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missadangel · 2 months ago

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The Heart of Rome (Marcus Acacius x OC)

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XI. The Accusation (+18, Mature)

gif --- ayo-edebiri

“Ad astra per aspera”

To the stars though difficulties…

Villa…

"I need you to help me to kill Caracalla.”

You stared at Julia's face in astonishment, trying to make sense of what you just heard. Her dark brown eyes were serious, but you noticed something in her expression that you couldn't identify – it was somewhere between fear and unease.

"You came to my house to ask me to help you kill your son? Is that correct?”

“He is no longer my son. Macrinus has made him a mere plaything. He pretty much does whatever he wants. He had his relatives killed, without any hesitation. I can't let him kill Geta too. It's only a matter of time. I can't lose Geta.” She sounded upset when she mentioned him. "I lost everything to Macrinus. First he took my son, then my reputation. My own son won't listen to me, he sent me into exile, which is unacceptable." Her tearful voice suddenly turned serious. "I have no one left to go to but you which Acacius had a hand in this, of course.”

‘What are you sa-?’

"He wiped out my men in Legates. They were my last remaining stronghold. I did everything I could to keep them on my side for all those years. Did he tell you how he killed them? I'm sure he didn't, so as not to startle you."

You took a deep breath and tried to remain calm. "My husband doesn't hide anything from me. But even if he did, I'm sure he has his own reasons." You said confidently.

"Sure he has!" she said sarcastically.

She was testing the limits of your patience. "Cease talking nonsense about my husband!" You barked. "Simply say whatever you came to say then take your leave.”

"Fair enough.” She crossed her legs. “Caracalla must die before Macrinus returns to Rome. Before he appoint him as Praetorian prefect (commander of the Imperial Guard)." She took a deep breath. "I'm sure of that he will take action against my sons once he assumes command of the guards. This could potentially lead to him ascending the throne. However, if Caracalla dies, it might weaken Macrinus' position. It would be more feasible to defeat him when Geta is emperor.”

"And you needn't worry about being hidden away in the shadows, as it seems unlikely that Geta will exile you like his brother did? It sounds like you're saving yourself.” She averted her eyes which meant you were right. "But why do you need my help exactly?"

"I believe you care about Geta, don't you? He also cares for you in some way. Perhaps more than you realise.”

“There’s nothing—“

You were about to protest, but she silenced you by raising her hand. “I am his mother, so I know him well and I know you don't wish him dead too. Besides, it would be better for everyone if he rules Rome alone. So Caracalla must die as soon as possible before harms him. You're a medicus, aren't you? You could make a concoction of herbs that will kill him painlessly.”

Her words were sharp, but her gaze was unwavering, declaring that this was the path she had to take. But it was still strange that she said it so easily. It felt wrong.

"I wouldn't have come to you if I didn't have to. It's only a matter of time before he finds out, accuse me of betrayal, and send me back. This is our sole opportunity before Macrinus's return."

‘Our? There is no ‘our’, there is no we. Furthermore, it is not a decision that can be made alone. You present this as an easy solution, but I am a married woman and my husband is a Roman general. What will happen to my husband if your plan fails? Have you ever considered this?”

She rolled her eyes. “Isn't that why you should help me? Once he's dealt with my sons, Macrinus' next target is General Acacius. To get you.” You knew exactly what she meant and she realized that. "I imagine your husband feels very regretful about not taking Macrinus out that night. Because I know he won't let him get away with it.”

You swallowed hard, hating to admit that she was right. Julia smiled, seeming amused by your expression. "Oh, poor Aurelia. It must be tough to be caught between three men. Yet you are fortunate. Even if you were to become a widow one day, there'd be another man waiting for you. Since you're a Roman princess, you're worth a great deal.”

That was the last straw. You felt a rush of anger and stood up abruptly. “Get out of my house now! Leave!” You barked, pointing your finger at the courtyard door. Julia stood up, looking insolent.

“If you truly care about Geta, think about what I said.”

“I said leave!” You shouted, then pointing your finger at her. “I'm warning you, don't you ever speak ill of my husband and don't come to my house again!”

Some of the slaves rushed towards you.

“Domina!”

“Escort Lady Domna outside.” You said sharply.

Julia gave you a stern look and turned away. She raised her hand to stop the slave who was approaching her. Then she left the courtyard. You were still pretty angry and tired, which made your head spin even more. Decima put her arm around you and made you sit on the lectus (couch). She grabbed your feet and gently lifted them, helping you lie down. Norell and Tullia were keeping an eye on you from a distance, looking a bit worried. You looked them with a half smile and told them to get on with their work. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes. Decima took your hand.

"Would you like me to make you some dittany tea (cretan thyme)?" It was an herb that was usually used for relaxation. Decima was from Egypt, so she was familiar with herbal teas. Well, not as familiar as you are, of course.

You looked at her. "Not that, not if I'm..." you said quietly.

"Oh, you're right. Chamomile then?”

"Yes, that's better. Thank you my dear.”

After drinking your chamomile tea, you fell asleep in the courtyard. The slaves were mindful of your need for rest and made every effort to avoid disturbing you. Those who walked towards the courtyard did so as quietly as they could. Then Mau appeared and jumped next to you. However, you were so deeply asleep that you were unaware that she had fallen asleep on your lap. You were suddenly awakened by the sound of a sword being unsheathed and a man shouting. Mau meowed loudly, jumped out of your lap in fright and sought refuge elsewhere.

Seeing Octavius holding his sword to a man's throat who you had never seen before. Opened your eyes in surprise.

“Sir! Have mercy please!” He begged. You noticed some parchment papers and a reed pen in his hand.

You sat up on the couch. “Octavius, what is happening here?”

"My lady, this rat was attempting to draw your likeness without your permission."

You were taken aback. "Can you clarify what you mean by that?”

Decima turned to you. "This man came for the General, but we informed him that he was not present. I then assumed that he had departed. Forgive me, my lady.”

Your eyesbrows rose. “You came to draw my husband?”

The man swallowed. Octavius shook him. “Lady Aurelia asked you a question. Speak, thief!”

You warned him, “Octavius, please put that sword away and allow the man to speak.”

He obeyed. The man stood up ad bowed. “Yes, my lady. Aventine cloth dyers association are paying me to do a mural of General Acacius and the tiger he fought in the arena, my lady.”

“Explain yourself. Why would they do that?” Octavius barked.

“He’s famous, sir, the city, all the Roman citizens likes him. He’s a hero.”

You smiled, and he was indeed a hero to you. You picked up the fallen scrolls and took a moment to examine them. He had painted you so well, even the mau in your lap, which you found quite remarkable.

"But you drew me, his wife," you murmured.

"My lady, allow me to beat this insolent rat to death," Octavius hissed. The man shuddered with fear.

"Please, sir. Leave him alone," you said, a little harshly.

"My lady, forgive me. You were so beautiful when you slept that I was overcome with admiration and wanted to draw your likeness.”

You felt your cheeks flush involuntarily.

“How dare you!” Octavius roared.

“Calm yourself, sir.” You gave Octavius a warning look. You stood up and approached the man. “Please rise.”

The man stood up looking a little ashamed.

“I'll tell my husband you came by. You are well talented, I liked your drawing,” you said, showing him the parchment. “May I keep this?”

He looked at you and gave you a big, warm smile. "It's already yours, my lady. I'm really pleased you think so.

You glanced at Octavius, who seemed to be losing patience. Then you looked at the man. “You may yet leave now.”

The man bowed his head and gave you a shy look, then turned and walked out of the courtyard. Octavius accompanied him outside. You and Decima studied the painting the artist had created. She then enquired as to whether she might bring you something to eat, and with your approval, she departed. It would seem that Mau was hungry when she returned to you, as she rubbed her tail against your leg. She meowed loudly when she saw Norell approaching you a moment later with a tray in her hands.

"Where's Decima? I thought she was supposed to bring the food.

You noticed that Norell's cheeks flushed. "Well, my lady, she had some more work to do in the kitchen."

"Is she all right?"

She nodded, but her freckled cheeks were still red. You grabbed her wrist as her furtive look and tone of voice made you wonder what she was hiding. "Tell me, what's going on?"

"Um, Decima. She took food to Sir Octavius." She averted her eyes from you and smiled in a way that seemed a little evasive. You blinked in surprise and then laughed.

“Oh, well, well,” you said, amused. “When these two have become so close?"

Norell chuckled. "It has been a while now. She often speaks of him."

You giggled. "Where might they be now?"

She turned her head towards the courtyard. “Over there.”

"Perhaps we could go and take a quick look at them," you suggested, with a hint of mischief in your voice.

Norell let out a soft laugh and followed you behind. The slave at the door was about to speak to you but you silenced him by putting your index finger to your lips.

You and Norell peered out of the door, observed Octavius and Decima by the stables, talking, smiling at each other. The slave at the door looked at them from behind you and grinned too.

As you watched them from a distance you recognized a familiar feeling in the way they looked at each other, love.

"My dear Decima," you murmured, sharing her happiness.

Norell sighed deeply. "I hope that one day I will be in love too.”

You heard the other slave sigh and you both looked at him with surprise. He bowed his head shyly.

“Domina? My lady?”

All three of you were startled by Tullia's loud voice. Decima had heard it too, and when she turned her head towards you three. You blushed and hurried inside.

“Tullia! Why are you shouting?” you snapped.

“Oh, forgive me. I thought…”

You and Norell had laughed loudly running towards the other courtyard. Tullia was looking at you, a bit confused. Decima came into the courtyard and made her way towards your voices.

“My lady?” She then looked at Norell in a rather angry way.

“I didn't say anything,” she said, holding up her hands.

"Come now, why are you keeping this from me?" you smiled at her.

Decima blushed.

“You're already sooo obvious.” Norell said smugly.

“What did you say?” Decima frowned and approached her and Norell turned around to run away. They ran into the courtyard and you followed. Decima cupped water from the fountain and threw it at her. Norell also did the same. They began to soak each other, laughing together. Norell ran towards you, intending to hide, but as Decima attempted to throw water at her again, the water hit you in the face, and you flinched when you felt the cold water on your skin.

“Gods!” Tulla cried out. She ran towards you. “My lady, are you alright? Look what you've done! Cease this nonsense now!” She yelled at them.

Mau had also got her share of a soaking, licking herself like mad to dry. Decima and Norell were looking at you with guilty looks on their faces. But you, far from being angry, approached them with a serious expression and cupped the water from the fountain and threw in their faces. And a fun game began between the three of you. Tullia's grunts mixed with your laughter and echoed throughout the courtyard.

By the time the general arrived, you were still engaged in your game. Octavius was observing you at the door, perhaps not fully aware of his surroundings. Marcus heard the loud, cheerful laughter and dismounted, heading for the courtyard with curiosity. He looked where Octavius was looking and was struck by the difference between this view and the one he saw every time he returned home. It was unlike anything he had ever seen before. He was at a loss as to how to react. He smiled as he recognized your cheerful laughter. Then he looked at Octavius, who looked like he was stunned.

“What are you looking at?” he yelled.

Octavius startled with his loud voice. “Sir!”

“You may leave Octavius,” he grumbled. How dare he watch my wife? he thought. Well actually he was watching someone else but still.

You all froze when you noticed him. Decima and Norell bowed to him and made their way away from the situation as quickly as they could.

“I'll get you some dry clothes, my lady,” Tullia said and ran out of the courtyard.

How great. They all left you alone with Marcus. He regarded you with interest as he approached. The stone floor was quite wet, as were your dress. You bit your lip, uncertain of his reaction. Fortunately, a smile soon appeared on his face, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

"I must apologise for not realising your arrival."

"No need to apologise, my love. There is nothing quite like coming home and hearing your cheerful laugh, which is music to my ears."

You had a sudden sneeze. It wasn't the most romantic answer. Marcus chuckled. “My Lady. You’re all soaked."

Before long, Tullia appeared with a clean dress and the cotton cloth to drying yourself. "If I may, my lady-“

“Give that to me.” Marcus kindly took the cloth from her hand and wrapped it around you. Upon seeing your feet, you instinctively drew them back, as if to hide them. You hadn't realised how wet they were. He smiled and gently took you in his arms, which made your cheeks flush. After all, Tullia was following you behind, carrying your dry clothes in her hands.

Your hand was touching the golden-edged leather strips on his shoulder. Playing with them by running your fingers between each strip. He smiled in response. Once you had entered the room, Marcus set you down. Tullia then placed the dry clothes she had brought for you on the bed, leaving the two of you alone in the room.

"Allow me," you said as you reached for Marcus' armour, but he gently pushed your hands back.

"You first. I do love seeing you like this, but I'm afraid you might catch a chill." His eyes were roaming over your body.

You held his hands and placed them around your waist. “Maybe you could warm me up then?” You smiled naughtily.

He smirked and his hands were already undressing you with haste. Once he had removed your belt and your damp stola, his eyes lingered on the tunic that clung to your body. You were now very aware of the reason for the sudden change in his eyes. That his gentle hands would soon become more impetuous. Even before you reached for the holster on his waist, his lips found yours. His hands were trying to remove your long tunic and you were trying to remove his armour, but it was difficult. When your wet tunic fell to the floor and gathered around your feet, Marcus pushed it aside with his foot, never breaking the kiss. You couldn't tell him to take off his armour because your lips were completely captivated by his. Grabbing you by the hips, he picked you up and put you on the edge of bed. You pulled yourself back with all your might, kneeling on the bed. His armour touching your wet and naked body was a little strange, although seductive. Marcus thought you were playing a game, so he tightened his grip on your lips, not allowing you to break the kiss. But as he tried to come towards you, putting his knee on the bed, the sword at his holster hit the edge. He looked down at himself in surprise and laughed.

“I tried to tell you,” you laughed and helped him out of his armour.

“I must have been under your spell, princess.” He grinned.

Once he'd taken off his armour, Marcus grabbed you around the waist and laid you back on the bed. You couldn't believe how excited you became each time, as if it was the first time he'd ever laid you down and positioned himself on top of you. Moreover, how could it be that each touch of his lips to yours felt so different from the other? It really amazed you that such a simple touch could evoke such strong feelings. Perhaps it was the endless blending of pleasures that this strong bond between you bestowed upon you. What a treat, what a magnificent and wonderful feeling. His lips and tongue were exploring every inch of your body as your bodies fit together perfectly, and you enjoyed one pleasure after another. It felt like there was no end to the adventure of exploring each other's bodies and their needs. Every time you encountered a new sensation and a lot of pleasure. Even Marcus, who was an expert lover, found this to be true. Despite his extensive experience, he had never made love to anyone before you, not even once. It was more than a sexual fulfilment. It satisfies his soul too, as he inhales your scent, touches you, tastes you, he feels complete, he feels alive. To him, you were made for him. The moment you got into his heart, everything lost its meaning; you and all the other insignificant things. You were born into his life like the sun into a dark, war-torn, blood-stained, boring, lonely world. You brought him light and purpose. From now on, he would live to serve you, to make you happy, to protect you from all evil. With you by his side, he was more likely to put his duties for Rome second.

“Marcus,” you moaned. He bent his head and kissed your lips, where you said his name. He didn't want to hear his name from anyone else's lips; only you had to say it, the others not allowed. They couldn't say it like you anyway. It wasn't even a possibility.

“What do you wish me to do, my love?” He whispered in your ear. His lips were caressing your earlobe.

You kissed his cheek and pulled his head towards you with your hands in his hair, it was your turn to whisper in his ear. “You know already.”

He grinned, of course he knew. His big hands gripped your hips tightly, deepening his thrusts and quickening his pace. As you moaned in response, he kissed you. Not to silence you, but to feel your beautiful voice within his very own mouth. Soon together you reached the overwhelming end of your pleasure, moaning into his mouth for the one last time. You remained in that intimate position for a while, breathing heavily. Feeling each other's hearts beating against your chests under your palms. Savoring this glorious moment.

The bright sunshine streamed through the window, illuminating the room with a warm glow. The soft breeze from the balcony caressed your still damp hair, causing you to shiver slightly and pull the sheet over your shoulders. When you heard the swallows chirping, you decided to open your eyes. Marcus wasn't with you in the bed. You frowned and sat up.

“Morning my beautiful wife.”

You turned your head towards his voice. Marcus was at his desk, looking pretty busy with a quill pen and some papers.

“Morning.” You gave him a smile. “Did I sleep for too long again?”

“Just a little,” he replied turning his head back down to continue writing something on the paper. You got up and put on your tunic. However, you then felt nauseous again.

“Excuse me,” you said covering your mouth with hand. Hurried out of the room. Marcus put his quill pen down on the table and stood up. He walked out of the room and followed you into the latrina, waiting outside the door.

"Aurelia, my love. I'm rather concerned."

As you stepped out of the latrina, he put his arms around you.

“Maybe I should call for another medicus?’

"I don't think that is necessary," you said as you walked back to the room together.Marcus helped you to sit on the edge of the bed. He crouched down in front of you, his hands gently smoothing your dishevelled hair.

"You said that you might get better if you rested. However, I can see you're still not feeling well." His face showed concern.

"I'm actually feeling better today." You mumbled. It wasn't a complete lie. The nausea wasn't as bad as it had been the day before. You felt you had no complaints, knowing what was causing this feeling. Marcus lifted your chin up with his hand. You didn't want to tell him before you were certain, but he was so concerned. He needed to know.

"I sense you're hiding something from me.”

You looked at him, blinking your eyes and inhaling a deep breath. "Marcus, I, um. I wasn't sure if I should tell you until I was certain..."

He looked at you from under his eyebrows. "Continue."

You took his hands in yours and looked into his eyes. "I believe I'm with child.”

Marcus froze. His eyes widened in surprise, his pupils dilated. Then the most marvellous smile appeared on his face. He kissed your lips, and his heart overflowed with bliss. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling towards him. He buried his face between your breasts, then slid it to your belly, planting kisses along the way. You felt his lips on your belly.

"What have I done to deserve you?"

“It might be too early to say for sure. Perhaps we should wait a little longer-“

His lips found yours suddenly. He put his knee on the edge of the bed next to yours and laid you back down. You wrapped your arms around his neck. Without breaking the kiss, he settled right next to you on the bed. He put one hand on your belly.

“My beautiful Aurelia,” he purred. “I love you, with all my heart and all my soul.” His warm breath caressed your face, your heart blossomed.

“I love you, Marcus. I love you much more than words can ever say.” You touched his cheek with your fingers. “I hope that I am carrying your child.”

“Our child.” he corrected you.

You smiled. “Our child,” you repeated.

He kissed you again, your heart beat with bliss, which soon turns into desire. “I shall spend all my days with you." He said huskily as his hands lifted up the hem of your tunic. “I shall spend all my time making love to you, over and over until our bodies become one.” His lips found yours again and soon turned into a hungry, lustful kiss. As he slid into your shaking body, and you moaned with exultation. This was love. This was blessing. Elysium on Earth.

Over the next few days, you tried a series of tests to find out whether you were carrying a child or not.One of the tests was a common one in Rome and Egypt. All you had to do was urinate in two different bags; one filled with barley and the other with wheat. If the grain in either bag sprouted after being peed on, it meant the woman was definitely with child.As it turned out, they were right. You saw the barley sprouting within a few days, and the wheat took a little longer. Decima said that meant you were carrying a boy. That's how you felt, they said it was a maternal instinct. You never thought of yourself as a mother, at least not this early. But it was indescribable happiness. Marcus was treating you with more tenderness than ever. You were delighted to be the cause of this amazing man having such wonderful feelings. It was a pleasure to see him so cheerful, and the others in the villa were equally pleased to share in his joy.

During this time, Marcus had been closely involved in the training of the soldiers at the Campus Martius (Fields of Mars) just outside the city. Macrinus had been absent for over a week and it was to be expected that he would soon reach Libya. As the general of the army, it was his duty to be prepared for any eventuality and to train his troops accordingly. No matter how busy he was, no matter how late he came home at night, at the end of the day, you found him in bed snuggled between your breasts and legs. You never complained as you wanted him so much as ever thanks to changes of your body that had led to heightened sexual desire.

That morning, when you were helping Marcus put on his armour, you mentioned Julia. It seems she was pretty desperate, even talking to him about Caracalla too.

"Geta is keeping her hidden," Marcus said as he checked the strings on his armbands, "It's likely that Caracalla will eventually find her. She may have a point about Caracalla being prepared to assign Macrinus as Praetorian prefect. However, he will need to return to accept it. I must finish him before he arrives in Rome." He said with determination.

"I suppose he will return soon, then?”

"He must be. I'm waiting for the messenger pigeon to come back. If the legion commander in Libya confirms he's arrived, I'll make the necessary preparations."

You swallowed, feeling concerned by the fact that he was about to fight Macrinus again. Marcus took your face in his hands.

"Please, do not be concerned, my lady. I gave you my word that you won't lose me."

You nodded. "You do what you need to do, my love."

"I will. For you." He put his hand on your belly. "For our child. I will do whatever it takes to make sure he grows up in a safe Rome, and with other Roman children.”

“I am certain you will.” You embraced him and rested your head on his chest, running your fingers through the contours of the medusa.

“Speaking of children,” Marcus said. You lifted your head to look at him.

“Hmm?”

“All the kids at the Poorhouse and the people there.” He murmured.

“I haven't been to visit them in ages. What about them?”

"You don't have to go. Please don't tire yourself out. I want you to stay here and get some rest. Besides, It seems that Geta is already looking after them in your absence."

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “Really?”

"Yes, that does astonish me too. I find it unusual that he would spend his coins on something like that."

"He said he would, but I must admit I didn't expect him to keep his promise."

"You might be right about him. Maybe he could be a better emperor.’ You sensed the sincerity of his tone. "However, I tend to agree with Julia about Caracalla." He said, his face suddenly serious. "Every moment he breathes is detrimental to Rome.”

"Julia almost begged me to poison him."

He was checking his sword carefully. "No, that's treacherous. Even for him. He is an emperor, after all. It must be done honorably."

You felt tense. Or was he planning to act soon? He never mentioned it though.

He put his sword in its holster. "Enough politics, I think." He smiled. "I must take my leave now, my lady.”

For some reason, you felt a sudden sense of unease. "Will you be on duty at the Field of Mars today too?"

"That's correct," he replied after adjusting his armour for the last time. "Please don't engage in any risky things during my absence." He said in a commanding tone.

“I'll be making herbal tea, too dangerous,” you said mockingly.

He gave a little laugh and kissed your temple before leaving the room. As you followed him outside, you realised that the uneasy feeling inside you was getting worse. Maybe it was an unnecessary consequence of your new situation: worrying too much about everything. Marcus looked back at you one last time before heading out. You gave him a smile and then he left.

You made your way downstairs to the girls. You had little chat while they were engaged in weaving the carpet. There wasn't much else to do for the rest of the day, except lie down and rest. You visited Unio to feed her and brush her pearly-white mane with your fingers. Marcus had forbidden you to ride, not until the birth. He'd also told you not to go to the poorhouse, and you'd had to obey him on that one too. In the last few days you had become a little better with your knife and Marcus had admired you for it for the first time. But your overly anxious husband didn't want you to pick it up for a while either. Why did carrying a child have to be so boring?

In the evening, you were feeding Mau. Then you heard footsteps approaching from the courtyard.

"Domina!" The slave boy came running to you. He had that look on his face again, hesitation.

"What is it now?"

"The Emperor." He mumbled.

"Sister!"

You were quite taken aback to see Geta appear out of nowhere. He approached you and embraced you while you stared at him with your mouth hanging open.

“What are you doing here?”

Geta made a face. "Is this the manner in which you choose to greet me?"

"Well, apologies. I am simply astonished."

Geta looked around. "So this is your little house.”

You walked towards courtyard together. "Please have a seat, your majesty," you said, gesturing to him.

All eyes in the villa were on your emperor half-brother, who was seated comfortably on the armchair wearing a crown on his head and an overly flamboyant toga. You requested that the slaves bring you wine and fruit. Geta examined the wine glass and took a sip. As you observed him sitting where his mother had sat days ago, you came to recognise the differences between him and her. They were nothing alike. You were surprised that you had never realised this until now.

"It's been almost weeks, I've missed you a lot." He said suddenly. "How are you feeling now?" He looked you up and down.

"I feel better now, thank you." Your hands involuntarily went to your belly. You were unsure whether you should tell him or not. He was so unpredictable that it was difficult to guess the outcome of saying something like this to him. Perhaps it would be best to wait until your belly gets bigger before sharing.

"My mother," he suddenly said in a serious tone. You looked at him. "She's been here. I know what she told you.”

“You do?”

"As she gets older, her behaviour is getting worse. Don't take her seriously."

"Do you think so? What she said to me is something that should be taken seriously."

"You're right, it's horrible. Caracalla really has gone mad, but her intention of killing him... It's simply not right.”

"Is there something new about his madness?"

"Apart from the fact that became Macrinus' plaything? Well, he won't take me to any meetings anymore. He's got a new toy.”

“How you mean?”

"Macrinus' new right-hand man. He's like his shadow, taking care of things while he's away. I've never met him before, but my brother has already assigned him to the important tasks. I hadn't even been informed about it. Can you believe it?"

You thought about what Marcus said to you about Macrinus' spy. "Could he perhaps be one of the legates?"

"No, he's just come from the north. I don't think anyone knows him, not even the general, your husband."

"If Macrinus hid him like Gaius, I don't think he meant well."

"That's what I thought. You're clever, sister. I've missed talking to you. But not politically, of course." He grinned.

You smiled back. "You're helping your mother to hide from Caracalla, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am." He snapped, playing with his glass.

"What if he finds out?"

He shrugged. "That prick sent her without asking me, anyway." Suddenly Geta put his glass on the table and leaned towards you. "Aurelia, he's really out of control. I know Caracalla, always was, but this time it's different. He's hallucinating, dreaming, and that worries me. I know he'll hurt someone else, if not himself. Last time he nearly got me killed, all because of a stupid dream he had."

"Did you say hallucinations?”

He nodded. "I'm certain it's her. Mother. She did this to him. I gave her a clear warning, but she refused to listen. I'm asking you because you're the expert. Is it possible for a herb to have such an effect?"

“Many kinds of plants can do that. But how could Lady Domna possibly poison him?"

"Not directly of course. My slave caught her talking to another slave in the street. She is not aware, but I know everything.” He exhaled deeply. “She should never have come back, she'll get herself killed."

It was something that would endanger not only herself, but everyone including his own son Geta. How could she be so irresponsible? She must be mad for sure just like her son.

"If its on his drink or food, if I can examine it maybe I can help.”

Geta smiled smugly. “That's why I came here.”

He gestured to one of his slaves who was holding a small wooden box. Geta reached the box, opened and took out a vial filled with red liquid and handed it to you.

"Here. This is a sample of the wine he drank yesterday. Will that be enough?"

You took it, uncorked it and sniffed. As you were already highly sensitive to smells, this one smelled completely wrong.

"Yes, I think this would be enough. Let me observe this first.”

"You do that. I must return now. I don't want him to realize I left the palace and came here. He's rather mad and unpredictable more than ever." He stood up and put his hands on your shoulders. "If you happen to find out what it is, send me word. I'll send one of the slaves here. It seems that I can no longer trust my own guards. He is about to place them all under the control of Macrinus' rat."

You nodded. "I will see what I can do, brother."

Suddenly he leaned in, wrapping his arms around you. You tried to pull back, but it was futile.

“Geta,” you hissed. “You should not touch me like this. Please-“

“What's wrong with embracing my sister?” he said arrogantly.

You couldn't help but feel that he was right, but it still felt a little awkward. He laughed at the look on your face and leaned his head down to kiss your cheek. "Take care of yourself, sister. Hope I'll see you soon," he said, with a wink, and left the courtyard with his slaves following him behind.

Campus Martius. (Field of Mars).

General Acacius arrived there after completing his other duties at the barracks. The layout of this place is reminiscent of an army camp, with a number of small buildings.

“Attention! The general is here!” Octavius barked at the soldiers. They immediately stood at attention.

Acacius' eyes were fixed on the recruits. Some of them were pretty clumsy. He jumped down from his horse, squinting at them.

"Chin up! Chest out! Shoulders back! Suck your stomach in!” Octavius commanded, touching their shoulders to ensure they were doing it right. Then he ran to Acacius' side as he approached them. "Sir!" he nodded to him.

"Sir Octavius, these soldiers are struggling to get in line properly! This is how you train them?” he yelled at him.

That's what being a Roman General entailed, after all. Keeping an eye on the rookies and their commanders, supervising his second-in-command, training all the soldiers to keep the army ready for anything, constantly meeting with the Legates to assess the situation. Keeping track of the legions abroad was undoubtedly the hardest task. The army pigeon was the most efficient way to communicate. A trained pigeon could deliver a message in two or three days, whereas a soldier would take months to do the same.

He looked the soldiers in the face as he passed, tapping some on the shoulder to make sure they were properly in line. The soldiers saluted him by putting their hands on their chests. Some of them looked nervous.

“At ease!” Marcus shouted and the soldiers got into a relaxed position to continue their training.

Octavius walked with him towards the building where the Genaral's room was located. Cato was there, waiting for him outside his room. He saluted him.

“Cato, why you are not with the recruits?’’

"Sir, I wanted to let you know that the pigeon has arrived. I have placed it in its cage and I am waiting here to ensure its safety." He said it in a very serious manner.

Octavius chuckled. Marcus grinned.

“Are you thinking what I'm thinking?” Marcus asked him. They were both looking at Cato.

“I believe this prick using the bird as an excuse to avoid training.”

Cato opened his eyes wide. “Never, sir!”

"Who gave you permisson to talk back?" Marcus shouted at him. "Now get out of my sight before I train you myself!"

“Yes, sir!”

Marcus and Octavius laughed after he hurriedly picked up his sword and rushed out. "This boy is really...” He murmured.

"He's been working really hard lately," Octavius said, opened the door and waited for Marcus to enter.

“Do you believe so?” He entered the room and sitting down in his chair and putting his sword on the desk.

"I think he's ready for the platoon training. If you agree.”

Marcus opened the lid of the cage and took the small sealed paper tied to the pigeon's foot. "I still don't think he's ready. He must to learn to overcome his hesitation first." The seal belonged to the Eighth Legion. It was stationed in Leptis Magna, a likely place for Macrinus to visit. Marcus lifted the seal and opened the thin paper.

“My dear friend, the esteemed General Acacius. I Caius Drusus commander of eighth legion, salute you! I have dispatched my men to the harbour of Alexandria as you ordered, however both ships that came from Rome brought only armoury and provisions. Sir Macrinus or his men were not among those who disembarked. Also, we have received word of a few men gathering in the Syrian sector, which may be in line with your suspicions. We await your orders. Rome Victrix!”

Marcus crumpled the paper in his fist and squeezed it. Octavius figured it was bad news.

“Sir? What does it say?”

Marcus slammed his hand down hard on the desk, his whole body filled with anger. “Damn you Macrinus!”

Marcus found himself somewhat perplexed. He was certain that Macrinus was on his way to Ostia and that the ship was waiting for him there. But why hadn't he been seen in the harbour? Octavius picked up the paper he had crumpled up and read it with curiosity.

“How can this be?" He put his hands on the desk and looked at him. Or maybe he never actually left? Did he play a trick on us?"

Marcus was mulling it over. Why would he do that? What was he trying to act? He was such a clever enemy that he never gave away his trail. For Marcus, fighting was simple. It was easy to move your sword according to your enemies movement and cut him down. But playing mind games was tough. It was exhausting to think like your enemy, to anticipate his next move, to always try to be one step ahead of him. Especially when the enemy was someone who had the emperor in the palm of his hand. Could he be seeking retaliation? Or had he never left Rome? Marcus exhaled nervously.

“Octavius, I want you to place two men outside the villa.” He ordered, turning to him. “Is Felix still on Palatine Hill?”

"Yes, sir. He's positioned there as you ordered." He'll let me know if anything arises.

Marcus put his hand to his face, closed his eyes and sighed again. “We're missing something, Octavius.”

“What could it be, sir?”

“I'm not certain yet. But I'll find out. Make sure all the men are gathered in our usual place tomorrow night, in incognito. We shall talk over. Now leave me alone.”

“Yes sir,” he said and left the room.

Villa…

You had been studying the wine residue that Geta had brought you for most of the day, with the help of Decima and Norell. Despite making a few mistakes and experiencing a few setbacks, you eventually managed to identify the substance as the fruit of the Red Shanglu plant (Phytolacca acinosa). Given its red colour, it was a logical that it would blend well with wine.

“Why doesn't it kill him immediately?” Decima asked. She shook the vial in her hand.

"It's not a particularly poisonous plant. Or maybe the person who made it is inexperienced with it. However, even the smallest amount could cause brain damage. That's more dangerous than death,” you muttered.”

“What kind of fruit is this? Can we find it around here?” Norell asked.

“No, unfortunately not. It's probably a fruit from China or somewhere nearby.”

“Didn't the Empress come here from Syria?” Decima asked.

“Damascus is frequented by Chinese traders, couldn't she have brought it from there?”

“That is true.” When you were in Egypt,your uncle had purchased a number of plants from traders who came from Damascus to Alexandria. This was not an auspicious sign. It would be very difficult to create an antidote without the plant itself.

“So what are you going to do?” Norell asked.

“I need to to speak with Geta. I must inform him of this."

“But the soldiers outside, won't let you.” Decima murmured.

Right. Two of Marcus's men arrived at noon for some reason. You were certain that if you went with them to Geta, there would be tension between those two again. Moreover, it was already dark, and he must be on his way back.

You opened your small leather notebook to review the notes you had taken earlier and consulted the description of this plant. From what you can gather from your notes, it seems that reversing it is not an option. However, there was another fruit that could potentially help to mitigate and cure it. Acorus gramineus (commonly known as Japanese sweet flag). Of course. How you didn’t think of that? You recalled your Uncle Vicius with respect and found that his teachings had proved useful to you in your life. You promptly rose to your feet and took a moment to survey the shelves. This plant is a common genus used in Rome and other regions. You attempted to reach for the jar at the top of the shelves, but it was out of reach. You rose on tiptoe and reached as far as you could. Before Decima had a chance to get up and come over to help, another hand suddenly appeared and grasped the jar.

"I did warn you not to do anything dangerous, didn't I?” Suddenly Marcus appeared next to you.

You looked at him in surprise. When had he arrived? The girls greeted him and left the room. "Jars are now a source of danger to you, General?" You teased, took the jar from his hand and put it on the table.

Marcus smiled and approached you, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He planted a tender kiss on your hair and breathed you in, finding your ear. “I missed you.” Then he kissed your cheeks, your nose and your forehead, making you giggle. Then he turned you to him and kissed you on the lips before you could even open your mouth to answer.

“I missed you too, my handsome husband.”

He chuckled and looked at the vials, herbs on the table. "It looks like you had as busy a day as I did.”

You took a deep breath. “I guess I did."

He put a hand under your chin and turned your head towards him. His eyes were already filled with curiosity. "Something has happened. Tell me."

You put your hands on his shoulders. "Geta was here."

He raised his eyebrows. "Your Emperor half-brother Geta?”

“I know no other Geta,” you laughed. But he didn’t.

““What did he want? Why did he come?” He asked in a rather stern tone. Just hearing his name was enough to make him angry. You place your hands on either side of his face. It had an instant calming effect on him, his expression softened immediately.

“You've just arrived, my love, you must be tired. We can talk while we eat."

You picked up a jar of jasmine from one of the shelves.

"I'll put it in our room, it smells nice and has a calming effect."

Marcus put the jar back and grasped your wrist. "There's no need, my love. Your smell is much nicer, and it's the only thing that can calm me down." He led you out of the room.

Once you had entered the courtyard, you requested that Tullia bring the food and walked to your room. Before heading for the stairs, Marcus stopped when he noticed Octavius and Decima talking.

“Why is he still here?”

You chuckled. He looked at you with questioning eyes. You grabbed his muscular arm. It was your turn to tug. “Come now, leave them be.”

“I now understand why he has been distracted lately.” He grunted as he climbed the stairs with you.

“Please don't be angry with him."

“I'm not. But I need to talk to him later.” He said after entering the room.

Your food was brought into the room while you helped Marcus take off his armor. As usual, Marcus sat you on his lap while eating.

"You know, I'm not sure if I'll be able to fit on your lap when my belly gets so big," you said as he fed you a grape.

“Nonsense. There's plenty of room for both of you on my lap," he said, opening his arms. You tilted your head to the side and snuggled into his chest. "As a matter of fact, I can hold three, four, five, or even more," he added, eating his food. You lifted your head to look at his face. "What are you going to do with so many children, General?" you asked, opening your eyes wide.

“I'm going to raise my own army,” he said, laughing.

You laughed too. “Since you are so lascivious husband, it is quite possible.”

“Is it just me? You are too, my sweet wife.”

Your cheeks flushed. “You made me,” you touched his shoulder with yours.

He bent his head and kissed your shoulder. “Pleasure is all mine, my lady.”

“Well, I didn't say I was grateful.” You teased.

As soon as you said that, he looked at you differently. You locked eyes. The atmosphere in the room suddenly shifted. You were well aware of why his eyes had changed. "Then I'll take you in such a way that you'll be eternally grateful." He bent down and kissed you passionately on the lips. His kiss became more intense as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He put his hands in your hair and drank so deeply from your mouth that you almost forgot how to breathe. But you wanted so desperately that you never wanted him to stop. Even more so now, you wanted him more than you ever had, and he seemed to be quite pleased about it. Marcus helped you lie back against his arm. He pulled the hem of your tunic up your legs and pulled you back onto his lap. As he slid the straps of the tunic down your shoulders, you could feel him getting impatient under your hips. When his lips slid to your neck, you threw your head back to gasp for air. But then you gasped again as he started to play with your already very sensitive breasts. Just the touch of his warm tongue made you feel like it was going to send you over the edge.

“Hmm your breasts are so responsive than ever my love."

You were sure your cheeks were redder than wine. “It's simply expecting for this phase,” you said breathlessly. Your impatient fingers ran through his hair. You were eager for him to take you now.

“It only adds to your beauty. You are so beautiful to be real,” he said huskily. You kissed his neck in response. He grabbed you by the hips, lifted you up and laid you on the bed. Soon he was on top of you. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pulled him to you. Or rather, you tried. He chuckled. “You are very impatient for someone who is not grateful, princess?”

You sighed. “I apologise, I shouldn't have said that. I'm so grateful, please, Marcus.” You squirmed desperately. It was one of your lustful husband's favorite moments. “Please what, my love?” He put his knee between your legs as slowly as he could.

"I want you," you purred.

His lips were on your earlobe, and the feel of his hot breath on your neck made you shudder.

"You want me where?" He teased. His fingers caressed your nipples, his glorious length brushing against your entrance which driving you mad.

"I want you inside me, please," you whimpered.

He smiled wide, like he won a victory. “I shall fulfill my princess’ desire.” And there he was, right where you wanted him most. You felt like you were going to explode with happiness and break into little pieces. You felt proud of yourself for making progress and getting to this point. Now you both knew each other's bodies and desires well. It was a progress you didn't expect from yourself, and it wasn't difficult at all. Everything was easier with him. Desiring him, kissing him, feeling his skin under your fingers – it was like a need for life. You needed him. You needed him inside you, on your skin, in the air you breathed, everywhere. With him, everything was beautiful and complete. Without him, everything was missing and lost. With him, you felt alive.

"I'm afraid I may be a little late tonight,” Marcus said as you tied the strings on his armbands. ”You'll keep your promise, won't you?”

Oh yes, your promise to him. After a lengthy discussion, he agreed to your proposal of preparing the herbal mixture for Caracalla, but he would prefer you to remain at the villa for the time being.

“I've positioned one of my men near Palatine Hill. One of the soldiers waiting outside will deliver it to him. So there's no need for you to go there," he said in a commanding tone.

You nodded. “I shall do whatever my husband says.”

A broad smile spread across his face. He wrapped his arms around you. “Say it again.”

You giggled. “I'll do whatever my husband says.”

“My ears have been blessed.” He pulled you to him and kissed you on the lips. He then sighed breaking the kiss. “I'm afraid I must take my leave now.”

“I know you'll come back to me eventually, so it will be easier to await for your arrival.”

He took your face in his hands. "You will wait my return, then, my lady?"

Of course you will, why did he ask such a question?

“I have waited a long time for you, Aurelia,” he said in his velvet voice. His expression was severe, the brown of his eyes warm, intense. “How could I not come back to you?” He kissed you on the temple. He grabbed a few strands of your hair, burried his nose in them inhaling your scent. You rose on tiptoes and kissed him with all the warmth of a woman in love. And he returned your kiss with all the joy and happiness of a man in love. If only Cato hadn't knocked on the door at that moment, you might have stayed there till night.

Once Marcus had left, you went downstairs to your little clinic-like room to make the herbal mixture. With the help of the girls, you managed to do it in less time than you expected. You did as Marcus told you and handed a vial of the mixture to one of the soldiers who were positioned outside the villa. He mounted his horse and headed to Palatine Hill.

As you sat with the girls until the evening, you found yourself feeling that strange sense of unease you had yesterday. It was just like that dream you had a few weeks ago. No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you couldn't. And it didn't seem to go away until Marcus came back.

It was just after midnight and you were lying in bed playing with your wedding ring. Mau was sleeping peacefully next to you. But unlike her, you were far away from feeling peaceful. You couldn't sleep without seeing him return to you. Soon, however, you heard some horses neighing and murmuring, and your body filled with excitement. You quickly got out of bed. You wrapped your shawl around yourself and left the room, heading for the stairs. But you were halfway up the stairs when you saw the face of a man you didn't know. If you hadn't been holding on to the railing, you would have stumbled. One of the slaves stepped in front of the man, but he pushed him hard. From his clothes, it was clear he was one of the imperial guards. They usually kept their galea on, but not this man. At his command, five or six more soldiers entered the courtyard and all of them stood at attention. They were all dressed like imperial guards. You were wide-eyed, trying to understand what is happening, Decima ran up to you and held your hands nervously. Everyone in the villa woke up to the sounds and rushed to your side.

“You must be Princess Aurelia,” the man said, nodding then smiling weirdly at you. His eyes lingered too long on your body. You felt uncomfortable with the way he looked at you. You pulled your shawl tighter around your body. "Who do you think you are? I will not tolerate you entering my house at this time of night like a raider. I want to know who you are! Speak!"

The man laughed arrogantly. "My name is Flavius, my lady. You do not know me, but your husband does." He took a few steps towards you. "However, even if it's a very tempting idea, I am not here because of Acacius. As for your question, I am here by the command of your brother, the Emperor Caracalla. I shall take you to him."

You were both confused and afraid. "At this time of night? What is so urgent?"

"Oh, true. I forgot to mention the charges against you, forgive me." He smirked, gesturing to one of his men.

The man unfolded the scroll paper to read it aloud. "Princess Aurelia, you are under arrest by the command of the emperor. Your charges are; attempting poisoning of the Emperor himself, conspiracy behind his back, and aiding and abetting the exiled empress."

You swallowed, your heart pounding fast. It seemed likely that the ointment you had sent to Geta must have fallen into Caracalla's hands somehow. "I don't accept these charges! There must be a misunderstanding." you said.

"It doesn't really matter, my lady, I have been instructed to take you to Palatine Hill. And I will." The man came close enough to reach for your arm, but you stepped back.

"Lady Aurelia is the wife of General Acacius and also a princess. When the general returns home, they will go together to the emperor. Perhaps it would be inadvisable to take her by force, sir Flavius?” Tullia said firmly.

They knew each other? You wondered who he was.

”I remember you now. You stood up to me like this back then too. You may have aged but you're still stupid. Get out of my way at once!” Flavius barked.

Wiht Tullia's lead, the slaves and girls moving in front of you as if shielding you. The man sighed and drew his sword.

“No!” you cried.

“The Emperor's orders are final! Get out of my way or I will slay you all with my sword!”

“Do as he says!” You warned them, your voice trembling with fear. They regarded you with an uncertain expression.You held Tullia's hands. "Please, I don't want you to get hurt. I will be fine, I promise."

Then they bowed their heads and, with visible reluctance, withdrewing involuntarily.

You looked at him. “I should dress properly, first,” you said and headed for the room.

“I'm waiting, princess!” He said arrogantly.

How dare he talks to a princess like that? As soon as you walked in the room, immediately grabbed your scabbard and tied it around your ankle. You had to be prepared for anything. You put your hands on your belly, hoping everything would be fine. You put on your stola, look around the room one last time, opened the door and went out. Walked down the stairs, looking at the slaves who looked at you with concern. They were your friends, your family. You smiled at them reassuringly. The man named Flavius held out his hand to you. "My lady.”

You stepped towards outside, choosing to ignore him. Suddenly, you noticed Marcus' soldiers, who were brought to their knees with swords held at their throats by guards. "Put your swords away!" you barked them. But they looked at their commander. Flavius nodded. The men drew back their swords and sheathed them.

"General Acacius has entrusted us with the Lady Aurelia," one of the soldiers said. "We must accompany her.”

Flavius turned to him. "So that's what your General told you, eh? What if I don't let you then?"

The soldier looked at him sharply and drew his sword halfway, the sharp sound of the blade making you tense. "Then we'll have to stop you."

"No, please," you interrupted. You stopped the soldiers by raising your hands.

"My lady, please step aside. The general's orders are certain, and if we die for him, it would be an honour to do so."

Flavius laughed cruelly. “We must give him what he wants then!” He ordered to his soldiers and they all drew their swords once more. You were worried because they were outnumbered. Despite all of your objections, they began to fight. Flavius took hold of your arm and led you towards the carriage.

“Get your hands off me!” You struggled, but he was so strong. "Don't you hear me? I am your princess! You can't touch me!" You shouted at the top of your lungs but it was in vain. He made sure you were seated in the carriage and turned round. After his men killed Marcus' soldiers they mounted their horses at his command. Soon the carriage moved to take you to Palatine Hill. You couldn't stop your tears and sobs as you looked at the soldiers lying lifeless on the ground.

Marcus, where are you? you murmured as you gazed out the window, surveying the dark and gloomy streets.

A place just outside the city…

Marcus and Octavius are waiting in one of the dark streets, which is meant to be a secret meeting place. They're both wearing black cloaks. He had stationed a few of his men at key points in the city to be ready for any move Macrinus might make, and every now and then they hold a small, secret meeting in this gathering place. Secrecy was very important. It had to be late at night because it was an important matter that was only between them. But tonight there was something odd. None of his men showed up. They should have been here by now. Octavius looked down the road but didn't see anyone. They decided to wait a bit more, soon they heard footsteps coming closer. It was one of Marcus's men.

“General! Sir!” The man was out of breath. “Guards. Macrinus.”

Marcus touched his shoulder. “Easy. Breathe.” He told him. “Speak clearly. Why are you on your own?"

"Speak, Aris, what has happened?" Octavius growled.

"The imperial guards arrested all of our men and took them to Palatine Hill."

"On what grounds? What did they say?"

"Have you seen Macrinus there?" Marcus asked.

He shook his head. Suddenly there was the sound of number of horses approaching towards them and they all tensed up.

"You were followed, you fool!" Octavius hissed.

Guards quickly surrounded and circled around them. One of them looked at Marcus. It was Flavius. “Acacius, It's been too long. Strange night, isn't it?” He jumped down from his horse. Marcus looked at him, astonished.

“Flavius?” He looked him up and down. He recognised his rank by his attire. “So you've been appointed commander of the guards? I thought you were up north.”

So he was the Macrinus' shadow man. He knew exactly what he was doing, Marcus thought.

“I returned a while ago,” he took a step closer to him. “Since I have unfinished business here. With you.” His voice sharpened.

Marcus remained still.

“You killed my brother, remember? You took him from me. And for what? For screwing your wife when you're in the south?”

Marcus clenched his fists. His body was filled with rage. He was dangerously on the edge.

"I've been looking forward to this moment for quite some time, Acacius. I have been waiting for the right moment to take what you have from you when you feel happy.”

Marcus grasped hilt of his sword. Octavius and Aris were ready, waiting for his command.

"So Macrinus made you his commander? Is this how you plan to get revenge on me?"

"He's a very clever man, I'll give him that. And he's determined to finish you, though not as determined as I am." He grinned.

"Right, so how do we do it? One on one? You and I?" Marcus drew his sword to half-length.

Flavius laughed. "You've already lost, Acacius, why should I bother?" He gestured for his man to read the emperor's order. The man unfolded the roll of paper. "General Marcus Acacius! You are under arrest by order of Emperor Caracalla! Your charges are; placing men in front of the emperor's house to spy on him, to command the armies for your own benefit, attempting to murder a member of the senate, abusing the title of general, going behind the emperor's back.”

"Right," said Flavius, coming over to him. He held his gaze. “The Emperor wants to see you. He'll be the one to decide your fate.” He approached him. “Just as he will decide your wife's fate.” He grinned with his teeth.

Marcus grabbed his throat with both hands. “What did you just say?”

The guards half-drew their swords and took up attack positions. Octavius and Aris gripped the hilt of their swords in response.

"Speak, or I'll rip your neck off!" he roared, his fingers gripping his throat tighter. Flavius seemed amused.

"Your wife, Aurelia, is a beautiful woman. I took her from the villa to Palatine Hill. I told you it was a strange night.”

Marcus punched him in the face and kicked him in the stomach, mad him fell to the ground. He then quickly drew his sword. In a flash he leapt on him and held his sharp sword to his neck. “If you say her name again, I'll cut your tongue off!” He barked. “Why did you take her there? Speak, damn you!” He was boiling with anger.

Flavius, however seemed calm. “Don’t be a fool, Acacius, if you kill me now, you'll get nothing. I'm only doing my duty.”

Unfortunately it was true, he could kill him and all the guards one by one, but that would only result in a higher charge being brought against him. Furthermore, Marcus's primary concern was you. He had to make sure you were alright, which meant he had to go to Palatine Hill with them.

Flavius ignored sharp sword pressing against his throat, laughing cruelly at him. “Revenge is a son of a whore, isn't it?”

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knoxic · 4 months ago

Text

Cycle of Greed

Azriel x reader | Lucien Vanserra x reader | p1 - p2 - p3 - p4 - p5

Summary: Reader and Lucien arrive at Day Court and go drinking. Azriel goes through some rough shit and gives Rhys and Cassian a new trauma.

wc: 6k

warnings: Alcohol, almost death experience, mentions of sex (?)

a/n: I wrote the Lucien scenes while drunk and sleepy, the next day when I went back to write I didn't remember half of it. It was a good surprise, I caught myself blushing at my own work.

After arriving at Day Court, Lucien took you to the inn where you'd be staying. Helion no doubt had a room ready for both of you, but Lucien didn't want to risk being stuck in his father's palace, not again. You understood his reasons, of course, the damage Beron had done to him was one Lucien would have to carry for the rest of his life.

The inn was cozy and entirely Day coded, embellished in white and gold. Your room was more of a flat, with a couple of bedrooms, a bathroom decorated with stained glass that reflected colorful lights, the kitchen was filled with white furniture, high arched windows allowed rays of sunlight to dance inside the living room, you could swear Lucien's skin seemed to glow with them.

Watching him in what was supposed to be one of his natural habitats was something special. Lucien had to learn how to fit into places that weren't ready to receive him in his true form, so he adapted. Although he still maintained some of his origins, the Autumn part of himself had mixed with Spring over the years, he kept some of the colors and habits, Day Court was only in his blood, hidden from everything and everyone, even himself for some time. While your wardrobe only contained Night Court clothes, Lucien had perfected his to fit into any court he had to visit.

Now adorned in white and gold, Lucien was breathtaking, striking male beauty only Helion radiated.

"When we get back, you should ask Feyre for a painting, it'll last longer." He didn't even lift his head to look at you. Your cheeks warmed, he caught you staring him up and down, but surely there was nothing wrong in admiring a friend right? Especially if said friend was Lucien, who deserved to be looked at with nothing but admiration and pride.

"Shut up." You rolled your eyes at him with no true irritation. Lucien barked out a laugh, throwing his head back, a smile curled on your lips at the sight.

"There's nothing wrong with looking," he turned his upper body back to face you, flashing you a smirk. "I even dare say I liked it."

"Gods, you're so full of yourself aren't you?!" you groaned, more at yourself for eyeing him like that. After over a century of pining over Azriel, admiring him, wanting only him, looking at another male felt weird.

You went back to your room, dropping on the bed and rethinking your decision to come. You didn't regret accompanying Lucien, but this close proximity suddenly felt strange, you shared an apartment with him for God's sake, why did you feel this way?

Being with Lucien never felt wrong before, but now it did. Because you were starting to see him as a male, not a friendly male, an insanely attractive male. When your body heated and a knot formed on your lower belly, you thought of Azriel. Not Lucien. Now you weren't sure who you'd think of when your hand drifted down your body, who you'd imagine between your legs when your eyes slipped close from pleasure.

Azriel had never left you unsatisfied, it always felt good to be with him, he knew what to do and you wouldn't deny that, and it was natural that you'd only find pleasure with him or yourself. But if he could want another female when he was still with you, then you wouldn't feel bad about wanting another male while being single.

"Did I make you uncomfortable?" Lucien asked quietly, you hadn't even heard the door opening. You lifted your head to peer at him, he kept his head down while leaning against the doorway. "It wasn't my intention."

"You didn't," your head dropped back, "I'm just thinking." It was true, but he just didn't need to know what you were thinking. Lucien hummed and you heard his steps coming closer, you had closed your eyes for a moment when his weight dropped on the bed, instead of laying on the space beside you, he opted for laying horizontally above you, being careful to not lay on your hair but still close enough.

"Of him?" You would've laughed at the situation if you weren't so mortified. You wondered if Lucien thought the same, if he felt attracted to other females after Elain.

"Can I ask you something?" As embarrassed as you were, knowing that he felt the same would make you feel better, and if he didn't, then you'd just pretend you never felt anything.

"I didn't know we had to ask for permission, Ace," he tried teasing but his voice was as tense as yours. "Of course you can." You took a moment to find the courage you needed.

"Do you– ugh," it was harder than you expected, Lucien wouldn't judge you but he'd definitely tease you for being horny, and maybe that wasn't exactly what you needed.

"Just ask it." You turned your head up slightly, he already looked down at you, seeing him look so vulnerable and open eased your worries. Lucien was your equal, no matter what, he'd stand by you and some silly lustful thoughts wouldn't push him away. Not after everything you went through together.

"Do you feel... Like, do you want–or think of other... females?" heat rose to your cheeks and ears, you averted your eyes from his but kept your head turned to the side, so you could see if he tried to hide a laugh.

"Yes." Your head snapped up, his face was as serious as you ever saw him, like it didn't bother him at all to admit it.

"Yes?!" You didn't mean to sound so shocked, you were just surprised by his lack of concern. If it didn't mean that big of a deal for him, who had a mate, then it wouldn't be for you either. "Like in a–"

"Sexual way? Yes, I think of another female." His eyes drifted away before he turned to look up, "It's easy not to think of Elain. She's my mate, and yet... I don't even feel attracted to her anymore." His mouth opened and closed, a sigh escaping him before he looked at you, his eyes pleading for something you couldn't place, "Would you think badly of me if I said she meant nothing?" You wouldn't, couldn't ever think badly of him. Elain never gave him a chance, he was completely allowed to do and think whatever he wanted now. At least he had tried.

"No," your hands twitched with the need to touch him, comfort him, "I understand." The relief in his eyes was clear, he needed reassurance.

Only a beat of a moment passed before you could stand being so far. Slowly you pushed yourself up, wiggling your head against his arm hoping he would understand what you wanted, fortunately he did, with an amused scoff Lucien lifted his arm, allowing you to push yourself higher and drop your head into his stomach. His arm dropped beside your body, his fingers brushed your own arm a couple times before he deemed it okay to rest his hand on it.

"Can I ask you something?" Hearing the same phrase you spoke to him before now really sounded weird.

"Since when do we ask for permission?" Lucien laughed, his stomach moved and your head bounced, you lifted yourself to glare at him for it and it only made him laugh harder. Before you knew it, a hot hand placed on your forehead pulled you back down, his arm dropping to your chest to hold you back from lifting again.

"Why did you ask me that?" His voice was gentle and warm, your cheeks burned at how fast your body filled with goosebumps, "Do you feel attracted to other males?" At your lack of response, his thumb caressed your cheek carefully. "It's okay if you do, it doesn't have to mean anything."

It doesn't have to mean anything.

There's something about Lucien that just soothes you, as weird as it feels to say it, his mainly nature allows you to be yourself, no hard shells. You didn't have to fight off males at bars because Lucien was there to do it for you. You didn't have to be the male. He radiated warmth and comfort.

"Come," he didn't give you a chance to respond to his latter question, the hand that wasn't on your chest gently lifted your head, "Let's go get drunk." For a brief moment his eyes settled on your body, before you could feel embarrassed under his gaze, Lucien spoke with a certain annoyance, "But it won't do with those clothes, honey."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "What's wrong with my clothes?" Even though your attire was rather simple, there wasn't anything particularly wrong or ugly about it.

"Funny, you never told me you had eye problems." The mocking smile on his face made you groan.

"Because I don't!" You yelled, sitting up so fast that your head spinned. Lucien blinked slowly, waiting for you to realize what was wrong, he only spoke when he noticed how lost you were.

"We're in Day Court, they're gonna kick us out of the bar if I take you out looking like this!" his hand gestured towards your dark clothes, "You're the perfect picture of a Night Court resident." Lucien stood up, snatching your hand and pulling you to your feet, you almost fell when he continued pulling you out of the room, towards the front door.

𓂃

When Azriel woke up for the second time, his chest hurt. A pressure he never felt before making it hard to breathe, his lungs burning as if he was drowning, the satin sheets scratched his sensitive skin. After he managed to fully open his eyes and look down at himself, he noticed red bumps on his arms and chest. When he tried to move, his whole body ached like he'd just fought the worst battle of his life. And the worst part was, he couldn't feel his wings.

In his half assed inspection, he noticed the dirty blonde hair sprawled across his sheets and he knew then that his shadows wouldn't help him. He tried to call for Elain, or anyone really, but he just ended up having a bad coughing fit. As he usually did when he couldn't or didn't want to speak, he called for Rhysand, hoping his brother would hear his desperate plea and help him.

'What's wrong?' his voice sounded annoyed but if Azrie wasn't so concerned, he'd notice how worried Rhysand actually sounded. 'Az? Answer me!'

When he woke for the third time, the room he was in wasn't his own, he recognized after a brief glance around that it was the infirmary.

"You're awake! Thank the mother..." The last part was uttered under his breath, Rhysand shot up to his feet, ruffling Azriel's hair with one hand and lightly patting his arm with the other. "I thought we'd lost you, brother."

Loud footsteps echoed through the hallway moments later, the door busted open and suddenly he was being pulled up, strong arms holding his body tightly.

"Idiot," sniffles and sobs muffled against his neck, "you scared me!" Cassian pulled back to look at him, wide and red eyes roaming over his face and body, taking in his features and wellbeing.

"What happened?" Azriel pulled back only to be taken by a different pair of arms, Rhysand nuzzled his head against his own, a shaky breath tickling his still sensitive skin.

"Madja said you had an allergic reaction, something you ate or drank or something overdosed..." Cassian spoke slowly, like the words felt weird on his tongue, "Azriel–" his breath got stuck in his throat, a choking sound filled the quiet room. Rhysand pulled back from the hug, violet eyes drifted between his two brothers, settling a while longer on Cassian. Azriel watched their silent interaction curiously.

"Az..." Rhysand called his attention, waiting for him to nod before continuing, "Your heart stopped beating."

𓂃

Shopping with Lucien was exactly how you expected. Trying on a bunch of different clothes only for him to roll his eyes and shake his head no, gesturing with a hand for you to get back inside the dressing room and try the next. You would've gotten annoyed at him if he didn't make up for his attitude.

"That's... By the Mother, Ace." He chuckled nervously, "Don't get me wrong! I mean—you're beautiful in any way, but in that... A Goddess would be outshined in your presence." You could swear the room had just turned a bit warmer and brighter at his words.

"Stop it–" you brushed him off.

"No, I mean it." That being the last dress you had to try on, Lucien got up from his seat, taking the basket with the clothes he'd approved and made his way towards you. His hand took yours gently, pulling you closer to himself, you were too busy trying to avert his gaze to notice the way he looked at you, the way he admired you. Trying to get your attention Lucien squeezed your hand, making you look up, for a moment you both just stared at each other, then he lifted your hand and made you turn slowly.

"Yeah, we're definitely taking this one." Lucien didn't give you time to be embarrassed, placing his hand on the small of your back and guiding you to the shoes section.

𓂃

"What?" His question was whispered under his breath, his sore throat made his voice rougher than it usually was.

"For a few minutes we–" Rhysand exhaled another shaky breath, "we lost you. You died." He waited for Azriel to show any reaction before caressing his mind with careful talons. Azriel allowed him with no more than just a blink.

"Az? Azriel!" Rhysand tried to shake him awake, feeling his brother's frigid skin made him recoil. "No..."

"Rhys? What's– Oh Gods, no, no, no!" Cassian pushed the High Lord aside, gathering Azriel in his arms and walking out in hurried steps. Being careful not to bang his wings, long legs or head against the door and walls.

He knew he hadn't checked Azriel's pulse or breathing, and refused to look down at his bare chest to know for sure, but he only had one thing in his mind at the moment, finding help. He would do anything to make sure his brother would live, but he knew he couldn't help him in this situation, and he also knew how Rhysand felt on death threatening occasions, so he went to the only other place that could give Azriel the type of help he needed.

Madja was always ready for anything, there was never a day or night where she wasn't able to help. Whatever it was, she always had the solution for it.

Until now.

"I am so sorry, High Lord!" she seemed as desperate as they were, "It seems his body is fighting something, he has symptoms of an allergy reaction, his organism reacted badly to something and is now trying to reject it. But I can't tell what and if I can't tell... then there's nothing I can do..." her eyes were filled with moisture, she couldn't meet anyone's gaze and wouldn't tear hers away from Azriel.

"We can't just sit here..." Cassian pondered, something came to his head and he glanced at Rhysand, noticing how he seemed to be on the verge of panic he stepped closer, "Brother, look at me! He's not going to die, you hear me?! Azriel's not going to die!" Cassian shook him, calling to him in his mind, showing him what he was thinking.

𓂃

Four drinks in and you couldn't take it anymore, it'd been so long since you've gotten drunk that you weren't sure if you knew how to handle alcohol, Lucien didn't seem like he'd stop any time soon. Now you realized how spoiled Rhysand had gotten you, unintentionally or not. You were used to his wine and the drinks at Rita's, which paled in comparison to what they had in Day. A little part of you that hadn't come out in so long, slowly slipped to the surface, new ideas about trying the rest of the unusual drinks or roaming the city trying a drink from each bar you could find filled your head.

"Didn't you like it? We can try another." Lucien tapped your arm with his fingers, bringing your attention to him.

"No, this one's fine," you took a sip of the coloured drink trying to make a point, grimacing as you did.

Lucien grinned, "Yeah? Then I'll get another–"

"No!" Your hand shot up to hold his arm when he moved to stand, his face told you you'd have to give him a good excuse if you wanted him to sit back down. You groaned and let go of him, your fingers lightly pushed the drink away. "It's not bad–Really! it isn't! It's just... I'm not used to drinks this strong." You muttered the last part, hoping he wouldn't catch.

"Sorry, what was that?" He leaned close, one of his hands cupping his ear. You rolled your eyes.

"I said, I'm not used to drinks this strong." Lucien cooed at you.

"Aw, baby! You could've told me!" the hand that cupped his ear fell to your back, gently patting and rubbing you, you waited for the moment he'd mock you, "I would've asked for a warm cup of milk–"

A loud smack echoed. Just in time for your hand to make contact with his arm, the talking and music quieted. A few faes turned to glance at you both, raised eyebrows and hushed whispers, your cheeks heated up at the embarrassment consuming you. Lucien threw his head back and barked out a laugh that had your head falling against the table with a tud, you wanted to cave a hole right there and bury yourself in it, only coming out centuries later when everyone had forgotten it, including yourself.

𓂃

"Thank you." Rhysand breathed out, after seeing some color return to Azriel's face he felt like he could properly breathe again, "Really, I'll be in debt with you for the rest of my life." Those were dangerous words for a High Lord like him, and still he pronounced them clearly, it was a promise.

"No need. You're my friend and I'm glad to help." Helion patted his arm and left after a brief nod in Cassian's direction, wanting to give them the privacy to be vulnerable. Cassian immediately took it, crossing the room and pulling Rhysand into a tight hug.

"He's okay, he's okay." He repeated. Rhys hummed against his neck in response.

Now that the worst part was over, that he was sure Azriel would live, the brutality of the situation hit him. Azriel almost died and Elain was behind it. He wondered if she knew what she did, if that was her intention from the beginning or if it was an accident. He wondered why. Even though he hated the idea, he thought she loved him, thought they loved each other, enough so that Azriel defied him. But this... this wasn't love. Her reasons to do it didn't matter.

Rhysand hated himself for failing his brother, but he hated her more. He wanted to go back to the House of Wind and make Elain pay, perhaps giving her the drug she had given Azriel and see what happened, a strong Illyrian male survived, with the right help, he wondered how a simple high fae would take it, alone.

While embraced in strong loving arms, Rhysand fantasized about the female who almost killed his brother, who threatened his family. Wild fantasies of her in extreme pain, deadly worry, agonizing her last breath filled his mind. He wondered if Azriel would want a turn with her, if he'd want to make her pay for almost ending his life, for taking away his choice, for destroying the life he'd built with you.

Ace. He had to tell you, even if you ended up ignoring him, even if it didn't change anything for you, you should know. But he had something to do first.

𓂃

Coming back to the inn felt like a dream. With merry eyes that place was heavenly. You didn't remember getting ready for bed but the oversized shirt you wore and lack of makeup on your face showed you had. After doing your morning routine, you left your room. You assumed Lucien was still asleep given that there weren't any sounds coming from the hallway, so with quiet steps you made your way to the kitchen, only to find the table already set.

You were too busy munching on a piece of bread to notice the presence behind you. Two fingers jabbing into your ribs and a weirdly attractive 'morning' uttered by your ear made you jump, the squeak the chair let out mixed with your yelp. When your heartbeat stopped deafening your ears, you heard Lucien howling.

"The bread!" He wheezed. You watched him with narrowed eyes but after understanding what he had said, you started searching for it. "Cei–" he tried to say something only to start laughing again.

"What?" You frantically searched for the bread and still there was no trace of it, glancing back at Lucien you noticed his finger pointing up. The piece of bread had stuck to the ceiling above your head, the splashes of jam started falling as you looked up. A weird wet sound and the smack of bread on the table had Lucien barking out laughter.

Someone knocking interrupted your silly moment, Lucien wiped the tears in his eyes and walked to the front door. The silence that followed was awkward, there was no sound after the door opened, no greetings. A few seconds later you got curious and decided to go see who it was, as you walked closer Lucien asked what was wrong, you would've waited fro the other person to speak if you hadn't caught a glimpse of black. As you fully turned the corner, violet eyes drifted to you.

There was something in him that just felt unsettling. Rhysand seemed disturbed, and you hoped it had nothing to do with you.

"I need to talk to you." His voice was quiet, worrying you even more. You nodded and Lucien invited him in, closing the door behind him.

"I'll be in my room if you need me." He walked away after a brief look at you.

You took Rhysand to the living room, pointing for him to sit before taking the other side of the couch. The High Lord leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, his fingers fidgeting.

"I don't know how to tell you this, so I'm going to show you," he hesitantly turned to face you, "if you allow me."

"Okay." Even if it had something to do with you, it was bad enough to make Rhysand nervous, and that wasn't good.

Images of the last three days filled your mind. Azriel's pale body limp and Cassian gathering him would haunt you forever. Seeing Rhysand's inner turmoil, Cassian fighting to stay composed for his brothers sake, the Archeron sisters yelling at each other, Mor and even Amren looking troubled, it was all too much for you. Minutes after the memories ended you still hadn't pronounced a word, there was not a single indication of what you were thinking or feeling.

"Helion helped heal him, Madja wasn't able to so we brought him here. We would've taken him to Dawn but given that it was a potion, we couldn't risk losing time only to be met with no solution, and since there's not a spell Helion doesn't know, it was a wise decision." With a glance in his direction, you noticed how he nodded absentmindedly, his voice quiet as if he was talking more to himself. "It was Cassian."

The thought of Cassian poisoning Azriel sounded horrifying and the most unrealistic thing ever, "What?!" It was a loud whisper, you would've yelled if your voice hadn't failed you, almost muted from shock.

"No! Gods, no! I'm sorry I made it sound like that, I meant that it was Cassian's idea to bring him here. He took over when I couldn't think straight..."

"Thank the Mother," you breathed out, relief overtaking you for a moment before another thought came to mind, "but, who was it?" you hesitated for a moment, Azriel couldn't have poisoned himself accidentally, and the thought of someone close to him doing that, was terrifying. If someone had the guts to harm The Spymaster of the Night Court, they were either out of their mind, or the most threatening person to enter that court in centuries.

"Elain." Your stomach dropped, that uncomfortable sensation of shock filled you, Elain!?

Out of everything your mind could have come up with, Elain harming Azriel wouldn't be one of them. Up until a few seconds ago you still thought they loved each other, thought she wanted him badly enough to push her mate aside, thought he wanted her badly enough to throw you away and go against his brother to be with her. She had him, how could she harm him like that? Why?

"When Azriel was stable, I went to interrogate her, to know exactly what her intention was." He started when he noticed you were lost in thought. "It was a love potion. She had been cultivating passionflower for months now, its tea is used to treat insomnia, anxiety and pain. but apparently it's also used on love potions. So every time she pretended to help him ease his anxiety and sleep better, she was also drugging him into being in love with her." You uttered some curse words under your breath, Rhysand nodded in agreement before continuing. "She was using the flower petals and concentrated syrup on the cakes and pastries she gave him, saying it was a new recipe or just a form of payment for his help. According to her, three nights ago Azriel started acting differently, she could see the way his behavior drifted from being obsessed and lustful to disgust and indifference, so she thought it'd be a good idea to triple the tea's dose. The thing is, Az already had a decent amount of it in his system, he just wasn't reacting to it, and after the triple dose... It made him relax and sleep as intended, but when he drifted off, his heartbeat slowed way more than normal and it only got worse. The soreness he was feeling from the past few days turned into extreme pain, the beating Cassian and I gave him, his wing... It all made him too sensitive, the bruises turned red and angry like closed wounds or rashes. He managed to wake up somehow," Rhysand gave a humorless laugh, "and he called me... when I found him..." he drifted off, for sure reliving the moment behind his closed eyelids.

"Rhys..." you tried to find what to say, but nothing came up, you couldn't think straight. Your lower lip trembled, your eye stinging with tears that you couldn't keep from falling. A hand rested over your shaky one, his body shifting closer to you, his other hand bringing you to lean on his chest, planting a kiss to the side of your head before resting his against you and letting his own tears fall.

"I know it's a lot to take in... it was for me too." He breathed shakily in and out. "I took care of her, Az is safe, no one will hurt him again. It's okay." He kept uttering words to comfort you both.

You didn't know what to think. Azriel hadn't chosen her, he didn't love her, didn't push you aside because he stopped loving or wanting you. It made sense now why he seemed so intrigued when you mentioned breaking up, why his change was so sudden, why you didn't recognize him. The Azriel you broke up with wasn't the same Azriel you had fallen in love with, and at the same time that it relieved a horrible weight off of your chest, it also laid another. Because even if it wasn't your fault, you hated yourself for not seeing it earlier, for leaving him and giving her the chance to have him, and more so for even for a brief moment, wanting Lucien.

"You couldn't have known." You immediately closed off your mind and pushed away from his chest, refusing to meet Rhysand's eyes. "I'm not judging you, I wouldn't ever do that. I hate myself too for not seeing it, I knew he was different but I was just so pissed that I didn't even consider... I'm sure that the Azriel we know wouldn't judge you either. And, can I tell you something?" His hands were still holding yours and rubbing your back.

"Yeah." You still refused to look at him, your cheeks tinged with shame, Rhysand lifted your chin, his face showed no signs of bad emotions anymore, and if you dared guess, it showed hope.

"First I want you to know I'm not prompting you to do anything, I just want you to acknowledge the truth, you don't have to do anything with it if you don't want to. Again, I'm not going to judge you." He waited until you understood and nodded before speaking. "Azriel never loved Elain. His heart belongs to you... his soul belongs to you."

You tilted your head in question, wondering why he looked at you so intrigued. Of course, hearing that Azriel never loved another from someone else's mouth comforted you, showed that you weren't so wrong in assuming.

"Sweetheart–" he opened his mouth to continue but closed quickly after, thinking for a moment before meeting your eyes with a newfound determination, "Elain only resorted to that because she knew she was losing time, she couldn't make him fall for her naturally, and she knew she wouldn't have the chance to do it if Azriel found out." Rhysand shook his head when he noticed you didn't have a clue of what he was saying, his talons caressed you mind wanting to show you. It was a moment you didn't remember, and wouldn't ever because it didn't and wouldn't happen.

Both you and Azriel babysitting Nyx, who was snuggled in your arms, giggling from your fingers tickling his sides. Azriel watched the scene with adoring eyes, his shadows danced at the sound of your laughter, floating around you. The baby's back was turned to him, and the sight of his wings and black hair gave Azriel an image of what could be his future. His baby, giggling and snuggling with you, their eyes a copy of yours, nose the perfect mixture of you both, pointy ears half hidden behind black hair. Your eyes met his from behind his nephew's head, the light in them and your face glowing with happiness told him you were thinking the same. The love he cultivated behind his ribs bloomed, he could swear his heart pulsed so hard you could see it moving even hidden behind his shirt.

He watched you gently place Nyx down, making sure he entertained himself with some toys before making your way towards him. Azriel met you halfway, as always, locking his arms behind you and pulling you into his chest, your bodies fit perfectly.

"Can you imagine it?" You spoke softly.

"Yeah, I can." You could basically hear his smile.

Azriel pulled back slightly, his hand coming up to your head to make you look at him. Your eyes met hazel ones, the molten gold in his eyes, mingled with green and brown, glowed. The swirls they made resembled his shadows, you could spend hours staring into his irises and still they would fascinate you. Azriel blinked, when your eyes met this time, there was gold in yours too, a small thread growing brighter and brighter, his heart ached, a pull constricted his breath and he hissed, when your brows furrowed and your eyes watered, he knew you felt the same.

The thread became bigger and you finally felt your souls connected, Azriel's happiness was overwhelming, the tears fell. His forehead rested on yours, he sniffled and chuckled a moment later, shaking his head in astonishment.

"It's you..." he smiled, pulling back and caressing your face, "I always knew it was you." He whipped your tears while his own fell freely down his cheeks, your hands cupped his face, bringing him down for a kiss.

The memory ended and your heart broke. Seeing Azriel so close like that again, and so full of love, that was the male you knew and loved, knowing that perhaps you'd never get to experience that moment with him, absolutely wrecked you. Your throat tightened trying to hold back your sobs, fat tears rolled down your face, wetting your and Rhysand's shirt.

Azriel was your mate. It was you he was tied to. Not Elain, not Mor. You.

Your mind provided you with a thousand possibilities of how your life could have been, if only Elain hadn't interfered. Your heart ached for him, for you, for the family you could've built. You still wanted him, it was too soon for you to have stopped wanting, but it was also too early to tell what was the right thing to do. Perhaps such a thing didn't exist, you both have always walked a thin line between right and wrong.

What confused you most was also longing for Lucien. Right when you decided that it wasn't wrong to want him, this happened. How could you feel so much want, and for different people?

So you cried. For everything and everyone. For all the possible futures you could've had, and for the ones you still could have. For hatred, for love, for the blankness inside you. For not knowing if what you felt for Lucien was only lust. For still loving Azriel, enough that whatever happened with Elain didn't matter anymore, it wasn't his fault anyway. And most importantly, you cried for yourself. For the pain inflicted upon you, for the rough path you always had to walk, for the weight of the world that you carried on your shoulders everyday.

Rhysand didn't move, his arms never strayed from your trembling body. He never tried to stop your tears, he knew you had to get the pain out someway. He whispered gentle words right by your ear, everything he knew would help ease your worries and pain.

The tears stopped after a few minutes, Rhys didn't let go immediately, letting you make the first move and pull away first. After that you spent a little while thinking through your options, taking a moment to decide what you wanted.

“Do you think–” you glanced at him to see his expression, “do you think he'll want to see me?”

“What?!” Rhysand scoffed, “Sweetheart, of course he'll want to see you.”

This trip was supposed to be relaxing, a time for you to not think of everything that happened. Lucien has asked you to come with him, to be there for him. You knew that he'd be okay with you going to see Azriel, because that's just the way he was, he would put himself aside to make sure his friends were happy, nevermind that his own happiness was just as important.

If someone deserves happiness, a happy ending, it's him. Lucien overworked so he wouldn't notice how alone he was, he used to avoid going home before you went to live with him. You both had become so much closer in the past few days, taking care of each other, having more fun than you've had in years.

You weighed your options, you could stay with him and continue with your original plans, you could go see Azriel out of respect for the time you spent together and worry for the male you loved, you could just send a letter, and you could go back to him, because none of what happened was his fault.

“I need some time to think.”

Taglist: @going-through-shit @crazylokonugget @meritxellao @cleverzonkwombatsludge @paintedbyshadows @mp-littlebit @rcarbo1 @that-one-little-soybean @scatteredstardustt @littlepippilongstocking @lorosette @minnieoo @hailqueenconquer @azriels-shadowsinger @blessthepizzaman @chelsiemp @saltedcoffeescotch @thestartitaness @historygeekqueen @sillyfreakfanparty @entr4p3 @warmdragonfly @clementine111002 @azriel-shadowsingerr @amiime @anuttellaa @loulou0101 @acourtofbatboydreams @xmalfoyweasleyx @anna-reader-blog @melmo567 @buttermilktea11 @helo1281917 @thelov3lybookworm @cazrielsfairygf @hanatsuki-hime @st4r-girl-official @feiwelinchen @fhgsvbnh

#azriel x reader #lucien vanserra x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #azriel

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bluesidez · 8 months ago

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GymRat!Miguel Part 9.1 | full chapter without breaks on AO3

content warning: lots of music links, ROADTRIP!!, some hurt/comfort at the beginning, a damn near comedy if I must say so myself, Spanish parts (if wrong, please correct me), lots of fluff, Buc-ee's shenanigans (I love that store), Miguel drives a Range Rover (hot, I know. Tyler got that MUNYUN), some jealous Miguel (MY FAVORITE), a hint of jealous reader 🫨 (she has a storm coming lol), simp Miguel if I'm being honest, 18+ so MNDI, male masturbation, wet wet fantasies, both reader and Miguel are h word for each other

word count: 7.1k, damn near proofread (this is only one part of the behemoth)

I did some research on MLE, yachts, superyachts, dolphins, and water activities for this chapter. 🤠 Hopefully, it shows! The yacht size I imagined is somewhere in between a regular yacht and a superyacht/megayacht. I built a Range Rover just for GR!Miguel you guys. (thanks to my irl besties and @slushycoookie once again 🥰)

Prev | Next (Part 9.2) ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who comes back home after nearly a week of bliss with you. He floated all the way home from dropping you off with Tyler’s people.

He made them wait much longer than they needed to when he decided to makeout with you next to the black Suburban.

Only a few more weeks before he could see you again.

GymRat!Miguel who is met with his mom sitting on the couch with just the tv glowing on her.

His steps were too heavy to sneak past her, so he just sighed and settled down on one of the plush chairs.

“I see you’re home,” she says. Her eyes don’t move from the Golden Girls episode playing softly.

“Sí, mamá.”

“How come you didn’t tell me where you went?”

“Gabriel told you where I was. I’m sure you asked him.” Miguel was tired already.

“He did, pero eso no fue lo que te pregunté.” (but that’s not what I asked you)

“Ma-”

“Mijo.”

“You’re not even looking at me.”

“And you’ve sat so far away. Like I’m going to hurt you. Miguel, I asked you to come home. You didn’t respond. You didn’t call. You didn’t even speak to me when you came back a few days ago.”

Miguel stared at her face, willing himself not to get emotional over this.

“I acknowledge that I should have let you know where I was. I didn’t talk to you because I didn’t want to say something I would regret.”

Conchata finally turned to look at Miguel. Her first-born. The life given to her after so much turmoil.

She could still see the little boy that would cry at the drop of a hat. She could still see the little boy that would dry up his tears if Gabriel started to cry with him, just to comfort him. The little boy with so much room in his heart.

She can see him now, face ridden with sadness. A face that she knew too well.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, mijo.”

“Well, you did. Again. I’m used to it. This isn’t a new feeling. What is new, is you acting like this towards someone else close to me.”

“I-”

“Let me finish, ma, please. You’ve never been a parent that cares about how I’ve felt in regards to anything. You have made decisions for me without a second thought without ever considering how I might feel. You’ve also never been the type of person who hurts someone else for no reason. I’m sorry I’m not with someone you picked, but I’m not sorry for loving her. She is everything to me. If I were to fall, there’s no doubt in my mind that she would be there to build me back up. She’d probably even break my fall if I couldn’t stop her.”

Miguel stopped to look up, willing himself not to cry.

“What you said to her brought something out that she hasn’t felt in a while. You broke her in a way that I promised myself I never would. I wanted to present her to my family in a positive light, to show her off. I didn’t expect you to be ecstatic about her, but I did hope that you could at least open your heart up once you met her.”

He looked off, tears escaping from his eyes. You’re in a better position now, but he won’t know if that donner will creep back up on you, making you hate yourself for something that’s not your fault. He remembered the pain in your voice, how kept it in until you were with him and away from the manor. He hated it.

“But instead, she was met with two people who paid her no respect. Two people that brought her turmoil. I expected Kron to be horrible, look at how he talked to you, but not you. You were supposed to be better. You didn’t see how much you hurt her, I did. It’s like we prepped for nothing but a shitshow and I should have followed my gut and kept her to myself a little longer.”

Miguel sniffed, wiping at his nose in hopes that it would stop the urge to cry.

Conchata let the silence rest. Nothing but the TV and her son’s sniffles filled the room.

“I’m sorry, Miguel.”

Miguel turned back. Shocked that she didn’t put up much of a fight.

“I just,” she paused. “There’s no excuse for how I treated her. She didn’t deserve it and if I could go back and change my behavior, I would. I think that I was just overwhelmed. Upset because my baby is growing up. He’s moving on and I can’t hold him in my hands anymore. I don’t tuck him in anymore. I don’t have to check under his bed for monsters. He doesn’t need me to do anything. So this shift is hurting me, mijo, and I took it out on the wrong people. For that, I’m so sorry.”

Conchata was a hard-cased woman. She stuck with her opinions, even if they were blatantly wrong. She was proud and vocal. She never let people see her crack or fall under pressure. So, seeing her like this, begging for Miguel to understand her, was a rare moment for Miguel.

“Ma, me growing up doesn’t stop me from being your son. I’m still here. I’ll still rely on you, but I want you to have a break too. You have to let me grow. I won’t live here forever, but that doesn’t mean I won’t come back to you. I’m glad you were able to express this to me, I just wish you could have said so sooner.”

“Lo siento, mijo.”

Miguel got up to get closer to her. He wrapped her up in his arms, too easy to forgive her. “It’s ok.”

He leans back and kisses her forehead, heart mending by the smallest of stitches. “You still have to apologize to my girlfriend, though.”

“I will when I see her again.”

“And we need to go to therapy.”

“George has already told me.”

“And I want you to make me some ceviche. And tamales.”

“Bueno.”

“And tres leches.”

She sighed, but squeezed him tighter. “Don’t curse in front of me again, and I’ll consider it.”

“Gracias, mamá.”

“De nada, mijo.”

GymRat!Miguel who goes to sleep with his body feeling a lot lighter. The weight of his relationship with his mom lifted a little off his shoulders.

GymRat!Miguel who has two grand master plans that he’s been setting out for months: eating you out and making your first time together special.

He’s been overthinking every detail like a maniac. The peaches from the fruit bowl have been disappearing to his room for research purposes only- and a snack of course.

He once ended up on the girl side of Tik Tok where they complain about everything guys get wrong when pleasuring them. He had been thoroughly reading the comments and taking notes here and there. He didn’t really need the tip about making noise though, he already does that just thinking about you. So many times has he had to stuff his mouth when jerking off.

He also had a few tabs open in incognito mode. That research is only done in the deep of the night.

Right now, he’s sitting at his desk reading some article about listening to your partner’s body and his mind can’t help but to wander off. Will you grip your thighs around him? He hopes so. He could die that way. Will you be vocal? Will you tell him if it’s too much? Will you guide his head and pull his hair?

That last question has him gripping his sweats in anticipation. No doubt when you scratched at his back in the hotel room, he was reeling from the sensation. It was like a reward for him whenever you feel so good, you’re too unaware of what you’re doing to him physically. Too lost in bliss to register the marks and pain you’re leaving on him. You just want him to give you more.

Miguel drops his pen and pushes the heel of his palm on his growing bulge.

“Fuck.” Every time about an hour or so into researching, his head is full of you. He imagines what it’ll be like to finally taste you, to be inside you.

He remembered how wet you got with just a little rubbing. Your body was so responsive to his movements and he couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if you guys upped the foreplay.

Miguel leaned back in his chair, arm over his head. He dropped his hand in his sweats hand gripping at the base of his erection, exhaling deep as he gave it a few pumps.

Your hands on his chest. Your arms around his neck. Your nails scraping his back. Your thighs wrapping around his waist. Your breath on his lips.

You opening up for him. You dripping down his fingers, down his legs, down his face. You screaming out his name loud enough for the entire neighborhood to file a complaint. You in whatever position he puts you in. He could hold you up. Maybe have your legs in the air or stretched out on the bed. He could have you grabbing for the sheets, the headboard, him. His head in your chest, in your pussy, in your ass.

Pre-cum spilled onto his stomach, rolling down his shaft. Would you let him go that far?

He doesn’t know what’s worse, the cold showers and teeth-marked arms at the beginning of the relationship or his constant daydreams of your body connecting with his that kept occurring regularly.

Maybe you felt the same way too. That was a new thought.

Do you wonder about your first time together? Were you just as excited as him? Do you get wet at the thought of him inside of you? Do you have to stop everything and find pleasure like he does? Were your fingers enough or did you need more?

Miguel continued to move his hand up and down, squeezing occasionally to mimic what you might feel like.

He’s groaning into his elbow, hips lifting from his desk chair.

He could almost hear your voice in his ear. Begging, praising, crying out, stuttering.

GymRat!Miguel who cums as Gabriel slams through the door. In a matter of 15 seconds, Miguel covers his drenched chest, shoves his sensitive dick back down, and grabs napkins to try to wipe away at his hand.

Nevermind his shirt is now ruined.

“What the fuck are you looking at and why is this picture showing a seductive pomegranate?”

“Why the fuck are you opening my door without knocking?”

“I did knock! I did our special knock plus a freestyle! I thought you were dead, Miguelito.”

Miguel’s heart felt a little tug despite its rapid tempo, “’M not dead, Gabri. Just busy. I didn’t hear you.”

Gabriel snickered when he got closer to look at his laptop. “I can see why. These tabs are a dead giveaway.”

Gabriel reached over to stare at Miguel’s notebook.

“These are some good tips! You shouldn’t expect her to taste like sweets, though.”

Nothing in his notes indicated that, but Miguel wanted to be offended for you anyway.

Miguel gave Gabriel a hard side eye, mouth set deeply down.

“I really wish you would get out of my room.”

“Oo, you should buy a rose. Dana loves that thing.”

“I don’t want to hear about whatever freaky shit you and Dana get up to, Gabriel.”

“You’ve caught me in more embarrassing situations, I’m just trying to lighten the mood! I also suggest those candy panties-”

“I’m not putting candy on- Gabriel. Can you please stop talking to me?”

“Miguel, this stuff is important!”

“¿Por qué eres así?” Miguel mumbled. “Ok, yeah. I get it. But you can chat to me about this after I’ve switched shirts.” (Why are you like this?)

“Fine, I’ll come back. Ten minutes. Then we must have a healthy chat about how to have fun safely.”

Gabriel skipped back to the door singing Candy loud enough to be heard as he went back to his own room.

“Strawberry! Raspberry! All those good things! Violets and gumdrops that’s what you’re saying to me, me, me.”

A black hole would be nice to save himself from this situation.

GymRat!Miguel who jumps out of his bed the day of the “Yacht Weekend.” Gabriel is dead set on calling it the “Yachty Pawty” and Miguel thinks that’s unbelievably stupid.

GymRat!Miguel who has to go and pull Gabriel out of his bed to get him to get ready, his body stretching like a ferret. He’s never been a morning person. It’s like his brain didn’t start computing until noon.

GymRat!Miguel who jogs around the neighborhood to kill time. The weather is a lot cooler in the morning plus it gives Gabriel time to come to reality. He waves to the son of one of his neighbors who gawks at him as he passes by.

Were his shorts giving away too much again? He didn’t feel a draft.

He looked down at his crotch. All good.

GymRat!Miguel who calls you while he stops to take a water break.

“Amor!” His voice is bright and his smile is radiant, watching as you squint at the screen.

Your cheek is squished against the pillow and you’re wrapped up in your covers.

“Hey, Miggy. It’s so bright there.”

Your voice was scratchy, a sign of how deep in sleep you were. You were so fucking cute.

“Are you running?”

He placed his phone on a nearby bench so he could stretch. “Yeah, I’m taking a break.”

He went into a deep lunge, stretching his body low to the ground.

You went quiet for so long, Miguel thought the call dropped.

“Baby? Did you go back to sleep?” Miguel asked.

“No, I’m still here. Those pants are,” you started to shuffle your phone. “Really short.”

“Really?” Miguel stood up and looked down at his pants. They did cut off high up his thighs, but they were good for running. Plus, he got hot easily, so he needed as much wind on his skin as possible. “They’re comfy.”

“Mm hm. Can you turn around for me?”

Miguel turned, confused but willing.

“Got it. Thank you, my muscle bear!”

“What did you just do?”

“Took pictures of your ass. It looks great. I’m gonna hold it real good later.”

Miguel laughed and grabbed his phone.

“Can I hold yours, too?” He wanted to do way more than hold it.

You smile sleepily at the camera. “I’ll think about it.”

GymRat!Miguel who lets you stay on the phone while he runs back to the house.

“You’re just going to hear the wind and me breathing for a few minutes.”

“And I’m fine with that! It’s like boyfriend ASMR. Peaceful.”

GymRat!Miguel who ruffles Gabriel’s hair when he gets back home. He’s staring at the wall and shoveling cereal in his mouth at the slowest pace known to man.

“Buenos días, hermanito!” (Good morning, little brother)

“Mm.”

GymRat!Miguel who takes a cold shower to cool off for once and not because he’s having explicit thoughts of you.

GymRat!Miguel who chugs down a protein smoothie while he waits for Gabriel to come downstairs.

GymRat!Miguel who answers the door to Dana. She’s got some shades on and a purse with the same texture as a croc.

She peers over her shades. “You’re looking put together!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Don’t play dumb. You’re trying to impress your girl! What do you have planned? A dinner on the horizon? A spa date? Oh! No! Another shopping spree?l

Yes. No, but he should arrange that. And absolutely not. He’s not Tyler.

“No,” Miguel squints. “But how can you tell?”

“You’re easy to read, big guy. Even when you think about her your eyes turn into hearts. When have you ever thought to wear a button down for a roadtrip to the beach?”

“Touche.”

“I’ll figure out what you’re up to. I have my ways.”

She twirls and runs up to Gabriel’s room, leaving a waft of strong perfume after her.

With that, Miguel knew it would be at least another 45 minutes before he could get on the road.

GymRat!Miguel who does his special knock on Gabriel’s door.

“I’m opening it, so you fiends better have your clothes on.”

He swung the door open to the disheveled couple. Dana with her hair astray and Gabriel breathing eerily hard.

“Seriously, guys? I need to go by the airport.”

“I was just waking him up!” Dana says with a voice that was much hoarser than it was an hour ago.

“Well,” Miguel put a hand on his hip in a way that anyone could tell he was Conchata O’Hara’s son. “Are you awake, Gabri?”

Gabriel’s face was as red as a tomato as he shook his head no.

Miguel pitched his voice higher to mimic his brother. “Ten minutes. And then we can have a conversation on time management and respect. Except it won’t be “safely” because I’m going to hurt you.”

GymRat!Miguel who finally backs out of the driveway in exactly ten minutes. Gabriel is rubbing his arm in the passenger seat with a pout on his face. Dana is grinning from ear to ear.

GymRat!Miguel who hands Gabriel the aux. He might be a silly boy, but his music taste is immaculate.

GymRat!Miguel who almost has to hurt Gabriel again when he doesn’t want to get out of the passenger seat.

“Why do I have to move?”

“Because I said so.”

“That’s not grounds for anything!”

Dana pokes her head over the console. “Gabie. Read the room. He wants to grip on to his girl while he drives with one hand. Show off.”

GymRat!Miguel who kisses you and grabs your bags at the same time when he sees you. The cars around are loud, honking sporadically. People are walking and running to catch cabs or get to their loved ones. Workers are trying to direct the traffic.

It all quiets down when he meets your eyes.

“Hola, mi amor.”

You wrap your arms around his neck and bring him close. “Hello to you too, my love.”

You smile up until he presses his lips against yours. More and more pecks follow after that.

He holds his nose to yours, completely enraptured by your presence.

“Oh my god, let’s go!” Gabriel shouts from the car, pressing his palm against the steering wheel.

“You’re not the one driving, pinche pendejo!”

You giggle and stand on your tippy toes to try and see over Miguel’s shoulder. You’re still too short so you lean sideways. Miguel melts.

“Just a few more and we’ll be done Gabriel!”

“Fine. For you, I’ll let it slide.”

You stand back up straight and kiss Miguel a little more.

GymRat!Miguel who does reach over and grip your thigh. If Gabriella and Troy weren’t in the back belting, he’d hike his hand up further.

“Right now I can hardly breathe!” Gabriel pivots his head towards Dana dramatically, water bottle a faux mic.

“Oh! You can do it, just know that I believe.” Dana is touching his chest dramatically.

“Are they always like this?” You ask, laughing a little at their antics.

Miguel groans in annoyance. “Yes.”

GymRat!Miguel who nearly sprints out the car when he parks by a pump. He’s been riding for a bit and he needs to stretch his legs.

“Miggy, you want something from the store?”

You’re standing next to the car, the wind blowing your hair back. Your jacket blows away a little, showing off the tight little outfit you’re sporting. You’re beautiful.

He wants to break you down in the front seat of his car.

He swallows the thought. “I’ll come in there soon, don’t worry.”

You walk in the giant gas station and head immediately to the Icee machines. For the best possible experience, you should wait until it’s time to go before buying it.

As you’re walking along the wall wondering what flavor you should get, you feel a tug at your arm.

You turn to see Dana with some bottles in her hand.

“I don’t know what he’s planning, but trust me when I say, you should take these.”

You frown as you take the cranberry juice. “Um.”

“I’ve been around those two long enough to know when one of them is up to something. I mean Gabriel hasn’t said anything off, but look at how he’s bopping around the store.”

You turn and look.

He is indeed bouncing more than usual. He’s so tall that if he puts even more pep in his step, he might just break a hole in the ceiling.

“Ok,” you turn back to Dana while fighting a laugh. “So they are planning something. What does that have to do with me and cranberry juice?”

“Gabie tries his best to use bro code, but I quite literally suck the information out of him sometimes. He caught Miguel looking at lots of articles about pleasuring his partner. With his mouth. That’s all I know for now.”

Your heart picks up. He was still going on about that?

“That might just be a coincidence.”

“He’s wearing damn near beach attire with his hair styled. He held onto your thigh for an hour, even when the turns got tough. He stared at you walking into the store even until he couldn’t see you anymore.”

You bit your lip. “Those last two things are standard Miguel behavior.”

Dana huffs and spins you around.

Across the store, you could see Miguel and Gabriel huddled over something. Miguel with his eyes focused and Gabriel animatedly explaining something. Every once in a while, Miguel would nod and roll his eyes up as if he was mentally checking on something.

You sigh and turn back around.

“Do they sell pineapples too?”

GymRat!Miguel who looms over you while you and Dana are looking at some cakes. You look up at him, pressing your head against his chest.

Miguel kissed your forehead when you beamed at him.

He looked over to Gabriel who was also crowding Dana and shouted, “¡Vamos!”

In a matter of seconds, Miguel had lifted you and brought you to the middle of the store where the workers were cooking up fresh meat.

You squeal in shock and laugh on the way over. Miguel’s not even struggling.

Gabriel on the other hand huffs as he places Dana down.

“You need to work on that, babe.”

“I can lift you when I want to!” Gabriel replies, petulant.

“For like one minute maybe. Why don’t you start working out with Miguel?”

“No thanks.” They both said in unison, almost carbon copies of each other.

Really, if Miguel didn’t work out, or if Gabriel did for about a year, they could definitely play off as twins. Only subtle things separating them, like Gabriel’s freckles, softer face, and slightly shorter height and Miguel’s less curly hair, thicker eyebrows, and deeper voice.

In your eyes, their bond was precious. You wondered what their baby pictures looked like.

“You guys are so cute,” you say, reaching up to squeeze both of their cheeks.

They both melt the same way in your hands. Miguel’s face is only a little bit hotter against your palm.

GymRat!Miguel who presses up against you while you both check out. You stay nonchalant and talk to the cashier like normal, but you could feel Miguel’s heartbeat through your thin romper.

Every breath he took molded on your skin, his chest rising and falling against your head.

He kept steady hands on your hips and waist, only moving them to pay for your snacks.

The cashier would take not-so-subtle breaks to stare up at him, face getting redder after each glance.

You could only think “me too, girl.”

He really did look good today. His shirt was open a little lower than normal, his shorts loose but tightening around his thighs with every step he took. His hair was slicked back with a few strands falling loose and shades sat perfectly on top of his head. A chain danced around his neck, the color glowing on his pretty skin. He was tanner than usual, the sun making him glow after so many morning runs.

To top it off he smelled really good. You wanted to lick him.

From how slow the cashier was moving, you knew she was ready to take a lick too.

You took moments like this in stride. Especially when Miguel was pressed so hard against you, you could feel his dick at the small of your back.

Still, when people still tried to hit on your boyfriend or gawked at him even when you caught them, it was hard not feel frustrated about others thinking he can be taken from you. Or just ignoring you.

More often than not, Miguel would bring you back down to earth with some action to let others know that he’s taken.

Today, it was a kiss to your neck and a smack to your ass followed by his hand rubbing circles in the same spot.

He grabbed the bags in one hand and your hip in the other.

You looked back to the cashier scanning the next customer far more aggressively than before.

GymRat!Miguel who eats half of his sandwich before starting the car back up.

You still place the other half in front of his mouth, feeding him occasionally.

He just smiles before and after each bite. Giddy with attention. You wipe his mouth to stop sauce from spilling from his shirt.

Miguel almost turns the car into turbo drive.

GymRat!Miguel who finally makes it to the beach an hour or so later. It’s late Thursday afternoon, so the sun is still shining bright.

Gabriel is excited to finally be free from the tight back seat so he uses the opportunity to blast music from Miguel’s stereo.

“C’mon, Dana! Dance with me,” Gabriel said, pulling her out of the back seat and bringing her to the front of the var. “Let’s have a twerk-off.”

You can’t stop the laugh that spills out of your mouth. You couldn’t imagine either of them shaking anything.

“I can not twerk and you know it!”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t shake. Don’t be shy now!”

You and Miguel get out of the car to stretch, Miguel watching the two over the hood of the car, unphased.

Gabriel turns to you with a glint in his eyes. “Can you twerk?”

You were ready to shake your ass on a yacht after some liquid courage, but you didn’t mind a little dancing beforehand.

You hurried to the front before the song was over and put your hands on the hood. You bend over with an arch in your back and move your ass to the beat of the song.

You hear Gabriel shout, “Oh shit! Go, go, go!”

Dana sprints, nearly bulldozing Gabriel to stand behind you and catch it. You laugh at the two and bend even deeper, encouraged by their cheers.

GymRat!Miguel whose eyes nearly pop out of his head when you bend over.

When did you learn how to do that?

He’s stunned for a second until he reaches inside the car and turns the radio off. He’s going to kill Gabriel.

Miguel hurries to the front and picks Dana up by her armpits to move her aside. “You guys are wasting my gas and neither you or you are CashApping me shit.”

He straightens you up and pulls your risen romper back over your ass. He stands behind you like a bodyguard, arms crossed and frown deepening.

“I don’t know what you think we’re going to be doing on this yacht, but all of my girls are throwing it back. You need to prepare yourself, Mig.” Dana scoffs, mostly offended that Miguel just removed her from a dream spot.

“Yeah, Mig. Be mindful of why you were invited to the function,” Gabriel turned his nose up and wrapped his arm around Dana. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, m’lady.”

Gabriel bowed to you and you curtsied back with a fake dress. The two of them walked like royalty to the trunk, gathering their bags.

GymRat!Miguel who stuttered trying to explain himself when you turned to him.

“Is it going to be a problem for you that I’m dancing with others?”

“No!” he said way too fast.

You gave him a look with your eyebrow raised.

“You just,” he paused. His voice got quieter as he played with the strap of your romper. “You never danced on me before.”

He had a pout on his face, mouth turned like a duck.

“Oh my god, Miguel. I can dance on you if you would like. You just have to ask.” He was so cute. You’ve never seen him get that jealous before.

You kind of want to play with him some more.

“Can you dance on me later?” he asks, not daring to meet your eyes.

“Of course.”

You giggle as you kiss his cheek. His pout slowly disappearing from his face.

GymRat!Miguel who is greeted by the enthusiastic captain with a shake that moves his entire arm. He’s a jolly little fellow, cheeks rosy and his mustache curled on the ends. He was also strangely stocky. He reminded Miguel of Santa Claus if he took vacations in the Bahamas when he’s not at the North Pole.

“I take it you’re Mr. Stone’s son, yes?”

“That would be me.”

“Excellent! Excellent. Your father has told me quite a lot about you. You sure do take after his height. My name is Captain Barrett and I’ll be steering the boat for you youngins this weekend. Me and your father go way back. And between you and me, I was better lookin’!”

Miguel chuckles awkwardly, trying to move the conversation along.

He finally looks past Miguel and sees the three of you standing there.

“And who might you three be?”

“This is my younger brother, Gabriel. His girlfriend, Dana.”

“And this is my girlfriend.” Miguel moves by your side and wraps his arm around your shoulders. His tone is full of warmth as he says your name.

“It’s nice to meet you all. Will you all be in our cabins this weekend?”

“Yeah, this is four of the ten staying on board. The others won’t get here until tomorrow at noon.”

“Is Kron supposed to be joining you all too?”

Miguel stiffens, his grip on your shoulder a little firmer.

“Not that I know of, no.”

“Perfect! He ruined my other boat and it took me ages to clean it up. Hopefully, you’re nothing like him.” Captain Barrett does a little pleading gesture with his hands.

“Welp, follow me and I’ll show you on board!”

GymRat!Miguel who is still stunned by the amount of things money can buy when he sees the yacht. He’ll never get used to the life of luxury that Tyler introduces to him.

“Holy shit,” Gabriel mutters as he stares up at the black and wooden beauty of the deck. Dana elbows in his side, telling him to be polite in front of the captain.

“Welcome to Black Jack.”

There were crew members there to hand out fancy smoothies and grab everyone’s bags.

You had seen yachts on some of your old high school classmates’ Insta stories but this was beyond.

“I’d like to introduce you guys to the crew. They’ll be assisting me to give you youngins a good time.”

Captain Barrett ran down the line and you all greeted every person. Miguel made mental notes of their names. They’ll be getting close with all of the surprises he had planned for you.

“And this is my son, Blake! He’ll be helping me up in the cockpit.”

Miguel stopped to shake his hand.

He was like the textbook definition of a pretty frat boy. Tall, but not O’Hara tall, tan, and handsome. He smiled and showed a straight line of teeth, dimples peeking through.

“Nice to meet you, Miguel. Kron’s really not coming?”

What’s with people asking about that dickhead today?

“Nope. Just us and our friends. If he does come, it’s news to me.”

Blake went to shake your hand and it was like he started to glow under the sun. His smile went up to his eyes and he mimicked the heartthrobs in the movies Miguel’s cousins watched growing up.

“And who’s this?”

“My name is-”

“My girlfriend,” Miguel said before you could even finish.

You looked up at him in shock, laughing it off. “That too, but I have a name.” You respond to Blake and shake his hand.

Miguel doesn’t like how his eyes scan your body. It was subtle, but he caught it.

Even as you all finish up greetings, Blake is still making moves towards you. The type of flirting that probably flew over your head, but Miguel has been around enough guys like him to know exactly what it was.

“So is this your first time on a boat?” Blake asked you while he guided you guys to your room.

“No, actually. But it’s definitely my first time on a yacht, especially one this huge.”

Miguel followed behind with Dana and Gabriel.

“Is this your first time on a boat?” Miguel mocked Blake quietly, mouth scrunched up.

“‘La envidia esta flaca, porque muerde y no come,’” Gabriel replied. “You’re turning green from your neck, bro. He’s just being nice.” (Envy is thin, because it bites and does not eat.)

“No, he’s definitely flirting,” Dana quipped. “He’s not even paying the rest of us any attention.”

“Thank you, Dana. And Gabriel, don’t ever quote a Spaniard to me again.”

“How do you call that flirting? He’s not even-” Gabriel paused as Blake laughed really loud at something that you said with his hand guiding you way too close on your ass. “Ah shit.”

Miguel stomped towards you two, yanking Blake’s hand off of you and replacing it with his.

“I think we’ve got it from here. You can show those two where they’ll be staying. Thanks,” Miguel nods his head towards Dana and Gabriel with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Right,” Blake responds to him with a blank face. “I’ll see you up on the deck.” Blake winks at you before walking further.

“Don’t kill him, Miguel,” Dana pats his shoulder as she walks by.

“You’ve got my permission to hurt him if he touches me one more time though,” you say, snuggling close to Miguel and patting at his chest.

“So, I’m killing him. Got it.”

GymRat!Miguel who watches you twirl around the VIP suite.

“Miguel! This is so beautiful! Look at the view.”

“Oh my god! There’s a walk-in closet!”

“There’s a bidet! How’d they fit that and a shower in here?”

Miguel leaned on the doorway, watching you comment on every little thing.

You made sure to start to spray everything with Lysol, a habit from your mom when traveling.

While you were in the bathroom, Miguel got out one of his first gifts of the night.

It was another keychain to add to your collection. He’s been working hard to have this weekend make up for the awful dinner night.

He placed it on the bed and started to open his bag to grab his pajamas.

“What’s this?” you ask, coming out to spray the bed.

“Just a little gift for you.”

“Aw, this is so cute!” Your voice gets higher as you take in the little legos. “They even look like us! When did you get these?”

“I got them made about a week ago. You like them?”

“I love them! Thank you, Miggy.”

GymRat!Miguel who wants to moan when you walk out.

You guys are going on a double date with Gabriel and Dana at a casual-not-so-casual restaurant farther in the city. That didn’t stop you from getting all dolled up.

You walk to him on the bed, standing in between his legs.

“Amor,” Miguel said, rubbing his hands up and down your backside. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you. So do you,” you responded, careful to not run your hands through his hair. It was a comfort for you, but you didn’t want to ruin it.

Instead, you bent down to kiss him in the quiet of the room. The sun was still out, but a lot dimmer than before. Little patches of sunlight caught Miguel’s eyes. The color was so deeply brown, you swore you saw speckles of red throughout.

He moved to sit you on his lap, glancing over every detail of your body.

“You’re making it harder for me to want to leave.”

“It’s funny that you say that. You’ve been walking around like you’re straight out of a beach movie. Chest out and legs for days.”

Miguel blushed and put his head in your chest, bending you back and holding you so you won’t fall.

“What are you hiding for? It’s true!” you laugh as Miguel seemed to burrow his face deeper.

“Yeah, but you don’t have to call me out.” He was just trying to impress you, per usual.

GymRat!Miguel who gets nervous on the way to the restaurant. It was one of those immersive experiences with projections on the plates that told stories with the meals. They were pretty cute to Miguel and he figured that all three of you guys would love it.

The only thing is, he pulled some strings with Tyler to add an extra animation in there. He’s not sure how much that cost, but he’s glad he didn’t have to see the price.

GymRat!Miguel who side-eyes Gabriel when he just about screams as the little chef walks across the animated place.

“He’s so tiny!” he whisper-shouts. “So precious!”

By the time the first course comes out Gabriel is fighting tears.

“Control it, Gabri,” Miguel says, rubbing his back.

“I’m trying. I really am.”

GymRat!Miguel whose heart blooms when you laugh at one of the scenes. The little chef is squabbling with a giant shrimp and losing the battle.

GymRat!Miguel whose heart speeds up when the special animation starts up.

Only the two of your plates are lit up. There’s a river of chocolate that separates the two. From Miguel’s plate, there’s a little version of him that calls to your plate. He watches as your eyes grow when a mini you climbs on top of the plate and yells back. Your character throws him a kiss, sending a pink flutter across the river. The wave of it goes straight to mini Miguel’s heart who in turn, falls backwards dramatically.

The real you lets out a watery laugh at the scene, eyes looking at Miguel briefly in shock.

Mini Miguel jumps back up and gets to work, digging around the plate to grab biscoff cookies from the chocolate ocean to make a boat. While he works, your character wanders around the plate cutely, tidying up the area for his arrival.

When the boat is finished, Mini Miguel uses a giant spoon to steer the boat, singing out brightly the closer he gets to you. The mini you is jumping up and down, cheering him on just like you do in real life.

Once he gets to the edge of your plate, you lean close to give him a kiss. He climbs from the boat onto the plate and spins you around. You giggle in his hold until he lets you down.

From there, he starts to use the spoon to drag a chocolate message across the plate. He takes confident steps, spreading the brown syrup across the plate with ease.

“Tú eres mi luz.” (You are my light.)

When he finishes it, you both sit at the edge of the plate, feeding each other scoops of chocolate from the giant spoon. They both look up at you to wave, the Mini Miguel cheesing extremely hard as he waves both arms.

The animation fades away in a wave of browns and pinks, the waiters bringing out the actual plates of food.

The floodgates open when you’re presented with the same chocolate message, a slice of chocolate biscoff cake, and little chocolate decorations of the mini you and Miguel.

“Oh my god, the spoon is here too,” you say with emotion, picking up a chocolate coated spoon. “Miguel!”

You don't know what to do. You keep fanning your face in hopes to stop the tears from coming out and ruining the light makeup you had on. Dana hands you a pointed napkin and you thank her while holding your head back.

Gabriel is a mess, faces wet with tears. His cheeks are round as he blows out air to control his breathing.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, mi amor,” Miguel’s face is ridden with worry as he reaches across the table to grab your hand. He looks to Gabriel and sighs, “You either, hermanito.” (little brother)

“I’m good. I gotta just,” Gabriel waves a hand in front of his face cutely. “Just gotta get this out. If you’ll excuse me.”

He gets up to shuffle to the bathroom.

“I better go help him out. He gets a little delirious when he cries like that,” Dana says, rubbing your shoulder as she leaves the table.

Miguel wastes no time to sit in Dana’s seat, taking the napkin from your hands and wiping carefully at your tears.

“I love you. So, so much,” you say, resting your face in his hands. “Everyday, you find new ways to surprise me. I don’t know how you do it, but I’m just…”

You pause, waving your hands in the air, unable to express how you felt. Just thinking about it has the tears spilling over again.

“Hey, hey,” Miguel chides, catching your tears again. “If you keep crying, I’m going to cry.”

“I can’t help it, Miguel! You made a cookie boat to get to me. How can I not cry?”

Miguel reaches to kiss your cheeks in hopes to help you subside the tears, “I know, baby, I know. But to answer your first thought, when I think of you, the ideas just pour out of me. You’re my first true love, so I don’t know all the ends and outs of a relationship, but I do know what it feels like to be loved. I just want to extend that feeling to you.”

You stare in awe and the man sitting next to you, eyes glistening as you take in his words.

“I think I need another tissue.”

Miguel laughs as he grabs one to pat at your face again.

GymRat!Miguel who feeds you bites of the cake while you feed him scoops of ice cream when you’ve calmed down. You can’t stop smiling for the rest of the night.

divider by: @iwonbin 🩵

Part 9.2 here!

a/n: This is half of the chapter, but I had so much fun writing this! (mostly because I was not doing my actual work while writing half of it), especially Gabriel's silly ass. Like, it was super duper fun. Writing jealous Miguel was also great. There's so much stuff about reader that he was unaware of and I've been imagining him sitting at a table and yelling like Kendrick when it all plays back in his mind.

As always, like, comment, and reblog. Let me know how you feel! 🩵

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sonarspace · 8 months ago

Text

sweet syrup, satoru gojo

synopsis: emotions are all over the place when fwb!gojo stands you up… for another girl? content: fluff (kinda). smut (food play, fem!receiving, orgasm, unprotected sex) wc: 3.1k a/n: another fic within 24hrs to make up for my absence :). (not proofread!). this is a result of listening to sesame syrup by cigarettes after sex on repeat.

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

your phone chimes with a text from satoru “are you free this week? i’m coming to your city”. to which you reply almost instantly. “yeah, i can make some time.”

he texts back: “no need to cancel any plans. i can work around it. just wanna spend some time with you while i’m here.” making your heart flip.

“i have an event to attend tonight, but can i come over sometime between 2 and 3?” he sends another text.

it’s not really like you had much going on in the week so you decided to say yes. to which he sends a winky face and a see you soon.

it’s almost 2am when you’re done getting ready. it has been a while since you’ve seen each other and while satoru has seen you in all your rawness. you figured it wouldn’t hurt to dress up a bit.

you decide to wear an ocean blue lingerie set (his favorite color) and a sheer white dress over it, leaving nothing to imagination. you hope you can catch him off guard with this look.

you look at the clock and it’s already 2:30am. you decide to send him a text to confirm he’s going to come up or not. it’s not like satoru to stand you up especially on a plan he’s made.

“are we still good for tonight?” you text. but no reply comes through. he did say 3am didn’t he, you think to yourself. maybe he’ll be there by then. you sigh and decide to put on a movie.

you give him the benefit of the doubt and wait a bit longer past 3. but you regret that decision as you are watching instagram stories and see a pic of none other than, satoru gojo in all his glory at the party he said he’d be. an angry pout takes over your lips.

what gets you isn’t the fact that he may still be at the party but who he is with. some model’s lips are pressed to his cheeks – hand hovering over her back and his stupid people winning grin plastered on his face.

posted 20 minutes ago. you inhale deeply, trying to keep the tears at bay. you didn’t even know why you were hurt. after all you were just fuck buddies and nothing more. you suppose it was the anger making you cry.

feeling stupid at even trying to dress him for him, streaks of black mascara run down your face. you look at yourself in the mirror and take a deep breath, willing yourself to not cry over some rich fucker.

you wipe your make up and change into a pair of sweatpants and lay back down on the couch. continuing your show trying to distract yourself from the indirect rejection you felt.

but your mind kept going back to him. why would he wanna be with you when he can get all those pretty girls with their perfect bodies. girls who could probably make him feel far better than you do.

you were stupid to think there was something going in between the two of you. as soon as that thought crosses your mind a text chimes. “baby, i’m so sorry. almost there. 5 minutes.”

you scoff at the nickname ‘baby’ huh. “don’t bother. i’m going to sleep.” but you don’t get a reply back. instead what you get is loud repetition of knocks on your apartment door followed by your name.

he waits a beat and then continues knocking. “not leaving until you open the door” he texts you. out of compassion for your neighbors, you open the door. his hand stops mid knock as you gesture him to get in.

"i'm really sorry, i swear i didn't mean to keep you waiting for so long." he starts rambling and you look at him with a plain stare and arms crossed to let him know you're not having his bullshit — you already know he has other priorities.

"i lost track of time and i left the party as soon as i realized. my phone was dead, so i couldn't even text you. i just charged it on the way here. darling, you know i'd never keep you waiting," he moves closer to grab your hands and you let him.

you gulp hard trying to not cry. he reaches to touch your face but you jerk your head away. "don't gojo." the change stings him and you see a look of hurt pass over his face. "please" he drags out the syllable. "okay," you tell him and he almost smiles but you reach out and wipe the lipstick mark off his cheek bringing it up to his eyes "what's this then?"

he narrows his eyes at your thumb in thought, "it's nothing, i swear. she kissed my cheek out of nowhere and they took the photo and i moved away from her just as fast." and you scoff in disbelief, "you just have an answer for everything, don't you gojo."

he groans “just give me a minute,” and pulls out his phone — going through his texts to show the photos of him taken throughout the night. out of habit you take in his appearance. he looks unbelievably sexy in an all black outfit, a sheer black tank and a black overcoat with matching suit pants. you're immediately reminded of your white dress that you had picked earlier and think how perfectly it’d match his outfit. a tear involuntarily escapes your eye.

you wipe it casually before he can notice. he pulls up the photo probably going around on social media at the moment and then the one of him moving away from the lady, "see!" he exclaims. and you sigh, "what do you want me to say gojo?"

"first off, don't call me gojo. secondly, forgive me. it was an honest mistake, you know i'd never do it on purpose. and lastly, i've missed you so so much baby," he drops his forehead to yours and you don't pull away. cause you've missed him just the same.

"go home," you whisper to him. "can't." he replies in the same manner. "it's too late and i didn't get my car. let me stay. let me make it up to you."

you pull away from him and turn towards your bedroom. he lets out a sigh of relief thinking maybe you were giving him a second chance but his shoulders deflate just as quick when you say, "you can take the guest room."

and so he does. he'd take any chance to be close to you since his job makes it hard for him to stay around you for long periods of time. so whenever he comes to this city, he'd prefers to stay with you rather than at a hotel.

and although your relationship and feelings for each other were hidden under the title of "fuck buddies" you both knew it was more than that. both of you went exclusive as soon as you started sleeping with each other. hell you don't think you could find anyone who would fuck you as good as satoru does. and he doesn't even want to try because the way your pussy makes him feel is other worldly.

he gets out of the shower and opts to wear just his boxers and lays comfortably at the thought of making it up to you in the morning. meanwhile you twist and turn trying to find a position to sleep, wondering if you should give in or keep it up so he knows what he did was wrong.

you wake up to the sound of dishes clinking in the kitchen and smile when you remember satoru stayed over last night. albeit not with you but still. your jaw drops slightly when you walk out and see him standing by the stove in nothing but his boxers. the early morning light accentuating the dips and curves of his muscles.

"satoru!" you shriek covering your eyes. "oh, good morning baby. why are you hiding your face?" he asks as if he isn't standing there with his dick in your face. "why are you naked?! put something on!" you exclaim. "ahh, nothing you haven't seen before princess. plus i’m not naked. I’m wearing boxers!” he grins and then adds on “can't exactly wear those clothes when i'm cookin breakfast. it's uncomfortable."

"ugh," you say out loud and march back into your room. you come out with a pair of his sweatpants and throw it to him from across the counter. "wear these!"

"whatever you want baby," he pulls them on and they rest sinfully on his hips – almost teasing you and your cheeks flush. “can you taste this for me?” he asks and you walk around the counter to stand next to him as he pushes a spoonful of syrup towards you.

your eyes flutter close and you hum at the sweet taste. “this is really good,” you smile softly. “thanks. it’s for the french toast. i just put it in the oven to keep it warm. thought you’d be asleep for a little longer.” you beam at the mention of french toast, they were your favorite. “nutella?” you ask and he nods with a mesmerizing smile “just the way you like it, sweets.”

you both gaze at each other with a soft smile. “can i have another spoon?” you meek. you accidentally let a little bit of it dribble down your chin. “oh shit,” you’re about to wipe it off but satoru holds your hand and pulls you in closer.

you feel his tongue leave a wet trail behind as he licks the dripping syrup from your chin to the corner of your mouth. your breath hitches at the sensation. he pulls back and looks at you with smirk.

before he can take too much pride in catching you off guard, you surprise him by clashing your lips to his. he bucks backward and steadies himself with a grip on your waist.

his heart picks up a beat at finally feeling your plush lips on his. tasting the remnants of syrup still sticking to your lips. your kiss felt transcendental to him. like the only way to stay alive was the air that passed through your mouth to his. and he rejoiced at that. he’d be willing to live with you as his source of oxygen.

gaining back some composure he pushes you back and places you on the counter. you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in further. his tongue tries to find its way into your mouth but you don’t budge. instead you giggle into the kiss and he takes it as an indication to kiss your teeth.

his lips move over your jaw, lightly nipping at the skin at the space under your ear. his tongue pokes out and traces your ear lobe once, twice and then he nibs down on the cartilage playfully with a whine of your name. the oven’s beeping brings you both out of the love lust trance you’re in.

he huffs and moves back to turn off the oven while you turn off the stove and grab another spoon of syrup. he turns back to see you leaning back on an arm and kicking your feet – dropping the sticky syrup over your clothed perked nipples. the lack of a bra evident. “oops” you pout, feigning innocence.

his breath seizes at the scene unfolding in front of him. he licks his lips once and then without wasting any more time, his mouth moves over your chest. licking the syrup off your shirt and in the process stimulating your nipples just like you hoped. he pulls off your shirt and throws it behind somewhere behind but before he can go further you stop him “wait!”.

“not in the kitchen,” you speak timidly – a flush creeping up your neck at his lustful stare. pressure builds in your stomach at the way he’s looking at you and you squeeze your thighs for a bit of friction.

“where?” he asks as he picks you up. “anywhere but the kitchen,” you whisper into the skin of his neck as you place a chaste kiss. and then he’s dropping down to his knees with you. laying you on the wooden floor of your living room

he leaves you on the floor for a beat and then comes back with the pot filled with syrup. he peels of your sweatpants along with your soaked panties. “lay still,” he tells you and you straighten out your legs and arms.

using you as his canvas he grabs the pot of syrup and tilts it over your body. creating a pattern of syrup on your naked body. he places the pot back on the counter and admires his work. a thoughtful grin on his face as he makes eye contact with you. “can i take a photo of you?” he asks and you nod without a second thought. he grabs your phone and snaps a pic. this image of yours would be imprinted in his mind forever and more.

“look at how beautiful you look,” and surely you do. sprawled out over the wooden floors of your apartment with a sticky substance covering your body. but that’s not all. the sun shines through the curtains, casting your body in an ethereal light and a ring of light on your head acting as a halo. “just like an angel. my angel. aren’t you baby?” he asks for confirmation.

and maybe it’s too early to say but you do anyway. “only yours, satoru. always yours,” you utter the words he’s been waiting for – well he feels like his whole life but in reality it’s only been three months since you two started this relationship.

the intensity of his gaze has a shiver run over your body and you can feel goosebumps erupt across your skin. he moves on top of you. taking his time with your body. licking over and over until he cleans the syrup. you almost feel like you’re not breathing as his mouth moves over your neck, collarbones, chest, stomach – lapping and littering your skin with love bites.

before moving further down he gives you a deep kiss and you can taste the sweetness of the syrup on his tongue as it tangles with yours. but it’s so incredibly satoru, to be tasting this sweet you can’t help but suck his tongue a little.

finally he spreads your thighs and makes himself at home. licking a quick stripe to test your wetness. there’s so much arousal it has him wondering if you already came. your nubs a shade darker, almost angry at being away from him for so long. he coos at your pussy as it was a separate being. “you missed me, didn’t you?” a peck to your clit. “i missed you too, but your mommy was tryna keep us apart.” you can’t help but laugh at the endearing silliness of him speaking to your pussy. faking a gasp he whispers “i know! it’s okay. going to take such good care of you now,” this time he looks at you.

his tongue moves over your bundle of nerves pressing down on your nub stimulating it just the right amount and plunging a finger into your cunt. his eyes flutter close at your taste. “nothing comes close to your sweetness, darling” he groans. your hands tangle in his head as he continues sucking your clit. you moan his name “ha ha ‘m so close toru.” so he speeds up his pace – licking ferociously, wanting you to reach your high quicker.

you come with a scream of his name. eyes shut and fingers tugging his hair but he has no complaints. he loved the sting when you tugged his hair like this – when you were too fucked out to even realize you were doing it.

he frees his cock and he feels like he can breath a bit better now. his hardened cock turns impossibly harder when you reach a hand down and pump it a few times and he watches in awe. pre cum lathering his length.

“you doing okay?” he asks you from above aligning himself but not pushing in. “yeah,” you hum but you’re lost in thought. about last night. but satoru notices everything. he squeezes your cheeks so you look at him. “what’s wrong?” genuinely concerned.

“i was hurt last night when you didn’t show up on time. and i didn’t understand why i was so hurt because it’s not like we’re dating or anything. but seeing that pic of you, out with those people hurt. cause i was here waiting for you, wanting to surprise you with a dress i bought, that i thought you’d like. but that doesn’t matter. what i’m trying to say is that this is more than just sex for me satoru. i really really like you. i want more of you. more of this. more of us.” you confess all that you’ve held in since this past few weeks of being apart from him.

he doesn’t say anything for a moment, reeling in your confession. you feel like you’ve ruined whatever you had going on. “satoru, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way” in fact it wasn’t. you’d be heartbroken if he didn’t feel the same way. “you don’t have to say anything. i just, i-“ you’re about to continue but he cuts you off with a hard kiss. “i do too. all that you said. i too, want more of you, more of this, more of us. it’s more than just sex for me too, baby. has been for a while. i’m really sorry about last night. wear that dress for me tonight, please.” he pleads. “i’ll cook you a nice dinner and we can have our first date as an official couple. what’d you say?” he smiles softly.

your heart clenches at overwhelming emotions and tears line your eyes as you repeat yes over and over again until he’s kissing you and drinking the love out of you.

he carries you over to your bedroom and lays beside you. he grabs your leg and places it over his hip, lining his cock with your cunt. slowly he pushes into you. you both moan in unison. him at the feeling of your snug walls and you at the feeling of his cock stretching you apart.

your foreheads touch as you maintain eye contact. he thrusts into you ever so lovingly. languid and hard thrusts. as if you both had all the time in the world.

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

a/n: idk how i feel abt this 💔😭 but i hope you liked it. comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated!

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lvis44 · 2 months ago

Text

Senna or Superman // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Warnings: Language, Angst, Talk of this seasons difficulties, Suggestive dialogue, (Felipe Massa jump scare mention), Not Edited

Word Count: 4.3k+

Summary: Brazil 2024 was unforgiving, but amidst it all some greatness can still be achieved.

Notes: Hey y'all, like I said, I was feeling like typing and needed to work on something different for a second and I think I can speak for all of us that today had me feeling all of the emotions. There's definitely some angst in here but a lot of it is just absolute fluff and reader being an absolute Stan of her boyfriend, bc who wouldn't be if they were dating Lewis Hamilton, lets be real. Also, I've said it once I will say it again, I cannot follow a tense to save my life to ignore that. Kisses xxxx!!!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

You hadn’t gotten much sleep and you were feeling it as you sat in the back of the Mercedes garage. Lewis had been hyper and full of anxious energy when he returned to the hotel last night. He had spent most of the previous day bobbing around the paddock like an energetic child, complaining about the delay in qualifying and trying to convince anyone that would listen to him that they should be sent out to try and put a lap together. He’s in Brazil, he wants to put on a show, but he’d been forced to wait much to his dismay and that had left you having to deal with him. He had been hyper after being so ready to go but never getting the release from his adrenaline and also annoyed that the sport had changed so much, yapping on about how when he first got to F1 they would have sent them out and that danger and adrenaline is a key part of the sport. You tried incessantly to get him to chill but you really had to just let him wear himself out, much like an actual child. It wasn’t until later in the evening, laying against his chest after finally convincing him to try to get some sleep, that you really got the answer to his emotions.

“I’m so excited and honored that I’m driving the MP4 tomorrow, but I’m also nervous. I was so prepared to do it today but having to wait, delaying the gratification, it’s really getting to me.” Lewis whispered into the comfortable silence, surprising you with the unprompted admission.

“It’s even more iconic to do it on race day.” You told him softly, rubbing your hand against his warm chest hoping to lighten the weight of whatever way playing in his mind.

He just hummed in response, evidently deep in his thoughts, his arm tightening around you ever so slightly.

“It’s understandable that you’re nervous Lew, you’re driving a piece of history, not just history to the sport but to your own personal journey and career. You’ve been asked to drive your idols car, the man is the reason you found your calling. Superman or Senna, right?” You kept your voice quiet, realizing that he needed to talk this through a bit more but not wanting to disrupt the peace that had settled around the two of you.

He smiled down at you as he heard the last part of your statement, chuckling lightly, “Superman or Senna, yes indeed.” He trailed off for a moment, the soft smile lingering on his lips as he stared at the ceiling, almost as if reminiscing over those years when those were his two goals in life, back as a young boy in Stevenage. “What’s kinda funny is that it’s not that I’m really nervous about driving the car itself, like I feel confident in that part, I feel like I’m more than capable. It’s that I’m nervous that I don’t deserve this or something, this is a big deal and I would never want anyone to regret this decision or something. I honestly don’t even really know, like I don’t know why they would regret it I just, I don’t know. Just not really sure I’m worthy of this.” He finished his rant, letting out a deep sigh.

Hearing his thoughts caused you to sit up, no longer caring if you broke the peace in the room. You stared directly at him, eyes locked with his that were evidently startled at your abrupt departure from your cuddle.

“Lewis, I need you to listen to me. They chose you, Senna's family specifically chose you and asked you.” You started, poking him in the chest for emphasis before putting the same finger over his lips to shush him when he tried to argue. “They could have asked any of the other drivers on the grid, they could have asked a retired driver, they could honestly have asked whoever the hell they wanted, but no they asked for you. Not the current reigning champion, not the owner of the car, not even a Mclaren driver. They asked you, not only because they recognize your talent but because they see him in you. They see the love and respect that the people of Brazil have for you and they see you return that tenfold. This beautiful country made you a citizen for a reason, they see you carry that flag with the same pride as your own. Lew even Felipe Massa said that you deserve to be the one to drive that car and isn’t he like literally suing you right now?”

You finally let out a huff before the both of you erupt in a fit of giggles, Lewis forcefully pulling you back down to him to wrap you tightly in his arms.

“I didn’t know he said that, honestly rather shocking because yeah, pretty sure he is. But ya know, I heard he’s running out of money.” His lips hold a smirk as he looks down at you before you’re both consumed by another fit of giggles. “Thank you,” He whispers once you’ve both calmed down, his lips against your forehead, “I needed to hear that. You know I get too much in my own head sometimes. Still have a hard time believing that all of this is real after everything I’ve been through, where I came from, ya know?”

“I do,” You say, tilting your head up to press a soft kiss to his lips, “you’re allowed to still revel in it, even after all this time. It truly is mental, even if it’s been this way for a while now. And by the way, I’m pretty sure the only reason they would ever regret letting you drive that car is if you crash it into a wall and break it, so just don’t do that and I’m pretty sure everything will be just fine.” You giggle, giving him another kiss.

“Well damn woman, no pressure or anything.” He fakes offence before splitting into a grin with you.

“Hey,” you say, your voice softer again, “I know I’m biassed and all, but know that I can’t think of anyone more deserving of this honor and I am so incredibly proud of you. I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back the tears when I see you in that Mclaren tomorrow. You are an incredibly blessed man but you do not take it for granted and I am honoured that I get to see how incredible you are every single day, as a driver, as a partner, but most importantly as a human. Let yourself enjoy this Lew, you deserve it and I will be there watching in awe.”

“I love you so so much.” He says, his voice thick with emotion as he pulls you impossibly closer to him.

“I love you too,” You tell him softly, placing a kiss on his chest where he has squished your face into him, “now get some sleep, you have to be up in a few hours for that stupid early morning quali.”

Lewis had left early in the morning, sneaking out of bed around 3:30 to get ready. Only waking you accidentally when he placed a soft kiss on your forehead as he was leaving. He was apologetic, telling you to go back to sleep and that he would see you at the track. Not that you were able to get much more sleep, needing to get up and get ready yourself if you wanted any chance of making it there on time. When you had finally arrived to the garage, you made sure to perch yourself in the back, trying to stay out of the way of all the busy people rushing around you.You only got to see Lewis for a brief moment, only having enough time to give him a quick kiss and send him off with a final good luck encouragement. It was pointless though, you both knew the car wasn’t going to perform to Lewis’ liking. If anything it had somehow gotten worse for this weekend.

As you sat in the garage watching on you couldn’t help but cringe. Lewis was battling with the car, not even making it out of Q1. You knew his mood wouldn’t be amazing when he finally made his way back to you after going to be weighed and speak to the media. You watched the next session, baffled by the sheer chaos unfolding and you couldn’t help but pray that the race would end up being better. The grid was out of position and red flags were being thrown left and right. You let out a sigh when you saw your man finally enter the garage, his helmet still on. He stopped momentarily to speak with some of his engineers, shaking peoples hands and thanking them for their hard work. He finally locked onto you, gesturing for you to follow him as he made his way to his drivers room. When you walked in behind him you could see how heavy his shoulders were. His helmet had been discarded on the bench beside him but he still hadn’t turned around.

“Hey, we knew it was gonna be shit, right?” You said quietly, putting your hand on his damp back.

“Yeah, we did. I’m just so ready for this season to be over.” He finally said, letting out a deep breath as he turned to face you.

“We’re so close babe, so so close. And for now we get to take a little time away from this devil of a car.” You told him, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands found your waist. Not caring one bit that he was soggy from the rain and the sweat, just content to be with your guy.

“Still got a race to do hun.” He reminded you, kissing his teeth.

“Oh I know, but let’s not think about that right now. I was talking about you getting behind the wheel of a Mclaren MP4 for a little while instead.” You smirk, leaning up towards his now smiling face.

“A proper race car.” He says, his smile threatening to split his face.

This is what you wanted, you wanted him to revel in the joy, revel in the honor of driving such an incredible car. Enjoy being behind the wheel of a Championship winning car once again even if it was only for a few laps and unlike the cars he was used to winning in.

“A legacy meant for a hometown hero to carry on, and a race car meant for a World Champion. It’s been waiting for another great to stretch its legs and they found just the right Brazilian for the job.” You whispered to him, your faces incredibly close now.

“If you keep talking like that I might end up locking you in here.” His voice is teasing as he wraps his arms around you.

“As much as I desperately want to say yes to that, I do believe you have something to get ready for.” You sigh, pulling back and patting his chest.

“I do, but we’ll use it for motivation later, I might need it.” He says as he peels himself off of you, his voice is playful but you both know he’s dead serious.

“The second we leave this track, I am all yours for as long as you want or need.” You promise, watching as he starts to change and prepare to go meet the Mclaren mechanics that have been looking after the historical car.

You sit in a comfortable peace for a while, occasionally exchanging words about little things that don’t really matter that much, just enjoying being in his space. You know that when the day is over you will have a full debrief, all of the frustration that he’s setting aside for this moment will inevitably bubble up once he’s in the safe privacy of the two of you alone, but for now you entertain his small talk and let him start to get excited about his incredible moment as he gets himself ready. When he’s ready he turns to you with childlike excitement bubbling at the surface and you can feel your heart swell.

“This is a good look for you.” You tell him, eyeing the all white suit with the Brazilian flag at his waist.

“I’m still mad I can’t wear his actual helmet.” Lewis grumbles with a shake of his head.

“I hate to say, I actually agree with them on that one babe, let’s keep your head safe, yeah?” You laugh.

“I know I know, don’t think it would even fit on my head anyway.” He playfully groans, making his way over to you.

“I like the special helmet for this weekend though, it’s still a tribute.” You remind him, knowing he’s half joking but wanting him to be fully confident when he steps out.

He nods, taking a moment to admire you before he’s pulling you close and landing his lips on yours in a kiss that takes you by surprise with its force.

“Thank you, for everything,” He starts when he finally pulls away, his forehead resting on yours, “for reminding me that I’m allowed to revel in this, for keeping me grounded,for letting me be excited, just for everything.”

“Hey, that’s why I’m here. You do the exact same for me when I need it, it’s why we work so well.” You say quietly, your hand coming to stroke his beard gently.

“If I don’t get to see you before I get in the car, just know your words from last night are gonna be in my head the entire time. I’m gonna let myself enjoy this, let myself feel this. Nothing else about today matters other than honouring and paying tribute to my childhood hero and getting to live out my childhood dreams of driving the car that made me want to start racing around the circuit that introduced me to another home.” His voice holds excitement and certainty as he speaks that makes you want to cry and kiss him all at once.

You’ve never been quite so proud of the man in front of you. Yes, you’ve cheered for him since the beginning, before you even met him. You’ve wept when he’s broken records and won each and every championship. Yet nothing quite compares to seeing this amazing moment and knowing just how much he deserves it, knowing that there is no one better to hold this responsibility and honor. There is no one like Aryton Senna and truly there never will be, and there is no one like Lewis Hamilton and there truly never will be.

“You know you’re doing for millions what he did for you, right?” You whisper, hoping he knows just the level of inspiration he gives to everyone watching him, young and old alike.

“I know, and it’s amazing to be able to do that.” He says, his smile warm.

You don’t say another word, giving him a long kiss, feeling connected to him in a way you both need in the moment, albeit for much different reasons. You are pouring every ounce of pride and amazement into the kiss, hoping he can feel it, while he is absorbing the love and reassurance that comes with your touch, letting himself feel his greatness and humble himself all at once. Finally there is a knock at the door, signalling that he really needs to get going, causing you to part from each other reluctantly.

“Okay, I gotta go do the most amazing thing of my entire career.” He says with a smile, “Be here when I get back?”

“I can’t promise I won’t be sobbing out near the pit wall but I will definitely find you, promise.” You laugh, giving him one last kiss before he grabs his helmet and makes his way over to the media garage where the incredible car is being stored for him.

It takes you a little while to get out to the pit lane that is already lined with people. You wish you could be closer, see the car up close but this isn’t your moment. Today is for Senna's family and the people of Brazil, you are just lucky enough to be able to witness the incredible moment in person.You know Lewis is somewhere down the pitlane, most likely trying to stay calm as he geeks out over the amazing machine he is about to drive. He has driven one of Senna’s cars before, but not in a long time, and not in this setting, not with this honor and audience. You also know that no matter how many times he may have had the privilege of being around and driving incredible race cars, he is a racing driver through and through and the excitement will never change. While you’re standing there smiling to yourself, thinking about how excited Lewis must be and taking in the incredible aura of the crowd, you catch sight of the live stream playing on the jumbotron. There he is, getting in his idols car, you watch as he takes a moment to really take it in just before he’s being strapped in. It’s funny to you to see him surrounded by Mclaren mechanics again, to see the goodyear tires you remember from your first ever F1 races. Then they’re rolling him out and the crowd gets their first in person glimpse of the car over the wall and the cheers echo through your soul. It takes a few more minutes for them to be ready and the atmosphere is building with anticipation but then they start the engine. The first rumble sends a chill down your spine and silences the track. The sound of the V10 roaring to life evoked a visceral feeling from you, bringing back memories of why you fell in love with the sport as a child in the first place and you could only imagine what the emotions coursing through Lewis in that moment were. You saw him shake his head in disbelief as he revved the engine and you could just picture the boyish grin that would be covering his face at that moment. Then it cut, he stalled, and you heard the boos and wanted to run and protect him. You knew it wasn’t his fault, and realistically you knew the crowd wasn’t booing him, they were booing the disruption of the soundtrack that was the incredible V10 engine and you also knew Lewis was smart enough to know that as well. The mechanics were quick, getting the engine back up rapidly and soon enough Lewis was headed out toward the track. He took a moment, the mechanics meeting him again and you prayed that everything would go to plan, this moment was too important to everyone for anything not to be perfect. And then you saw him, speeding past you in Senna’s Mclaren down the pit straight. The spray of water adding to the moment as he waved at the fans who were evidently stunned at the spectacle in front of them. Their recently adopted hero bringing them back to a moment with their lifelong hero. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you watched him complete lap after flawless lap, handling the car like he’d been driving it for years. You could only imagine what the emotions flowing through his body must be, so incredibly grateful to be able to witness the moment. When you saw him stop to grab the flag your tears picked up, watching the beauty of the moment as he completed his dream of waving his new country's flag as he drove his idol's car with no hands around the wet track. Everything about the moment was pure poetry.

By the time he parked the car on the grid, you were sure there wasn’t a dry eye in the entirety of Sao Paulo. You watched through teary eyes as Viviane went and spoke to him as he collected himself in the cockpit. You could see her thanking him and you knew that he was thanking her just as profusely. You tried to dry your eyes as you watched them pose with Senna's helmet while Lewis sat in the car, but they came back quickly. You finally managed to pull yourself together just a little bit as you watched him pose with flag but the second he knelt down next to the car as if to thank it for everything it had done for him and his idol, you lost it again, You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself just a bit, your emotions were definitely getting the best of you. You could see the emotion on Lewis’ face as he too pulled himself together to get ready for the interview. He was beaming, eternally grateful for the opportunity. You listened as he described his love for Brazil and the love he has received from the fans, you could hear the emotion thick in his voice the entire time, even through the incredible joy that was paired with it. You knew he meant it when he said it was the ‘honor of his career’ and you were certain this would be a moment that neither of you ever forgot. Everything about it was purely beautiful, seeing everyone pause for something so meaningful, you weren’t sure you had ever seen the sport so at one in your entire life.

When you saw him finally making his way to the pit lane you scramble to try to pull yourself together, hoping to be somewhat emotionally sound when you went to meet him in his drivers room, but he found you first, a strong arm slinking around your waist before you were being crushed in a tight hug. When he finally let you go you took a moment to take him in. The emotions were written all over his face, the weight of the profound moment sinking in for him as the joy was palpable. He took in your state, his eyes softening, knowing that every emotion on your face came from your love for him and your love for the sport.

“C’mon, lets go be alone for a second.” He said softly, guiding you toward the garage.

When you were safely inside his drivers room you turned to him, your words dying on your tongue as they didn’t feel enough to express just how proud of him you were. Instead you opted to grasp his face in your hands and kiss him, hard, tears falling down your cheeks as you did. When you finally parted from him you saw that the smile had never left his face.

“I think you’re more emotional about that entire thing than I am.” He teased you softly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek.

“Stop it,” You laughed, swatting at him pathetically, “I’m just so proud of you and so happy for you. I can only imagine what that meant to you.”

“Yeah, it was surreal, never had so many emotions at once. It felt incredible, it truly felt like a dream come true.” He said as he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you toward him.

“I was right you know, there was no one more suited for that than you.” You tell him softly.

“You were absolutely right, that felt perfect, Viviane was so kind and so grateful, I will never forget this.” He sighs and you can tell the weight of the weekend is leaving his body with it.

“Nothing else that happens this weekend matters, okay? This was what it was all for.” You assure him, placing your hand on the side of his neck.

“Thank you, you’re right, that was truly the only reason I am here this weekend, none of the rest matters in the slightest.” His eyes are soft as he melts into your touch.

“I know you said you wanted to be Senna or Superman but I think you may have achieved both just now. You are more than a hero to just about everyone here, me included.” You tell him softly, staring deep into his eyes as you do.

“That means a lot, I felt it while I was out there. It was a crazy feeling, getting to be that for everyone.” He says earnestly.

“You do it way more frequently than you think, even if you haven’t been feeling it lately.” You assure him, wanting him to know just how much you mean it.

He doesn’t respond but you can tell he’s just taking it in as he lets out a breath and traces circles on your hip. He’s a confident man, cocky at times, but even the strongest of soldiers can be weak in the face of defeat.

“I know you are a natural born competitor, but let's make a deal that your only objective today is just to come back to me in one piece. That’s all I ask of you.” You say after a moment, listening to the rain pickup against the roof.

“I will absolutely come back to you, but I ain’t making any promise about not also trying to pull that tractor as far forward as I can.” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Okay fair enough, just need you in tiptop shape to be my superman when we get back to the hotel tonight.” You smirk, pinching his bicep.

“Well when you put it like that why don’t we just leave on a high note and head back right now?” He asks playfully, pulling you closer to him.

“I’m down, but you’ve gotta go keep being both Senna and Superman.” You giggle.

“Okay, I’ll do my best, but I’m still holding you to that even if this race is shit.” He says, pinching your bum.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

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thesilmarillionblog · 3 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 ── Part 4

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: In the hopes that things would improve between you, you choose to lose your virginity to your friend Dean Winchester because you have been in love with him madly for a long time. However, he doesn't feel the same about you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: +18! (Minors DNI), SMUT! Halloween Party, sensitive topics, discussions, unprotected sex, jealousy, sexual tension, heavy angst, insecure and confused reader, angst, painful

Word Count: 11.1K

A/N: English is not my first language.

🎃🕸️── Halloween Special Part ──🕸️🎃 Song: 'Honeythief' by Halou.

“Can we talk properly?” Upon hearing that you wished to return home, Dean implied he regretted what he said earlier. What is done was done though.

You cut him off abruptly, saying, “I really don't want to,” and indicated the need to stop talking to Dean about the depth of your friendship with Robb. What he asked wasn’t appropriate and though he knew it, he had asked a second time with a more rude manner. “I am really exhausted. A lot.”

To change your opinion, Dean replied, “Sam invited you,” as if telling you that Sam's suggestion was any better. Your wish to return home was overwhelming.

This time, you spoke out with a firm tone. “Really, Dean,” avoiding his gaze with a turn to face the road. “The next day I'll be working too. I should definitely get some sleep. It was a very busy day. I can’t feel my legs.”

“Alright.”

Dean shut his mouth, not wanting to annoy you any longer, and considered the bond you have with Robb. Dean wondered if the son of a bitch had already made a move on you since he was quite sure he was up to something. He found it disturbing that he would have to work together with you at the hospital in the days to come.

Sighing, he took a quick glance at you and seeing that you were staring at the road while lost in thoughts. It was only a simple question; maybe he shouldn't have asked it that way, but he did not like the thought of getting on your nerves. Maybe you were simply too exhausted for a brief discussion. He didn't mean to hurt your feelings. But he felt bizarrely pleased that you and that man hadn't shared any intimate past. He wasn't your type anyway. Too tall and too skinny for your taste. Dean was sure of that.

You knew you arrived when Dean pulled over. He should have been aware of the boundaries; it wasn't that you wanted to part ways with him that way and watch him leave. You hated seeing him leave. Your mind and heart yearned for intimacy.

Dean responded, “I'll pick you up tomorrow morning,” just as you were about to get out.

“Alright, good night. Tell Sammy that I'm sorry and also worn out.”

Even if you didn't get the finest sleep of your life, at least Dean showed your home sooner than you anticipated and brought coffee. You kindly turned down his offer to have breakfast together because you would be late for work. In reality, it was primarily due to his strangely impolite behavior recently. You made every effort to remain normal and behave as though nothing had occurred between you and him. But even though you tried your best and talked to him very normally, he had been acting like a jerk, as though it was your fault all along.

That's why you made the decision to set a few boundaries despite what your heart felt. If not, Dean would end up hurting you much more. Love was an awful type of disease.

“Will you be coming tonight?” Dean asked as you turned to face him and opened the door.

You just stated, “I don't want to.” Although your anger had subsided from yesterday, you still felt uncomfortable and needed some alone time.

“Why not?” Dean softly inquired, clearly taken aback by your answer. After all, you never used to reject him for anything.

Fuck, you didn't even say no when he approached you for your first quick sexual experience. When Dean spoke, you had to learn to say no. For real. Otherwise, you had no idea what to do, even if he dragged your head between his legs right away. Your face turned red. You felt pathetic.

“Robb and I will be having our dinner tonight. Outaide. We haven't spent much time together lately,” you stated while looking at your watch. You still had some more time.

Dean's hands tightened around the steering wheel. There was no doubt that Robert would be a pain in the ass. Deal was becoming increasingly irritated by knowing that you would be spending the entire night with him; in fact, it was making him want to break Robert's face.

“I'll make dinner. You are welcome to bring Robb, your buddy,” Dean said. Before he could stop himself, he spoke. After all, he was never particularly good at thinking twice. “He's new here after all, and he can get to know his friend's friends by himself.”

Although Dean's offer seemed sweet and generous, you still raised an eyebrow and were ready to say no. You asked naively, “Really?”

“Yeah.” Dean smiled a bit at you, seeing that you were already thinking about accepting his offer. That wasn't too difficult, he guessed. “Making new friends and having dinner together would be awesome.”

When you eventually said, “Okay,” you looked at your watch and said, “But I have to ask Robb first, then I'll give you a call. I have to go right now.”

Dean picked up your bag and handed it to you when he noticed you had forgotten it. “Okay. After you speak with him, give me a call. Take care.”

Because you were restless and kept yawning, you continued receiving warnings; thus, the rest of the day didn't go as smoothly as you had planned. You could get some relaxation at the end of the week which was two days late. It was Halloween Week after all. You had no plans though. Remembering that you had spent it in your own house doing nothing, your heart clenched with sorrow.

You didn't have enough time to chat with Robert because the emergency was so busy. In the meantime, he was consumed with his own work. When lunchtime rolled around, you managed to get his attention and told him that Dean offered an invitation for dinner. You awaited Robert's rejection. In fact, you would feel better if you avoided seeing Dean for a day at the very least. You needed some time alone for yourself. God, what made you say "yes" in the first place?

Robb, much to your surprise, accepted the offer with enthusiasm and stated that you all should spend time all together. He had also wanted to know who your pals were. If he found out that you and the Winchester brothers were ghost hunters, you wondered what kind of reaction he would have. He would suggest that you see a doctor. You'd die because of embarrassment.

You were going to tell him that you knew Dean from when he helped you a year or so ago and was skilled at fixing cars. That would be enough as an explanation. Of course, you had to warn Dean first. Your face reddened as you thought back to when he had mentioned how good you were about using your hands. God knew what exactly he meant. He was an asshole. Sometimes.

Sam shot Dean a strange glance when he placed everything he bought from the grocery store.

“What are these for?”

Dean revealed, “We have a special guest for dinner tonight.”

The fact that he had asked your friend to come to the dinner made him uncomfortable. He was an absolute stranger. Still, it was preferable to letting you and him share a night together. He believed that you two were growing more and more apart every day, and you two had too much to talk about. It seemed like Robert would be an obstable.

The more time you spend with Robert, the more boundaries you build between you and him. That wasn't right. You were, after all, a long-time member of the family. A year of hunting wasn't an exaggeration.

“Who?” Sam inquired, puzzled by Dean's peculiar behavior.

“Y/N and her friend, Robb.”

“Is she in a relationship already? I can't believe she would act that quickly.” Sam laughed out loud, enjoying the memory of his conversation with you. He was unaware that you would meet a man so quickly. Would that make him a friend or a good manipulator? As long as the result was beneficial for you, Sam was okay with both.

Dean nearly threw the tomato at Sam's big head, but he restrained himself.

“She's not in a relationship,” Dean stated calmly. “And what you mean you didn't think she would act so fast?”

Sam grinned triumphantly, assuming from his previous words of encouragement that you were already in a relationship. After all, you needed a break from your job and the anxiety it caused. You have the right to pursue your own pleasure.

“Remember the night that she spent here the day before? We had been watching TV, and I asked Y/N whether she was seeing someone. Jo and you were enjoying your little fun. Remember now? You know, we are spending time together and going hunting, but for gods sake, I've never seen her with anyone,” Sam remarked, trying to think back on every minute of your conversation.

As Dean chopped the tomatoes, he frowned, remembering the terrible night he had spent with Jo. He was still tormenting himself over the time he liked fucking her while he thought of your body throughout that moment. When he thought back on these times, Dean felt uneasy. He didn't know what had overcome him to do something that shouldn't have been done in the first place.

“And?” Dean remarked, pushing Sam to continue. Regarding the other subjects Sam had brought up, he remained silent.

“And I asked her whether she's into someone already or if she simply doesn't let people into her life. To be honest, I still don't know the answer, but I told her to see someone at least,” Sam said, beaming with pride at having offered you some helpful guidance. “I mean, she's been lonely for a long time, and her job is already too stressful,” he added. Actually, he wasn't all that excellent at managing his own life, but he was wonderful at offering advice and listening.

Dean felt a bit better when he heard that Sam hadn't seen you with anybody before, but he wasn't pleased about Sam's attempts to give you dumb advice that seemed totally useless. “She's not alone. She is one of us. And why would you fill her troubled head with such stupid ideas? Her work requires a lot of effort and energy already,” Dean said, annoyed with his brother's jerky behavior.

You were handling too many things at once; therefore, it was helpful to avoid relationships and to quit doing meaningless things like dating. It was too much for you to handle. Dean was aware of how demanding and time-consuming nursing was. In short, relationships took a lot of time. Right now, you were too vulnerable and too soft to handle a man.

Bewildered by Dean's comments, Sam tried to defend himself. “What even are you saying, Dean? She won't be living alone for very long. Her entire family is gone. She is, of course, one of us, but it's very reasonable that she would desire to start her own family as a form of escape. She is not a child to protect; she is an adult.”

Dean scowled at Sam and rolled his eyes. It seems as though his brother would never stop bombarding you with his rubbish thoughts. Dean was sure that you would listen to his brother's idiotic words and, worse, that you would take them seriously because you were too naive.

“You had to be kidding me. Why on earth are you giving her such crap ideas? She shouldn't spend her little spare time with a man for just that reason. Dealing with a man's shit is more difficult than her job, which is already tough enough. Ask your partner. She will probably whine about how annoying you are occasionally. I'm sure she has much to tell.”

“Takes one to know one, huh?” Having no idea about Dean's behavior, Sam raised an eyebrow. His brother was behaving strangely these days, for sure. Particularly about you. One of Dean's specialties was being overly protective and acting oddly tough. “Have you met her friend yet?”

“Yeah.”

“And? Is he working in the same hospital with her or?” Sam asked curiously.

Dean answered, “Yes, he's a doctor.” To observe how he was treating you while at work, perhaps he should get himself a fake identity and pretend to be a doctor for a day. Dean wondered if Robert treated you well.

“They would make a great couple, huh? A nurse and a doctor. Sounds lovely enough and a bit...kinky.”

Lovely my ass.

“Why don't you help me, my lovely brother, instead of just sitting on your ass there uttering bullshit? She is your friend too,” Dean bitterly said, “I can't do the entire work by myself.” It seemed as though Sam had made it his mission to irritate Dean today. He wasn't sure if Sam was doing it on purpose. His brother was always a hopeless romantic bitch, but he never knew the ideal partner for himself and neither for you.

“Will you invite Jo?” Sam inquired, uninterested about Dean's plea for assistance. He was not even fond of kitchen stuff. It was something he never liked.

“Fuck, no. Not that we are in a relationship. We're not seeing each other anymore.”

“Friends with benefits then?” Sam seemed to find the concept disgusting. How someone could fuck another every day without feeling anything at all was beyond his comprehension. Perhaps that was the reason for your prolonged single status. But for Dean, if he was in the mood for fuck, it didn't matter if he felt anything as long as the person had a pussy.

“Fine. Good.” Sighing, Sam noticed Dean's sharp gaze as he cut the tomatoes, as if he wanted to throw the knife at him.

When you saw Robert outside after he had to wait an hour for your shift to end, you felt awkward and apologized for something that wasn't your fault. He was polite and understanding enough to accept Dean's invitation, and he also waited for you in his car.

Following you, he drove his own car to Dean's house. You tried to calm Dean down over the phone after your small argument so that he wouldn't treat you like a child and rebuke just because you were talking on the phone while driving. He was the one to call you. In an attempt to avoid ruining the night, you made an effort to settle down beforehand.

It was annoying that when you told Dean what to tell Robb about how you met him and Sam since he didn't sound pleased. It was a story about Dean helping you with your car a year ago. It wouldn't be a lie; he was skilled at repairing after all. You couldn't tell if he liked Robb. It was insignificant, though. He should treat your friends with the same politeness that you showed him, along with his hookups and everyone else, even Jo. If not, you would have to really set a few boundaries.

You were clueless about how to make an impression on him during the last several days, or even if you could win him over at all. Almost everything made him angry.

Soon after Robb and you parked, you nervously knocked on the door. He was standing next to you, and you prayed he hadn't noticed your nervousness. It was soothing that he always had an infectious smile on his face. It was nice to see someone at ease and easygoing.

You briefly forgot how to breathe as Dean opened the door. You could smell his fresh fragrance from a distance, as if you were some animal. You couldn't tell if he had recently taken a shower or had simply changed his clothing. You blinked as your eyes met, and you forced yourself to look away from the tight, dark blue t-shirt that was revealing his enormous arms. You both awkwardly stood there, staring at one another without moving. You smelled like sweat and tiredness, most probably.

All of your fury at him vanished the instant you laid eyes on him, took in his piercing look, and smelled his clean scent. When your heart was beating wildly the moment you laid eyes on him, how were you going to set boundaries? Was there any chance for it?

Sam grinned broadly and said, “Hey,” reaching out to give you a hug as Robb walked in.

Sam gave you a tight embrace and said, “Welcome home,” as Dean and Robb exchanged strange looks.

Dean was staring at him as though he hadn't even invited him in the first place.

When Sam eventually quit holding you, Robet and Sam shook hands, and Dean tried to embrace you too, grabbing you by your belly, but you just murmured, “Hi, Dean,” smiling shyly, stroked his arm briefly, and hurried inside as you literally escaped from the hug though your heart craved for touching.

You didn't think you could resist melting in his arms and forgetting all he said if he gave you a hug right then. You weren't the god's strongest soldier. Plus, you were positive you smelled awful.

Dean's fingers burnt as soon as he touched you to pull to himself to give you a hug. He tried to make things normal and wanted you to comfortable with him just like you were comfortable with Sam. However, watching you escape from his hug with a simple greeting and a light touch, Dean's body tensed. He was consumed by your timid and icy behaviour as if you hadn't talked him about how you wanted things to be normal.

It didn't calm him up to see you being touchy with Robb and Sam. Moreover, Dean was already becoming irritated. It was a bad idea to invite a complete stranger. God. He should have considered his words wisely before speaking.

You sat at the table and looked around to see whether Jo was present, but she was nowhere to be seen. When you gave Dean a questioning glance, he said nothing. He assumed you were exhausting. You moved so slowly and heavily that it was simple to understand.

Robb interrupted, “Everything looks delicious,” while Dean continued to give you serious eye contact. “Thanks for having me.”

Dean smirked widely and continued, “Don't mention it.” You exhaled a sigh of relief. "So how was your day?"

While you were fiddling with your food, Dean continued to eat, and you began to eat as well, though you weren't sure if you were truly hungry or not. You just felt a little anxious. Trying to unwind a little while, you watched Sam enjoy his food and listened to Dean and Robb. You hoped that your earlier action of trying to run away from Dean's touch hadn't offended him in any way.

Robert responded shyly, “It was exhausting enough. But there weren't any deaths today, fortunately, which is not very common nowadays.”

“I bet. It's undeniable that these are crazy times,” Dean said while his mouth was full. Dear God. “But in emergencies, I'm sure things are much more crazier. There's no denying that the staff there deserve far more respect. Especially nurses.”

You nervously smiled and said, “Thanks, Dean,” acknowledging his sincere admiration for the work you were doing. “Robb is also quite deserving of respect. It's not easy to save someone's life and to see someone else lose their life at your hands. To be honest, I deal with broken bones and bandages on people's cut bodies mostly.”

“Well, I'm grateful. When it comes to medical problems and saving lives, there is no such thing as a little or huge job.” Robert sipped on his wine and stated, “I assure you, honey, you're very good at your job. That's sufficient.”

Dean rolled his eyes, carried on with his dinner, and gave Sam a quick glance. Rather than eating in solitude and messaging his girlfriend, his brother should have supported him in interrogating the doctor. In an attempt to get to know your friend, Dean felt as though he was battling alone.

“Would you also save the life of a terrorist? or that of a rapist?” Dean inquired abruptly, and you gave him a stern look to let him know he was pushing things a little too far.

When he invited you and Robert for dinner, you expected him to act nice and fix the complicated situation with you. However, he was determined to make you annoyed with his unpredictable behaviour. If only you could find a time to be alone with him right now, you could ask him to behave. You hoped he got the message when you frowned at his face.

Sam stated calmly, “Of course he is supposed to save people's lives no matter what,” and Dean briefly closed his eyes while smiling angrily. Even if his brother interrupted in this way, how in the world was he to question the morality of this dumb? He was doomed. Sam should have shut up instead of standing up for a stranger over Dean's face.

“I would and that’s what I’m doing,” Robb said in a tone as cold as was to be expected. “Even if some of these people are terrible and don't deserve to live, I made a vow to save their lives, not take them. Although I must admit that I don't enjoy it sometimes, I still do my best to help them. It is not my responsibility to judge them, put them in jail, or have them put to execution.”

You felt the air getting heavier, so you timidly put your hand on Robb's shoulder and patted him to express your sympathy and help him feel calmer. “And that's the right thing to do even if it doesn't feel right,” you mumbled. It was the kind of thing you had to answer every day, so you hoped Robb wouldn't take offense at Dean's question and that he wouldn't take it personally.

“I don't think I would do it though,” Dean stated, fiddling with his meal at the moment. It was ridiculous to watch how he toyed with his fork now.

With a broad smile, Robb said, “That's why I'm the doctor here and you are not,” seemingly trying to enrage Dean. As he thought he was being challenged as well, he didn't back down. They attempted to turn the talk into an ego battle, so you just rolled your eyes.

Aware of Dean's short temper, you gave Robb a hint by kicking him under the table. You then apologized and asked Dean for more wine.

“Dean had also questioned me with the same questions, which I'm sure were purely out of curiosity. After all, we all receive quite similar questions every day,” you remarked softly, hoping Dean wouldn't respond negatively this time and exacerbate the situation.

“Obviously. It is all curiosity. Don't take it personal.”

His remorse overcame him at seeing your timid and anxious appearance. It wasn't as though he invited your buddy and you to hurt feelings and spoil your evening again. It felt like a challenge, though, the way Robert called you nicknames while grinning slyly at Dean. If that guy stopped acting like he was more attractive, Dean might try to be more respectful. That guy was an asshole, though. He simply knew that being around you must make Robb feel more intelligent.

He had such a punchable face, especially when he smiled.

“How did you meet?” At last, Robb asked. If nothing else, you hoped he would help you ease the situation and stop getting on Dean's nerves.

You didn't trust Dean and cut him off as soon as he opened his lips. “He helped me with my car. It was a dreadful, rainy day that included a small accident. As you are aware, Dean is excellent at fixing cars,” you made and attempt to praise him. It was true. “And I am not very good at driving in the rain as you know. In fact, he's the best.” He gave you a hand with your vehicle on many different occasions. Those were beautiful, memorable times.

“His and Sam's girlfriends are also good friends of mine.” Now that was a complete lie. However, you didn't want Robb to make any comments about romance when they were seated at the table. You were not very good at hiding your feelings, and Robert had an innate ability for reading people.

But Dean was blind.

“That's right,” Dean remarked with a cold whisper, “I'm very good at fixing things and breaking things.” He gave you a stern look.

Sam smiled and nodded nervously, for it was true that you and Ruby were close enough. You had the impression that everything was going well for him. But Dean instantly entwined, saying, “Jo and I weren't a thing.” When he used the past tense, you scowled, and he saw the look of perplexity on your face. You stopped asking questions after that. He would soon find another partner. You were surprised he dated with her that long.

You asked Robert, “Do you have any plans for Halloween?” to change the topic.

You were wondering whether Robb had any plans for Halloween because you had never spent the holiday with Sam and Dean before. He loved cosplaying and was always coming up with the funniest and most original outfits compared to other people. To him, it was much like a hobby. You were better than him at thinking of the worst possible ideas, but it was still an enjoyable activity.

“Yes, without a doubt.” Robb swallowed the piece and took a drink of wine. “My costume is ready,” he declared with excitement. “By the way, I met an old friend of mine yesterday, and he informed me that he would be throwing a party this week. God, he told me some strange things.”

“Like what?” Sam cut him off. He sounded both interested and suspicious.

“I'm going to tell you what he told me, and I really hope you guys don't laugh at me. In any case, he told me that his house is definitely haunted. Not that I buy this garbage, but in the previous three years, there have been three murders that have all occurred in the same room during Halloween.”

Your eyes met Dean's, and Robert laughed shamefacedly, as if he were having trouble believing what he was saying since he has never believed in the supernatural events. Dean's excitement-filled eyes and altered posture suggested that he was missing hunting. You two hadn't spent any time together in a while.

“It may be a serial killing,” Sam guessed. “Who has been arrested for the murders? Any witnesses or suspects?”

“That's the unusual part,” Robb stated. “Neither witnesses nor suspects are there. If a killer exists, there was not a single piece of evidence that may lead the police to them. All guests over the past three years have been thoroughly investigated, but not a single person has been identified as a suspect. Given the killings, my buddy Jordan purchased the house a year ago for a rather low price. Although they haven't had any events in a while, it appears that the owners have made the decision to get rid of it.”

Before you could say a thing, Dean inquired, “How did those people die? Has your friend provided you with any details?”

“Yeah, it is sick. Every year, the victims had been discovered in the same room, nude on the bed. There's a high chance they were killed while having sex. Perhaps it's a one-person job, but for heaven's sake, I can't say a damn thing until I analyze the victims' bodies and determine just how they were killed. He informed me that a woman had been killed in the same room years before. I suppose this is the reason why people believe the house is certainly haunted. I don’t know man.”

“And your friend wants to organize a Halloween party in the same house?” Dean asked, surprised. He was still shocked that people were so keen on doing all the wrong things.

“Indeed,” Robb replied. “But we're not going to use that room. He'll exercise caution with this. All he wants to do this week is plan an awesome Halloween party. If it's okay with you, I'd want to invite the rest of you as well. No pressure.”

“We'll be there, of course,” Dean said immediately. He was thrilled that Sam and he got the invitation.

You give Dean a nod as he looks at you to see whether you're comfortable with it. This mysterious situation, including ghosts, might strengthen your relationship with Dean and help you two become as you once were. You were desperate for it, and the thought of acting like someone else excited you. It had been a long time.

It was pleasant enough for the rest of the evening. Dean stopped being hostile toward Robert and didn't say anything to make you feel uncomfortable. While Robb and Sam were deep in conversation, he continued to stare at you. You were full, yet you continued to fiddle with your meal as you frequently glanced at Dean. That being said, you didn't know why he was staring at you weirdly. You couldn't help but imagine your fingertips lingering over his pointed jaw as you saw how wonderful he looked in his tight t-shirt and freshly shaven face. Your cheeks were hot from the strange ideas that were running through your mind.

You wished that you had also changed into new clothing. Damn. You smelled like a hospital; that much was certain. No one liked the hospital smell. Dean has often told you how much he despised that smell. Just like he made you feel exciting, you desperately wanted him to feel the same about yourself. However, one thing he didn't enjoy was the scent of your hospital.

Dean stared at you with anticipation, just after Robert had told Sam and Dean that he had to go and thanked them for their hospitality. You got the message. Undoubtedly, you had to bring up that Halloween party Robb brought up. There were things that had to be discussed beforehand.

“I guess I'll stay here for the night,” you said to Robb. “I'm too tired to move right now.”

He thanked Dean again, didn't ask any questions, shook hands with both of them, and departed the home, leaving you and the Winchester Brothers by alone. Before he went away, you gestured that you would give him a call soon.

You took a big breath once the door closed, satisfied that the dinner had gone well enough. At that point, you needed to sleep and recharge since your feet and back were starting to hurt. To get rid of your overwhelming scent, though, you had to take a quick shower first.

Sam said, “I will not be coming to the party with you guys,” before you could say anything. “I wish I could. But I promised Ruby that I would be hanging out with her and her pals that day. I cannot change the plans now.”

"It's okay." It surprised you both when Dean smiled at him and said, “You don't have to change your plans.” Sam joining him on hunting was something he was usually quite obsessed with, but this time he didn't even argue with him.

“Really?” inquired Sam. He shared your shock.

“Yes. I'm certain Y/N and I can handle this crap. It will be simple. You shouldn't disappoint your girlfriend.”

You looked at Dean's face, and you arched an eyebrow. He appeared quite serious. Sam gave him a skeptical glance. He was about to leave the room after saying good night to both of you and realizing that Dean was truly being thoughtful and kind, but you stopped him.

“Could you please give me one of your t-shirts, Sam?” You asked shyly as you assisted Dean in clearing the table, “I think I need to take a shower.” You didn't want to wait to take a shower for another minute because you were afraid Dean would smell your sweat and the hospital fragrance while he was that close.

Dean said, “I could give you—” but Sam intervened.

“Sure. I’ll put it on your bed. Alright?”

“Thanks, Sam,” you said, casting him a friendly glance.

You reasoned that asking Dean for anything to wear would be strange given what had transpired between you and him. Whether or not he broke up with Jo didn't matter. You had to establish some limits if you both wished to keep your friendship healthy. You had, after all, stepped over a pretty fragile line. It could be harmless to wear his t-shirt, but there was no reason to get your hopes up and think delusional things. You were normal before you had sex, even though you occasionally wore his clothing. So much had changed by now.

Even though Dean told you to sit down and rest after Sam left the room, you persisted in helping him clean the table. Robb occasionally attempted to get under Dean's nerves, and Dean responded with the same ferocity, but he unexpectedly played well. He didn't usually say pleasant things of people he didn't like, but he even cooked for him and did his best.

He broke the silence as soon as he noticed you carrying the last glass and handing it to him, shortly after he began to slowly wash the dishes. You were fascinated with his physique and thick wrists, yet you attempted to divert your attention to something else before he could see you staring at his body.

His abrupt question, “So, are you satisfied?” made you tense up in shame.

You naively said, “What?” not realizing what he was getting at.

When Dean turned to face you and saw your confusion, he had to force himself not to chuckle. “The dinner. I think I did well there, huh?”

You ignored the dirty thoughts that were running through your head, focusing solely on the conversation as you picked up on the arrogance in his tone. You suppressed your nervousness as you wondered whether he was intentionally attempting to make you feel shy.

“Yes. Dean, it was wonderful. Thanks for inviting Robb. I'm glad we had such an enjoyable time together,” you said genuine, smiling a little at him.

Instead of looking him in the eye as you hurriedly watched him wash the dishes, you continued to see his rough hands soaked in water. Your mind was contemplating things you'd be embarrassed to admit, even though you were trying to focus on the talk. You bit your lips out of tension and eventually turned away from him, folding your arms over your chest when he curled his fingers around a glass. As quickly as you could, you had to wash your dirty mind of filthy ideas.

“Yeah?” he murmured, surprised by the praise, which didn't appear to have enough impression. “You didn't care to give the generous hug there, though.”

Without intending to offend, Dean had to bring it up. He kept his mind occupied during the dinner with the way you left him feeling as though you were far more distant than before. He couldn't keep wondering why you were acting the way you were, even if it wasn't really that important.

Surprised by the way of the embrace you ran from he mentioned, you opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. The cause of it was not something that could be easily explained, almost as if discussing it was forbidden. To clear your head and avoid saying anything absurd, you took a deep breath.

“I just smelled bad. I didn't want to bother you with it,” you eventually said. Although you weren't being quite honest with him, it was accurate enough.

“What smell?” With a perplexed tone, Dean inquired about as he quickly wiped dry his hands with a towel.

You tried to say it an amused way to cover your shyness, “Sweat and hospital smell, you know,” but you were embarrassed to admit it. “You always say it makes you throw up.”

The way he complained about the hospital and its stench didn't bother you months ago when you first met him, and he brought it up immediately, but by the time you fell in love with him, you could see how much he hated it and the way he portrayed it. When your shift finished and he was around, you tried your best to be cautious and avoid physical contact. However, you arrived at the house without having had time to change into new clothing or take a shower this evening. It was one of your insecurities.

Not that you held him responsible for it. After all, everyone disliked things for various reasons. You didn't take it personally.

“What? I-” Dean questioned in a hushed voice, as if that were the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. While he remembered the things he had said to you while you were close to him immediately following the end of your shift, his heart felt heavy. He didn't mean to offend you. Never.

He moved in your direction, holding the towel in one hand. You could not have merely run away from him this time since your legs did not receive any signals from your brain on how to move as he drew closer. “It's just... I didn't mean to hurt you. I would never.”

He stopped in front of you, and you felt caged, your back touching the kitchen sink. To meet his gaze, you had to raise your head. Your hands, not knowing where to rest, began to linger on the surface of the kitchen sink, where Dean had placed the towel. You knew you would touch him if you could only get your hands to move a bit. A little gasp was visible between your hands. But you could never have the guts to approach him in that way. Your hands paused there so as not to make the wrong action.

Dean smelled you now, but he didn't take a deep breath so as not to disturb you. You did smell like a hospital, but it was in a nice, fresh way. It was just sweet somehow. He didn't care whether you smelled blood and sweat. Your hair had become messy due to your job, and your overall scent made you appear...nicer. Perhaps in order to make a wise decision, he needed to have gotten a bit closer.

Stating that “I didn't say this to bother you.” To soften the air, you gave him a kind smile. “Do you want to talk about that Halloween party?” You asked to change the subject in order to break the distance a little between you and Dean; otherwise, your heart could burst because of anxiety and excitement anytime.

Dean didn't say anything as he saw you feeling uncomfortable, but his face fell. “I suppose we should first decide what to wear,” he commented, folding his arms over his broad chest.

“I have an idea for what to wear already.”

This time, you were unable to help but smile genuinely. Even if you lacked creativity, at least you had a sense of humor. That was also remarkable.

“Oh, yeah?” Curious about what you were up to, Dean chuckled. “What's your idea?”

“You'll see,” and you chuckled along with him. He was happy to see your former attitude returning. This was something he had missed.

You kept talking to Dean about what to do as Halloween Week drew nearer so you wouldn't make a mistake and ruin everything. It would place you both in a very difficult situation. For your sake as much as his own, Dean took great care to hunt down ghosts and to look after his car.

As you adjusted your costume and red lingerie, you took one final glance at yourself in the mirror. It had enough fake blood on it. While you and Dean attempted to find the ghost, you prayed that you wouldn't fall on your ass wearing the red high heels. Of course, if there was one at all. You also had to be careful when moving in the outfit because it was barely covering your legs. You were unsure whether your choice of a seductive, bleeding nurse costume was a mistake.

You knew Dean had come when he called. As you got into the front seat, your heart was racing crazily. He muttered something behind his mask, but you were too busy fighting to keep your costume from baring off too much of your flesh to understand it.

“What are you wearing?” you said, perplexed as you peered at his black cloak and mask. It was almost invisible in the darkness.

“I am Batman,” he responded in a rather aggressive manner, his hands motionless on the driving wheel as he continued to study your lace and revealing clothing. “It is expected of us to pretend like someone else. It's the concept. How are you even expected to move in this, by the way?”

Arms crossed across your chest, and you felt like you had to defend yourself. “I am pretending that I'm a sexy killer nurse, Dean.”

Sighing, Dean stopped from mentioning that you'd move more easily in a Catwoman outfit. He only said, trying not to look at your naked legs and lingerie, “Alright, sexy killer nurse. Let's go.”

Upon arriving in the house, you couldn't help but gawk at the people enjoying themselves by the pool and around the house; they were drinking, dancing, and sharing kisses everywhere they were. You could only see Dean's long cloak and mask, which covered half of his face, in the dim lighting. Whether it was anxiousness or anything else, he was biting his lips invitingly.

You said, “So,” as you glanced around the house and the entire people. Because of the loud music, it was difficult to hear your own speaking. “What are we going to do now?”

Nobody welcomed Dean or you when you entered the home. Everyone seemed to be going about their business as usual. Turning your face away, you watched other people taking cracks. Oh god.

The mood was gloomy, and the music was loud. You saw that the majority of people had frightening symbols painted on their faces. Even though ghost hunting was plainly meant to be more frightening, watching people continue to use drugs and drink made you feel nervous. The majority of their costumes were gorgeous, though, and you selected a few as your favorites. The ones you loved most were the ones with Princess Leia, the Shrek and Fiona pair, the Tree costume, the Hamburger one, Gimli, and Legolas costumes. They were exceptionally good.

Dean said, “Come with me,” gesturing for you to follow him upstairs. “We need to find that room.”

“This house is quite big though.” You took his cape in your hands and helped him move more easily. “There must be a lot of room,” you said.

As you climbed upstairs, the number of people in the corridor decreased, and Dean appeared to be looking for something. Even though you had no acknowledgment of what he was doing, you continued to follow him. You said nothing about how his cape made him appear a little funny.

Dean went past the rooms and opened each door one by one. Fortunately, though, there weren't many. “What are you doing?” you eventually said, not completely comprehending his reasons for doing so.

Dean explained, “We need to lock the door or do something else to prevent those teens from trying something funny.”

Those people trying to fuck each other in the same room where someone was murdered wouldn't be unexpected. As soon as Dean opened the doors, every person in the room complained, and he instantly apologized not to make a scene. While some of them were becoming drunk, others were acting in ways that instantly made you look away.

When one of the doors Dean attempted to get open was locked, you exchanged meaningful glances. “This room has to be it,” Dean stated with confidence.

“All right,” he said, reaching into his pockets to get a tool to unlock the door. “A little bit of coverage would work fine.”

As Dean began working on the door, you turned to face the hallway. When he eventually unlocked it, you hurried to get into the room with him before he slammed the door behind you and turned on the lights. You gave Dean an inquiring look when he locked it again.

“To avoid being disturbed,” clarified Dean, clearing his throat.

As you realized the music wasn't playing too loudly in the room, you breathed deeply. There were too many things to dwell on, making it difficult to concentrate on anything.

When you realized that you and Dean were now in an awkward situation, you just touched the room's furnishings randomly to soften the mood. While attempting to avoid staring at your body and touching any objects in the room, Dean cleared his throat nerveously.

With a silent prayer that he wouldn't break anything significant, you said, “What are we going to do now?” You could feel the tenseness and need between your legs as you remembered Rob's words.

Robb informed you that every single one of the people mentioned died during coupling. It had to have a backstory, but for now it was insignificant. While you placed your hands on the shelf, you awaited Dean's reaction, which came when he removed his mask and placed it in his pants pocket. In his Batman outfit, he looked extraordinarily good. The silence grew, and your heart began to beat.

You finally had the guts to stand beside him so as to avoid adding to the awkward matter. You both turned to face the bed and said, “Do you think we can... fake it until we make it? I mean until the ghost appears?” He was clearly uncomfortable as well.

He reluctantly answered, "I guess that's what we are going to do," which hurt your feelings. It wasn't like you had planned to risk everything to that extent in search of a ghost. Even if you thought you were exposed a bit, you avoided saying anything that might have made things worse.

With a shaky voice, you said, “What should I do?” as your heels began to hurt.

With a grunt, Dean clenched his jaw and glared at the bed. You had no idea if he felt powerless due to the situation or whether it was because he would need to set boundaries with you after this once again. After all, he had been making an effort to maintain your friendship strong and ongoing. If you were less in love with him, you may agree to let him do it with someone else if it would make him feel better, even though you didn't have the strength to do it.

Disappointed, all you could do was sit on the bed and wait for Dean to come to help you so that, when you'd dealt with the ghost, you could either go back home or join the party.

You gasped in surprise as Dean finally moved and pushed you further on the bed while holding you by the hips. You raised your head to see his eyes. Your hands went straight to his shoulders for assistance. Dean slid his body between your legs, but he was extremely cautious not to put his weight on you. You let him take control. But your legs were spread wide apart due to how you were dressed, and you could feel the chill causing your thighs to shiver with cold. He could see your underwear and your lower body if he looked at them.

In your first time, there was no electricity in the room, so you couldn't even see each other properly. However, now that there was light, you could see each other so clearly that your heart was racing. You could spend as much time as you pleased studying each line and spot on his face. He appeared much more handsome.

The room suddenly felt cold while Dean waited on top of you, staring at you as well. It was difficult not to give him a clear sign by not glancing at his lips. It was impossible to resist the temptation to moisten your dry lips.

You broke the stillness with a whisper, “Do you think the ghost will appear?” Waiting there with nothing to do but stare at each other felt uneasy.

Dean only said, “I don't know,” while eyeing your lips. “I guess we have to act a little to trigger it.”

“It's okay,” you said, quickly nodding to him. You were instantly ashamed by how eager you sounded. Hope that he didn't cringe.

As you waited underneath him, almost half nude, Dean appeared rather serious and used both of his hands to steady himself. You prayed your heartbeat was not audible to him. You were going to melt beneath his body and go completely insane.

You gasped in anticipation as Dean's head began to draw closer to yours before you could ask him another question. You fought the urge to shut your eyes. That would have made it obvious what you needed, but you carried on to focus on his green eyes. He paused and put one hand on your legs as he felt his hot breath on your skin. His fingers gently made their way under your clothing and contacted the skin beneath them. Your hips were pleading with you to lift them and give the signal, but you pressed your lips shut to avoid making an excited sound. Dean was not placing himself between your legs; he was supporting his body with his hands, but you needed to feel his weight on you again.

His cloak touched your legs as your hands moved to each side of his belly, wrapping your body. You could taste his lips if you moved slightly since there wasn't much space between your lips. You kept your lips shut and tried to concentrate on your surroundings to feel if the ghost was around. There was nothing. Even if it wasn't helping the ghost, you were definitely wasted from the start. You pleaded with the ghost deep within not to show up and ruin your night until Dean took care of you. It was only one innocent prayer.

It was uncertain to you if Dean was having as much fun as you were. He appeared dead serious.

You hardly made any motion when Dean's lips touched yours, causing you to stay still beneath him. You hesitantly opened your mouth since your lips felt dry. You had to moisten them, but there was nothing you could do. It seemed as though your brain had given up working. You were waiting for Dean to take action, not realizing that you had already closed your eyes and were uninterested in the ghost or anybody else. You inhaled deeply as your heart raced with excitement, and when his lips brushed yours, your hands gripped his back even more firmly. Instead of moistening them in an attempt to torture you, Dean was simply rubbing your lips. He seemed to be testing your patience while waiting for you to take the lead.

Without thinking twice, you lifted your head and put your lips to Dean's, parting them wildly when they were too dry.

Once your lips were parted, Dean captured them wildly with his burning lips by delicately sucking the upper lip between his, giving soft bites. He bit your lower lip the same way again. With the same intensity, he followed your lead as you grabbed his upper lip and sucked like you were starving. On his lips, it was evident that your red lipstick was ruined. It appeared as though Dean was trying to get rid of the red color on your lips by sucking and biting them.

You let out a low moan as he finally put his tongue in your mouth with such force. His tongue was slowly but firmly invading your mouth, like if he meant to ruin you under him. Your hands, unable to think clearly any more, released his back and found his neck to draw him in closer than before.

Raising your hips of expressing to Dean that you were feeling desperate for anything to calm you down as you let him take control of the situation. Dean's touches were all that you needed. You hadn't touched him since the night you spent together. Your heart clenched with pain and desires.

Your moans were silent, and Dean's torment lingered on your lips. There were wet sounds all across the room, as if your tongues were striving for supremacy over one another. Your cheeks turned red as you focused on the obscene noises that your mouth made.

You were aware that the more he touched you, the more your emotions would consume you, and that you were never going to be able to get a response from him. But you tried to concentrate on the here and now, blocking off the past and future. To feel Dean a little bit longer was all that was necessary.

Dean got the message, and with a single move, his tongue was more dominant in your mouth the moment he pressed his hardness between your legs, finally making you feel him. His fingers were pulling your underwear rather aggressively now. It seemed as though you two lost control.

Although Dean knew he should have stopped and gathered himself, he wasn't finding it any easier when he sensed you were unintentionally attempting to find the pleasure. He was going wild by your tiny nursing dress and scarlet underwear. His body was yelling for him to have the much-needed relief. Ever since he fucked Jo that terrible night, he'd craved this. His body was wildly yearning for yours. It was hard for Dean to pull away. It didn't matter at that time why they had joined the party or why they were going to kill the ghost. It was difficult to stop his body from reacting to you while he was touching you in this way and seeing how ready you were to surrender to him.

Dean drew back, his tongue finding your neck and taking delicate bites that left your lips burning. You had to moan aloud this time as he sucked the delicate spot on your neck. When Dean suddenly pressed himself on you, you both moaned and felt your pussy throbbing.

He bit and sucked the most sensitive parts of your neck before glancing at your burning lips. He was harder than ever because your lipstick had been ruined and you were still holding out hope for him to continue.

Dean carefully put his fingers into your underwear while studying your response. All you did was gaze at him needily and passionately, yet he would stop at any moment if he sensed any hesitation on your part. There was no hesitation in your eyes, though. That was plenty to push Dean over the edge.

You both let out a gasp when he pushed his fingers into your panties. Just by kissing, you were shamefully wrecked, but you hoped it wasn't wrong.

“Dean,” you murmured quietly. He was too blind to notice your love for him, but your voice was nervous and full of love that you couldn't or wouldn't put into words. You wanted him to be nearer. You needed to know that he truly noticed you.

Without uttering a word, he kept rubbing you through your wet underwear while staring straight into your eyes and driving you insane. Placing your hands on his back, you recklessly widened your legs to give him a little extra space. You needed to give him more of what was left of you to feel him more. You would never, ever turn him down. He had to know that.

Dean inhaled deeply and then, unable to contain his throbbing cock any longer, slipped your moist panties aside to check your level of wetness, exposing you while he moved your body slightly to take up a better position. After having fucked you for the first time, he was in desperate need of that. His thoughts wanted you, and until he fucked Jo, he had no idea how wonderful it truly felt. Denying his surroundings and the place you were, Dean began to unzip himself with aggressive motions. Indeed, nothing matters. That was something you both needed. Right now.

He lowered your underwear just enough to expose your pussy, just enough to make your heart fall apart. Your body was shaking from excitement, nervousness, and cold. You waited for Dean to release his hardened cock while placing your unsteady hands on his broad shoulders. You inhaled deeply and made an effort to reduce your stress. You kept your eyes on him the entire time. Considering that he didn't use his fingers this time, you assumed it would happen quickly. Perhaps it was because you got used to his size.

With a swift motion, Dean lowered his pants to allow him to properly move on top of you and free his cock. He gave himself two or three strong strokes and moved your body somewhat further on the bed. He was getting ready himself as you were trying to regain your breath and admiring his attractive features. You would provide him with anything he needed or desired from you.

It didn't matter why you had come to this house or what your purpose was. Just the you and him. He saw you already becoming lost in the moment without closing his eyes. There was no need for words.

After giving you one more glance, Dean gently put his lips to yours, but this time he didn't kiss you. You gasped at the sensation of the cock's head on your entrance. Although you were no longer a virgin, your body felt stiffened. After all, you had only had sex once in your life. You have no prior knowledge of what to do or exactly what is expected.

When you tightened up even more, Dean scowled and sighed. He could see you had become soaked and practically pouring there, and your body was pleading with him to get in, but you were refusing to allow him. He pulled back his cock's head, and then he slightly pushed harder once again. You nailed his shoulders in a panic. He immediately pulled back upon noticing your distressed expression.

“Come on, you're wet enough,” Dean pressed his lips to yours. “Relax a little. Let me in.”

Your eyes got teary a little, but you weren't sure if it was from fear of disappointing him or of doing poorly. This seemed a little more distant than the first time, for some reason. You felt vulnerable. Sighing, you pressed your head into his neck to keep your face hidden and concentrated on calming down the way Dean asked. Your hands were shaking on his back.

He praised you, “Good girl,” and carefully pushed his cock inside your pussy once more. You were overcome with emotions, even though his movements were considerate and gentle to put you at ease. Dean kept praising you and said, “You're doing so good,” when he noticed that you were beginning to loosen up and let him in. “Almost there. Just a little bit more.”

“How come you're so tight?” When he finally managed to push himself fully inside of you, Dean asked with a groan and a tinge of disbelief and confusion in his tone. He pulled back, then gave it a single shove to get his cock within. You put your lips to his neck and pressed in your moans.

Dean waited inside for a while after he completely pushed his cock to allow you some time to catch your breath. Dean was certain he wouldn't last long because of how tightly you were clenching around him. He inhaled deeply and buried his head on your neck to avoid coming too soon. He had to make sure you got what you needed.

“You okay?” When you eventually start to calm down, Dean asked softly. He held back, even though he was going crazy to move already.

You silently nodded "yes," waiting for him to continue.

Your body was hot and yearning for pleasure, but unlike the previous time, you were unable to stop sorrow from taking over your heart and making you feel nearly awful. You didn't understand what was wrong with you. Dean was all you needed, and he was right here, inside of you, kissing you the way you wanted. You were touching each other like you had always wanted. But you had a feeling that it wasn't what you had hoped for or expected.

Dean took a moment to draw back slightly before pushing again, just to make sure you were ready. Instead of closing his eyes, he made every effort to focus on his surroundings and the sounds that surrounded him. He wanted to see your lovely and flushed face the entire time and watch your desire, but he had to keep his eyes on the surroundings and not lose himself watching you since there was a strong chance that he might be stopped at any moment by a ghost. As much as possible, he had to maintain his composure and act responsibly.

You heard Dean moan in a low voice as he began to move on top of you, as if he wanted to maintain his composure and not get carried away with what was happening. You were facing his neck as he shifted on top of you, so you gently pushed your lips there as he pounded his hard cock inside of you.

Your bodies created loud noises, and Dean's hands waited on your cheeks as if he were doing his hardest to please you. His cloak concealed your bodies as your legs were wrapped around his back. You were clenching around him constantly and getting wetter by the second, but you were not able to experience the intimacy you so much craved. With desperation and affection, your shaky hands found his jaw and caressed him. Eventually, you worked up the strength to try to bring his face toward you so you could kiss him.

Dean resisted your touch, gently pushing your hands away as he accelerated his pace inside of you.

Your mind raced with ideas as sadness shattered your mind and soul; you let go hands away with shame, with a heavy heart. You stopped kissing his neck since you didn't know where to place your hands anymore and waited beneath him so that he could at least enjoy himself. You were unsure about what to do. If he led you, it would be better. He began to groan as his rhythm intensified, but you forced yourself not to touch him. Your soul was wrecked by rejection.

Even though your body enjoyed being with him and the image of his enjoying himself on your body thrilled you, you were unable to stop those awful thoughts from racing through your head. It seemed as though your soul was being torn apart. This seemed less intimate than the first time. Your eyes uncontrollably started to well up with tears as your heart began to hurt so much. Being in Dean's arms and caressing him was something you had craved, but every time you felt like you were slipping further away.

You got consumed in your own thoughts and found it difficult to get the bravery to look into Dean's face. You wanted him to feel good. You needed him to enjoy you and what you were doing.

You found yourself sobbing aloud, just when Dean's motions inside of you became sloppy and his hands tightened around yours.

Dean froze on you the instant he heard your sobbing and cautiously pulled off his cock. Dean muttered, “Fuck!” upon seeing your face. His tone and the way he was staring at you made it clear that he was terrified and concerned.

You wept, trying to draw him back with trembling hands, but he resisted. “I'm sorry,” you said. You were embarrassed to let your vulnerability ruin the long-awaited situation.

“Hey, calm down,” Dean mumbled as he hastily tucked himself in his pants to take good care of you and figure out what was happening.

Even if you stated, “I'm alright. I swear, Dean,” he just regretfully fixed your clothes and underwear carefully. He shouldn't have let things get out of hand. He was unable to remember if he hurt you by moving too quickly or too roughly. His heart was heavy with regret at seeing your teary cheeks and hurt face. He had messed up badly this time.

You felt like a spoilt child getting help from him. Your legs were shaking from anxiety and cold, and you simply felt horrible. You couldn't contain your emotions and kept crying longer since he didn't even finish, and you made him feel bad rather than satisfying him. You weren't sure if you were actually ill or just lovesick. You just ruined a chance to spend good time with Dean, something you can no longer afford.

You sobbed more because you knew he would probably not touch you again.

He said in agony, “You're trembling,” and helped you sit on the bed.

Not even your bed, nor his.

Just as you were going to persuade him, you felt so bad that you had no energy left to utter any more lies. You were sick.

Dean waited silently, contemplating the events that had transpired five minutes ago and unsure of how to respond to handle it. He was as confused about what was happening. It was possible that Dean was being harsh with you, even if he didn't think so. He glared and sighed with regret at the thought of perhaps physically harming you. All he knew was that something was wrong. He didn't speak or touch you to avoid making you feel worse.

He was lost in thought and simply waited alongside you. Then someone knocked the door.

Next Chapter

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆───⛥───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───⛥───⋆⋅☆⋅⋆───⛥───⋆

A/N: That was a looong-ass chapter huhh.. I thought about rewriting many times, but here we are. Please, let me know what you think about this one. Comments and reblogs are very appreciated! Remember writers have a praise kink, haha. ^^

Taglist: @faiirynyaa @deangirl96 @steelthespooder @t1asstuff @slut-for-evans-stan @esposamultifandom @rebecca-hvnstn @monkey-d-hoshizora98 @sammyxorae @filmologetica @stoneyggirl2 @hhiggs @neptua @yuckqr @steelthespooder @jaredpadonlyyyy @robynn9436-blog @x3zerochanx3 @lilbloggs @chriszgirl92 @ninii-winchester @monshirev @saturogojosgirl @necrobab3 @simpingfortoomanypeople

@midnightpearlaurora @procrastination20 @zaratahir @opheliadynah @spxideyver @n-o-p-e-never

@jeysbae @shanimallina87 @anyisaravia2001 @chirazsstuff @mango-munchies

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stellar-haikyuu · 2 months ago

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no regrets ☆ sugawara koushi x reader

synopsis: before their third year starts, an evening walk changes everything between reader and their best friend, koushi. details: fluff, opposites attract, childhood friends to lovers, first kiss, ~1.7k words, gn! reader. requested by @liquidcatt as part of my karasuno writing event warnings: none! just repetitive use of the title and idk how to write kissing yet LOL

One week before your third and final year of high school, you realize that you’ll soon be experiencing multiple “lasts” before a new chapter of your life begins.

Now, you don't normally care about these things, but you can’t help it when Koushi calls you that evening.

Apparently, he made an impulsive decision to go on a walk, and he now wants your company.

You groan at him through the phone and he laughs. Of course, he knows there’s no real anger behind it. He’s the only person in the world you would drop everything for without a second thought.

“I’m sor-” he tries, but you hang up on him, cutting off his “apology.” Huffing with amusement, you rummage through your closet for something that would keep you warm.

After pulling on a sweater, you let your parents know you’re heading out. They barely glance up from the television before nodding in acknowledgment. It’s been years since they decided that hangouts with your best friend no longer warrant further questions.

The cold wind greets you as you step outside. You shiver a little, but you slowly adjust to the temperature as you wait for Koushi.

After a few minutes, you hear the sound of footsteps against the pavement. They stop right outside your gate, and you can see the telltale tuft of gray hair peeking out from behind.

“Koushi.” You greet him with an air of nonchalance as you open the gate.

Your tone has always been a little flat—an unintentional habit of yours. You don’t have it in you to amp up the energy like everyone else does, but your friend has never minded it, even when he is the very definition of sunshine and chaos.

“Heh,” he chuckles sheepishly. “Hope you weren’t too busy.”

You half-heartedly glare at him, which makes him ruffle your hair. In response, you swat his hand away and try to smooth down the mess he’s made.

“You’re just lucky I was bored out of my mind,” you mutter, stepping out onto the sidewalk, and letting the gate shut behind you.

“This is the hundredth time I’ve been lucky.” He raises an eyebrow. “Maybe you do like me after all,” he teases.

Your stomach does a flip.

Is he onto me?

“Sh-shut up!” You stammer, elbowing him in the side.

“Ow!” He yelps, clutching at his ribs as if you’ve stabbed him. “Hey, I’ve got volleyball practice soon, don’t give me an injury.”

“You’ll be fine.” You roll your eyes at his theatrics, watching as he rubs his side in an attempt to soothe the pain. As he pouts and mumbles something under his breath, you brave a quick look at him.

He’s wearing that adorable blue scarf again—well, it’s yours, actually. You lent it to him in first year when he forgot his scarf on a chilly evening. For some reason, you insisted that he keep it, and now he wears it all the time with no fail.

(His reasoning? “Maybe you’ll miss your blue scarf, so I’m just going to wear it every time we walk together.”

You remember staring at him in disbelief, but internally, you were maybe five seconds away from passing out.)

“Agh. Gosh, why didn’t you go for martial arts or something,” Koushi’s voice snaps you out of your reverie.

“I don’t have that kind of energy.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Besides, I’m sure you wouldn’t want my punches to hurt even more.”

“Fair point,” he concedes with a laugh.

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, making the sound of leaves rustling much louder. When you glance at Koushi, his expression has shifted. He looks thoughtful, his gaze fixed ahead but distant, as though he’s turning something over in his mind.

“Why’d you call me out here?” You ask.

“Hm? It’s just…” Koushi hesitates for a moment, his voice softening. “We’re almost done with high school.”

The reality of his words hit you. “We are. But hey, I’m a year closer to my librarian dreams.”

“Ha. You’ve never really changed your mind, huh?”

“Nope.” You shake your head, popping the ‘p’ sound. “How about you, still wanna be a teacher?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Dead set on it now, actually.”

“Good,” you say firmly. “You better keep your promise to apply to the same school. Don’t leave me to fend for myself in college or at work.”

“You’re not going to die, gosh,” Koushi laughs, shaking his head. “What are you going to do when strangers come up to you in the library to ask about different things?”

“That’s a problem for future me.” You scrunch your nose. Unfortunately, no job is exactly the way you want it to be.

“We’ll cross the bridge when we get there. But now, there’s one more year ahead of us,” he sighs.

“Yeah.” You tilt your head, brows furrowing slightly. “Is there something wrong?”

“Not really…” He trails off. “I just…I’ve been thinking a lot about how these months will be full of last chances.”

Last chances?

“I guess I couldn’t help but worry about how I need to make every moment count. I don’t want to waste opportunities.”

Oh.

Koushi stops walking for a moment and turns to you. “Am I making any sense?”

You study his expression. The faint lines of uncertainty on his face say enough. “You are. What brought this on?”

“It’s the volleyball team.” He confesses, his gaze flickering downward as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. “I still want to stay. I still want to go to Nationals. I know that we may not be the best in the prefecture, but…it’s not stupid to hope, right?”

For a few seconds, you think about it. You’re no stranger to hoping for good things, even when it seems impossible.

You spent your childhood hoping for a best friend, even though most kids never wanted to approach you. Yet, here you are, years later.

(Now, you’re just holding onto the hope that your feelings for him will be returned.)

“No, Koushi. It’s not stupid,” you reply, despite the subtle ache in your chest.

“Thanks.” His eyes brighten at your response, and you can’t help but let a small grin form on your face.

That’s my dreamer.

You recall how painful it was to see him realize that Karasuno was no longer the powerhouse he imagined. But, the fact that he hasn’t thought of giving up once is a testament to his true strength.

“Well, I just hope we’re lucky enough to get some more first-years.” A puff of steam leaves his mouth. “And I hope Asahi and Nishinoya come back as soon as possible.”

His voice falters slightly at the mention of his teammates. You instinctively reach out to take his hand in quiet support. That incident had upset him more than he let on.

“But no matter what happens, I’ll work hard,” he continues with conviction. “I want to finish this year with no regrets.”

“No regrets,” you echo his words in affirmation. Your heart hammers in your chest.

Should I do it?

“Hey, are you okay?”

What if this is my last chance?

“You’ve been staring for a while.”

What if someone else takes this moment from me?

“Hey.”

Do it. Come on.

“You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

No regrets.

“Koushi?”

“Oh, there! Thank goodness. What happened?” His voice sharpens in concern.

You close your eyes, willing yourself not to chicken out.

“No regrets,” you murmur to yourself.

He blinks at you, taken aback by your cryptic behavior. “Um, yes, that’s what I said.”

“I wanna do that too,” you admit with a steady tone.

“That’s…good?” he replies, but the confusion turns his statement into a question.

“So, to start the year off strong…” You let go of your grip on his hands and take a step forward, closing the gap between the two of you.

“Koushi.” You look away momentarily, trying to find the words. “I don’t know when I started feeling this way, but…”

You force yourself to meet his gaze, and you reach a hand out to tug on his scarf, bringing him closer to you.

Your faces are mere inches apart now; you can feel his warm breath on your face. The fact that he doesn’t protest or pull away gives you the confidence to continue.

“I like you,” you whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, his lips crash into yours. You’re frozen, stunned by the fact that Koushi reciprocated.

This is actually happening.

He’s kissing me.

One of his hands finds its way to the base of your neck, while the other wraps securely around your waist. His touch is gentle but grounding. It’s almost like he’s afraid to let you go.

You can’t take it anymore.

The longing you’ve kept bottled inside for years finally explodes.

Releasing your grip on his scarf, you move your hands to the base of his neck instead, pulling him down a bit more. The height difference sends a quiet thrill through your body, leaving you giddy.

You part for a moment to gasp for air, but your lips find each other again. They seem to slot together perfectly, you think, as though you were made for each other.

You sigh at the feeling of shared warmth between your bodies, a stark contrast to the nighttime climate. Carding your fingers through his soft hair, you think about how much you’ve dreamed of spending the rest of your life with him.

No one understands you the way Koushi does. No one gets you like he does. Even when people questioned your friendship dynamics, you both found ways to defy the odds. The realization nearly makes you cry in the middle of this romantic moment, but there’s no way you’re letting Koushi use that against you.

As much as you want this kiss to stretch into eternity, your lungs are starting to burn. Reluctantly, you pull away once more, but this time, your chest is filled with something like peace and contentment.

Koushi rests his forehead against yours as you both catch your breath. He giggles with pure joy. “So, no regrets? I totally don’t have any.”

There may be last chances, but also hopeful beginnings.

“Yeah, me too. No regrets.”

masterlist

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goodlucktai · 2 months ago

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raised on little light (1/3)

rise of the tmnt word count: 2k pairing: leo & oc i've had this idea rattling around since the rise farewell comic earlier this year made it canon that the turtles had another brother and a sister floating around somewhere. we know who their sister is, so this is my take on that 5th brother. i hope you enjoy meeting him <3 big thank you to @soldrawss and @mykimouser for enabling my insane behavior (and thank you again to sol for drawing the art i included in this chapter!!!) title borrowed from northern attitude by noah kahan read on ao3

2020

Leo regretted his last words as soon as they left his mouth.

“Hero moves are totally your style”? As if Raph doesn’t have enough issues already.

But what he meant—what he would have tried to explain if there was time—was that Raph is his hero. He’s always been Leo’s hero. And if Leo could be anything like him, even for a second, even if it was the last thing he ever did, then he could be satisfied with that.

It’s a silly thing to be stuck thinking about, laying on a torn up chunk of earth with a monster ominously lumbering somewhere below, looking for where it threw its toy. Laying there, feeling every bruise and broken bone, and hoping that he didn’t hurt his big brother’s feelings.

They’ll be okay, Leo thinks, trying to make it be the thing that gives him courage instead of just more homesickness. They’ll miss me, maybe for a long time, but they’ll be okay.

Leo’s supposed to be fighting for his life, but it’s all he can do to keep a grip on the photo in his hand, the only thing in this entire dimension worth holding onto. It’s all he can do to keep his eyes open when every blink is longer than the last.

It feels like enough of a rebellion. The Krang looked annoyed that he was still breathing the last time it batted him through the void like a fly, which gives Leo the idea that he should probably be dead by now. He feels a detached sort of pride at how grown-up he’s being about all this. Better late than never

Leo waits for the Krang to come for him, dripping his blood and sneering his daddy’s nickname for him hatefully as it does, and hopes he made his family proud.

Leo hopes he’ll go wherever Gram-gram is. It would be nice to know someone when he gets there.

Movement in his periphery snags Leo’s attention. His brain starts throwing up warning flags, signaling danger—anything moving around in here is another parasite, or a Krang hound, nothing he’ll want to be sprawled out on a silver platter for—but he can’t summon any urgency.

He turns his head and finds himself looking up at another turtle.

It’s the very last thing he expected to see. They both just stare at each other for a moment.

The newcomer appears to be a few years older than Leo, based on the broadness of their shoulders, and half a head taller. Their skin is more gray than green and their plastron is so pale it’s closer to white than yellow. Their carapace, what Leo can see of it, is a deep blue-black and they’re covered, skin and shell both, in white spots. Two of the spots on their face give the impression of eyebrows lowered in a glare, but they don’t seem angry at him.

The turtle is completely unfamiliar to Leo, which is saying something. He thought he and his family had the monopoly on… this whole situation.

Disquieted, Leo remembers that he’s supposed to be the only turtle here. That was a very significant part of the decision he’d made.

It must be a hallucination, he decides, instantly comforted by his own reasoning. That makes sense. He just wished that if his mind was going to conjure him some dying company it could at least be someone he knows. An imaginary Mikey or Donnie or Raphie for one last hug. One last affectionate forehead bonk. An “I still love you,” if that wasn’t asking too much.

Don’t you cry now, he scolds himself sternly when his eyes start to blur and burn. It’s not about you.

With a resounding crash of metal against stone, the Krang finds them at last. He’s snarling something that Leo is too slow to piece together before he cuts himself off—surprising the hell out of Leonardo by acknowledging the hallucination. That’s not how that works.

“Another pest ,” the Krang hisses. His serrated teeth glint when he draws his gummy lips back in an ugly smile. His tone is oily and unpleasant when he adds, “You’re less colorful than those other ones. I would have remembered seeing you. Where were you when your accomplices were fumbling about in my Technodrome like the stupid creatures they are?”

“We won,” Leo reminds the alien, even though it makes him cough. His lips are warm and wet now but he won’t think about why. “Blew up your ugly ship. Who looks stupid now?”

“Shut your mouth!” the Krang roars, going from slimy to homicidal in about three seconds. Leo cringes, every ounce of animal instinct in his body urging him to hide in his shell and ride the rest of this nightmare out.

The spotted turtle snaps, “Don’t talk to him.”

It would have made sense if he was looking at Leo when he said it. Don’t engage, don’t bait the big monster that could kill you with as much effort as it takes you to blink, et cetera ad nauseum. If only he’d had a nickel for every time he heard that.

But instead the turtle is looking at the Krang, and he’s radiating the kind of cold-blooded murder that you mostly only see in movies. He has one arm flung out in front of Leo like he actually means to use it to stop the Krang from getting any closer.

“Don’t even look at him,” he goes on, sounding seconds away from baring his teeth.

This guy is significantly unaware of the danger he’s facing, and Leo ought to warn him about what enormous clusterfuck he’d just wandered into. Leo ought to say he appreciates the reptile solidarity, but you should definitely run, new guy.

But this probably isn’t actually happening outside of his own head. And besides, Leo has to focus really hard on his numb fingers so he doesn’t drop his photo.

“I’ll look where I please,” the Krang says, as unbothered by the hallucination as he was by Leo’s entire family. “Starting with that fool head of yours. I’m interested in whatever backdoor led you here. If it’s my way out, well —”

Adrenaline surges through Leo, and he’s hardly aware of moving before he’s lurching up and shouting out, “No!”

He can’t get out, he can’t. Leonardo won’t be able to trick him again. He won’t be there to help this time.

“I do have one thing for you,” the spotted turtle interrupts to say, reaching over his shoulder for what turns out to be a compound crossbow strapped to his back.

Leo doesn’t know a lot about archery so it’s weird his fictional turtle does, crank-cocking the weapon like it’s an extension of his arm. He watches cluelessly as the turtle slides something very purple out of his jacket pocket and notches it into the groove where the bolts are supposed to go. It’s definitely not a bolt, but it’s a piercing-type projectile of some kind, and it fits in the crossbow like it was designed with crossbows in mind.

The turtle aims the bow at the Krang, who clicks the claws of his metal suit on the ground the way Splinter would drum his fingers on the kitchen counter when he was waiting on the microwave. The Krang looks condescending and mildly curious, like he’s watching dumb little animals do something they’re not trained to do.

“He told me to tell you he’s sorry he couldn’t be here to see this part,” the spotted turtle says, and then shoots without a second of hesitation or unnecessary dramatics.

The Krang bats the projectile away, or tries to, but it explodes on contact with his armor, and suddenly all Leo can smell is burning metal. Then burning meat.

The Krang begins to scream, clawing at something defiantly purple with a mind of its own that eats straight through him the effortless, immediate way corrosive acid chews through soft tissue. It moves like nanotech, covering as much of the Krang as possible in a manner of seconds and clearly designed to consume whatever it touches like a school of cartoon piranhas.

Donnie would love it, color scheme and all.

The Krang stumbles drunkenly, howling like a creature possessed, and Leo and his turtle companion both watch silently until he tips over the edge of the hunk of torn earth they’re on. Gravity is nonexistent in this dimension, so he doesn’t so much fall as sort of drift in another direction while he’s distracted with the purple stuff that’s doing its best to eat him alive.

The last handful of minutes have been so bizarre that it’s actually going pretty far in convincing Leo that none of it happened for real. The Krang hasn’t actually found him yet. This is clearly a dream. Or a pre-death electrical storm as the neurons in his brain fire up to fizzle out.

He tips his head to the side again to stare up at the archer, who is putting his bow away with perfect confidence that whatever that purple thing was, it will do the job.

“Who are you?” Leo asks stupidly.

“Gio,” the probably imaginary turtle replies.

Leo’s mouth runs off before he can stop it. “Just Gio? Like Cher?”

God, he thinks. That was stupid, Leo. Not the time or place, Leo. You’re in the prison dimension. You’re dying here and you can’t even cut the jokes now? Raph was so right about you.

But the imaginary turtle surprises him by smiling slightly, the corners of his mouth pulling just barely upwards in a way that somehow completely transforms him. Not the time or place for jokes or smiling at them but here they are. Like company.

“Giorgio Hamato,” ‘Gio’ says. That lands in Leo’s ears as something remarkably worth making a lot of noise over, but he can’t begin to unpack it. And after a second, he forgets what the remarkable part was. His mind is a deck of cards that got shuffled too enthusiastically and ended up scattered all over the floor. Gio doesn’t seem to mind when Leo just blinks at him, adding, “I’m here to take you home.”

“Pretty sure Uber doesn’t come out this far,” Leo mumbles, the words a paint smear, all thick and wet and muddy. One of his teeth feels broken and it’s keeping him awake, a blistering ache that cracks through the back of his mouth like lightning. “And I’ve got, like, zero bars.”

This is how I cope, he thinks, watching the bigger turtle absorb the second bad joke in as many minutes. Leo’s blinking fast so he doesn’t cry. He’s trying to focus on anything but the pain radiating through his whole body, and the swallowing darkness all around him, and the ruins of ancient metal ships looming where they float unrestricted by gravity, and the ballistic howls of a pissed-off pink alien still dealing with whatever the heck this Gio guy did to him.

He can’t focus on any of that because all of that is scary and he’s already terrified. He needs to not be terrified because he doesn’t want to be that kind of ghost when he haunts his family. He wants to be the friendly, funny kind, the kind that gets to stay at the end of the movie, the kind that will make silly faces at Mikey so he doesn’t get scared, and leave sticky notes for Donnie to remember to charge his phone and drink enough water, and cover Raphie with an extra blanket while he’s asleep because it gets cold at night but he always leaves his bedroom door open for them.

If Leo’s friendly and funny, if he helps, he’ll get to stay. He didn’t get to stay the first time, so this time he has to make it stick.

Larger hands wrap around his. It doesn’t register for a second, and then it does in a big way.

Leo jerks his head up. Moving just that much hurts like his ribs are broken all the way down and the bones in his leg have all melted into liquid agony, but it clears some of the fog away.

Someone is holding his hands in the prison dimension.

An alien like the Krang wouldn’t know the first thing about the human gesture, the togetherness of it, so it’s not some mean trick that’s being played. And it can’t be an imaginary turtle that Leo dreamed up, after all, because kindness would be the last thing he’d give himself.

Possibly very real Gio says, “Fuck Uber. Whatever that is. And don’t repeat that word.”

The punchy breath Leo chokes in is going to punch out again as a laugh or a sob. Leo squeezes the bigger turtle’s hands, photo crinkling between them, suddenly tethered to something in this void and hysterically certain that he’ll die for real if Gio lets go.

“I’m sixteen.” Leo’s voice wobbles. He doesn’t know what to react to first. He doesn’t understand how this is happening. He holds on. “I can say the fuck word if I want to, I’m practically an adult.”

Gio’s face does something it hurts to look at. His eyes are dark and sincere, the shape of them entirely familiar. There’s a warmth inside him that permeates the gloom. A star belonging to a much larger galaxy, but more significantly, belonging to the same crooked constellation Leo belongs to.

I know you, he thinks, surprised by the truth of it. I do. Where have you been?

“We’re going home,” Gio says, the certainty in his voice like one of those huge stones a river parts around, unmoved by the currents and crashing water. “I know the way out. Don’t worry about it. Close your eyes.”

The worst thing that could happen has already happened, Leo thinks. There’s no reason not to trust him. There’s nothing left to lose. He closes his eyes.

He feels himself drawn in, tucked against the built-in armor of a turtle chest, head resting on a broad shoulder. He’s been carried like this a million times before. He didn’t think it would happen again. Somewhere along the line, he’d been picked up for the last time and put down for the last time, and now he’s here, where no one who loves him can reach him, to scoop him up when he falls asleep on the sofa and take him to bed.

But Gio lifts him up like he’s still a kid. The Krang is bellowing hateful promises in between the grating shrieks of pain, promises of what he’ll do when he gets his hands on Leo, but all of that is far away.

Leo isn’t afraid anymore. He isn’t going to be a ghost.

He’s pretty sure he’s going home.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #hamato leonardo #rottmnt oc #tmnt fic #my writing #the archer au #hamato giorgio #me yesterday: yeah im really not sure whether to post it yet or not #me today: 🕺🕺

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vigilante24ish · 2 months ago

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🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1554

Finale I - part 2/3 (Agatha X Reader ending):

You did not fear death. At least not anymore.

Agatha was clearly hesitating, You were the one person she could not lose. But she could not give herself up either.

It annoyed her how you were not letting Billy take the fall for all of you. It was that simple, and yes, it was cruel, but this was life.

You would learn to live with it.

Billy looked at you, and he knew you were serious. Yet he could not let you do this. You were the last person to deserve such fate.

And so, he directed his attention on Agatha as he tried hard; a part of him hoping the Road and even this final battle was enough to truly help him connect with her.

He looked at her and eventually managed to connect with her telepathically. He finally managed to bypass any barriers and mental walls she had raised, a result of her magic and training across the centuries.

'Agatha', he called in her mind. The purple witch did an excellent job at hising her surprise, not expecting to hear anyone in her mind; let alone him. 'Is this what happened to Nicky?' He dared to ask.

His question hit Agatha harder than any of Rio's attacks. She knew this was not what happened to their son, and yet, she could not help but feel this... guilt and pain.

Nicky wouldn't want her to sacrifice one more soul to Rio, and he sure wouldn't want you to stay behind or take the fall for everyone.

He always had a soft spot for you.

As Agatha looked at the serious you with the glass shard still in your hands, she made a decision... one, she most likely won't live to regret it.

With silent steps, Agatha started to walk towards her former lover and spread her arms, inviting her into her embrace.

Rio took notice, and yet she did not fight this subconscious need to be in Agatha's arms. She did not expect her lover to hold her face gently and then initiate a kiss; even though she was almost always the one to do so.

Billy stared in surprise, not expecting such a move. All he could do was stare, his mind taking a little longer to realize Agatha's true plan.

You didn't, though, and once you spotted the faint, green veins on Agatha's cheeks; you knew what she was doing.

Your eyes opened wide in surprise, disbelief following after along with fear; as your body and heart processed the intense emotions caused by that kiss...

Or better say, Agatha's reckless and selfless plan.

"No," you exclaimed weakly and stopped putting your magic into healing your wound.

You stared as faint green veins spread across Agatha's cheek, Rio's magic entering her body. Black magic flared in response and started to wrap around the two lovers as Agatha's skin started to turn paler and paler.

Rio understood it too, but she could not stop, her magic already affecting Agatha. She kept the kiss, a single tear trailing down her cheek as she realized what Agatha was doing and how she had chosen to end this all... her noble sacrifice.

Rio couldn't stop, but you could, or so your subconscious thought.

For the second the two lovers parted lips, your scream echoed across the backyard as your white magic went out of control. Forming a bright white wave, it expanded circulalry all around you; tossing Billy back but also Rio.

Agatha had already started to levitate, black magic tendrils sucking her life away but quickly disappeared as the force of your white magic obliterated them.

You sprinted on your feet, running on Agatha's body that was now laying on the grass; skin turning paler as time was almost up.

You knelt and placed her head on your lap, both hands holding her cheeks as your white magic glowed and tried to help save your lover.

"It's no use." Rio said as she recovered from your outburst, looking with a saddened look at the sight in front of her. "She took my power. She will die."

This was not how she wanted Agatha to go, and if Rio could do something about it, she would. But the damage had already been done, and it could not be reversed.

Not by her.

You did not even look at Rio, your eyesight blurry from all the tears you failed to hold back as you kept trying to save Agatha; but your magic only seemed slowing down her death... not stopping it.

"I was created to stop her," your bottom lip trembled as you fought back a sob. "Yet I chose to join her... If this means I can save her and if I fail and die... then Agatha and I can be together."

With one last try, with one last spark of hope within; you bent down and kissed Agatha. Your eyes closed as you focused on the kiss, the familiar sensation of her lips against yours fueling the pain in your heart, but you kept going.

Your magic entered her body through the kiss, its powerful energy quickly meeting Rio's darker one; the two forces fighting but ultimately... yours was slowly purifying the toxic for Agatha magic that your lover had willingly absorbed.

Your hands and your body glowed with magic, it's shine so bright that could be seen from the curious humans neighbours that stood in their yards; having noticed the changing sky but having no clue what was taking place.

Usually, your pure magic would harm Agatha; whose dark magic had formed and stained her body even though Wanda drained her. But now, your magic was busy fighting something else, and while winning; it was weakening.

At last, the white glow started to die as an ethereal wave of white magic was flowing gently around you; a semi transparent dom that kept you and your lover within.

And as that magic was fading away, Billy and Rio could see the result of your actions.

You gently pulled back, feeling drained and exhausted; as if you had been fighting for your life for days, little to no energy left to sustain you.

Yet it was all worth it as you looked at Agatha, her hair now a pure white; a side effect of your power. But the colour had returned to her cheeks, her blue eyes glowing with life.

You could not help but smile weakly as you watched her and she watched you. Her hand moved, fingers caressing your cheek in a sweet way, and you leaned on them.

You tried to stand up slowly to give Agatha space and also join you. Your knees felt weak, and as you tried to take a step back, your body gave up on you.

You stared to fall to the side; too weak to remain standing.

Rio was quick to catch you, gently supiering your body with hers; arms protectively holding you, preventing you from slipping off her embrace.

Agatha weakly managed to slowly push her body up; still trying to recover from almost dying and also the remnants of your magic residing within her.

"Leave her alone, Rio," she said weakly, worrying for your well-being after pulling such a stant.

Rio glanced at Agatha but was more focused on you, your breathing silent and your eyes fighting to stay open.

"You stupid girl, giving your gift away like that," she told you.

You smiled weakly, feeling proud that you did and having no regrets.

"And I will keep doing it until you let us all go," you replied weakly, stubborn as ever.

Rio glanced at the new moon above and then at you before leaving out a heavy sigh.

"You are lucky your soul is not mine to reap, babygirl." she pecked your forehead and helped you remain steady on your legs.

Billy, at the same time, helped Agatha to stand; looking with confusion at Rio.

The green witch kept her arm around your waist, unsure if you could stand on your own yet. She looked at Agatha. "One life, no more cheating death," she then looked at Billy. "No more body jumping. When the time comes, no fighting"

Perhaps this was not what the rules said... but not everything was set in stone. Exceptions could be made, at least partially; little loopholes in the grand plan

Rio did it before, and from the looks of it, she had to do it again. She would never admit it, but deep down, she did not truly mind.

You and Agatha muttered too much to lose you so early, especially when, from the looks of it; relationships might have been mended, at least partially.

Billy and Agatha nodded, not wanting to chase their luck further or risk one of you dying for good this time.

Of course, Billy, being the curious boy he was; had to ask one more thing.

"Rio," he called her, trying not to feel intimidated by her sharp look. "I... " he cleared his throat. "What did you mean with what you said? About not being able to take Y/N's soul?"

Lady Death smirked faintly, her fingers gently caressing your cheek. "She is a blessed child. I can't reap her until it is said," she replied vaguely, leaving Billy more confused than before.

Finale I - part 3/3

[A/N] - Finale 2 part 1 will be published the day after, focusing on a better and smuttier ending for Rio, Reader, and Agatha as a triple pair.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #moon phases fanfic #agatha fanfic #marvel #kathryn hahn #agatha spoilers #aubrey plaza #agatha harkness #lesbian #rio vidal x reader #rio vidal #agatha x rio #billy maximoff

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tb3ih · 11 months ago

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APOCALYPSE ⨳ satoru gojo

[ the world is caving in for EX-BOYFRIEND!SATORU--he thinks ]

⨳ word count: 2.7k !

⨳ warnings. post-breakup, non-sorcerer!au, "treating wounds tension" + underlying notes of unfinished love. contains nsfw (MDNI) — oral & fingering (f!receiving), cunnilingus, missionary, creampie & aftercare (?)

⨳ notes, happy love day to the satoru enjoyers. everyone else... well, maybe you'll learn to enjoy him after this. ( thank you to @ktsumu & @difficultdomains for mothering this fic, i appreciate you both sm <3 )

there is nothing quite like the loneliness of being the strongest. GOJO SATORU doesn't allow himself to pay any mind to the void which separates him from the rest of his kind, though at times he wished he could rid himself of it entirely.

his pace is slow and lacking in rhythm, tall frame swaying and trying to keep him from planting face first into the pavement as his body carries him down the familiar path. the metal in his mouth has yet to subside and the male is nearly on the edge of consciousness until he recognizes the entrance to your apartment building.

he does not knock, simply entering the code at your door knob and praying it hasn't changed since the last time he's been there. and it hasn't, because no sooner after he presses the enter button, the lock clicks and a small chime resonates from the door, allowing him in.

the door doesn't creak, so he swings it open just slightly to allow himself in, but one step into the living room and suddenly he's forced into the wall of the hallway behind him, something cold and sharp pressed against his throat.

gojo satoru has never feared for his life, but the glow in your narrowed eyes as you hold him in place and press the knife against his throat has his soul threatening to escape through his throat. and then something shifts, your eyes changing in emotion and just as fast as you appeared because you're no longer against him, tucking the knife away in its holster and standing before him.

"satoru? what are you doin--satoru!" satoru doesn't remember your embrace being this warm when you catch his collapsed body, but then again he hardly remembers anything at all these days. "oh my god--is that blood? jesus, satoru!"

he hums out a reply, vision a little fuzzy around the edges as he tries to register the dimly lit living room of your apartment. he hears you curse out, muttering about how heavy the male was before setting him gently down on the couch. gojo's vision is going in and out, his consciousness indecisive because one moment, you're gone and the next you're standing over him, brows pinched in concentration as you clean something off his face.

"hold still," you say quietly when you feel him try to move from his position. you're seating next to him on the couch, tying off the stitches at his brow. putting your tools down, you wipe the bit of crimson from his pale face before covering it with a bandage. his cerulean eyes watch you unwaveringly, but you refuse to return his stare.

you may have only one life, but there were things better left untouched.

the rest of his bloodstained clothes remain in a heap on the floor near the couch, revealing that most of the blood you had previously witnessed was not his. you stand, grabbing your first aid materials and putting them on the counter. when you come back, you hold a glass of water in one hand and some painkillers in another.

you set them on the coffee table, sitting down next to him once more to adjust one of the bandages you notice has come loose around his shoulder. "y/n..."

you pause your movements, eyes carefully meeting his. you regret your decision the moment you see the way his irises spill with an emotion you wish you could get rid of as easily as you did your assignments.

"why are you here, satoru?" your voice is so quiet, you almost don't hear yourself. why did you come back? is what you wished you said, but you can't risk reopening a wound you've stitched up too many times.

the male purses his lips for a second, racking his mind for an answer that won't push you even further away from him. "i... didn't know where else to go..." he brings his other hand up to your face, fingertips ghosting your cheek out of fear he might break you if he does make contact. "please, you’re… all i have left…"

you inhale sharply, something forming in the back of your throat. "please, don't look at me like that," you beg, but you don't move an inch as he starts to move closer to you, his hand coming to gently hold your face.

"why?" it is quiet in the room and his face is only a breath away. he is close, too close, but you can't bring yourself to pull away.

something hot escapes your eye, the pain in your chest flaring up again and causing the nerves on your skin to ignite. "because," you start, voice breaking off a little before continuing in a whisper. "i might actually believe that you love me this time."

his thumb catches another tear before it can make it all the way down your cheek. "and what if i said i did?"

"you are a cruel man," you reply, never breaking eye contact with him.

something glints in those beautiful blue eyes of his at your words and you know you'd never be able to get rid of him even if you tried. "then maybe you can teach me a thing or two about being good."

silence settles around the both of you, neither of you wanting to say something that might unravel whatever it is that's built up in these few fleeting moments.

“oh, satoru,” you finally say, a bit of sad amusement tugging at the corner of your lip, “not even hell would be enough punishment for you.”

when his fingers go grab your chin gently and pull your lips closer to his, you can’t even find the strength in you to fight it. gojo pauses, lips moving from your eyes to your lips that are nearly touching his.

he licks his lips. “then why don’t you show me what is?”

[n]sfw under the cut!

and you’re not breathing anymore. because in that instant you are telling yourself you loathe the man before you as you bring both of your hands to his face and finally push your lips onto his, all the oxygen in your lungs no sooner chased out by everything that is gojo satoru.

though, you can’t say your partner is any better, because he’s pushing back with just as much force, lips molding against your fervently as his hands move to trail to your waist, lifting you with no effort to make you straddle his waist. you gasp, his fingers digging in just enough for the pain to be delicious as he holds you down against his clothed dick. you can feel the way gojo’s lips twist into a smirk that he’s got you wrapped around his finger, though you didn’t mind one bit.

when was the last time you’d done anything like this? your hips move off muscle memory, grinding down hard against him at a slow, but steady pace that has gojo groaning into your mouth. your fingers find his hair, combing, tangling, and pulling his soft locks while he breaks the kiss to let his lips travel from your jaw, down your neck, and to the sensitive spot of your collarbone.

“fuck, y/n,” gojo curses, pulling away to watch you pull off your shirt, lips swollen and pink while his eyes watch you behind a veil of something almost soft. you aren’t a fool though, you’re just as hungry as him.

his lips attach almost immediately to your chest when you fall back into him, a combination of his incisors and tongue leaving hues of scarlet as his mouth dances across your bare skin. you can feel how painfully hard he is through his pants, the moan that escapes his lips almost making you chuckle when you drag your hand from his face to his chest and finally to the waistband of his pants, palming his length through the material.

“damn couch is too fuckin’ small,” he growls against your skin, to which you respond by guiding him down to the plush carpet on the floor, the soft material on your skin not nearly as cruel as the leather of your couch.

he takes your nipple between his teeth, tugging gently before swirling around it with his tongue, causing you to mewl out at the pleasure. “well, i’ve never actually tried to get dicked down on it before, but i appreciate the criticism,” you breathe out, the snarkiness in your reply inciting amusement in gojo as he sees you’ve gone back to your original self.

“i was wondering when you’d gotten so soft,” he taunts, “thought i’d lost you forever.”

you scoff, “as if i’d let you think you’re the best in the business.”

he switches the two of you, toned arms caging your head in where you now lay on the floor. “prove me wrong then, gorgeous,” gojo says lowly. his eyes look as if they’re trying to devour you in the way that they trail down from your lips to your heaving chest, bite marks and hickies blossoming in reds and bruising purples all over.

he keeps his eyes on yours when his hand finds the drawstring of your pants, undoing them in the blink of an eyes before hooking his fingers into the waistband and pulling them off entirely. his hand comes to your panties, fingertips ghosting over the already-wet patch of fabric.

“you know, for a professional,” gojo starts, lips pulling into a mean grin, “you sure do let yourself get riled up easily.”

with one hand you pull his face down to yours by the back of his neck and with your other hand you grab the wrist of his hand pushing it against your aching cunt. “for a professional, you sure like to run your mouth,” you retort, continuing with a bit of impatience in your voice, “if you don’t shut up and fuck me, i’m going to have to ask you kindly to leave.”

at that, he chuckles, pulling your panties to the side to pressing a finger to your bundle of nerves. you shudder at the sudden contact, back arching involuntarily off the carpet as he starts to move. “well i guess i better get to it, then,” gojo chuckles lowly, dipping a finger into your soaking entrance. shifting his position, he moves down so that his head is in between your thighs before bringing his mouth to your clit.

you hear him curse against you and you sigh, thighs closing in on his head as he starts to working his fingers in and out of you. curling his fingers, gojo relishes the way you shudder involuntarily, walls clenching around his fingers as he speeds up his brutal pace. there’s a familiar tightening in the pit of your stomach and the pleasure flooding your head has the edges of your vision looking fuzzy.

“satoru…hngh–!” you’re a mess underneath him, hands shaking when they move to tug his hair harder. “s-slow down–please!”

the white-haired male hums against you in reply, detaching his lips from your clit to meet your eyes. “funny how you’re asking me to slow down, but this pussy’s beggin’ to be fucked,” he coos, watching the way you’re swallowing his fingers knuckles deep.

and you feel as if the world is a little off-kilter, the trembling in your thighs intensifying as your orgasm teeters on the edge of crashing down. and it’s just as you’re about to cum that he pulls his fingers from your aching cunt, leaving you gasping and sensitive from the sudden loss of contact. “satoru…?”

and that’s when you feel it, his tip prodding between your soaked folds, dragging against your entrance with a pace that can only be described as teasing. gojo’s face comes to settling in your neck, one hand pressed on the carpet beside your head to support him while the other continues pressing his cock against you. “‘m still here, gorgeous,” he murmurs into your neck, voice low and a little strained.

it’s taking everything in him to keep from pushing in and throwing every boundary between you two to hell. the lilt of your voice when you whined his name, the twist of your fingers through his hair, god, even just the taste of you on his tongue–it was driving him mad.

if this was heaven, gojo would willingly repent if it meant he could devour you.

and when you curse out, calling his name like a mantra, only then does he snap back to reality, your teeth finding his neck when he finally does push in, your gummy walls giving him nothing short of a warm welcome as you swallow him whole. gojo pulls out till it’s just the tip teasing your walls before slamming his hips back in, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix with just enough force to have stars dancing in your vision.

“holy shit,” he breathes, groaning out at the feeling of your nails raking down his back. you feel his muscles flex as he adjusts above you, “i’m going to eat you alive.”

you place a feather-light kiss where you had just been biting down, whispering in reply, “so do it.”

and he’s smiling against your neck when he starts his brutal pace, grinding his hips into yours in a way that has a scream trying to claw its way from your throat. gojo is a muttering mess of moans and curses, the drag of his veins against your fluttering walls sending him into a state of euphoria.

you feel that familiar tightening in your core, the continuous teasing of his tip against your cervix making you arching into the white-haired male above you, your nails drawing uncertain and indecisive shapes into the contours of his back. “satoru… i think i’m–oh god, please…”

gojo is definitely not thinking straight. from ecstasy washing through his veins to the faint stinging of your nails carving into his back, he wasn’t sure if there was any going back. he can feel the way you clench around him, pushing him closer and closer to his edge by the second.

“y/n,” he rasps, unable to stop the stutter in his pace of his hips against yours. “...god, you–you’re everything…” this, here–the moment–is everything.

you almost don’t catch what he says solely out of doubt that he even said what he did. you don’t respond, only biting his shoulder to muffle the sound of his name as it comes tumbling off your lips in a scream. your orgasm washes over you and you let yourself go under, body shaking as gojo comes to finish following you.

and when he does, it comes crashing. hips slowing to a halt against you, you hear him groan, frame shuddering as he empties himself into you. you feel the warm flood your walls, both of your frames heaving for air as you come down from your highs. when he finally does calm down, you’re already fading in and out of consciousness.

you’re half-awake when gojo rolls off of you, taking his weight and his warmth with him when he gets up and collects himself. you don’t have time to actually feel the difference in temperature because only a few moments after he’s gone, he’s back again, arms locking your tired body against his chest as you’re lifted from the carpet.

you’re barely hanging on to reality when you feel like you’re being embraced again, only this time it’s a blanketing kind of warmth. “satoru…”

the male lays perfectly still against you, allowing you to adjust yourself and get as comfortable as possible. the moon peeks in from the sun window in your bedroom ceiling and gojo finds himself staring up at the distant twinkling of young stars galaxies away.

none of the stars have exploded and the moon appears to have stayed on its course. when he looks back at you, you’ve already drifted to rest, breaths rhythmic and nearly silent as you remain cuddled against him.

silly of him to think that the world was ending.

after all, you were right here.

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arcanarix · 3 months ago

Text

Make That Double, Ch2 - Yan!SatoSugu X Fem!Reader [AO3]

Word Count: 6.8K

Warnings (for this chapter): mutual mastuurbation (btwn stsg), non-con, cunnilingus, panty gags, bondage (chains), deaths

Geto meets with Gojo during times where it’s feasible, which is becoming more and more of a rarity these days. While it’s not like the higher-ups can do much about it even if Gojo gets caught, Geto isn’t fond of the idea of him having to clean up a mess he’s caused all on his own accord.

“What’re you staring at me for? Want to go another round, or…?” Satoru snags him out of his thoughts, and Geto shakes his head, nuzzling his face into Satoru’s neck as they’re tangled up in each other in bed, their breaths and heartbeats in sync. He’s told the girls he might be held up a little longer than expected, and thus Suda is supervising them to ensure they’re not up to the wrong kind of mischief while he’s absent. He has a feeling that the girls are already suspecting something else is going on—especially since Satoru comes out of his mouth like word vomit in conversations—but that’s not his problem to deal with right now.

“You’re risking so much just to be with me,” he mumbles into his skin. “I’m not worth the trouble.”

“Hey,” Gojo murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to Geto’s temple. “Don’t say things like that. I told you—we’ll figure this shit out like we always do, right? I’m sorry I couldn’t be around when it really mattered.”

“It always matters that you’re here,” Geto insists, “But it doesn’t mean you should risk everything you work toward for my sake. Besides, I don’t regret what I did for the twins, or what I did to my parents. It was deserved.”

Gojo doesn’t make a comment about his parents; while he agrees with Geto’s sentiments about them being genuinely flawed people, they still loved him. The comment just doesn’t sit right with him. Everyone is capable of doing terrible things—even Gojo hasn’t been against slaughtering mass numbers of non-sorcerers after what’s happened with Riko—but this? This is something he can’t wholly fathom from Geto, least of all from Geto.

But it’s not like Gojo can make any claims—most of it is kind of baseless given he has a distant relationship with his own folks.

Even so…

“Whoever said I gave a damn about what the higher-ups think? Except for maybe Yaga,” he quips as he drags out a sigh. “The higher-ups are a bunch of conservative fools. I’m a sensei now just to spite them.”

“I genuinely fear for your students,” Geto deadpans. Gojo scoffs, casting a sidelong glance at the curse user.

“Hey! Am I that bad?” he laments, pouting like a sad puppy.

“…Do you really want me to answer that?” Geto drawls with a little smirk playing on his lips. Gojo’s resolve crumbles in that moment and he’s still pouting like a petulant child.

“You’re no fun,” he gripes and Geto chuckles at that. He doesn’t want to, but he knows he has to return to his own duties. The girls are going to get a little restless not knowing where he is and the last thing he needs to cause is unnecessary conflict.

He shifts a bit in his spot, and Gojo whines, snuggling into him closer to keep him in place.

“I should probably get ready to leave,” he announces as he moves to untangle himself from Gojo’s body, but Gojo protests out loud with another pitiful whine, yanks him back into bed, his lips barely brushing over his. Geto can’t even complain; he won’t deny Gojo has him wrapped around his finger even now.

“Stay a while longer,” he murmurs, and their lips finally lock. This time, it’s Geto melting into Gojo and allowing himself to be vulnerable for a while longer. He doesn’t get to have moments like these to himself as much anymore. There’s no room for it given his position that he put on himself willingly. He means what he told Gojo—he doesn’t regret his decisions. He doesn’t regret breaking away from jujutsu society and their outdated ways of life. Maybe the only thing he regrets is not telling Satoru the truth sooner.

But perhaps, Satoru knowing that even now, Geto bends to his will, must be enough reassurance for him.

Later that evening, Geto finds a moment to find Satoru back at his penthouse. His students have been sent away on one of his missions—his idea of tough love, he tells him in jest—but that also gives Satoru more of an excuse not only to spend time with Geto, but to observe you on the sidelines.

Currently, you’re probably back at the bakery between your class schedule. Gojo has commented that he sees you working on your assignments on your shifts, admiring how much of a hard worker you appear to be. That’s ought to pique Geto’s interest as well—it’s important for his future doting wife to be dutiful as well, after all.

Upon entering the living space, Gojo’s once again sprawled onto the love seat, fiddling with a piece of unfamiliar cloth in his hand. Geto’s eyes widen, violet eyes sparkling in curiosity as he approaches his lover, looming over him.

Does that pair of panties…belong to you? It looks like a thong…

“How did you get this?” Geto asks, eyeing the pair of panties in Gojo’s hand. “Is it hers?”

“Indeed it is, and how else?” Gojo scoffs at the redundant questions. How unlike Geto to seem so slow to figure shit out. “I dug through her stuff while she was in class.”

As realization dawns on him, he growls like a crackle of lightning and leans in further to closely inspect the cloth.

“Give that to me,” Geto growls, attempting to snatch it from his hand but Gojo’s eyes twinkle as he keeps it just out of reach, shifting over to the further edge of the couch.

“Wait your turn, baby,” he purrs as he brings the lacy red cotton thong to his nose, inhaling your fresh scent. “Fuck. I bet she tastes as good as she smells.”

“Satoru,” he addresses in a firmer tone as Geto’s lips curl into a pout. “Give me.”

Gojo smirks as he slips his free hand into his slacks, brushing a calloused thumb over his tip. He shivers. He’s already leaking and hard, but he can make himself last as long as needed. Plenty of practice on his own and with Geto.

“Satoru…” Geto tries again, crawling onto the couch toward him and wrapping his arms around his waist, scooting closer. “You’re torturing me.”

“Wait your turn, but if you need it that badly, you can just join me.” His gaze flickers down at Geto’s lap, then meets his eyes, a devious little glint in his sharp sky blue eyes.

A whimper leaves Gojo’s lips as he’s already so oversensitive.

Geto runs his tongue past his lips as he observes the scene unfold. Gojo keeps the underwear hovering over his nose, debauched by your scent, his face flushed with a coat sweat leaving behind a light sheen on his fair complexion. Geto finds himself scowling to himself—has Gojo really lost his patience so soon? He has yet to secure you and yet here he is, swindling things from your apartment just because he doesn’t know how to wait.

The best things come to those who do, after all; as old and cliché as that adage is, Geto finds it to be truer the older he gets.

Groaning in defeat (as much as he loathes to admit it), Geto slips his hand into his pants and begins to lightly stroke his cock, eyes fixed on the cloth shoved into Gojo’s face.

“Why are you taking so long with her?” Gojo moans into the fabric. “She smells so good. So sweet.”

“We can’t afford to be impulsive, Satoru,” he mutters, picking up his pace as he rests his forehead onto Gojo’s shoulder.

“I know, but come fucking on…you need her more badly than I do. This is about you, ultimately, you know. There’ll be a time where…fuck…I can’t be here at all. And you need someone. I also have to…fuck…take care of Fushiguro’s kid.”

“I know,” Geto mumbles, now practically fisting his cock so hard there’s a splorch, splorch, splorch—with each firm stroke as he nears his release. It won’t nearly be as satisfying once he finally has you where he wants you, though. Satoru agrees with that sentiment; Geto can tell.

“Fuck, Suguru. You’re down bad for a monkey,” he teases as his eyes remain fixed on his leaking girth. “Maybe your convictions aren’t that solid at all, Suguru.”

“Shut up,” he snaps in a low hiss, biting onto his shoulder and making Gojo yelp from the contact.

They climax together, their breaths mixing as they pant to catch their breath.

“You’re so down bad,” Gojo chortles, leaning in to peck his lips. “But so am I.”

Geto finally snatches the panties from Gojo’s clutches. Gojo’s lips twitch into a smirk.

Your only classes today have been canceled, so you take a full shift at the bakery. It’s not like there are many other employees anyway, and you can use the extra cash. Nothing wrong with adding a few extra hours, right? Just means you’re prioritizing the right things in your life, unlike last night while you were sobbing into the shower about your lack of a love life…

…And as if to rub salt into the wound, your eyes flit to a couple sitting at one of the bars by the window near the entrance. Sharing scones. Sneaking kisses. Taking couple selfies. Popping cherries into each other’s mouths. It makes you sigh in longing as you sink your face into a clenched fist. You so wish you can have something like that. Something pure, happy, carefree. Something to keep you working toward something if it means spending the rest of your life with someone you love. It makes things like this a little more worthwhile, because you have someone to go home to.

Instead, all you have waiting at home is a whole lot of nothing.

“Excuse me!” a customer ushers with a bright smile, waving his hand in front of your face. You snap out of your thoughts and smile apologetically back. “Hey, sorry. I didn’t want to bug you, but I was waiting to order for a bit now.”

“Oh! I’m so sorry about that,” you reply as you zip back over to the cash register. “What can I get ready for you?”

“Hey, aren’t you in Evolutionary Computing with me?”

“Oh, are you a graduate student?” you ask with your curiosity clearly piqued. Now that you examine his face, you do kind of recognize him…this might be a chance to really make some connections this year! Your heart is leaping with joy at the idea; does this mean you might even find someone if you actually actively try?

He shakes his head, still wearing a bright smile that makes your heart rush. This guy seems to be bouncing off the walls with sunshine. Maybe he has that golden retriever energy people explain so much about on social media, and that’s just your type!

“PhD,” he corrects while scratching the back of his head. “But I’m taking that class this term. Man, it’s no joke, huh?”

You burst into a fit of giggles at that notion. That class has kept you up for many nights slaving over debugging endless lines of code. “No kidding! Those projects sure are hefty. Did you keep running into bugs in that last workshop she assigned us?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s annoying, for sure. I’m still debugging that code! Maybe we can help each other out a bit, yeah?” he offers as he pulls out his phone. “We have a chat for the class if you want to join that too.”

“I’d love that, thank you!” You realize something you nearly forgot. “Oh right, your order?”

“Oh, yeah! Um…” he trails off, scanning the menu above you. “I could go for a Nutella crepe and some black coffee.”

“Awesome, I’ll have that right out for y—!” Your voice peters out as you hear the ding of the bell on the door, another customer strolling inside.

You heart threatens to stop then and there.

It’s Geto.

And he’s alone, this time. Your classmate must have caught onto your unease, and you try to shake yourself out of it. Just bounce back like you always do! You have a job! And you’re working hard as a student, even trying to make friends here! And you’re doing just fine!

You clear your throat, bouncing back to your customer service tone, ignoring the way your voice wavers ever so slightly. “Yeah, I’ll get that right out for you! And we can talk about class stuff later.”

The stranger nods with a handsome smile. “Yeah! I’m Masato Fujimoto, by the way!”

“Nice to meet you!” you exclaim. You tell him your name.

You ignore the icky, prickly feelings over your skin as Geto approaches the counter, glaring into Fujimoto’s back.

As Fujimoto shuffles over to settle into one of the bar stools, you keep on a plastered smile as Geto approaches the counter.

“Hello again,” you greet with another practiced smile. You try not to pay attention, but his eyes are still following Fujimoto…why’s that? Does he recognize him or something? “Are you picking up some things for your twins?”

“Not quite,” he answers, as his piercing violet gaze fixes on you. You cock your head to the side, eyebrows scrunching as you’re bombarded with a myriad of swirling thoughts. He seems more standoffish than usual today…What’s with him? Is there still trouble in paradise, or is he just a tired father?

“Oh?” And for fuck’s sake, why do you care? He’s just a customer, remember?

“I’m just here to propose an offer,” he begins, his tone authoritative, much like a father’s. “But before that, I suppose I should order something for the girls.”

“How can those two eat so much Nutella and not get sick?” You find yourself giggling into your hand, as if in an effort to put an ease to that tension weighing ok your heart.

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” he admits, seeming to humor your attempt at small talk, perhaps also in an effort to help you lower your guard around him. You appreciate the effort he’s making this time around.

As he pulls out his wallet, you rest your hand over his to stop him as he hands over his card.

“It’s on me,” you tell him with a tight-lipped smile. If it’s just stuff at home weighing him down, that might lift a bit of tension off of his shoulders…right?

He’s frozen in his spot again, and he actually blinks a few times at that—that’s probably the most reactive you’ve ever seen him with you; you aren’t sure what to make of it—but without another word, he returns his wallet to his back pocket. As he does, another customer strolls in and turns to the counter upon recognizing Geto.

You recognize this customer, too. He’s come here a handful of times, and has honestly spent more money here than any other customer that you have ever had drop by literally ever. You wonder if that guy is really made of money if he can just waste it all like that on something as trivial as sweets.

“Suguru,” the tall man with shock white hair greets him in a lazy drawl as he ambles over to him, wrapping a long arm around his shoulders. He cast a glance at you, his lips twitching into a small smirk. “Good morning, Princess.”

“Hi, Gojo, it’s been a while,” you reply, as your gaze flits from him to Geto, and back to him. “You two are friends?”

Gojo nods, as his sunglasses catch the ceiling lights, that unsettling and somehow misplaced smirk widening the longer he stares at you. “Yep. Something like that.”

“Go wait at a table or something, Satoru,” Geto commands smoothly as Gojo visibly deflates from the notion. If you don’t know any better, he might be thinking he’s missing out on something fun. Nothing’s fun about these jobs.

Satoru? …He’s that Satoru? It’s not like he introduced himself to me with his first name anyways…

Gojo doesn’t leave just yet, hanging around Geto for just a bit longer—just to observe what plays out, maybe?

“Sorry about him. He can be a bit…” Geto trails off, eyes rolling upward as if seeking the right word. “Overzealous.”

“No worries,” you respond as you type in the rest of his typical order for the twins. “I’ll get your order right away for you. Does your friend Gojo want to order something?”

“Satoru?” Geto addresses. Gojo drags out a sigh as he scans the menu above you.

“What’s the sweetest thing you got on the menu?” He lowers his sunglasses—why does he wear those inside? And are those Cartier?—revealing a pair of stunning sky blue eyes boring into yours. “Besides you, of course.”

Your cheeks heat up, caught off guard by the comment before you splutter from nervous laughter as Geto whacks his head.

“Ow! Hey!” Gojo shouts, rubbing the sore area while scowling. “What the hell, Suguru?”

“I told you to go wait at a table, you twit,” Geto chastises as a frown stresses his features. “I’ll deal with you later.”

Gojo makes a sound.

“Did you just call me a twit?” Gojo shoots back with a little pout of his glossed lips.

“Yes, because that’s what you are,” Geto jeers, not daring to look at his face because he knows he’ll cave in that very moment. “Now for goodness sake, Satoru. Do as I tell you.”

Gojo is still pouting as he makes a face at Geto.

“You’ve been fathering so hard that it’s spilling into this relationship,” Gojo quips before he twists around on his heel and saunters off. You’re stunned into silence at the exchange. So they are lovers or just close friends? That’s difficult to discern, and you don’t really care to dig much deeper in that moment. The dynamic is strange, but you have come to find that everything about Suguru Geto—you know his first name now, at least—is downright strange.

A tense silence hangs over the two of you. You fiddle with your frilly sage green apron as something coils in your stomach. An instincts urges you to flee for some reason, but you doubt you can get very far… and you don’t know what you’re fleeing from just yet but you have a fair idea.

After Gojo steps outside and settles at an outdoor table, Geto leans in with his own small smirk playing on his features. Your stomach tightens even further as your mouth presses into a thin line.

“Would you be interested in a little trick, little dove?” he inquires in a soft tone, catching you off-guard.

“Hm?” You cock your head. Is this one of those weird corny pickup lines and you just can’t understand it at all or something? And what the hell? ‘Little dove’? What are you, a pet?

Because that’s not endearing or sexy at all…

But maybe that’s not the goal for him.

“You come with us,” he goes on, “Or I kill everyone in this building.”

Your heart finally stops—a retort dying on your tongue…did you hear him correctly? Is he being for real? And does that mean Gojo is an accomplice of his, or something?

Your eyes flit to different corners of the building before landing back on Geto, whose eyes darken with malice.

“E-excuse me?” you cough, blinking rapidly as you’re taken aback.

“Oh, you silly, little dove,” he coos in a mocking way, that smirk still on his lips, showing bits of his teeth. “I forget how absurdly simple and stupid humans are.” He points somewhere behind you, to the kitchen, where three of the chefs are working diligently on the orders for this morning’s customers. You’re terrified to go along with this, but something inside of you is telling you not to challenge this man, not to enrage him.

“If you don’t believe me, then just observe,” he commands, as he continues pointing in that direction.

You swallow on a dry lump of nothing as you twist around to follow his finger. You don’t know what to expect.

“Which one first, would you say?” he asks, tone laden in something dark and sinister. You ignore the way your fingers twitch and how your knees already threaten to buckle. You cling onto the edge of the counter for dear life, as if that can save you now. “I don’t like how the chef in the middle gets too friendly with you between shifts, so we can start with him, hm?”

In the blink of an eye, you can’t rip your gaze away as the chef’s sleeve is caught on fire before the rest of his body is engulfed in flames. You’re quivering in your spot as the stench of charred flesh wafts through the air and your eyes meet the remains of his body, now completely burnt to ash. The other two chefs meet the same fate before they can scream or call for help.

Your hands fly over your mouth as you’re utterly helpless—you can’t save anyone here, either. Not when you’re face to face with a force you can’t even perceive or comprehend. Geto’s sickening cackle makes your blood burble beneath your skin, but you don’t know what you can do in a situation like this.

“Wh-why are you—?” You twist around to face him to meet him now with wild violet eyes and a smile that’s lusting for more action—whether shedding some blood or otherwise. You don’t know if he wants to spill your blood too.

And you don’t want to test the theory.

You still have half a mind to run, to make a break for it, just bolt out the entrance or somewhere in the back, but you’re no fool. You won’t get very far.

He now jabs his thumb to another direction. And you fear for the worst as you follow it to find the dismembered, mangled body of your classmate, his blood splattered all over the counter and tiled floor. The stench of decay and blood strengthens.

All the color from your skin fades. You gawk at him, fear evident in the way your eyes shimmer with tears. You don’t even hear the screams and shrieks because everyone has died at the snap of Geto’s fingers, practically.

What…what’s happening? Why is this happening? Why is he doing this? What have you done? Your head’s spinning from everything happening and you can’t even find a moment to truly grapple with it all.

“Now,” he continues in that same sharp, authoritative tone. “Come with us or every customer who waltzes inside dies on sight.”

Your lips quiver as you reluctantly nod. You don’t think to avert your gaze to know every other customer here, like that couple, are now dead by his hands.

“My little dove,” Geto purrs as you feel the presence of someone waltzing up from behind you. Someone is breathing down hard on the nape of your neck, and you’re caught—unable to flee, unable to do anything. You’re too weak to do anything, to try to do anything at all.

“Hey again, Princess,” Gojo drawls into your ear, his fingers lightly brushing down your arms until he grasps either of your wrists.

Before you know it, you lose consciousness from the sheer shock of it all.

You hear faint voiced when you find yourself waking up.

“Damn, look at this thong! Who knew she was a little slut all along?” you recognize Gojo’s voice. “She’s not as innocent as she looks, eh? Bet she can’t go to bed without wringing a few orgasms out of herself with a toy or something. Princess must be lonely, hm?”

“You’re so crude, Satoru,” comes the exasperated response from Geto. The way they talk about you like you’re just some objectified toy… you’re pissed off about that, no doubt about it ,but can you really do anything in a situation like this? What even are they? How can they do the things they just did out there? All of the questions spiraling in your mind and yet you doubt they’ll give you any straight answers.

It's probably not even all that relevant anymore. You’re going to be flunking out of grad school due to absences and there’s going to be no way for you to redeem that.

Have they even thought about that? That you have a life you want? You have nothing outside of what you worked for, and now they’re just going to take all of that away just because they know they can get away with it?

“Fuuuuuck,” you hear a deep inhale from Gojo again. “She smells so good. Wonder if she uses those feminine washes. She smells so sweet. Like chocolate and strawberry.”

Geto bites back another groan.

“Satoru, shut up,” he chides, and you can practically feel Gojo clamping his mouth shut at his command like an obedient dog. “She’s waking up.”

Reluctantly, you do, your vision coming into full focus, and you’re met with the eager faces of the duo who brought you here…wherever here is. It’s a darker area, much akin to the dungeons you’d see in extravagant castles. It’s likely underground somewhere. It’s likely they’ve planned this for along time.

And it’s likely you’re going to die here…

“There she is! Hey, Princess,” Gojo grins as he twirls your lacy baby pink thong between his fingers.

He brings it to his nose again, inhaling your lingering scent sharply. “What do you use? You smell amazing. And look! There’s even a little wet spot just for me.”

He flicks his tongue against the stain and groans at your natural taste, making you gawk, appalled. What kind of freaks are these guys?

Do you really want to find out?

“Damn, Suguru,” he growls, kissing into the wet spot, making you wince from embarrassment. “You chose someone good.”

“Patience, Satoru,” he reprimands him as he rests a firm hand on his shoulder before staring down at you in your pitiful form, tutting a little.

“You must be so frightened. Don’t worry, little dove. We’ll get you comfortable soon enough. But first, we just need to…” Geto trails off as he and Gojo share a knowing glance. “…inspect a few things.”

You try to flinch away as his hand reaches out to you, but find you’re chained to the wall behind you. They rattle with each time you struggle. It’s only then you see your ankles are curled behind your head and secured with cuffs. There’s not much movement you can afford, even. You have to admit these guys really thought shit through.

What a humiliating position to find yourself in, indeed.

Geto crouches down and gets an eyeful of your cunt, already glistening with your slick. He whistles, impressed as two fingers pry your folds apart, making your sensitive skin hit the chilly air of wherever you are…it looks like a chamber…? Stone walls and underground…?

A dungeon, maybe, just like you said before. That’s the best way to put it, you figure. You’re their little damsel trapped in their dungeon.

“Please, it hurts!” you whimper, too scared to glance down to look.

“We haven’t even done anything yet, little dove,” Geto coos as his slender, bony middle finger makes soothing patterns over your clit. You bite back a hiss from the contact. “Besides, it’s not like we want to hurt you.”

“Quite the opposite,” Gojo coos as he grabs your chin and digs his fingers into your cheeks, forcing you to gaze up at him. He grazes his lips over yours. “We want to have a little fun. But let’s take care of a few things first, like Suguru said, okay? We want to know what we’re dealing with here, so answer us this: is this a virgin pussy here? We can make things work regardless, but it’s still important to us.”

Your eyes widen at the vulgarity of the question, but you haven’t a choice on the matter. You know how these things work; you’re no fool. You have to comply unless you want to be dealt a worse hand. You decide you’d rather take any humiliating thing they’d throw at you instead of something worse, like what they made you watch unfold back at the bakery… that’s another part of your life down the drain.

“Um…kind of yes, kind of no? I’m not sure what…um, counts. I never had anything…inside?” You feel the embarrassment seeping into your bones like acid. “Like, a real thing…like no dicks inside…just um…I use toys…on myself…”

God, the resounding embarrassment from admitting this to them is ridiculous.

You await judgment, mocking laughter...anything.

Instead, the two share another long glance as they process that information, before turning back to you.

“Fuck,” Gojo growls, his tongue poking out between his lips. “This is going to be fun.”

Gojo looms over you, hands trailing up your exposed stomach and stopping at your exposed breasts.

“Wow, look at those!" He’s singing you praises yet it’s in such a sickening, objectifying way…it’s so maddening. He squeezes both of your tits so hard they leave behind an impression. “Gosh, they feel like balloons!”

“Satoru,” Geto scolds, “Don’t be too rough on her so soon.”

Gojo bites back a groan, but heeds Geto’s warning regardless, opting to trail kisses up your sternum before stopping at the pulse point on your throat, where he suckles a bit on the skin. You can’t move, you can’t even fight back in a helpless position like this; all you can manage is a pathetic little whine leaving your lips in protest.

“Please, please don’t…” you beg through a broken sob.

“Don’t what, Princess? I’m not doing anything wrong,” he taunts as he latches his lips onto your neck, nipping a bit on the sensitive skin there and making you gasp.

Thankfully, this doesn't last for long.

“I’m afraid I have to run, Princess. Duty calls,” Gojo announces as he finishes peppering slobbery kisses all over your neck and collarbone. “I’ll be back for more, though. Don’t worry your pretty head.”

“Satoru,” Geto purrs, “Don’t have us wait long. And be careful out there.”

Gojo nods before he exits the dungeon, foot falls fading as he disappears up the flight of stairs in a far corner.

Geto hums as he spits into your pussy, making you thrash about in the chains. He tuts at that, eyes rolling upward to glare.

“None of that, little dove,” he growls as his lips hover over your soaking cunt. “Be still for me. It’ll make things easier if you don’t struggle.”

He licks a long line up your folds, groaning at your taste—as if he’s yearned for this longer than you’re even aware of yourself. A low whimper escapes your lips, and he drags out an irritated sigh. You already cause a minor annoyance, and he likely doesn’t want to hear any more protests out of you.

“Though it’s unnecessary,” he purrs as he balls up the thong Gojo returns to him before stuffing it into your mouth. “I just can’t help myself when you look so good like this.”

He closes his lips over your leaking, oversensitive pussy, his tongue rolling along your folds and twisting around your clit. You wish you can move, you wish you can scream, but they’re all muffled through the gag. You know better than to spit it out—it’s only going to anger him and the last thing you want is something worse than this. If this can even get any worse, which it certainly can.

His tongue rolls along your clit a few times, eliciting more reluctant moans out of you. You have wished it was a real tongue on your pussy instead of your clit sucker or something, but definitely not like this. You know they say be careful what you wish for, but when you wished for some action in your life, you absolutely did not mean in this form with two psychopaths absolutely obsessed with you.

Though, you have a feeling that Geto is the true mastermind behind all of this. It doesn’t even seem like Gojo is directly involving himself at all; he’s just going along with whatever Geto wants. Much like an obedient dog.

His mouth doesn’t leave your pussy and his violet gaze remains focused on yours. Geto’s more akin to a rabid animal than a person in this state, just feasting off of any scrapes he can and in this case those scrapes are your pussy. What a disgusting way to put it, but what other way can you? Nothing about this is arousing in the slightest!

His hands fly up to your breasts, his fingers and thumbs flicking and twisting the nubs of either one and you wail through the gag. He only chuckles in response, slipping one of your nipples into his mouth. He suckles hard, needily, his tongue twirling around the nub before biting down on it. He delivers the same treatment to the other nipple before repeating the process over and over. He leaves behind a number of hickeys and bruises, and this is far from over as he pulls back to observe his handiwork.

He even whips out his smart phone, snapping a few photos of you in such a humiliating, disheveled state, muttering something under his breath about showing them to Gojo later.

He slips it back into his pocket as he takes in another long eyeful of you, completely at his mercy. Your whole body shudders from his cold gaze. It’s only the beginning of such a humiliating way to go, but what else does he have in store for you?

“Since it looks like we have to ease you into this, to take us both,” Geto purrs as he lines his cock to your slick, gooey front entrance. All perfect for him to slide his entire length and girth easily, but he wants to be merciful to you—kind, even, and it makes bile threaten to spill out of your mouth at the mere prospect. “I won’t go further than the head for now.”

As he says so, the tip catches in your hole and a breathy gasp escapes your lips. Oh my god, does it sting, but he doesn’t care now, does he? He coos, inching the rest of the head inside and settling it in there, gasping as your spongy walls already try to clench around him.

“Oh, someone’s been dying for some action, hm? Don’t worry, little dove. I plan to give you everything and more. You’ll be wanting for nothing,” he vows as he shudders while bucking his hips once, testing your reactions.

It stings a little, but you have stuck dildos and vibrator wands up yourself. You just don’t expect his size, and you have a feeling Gojo isn’t much different in that aspect.

“Does it feel good to get some real cock in there for once?” he taunts in a low, mocking purr. “Especially, considering I’m quite large compared to most. That must thrill you, hm?”

You can’t believe he expects you to answer that. Your protests and whines are muffled through your panties.

Not from you, you think, sneering in your mind, but you don’t dare utter out loud.

You don’t give him the satisfaction of answering out loud, glowering at him as you grit your teeth. You’re at a loss of what more you can do. What else can you do?

He keeps a gentle rhythm, but doesn’t let you adjust. Not that you really need to, it’s just the tip, he swears, but just the head feels so fucking big.

He pulls out before he comes, so he’s at the least merciful.

“You feel perfect,” he groans ins reverent tone. “I can only expect this to feel just as good when I’m inside.”

His finger rims the ring of muscle just below.

“No…” you whimper more audibly through the gag before you can hold your tongue.

“No?” he coos through a disapproving scowl. “My little dove, you don’t have a choice. What we’ve done is only a taste of what we’re capable of doing if you disobey; do you really wish to find out how much damage we can create together?”

Your fearful eyes meet his—cold. Manic. Deranged.

“I can assure you, my love,” he drawls, thrusting the tip of himself once more. “It’s world shattering.”

You don’t dare challenge that statement; he’s not bluffing, and you know it. If he can do what he did at the bakery, what else can he do? And can he do that at a grander scale than what you already saw?

You fear the answer. You don’t entertain the thoughts further as Geto toys with you.

In what feels like hours, the humiliation stops.

After Geto has his way with you, he releases you from the chains and helps you to your feet. He brings his hands to cup your face, brushing his thumbs along your skin.

“While you are going to be arranged to remain with me, Satoru will be making plenty of visits,” he explains, pulling you into his chest in a protective hold as he guides you out of the underground dungeon. The stairs lead to his temple, apparently. He’s some fake priest or something. You figure he’s going to lead you to the restroom to help you wash up.

And you’re right. The first door you find leads to one and he ushers you inside, following after you and shutting the door behind him. You still are at a loss of how your life changed in a matter of seconds. You should not have taken your freedom for granted, and now you’re in the hands of this…whatever this man is.

Goosebumps rise on your skin as he approaches you from behind, rubbing your elbows in an attempt to soothe your overactive nerves. As if he wants to truly make you feel at home here, which somehow feels progressively more cruel…

“I’m very pleased to have you here,” he murmurs into your neck as he moves to start the shower, waiting for the water to preheat. “The girls will also be happy to know we secured you successfully.”

Secured? you think in disgust, glaring daggers at the audacity of this…this…fucker! This absolute piece of shit, dirtbag, scumbag! Who the hell does he think he is?! Doesn’t he mean kidnapped?

You don’t say a word as helps you into the shower, taking the time to clean off all of the dirt and grime while stealing a few kisses from you in the process. You don’t even think about protesting, not only knowing what he can do, but also not knowing the full extent of what he can do. Once he’s done, he allows you to perch onto the edge of the bathtub attached to the shower as he gathers a few items for you. He's trying to be hospitable, as if that’s going to fix the damage he’s done.

Un-fucking-believable. You don’t even know what you’re dealing with here, either, and he has yet to give you a real reason why you’re here.

“Now come,” Geto says as he helps you into a robe. “You have a new family waiting for you, my little dove. The girls are waiting to see you.”

“Do they know about this?” you mumble, halting in place. A part of you wants to believe those girls are innocent in all of this, but oh, how wrong you are going to be around it. “This side to you?”

He quirks an eyebrow at that. “I hide nothing from my girls. In fact, they’re the ones who insisted on you staying with us, you know. It’s them you should be thanking. They decided they want you, and that’s what I did.”

You feel your heart drop at that newfound information. What’s that people say these days? Don’t ever think you know a person’s heart. They’re always going to surprise you. Even with two girls as innocent and vulnerable as Nanako and Mimiko seem…apparently, they arrange this lifestyle for you.

“I see,” you mutter, but you don’t want to admit defeat just yet.

Geto tilts your head to meet his eyes, thumb brushing along your cheek. If you don’t know any better, you could dare call the look in his eyes something akin to affection. But you know you’re nothing more than a pet to him.

“Don’t fret, little dove. You’ll see that you belong with our little family in no time at all.”

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fckeddiemunson · 6 months ago

Text

Blurred Lines Pt. 2

Part One Here:

Summary: What was a one time thing is turning into a full fledged affair

Warnings: 18+ONLY MDNI. some choking, p in v, creampie, more cheating, handjob, spitting

Notes: AHH ok part 2 is here! Please enjoy, I may make a part 3 i have some ideas.....

2750 words

Getting away with cheating is not a humbling feeling. It boosts your ego without even realising it. And then suddenly you’re taking risks you never would have before. You think you’re untouchable. Especially in this case when there’s two parties involved who have so much to lose. It doesn’t get any better with time either, the longer you aren’t caught for the less careful you become about hiding fleeting glances, small, overlooked touches. Then there’s after work. Going back to your respective homes, playing a husband and father or playing a dutiful fiancé. You think it won’t catch up to you, but it always will.

The immediate day after you were with Rusty, you called in sick – something you had never done. You were sick to your stomach that day, you couldn’t even be at home. Dom was at home sleeping in the same bed you let Rusty fuck you in, worse in the same sheets. Your absence was met with a slew of texts from Rusty, get better soon, hope you’re in tomorrow, where’s the link to my google calendar?, please sweetheart I’m useless without you. It was honestly a bit overwhelming. You spent most of that day in your car, driving past the office about ten times like a maniac. Once evening hit and you knew Dom would have left for work you went home. You collapsed once inside, relief rushing through you at being alone. You breathed deeply and smelt the dinner Dom had cooked and left warming in the oven for you. despite the rough patch you were having, he still made time for you like this, it made you sick thinking about it. You frowned, a twinge of guilt coursed through you as picked at the food, not very hungry. Your phone vibrated, filling the silent void you had cocooned yourself in. you felt even worse checking the message, from Dom sending his love and hoping you enjoyed dinner. Sending back a message with love hearts you shut your phone and cringed. But as you sat there longer, chewing slowly on the potatoes your loving fiancé had cooked. You made a decision. A decision to not let this effect you. Evidently you had gotten away with it. Everything would be fine so long as it remained a one-time thing.

The next morning you walked into the office with your head held high. Rusty had beat you into the office, not many people had filed in this early. You marched into his office locked the door and leaned against the door with your arms crossed.

“The other night was a one-time thing.” Your stern voice almost echoed in the room.

“Jesus. Keep your voice down!” Rusty looked suspiciously out the little window, not a soul was around besides the two of you. Ignoring him a little you continued; “I don’t regret it, god, I don’t regret it, but we have lives we must maintain.”

“I agree. We work so well together is all. We got carried away is what happened. For the record, I don’t regret it either, I should but I don’t. Shall we begin the day? Coffee?” Rusty had already made you a cup, it sat next to his on the desk. And just like that. It was swept under the rug, nothing more needed to be said.

A week passed uneventfully; more prep work was done for the woman whose body was found in the dumpster. The trial really was only another few weeks away and at this point it seemed cut and dry, open and closed. All thanks to your hard (very hard) work with Rusty that night. It wasn’t until you felt yourself staring at Rusty again when you should’ve been working that you felt concerned again. You felt an invisible tug towards him, a shudder in your lower stomach when you studied his lips for too long. You were reminded how good they felt on you, how good they felt on your neck – no. You shook your head, trying to snap out of your daydream, or more memory of Rusty.

The next week was full of late nights in the office with Rusty, the case now was too sensitive and confidential to work on anywhere else. Most of your team was in the office until about 8pm. It was the Friday before the trial was set to start, the following Monday. It was now approaching 8:30pm, everyone had already vacated, under the impression that we wouldn’t discover anything new this close to trial. But Rusty was insistent, he was beyond thorough and would not stop until he was satisfied there was nothing else to find. You had organised food for the two of you and stood in the break room, dishing up a plate of chicken and rice. Rusty was standing over his desk when you took it in, his hand catching yours as you placed his food.

“You know I really appreciate you. You’re the best assistant anyone could ask for.” His thumb rubbed the back of your hand, smiling.

“I’m much more than an assistant you know” You whispered, sliding your hand away.

“You’re so much more.” Rusty said quietly, you looked back at him. Without thinking, you tilted your head up and kissed him, eyes closing briefly. He kissed back, leaning into you. But it was all over too quickly, you pulled away, scurrying back to the break room to grab your food. You stood there with your hands on your hips, staring at the ground in disbelief. Another decision was made in that moment. The true point of no return.

“Fuck!” Rusty yelled after a few more hours of meticulous reading and frustrated re-reading of the case files.

“There’s just nothing else. I can’t find anything to fortify our case further.” Rusty slumped in his office chair, rubbing his temples and frowning.

“Maybe that’s because its already foolproof.” You offered, throwing your stack of papers back on the desk.

“No, it has to be better.” Rusty almost snapped, frustration overcoming him. You rolled your eyes, not appreciating the tone.

“Come on. Grab your things.” In a moment you were up, handbag and laptop in hand.

“What, why?” Rusty slowly got up, grabbing his things and attempting to tidy up before leaving for the weekend.

“We’re going to clear our heads.” You headed for the elevator; Rusty followed behind chuckling after you. Rusty’s arm brushed against yours the entire lift, he didn’t seem to want to move, and you were trying to stop yourself from moving closer to him. You looked at him again, his tie still tight from this morning. You placed your bag on the ground and reached up to his tie, dodging his gaze.

“Its now after work, got to loosen up a bit.” You loosened his tie, hands lingering on his chest, his warmth radiated up through your fingertips. In an instant, he backed you into the lift wall and kissed you deeply. You gasped as his hands pulled at the bottom of your shirt from your skirt, rucking it up and sliding his hands under. You felt his fingertips working upwards, running across your ribcage, feeling his way. He pulled his hands out and fiddled with the buttons up at your chest. The lift pinged as he undid two, exposing your cleavage to him, he looked smug as you walked to your car.

You drove the two of you to a cliff top lookout, it overlooked the whole city. At this time of night, you expected local teenagers with beer getting drunk, but it was thankfully deserted by the time you got up there. Rusty had asked many questions along the way, not a man who liked to be surprised. You had answered all of them, with Rusty kissing your hand. The city lights twinkled in the distance, feeling a lifetime away from the lookout. You sat in silence for a moment, both looking ahead at the view. It was you who broke the silence, sighing deeply and looking at Rusty.

“Fuck it.” You whispered, more to yourself and hiked up your skirt, climbing over the centre console, and into Rusty’s lap. He was amused, a smirk pulling at the edges of his lips.

“I don’t want it to be a one-time thing, Rusty. I want you. I have craved you ever since that night. I can’t stop thinking about you.” You knew you sounded obsessive and a bit crazy. You knew it was a lot to be asking of him, of anyone but that longing desire you had burned for him. You tried to be a head strong person, but you had somehow almost girl-bossed your way into an affair.

“I don’t like keeping secrets from my wife.” Rusty was already playing with the buttons on your shirt, teasing you.

“So, I’m sure you told her about the other night then?” You stared him down, lifting his chin and forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.”

“Just shut up.” Rusty’s voice was harsh as he snaked his hands around the back of your head, pulling you down for a kiss. It was rough, all teeth nipping at each other’s lips. You let him kiss you, your hands snaking down to play with the buckle on his pants. Rusty let out a deep sigh as your hand brushed against him. He was rigid as the back of your hand stroked him, pulling his cock out of his pants. You eagerly spat, it landed on his cock, Rusty hissed at the contact. He bucked his hips when you touched him, a soft whine escaping his lips as you jerked him up and down with lazy strokes. You leant forward, lips connecting to his exposed neck, you felt a low warming in your stomach as you licked a stripe up his neck, stopping at his jawline and kissing him along it finally reaching his mouth. You licked his lower lip, begging for entrance, whining when he waved a hand through your hair pulling back, his grip firm. You locked eyes as your hand continued to stroke him up and down, now painfully hard, the tip blushing pink as you ran your thumb over the slit. Rusty grunted your name, his head falling back against the seat. Taking the opportunity, you kissed him, pulling him in and biting his lower lip, running your tongue against his now swollen lip.

Rusty took the chance and pushed you back, landing against the dashboard, your legs spread for him, pussy covered only by sheer stockings. You started pulling them down awkwardly, attempting to shimmy them off you when Rusty put his hand on yours to stop. His wicked smirk returned, hands grabbing on the material at the apex of your thighs, gripping tight and ripping a hole in them. A surprised gasp left your mouth as you stared at him through half closed lids, lustfully enjoying the way Rusty kneaded at your exposed thighs. His hand grabbed your thigh dangerously high, his thumb swiping over your underwear, brushing your clit. His thumb hooked under the band, feeling the warmth of your cunt as he inched towards your dripping entrance. A mix between a moan and a dark chuckle left his mouth when he felt how wet you were for him. How all it took was a hand-job to get you aching for him. He looked at you then, and you felt powerful, eyes following your hand down and gripping his dick as you leant forward and grinded your hips down onto him, his tip flicking against your clit.

“Please.” He whispered, hips meeting your grinding, breathless moans leaving him. You slipped forward, tilted your hips and sunk down slowly onto his length. Rusty was big, there was no way to put it lightly and you hissed at the burn sinking further onto him. He knew it too, he chuckled once you took him all the way, pausing to breathe deeply. You moaned as he bucked up impatiently, pulling you towards him and gripping your hips tightly urging you to move on him. Settling yourself, you placed your hands on the car seat for leverage and began moving your hips up and down. You felt his cock sliding in and out of you and you relished the feeling, short panting moans as your pace quickened. Rusty’s fingers kneaded and bruised your hips as you rode him, helping you move as he bucked in shallow thrusts from below. He felt so deep inside you, his cock nudging against the spongey spot making you mew for him. You ground yourself down on him, your clit rubbing back and forth over his neat patch of hair, and you released a moan, feeling yourself getting closer and closer.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” You whined as he tangled his hands in your hair, pulling you forward to kiss you. His thrusts deepened and quickened as you rested yourself on his shoulder, panting and moaning as his cock pumped in and out of you now almost harshly. He pushed you back against the dashboard, hand travelling up to your throat and holding you in place as he thrusted upwards into you, still seated in the car. His fingers wrapped around your throat, and he squeezed, testing the waters. Rusty groaned hotly, chuckling darkly as he felt your cunt clench when he squeezed. He did it again and you moaned, it came out high pitched and strained as Rusty kept his hand on your throat.

“Oh, you are a little slut for me, aren’t you?” Rusty’s voice had changed, he sounded rugged as he egged you on.

“My own personal stress relief. Isn’t that what you wanted, to ‘clear my head’?” Rusty felt his ego inflate ten-fold when he looked at you, mimicking your words from earlier. You met his eyes, cock drunk and watering as you held onto his hand, choking you. He tore his hand away from your throat, grabbed your leg and hitched it up higher, resting on his shoulder as he inched forward, fucking you deeper. You couldn’t answer him, you were too fucked out and teetering on the verge of an orgasm, eyes fluttering shut.

Rusty’s hand made its way to your cunt again, his thumb rubbed small circles on your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you. You jerked against his touch, suddenly becoming too much as your orgasm built in your stomach.

“Rusty, its too much” you attempted to move his hand, but he gripped your wrist and held it away, his thumb moving quicker against you.

“You can take it sweetheart.” His thrusts quickened, his pace becoming erratic and sharp.

“Fuck.” You breathed out, immediately whining as you spasmed. A hot and cold feeling washed over you as Rusty kept on fucking you through your orgasm. Your cunt pulsed, over stimulated and Rusty wasn’t stopping, he was chasing his own high. He grunted and pulled you closer to him, feeling him everywhere. He was too deep, he smelt too good, his arms wrapped around you possessively as he thrusted the last few times. He nestled against you, burying his head in your neck and breathing in deeply as he grabbed you tighter against him, moaning into your hair, his warm cum spilling into you. You eventually relaxed into his tight grip, too tired to move. Rusty felt too good in your arms to move as well, his hand stroked your hair, you could feel his cum dribbling out of you. Rusty made no attempt to move, just stayed locking you in his arms. The rush was subsiding, and you both enjoyed each other’s silent company. You both felt it thought. The pull towards one another. You could hear his mind turning over like cogs, both coming to another decision. It was another night spent with the wrong person. Another night spent with each other, but now he was your arms, feeling far too intimate to be just sex.

You were the first to break the silence, “Rusty, I don’t want to go home, yet.” Your hand snaked in behind his neck, tilting it up so you could look at him.

“I don’t want too either.” His voice was soft, almost as though he didn’t want to admit it to himself.

You don’t know how long you stayed up there, embraced in each other’s arms, but you knew something had changed. There was no going back after this.

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