep through them I spend the entire time awake usually shaking slightly. It's such an irrational fear but I can't help but be scared although I have never told anyone that I'm so scared of storms because I don't want to deal with the teasing. My parents know that I used to be scared of storms but I imagine they think I've grown out of it which I wish I had but outside of that I haven't told anyone even my boyfriend. 

Another clap of thunder made me jump while Pablo slept soundly beside me. That man can sleep through anything I swear, he's slept through fireworks literally next door, thunderstorms and everything else that would wake a normal human being. I know he won't wake up on his own but I'm definitely not going to wake him as I don't want him to laugh at me at least not right now. Instead I just tried my best to get close to him as he slept in hopes that would help me sleep as cuddling with him usually helps me sleep. I shut my eyes and tried to relax but the constant noise and light was always on my mind so I couldn't let myself relax. My hands were still shaking and I could feel my heart rate jump every time there was more thunder. I know breathing techniques are supposed to help calm you down but even those weren't settling my nerves. All I wanted to do was shut myself in a dark room where I couldn't see or hear anything but that's not possible I have to stay here and try and sleep.

Cuddling into Pablo's side didn't help me one bit so I gave up and just kept tossing and turning which made Pablo start to stir. I stopped moving in hopes that he'd just go back to sleep but he kept stirring until his eyes opened. Some more thunder came and I tried so hard not to move or make a noise but the longer it went on and the louder it got I couldn't stop myself making a small noise out of fear. That definitely gave away that I wasn't sleeping as I felt Pablo turn over in bed and his arm touched my waist. 

"It's ok I've got you" he whispered in my ear as he pulled me into his chest 

"I'm fine" I said trying to convince myself more than him 

"You don't have to pretend baby I know you're scared but I'm right here to keep you safe" he said 

"How did you know?" I asked

"I see the way you always tense up when there's a storm and I could see you shaking" he said 

"But you've never made fun of me it's such a stupid fear if you knew why did you never tease me about it" I questioned 

"Why would I make fun of you it's not a stupid fear and even if it was there's no way I'd make fun of you I just want to make you feel better you could be scared of apples and I'd still do everything I can to protect you so thats what I'm going to do so remember if you are scared just tell me I'll be there for you like you are for me" he said 

"Thank you but apples really" I laughed 

"That's just the first thing that came to mind but you get the point" he smiled 

He decided to keep listing random things I could be scared off that he wouldn't make fun of me for while stroking my hair and back to relax me. This list got more and more ridiculous until he said that if I was scared of footballs we would have a problem but he'd still find a way to love me which made me laugh. I think his aim was to distract me and it was working as just listening to him talk as he rubbed my back was making me feel tired again. 

Just as I was starting to fall sleep some more thunder made me jump so Pablo came up with a new idea every time there was thunder or lightning he pressed a soft kiss to either my hair or my forehead. He kept talking and giving me kisses until I was struggling to keep my eyes open and I gave in and let sleep consume me. Being able to fall asleep during a storm is a big thing for me but it's only because Pablo is by my side. Him knowing about my fear is actually a huge weight off my shoulders especially knowing he won't tease me for it being able to turn to turn to him when I'm scared will really help me. 

[breedingreading19]

TW: Gunshot wounds and blood

It was late, probably around 1 am, as Emma danced around in her kitchen blaring some random playlist off her phone, wiping off bits of flour and cinnamon into her trash can that she pinned up against the cabinets. Off in her own little world till she heard a knock on her window, after a year and a half of knowing Jason Todd, most would stop jumping at the sound but Emma still jumped dropping the small trash, making puffs of flour coat the bottom of her black yoga pants and a light dusting on the floor.

"Thanks, Jay. Can't text or call first no, you always have to scare the shit out of me" She mumbles under her breath walking up to her bedroom, hearing her dog barking at him but quickly hurrying to the window not seeing him in eyesight. Looking out, seeing Jason all dressed up in his Red Hood get up but sitting stiffly on her fire escape, clutching his shoulder. Unlocking the window, she steps out loudly.

"Jay!" She quietly exclaims, kneeling down to look more closely at him.

"Hey, you’re a sight, mmhm, for sore eyes. Can I get a hand?" He mumbles tensed up in pain.

"Yeah..." She says bending down putting her arm under his attempting to support him up but it takes a moment as they both hear some slight creaking coming up the lower end of the stairs. "C'mon, someone’s coming" She whispers into his ear, before heaving him up onto her body essentially and him nodding his head against her shoulder as he reaches for his pistol on his right hip. Pulling it out and reaching past her shoulder, using it to steady his aim, it failing pretty quickly as her heart rate speeds up and her body begins to shake hearing people being thrown up against the bricks and over the rails, Jason taking a deep breath before pulling the trigger. Emma holds her breath trying to not move.

"Get inside. Em. I’ll be in a minute" He whispers weakly

"No, you need to get that looked at" She replies harshly, "Let’s just go inside if they don't see us they won't know you’re in my apartment"

"Blood trace, babe. I gotta take em out now" He says take a few more blind shots before hearing a masculine voice echoing up the stairs.

"It’s me asshole, stop shooting. They’re taken care of" It yells up. Jason visibly relaxes.

"You followed me?" He called back as the man finally got close enough Emma could turn her head a bit and see a well-built man in a black spandex suit with blue lines running up the arms and legs with a giant bird in the middle of his chest.

"Um.. Hood, you need to get patched up c’mon, your... friend can come in" Emma breaks in feeling more warm blood oozing onto her skin. Jason nods him grunting as he climbs into the window quickly getting licked by the familiar dog. Emma and the new man followed through, Jason flops down onto the bed before ripping his glove off and stuffing his finger into the bullet wound. Biting his lip watching the man look around the room, as Emma ushered the dog into the bathroom before closing the door as she quickly grabbed the first aide kit she put together months ago, It was more or less a gunshot wound kit stuffed into an old first aide box. Running out of the room, closing the door in her poor puppies’ face, seeing Jason already taken his helmet off and it laying beside him on the bed and his shirt and cracked plating being thrown on the floor.

“I told you not to follow me” He says obviously annoyed at the man as Emma sat down beside him and sat out all her items. Pouring anti septic onto some gauze.

“Yeah, how would that have turned out for you?” He replies equally annoyed

“Before the two of you start fussing” Emma exclaims pulling out gloves and tweezers looking at the both of them. “How many bullets and what kind?”

“1, standard 9mm, my chest piece just got shattered by…. OH fuck! No warning?!” He yells as she begins patting the outside wound with the wet gauze as it burns away the bacteria already trying to set in.

“You saw me bring the gauze to your chest don’t act like you didn’t” She throws back at him both looking at the man as he starts laughing.

“You must be the nurse? Emma, right?” He asks as Jason winces as Emma brings the tweezers into the hole and pulling out the bullet

“Um yeah, how…?” She asks not looking at him focused on the job in front of her, propped up on her knees beside of him trying to be level with his shoulders her spare hand placed on his chest stabilizing herself.  

“He’s my brother. Alfred told him” Jason explains quickly closing his eyes

“Oh, um Hi. Theres drinks and snacks in the kitchen, uh make yourself at home.” She says unsure quickly turning her eyes to him and then back.

“Thanks, but I won’t stick around long just wanted to make sure he was okay, and also make sure he wasn’t coming back out. Bats said to take the night off, rest”

“No way, fuck you and him! I took this case because of…” Jasons yells but stops and chews on his words looking at Emma now stitching up the hole. “Because of the people involved and the two of you want to kick me off of it because I got shot, I’m finishing it, tonight!”

“No, you’re off the case because it’s done, Bats called the cops to arrest them” He says pointing out the window as loud sirens can be heard around the building and voices echoing inside through the window. Jason lets out a humph before rolling his eyes.

“Whatever, just get out of here Boy wonder”

“I think you mean thank you, but Emma it was nice meeting you. Thank you as well for helping my asshole of a brother.” He says walking to the window again, as she nods her head and waves, wrapping Jason’s shoulder up. “Oh, by the way, Nightwing or Dick Grayson if I ever see you around” He adds before jumping out of window disappearing into the night. Emma’s face contorts for just a moment realizing who this was, Nightwing. While never seeing him in person she knew the name, the connection between him and Batman and all the robins. Emma had known about what had happened in Ethiopia all those years ago, Jokers heinous beatings, Jason’s bitch of a mother, if you could even call her that, but Jason didn’t just have a connection to Bruce Wayne and Wayne Intercorps as a whole but also Batman. She blinked her eyes for a few moments as she turned to close up her supplies, but the thoughts didn’t leave her mind. It had only been a few weeks since she met Pennyworth, and she decided to let most of it go. Jay’s life was complicated from the endless nights of patrol to save the city to the odd amounts of money he seemed to have flowing at the seams to the elephant in the room since the first time they met, as she struggled to take off his several layers of chest protection only to find the autopsy scar littered down his chest. He was nearly passed out from blood loss from a laced bullet wound. Nothing had ever made her think about Jason and the Red Hood being connected though, not on a personal level, not on the level that made Nightwing his brother. ‘Nightwing his brother’, she repeated in her head. Nightwing is Dick Grayson also Bruce Waynes’s son, Nightwing was also rumored to be Batman’s son as well, but that would make Bruce Wayne, Batman. Her eyes blinked once more as her hands betrayed her as she went to put the cap on the peroxide but instead the bottle tipped spilling onto her pants. Taking a deep breath as the cold seeped, finally hitting her pants and hearing Jason’s obvious annoyance as he mumbled something under his breath. She took a deep breath before turning to look back at him.

“I’m glad you’re okay” She mumbles just above a whisper he stops his annoyed commentary as she spoke and a smile barely crossed his face with a hint of the crinkles as the corners of his eyes.

“Yeah… me too… and he’s right, thank you for always being here for me.” He adds in before focusing on her face for a moment and reaching his hand out to cup her cheek. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, um nothing just spilled some peroxide but let me worry about that” she said shifting around to face him, twisting the cap once more before laying it down behind her

“That’s not it” He replies his eyes giving off his disbelief as she shakes her head

“I’m fine really” She replied before leaning in and kissing his cheek and moving her lips over his. Their lips moving against each other, her other hand moving to his good shoulder before moving it down to the little bit of fat the man kept at all right around his midriff, but the second her hand applied any pressure she could feel the hard muscles underneath. Groaning slightly into her mouth his hands made their way to her hips, grasping onto the plush before moving her into his lap, never once breaking the kiss. Hands moving across each other’s bodies as Jason lays back bringing her down with him as his hands begin to slither up her shirt feeling the soft satin bra she bore underneath. A few moments later a muffled husky howl and scratching can be heard from the bathroom as Emma pulls away laughing to herself.

“Cock blocker” Jason fake fusses turning his head to the door. Emma once again shakes her head before getting out of Jason’s lap as he groans a bit, putting his head on the bed.

“Oh, stop being a baby. You need to rest anyway.” She says walking over to the door not bothering to put her shirt back on. Letting the ball of pure fluff and crack energy out of the bathroom as she begins to jump up on Emma.  

“I would have been resting, and sides when did you graduate from medical school?” He chimes in standing up from the bed and walking over to grab some clothes that he had left here over many times patch ups or just nights spent in this bed.

“Haha, remember that the next time you want to know what medicine to take when you have a stuffy nose” She replies with fake laughter watching the dog run over to him and barking at him as she sat patiently beside him. He pulls his fresh shirt onto his body with a few grimaces of pain before turning and rubbing her head as a dog smile spreads across her face. “And you say I spoil her” Emma adds in as she grabs her t-shirt and unclasps her bra before sliding her shirt back on.

“You do but I can’t make it any worse”

“Whatever, if you give them another hour you can have some homemade cinnamon rolls”             

“Yeah, how about some cinnamon rolls and a conversation about my family since you met Dickwad already” Jason says running his arm through his hair. “And Bruce has been bugging me about bringing you around”

“Oh?” She says grabbing the first aide container and walking it back to the bathroom. “So do I pretend I do or don’t know your odd playboy billionaire father is also the terrifying batman or are those card out on the table these days?”

“So that’s why you looked like that? You figured it out from Dick” he says as she walks back into the bedroom.

“Yeah, yeah… I also kind of was kicking myself for not realizing it a week ago” she adds putting her hand on her hip.

“It’s alright, you’re not supposed too. Bruce told me I should tell you but I was waiting for the better time, but Dick ruined that, as he does most things.”

“So cinnamon rolls, more family secrets and eventually I meet your family? Which I know from the news is not small” she says walking over to him and pulling on his shirt a bit as he wraps his arms around her waist pulling her into his chest.

“Not even a bit, but you tell me when your ready and then I’ll talk to everyone about when” She nods her head looking up at him

“Well come on I gotta put them into the oven hot stuff” She pulls away a bit pulling him to the kitchen as he playfully rolls his eyes as they both walk out of the bedroom with the husky in close trails behind.

[lirarey]

See you again (chapter 4 — ending)

That evening, Jane anxiously sorted through her things, trying to put her thoughts in order. The girl is frankly not used to talking about such difficult topics. What if everything goes badly and everyone decides that she's crazy?..

"You're not crazy," it sounded behind her, "but I still wonder what's going on."

Jane turned around with a start. The last phrase happened to be spoken out loud. Carlos was standing in the doorway of her room.

"I understand that everyone sometimes wants to be alone..." The guy broke off, and she remembered that one of his fears had always been loneliness. Without realizing it, Jane was hurting him even more. "But you weren't even here at your own birthday party. And you stopped practicing magic altogether. Something happened?"

"Magic is dangerous. Even for me," she replied quietly. "Mom was right."

"You never thought that. What happened?"

"I was in reality where you're dead!" Blue flames flared up from the surge of strong emotions on her fingertips, and Jane abruptly clenched her hands into fists, calming down. "Because of this, the magic is completely out of control. What kind of fairy am I if I can't even figure out my essence?"

"Did I dead?.." He took a tentative step forward. "Another reality? Little star, what are you talking about?"

"I've been living in another one all this year. The reality where you died shortly after my birthday. One day you didn't wake up. Cardiac arrest in sleep caused by a decrease in heart rate." Turning away, Jane ran her palm over the frame of the floor mirror, but pulled her hand away, feeling the familiar tingling in her fingers. "I've never seen more mourning in Auradon in my entire life. Even those who didn’t fully approve of the opening of the barrier expressed regret. So many people gathered... Mal tried to hide her tears, but there was a tremor in her voice. Evie came without makeup for the first time. She was visibly shaking, and Doug was holding her elbow. Jay and Lonnie came up later: they couldn't find Dude anywhere. Who would have thought that he would jump into my arms. He whined so quietly. He didn't want to talk to anyone. Even Ben didn't finish his speech. Everyone was shocked."

Carlos froze, listening intently to her every word. Now he looked strangely like a Dalmatian, which his mother disliked so much. All the muscles were tense, except for the wide-open eyes. She talked and talked, recalling the smallest details, not shutting up, afraid to stumble and see disbelief in his reaction. The fire in her hands flared up every now and then, but she had to restrain himself.

"Jane," Carlos crossed the small distance between them and took the tips of his fingers, still hot from the magical fire, in his palms, "Take a deep breath. I believe you."

It's amazing how just three words can affect a person. A wave of relief swept through her body.

"I really felt bad that day. You know, it feels like your heart is falling down... I woke up because of Dude." A grin broke through the serious tone. "He said that he was hungry and offered to have a snack. I didn't feel like sleeping anymore, so I agreed. In the morning, I didn't even remember what had happened. Considering your words, the picture is starting to take shape."

"To take shape?.."

"Yes. I can't know the exact reason, but it's not for nothing that many villains were brought back to life for the sake of being imprisoned on the Isle." Carlos smiled bitterly, closing his eyes. "Maybe no matter what I do, I'll always be a villain."

A villain. Of course. How Jane didn't figure it out before? There're almost no people left who would treat guests from the Isle badly, but after all, long-term habits aren't so easy to eradicate. To live for years in a place where you don't want to go back. To find salvation only in the company of the same unhappy children. Uma criticized Ben at the time for not fully fulfilling his intentions to study the villainous descendants in Auradon, but Jane didn't forget how many problems there were with Mal, Evie, Carlos and Jay. Local students seemed to enjoy the opportunity to mock those who didn't really touch others. And, oh, horror, she was once among the abusers. A wonderful continuation of the parents came out of them. Her own birthday came under the hot hand of Audrey, who decided to join the other side. But the girl didn't want to look for the culprits, although Ben apologized for a very long time when everything was resolved, and even allocated money for a new event.

"No, you're not a villain. Everyone chooses their own side." Jane finally hugged him tightly, feeling the gusts of magic subside. "But villains can also love."

"Yes... Yes, they can," the guy repeated absently. "Because I love you."

Her heart skipped a beat. The girl knew about the existence of different languages of love, and his was definitely somewhere between actions and gifts. However, he never talked about feelings just like that. Compliments were undoubtedly present, although Jane didn't believe that she deserved all of them, but declarations of love happened in the most valuable moments.

"To be honest," she said in a broken voice, "deep down I believed that this was how it should be. That I can't love, therefore... when you... as a punishment..."

"Shhh, hush." Carlos pulled away, kissed her gently on the forehead and touched her face with his palms. "If I can be a villain who loves a heroine, then you can't only create other people's stories, but also take part in your own."

"What a heroine I am... I was just doing what I had to do," Jane replied sheepishly, not looking at him.

"My heroine." His words made her skin crawl. "A heroine who also needs rest."

"Don’t go," escaped her lips. "I understand that this is very unwise, but..."

"I'm not leaving," the guy replied with a hint of a grin. "If you promise not to tell anyone about this. I don't even want to know what the Fairy Godmother will think of me."

"Mom already thinks only good things about you!"

"Everything can change!"

And so, with jokes and tears of joy, this long day ended. But it was worth waiting for its end, at least for the opportunity to fall asleep in Carlos's arms. Touch the black and white hair, look at all the freckles on the face and listen to the measured heartbeat. It was here, at this moment, that Jane felt she could trust him completely. Maybe fate really gave them a second chance at their future together? Now the girl really believed in the personal "and they lived happily ever after."

☆☆☆

Thank you for reading this fanfic. I can't help but think that these two deserve a happy ending. Just like Cameron deserved it. This is a bright, sincere star that is probably shining at us from the sky right now. Many actors spoke well of him, and this isn't surprising.