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nereidprinc3ss · 6 months ago

Text

hourglass

in which spencer disappears from fem!reader's life entirely for three months, right as it seems they were finally about to make things official. when he comes back they reunite, all the while knowing things can't be the same as they were.

18+ (smut, angst) warnings/tags: oh god so many. NOT canon compliant in the slightest, i make shit up, softdom!spence, nipple stuff prob, fingering, oral f receiving, piv sex, unprotected sex, pet names, tara mentioned, depression, mentions of trauma cause its the prison arc duh, passing mentions of alcohol, mentions of spencer losing weight, reader mistakenly thinks spencer tried to kill himself BUT ONLY FOR A SECOND, where is diana reid, nobody knows or cares, probably filming glee, optimistic ending a/n: haven't posted smut in forever but this wip required it and the angst was so angsty i just had to finish it. it was started in jan or feb and subsequently added to and changed months apart and then edited so the writing quality varies from section to section which i apologize for. originally based on good guy by julia jacklin... also the odyssey by homer? can't really explain that one you'll just have to see for yourself anyway byeeee ilysm!!! PLS tell me if you liked it! or if you hated it! but preferably if you liked it! MWAH! wc <12k

It’s been about three months since you last saw Spencer Reid.

About three months since you had an early Valentine’s Day celebration (even though you weren’t a couple) complete with champagne (even though he doesn’t usually drink) and slow dancing (even though you swore you’d be terrible and he spent the first ten minutes laughing at you as you stepped on his toes.)

About three months since you finally settled your head on his shoulder and let the warbling vinyl carry you somewhere distant as the two of you danced slow circles on the parquet floor for what felt like hours.

You’d have liked him to stay later that night. You’d have liked him to stay all night if you were being honest with yourself, but at 11:45 he gently pulled away and told you he had to go.

“Curfew?” you joked, the corner of your mouth lifting a little and you hoped you were hiding your disappointment well.

“Actually, I’m going down to Texas for a few days to speak with one of the leading doctors in experimental Alzheimer's and dementia treatment. I’m going to see if he can get my mom into a clinical trial. I leave early tomorrow morning.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing, Spencer! What are you doing still here? You should be at home getting ready to go!”

A rosy blush stains his cheeks and he looks down at the ground, laughing that little self-deprecating laugh of his. It makes your heart dance to see him so happy, makes you want to wrap your arms around him and never let him go so that he knows how much you absolutely adore him—but you settle for an affectionate squeeze where your hands have come to rest on his biceps.

“I wanted to see you tonight because I won’t be here for Valentine’s Day... but I still really wanted to spend it with you,” he admits meekly.

If before your heart was dancing, it is now melting.

The dreaded ‘what are we’ talk has been lurking in the dark corners of every conversation you have with each other lately—at least, in your mind it has. What you have with Spencer is not easily defined, and near impossible to explain to your friends—you act like a couple, you go out on dates, he introduces you to his team like you’re his girlfriend without ever putting it into so many words—but this validation that your pseudo-relationship might be evolving is better than any flowers he could have gotten you (although the peonies he brought will look very nice on your bedside table.)

“Four whole days... what will I do without you?” you whisper, brushing a hand along his face, and your chest aches with the heavy truth of it—despite the fact that he often is gone for stretches about that length. They don’t ever start to feel shorter.

“Well, you can start by reading that copy of The Odyssey I annotated for you.”

“Depressing,” you admit. “And a little ominous, considering you’re about to embark on a hero’s journey.”

“I think you’ll like this one,” he smiles.

You chew on your bottom lip, looking up at him as you think.

“Give me something to look forward to,” you say, earnestly.

“I—well, honestly, I just really want to kiss you and I’ve wanted to for a long time now and, you know, if that’s something you’re maybe also interested in then we could, uh, figure out a time to—”

“You want to kiss me?”

“Wh—you couldn’t tell?” Spencer says, like he can’t believe it.

As if on reflex, you lunge up and capture his lips with your own. It obviously catches him by surprise, but when you lower from your tiptoes he follows you, pulling you in closer and holding your face in his hands.

It’s too natural, too right, to be exhilarating. There’s no rush of adrenaline—it's more like stepping into a hot bath or warming your freezing hands at a fire. Like pieces clicking into place. It’s a relief.

You breathe into it, letting more and more of yourself melt against him. He keeps coming back to you deeper and deeper like a rising tide, and you want more than anything to keep getting closer to him—but then he stops. He stays close enough for you to breathe his air, but dodges your kiss gently before supplanting it with a gentle one to the corner of your mouth.

“I really have to go,” he breathes, before moving away from your mouth to kiss your forehead and speak softly against your skin. “If I don’t leave now I’ll be here all night.”

Which is exactly what you want, and the implication does little to make you want him less. But you care about him too much to be so selfish.

At some point, his hands found their way into your hair, and you gently grab his wrists.

“Incentive for you to come home.”

Nearly three months since that night.

At first when he stopped answering texts, you’d assumed he just had too much going on down in Texas. Which you could understand—you knew how stressful this situation with his mother was.

Even when four days came and went without even an alert from him that he was back in town, you thought, okay, maybe he’s been called away on a case. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s disappeared because of his work. But even then, he’d at least text you enough information so that you would know he was alive. Now, radio silence.

So you tried not to be clingy. You tried to act like an adult, to focus on school and your life outside of Spencer, but when Tara Lewis cancelled your weekly meeting due to an “unforeseen work-related emergency”you called her immediately. Tara was something of a mentor, and it was she who had connected you and Spencer to begin with. You had met the other members of his team by that point, yes, but none who you knew as well as Tara.

When she had informed you that Spencer had been arrested in Mexico and was now facing prison time for murder, you laughed.

Laughed until you realized her end of the line was silent.

Realized it was not at all a joke.

In a catatonic state of tranquility, you asked her for more details. Beyond assuring you of his innocence, she couldn’t (or more likely, wouldn’t) provide them. Asked where he was now. Asked all the right things that made sense to ask.

Then you hung up and had a panic attack because Tara said something about 25 years and you saw Spencer evaporate from your future like an apparition.

Slowly, you felt him evaporating from your past, too. Those memories from the night he left, became visions of you swaying with a ghost. Holding nothing but light between your hands as you kissed the peony air of your apartment.

He doesn’t want to see you, she had said into the phone one night, her tinny voice cutting in and out. You’re not on his list of approved visitors.

“You asked him about me?” you had whispered, curled up on top of your made bed in the dark.

I tried. I’m sorry. I’ll call you when I know more.

All your days melded together like a muddied smear of paint. Suddenly you felt you had nothing to look forward to. No anchor, no goal. Yes, a PhD... and then what?

The only thing that punctuated one 24 hour period from the next was the time you spent crying because Spencer was in prison and he didn’t want to see you and by the looks of things you may never see him again. When you weren’t crying, you were thinking about how your life was a big cosmic joke. An unfortunate statistical anomaly that didn’t mean anything to anyone else, and that you couldn’t do anything about.

That copy of The Odyssey, which wasn’t even bound and instead was a thick stack of printer paper organized by a single black clip, became something of a manifesto for you—a tome that your poured over, reading and re-reading each note in the margins, each word beautiful and imbued with meaning because you knew Spencer had selected every single one specifically for you. You traced the letters reverently, because in a way this was the last thing he had said to you—about Lattimore’s faith to the original text, Merrill’s strict use of dactylic hexameter, the stylings of Wilson and Lombardo, and how he thought you would enjoy Hammond’s prose just as much as he did.

Day by day it was becoming more prophetic than fictional, and you allowed yourself to sink into madness. You would rather be a deluded zealot than be nothing at all.

He didn’t want to see you.

He might as well have been dead, for all that you were grieving him. And you started to hate him, because he wasn’t dead, but wouldn’t do you the kindness of proving it. Like a festering wound, scratched open day after day so as not to ever heal, you had to live knowing he was less than an hour away. So no, you weren’t exactly over it. You lived day by day, waiting for the occasional call from Tara to keep you updated on Spencer, but either she didn’t want to share much about how he was doing, or he had specifically barred her from doing so, because she was always sparse on the personal side of things. That thought actually lifted your spirits, because it meant he was at least acknowledging your existence in some tiny way.

But your routine was becoming more regular, and so you staid on top of your classes and your non-Reid related meetings with Tara once a week, and you learned to dip your toes into existential dread and the oily black pool of depression every night without ever fully submerging yourself. You learned hope, because it was pretty much all you had, and the BAU had confidence that they would get Spencer out one way or another so you did too.

So you didn’t really think about it when you missed a couple of calls from Tara some evening in May. You were preparing for finals and had way too much on your plate academically to think about anything else which was a welcome relief so you fully embraced it. I’ll call her back tomorrow, you think, as you clean up from dinner before going back to the living room where your textbooks and papers are completely covering every available surface. Maybe I have no idea what I’m going to do with my life after school, but I’ll be damned if I don’t even make it that far.

Hours later, well into the night, you’d all but forgotten about the calls. A knock at the door takes you a bit by surprise, and you frown as you stand again, tugging your Georgetown sweatshirt down over your shorts as you shuffle to the entrance of your apartment. You’re not expecting anyone, so you crack the door, peering around the edge of it.

And you couldn’t even consider trying to hide that shaky inhalation of dead air when you see Spencer standing on the other side.

Surely you’re hallucinating.

Surely this man in front of you who looks like he just got back from a day of work didn’t spend three months in prison pretending you didn’t exist.

He looks the same. Hair a bit longer, maybe—and gaunter even more than is normal for him.

But it's him.

You can’t think about the apprehensive look on his face—you can’t think about the impossibility of him being here. You can’t think at all. Without your explicit permission, your body surges forward into his, and he’s real, and alive, and warm, and he is an anachronism in the hallway as he accepts everything you pour into the embrace, doesn’t flinch when you move your arms from around his waist to loop around his neck and back to his waist again with crushing force because you just can’t get him close enough.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer mutters into your hair, I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry, he keeps saying, rubbing your back as you try to find a solid grip on the sleek material of his suit—try to gather all the pieces of him, already afraid he might fall apart and float away again.

“You—dis—disappeared,” you hiccup after an eternity, pulling away enough to look up at his pretty face. Tears blur your vision and darken the front of his jacket, bending the florescent lights so they form a kind of halo above his head.

Through the surreal haze you can see his throat bob.

“I know.”

He knows?

You scoff.

“You have no fucking idea, Spencer. What the fuck is wrong with you? I—I'm—”

The hot anger is such a relief for a second, boiling the oceans of your despair into a wrathful, scorching fog, but as soon as you try to tell him how you feel, the barbed wire cuts into your throat again. You shove him away, skin burning where his hands had been.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, hands hanging uselessly at his side. There’s that kicked puppy look about him—and it’s familiar, but now there’s more damage. You don’t know anything about his time in prison, you haven’t heard a damn thing, but beneath the glassy desperation in his eyes there is an unfathomable void that seems to be preventing him from being fully present—and you realize for the first time that he is different.

It chills you.

Before, you and Spencer shared everything. There wasn’t one part of his internal machinations that you didn’t understand, nothing you kept from each other. But as you study him now from a few feet away, you realize there might as well be a yawning chasm between the two of you.

He is so different.

Those eyes look deeper. No gears turning just behind the slashes of gold and brown anymore—only an endless dark corridor that goes places you will never go.

Gone is the perpetual boyish up-turn at the corner of his lips that always made him look slightly vacant in a way that you found incredibly amusing. Something you had been so fond of, even if you teased him.

He seems to have aged ten years—if not physically, then in demeanor. And now you feel like a little kid throwing a tantrum.

You cross your arms, suddenly unable to meet his eyes.

You’re embarrassed. And pissed. And relieved. Everything is worse and better. You want to fall back into his arms, but you have been jarred by the revelation that this might not be the same Spencer. It might not be the same relationship. You have no idea where you stand.

He says your name gently, with so much familiarity you’re briefly jerked into the past. It makes you wish you could look up to find him as he was three months ago. Wish this was just a bad dream. But that’s not fair to him.

“Sorry,” you mutter, studying the grey carpet fibers instead of looking at him.

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says immediately, “you’re right. I don’t—” he clears his throat— “I’m being incredibly selfish. I shouldn’t have just shown up, I’ll just—I'll leave. I’m sorry.”

A silent moment passes.

You don’t look up as he turns and swiftly begins to move down the hall toward the stairway, leaving as quickly and silently as he had come, like a few bars of a song sighed in and away on a fleeting breeze.

Your bare feet are concretely planted, imagining him jogging down the steps and speed-walking away from your building—

And suddenly you’re sprinting after him, feeling like you might puke because Spencer was just here and you let him go again—and even though you’re still so mad and confused and hurt, the realization that he is leaving again makes the entire building spin and lurch.

“Wait!” You yell, almost wiping out as you run down the stairs and whip around corners in your slippery fucking socks. “Please, wait!”

The lobby is already empty as you spill out into it, and cold dread tightens around your neck like a fist as you shoulder your way through the double doors and right into Spencer.

“Please don’t leave again, you just—I'm sorry, I really need you to not go—” you blabber, lachrymose once more, gripping onto his forearms for dear life.

“I’m not going,” he breathes shakily. “I tried to leave because I think you were right and maybe I should and maybe it would be better for you but I can’t.”

“You can’t,” you agree, more sob than spoken word. He cups your jaw, then your cheeks, wiping tears and brushing away hair like he can’t figure out how to hold enough of you between his hands. The wild kaleidoscope of his eyes, bright and alive and real as he scans you desperately captures your attention enough to slow the tears to a trickle. He notices this and stares back, entranced.

A silent agreement is made, or maybe an inevitable fate is accepted—either way, something was set in motion three months ago and it matters to see it through. Spencer kisses you and you’re ready for it. You don’t need slow or tender. You need to feel how he feels. You need to know what he knows.

You sling your arms around his neck and he pulls you closer until you almost tip backward, chasing the bruising kiss even as you regain your footing. You want to drink him in and you do your best, breathing deeply as he kisses you deeper, backing you inside and toward the elevator.

“Is this okay?” he manages, only after blindly reaching for and mashing the up button on the wall panel.

Ideally it wouldn’t happen like this, but the world you live in obviously isn’t ideal and your personal situations as they coincide are far from ideal, so this is how it has to happen. But it’s hard to explain, and you’d rather not admit that this is so far from what you wanted for both of you and follow up with the fact that despite that you need him like you need water. So you don’t say a word as the metal doors slide open promptly. Instead you pull him in and let him press you to the chrome wall as he hits your floor button, and that very hand comes back to grab your ass like you didn’t think Spencer Reid capable of. It almost aches as his fingers dig into the flesh, but it’s a good ache because it means he’s real and he’s there.

You gasp as he hitches your leg up, arching into him. The shorts that you’re wearing leave very little to the imagination to begin with, but they become downright indecent like this.

Quickly the elevator stops and the doors hiss open. You don’t hesitate to pull Spencer by the hand down the hall. When you notice you left your door wide open, you don’t even care. Neither does he, apparently—once you’re inside he slams it shut, flipping the deadbolt while his eyes are glued to you like you’re already naked. Now Spencer is shameless in the way he drags his eyes over every curve, every place your clothes and hair are disheveled from his touch and eye-fucks you so obviously it makes your face warm. Three months ago Spencer would have at least been bashful about it when he met your eyes again, but this Spencer is far from apologetic as he pins you with his burning gaze once more. His hand stays stuck to the door like he’s holding himself back.

“Is this what you want?”

There’s an undercurrent of sorrow below the gravely arousal, like this isn’t what he wanted for the two of you either. But you’re both at the mercy of fate. This is all you have, and it might be all you can do for each other anymore. So you don’t need to say that, because he understands.

“Yeah. Yes, this is what I want.”

For just a second more he watches you from his place by the door, and there’s an unexpected softness to it. He looks at you the way he would have looked at you before. Like as long as he stays there he can entertain the idea of being that person again.

Need wins out quickly, though, and he surges forward. Immediately you’re caught in the riptide of him, helpless as he kisses you all the way to your bedroom.

He’s never been in here before. You find yourself glad it’s relatively clean—one of the pastimes you’d picked up in his absence was keeping everything tidy. It was something you could control.

A lamp glows at your bedside. You lean against the footboard of your bed, hands timidly behind your back and suddenly shy to have in him in your intimate space. Both of you set aside the heaving desperation long enough to catch your breaths, and for him to scan the room like he too is being forced to reconcile with the innate and unexpected intimacy of the moment. He cuts a harsh, dark gash in your sweetly decorated bedroom, radiating something wild and powerful and unsure of himself like a chained bull as he takes in the soft, pale bedding, the paintings and photos taped to the walls, the woven rug and the sheer drapery. His breathing slows as he studies it all—eyes eventually catching on something behind you. Looking is unnecessary. You’re sure he’s spotted the dried peonies in their ceramic vase. Or maybe the now worn stack of papers that is his Odyssey, marked up and soft around the edges from constant flipping-through.

Then Spencer looks at you, and that softness seeps in again. Along with something like... fear? Grief?

In some other universe your first time with Spencer is sweet and giggly and kind and he smiles at the decor in your room and looks around with wonder because it’s another way he gets to know you. It’s a different way to learn you from the inside.

You sense that he’s caught in between universes right now as well, painfully aware of what he would have given you that he can’t anymore.

He breathes your name like an apology, and foolishly you let a second go by in which you think he might offer you one. But he doesn’t. Not with his words, anyway. His eyes tell a different story.

“It’s fine,” you say unprompted on a whispered exhale, then a little louder as you push off the footboard, crossing the space until your hands are on his chest. You focus on his tie, not making eye contact as you rush to undo it. “It’s fine.”

He lets you do this for a few seconds before finally covering your trembling hands with his own. You still can’t meet his eyes.

“We don’t have to do—”

“No! No, please. I want to. I need—I need us to be okay.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, catching your chin and forcing you to look at him. “We are okay. Me and you are fine.”

It’s a pretty thought, but it’s not true. In fact, it’s a hideous and abject affront to the truth. Sure, maybe you’re fine in comparison to last week. Maybe anything feels fine compared to an eight by six cell. But it would be impossible for you and Spencer, for your relationship, whatever that relationship may be, to be fine. It’s especially impossible for him to make that claim, after all he did or rather didn’t do while he was gone. What you need is for him to stay anyway. What you need is to find a way to be with him, to exist with him, even when you are so clearly not fine.

“I just need you to stay,” you whisper, and he’s already nodding, wide-eyed like he’d do anything for you. You ignore all the bitter venom rising in your throat. You pretend this isn’t all happening after he cut you out of his life with a dirty switchblade. Instead you focus on his hands on yours, the familiar smell of him, which invites you to let go of each and every thought and worry. He must’ve showered before coming here, you realize. How long has he been out? What happened?

“Okay. Okay, I can stay. What else can I do? How do I make it better?”

You sniffle and look back down.

“You can untie that for me.”

He hesitates, then nods some more, fingers working under yours to undo the tie around his neck.

“Okay.”

A moment goes by and after that final whispered word, the tension begins to build again. Spencer senses it in the way your fingertips linger on his chest and you step even closer, dragging them down to his belt. The metallic sound of it unbuckling, despite being your own doing, still manages to flip your stomach. How many times have you pictured this? When was the first time you realized you wanted it? You’re sure you haven’t stopped wanting it even once since then.

Spencer tosses the tie away and is shrugging off his jacket now, then before you see it coming he’s kissing you again, ducking down to do it. He feels taller this close up, and especially in your bedroom, where he just seems rather out of place. But you want him here. God, you want him here.

You break the kiss, forced to look down as you fumble with his belt.

“Sorry,” you gasp, embarrassed by your lack of dexterity. The light is barely sufficient to see what you’re doing, especially when he’s wearing black on black and your eyes are still bleary.

“You’re okay,” he assures you, and it’s so Spencer a fresh round of nerves electrifies the tips of your fingers. That thing is happening—the thing you’d hoped to avoid if you hadn’t lost momentum partway through, where you’re allowing your actual feelings for him to get in the way rather than getting swept up in the pathos of the moment and letting everything be easy and mindless. “Here, can I help you?”

But he doesn’t actually wait for an answer before he’s finishing off the belt for you, tugging it loose from his hips till it’s a leather coil in his hands. Your fingers brush the material and he lets you take it as if it were your prize. It’s heavier than you thought it’d be, and you just feel the weight of it in your hands for a moment, your dropped head brushing his chest.

You have a terrible feeling that if you do this now, it doesn’t mean everything will be alright. Because it can’t just go back to normal. Spencer has told you nothing of what must be an enormous trauma, and you haven’t spoken about it at all, but you sincerely doubt that after this he’s going to be ready to just jump into that committed relationship the two of you had been toying with for months before his absence. You’re almost... scared of him, now. Scared of where he’s been and what he’s endured—things you’re sure you couldn’t have taken. What that does to a person, you can’t imagine. He seems so solid and real in front of you now—but you know that’s not always enough. Maybe you’re just scared that somehow whatever he’s been through will have made him care for you less. That you were too far removed from the whole ordeal, and now you’ll never understand. If you could understand, maybe you could fix it for him. Maybe he’d stick around.

Still—even if you do end up pushing him further away in the long run—won't it have been worth it to have had him so completely, even just once?

You toss the belt to the ground, compressing all of these very complicated thoughts and feelings into a few seconds so short he can’t ask you any questions about them. Instead you find his top button, and just as you manage to undo it with relative ease he’s gently grabbing your wrists. You look up at him, immediately surrendering.

“If we’re going to do this I need you to relax a little bit.”

Gears grind in your chest. You feel need and anxiety comingling in every square inch of your body. It’s a sick buzz—a high on an empty stomach.

“I can’t,” you admit.

“Yeah, you can,” Spencer gently disagrees, slowly lowering your hands. When he’s sure you’re not going to try ripping his clothes off again, he releases, and his eyes lower to the zipper of your hoodie. His fingers follow, warm against the soft triangle of revealed skin at your chest as he grips the small piece of metal between barely shaking fingers. “You can.”

You match his eyeline, breathing shallowly and watching as he slowly drags the zipper down. You wonder if that sound has haunted his fantasies the way the sound of his belt has haunted yours. If he’s seen this hoodie on you and wondered what’s underneath, staring at you and daydreaming during movie night with you none the wiser.

Both of you have your eyes glued to the span of skin as the zipper parts. Spencer stalls with the zipper at your sternum, just below the band of your bra.

Right. No shirt.

You look up and find his eyes already on you, tinged with a curious kind of humor.

“I wasn’t expecting guests.”

The words come out shy. Spencer’s chuckle has its own nervous airy quality as he resumes tugging on your zipper, leaning down until your noses bump.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

Then he kisses you again, a little sweeter now. Sweet enough to give you butterflies and for them to flutter right out of your stomach and spill from your lips in a little whimper against his.

It comes as a surprise when he pushes the fabric from your shoulders without looking or asking. Not that you’d have said no—you're just underprepared for how assertive he is in this foreign context.

Left just in your flimsy shorts and your thin bra, you feel quite exposed—but Spencer’s hands are as demanding and hungry as his mouth. They skim up your sensitive sides and sweep lower, suggesting less proper placement over your ass and pulling at your bottoms until you gently put a stop to their wandering.

“Wait. We’re... we’re uneven.”

It’s a struggle to get any words out at all when he keeps chasing your lips, nipping at you like he physically can’t stand not kissing you, but they catch his attention and he laughs airily, pulling back to let his gaze pour over your less clothed form. It lingers and catches and lights you up everywhere it touches, drops of heat soaking into your skin and making you feel all fuzzy and needy.

“We are,” he acknowledges, tone low and colored with the faintest smile. “You’re a lot prettier without your clothes on than I am.”

“I don’t believe you.”

The challenge comes immediately and thoughtlessly. Spencer’s golden eyes flash up to yours. He’s breathing a little harder than usual.

“You want me to show you what I mean?”

If that means getting him naked, then yes, absolutely.

You nod, but rather than immediately stripping, he takes your hand and holds his own open next to it. A thick pink scar bisects some pretty significant palmistry lines, but you don’t mention that. Instead you swallow—your thoughts, your words, your nausea.

“That’s new.”

You wonder how you hadn’t noticed it earlier.

He nods.

“A lot is new.”

It sounds almost like he’s challenging you—there's a kind of tremulous force in his voice, despite the perpetual softness there, like he’s inviting you to say it’s ugly. And you realize he’s referring to more than just the glowing scar cutting an asteroid trail against the flesh of him palm. The scars he obtained in prison must form a constellation over his body.

“I don’t care. I wanna see you.”

Spencer swallows, cupping your face with the scarred hand once more. You can’t feel it against your cheek but you know it hasn’t gone away.

“I’m sure you think you do,” he permits, and that’s where the conversation ends for the moment—with his hand on your face and his lips back on yours. “For now why don’t you let me worry about you?”

Obediently, you breathe, “okay.”

This is, for whatever reason, amusing to him. The brief levity dies as quick as it comes like a snuffed-out brush fire as soon as he lets his hands fall back down to your hips.

“I want... I want to give you slow. But...”

But slow is for people who didn’t lose three months of their life. Slow is for people who don’t know what it’s like to be starving. Slow is not for the desperate.

You understand the feeling.

“I don’t need slow.”

You’ll let him use you up like quick-burning fuel if that’s what he needs. You’ll go as fast and as bright and as hot as he tells you.

“But you want slow,” he murmurs, a secret acknowledged into your own waiting mouth. You’d keep it there forever. You could be the object he hides his soul in. “I know you do. You deserve to get what you want.”

“I can go fast. I want whatever you can give me.”

Spencer’s shuddering exhale is like a drug, dizzying as you inhale it and your eyes flutter at the high, pressed head-to-head with him. For so long you’ve needed him so badly. It’s overwhelming to have him now, all over you. If only your walls could breathe him in the way you are, if this room could remember what it feels like to hold him the way you will, if any inanimate object could bear witness to how you’ll give yourself, any part of yourself, over to him, so willingly.

“I’m going to try.” Spencer’s voice is hoarse as he walks backward to the bed, taking you by the hips as he goes. “I want to do it right. I want to do this the way I... the way I imagined it, before...”

Now he’s sitting, and you’re standing between his legs as he finds the clasp of your bra and undoes it, his fingers a comforting pressure where they ghost down the slope of your back. Your heart is pounding at the confession, at the way his tongue darts over his bottom lip and his fingertips journey back up to your straps, looking up at you with haloed irises as if he’d find anything other than the most dangerous kind of smoldering devotion in your eyes—the kind cult-leaders seek and spend years nurturing, and he’d earned with a mere brush over your bare skin.

The fabric slides down your arms, and as it falls to the floor, you watch something like despair flash-flood his eyes. It is a deep, distinctly human grief. The ineffable kind where something is almost too beautiful; so perfect it offends the mortal senses because it should be permanent, but nothing is, and the clash of divine beauty with unstoppable time which oxidizes copper and covers marble with vine is almost as grotesque as metal rending delicate flesh. It is the grief that drove the first poet to write and the first parents to press their baby’s painted hands to the walls of a cave. It is the desire to do the impossible—to capture ephemeral perfection and make it eternal, and the knowledge that it is hopeless. You recognize it because you’ve felt it for him.

“I thought about you all the time,” he whispers, doesn’t bother calling you beautiful but you don’t mind because he’s telling you with his hands and his eyes and the waver of his voice. “When I was gone, I thought about you—”

You’re just as quiet, just as soft.

“Don’t, Spencer.”

He doesn’t get to tell you about when he was gone. Not now. Not after he acted like you didn’t exist.

“Okay.” He swallows the things he’d wanted to tell you like you choked on the things you needed to tell him for three months. “I’m sorry.”

But his hands—his hands are perfect over your waist and his lips are perfect where they kiss your ribs like they’re his homeland. You could forgive a thousand wrongs for each kiss he puts to your skin. Light from the full moon stretches over the room like a blessing from the cosmos, and you have every intention of making the most of that gift, how the silver gilds the planes of his face and highlights curls like they were carved, and invites you to search for something in each shadow.

Some of his kisses land over the sensitive skin of your breasts though you doubt he has much intention or that there is any sort of end-goal with the trail he blazes—in fact, you have to root your hand in his hair and pull gently back when he doesn’t seem to realize that he’s making you wait again. His eyes are glassy and cheeks slightly pinkened—you weren’t expecting this wave of fondness to knock you on your ass but here you are, falling all over again.

“You don’t have to go that slow.”

A slow smile splits the heart of his mouth at your bashful tone and he’s emboldened to bring his hands higher for a moment, thumbs brushing particularly delicate though not downright indecent spots. Nonetheless, your breath catches.

“Impatient girl,” he scolds, and though it’s lighthearted it still inspires heat to dance across your face. Oh, I think I’ve been plenty patient, you itch to say, but you bite it back because it’s only sad and true and unkind.

Still, he gives you the beginning of what you want, really only the tip of the enormous iceberg that is your desire for him, by slipping his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down. His hands slide up the fronts of your thighs, tracing the trim of your underwear, and you’d swear he’s not even breathing. The moment one of his hand loops behind your knee and pulls forward until it’s pressed to the mattress and you’re half-kneeling, half standing, desire begins to truly cloud your mind. Manhandling never seemed like Spencer’s style, but when paired with how softly he reveals your hip, pulling gently down on the fabric of your underwear just to admire you up close, you don’t mind it.

More kisses are littered over your stomach, and he takes you by surprise a second time with a quick maneuver landing you on your back and him on top of you.

“I wasn’t doing you justice with my imagination,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I couldn’t have known.”

“Couldn’t have known what?” you pant as he shamelessly digs his fingers into the plush of your ass. You almost hope it bruises.

“How pretty you would be,” he coos like he means it, and you dissolve, slipping through his fingers like sand in an hourglass. “You were holding out on me.”

It’s a tease, not at all serious, but you manage to hit him with a, “Was not, asshole,” and he chuckles, placating your little hurt with another sticky kiss, and you get another disorienting glimpse of some other timeline where you’re both a little less damaged. Where it’s a little easier.

But in this timeline, his touch becomes starving and ragged and urgent, and you accept the drag of his thumb up your thigh and between your legs, gasping when he runs his knuckles up the center of you. This touch is metal on screeching metal. It does not pretend to be anything more than what it is—brute, powerful, executed to elicit sensation. You get the sense that Spencer’s never touched anyone this honestly, and while you do envy the girls who got to have him gentler, you’ll take this as the compliment that it is. A kind of vulnerability that is nearing primal.

His lips, though—always his lips—are kind when they brush and land on your skin guided by some invisible map. A dip down your neck and chest and then a plunge, his tongue dragging over your hips, chasing the fabric of your underwear as he almost pulls it off and then reroutes, making room for himself between your legs and pushing lace aside to mark the hinge of your inner and upper-most thigh. Your chest heaves and you don’t dare move for fear he’ll stop leaving signs of himself on your body and you won’t be able to reassure yourself that it was real and he was here and it was not another dream.

Because something in you knows, if only consciously recognizing it for the first time now, that he will disappear again. That this may be your only chance.

The desire to make the ephemeral eternal. An impossibility.

He’s clearly losing himself to something, eyes shutting blissfully. You wonder when the last time he let his guard down even a little was. You’re okay with being the thing he gets lost in, even if you’re not exactly okay with him—something you are becoming more acutely aware of as each touch makes a part of you want to cry. Maybe you still have some things in common. A strange pain that doesn’t quite feel like it belongs to you, for one thing.

You slam back into your body as his nose nudges against you through fabric, and his lips catch on cotton as he drags himself up, eventually settling a kiss against the little bow at the waist of your underwear. There he stays, eyes closed, mouth pressed to you.

“Is this okay?”

You swallow, buzzing. Is this really what he wants? After everything?

“You don’t have to...”

“But is it okay with you?”

Nothing more than an airy whisper, you reply, “Yes, if that’s what you want.”

Being emotional at this point seems wrong, but it’s difficult to ignore the fact that you have thought about this before and it’s finally happening but it’s not exactly as you’d imagined it. There is an indelible sadness to it, to the way he’s so hungry for you because he’s been deprived, to the desperation with which he touches you because he’s had everything taken from him.

For a moment, before he tugs your underwear down, he pauses, and you wonder if he’s freezing one moment in time, this moment, and grieving all the other ways it could’ve been, and accepting that this is the way it is going to be. You are.

These higher realms of thought abandon you as he finally pulls the last barrier down your legs and encourages you to spread them further. You don’t have time or energy to be embarrassed, not even by his staring, or the way his eyes dart up to yours and back down again, wide and shining, as if to say, have you seen yourself? Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

All you feel is the lack of him on you, the pull to have him closer so strong it’s almost sickening because he could be gone at any second. Maybe he understands that because he doesn’t waste anymore time before he’s kissing the most sensitive part of you. The drag of his tongue has you loosing a shuddering cry.

His mouth wanders, making connections you wouldn’t have realized the value of until you feel them on your skin. Your hips buck as he traces you and you’re unable to stop yourself from tangling your hands in his hair. Speech fails you—hell, you can hardly breathe as you watch his with a furrowed brow and parted lips, only expelling air from your lungs in the form of little cries and gasps and failing to hold your hips down to the bed.

The tip of his tongue teases around your entrance and he catches your leg as your foot rises off the bed, slinging it over his shoulder and consuming you more fervently until you have no choice but to moan though you’ve never been one for theatrics. Nobody has done this for you like he’s doing it for you. Locks of hair fall in front of his face and you hold them back for him, shuddering as he shifts his weight and presses the tip of his finger to your cunt.

“Ah—please,” you manage, your first words since he started. Spencer groans against you and the sound is so wonderfully unexpected, so much better than in your dreams. You cant your hips up in further invitation, chirping as he takes it, pushing two fingers into you at once. Your eyes screw shut and you bite back a whine at the slight stretch, unconsciously writhing your hips either to get further away or take him deeper, you’re not sure.

Spencer pulls back, kissing your hips and thighs and pumping his fingers very slowly as you adjust.

“’M sorry,” you pant, “it’s been awhile, I...”

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer says like it’s simple, his own breath coming quicker. “How’re you feeling? Need me to stop?”

“No! No, it feels really good, I feel good.”

He holds your burning gaze, matching it with his own, and his hair is tousled and his cheeks are flushed as he continues to move his hand.

“Yeah?”

“...Yeah.”

This little show of obedience, of call and response, has him smiling before he occupies his mouth with something else once more. It’s a different smile than you’re used to from him, but you decide you don’t at all mind it.

Like that, with his tongue and fingers working tirelessly, your orgasm comes on quickly. The feeling is rare but not entirely foreign, and in that brief moment of utter disconnect between your brain and reality, of sheer white-hot pleasure, you don’t feel you’re missing out on anything at all. How could you be, when you are here and Spencer is here and for a moment all your neurons are lighting up and flashing neon? How could there be anything more to life than the searing feeling of him slowly withdrawing his fingers from you, than your hips between his hands like he’s cradling the world, and his lips, indiscriminate with where they kiss because every part of you is worthy of attention?

You’re reeling, and your legs are gelatinous as he so affectionately sucks the darkest mark yet onto your inner thigh like a parting gift, like he’s signing his trembling work. If you could clamp your legs shut around the almost painful aftershocks you would, but he’s climbing back up your body, so all you can do is wriggle against him and release delayed, stunted little moans. He stops to kiss your neck before he makes it to your mouth and drinks down all your sounds until you’re gentle and pliant for him like you haven’t been yet.

His voice is soft and sympathetic when he speaks. “Better?”

Wordlessly you nod, both comforted and unsettled by how well he knows you. What, exactly, has been made better, you’re not sure. Not trust. You don’t trust him anymore. Something cheaper, but temporarily effective. A sense of permanence, maybe, however fleeting it may be. You’ve completed something with him now, and he’s still here, still sweet.

He looks into your eyes, then, for a moment—and there is just enough light in the room for you to tell yourself that the shadows dancing there as he looks at you are love.

They morph as you watch into haunting, wild hunger. Pained even now.

He sits up abruptly and so do you, scooting back against your headboard and pulling your knees to your chest to protect your pounding heart as Spencer takes you in with darting eyes and quick breaths. His fingers find the collar of his shirt and he begins to unbutton.

“I need you to remember it’s all going to heal.”

He swallows, and you hardly have the wherewithal to study the way he unbuttons his shirt, a way he exists in the world that you had previously not been privy to. The words are too distracting.

“What?”

Sometimes he reminds you of a deer, with those big brown eyes that can’t help betraying anxiety. Moreso in those old pictures he’d shown you from his early days at the BAU—but it shines through occasionally even now. It’s reassuring to know that something inside of his has remained soft.

“Just...” his fingers don’t stop at their task, and you come to the disturbing realization that his knuckles are bruised. “Please don’t freak out, alright?”

Your mouth goes dry, eyes glued to the lengthening span of revealed skin.

And before he even has his shirt fully undone, something isn’t right.

He’s like a Pollack of bruises—starbursts and watercolor blots of discoloration blooming over his side and stomach.

You’re glad the light is off for two reasons: one, being that you don’t think you could handle the bruising in all its glory, and two, you hope the look of horror painted on your face is at least partially obscured from Spencer.

But you can’t. You simply don’t have the gas in the tank to freak out, as he’d said—at least not externally. Those bruises shouldn’t be there, but 96 days is a long time to be gone.

You drag your eyes back to his—nervous, deeply insecure and mistrustful. A deer. Just like those pictures of a 24 year old Spencer in an FBI jacket that was too big for him.

It’s enough to have you scooting on your knees across the mattress to him. Those big eyes stay glued to you as you draw near, falling as you carefully push open his shirt, cautious not to bump any tender spots as it falls to the bed. A flash of white gauze wrapped around his forearm that makes your stomach flip. How? You want to ask. Why?

He doesn’t seem to know what you’re going to do, and neither do you, until you’re grabbing his hands, bruised knuckles and all, and just... holding them for a minute.

“I lost weight,” he says quietly, as if that’s the most shocking thing about his current appearance, though it is noticeable.

“You’re still pretty.”

He smiles at this—a true Spencer Reid smile. Flattened lips, eyes tinged silver with sadness, voice quiet and anxious and wavering.

“I didn’t have a lot to spare.”

A moment goes by.

“I’m not going to ask you about them,” you promise, though you care so much and you want to know but you already understand that he won’t want to tell you.

Another moment. It doesn't surprise you to watch the shiny vulnerability in his eyes to freeze over completely. But he squeezes your hands once in thanks, and you know it’s still the same Spencer.

“Lie down.”

Oh. Right.

This.

You do as he says, taking a deep breath to try and exhale the concern twisting your stomach like a poison. Somehow your room feels so unfamiliar, so new with him in it. Even the whorls on your ceiling look different as you study them, trying to time the pattern of your breathing with the pattern of the paint and plaster and not let the sound of Spencer further undressing quicken your heartrate too much.

Soon he’s coaxing your legs apart again, reverently, and kneeling between them, studying every part of you—lingering not on the parts you’d expect. He traces the scar on your knee with his thumb, follows a line down your thigh to the freckle on your hip. The scrutiny is unnerving and warms you everywhere. Perhaps he senses the microscopic clench of your thighs as you imagine pushing them together, if he weren’t in the way.

“You alright?” He asks, still stroking your hip. Tender again. It’s so hard to keep up.

“I...”

Suddenly your heart beat is a deafening echo in your own ears. The tide of your breathing is too powerful, too in and out and whooshing, leaving you always too empty or too full but never comfortable.

Maybe he’s changed, and he’s harder to know now, but he is the same Spencer. He is the Spencer you’d fallen in love with. The hard part is knowing that now you may never get a chance to tell him that. You don’t know if he’d be able to hear it.

There are things you can’t have with him anymore. Not now, at least. Maybe not ever. But you can have this. It will be different, but you’d rather him be different and here than the same and only in your memory.

You swallow.

“I’m good.”

Tangling your hand in his hair once more, you pull him down into a kiss. It’s hesitant, at first—maybe he can taste your thoughts, where they’d been balancing just on the tip of your tongue. But the uncertainty fades and he kisses you deeper, harder, in a way that is hard to keep up with. You like the messy overwhelm of his lips, teeth, tongue. That’s the only way he knows how to want you.

When you go to wrap your leg around his waist he catches it, running his hands over the soft plush of your thigh. The hard line of him presses against you like memory foam and you gasp and he breathes it in deeply as your brain short-circuits, as you realize this is really going to happen, that you’re going to have him like you’ve never had him before and in ways you’ve only imagined and immediately felt ashamed for.

“Spencer,” you whisper. He ducks to leave open-mouthed kisses along your neck and your eyes flutter shut, craning your neck but not losing sight of your objective as you reach down blindly. When you find what you’re looking for he freezes, groans against your neck at the same time as you breathe the tiniest whimper. Just in your hand he feels impossible, hot and imposing and hard. Your heart palpitates.

Without thinking, you angle your hips up and encourage him closer, until the tip of him is smearing through your folds, and you both go utterly silent like the breath had been stolen right from your lungs. The moment crystallizes, time around you hardening like preserved amber to keep you frozen there forever.

And then he rolls his hips, catching the underside of his cock on the crux of you, and then he does it again, and you choke out a moan and so does he, and it’s beyond perfect—it's nirvana, more than you could ever have conceived of, with his weight pressing you into the mattress, arms caging you in, his heavy breaths hot against your neck and vice versa as you twine together like serpents on a rod, your foot floating in the air as you widen your legs to make more room for him.

And you’re not even fucking yet.

“Oh my god,” you whine, just for him, barely audible under the heavy cloak of night, the thickened air in your bedroom and the sound of panting and fabric shifting. It’s like your heart is trying to reach through your chest to his own where they’re pressed together—that is how hard it’s beating.

Spencer only breathes a long, low curse and shifts so he can grasp himself. Your fingers drift down the shaft of him as he slots himself at your entrance, notching half an inch in and you hold your breath, and you brace yourself—and then he’s kissing you again, but gentler this time. Reassuring. You soften, you can’t not, releasing all your air in a soft gust through your nose, and then he’s pushing in.

Your lips part at the stretch as it fuzzes your mind, but he stays right there, nose pressed to your nose, lips ghosting over your own. He’s not going anywhere, you think, and you’re glad for it, when it burns ever so slightly, and the tiniest whine escapes your open mouth.

“Shh,” he soothes immediately, low and soft, only fractionally louder than you had been. “You’re okay.”

Spencer. Your Spencer.

For a moment, you’re living in that alternate universe. The kinder one. The flash of pain you feel then has nothing to do with the way he’s opening you up.

This is the closest you have ever been, and in some strange way, the furthest apart.

Together, fingers brushing, you guide him until he settles at not quite your deepest point. You can feel that he’s not giving you everything yet, but you’re okay with that, as you adjust to the full feeling. Spencer again senses your desire to close your legs against the deep intrusion, and gives you the best he can by encouraging you to wrap your legs around him.

“Good girl,” he whispers tenderly, nudging at your jaw with his nose and dragging kisses along the ridge of it. Your stomach flips at the moniker and your brain turns to warm sludge as your eyes flutter shut. It makes you feel all light-headed and you flutter around him. Spencer chuckles into the junction of your neck and shoulder and the vibrations send a chill down your arching spine. “I thought you might like that one.”

“Mhm.”

“Mhm. How are you? You okay?”

“’M ready.”

“You’re ready?” His tone is dripping sarcasm and faux-disbelief as he pulls back the slightest bit only to push right back in deeper, this time. Your toes curl, one thigh sliding higher up his waist as you cling to him.

“Fuck,” you manage, a pitiful, high pitched curse tossed to the wind. He echoes the sentiment.

“Oh, my god,” he groans, continuing with that slow pace, “you feel so good, angel.”

You grapple at his back, searching for purchase as your brow knits. “Faster.”

This inspires another breathy chuckle, but he obliges, and you cry out softly. It’s almost unreal, your head buried against his neck, drunk on his scent and the drag of him like a shock felt in the far reaches of your body, again and again.

There’s nothing you can say that will accurately demonstrate what you’re feeling, so you elect not to speak, to remain silent and try to get a grip on this cacophony of sensation and emotion. But it’s too much to be alone with. You feel you have to get it out, to seek understanding. You can’t do it alone.

“Spencer.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know...” the sentence trails off into a gentle keen. He moves to kiss you, speaking against your lips.

“You don’t know?”

Shyly you shake your head. Spencer sighs wistfully.

“Do you know how much I missed you?”

It’s like he can sense your need for comfort. For something grounding.

And while this topic was off-limits earlier—you're softer now. The stone walls that form your boundaries have been chipped away and lowered.

Spencer continues unprompted.

“I thought about you every day. Every night while I was falling asleep. You were always on my mind, angel girl.”

You whine. Whether it’s pleasure or distress is anyone’s guess—including your own.

“You were gone so long,” you whisper, eyes shut.

At this, Spencer slows again, and the tension that was building settles back to a simmer.

“I know. I wish I could—I wish I could change that. But I’m here, okay? I’m right here with you.”

Then he makes sure you feel every last inch, and it takes your breath away. If your thoughts were any more coherent, they’d be something along the lines of: but for how long? How long until you leave again?

“You’re here.”

You say it like a mantra, once out loud, and then again and again in your head, timed with every clash of your hips. With each repetition he becomes more real. Every little ache, every tingling, head-emptying brush against that most sensitive spot inside proves to you that he could not be any closer. This can’t be faked. It can’t be another dream to wake up in tears from.

“You’re here,” you gasp as it hits you, as it truly sinks in.

“I’m here,” he breathes.

There’s so much you want to say—three months of words you need him to hear, of things you need to talk to him about, things you need to yell at him for and things you can only say crying in his arms and things you can only say laughing or whispering or drunk or half-asleep—and in this moment you can’t manage any of it. Every word condenses into one drop of salt water, drifting away from your eye and down your cheek. Spencer doesn’t tell you to stop crying. He only kisses the tear away, and murmurs I’m here I’m here I’m here over and over again against your skin until he’s not even speaking it out loud anymore. But you feel it. With every brush of his lips, every breath, every movement, you feel it.

Soon he’s adjusting his angle, gradually picking up the pace but retaining that unforgiving depth, and your nails bite into the skin of his back as your jaw drops. Spencer hisses, pressing impossibly closer.

“I’m sorry!” you squeak.

“Do it again.”

“Wh—what?”

“Please,” he begs, low and hot against your jaw, just beneath your ear. “Do it again, honey.”

Honey.

You’d do anything for him if it meant he calls you that again.

When he shifts his weight to one arm and reaches down between your bodies to play with your aching clit in exactly the right way, you don’t really have a choice. You arch and moan wantonly enough to feel embarrassed as your nails scratch down his back. At the same time he’s making noises of his own, and you almost feel guilty for marking him up like this only you think he likes it. The most perfect and troubling tension is building in your core, so taut you almost fear the inevitable rebound when it snaps. But you’re driven to be exactly what Spencer needs right now, and to let him try and be what you need. Even if it scares you. Even if you’re not sure how.

Spencer groans, head tucked to the bend of your shoulder. “I’m not gonna last.”

Any response you might’ve been about to muster is annihilated by a sudden, deep bolt of pleasure.

“’M gonna cum,” you mewl like it’s a secret.

“Are you?” he asks, coming up breathless. If your eyes were open, you’re sure you’d see him above you.

“Mhm.”

“Look at me. Look at me.”

It is unmistakably a command—one you fight to follow.

You cry out as you meet the intensity of his gaze, those shadowy corridors suddenly ablaze and alive. They are not unending, like you’d thought. They are a door thrown open to let the light in, or maybe to let the fire out. They’re open in this moment for you.

No more words are spoken after that—you cum hard, gasping as you fall and spin. Spencer follows very shortly after, like he was holding it together just for you, and your eyes are still locked though everything is a bit bleary.

“Fuck,” you whine as he continues to fuck you for as long as he can, despite your writhing hips, but you’re entranced by him, unable to look away now that you’re hooked. Until he slows to a halt, glances down at your mouth, and you just have time to pray that he’ll kiss you before he does. You whimper against his lips—a plea for understanding. A plea for him to stay, even though this is over. He kisses back so soft and sweet it’s like he can read your mind. Echoes of I’m here I’m here I’m here still buzz across your skin. His eyelashes tickle your cheek. Your heart stops beating quite so quickly, melting and warm like the rest of your body.

Soon the kissing ceases and you’re just breathing together, trapped and faced with the knowledge that it must end just the same as you had waited for it to start.

Eventually the air between you becomes mostly carbon dioxide and you let your head fall to the side, dizzy and giggling breathlessly as you nearly avoid asphyxiation. Spencer laughs too, letting his head fall to your shoulder once more, and you finally let your eyes flutter closed. To do something as simple as laugh with him again is its own small euphoria. It’s unexpected, and a soft landing once all that tension breaks underneath your combined weight.

It can’t last forever, you know that well. But the slow fade of it makes the next parts a little easier.

Spencer presses a kiss to your neck. “Is your bathroom through that door?”

You hum a confirmation and are only slightly disheartened when he pulls out and rolls off of you. You’re further disturbed when you see there’s gauze around his thigh, matching what’s around his arm, and you wonder how you missed that. Spencer scoops up his clothing and disappears into the adjoining restroom, assuring you he’ll be right back and leaving you alone with your thoughts and the whorls on the ceiling which have seemingly shifted into entirely new constellations.

He leaves the door cracked which is oddly reassuring—the sliver of warm light and the sound of the sink running. Only a few moments pass before he’s returning clad in boxers once more to sit on the edge of the bed, pushing away the sheet you’d just pulled over your chest and pulling one of your legs over his lap. Your face warms as he brings a washcloth between your thighs. As soon as he glances up at you and catches your eye you’re looking back to the ceiling.

“I should’ve asked first,” he says quietly as he cleans up the mess he’d made of you.

You speak just as softly, like you’re both afraid of disturbing some peace, of waking some sleeping giant. “It’s okay. I would’ve told you if I didn’t want it.”

His reticence, his unreadable face, make you nervous.

When he’s done, he rises to toss the dirtied cloth in the laundry bin, and with his back to you (as scratched up as it might be) you feel braver.

“Are you gonna, like... hate me now?”

It was a mistake. That’s clear by the way he turns around, brow knit deeply and grimacing slightly like even the suggestion offends him.

“Am I going to hate you?”

Again you pull the sheet up, and again you look away, studying the pattern of moonlight stretching out over the floor and scooting to make room for him when he steps in it.

“Not hate, I just...” the bed dips beside you and you are indescribably glad he’s not immediately running out the door. “I’m not dumb. I know what this was.”

He pulls you into him and you settle against his chest. It feels good. “I never thought you were dumb.”

This is your first real conversation since he’s gotten back, you realize. And how quickly you’re falling into familiar patterns, familiar syntactical beats. You know when to speak. You know when to bite your tongue and keep him talking.

The silence goes on longer than you’re used to. Maybe he got good at not speaking while he was away.

Eventually your eyes wander, falling to the white strip over his thigh where it is parallel to yours on the bed, only over the sheets.

“What happened?”

You said you wouldn’t ask, but that was then, and you’re upset again. You almost want to hurt him. To piss him off. You don’t know.

But it doesn’t work.

“Do you really want to know?” There’s a note of something heavy in his voice, and you look up at him. It’s a privilege to have him this close—his beauty is a constant surprise that you’d become unaccustomed to over the months. You say nothing, and he takes that as the yes that it is. “I... I did it to myself.”

He may as well have reached down your throat and grabbed for fucking heart for all its clenching. Tears well almost immediately, though they’ve been waiting in the wings all night.

“What? Did you—were you trying to—”

His eyes widen.

“No! No, honey, no.” You wilt as he gathers you closer, a deeply confused frown still contorting your features, too heartbroken even to cling to him, or to appreciate the ease with which honey slips past his lips again. “No. I was—it's complicated. I didn’t—I wasn’t trying to hurt myself, but I had to—I had to do it before someone else did something worse.”

The bruises covering his abdomen.

You sniffle and pull back enough to look up at him tearfully. “Why would they want to hurt you?”

Mist fills his eyes even as he’s looking down at you, a layer of separation, as if he’s two places at once. Even as he goes to brush your hair behind your ear, to stroke your cheek.

“I’m... not... the same, as I was.” It’s not an answer to your question—but it’s the beginning of the answer to a question you’d been too afraid to put into words.

“Don’t say that,” you beg, because you know where this is going. He keeps smoothing your hair like it’ll make this easier.

“But it’s true,” Spencer says gently, the slightest waver betraying his own emotion.

“You’re just going to leave again.”

And you’re losing to the tears.

“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“But you will,” you insist, like a child crying to a parent come to comfort them after a bad dream.

“Not right now. Right now I’m here.”

I’ll stay until you fall asleep again.

For now, maybe that has to be enough.

You cry on his shoulder. He kisses your head and doesn’t tell you to stop.

Eventually, you sniff and wipe your eyes.

“We were so close. Before you… we were almost there.”

You’re sure of it. You’re sure that if he hadn’t gone when he did you would’ve been a real couple. You would’ve told him you loved him.

“We’ll get there again,” he promises, rubbing your arm. “I just… I need a little bit of time. I think you do too. But we’re going to get there again.”

Maybe it will never be like it was.

But as so often is the case—Spencer is right. Difference doesn’t mean it won’t ever be good again.

You have to believe that, just as you had to believe you’d see him again.

You look to The Odyssey on your bedside table.

The sun has been obliterated from the sky, and an unlucky darkness invades the world.

But the sun has a habit of rising, time and time again, after the longest nights, after the darkest storms.

You feel the beginnings of its rise, see the golden tips of it lighting the room as he holds you. Even now.

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x you #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid angst

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dollfacefantasy · 7 months ago

Note

hi! i just finished reading your most recent fic, (amazing btw 💕) and keep reflecting on the part where leon calls reader a little disappointing.. so i was wondering if you could write some angst with DI leon where he’s quite mean and degrading and saying how he’s disappointed and stuff with reader, yk! then leon lovingly fucks reader after as a way to say sorry? (daddy kink included) thank you <3

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon goes a little too hard on you one night during sex. upon realizing how much it hurt you, he knows he has to make it up somehow.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, daddy kink, praise/degradation, age gap (20s, early forties), mentions of spanking & not using safeword

word count: 5.2k

a/n: part 1 <3 took me a while to figure out how i wanted to do this but i hope you guys enjoy.

Something isn't right.

That's all you could think while watching Leon idly stir pasta sauce at the stove. You were perched nearby at the counter, observing him as if he was under experimentation. While to anyone else his actions would appear completely mundane, you knew that this gesture was only the first step in something larger.

He never cooked you dinner. In the year and six weeks you'd been with him, he'd only ever made you a real meal twice before. Once being six weeks ago on your anniversary, and the other about four months before that, a couple days after you had a fight that nearly blew the wheels off your relationship.

In each case, there was a reason behind it. Whether to celebrate or make amends, neither was an innocuous decision made at random. You weren't even sure that Leon possessed the ability to be spontaneous, but that was a separate issue for another time. The obvious meaning behind his actions was the cause of the splashing of the noodles being poured into the boiling water making your stomach turn.

Because today wasn't anything special. There wasn't a birthday or an achievement to make an occasion of. That meant it was the other option, the makeup option, and you were extra sure of this because the two of you hadn't exactly been the perfect picture of being in love lately.

"Honey, could you put these on the table for me?" he asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

He looks at you over his shoulder to make sure you see the plates and silverware he's referring to.

"Yeah, sure," you respond.

You hop off the stool you were sitting on and grab the things he wanted you to. This was even worse. He wasn't going to let you eat in peace at the counter like you did when he wasn't here. No, he was going to stare you down across the dining table.

But you still do what he asks. Sighing, you haphazardly put a plate down on both ends of the table with silverware bordering each side to match. You grab glasses next and put them there too. Once everything is in its perfect place, you plop down at your seat, deciding to wait here until he joins you. This chair was out of view from the kitchen which meant you could get a few moments alone to brace yourself.

It's not that anything terrible was going to happen. It was just going to be a conversation. But it would be a relationship conversation, an emotional conversation, something neither of you were good at.

You weren't good at it because you'd never been good at it. Ever since you were a kid, the slightest spotlight put on your feelings had barbs forming in your throat and stinging, salty tears brimming your lash line. Everything had to be coaxed out of you, or you were sure to break down.

Leon wasn't good at it because his version of a conversation came across more as an interrogation. When talking about feelings, he never wanted to talk about his own. He'd never share what was going on in his own head, he only wanted to know what was going on in yours. You were the one struggling; therefore, you were the one he needed to help. You were the mission to be resolved.

You supposed that was consistent with everything else about the man you loved. He always wanted to be the one in control, the one managing the details of your life. It came from the desire to protect. He showed his love by keeping you safe, keeping you from being like him. He went away for weeks on end following orders. When he came home, he liked to be the one doling them out.

And that was how you liked it too. You weren't some unwilling victim. When he offered to try this stuff out with you, you couldn't have been happier. You liked being told to do this and do it now. You liked the security of his lap, the promise that no matter how bad things got he would be there to wipe away your tears and make it all better.

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. You were pretty sure you knew what the specific topic of conversation would be tonight. You'd been distant lately. You could already hear his voice ringing through your head telling you that. For the past couple weeks, you hadn't been you. You hadn't been as sweet on him, kissing his cheeks and stroking his hair while you cuddled. Hadn't been hanging off his body or climbing all over him every chance you got. Hadn't been as eager to squeal daddy when he made you cum.

You knew why, and you knew he didn't. That was by design though. You didn't want him to know. This whole situation had spiraled so far out of control, and you just wanted to sweep your mess under the rug and forget about it. You didn't need daddy's help cleaning it up.

It shouldn't even be that big of a deal. Nothing that bad had happened.

The night that had your panties in a bunch happened a few weeks ago. You'd had a shitty day and so had Leon. You were looking to act out, and he was looking to punish.

You gave him some attitude. A few eye rolls and sharp responses when he asked you things. Looking back, you think maybe you should've sensed he was in a bad mood and just dropped it. That's when the other part of you chimes in and wonders why he couldn't do the same for you. Why couldn't he feel out your emotions and realize you needed him? But then you start to feel emotionally stunted, expecting your boyfriend to be a mind reader.

This internal conversation never gets very far.

That night he hadn't read your mind. He'd taken you over his lap and given you a spanking. It was pretty standard. You'd had over a dozen of those by his hand at this point. The slaps weren't the problem. His palm hit you all the same, bringing the sting you craved. The part that stuck with you and created this wedge was just him. It was how he spoke, the way he looked at you.

You could still see the eyes you fell in love with looking at you with nothing but disappointment.

You could still hear him growling in your ear when he had you bent in half and fucked you afterwards. He had you face down on the couch, holding your head against the cushion while he jackhammered into you.

"If you want my attention, all you have to do is ask. You know that. But you never fucking do it. You play these games with me. You think I wanna put up with that? You think I come home and wanna hear you bitching at me too?"

You weren't even sure what about it had got you. It was harsh, sure, but it was supposed to be.

"I want you to be a good girl. To behave. I don't want to deal with a bratty little slut."

He'd said stuff like that before. But in that moment it didn't feel like daddy was mad at you, it felt like your boyfriend was. It didn't feel like you were naughty or misbehaving. It felt like you were pathetic.

"You want daddy's attention so bad, next time you say please like you're supposed to. Don't make me go through the chore of disciplining your ass again. I'm over it."

By some miracle you still got to cum. He came inside you like normal. When he pulled out he'd fallen back onto the cushions of the couch to catch his breath. He lied there, fingers wiping the sweat from his brow as if he'd put in a hard day's work. You sat there unsure of what to do with yourself. After he'd come down a little more, he'd pulled you close, kissed all over your face like normal and taken to you to bed. But you'd laid there with your eyes open, trying not to cry as he snored against the back of your neck.

You're snapped out of your memories by the thud of the pot on the dining room table. Leon stood a few feet away from you, oven mitts on both hands as he placed the dish between your seats. He cracks a smile at you when you look up and meet his eyes.

"I made way too much. I hope you're hungry," he teases.

You respond with a weak grin of your own. Sitting up straight in your chair, you blink a few times and rub your face as if that'd be enough to clear away the past and magically fix everything.

Two of his fingers duck below your chin and guide you to look at him again.

"You ok?" he asks. His voice is tender like it is most of the time when he speaks to you.

"Yeah. I'm just tired," you tell him with a more convincing smile. You're not sure if it works, but he seems to accept it for now.

"Alright," he says, leaning down and kissing the corner of your mouth.

He takes his seat across the table, opposite yours. You get the privilege of serving your portion first. You shovel a helping of pasta onto your plate. The red sauce spreads on your plate, and you grab a piece of toast to soak some of it up. Leon repeats your actions and gets some of the food for himself. He had made too much. You'd definitely have leftovers, but that was nothing to complain about. He made dinner before these conversations for a reason. Like anything else, he was a good cook when he wanted to be.

The meal starts off silent as you had expected it to. You both eat instead of trying to talk. Forks hitting plates and bread crunching into two fills the room in the place of words. A sense of calm comes over you, but you know it won't last forever. Eventually, Leon does break the silence with some basic questions. How was your day, wasn't this summer heat killer, did you see he fixed that thing in the garage you'd asked him to. It's fine. Just fine like everything had been for the past couple weeks.

The conversation reaches another lull though, and this is when he goes for the killing strike.

"Baby, I think we need to talk," he sighs.

You raise your eyebrows as if you hadn't been expecting this.

"About what?" you ask after swallowing your mouthful of pasta.

Now he raises his eyebrows. He's not disappointed, but he knows you're playing dumb and doesn't appreciate it. It's affectionate though. It doesn't look like it did a few weeks ago.

"I know something's bothering you," he tries softly.

"I told you I was tired," you shrug and look away.

"It's not just today though. It's been more than a few days," he says.

You sigh and put your fork down. You're conscious of every part of your reaction in an effort to avoid looking pouty or melting into tears.

"I don't know. The past few weeks I just haven't felt great. It's not like a crisis situation or something," you say.

"Then tell me about it, sweetheart," he says, trying to will you to look up at him with his gentle tone, "I want to help, but I don't know what's wrong. Every time I try, you pull away."

"Not on purpose," you add. It's an important defense to you.

"I'm not saying it's on purpose," he says. You can tell he's trying to be as non-confrontational as possible. Maybe he does pick up on your emotions a little bit. "All I'm saying is that I'm worried about you."

And with one little sentence, you feel the spikes starting to poke through. You look down and place your palm on your eyes. You felt ten times more pathetic than you had a few weeks ago. He can see you're getting closer to breaking, so he continues.

"You can talk to me. If you need something or I did something, I just want to make it better," he continues, "I don't like not knowing what's going on in that pretty head. I like it even less seeing you look so sad."

Your lip wobbles. A last resort to hold in the barrage of emotions. "It's nothing," you choke out.

"It's not nothing if it has you this upset," he counters, speaking quietly, "Just talk to me, little love."

That's all it takes, and you can't hold it anymore. Tears leak from your water line and draw limpid streaks down your face. You bite your lip to nip any audible cries in the bud. It doesn't matter though, he still sees the small droplets of water.

"My baby," he coos, "C'mere."

You rise to your feet in an instant and round the table. He pushes his chair back and takes you into his lap. You're cradled by his warmth, safe against his chest as he rubs your back. As much as you loved mentally complaining about his interrogations, maybe this is what you needed. Maybe this worked for you.

"You're ok. I'm right here," he murmurs.

He kisses your hairline and cups the back of your neck to keep you close. He lets you cry it out before attempting any more questions. Once it seems you've settled though, the spotlight is back on you.

"What's wrong, sunshine?" he whispers.

Try as he might, you still couldn't bring yourself to say the words. It was like two wires in your brain that just did not physically connect. Expressing pain was hard enough, but expressing pain that he caused? This inability killed you, it really did. Thinking about it brings another sob from your lips. You wanted to beat your own ass till she had enough of a spine to just say a few simple words so this could all be over.

You can't do that though, so Leon continues on with his tender questions.

"Can you tell me when you started feeling this way?" he asks with a hint of hesitation.

There that was one you could answer. "Few weeks ago."

He nods, taking any information he could get as crucial.

"Alright... is there something stressing you out?" he asks.

You shake your head. Technically there was something stressing you out, but while you were breaking down, 'stressing out' was code for responsibilities, so the answer is no.

"Problems with your friends?"

Another head shake.

"Family?"

No.

"...Me?"

You almost shake your head again. You could swing just making something up on the spot. But that wouldn't be right to him. He'd done the work of the guessing game and come to the conclusion fair and square. You nod yes.

A whirlpool of emotion forms in his pupils, but it's almost like he knew he was to blame. He nods and sighs. His hand doesn't stop rubbing your back.

"Ok," he breathes, "You gotta give me a hint, honey."

You found words coming a bit easier now that he had led you this far.

"Remember a few weeks ago when you got mad at me?" you rasp and look at him with your watery eyes.

He blinks at you. "We got into a fight a few weeks ago?" he asks.

There's genuine confusion in his tone. He didn't remember. Or at least this day didn't stick out in his mind. He hadn't been dwelling on it since it happened, hadn't been wondering if it meant something greater in the context of your relationship. You weren't sure if that brought you relief or frustration.

"No. It was like... it was when I had a bad day and I came home and you were watching that stupid cop show. And I kept talking. And you told me to shut up. And I said you were only watching it cause you didn't know how to change the channel," you list off some of the events that led to the infamous incident.

He smiles upon remembering that little joke. He found it funny. Then why did he get so mean?

"Don't tell me you've been mad cause I wouldn't let you watch your show instead," he teases.

"No, it's not that. Remember after when you spanked me? And then we fucked on the couch..." you sniffle.

He pauses to think about your words. The gears turn in his head, the pieces fall into place. The lightbulb goes off in his eyes.

"Oh yeah. I remember that," he says. He remembers, but he doesn't understand. "What about it?"

His thumb swipes a few tears away while waiting for the answer you were still trying to formulate.

"Well... like... I don't know," you start. You felt ridiculous verbalizing it. "You just kinda hurt my feelings."

His brows furrow. He still doesn't get it.

"Hurt your feelings?" he repeats, "I didn't hit you too hard, did I? You know if that ever happens you have the word. You say it, and I stop for you in a heartbeat. You know that."

"It didn't hurt like that... it's just some of the stuff you said," you say. The urge to pull away is starting to come back.

"Sweetheart," he says. His voice is dripping with concern. He didn't remember saying anything bad enough that you'd still be twisted into knots over it multiple weeks later. "You know you can use the word for that kind of thing too. Please tell me you know that."

"I know that," you start, feeling a little ashamed. This was exactly why you didn't want to talk about this.

"If I say something that hurts you this bad, you need to tell me. Right when I say it. You tell me to stop. You let me remind you it's not real," he says, quiet but firm. He holds you tighter, unintentionally squeezing more tears out of you. "I only say things I think will get you off. I don't say them to hurt you."

You hide your face in his neck. You felt so fucking pathetic.

"Hey, hey, hey. Shhh. It's ok. I just... I want you to understand, baby," he murmurs. He rocks you back and forth on his lap a bit before speaking again. "Can you tell me why you didn't use the word?"

Leon prayed with everything he had that it wasn't because you were scared of him. If that was it, you might as well pick up the fork off the table and jam it right into his heart. You don't answer, and it worries him. All he gets from you is the feeling of tears dribbling down his throat.

"Did it not hurt till afterwards? Did you think I wouldn't stop?" he coaxes.

You shake your head. "Cause... because I don't want you to think I can't take it," you weep.

While he's relieved it's not what he feared, he didn't expect this.

"What do you mean? You can't take it?" he repeats.

"I don't want you to think I'm a bratty little girl. I told you that stuff was ok, and I don't wanna tap out and make you feel all guilty and stuff," you cry, the words rushing from your mouth.

He sighs and his eyes close for a second. He did feel like a piece of shit now, but with what you just said, he didn't want you knowing that.

"My sweet girl," he says against your head while rubbing your back, "I would never think that about you. The word is there for you to use it whenever you want. It doesn't matter if it makes me worry I hurt you. That's not a bad thing."

You cry more into his neck, clinging to him as if you're trying to merge into one.

"I just don't wanna disappoint you," you sob.

"Baby, baby, baby," he whispers, holding you tight against his chest and rocking you again, "You never disappoint me. You don't. Not when you act bratty, not when you break a rule. That shit is all a game. It's a game, and if you don't like it, we don't have to play it.

"I know you're sensitive. I know you get emotional. I'm with you knowing that stuff. It doesn't make me think of you as an obligation. I like being daddy, but it doesn't make me think of you like that. If it makes you feel like that, we can stop. You're more important than any of it."

"I do like it," you weep, "I just... I don't want you to think I'm pathetic."

"I don't think that. I never have," he says and kisses your temple, "You're my baby. My pretty girl. My favorite person on this planet."

You sniffle and snake your arms around him tighter.

"Pathetic or disappointment never cross my mind when I look at you. Half the time I don't even have thoughts when I see you. You're so fucking gorgeous you take 'em all away," he whispers.

He nudges your head out of the crook of his neck so he can see you. His lips land on your forehead first. Then your nose. Then each cheek. And finally your lips.

"Look at me," he whispers.

You do what he asks and look up at him. You look into his eyes. These were the eyes you fell in love with.

"You are not a disappointment," he says before a kiss, "You are not pathetic. I love you. I love you when you're being good or when you're being a little shit. I love when you wanna call me daddy, but you'd still be mine if you decided you never wanted to say that word again."

"I still wanna call you daddy," you sniffle and give him a small smile.

He chuckles and returns the expression. "That was a quick decision," he teases, "Doesn't sound like you thought it through."

"I did. I still want my daddy," you say and put your head down on his shoulder.

"Good. Cause I'm right here," he says softly, "Daddy's got you."

The problem wasn't totally resolved in Leon's mind. Never again did he want to cause you weeks worth of stress over something like this. But for now, he was happy to see you smile. He could accept this temporary fix. He nuzzles your neck and places a few soft kisses on your throat.

"I think daddy needs to make it up to his baby for being so mean to her. For making her cry like that," he whispers.

A warm tingle branches out through your spine and curves around your ribs. You scoot closer to him in his lap and shrug, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Don't give me that shrug. You know you like being spoiled. Being the center of attention," he whispers.

"Yeah..." you whisper in his ear.

He grunts as he rises to his feet with you in his arms. Your legs lock around his waist before his feet even start moving. He'd clean up the table later. Right now was about you.

He carries you through the house, tosses you onto the bed. You squeak at your glide through the air. He pulls his shirt off and drops his pants before climbing on top of you. Always efficient your Leon.

The warm lengths of his muscular limbs encompass you against the mattress. He starts by kissing you on the mouth, but his lips soon trail down to your neck. Tongue and teeth brush over the balmy skin of your neck. He nips a few hickeys along the curve of your throat, listening for every little hitch in your breath or stifled moan.

"Always with those pretty little noises..." he mumbles against your skin.

He inhales you before moving away, gets his fix of your scent before his hands push your shirt over your head and toss to the floor with his. His hands rub up and down your side, gently squeezing and massaging while his mouth migrates towards your chest. He lays kisses at the tops of your breasts. He can feel your heart pattering against his lips. It drives him crazy, feeling what he does to you down to that level.

Your legs wrap around his waist and pull his body closer. You couldn't get close enough after the weeks of distance. He groans as his crotch comes flush against yours. It's as if he can feel the heat of your center through the layers of cloth that separate you.

He kisses between your breasts, forcing himself to remove your bra before he thinks about your pants. He nuzzles the two spheres of flesh with all the care he holds in his body. He'd never been good with words, and the last few weeks proved as much. Showing you physically how he feels is easier.

"Haven't been able to kiss my girls properly in too long," he murmurs and glances up at you, cocky smile in his eyes.

"You're stupid," you laugh quietly.

"Hey. That's not a nice word, princess. Not one you should be calling your daddy," he chides before giving one of your nipples a few sucks.

You sigh contently and arch into the wet embrace of his mouth. "Sorry daddy," you smile.

"I'm sure you are."

He gives your tits some more attention, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't antsy to get his fingers wet. They fumble with the button on your shorts before he lifts your legs and practically tears the garment loose. He kisses your ankle and down your calf to your knee where his hands take over and press them up against your torso. He can feel your slick creating a wet patch on the front of his boxers and ruts into it. His cock grows stiffer beneath the fabric as if trying to get to you.

"You ready for me, babydoll? Dripping like a good girl? Gonna be nice and easy for daddy to slide right in," he says while leaning down to be close to you.

You nod eagerly, your nose bumping against his.

"Nothing makes it better than having daddy inside, hm?" he coos.

"Don't need anything else," you say and sling your arms around his neck.

That's all he needs to hear. He pushes his underwear down his legs enough so that his cock is free. You feel it slot between your puffy outer folds and prod at your entrance.

He slips it inside, and you both groan. Your head tilts back, allowing him to kiss at your neck some more. You'd had sex since that fight, but this was the first time you were feeling full. The first time you were feeling like his again.

"Daddy," you whine and grab at him. Just what he'd been missing.

His hips start to rock. The bones in his pelvis press right up against your ass. He fucks you deep and slow at first. Each thrust glides over a myriad of sweet spots. Every time he pulls back, you just want him to push right back in.

"That's it, honey. Tell daddy how much you missed him," he grunts.

You don't say it with words. You tighten up around him, squeezing his dick like if it gets out you'll die. The sensation wrangles a moan out of him, and his face drops into your neck. He digs his forearms into the mattress and uses the leverage to pump himself into you harder.

"My perfect, perfect girl. Don't know what I'd do without you," he whispers.

Your eyes flutter shut. You just listen to the sound of his panting, feel his heart beating for you. Your thighs tremble while pressing into his waist. Your toes curl as his hips strike the right angle to batter right where you need him.

"You could never disappoint me," he mutters. You feel his lips moving against your throat. "I love you, sweet girl. Nothing you do could ever change that."

The words are almost enough to make you get all weepy again, but you'd cried enough for one day. Instead your body latches onto him tighter.

"Harder," you whimper.

"You sure, baby?" he hums.

Your nod comes quickly. "Need to feel it more. Need it harder."

So he gives it to you harder. His eyes clamp shut and shroud his vision in darkness. He focuses on thrusting hard, clapping his skin against yours over and over. He pounds into you while pressing his face harder against you too.

You show your gratitude with a whine. His shaft hits just right, fills you up just the way you'd been aching for.

"Almost there, daddy- Can I-" you stumble over words.

"Yeah, sweetheart. You don't gotta ask tonight. You cum when you're ready," he says.

That's how you know he's really sorry. He keeps fucking into you until he feels your limbs fizzling from the proximity to release. Everything about you gets shaky. Your breaths are ragged and labored, your hands vibrate while trying to clutch at him.

"Fuck fuck fuck," you whimper.

The spark goes off inside you, and you cum hard. Your body goes taut and rolls through the waves of euphoria. He can't resist your walls pulsating around him. It's only a handful of seconds before his tummy is fluttering and his seed is spilling from him into your cunt.

"Inside, daddy," you whine as if he needed the direction.

"That's what I'm doing, baby," he grunts through clenched teeth.

He drools against your neck while his hips twitch and the last few drops leak from him. The saliva gets smeared in the messy kisses he leaves on you while pulling out. He rolls over but scoops you up with him, cradling you against his chest in a position that isn't necessarily comfortable but you love anyway.

A series of over the top kisses land on your face. You scrunch your nose and shake your head.

"Quit it. I already forgave you," you giggle, "You don't gotta slobber on me."

"Tsk tsk. Ungrateful," he tuts affectionately, "You know if I didn't give you these, you'd be begging for 'em."

"Mmm... maybe," you acquiesce with a little smile.

"Sure, sure. Maybe. Silly girl," he mumbles and nuzzles your cheek.

The playful touches continues for a moment before he calms down and softens up. You look towards his eyes, and his fingers sweep down your cheek.

"You're ok now?" he asks.

You nod. "We're ok now."

To give him the final shred of reassurance that you could, you stick out your pinky. He rolls his eyes, but sticks his out to and hooks it with yours. He knew you were back to yourself since your inability to be serious had made a reappearance. He smacks a kiss on your lips to seal the deal. He can feel you smiling into it.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil smut #ch: leon kennedy 💌

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huggywuggysuppy · 23 days ago

Note

once you finish Empires S1 i'd like to hear your thoughts about esmp1!gem. she's genuinely one of my favorite characters to analyse because she is so nuanced and interesting in so many ways anywhere you look at her. her twisted determination to achieve peace at ANY cost, her rigid thinking and neurodivergency, her relation with symbols like her tower or the end and the moon, or her genuine wish to be a good person and so many other things. there's so much that is impossible to grasp at first (<- <- me, lesbian who is really normal about her favorite gem)

She's right.

Essentially, Gem understands the role a wizard PLAYS in a story. She's never the cause of something, but she sure amplifies both the problems and the solutions. She's morally gray, she's playing both sides, but nobody ever challenges her on that because of course Gem's helping the heroes too -- they need artifacts! She's a plot device, a questgiver, a weapon. She's the voice of reason, the straight man in any comedy duo, yet makes the same questionable decisions as anyone. She's experimenting, she's out of her comfort zone, she's having the time of her life. Wizard Gem is, ultimately, a real wizard.

That's the short answer anyhow. Longer analysis, well, I'm so glad you asked. I can't talk about character without diving into the content creator metanarrative (feature not a bug) so let's get into the noodles! What about Wizard Gem makes her so fantastic?

Wizard Gem is a catalyst.

From the beginning, Gem is mixing up dynamics and forcing new inspiration by opposing what's static. The way the rest of the Wither Rose Alliance sort of? Molds? Around her. How Sausage and fWhip are beefing until the day she alliances with Pearl and suddenly the four are besties. How she adds moral nuance to the villain side, both by mixing relations with the hero side, and just by insisting the Wither Rose are seeking peace, really, they're trying their best! This stops things from being so cut and dry and basic. Instead of Xornoth's vain forces against the heroic bumbling fish people (with the plant and animal empires in between), there's all sorts of messiness and drama. And Gem's aware of this, of how she's changing things, and so the effect is amplified.

On a CC level, even her origins are experimental. Gem was originally planning a more naturey plant wizard, but since Shubble, Katherine, AND Pearl, were plant based (& arguably Joey too) she adapted into amethyst and rocks. And it turned out amazing! That foundation of experimenting made it easier to take larger risks both content and character wise. All the empires folk enjoyed the lore centric storytelling: only getting deeper into it through the season, but Gem especially paved the way for embracing rp and outfits and items and fun.

But back to C! As the Wither Rose alliance progresses, terrorizing the server included, Gem maintains her peace loving stance. Taking on the role as fWhip's (and later Sausage)'s PR managers is genuinely so important to me. She never really stops them from doing bad things, but she's always discouraging them and talking them down one or two degrees. Ultimately loyal to her alliance, she's also taking responsibility for the consequences. Helping out Jimmy behind the scenes to lessen the blow, both for him but also herself.

At her core, Wizard Gem wants peace.

For herself and friends at least. Unfortunately, the Crystal Cliffs aren't in a bubble, so she keeps having to save the world anyway. She dreads conflict at best and fears it at worst. Her concerns are her kingdom, her neighbors, whatever magic / building she's invested in right now, and maybe a light shenanigan here or there. She'll help fWhip get out of trouble because they really do love each other, he's always helping her out too in his own ways (ex: making her stuff,) and she'll protect the realm so the problems stay far away from their doorsteps. When things do eventually fall into her lap, she definitely deals with them. Just... not 100%. Enough that they stop breaking the peace for now.

Let's be honest, Wizard Gem is firmly in denial. She's down for burying the corruption and letting it claim whole towers of her base. Often she'll just accept whatever another player brings to her: buying Scott and Katherines plush, whatever weird scams Lizzie tries on her, etc. When Scott gives her the Elsa curse, she hangs out in the nether, takes Shrub’s dodgy Xornoth cure, and stubbornly "it's fine"-s her way through avoiding a real solution until fWhip drags her to Katherine. It's telling that her (short-lived) corrupted evil version is more confident, while others become hyper or angry. This isn't laziness: it's fear. She doesn't want to step on any toes and start any conflicts. You can see it in how she talks to Jimmy and fWhip: giving them what they need not to win, but to end things.

This is how Gem maintains the story role of a wizard: she's always trying to stop things, so she's never starting new things, only making them better or worse. But how does Gem get away with it? She's simultaneously one of the most invested players in the lore, yet playing a character who'd rather be anywhere else. That dichotomy is entertaining, sure, but there's something else here.

Wizard Gem is loyal, curious, and moral. Just... not obviously.

Gem is unfathomably loyal. While she plays both sides, she's always standing alongside her allies in battle and all her actions are ensuring they're safe. She may be exasperated, yet treats her immediate alliance members with kindness. How fWhip drags her into things, but he never asks her to, it's always Gem CHOOSING to follow him because what else is she gonna do? Let him do it himself? How Sausage makes her laugh with his absurdity, even when they're fighting. How she's always a little uncomfortable, even in her great empire, except in the quiet simple moments with her allies between schemes.

(Still can’t believe roseblings isn’t canon. Like fWhip’s line about how he blew up relations with Scott because he messed with Gem, "it's okay fWhip I'm fine now," their tones, ohhhh devious work. They don't need to be canon, nonfamilial platonic relationships and all that, but STILL. I'm only human.)

Gem's also invested in magic and learning more about it, and she learns to trust and share that with others. The Crystal Cliffs Academy demonstrates growth: from solving problems herself when they’re too big to ignore, to actually addressing things at the source. Explicitly, the goal is to strengthen other empires magic knowledge so less crises happen. That’s preventative instead of reactionary. Even choosing the Ocean Queen as her first student is intentional: not an ally, causes a lot of medium scale ruckuses, in text Gem sensed her using transformation magic that wasn’t hers and wanted to guide Lizzie towards at least controlling it. Start of season Gem would’ve just kept handling any crises herself.

Essentially, Gem is trying SO HARD to be good. As anon said, she has a sort of rigid thinking (again, fun contrast between CC experimental and C rigidity) that creates this fantastic mix where she's staying true to the Wither Rose because she loves them and wants to keep them safe as their friend, but also trying to act for the greater good as a wizard, even though she'd rather focus on her own things. It's not a stable point of view, and is constantly challenged, creating the amazing series of events that we get to see unfold.

Also, Wizard Gem is straight up cool.

Regarding imagery, Wizard Gem has a distinct style that’s so fun to build and draw and write about. She's magical and otherworldly (dragons, the end) but also ethereal and magnificent on a human scale (towers, the moon.) Amethyst itself is inherently unique: something about forming deep under pressure, growing slow and beautiful, sought after as thrones and paths alike. These aesthetics have infinite storytelling potential, and look cute doing it.

And all these things are carried into Gem’s imagery as a whole! Losing her eye to and getting corrupted by the end portal in Life Series, building dragons and towers and villages all across her mc worlds, often using the moon in builds like her hc10 lighthouse. She’s solidly the moon in shinyduo sun/moon dynamic (while they both employ sun/moon all the time, Pearl builds and lores solidly more sun, let alone their comedy dynamic.) Even the struggle between embracing/chasing excellence versus holding herself back out of fear: that's Gem in every world! Emp1 is combining a lot of Gem's themes into one single character. And turns out she's really awesome!

This character wholeness lets Gem maintain her signature exasperated excellence over the other players. Like PVP prowess and building skill, she's an expert here too, and delightful to watch and interact with. Wizard Gem is amplifying everything, trying to keep her loved ones safe, learning that she needs to make peace herself, all while staying true to her beautiful masterful self.

Finally, CC!Gem is delighted to roleplay like this.

Every time she turns to the camera to give disclaimers and talk about her character, there's an infectious joy and "I can't believe this is my job." She often compares it to D&D, which ohh the parasocial brainrot is taking so normally, but also there's an unapologeticness to it. If you don't like her character / the roleplay / etc, stop watching, whatever, this is fun for the rest of us. Her and other CCs have talked about the crippling pushback from playing antagonistic characters -- and there's no shortage of that in emp1, she has to put disclaimers on the RP portions! But unlike Life Series where she's constantly fighting demons (it's own post, really) Wizard Gem is having too much fun to care. I think that's why emp1 hits different, at least for us Gem girlies. She's taking this seriously, and she's having the time of her life.

I originally posted about Worldhopper/Watcher Gem because that adds an extra layer of spice to her in all series, but it's still really awesome by itself. Summoning the dragons from ANOTHER WORLD? Hello?? Don't think I missed her using the nether portal to change skins either. Giggling during convos with Xornoth, undaunted by the Empires Crown, the list goes on. One day someone will assemble all her characters into the same room to compare notes and that someone will either be me or Geminitay herself.

In short, Empires S1 Gem is a Wizard. She's a catalyst, she ultimately wants peace, she's loyal curious and moral, she's straight up cool, and she's having fun. And isn't that just the most magical joy of all?

Anyway, accepting empires fic recommendations in reblogs / directly into my inbox. What a privilege to get to watch so much great art. Thank you for reading!

#geminitay #analysis #empires s1 #wizard gem appreciation post #let gem rp whatever she wants petition starting here #let her be morally ambiguous and experiment and wrong sometimes and brilliant other times and let her be happy #trafficblr #ask #no wonder they keep referencing emp1. it's still peak #also watched pearl. lizzie. joel. and some scott. so worth it #it's insane how much emp1 is like. the prototype for the next few years of content.#so many bits may not have begun here but they sure were refined #investing in a purple wizard hat and green cloak after this. mcyt does strange things to the mind #empires smp

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colbyheartland · 3 months ago

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So I love Dandadan actually because through those first seven episodes I couldn’t stop repeating to myself “Wow Momo is so fucking cool” like she’s such a genuine badass. My shounen senses were primed for her to just get saved over and over again, maybe just helping out every now and then but no SHE’S the one doing the majority of the saving. She and Okarun both feel like real people and they’re setting up a sweet and genuine romance that doesn’t feel creepy. The voice acting is also so good like she is SCREAMING out here.

Usually when an anime has two protagonists and one is a female she feels like a passive observer just getting swept along for the ride even when they’re supposed to be “tough” it fades away or they are made lesser to make the male lead look better. But Momo and Okarun actually work together!!! They both act like human people!!!! Including the ugly parts with Okarun’s avoidance tendencies and Momo regretting when she does lash out because she knows she’s in the wrong. And they talk about it after she does!! It comes with a healthy dose of “teenagers are kind of mean because they’re still maturing” which is normal and amazing to see.

This anime is healing something I didn’t even realize was broken when I found myself not having to cringe away from little moments that make me uncomfortable. There is a bit of fanservice going on (thanks grandma) and yes I get episode 1 starting off as a bit much for people but honestly, genuinely, did you think aliens WEREN’T going to try and probe someone in the Alien Ghosts Anime TM. Kidnapping humans and cows for experimentation is what they’re most famously known for. You are meant to be uncomfortable and weirded out by this episode. An episode that ends when she unlocks fucking psychic powers and blasts that alien through the wall of a SPACESHIP like hello??

Momo Ayase is that character you give a gun to if you want to shorten the book by half and the author gave her one in the form of psychic powers.

#i could talk about just the first two epsiodes for eternity but now we have SEVEN and oh man that seventh episode #dandadan #dandadan spoilers #slight spoilers but they’re there #PLEASE talk to me about this anime #he wears her CLOTHES AND THEY ARENT SUPER WEIRD ABOUT IT #it may not sound important at first glance but its just another subtle nod to #‘oh hey girls and women are actually just people too’#and from a male author at that #also the COLORSSSSS have you all SEEN THE COLORS #and grandma is the one who gets animated with the majority of fanservice which is a whole thing on its own #like even when momo’s in her underware she is animated like a person moving normally #and the only time she even thinks to go ‘woah hey don’t look at me’ is when shes actively changing #she’s freaking out about the actual danger in the first episode and not just being embarrassed shes in her underware #like just another subtle difference from how most women in anime would react

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decembermidnight · 11 months ago

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Don't lose your focus

Summary: As a Jedi Padawan fighting during the Clone Wars, you and your Master are used to teaming up with Clones. But none are as intriguing as Clone Force 99 and their leader, Sergeant Hunter. Sparks fly immediately and it's difficult to keep your focus. With the mission complete, perhaps the two of you will finally give in and indulge in your desires...

Pairing: Hunter x Jedi!fem!reader

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: smut, 18+ MDNI, Dom!Hunter, use of pet names (sweetheart), shameless flirting, mentions of alcohol consumption, masculinity kink, voice kink, light choking, hand kink, body worship, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, orgasm delay, creampie

A/N: This is the result of me watching The Bad Batch while ovulating. This is (probably) not how the Force works but your honour I was horny. Thank you to my dear @thefrogdalorian for the immense help and support! I love you so much! Amazing divider by @saradika-graphics At the end of the fic you'll find the links to some amazing Hunter fanarts I found here on Tumblr! These were such an inspiration when writing and I wanted to thank and credit the artists for creating such amazing pieces!

Masterlist - Read on Ao3 - Read Part 2 here!

Another day, another dangerous mission in the Outer Rim.

Nothing new for you and your Master who are used to leading these missions successfully. The only difference is that this time you'll be assisted by Experimental Unit Clone Force 99. It’s the first time you even heard about them, but your superiors assured you they’re best suited for this job. A highly-skilled squad of defective clones with desirable mutations? Sounds interesting.

Apparently, The Bad Batch, as they call themselves, despise rules and protocol and adopt unusual methods to get the job done… Much like you and your Master.

Their ship has just made a bumpy landing on the field, causing a fuss. You watch curiously as the squad descends the ramp. There are four of them, and they undoubtedly look badass in their black armour.

The first one – their leader, you assume – removes his helmet and... damn. Damn. He's hot, with a confident look in his deep brown eyes. He also has long, wavy, dark hair; a feature which has always been a weakness of yours. His face is half covered in a tattoo that resembles a skeleton. He's undoubtedly the most charming of the Batch, and also the most attractive clone you’ve ever come across.

��I’m Sergeant Hunter,” he rasps as he greets you and your Master. His voice is deep and husky, very different from those of all the other clones you’ve met so far.

After introducing himself, Hunter moves to quickly describe the peculiarities that make each of the members of the team unique. As you stand back to observe them, you can’t help thinking just how much fun they are. Wrecker (the strong one) is getting reluctantly lectured by Tech (the smart one) while Crosshair (the laconic and lethal sniper) stands there in silence. He reminds you of your Master so much.

As much as you enjoy observing the rest of the squad, you find your gaze returns to Hunter, the clone with enhanced senses. You are unable to tear your eyes away from him. You know you have to keep it together, but you can’t help eating him with your eyes. Your gaze lingers on his body, on the way his pauldrons make his shoulders even broader, how much the black colour of his armour suits him.

You have just begun fantasising about the way his strong body would look without the armour when you notice Hunter staring directly at you. Busted. You lock eyes for a few seconds and you just know that he understands the nature of the thoughts you’re having about him. Then, your pounding heart skips a beat when Hunter winks at you. It is a split-second gesture that is over so quickly amidst the chaos of the conversation, a little secret between the two of you. You smile flirtatiously at him in response.

The whole group begins heading towards their ship, The Marauder. While the rest of the Batch and your Master head up the ramp towards the ship that will take you to the rendezvous point, you and Hunter pause at the bottom.

“I’m afraid I haven’t caught your name, sweetheart?” Hunter asks, breaking the silence with his deep, raspy voice.

"I am a Jedi, not a sweetheart," you point out teasingly and look at him with crossed arms, trying to sound tough.

"A Padawan," he reminds you with a smirk on his face.

You watch curiously as Hunter takes your braid – the unmistakable sign of your rank as an apprentice – between his fingers. He gently rolls it between his gloved finger and thumb contemplatively as his brown eyes meet your gaze once again.

"I technically outrank you, Sergeant," you say, challenging him.

"You do, Commander," Hunter nods, but makes no effort to move his hand away from your braid, or to interrupt eye contact.

Hunter can tell that you don’t mind the gesture. As if to push the boundaries further, he moves his hand from your braid to gently place it on your cheek. The leather of his glove feels soft against your face. You are stunned that a seasoned soldier such as him can actually be so gentle in the way he touches you.

You can feel the tension coming from the two of you, a simmering fire somewhere deep within. It's only a matter of time before it boils over. You look at each other straight in the eyes, neither one of you daring to look away.

Just as you're about to tease him with yet another witty reply, you hear the sound of footsteps at the top of the ramp.

"Hey, Hunter, are you gonna come with us or what?!" Wrecker shouts, abruptly interrupting your shameless flirting.

"On my way," Hunter replies, without breaking eye contact with you.

His intense gaze lingers on you for a few more seconds before he looks at you apologetically and turns to head up to the ramp and onto the Marauder.

As soon as Hunter turns away from you, you realise just how hard your heart is thundering in your chest. His gaze was so intense that it made you forget to breathe properly. So much for the Jedi breathing techniques. It turns out if there is a handsome man with dark eyes flirting with you, they lose all effectiveness. You take a deep breath, filling your burning lungs with oxygen.

When you enter the ship, you are still trembling. As you take a seat next to your Master, you try to ignore his accusatory glare. You feel his eyes burning into your soul as the guilt threatens to overwhelm you, even though nothing too scandalous happened.

As the Marauder enters hyperspace, your Master takes a seat on the cold metallic floor in an isolated area of the ship. Meditating before battle is a ritual he always follows and you immediately join him. It can help you shift your focus back to where it should be – on the mission. Only, you can't focus.

Instead of your mind becoming one with the Force, you're highly attuned to the actions of the members of the squad. It is as though you can see them as if you were standing before them: Tech studying the holo-maps, Crosshair cleaning his sniper rifle, Wrecker taking a nap, and of course, Hunter. He is mindlessly playing with his vibroknife as he slouches on a crate.

You are entranced by the way his fingers move across the handle and the blade. Maker, the movement of his hand and fingers – you can't focus on anything else as he makes the knife masterfully swirl between them. There's something so erotic about the way he plays with it. Your mind wanders to think about his hands roaming on your body, slipping between your thighs, skillfully rubbing your clit. You fantasise about how quickly Hunter would make you come, how hard your orgasm would be as it tore through you, leaving you a trembling wreck.

Your focus then goes to his muscular thighs. Hunter’s legs are spread wide and he looks so effortlessly masculine. The aura of confidence he radiates as he comfortably sits there, taking up the entire crate as he lounges on top of it, gives you even more thoughts that are unbecoming of a Padawan. It makes you almost dizzy with want as you think about how much you want to straddle him and ride him into ecstasy.

“Are you done?” your Master’s cold voice interrupts your filthy train of thought with a brief and concise message through the Force.

He heard your thoughts. Each and every single one. Your Master caught you red-handed. How embarrassing.

You are too mortified to even mumble an apology, through the Force or otherwise. Instead, you sit there wishing you could be anywhere else in the galaxy as you feel the heat rise in your cheeks and pull your hood up to hide your flustered face in your cape.

Luckily, before the awkward moment can continue for any longer, Tech announces the imminent jump out of hyperspace. You still cannot bear to make eye contact with your Master, shrinking into your blessedly baggy cape as you begin the descent into the planet’s atmosphere...

The mission was a success – you and your Master worked your magic with the precious support of Clone Force 99. What seemed like a desperate operation, turned out to be an extremely important victory for the Republic. Training with your Master has been so hard, but damn did that pay off. You slayed all your enemies elegantly and effortlessly, just like he taught you. The whole Bad Batch congratulated you two. Wrecker was especially impressed, electing the two of you as his favourite Jedi. What an honour. Hunter also invited you and your Master to celebrate the victory by having a drink all together in a cantina.

Just as you’re about to enter the cantina and join the Bad Batch, your Master calls your name. You stop in your tracks, scared that he might reprimand you for the way you acted today. You begin panicking and thinking back to what happened in guilt…

When you and your Master had taken off your heavy capes before engaging in battle, you noticed Hunter couldn't keep his eyes off you. You were wearing a skin-tight dark suit, after all.

It was a fact you decided to exploit after Hunter had given his squad their orders for the mission. You walked away swaying your hips, making sure you gave him a great opportunity to look at your ass. You remember how you could feel his eyes glued to it. You could also feel his desire for you. It was impossible for him to hide; it permeated him, radiated from him. Maker, you love making him crumble.

You think back to the way Crosshair rasped, "Hunter, don't lose your focus.” You are certain that is what your Master is about to scold you for.

Instead, you watch in shock as a half smile appears on your Master’s face, something you don't see very often.

“You did good today. I’m proud of you,” he nods.

Since when does your Master pay you compliments like this?

“Th-Thank you,” you stammer, caught off-guard by how unexpected his praise is.

“You fulfilled your duties as a Jedi. Now, go and have your fun.”

You don’t have time to respond before he turns on his heel and walks away, cape billowing in the breeze. You know your Master doesn’t often like to stick around after missions, often needing some quiet time to himself to decompress and meditate. You let him go, knowing that he will find his way back to the Marauder before it departs, as he always does.

As you step into the Cantina, a smile spreads on your face when you notice the Bad Batch sitting at a table with a full flagon of booze and an empty seat for you to toast your success. You and Hunter lock eyes again as he invites you to sit in that spot close to him.

Hunter loses no time in placing his arm around your shoulders while smiling at you. You lean into his embrace, feeling comforted and protected. The warm presence of his arm around you makes you smile contentedly. It feels so good to let the guard down for once, especially if you're in the arms of a handsome, strong and charming man such as Hunter.

As the night goes on, the three other members of The Bad Batch keep conversing with each other, giving you and Hunter the opportunity to speak privately. It’s as though the background noise fades out. You don't even bother focusing on the discourse the others are having. It’s just you and Hunter flirting shamelessly now.

“You know, I've never seen a ship like yours. I wish I had time to properly explore it... Thoroughly," you flirt with him while draining the last few dregs in your flagon.

"Want me to give you a tour, sweetheart?" he says with a smile on his face, perfectly understanding your intentions.

"Would be cool, yeah," you reply.

Hunter offers you his hand and you gladly accept it with a mischievous smile.

Just as you stand, you feel the alcohol has definitely kicked in. You’re not drunk though, just a little bit tipsy, enough to make you brave and go get exactly what you want.

As soon as you and Hunter get out of the cantina and find yourselves alone in the dark alley, you both give into the instincts you tried to suppress all day long. Hunter pins you to the wall as you pull him closer at the same time, until you join in a passionate, longing kiss.

You welcome his tongue in your mouth as his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. His touch and the way he kisses you are so confident that you clench around nothing, holding him tighter as you moan in his mouth. Maker, you want him. His whole body jolts when he feels that, pinning you harder against the wall, mentally cursing the armour that is preventing him from feeling the softness of your body against his.

He stops kissing you just so he can look at how stunning you are under the moonlight, hot and flustered after that first, heavy session of making out.

"Look at you. So beautiful," he whispers as he cups your face with his hand, the other one still lingering around your waist. Hunter is treating you like the most precious thing in the galaxy now that he can finally have you all for himself. You lean into his gentle touch as he takes in all the features of your face, especially the way your eyes glimmer with admiration and arousal for him.

You look at his deep, dark and expressive brown eyes and the strong, masculine features of his face that make you throb with need. Your hand caresses his cheek, following the lines of his skeleton tattoo and the contour of his chiseled jaw. He observes you as a sweet smile appears on your face, making you look irresistible and drawing his lips closer to yours once again…

"Hey! Where's Hunter?!" you hear Wrecker shout from inside of the tavern, just as your lips are mere inches apart.

You and Hunter both laugh as you resume the kissing. It's like the whole galaxy stops existing. For a soldier who has seen nothing but war, his kisses are to die for. Your tongues twirl in each other's mouths and it's like his greedy lips can't ever get enough of yours. His mouth is hot like a damn furnace as he takes all the time in the galaxy to worship you with his lips, letting his hands wander throughout your body. You're getting soaked already, feeling your arousal slowly dripping down your legs as a throbbing need pulsates between your thighs. You moan in his mouth as you dig your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. The kiss is getting deeper and more passionate as you go on.

Hunter's lips start to trail down to your neck, making you sigh deeply as he covers it in kisses. Your scent drives him wild. He can smell your pheromones, feeling you're unmistakably full of desire. He can't resist and just gives a swift lick from the base of your neck to your ear that makes you sharply stifle a gasp, arching your back and tightening your grip on his hair.

"Let's go to the Marauder, shall we?" he rasps in your ear, a voice full of lust that gives you goosebumps.

"Y-yes…" you stutter, feeling light-headed with arousal and being incapable of hiding it.

He offers you his hand as you enter the ship. The two of you cut a clumsy path through the Marauder towards Hunter’s bunk, frequently taking breaks where Hunter desperately pushes you against the cool steel walls of the ship, your arms clinging tight to his shoulders and his face buried in your neck.

"Maker... Take off your armour," you plead as his teeth dig into your delicate skin like a feral beast would do with his prey.

He does, letting each piece fall to the ground as you go on kissing each other, leaving a trail of armour pieces on the floor as you slowly make your way towards his bunk. He looks stunning with just his tight black suit on. You take in the broadness of his shoulders, the way his pectorals stand out, highlighted by the tightness of the suit and grope the strong muscles of his biceps. Oh, fuck. How much do you love a man. Tall, muscular, strong, confident, with dark eyes and a head full of long, wavy hair. A Man.

You moan in his mouth when you feel his thick biceps flexing under your touch. A smile forms on his lips as he feels how much you like this. As his arms wrap around your body, yours go in his hair. Maker, how safe do you feel in his arms. It's such an innate instinct – wanting to be held in the arms of a strong man, surrendering and trusting him, something that usually you would never be permitted to do in your life as a Jedi.

You can feel his erection against your lower belly, straining against his extremely thin black suit. His fingers hook in the hem of your pants, yanking them down over your ass, exposing your drenched cunt as he sits you down in his bunk.

He kneels before you, taking your boots and pants off and spreads your legs, his dark eyes looking into yours as a smirk appears on his face.

"Hunter–" you sigh.

"Wanna get you nice and ready for me, sweetheart," he coos as he starts to kiss your inner thigh.

The vision makes you tremble with lust and your hands helplessly clench into fists in a desperate attempt to grab the material under you to keep you steady. Your legs shake but he keeps them steady in his strong arms. He goes on trailing kisses on your inner thighs without ever stopping looking at you. He's taking his time with it, wanting to enjoy the way your whole body is throbbing with need. Your breathing gets more and more shallow as his mouth gets closer to where you want him the most.

You lift your gaze from Hunter’s dark brown eyes, shutting your eyes for a mere fraction of a second, trying to alleviate the aching need you feel. Hunter chooses that moment to finally give you what you need. With a quick lick to your clit, your whole body jerks into his touch and a whimper escapes from your lips.

Hunter smirks up at you, the corner of his mouth lifting upwards in a smug, satisfied look. Then, he proceeds to bury his face between your legs and masterfully lick your swollen clit. His tongue brings you so much pleasure that your back arches involuntarily, pushing yourself further into his mouth. You moan his name and grab a handful of his long, thick hair. He purrs in your cunt when you entangle your fingers in his hair and you notice how his grip on your legs becomes tighter.

"Oh... Oh fuck!" you exclaim in ecstasy, barely able to form words.

One of his hands releases its grasp on your legs, which he has been using to keep you spread open for him. You throw your head back gasping as he slowly slides two of his thick fingers inside you.

"So tight," he growls with a smirk on his face.

Hunter pumps his fingers inside of you, slowly increasing the rhythm, ensuring that you’re stretched out for him. It is a motion that brings you so much pleasure you wonder how it could possibly get better. Your whole body jerks in pure bliss under his touch. He enjoys looking at you like this, you can see it from how darkened his eyes are with lust.

For a brief second, his fingers and mouth leave your cunt, leaving you devastatingly empty. You watch in awe as Hunter sticks them in his mouth, without breaking eye contact with you. He sucks on his fingers, humming while closing his eyes to savor your taste from places where his tongue can’t reach.

"You taste so good, sweetheart," he rasps as he resumes fucking you with his fingers.

He watches you contort under him, moaning and begging for him to return his skillful mouth between your thighs. Your hips thrust up and down right in front of his face. You are shamelessly fucking yourself on his fingers, inviting him to bury his face back in your folds. You desperately bury your hands in his hair in an attempt to pull him closer.

"Damn, you're so beautiful like this," he says before his mouth goes back exactly where you wanted.

Then, Hunter does something absolutely devastating. While he continues licking your clit, he starts sucking it gently, all as he continues pumping his thick fingers inside of you. Hunter wants to draw an orgasm from you, his actions becoming more and more frantic as you grow closer to your climax. He can feel by the irregular way you breathe and shake that you're close.

"Yes. Yes. Like this. Let go, sweetheart," he encourages you.

It's only a matter of seconds before you come, writhing under him. Your legs are wrapped around his head, squishing it. You scream his name so loud it echoes in the Marauder. Hunter is pleased as he looks at your blissed-out expression and feels your cunt clamping around his fingers. Your back arches as you ride your orgasm, pushing yourself further into his tongue so you can feel him licking you through your orgasm. Hunter purrs into your cunt, loving the way you let go around him. He loves how his face is getting soaked in your arousal, so addicted to the way you taste.

Hunter holds you steady as your orgasm fades out. When you regain your senses, you slowly release your grip on his hair. Only then he props himself up and slowly unzips his suit, showing you the beautiful golden skin underneath. A warm contrast under the black, tight layer.

The dark hairs on his chest are perfectly trimmed, accentuating each of his toned muscles and the tattoos which decorate his thick, masculine body. Your gaze is locked on his hand trailing down his abdomen, his muscles rippling as he approaches the hem of his pants.

You shamelessly look at the bulge in his dark suit, a sight that makes your mouth water. Hunter’s lips curve into a smirk once again, noticing that you like what you see. The smug look on his face makes you throb with need once again, despite the fact that he just gave you an intense orgasm.

He hooks his thumb in the hem of his pants, watching intently for your reaction as he slowly pulls the material down to reveal the trimmed, dark hairs around the base of his thick cock.

Hunter notices the intense way you look at it and hears the whimper you just tried to suppress in your throat. He can feel your heart rate going up. It makes him smirk confidently as he goes on, finally freeing his hard, thick cock. You gulp while looking at it, as he uses the same fingers he had buried in you to cover it in your arousal. He gives it a few, firm strokes to ensure it’s nice and wet for you. The mere vision of it makes you bite your lip to muffle another impatient whimper.

Then he is on you, peeling your shirt away from your quivering body, rejoicing when he can finally touch it and worship it with his mouth. Hunter trails kisses across your collarbones and down towards your breasts. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive flesh there, before softly biting your nipples. You gasp when you feel his erection hard against your cunt. He starts to thrust his hips against yours so his cock can rub against your drenched core, getting it soaked in your juices. Your mind turns completely blank at that, heart thundering in your chest as his hands roam across your body.

Hunter aligns himself to your entrance, groaning as his cock slowly makes its way inside of you. You admire his restraint. You know how much he probably wants to take you with one thrust, but instead he is being so gentle and careful with you, making sure that you are well-adjusted to his size.

He takes your jaw in his hand, looking deep inside your eyes as his thick cock stretches you open. You struggle to keep eye contact with him, unlike earlier when you were flirting with him. Now, your eyes only want to roll backwards. The pleasure you feel as he splits you open is overwhelming your body and senses.

You pathetically try to mumble some incoherencies, but he's quick to shut you up with a kiss. Hunter growls low in his throat when he feels your walls desperately clenching around him, as he buries himself into you to the hilt.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good," he rasps, almost desperately before giving you another wet kiss. Then, he raises his hips only to bury his cock deep inside you, making you moan into his mouth.

"How – how can you feel so fucking good?" he whimpers.

Hunter’s large hands gently cup your face, as he continues placing passionate kisses against your lips while thrusting into you. You notice his kisses become more desperate as he slowly increases the rhythm. As Hunter picks up the pace, he buries his face in your neck, panting low in your ear.

You are certain that he can’t go any faster, before he proves you wrong. He increases the pace to a brutal rhythm, fucking you so hard you start screaming.

"So loud,” he rasps, “They're gonna hear us in the Cantina."

"Then make me shut up," you whisper daringly.

A blaze of lust glimmers in his eyes as you lay down that challenge. Something shifts inside of him as he gives you a feral, animalistic look. Hunter quickly covers your mouth with his hand, showing you his more dominant, commanding side which makes you clamp tightly around his cock.

"Oh, you like this," he smirks, satisfied that this is precisely what you wanted all along.

You nod frantically. There is no use hiding how much this turns you on. Despite how much Hunter shows care towards you, you suspect there is something darker which lingers below the surface. You want to draw it out of him.

"What else do you like, hm?" he coos as he wraps his other hand around your throat, lightly choking you, his thumb rubbing your throat possessively.

The sight of you, looking so vulnerable under him as he can finally dominate you makes him frantic with lust. Gone are the measured thrusts and even rhythm of before. Something feral has overtaken Hunter, a desperate need to claim you. He continues silencing your moans with one hand around your throat and one across your mouth, muffling your gasps as he wrecks you with his cock.

Having Hunter's hand muffling your own moans gives you the opportunity to hear his desperate grunts and pants as they mix with the obscene, squelching sound his cock makes each time he thrusts into you. You close your eyes in bliss, enjoying this moment of pure pleasure.

"Can't keep your eyes open for me, sweetheart? Look at me with those pretty fucking eyes," he growls.

You can't help but whimper at that, at how authoritative he sounds. The Sergeant of The Bad Batch is dominating the fuck out of you. You are a moaning, gasping mess beneath him, unable to think about anything other than how good being furiously pounded by him feels.

"I didn't catch that,” Hunter rasps as he slowly lifts his hand from your mouth. He leans down to put his ear against your mouth “What were you saying, sweetheart?"

"L-let me – fuck!” you gasp, too blissed out to form words.

“Use your words,” Hunter commands, slowing his thrusts down so you can finally speak.

“Let me touch you!" you beg, unable to care about how desperate and pathetic you sound. All you can think about is roaming your hands around the warm, firm expanse of his body.

Hunter smirks, intrigued by your request, only too happy to oblige you. He grabs your hand roughly by the wrist and positions it over his abdomen. You can feel his muscles flexing and contracting under your touch as he thrusts into you. His body is as hard as iron and on fire like a damn furnace, burning with lust.

"Maker…" you whisper.

You let your hand trail up to his firm chest. You grope his pectorals, appreciating the firmness of his muscles. Your cunt clenches around his cock at the sight of your hand against his golden skin. A smirk appears on his face, enjoying what he does to you.

Your hand goes up to his broad shoulder, rubbing over it before you move your hand towards his back. You feel how his muscles strain there with each thrust as he continues pounding into you at a relentless pace. Both of your hands are now caressing his back, feeling every single dimple under your fingertips. Just as you try pulling him close, he starts to give it to you even harder. You scratch your fingernails along his back. You watch in awe as Hunter moans in your mouth at that.

"Could–could fucking smell how much you wanted me earlier. You distracted me the whole time. Couldn't think of anything else besides how good you'd look with my cock inside of you,” he rasps in your neck before biting you, growling wildly as he does. “I was so fucking hard for you, sweetheart," Hunter grunts.

He's so feral for you, fucking you so hard. You can't even mumble a response.

"Smell so good – so fucking good–" he whispers in your ear.

"D-don't s–stop," you mumble in your cockdrunk delirium.

"I can't, sweetheart. This cunt's all I ever wanted,” he growls, “Gonna make you mine. Mine."

"Oh, fuck… Yes," you pant as he props himself up, kneeling in front of you without stopping that devastating rhythm for even half a second.

He looks at your body, at the way your boobs bounce with each thrust as he gives it go you even harder, holding on tight to your legs, using them as leverage to bury himself even deeper inside of you. Seeing him like this makes you remember just how badly you wanted to ride his cock earlier.

"Hunter. Hunter. I want to ride you," you whimper.

"Is that an order, Commander?"

"Y–yes. Yes. Order. S–s-sergeant," you mindlessly go on as he keeps thrusting his cock inside of you.

The thought of you bouncing on his cock makes him throb. In an instant, Hunter lifts you in his arms as if you were weightless and makes you straddle him. He sits with his back against the wall of the bunk. His hands are on your waist and you immediately start rocking your hips up and down, giving into your fantasy from earlier.

"Such a good soldier… So good at following orders," you whisper against his lips.

"Yeah… Sometimes," he smirks before gripping your hair and stealing another wet, hot kiss that makes you melt into him even further.

Your head rolls back in pleasure at the way his cock feels from this position. It's devastating, hitting something deep within you. You almost lose yourself in that feeling, but Hunter won’t allow you to. Even though you are on top of him, Hunter is quick to remind you who’s in charge as he takes your jaw in his hand.

"Eyes on me," he orders firmly.

"Yes, Sergeant," you moan.

You swear you feel him throbbing and choke a grunt when he hears the sensual way you pronounce his title. Clearly, using his rank in this context has done something to Hunter. He moves his thumb between your lips and you suck it provocatively, never stopping yourself from meeting his gaze. Hunter’s pupils widen at the sinful way your lips envelop his finger and your tongue gently touches it. His eyes take into your sensual, precious beauty, before bringing you to him and kissing you again.

Your bodies are damp in sweat and rubbing against one another. Your nipples deliciously catch against his hairy, broad chest. You continue moaning into each other's mouths; your tongues never stop touching.

"Hunter, I'm gonna come–" you whimper.

"Hold it for me, sweetheart," he rasps in a sweet, yet dark voice, having the opposite effect from what he intended.

"Please, I want to come on your cock," you plead desperately.

"Not yet," he smirks.

Hunter grabs your hips and guides your movements so that your clit starts to rub against his pelvis. You let out a loud moan as you hold on to him tighter, digging your nails in his shoulders.

"I can't hold it!" you scream with your eyes shut.

He grabs your chin in his hand, clearly uninterested in your desperate appeals.

"Look at me," he says firmly as you open your eyes. Your vision is too blurry to focus on him but you try nonetheless.

"Now come for me, sweetheart," he rasps darkly.

You obey his order and come hard around his cock. An overwhelming, intense wave of pleasure starts at your core and completely takes over your body. You’re wrecked by uncontrollable shakes as Hunter holds you in his strong arms. You scream and pant as you ride your high. Your eyes roll backwards while Hunter focuses on how beautiful you look when you lose control. Especially when he is the one responsible for it.

Hunter feels your heart running in your chest and every single contraction of your muscles around his cock. The unmistakable, heady scent of sex that fills the Marauder drives him insane, making him burst inside of you. He grunts loudly as he fills you up with his load, holding you tight in his grasp.

You moan in each other's mouths, your forehead leaning on his as you look into each other’s eyes. You never leave each other’s gaze as you both give into the highest of pleasure.

As you come down from your high, your rhythm slows down until it stops completely. Your bodies are intertwined like vines, naked and sweaty as you catch breath in each other’s embrace.

You really do make a great team, after all.

Fanarts: Hunter's back + Shirtless Hunter by @mesvi Hello handsome by @corukant Wet Hunter by @iszapizza Hunter under the shower by @shakall Hunter and his vibroknife by @ve-ti-ver Hunter under the shower by @cloned-eyes Hunter taking off his shirt + Tech by @constant-brain-fog Hunter taking a shower by kaijurave (on twitter/x)

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bamboobooshark · 6 months ago

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LOGAN HOWLETT X READER

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🧸 ⋅ ˚✮ SQUISHY (1) : 866 WRDS

( PART TWO HERE )

A/N : Rambling warning! An amazing reader recently asked if I could write a series with Steven and Jake, but I declined due to lack of skill for writing plots. “Squishy” will be an experimental, practice miniseries in which Logan is the (implied plus-sized) reader’s father figure, and care giver for when they regress. I SWEAR I will eventually write some Logan stuff that isn’t fatherly/platonic!

You wake up and are still in a pretty stressed state. Last night you argued with your best friend, and they ended up blocking you. It wasn’t like them to do that. All that time the two of you spent together, every deep conversation, every moment of vulnerability soured just because of a disagreement. You never would’ve expected it, but here you were, sulking as your mind was screaming at you.

It was hard to think. It was hard to do anything. It was just hard.

Thank god for Logan Howlett, though. He came into your room with cautious steps and a worried look. “Hey, kid. I noticed you didn’t come down for breakfast,” he said with a soft voice. His gaze lingered on the outline of you under your blanket while patiently awaiting a response. “Just let me know if you end up getting hungry. I’ll make you something, okay? In the meantime I’ll be in my room,” he told you with a tone that pleaded for a response. After standing in the awkward silence of your room, he slowly walked out.

You weren’t really hungry. You’d lost your appetite. You didn’t want to do anything. But Logan’s tone tugged at your heart and flipped a switch in your brain after you sat there for a while and processed his words. You felt your stomach get fluttery and your bottom lip pushed out in a bit of a pout. You needed to get to him as soon as possible.

As much as your body didn’t want to, your mind convinced it to drag itself out of bed and go down the hall to Logan’s room. You knocked while holding your favorite stuffed animal against your chest. You felt a bit nervous seeking out his affection and care after you completely ignored him. Realistically, you’d probably end up crying if you didn’t get what your heart ached for.

Your slightly trembling hand reached to knock on his door. “Papa? Can I come in, please? I want cuddles,” you called to him. Logan smiled to himself softly. Mostly because you finally came to talk to him, but also because he loved caring for you when you regressed. “Yeah! You can open the door, babydoll. I ain’t doing anything,” he said with an optimistic tone. You giggled softly, your hand gripping your stuffed animal a little tighter out of excitement.

You peeked into his room before fully stepping in. Logan was lying on his bed, one leg on top of the other, cigar in hand, and wearing his usual attire. His hand scratched at his fluffy jaw while leaning his head against his forearm. He smiled when you made your way into his room. “Come on, kid. I might bite, but I won’t bite you,” he joked. He put out his cigar while exhaling deeply, the smoke curling up against his face.

His old bedframe squeaked as you climbed onto his mattress. “There you go, little one,” he cooed softly. He wrapped one arm around your side while the other rested on his stomach. A soft hum came from his throat as he carefully grabbed your stomach rolls. “My squishy little doll,” he whispered to you.

He loved feeling all the soft bits of your flesh. Anytime the two of you cuddled or had “sleepovers” in the living room, he’d grab a chunk of whatever he could. Your thighs, your stomach, your waist. Anything he could.

You curled up into his side, sandwiching your stuffed animal between you and Logan. “You brought a little friend with you. They’re so cute, aren’t they,” he asks sweetly. You smile and nod against his chest.

He reaches the hand that’s on his stomach to your thigh and moves it to rest on his hips. He pats the skin softly before he gives your thigh a good squeeze like he did to your stomach. “You are just so soft and amazing, kid. You know that,” he asks before kissing your forehead. You nod in agreement once more while letting out a soft squeak from all the affection. “Squishy, squishy, squishy,” he hums softly to you.

Logan nuzzles his face against the top of your head, his beard brushing your forehead gently. He keeps his hands where they are as they still slightly grasp your body. The two of you stay lying there for a moment. You can hear his heart beating steadily accompanied by his deep breathing. Wind whistles against the glass of Logan’s window. The sheets rustle every so often when he repositions his hand or kisses your forehead again. This whole moment almost lulls you back to sleep.

Until Logan gives you a little tickle. “Papa! That’s mean,” you pout softly. He chuckles at your disruption to the silence. “I’m sorry, doll! I couldn’t resist. You expect me to not do that when I’ve got my hand right here on your stomach,” he asks playfully while getting a tighter grasp on the flesh. You squeal at the feeling, unaware that he didn’t even mean to tickle you that time. Nonetheless, he keeps a playful grin on his face. He pats your side and sighs deeply. “How about some breakfast, kid?”

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harmoonix · 1 year ago

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👑 Queen Energy - Astrology Notes

∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞

She, queen of the kings

∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞

🕊️ - Cancerian Degrees 4°, 16°, 28° in your Sun, Moon or Rising makes you look so pure and feminine, you have so much feminine energy inside of you and you tend to give mother vibes to people around you

🕊️ - Sagittarius Degrees 9°, 21° in your Sun, Moon or Rising makes you look so appealing to others. The type of person everyone is curious to know because you seem amazing from the first time they see you entering in a room

🕊️ - Midhaven in Libra Degrees 7°, 19° = The person can appear elegant and charming to the people, you tend to give others this vibe of lovely and harmonious person who seeks for peace

🕊️ - Midheaven in Aries Degrees 1°, 13°, 25° = Native can appear hot and irresistible from the first sight people see them and but in the same time someone with a lot of confidence and brave

🕊️ - Venus aspecting Pluto (all aspects) can get people obsessed with them and I ain't joke, y'all can even have hidden stalkers or just people who stay in the shadows trying to know more about you = Oh, oh, oh, boy why you so obsessed with me

🕊️ - Mars square/opposite/conjunct Midheaven can appear scandalous and attractive in the eyes of people, they are the moment. Show your confidence makes you haters explode

🕊️ - Venus in Aquarius Degrees (11°, 23°) will always stand up with their uniqueness, they have something unique inside them that's is so visible seen is like you go into a cave full of gemstones and they are the rare diamond

🕊️ - Venus in Leo Degrees (5°, 17°, 29°) will always make a good first impression, they are mesmerizing Inside and out and they shine always. They be having the best personalities ever

∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞

She, queen of the kings, broken her cage, threw out the keys

She will be the warrior of North and Southern Seas

∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞ღ∞

🕊️ - Sun at Scorpio Degrees 8°, 20° are magnetic inside and out, they are always the type of mysterious energy in the room where everyone looks at when they enter in a room

🕊️ - Sun at Taurus Degrees 2°, 14°, 26°, I have only one thing to say... You give princess vibes. Your aura, your personality, your words... everything about you seems so delicate and gracious

🕊️ - Moon in the 5th/10th houses will always show off their best versions of themselves even when they have it low. Because they keep it cool and attracting

🕊️ - Lilith in the 3rd/6th houses have such an enchanting voice, Mercury rules these houses and here it gives these natives really good voices

🕊️ - Venus in Scorpio/Venus in the 8th house natives loves to get complimented about their looks, if they look too sexy or not. Never forget to tell them how gorgeous they are!!!

🕊️ - Capricorn in big 3 (Sun, Moon or Rising) will always have something in them that reminds you about royals, they always give this commander energy type of vibe

🕊️ - An Air Mars will always be sensual in the way they communicate and in their moods, it is in their blood to be like this, keep an eye out for them if you want to be theirs

🕊️ - Moon square/opposite/conjunct Saturn should be praised more about how much control they can have and how powerful they are because they didn't have it easy (Def an Queen Placement)

🕊️ - Jupiter - Neptune harmonious aspects: These are one of my fav aspects to have in a birth chart they are so spiritual and intuitive omg and they have this aura of "experimental soul" like they have been here before and know a lot of things sometimes even without a reason (I can sense/ see these natives can be protected either by universe or their ancestors)

🕊️ - Venus - Ascendant aspects, this aspect is literally touched by Venus herself with the beauty and talent, very artistic, very lovely and of course very beautiful

🕊️ - Venus - Sun aspects, they give this warm energy that makes them to shine in the crowd and it gives them this angelic beauty

🕊️ - Moon in Fire Degrees (1°, 5°, 9°, 13°, 17°, 21°, 25°, 29°) are so savage in words if you especially in a fight, they can be brutally honest aswell and can call you out for the things you did wrong

🕊️ - Lilith - Saturn aspects these aspects can be very powerful and karmic once they learn they power no one can stop them, these aspects are giving the Lilith herself when she broke up with Adam and left the garden of Eden. She was furious,hurt and sad in the same time. These aspects can give the same energy

🕊️ - My beloved Air Risings have a unique magnetism upon others being air ruled comes with a wind of attraction (The Lords of Air Risings: Mercury, Saturn/Uranus and Venus are coming to slay not to play)

🕊️ - Asteroid Eva [164] aspecting the Ascendant look very feminine and gracious, well mannered, polite, kind at heart and sensibile. An good combination

🕊️ - Asteroid Eva [164] aspecting Asteroid Adam (6461) - Girl you don't know how much power you hold, with this aspect you tend to have submissive energy around you (Makes sense look at the aspects names 😭)/ Let's say that... men who want an submissive partner will want you hard

🕊️ - Asteroid Aphrodite (1388) aspecting Pluto gives threatening vibes, people may be feel an threatening aura coming from you with this aura (I ain't joke I say from experience 😭). You have a lot of power and they don't like that at all

🕊️ - Pluto aspecting Sun natives are so mesmerizing, they have such beautiful eyes and energy. They are def powerful and full of potential

🕊️ - Natives with Sun in the 1st/3rd and 5th house are people who really know how to enjoy life, with them life is full of surprises

🕊️ - Leo Venus/Mars/Rising = Literally queen vibes. I love this aura so much. You are full of power. Love, Confidence. Everything is inside you

🕊️ - Leo and Libra Moons will always bring this warm energy in the room. They are the type of people who makes everyone to laugh and feel better

🕊️ - What is not talked enough in Tumblr about the Neptune - Moon or Neptune - Ascendant aspects is that someone with such aspects can be very sensibilie to reactions and to people. And nothing wrong about being sensible, it shows how pure you are

🕊️ - Venus in the 9th house/Venus at Sag Degrees [9°, 21°] or Venus in Sagittarius can have a very curvy body, their thighs can be the most prominent/visible part of their body and their attractive alluring body making others just to want them even more

🕊️ - Sun - Ascendant harmonious aspects tend to be often in the spotlight because of their warm and shinning energy, a lot of people like to be around them because of their energy makes everyone to smile

ღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღ

!! Royal Observations Notes just arrived !!😍🕊️

She, queen of the kings, broken her cage, threw out the keys

She will be the warrior of North and Southern Seas

I honestly love the Royal themes because they bring so much inspiration to my aesthetics 🕊️ Hope you are all doing good with the people you love 💕 have a good day 💕

ღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღღ

- Harmoonix 2023

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someaholic · 9 months ago

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OMG OMG OMG

Some more villain one piece au~

@bongitsluffy thank you for the idea~ >♡<

#HOLY SHIT #YES YES YES #THANK YOU I LOVE THE STYLE SO MUCH I WANNA DRAW THEMMMMM SJJSJSJSJS #can we pretty please make the lore together i like making evil stuff 🙏#the way you drew zoro is soooo chewy #i love it so much you dot understand #this is amazing im dying #i cant wait to see cannibalisim!!!#imagine ussop is the only normal kne and he has crazy doc chopper give him mental stability meds #and also ceazy doc chopper tests his highly experimental drugs on him #mmmm so many ideas #ace is sad to see what happened to luffy . ASL angst hwre we come!#omg garp would be devastated #i love it here #anyways #i love this i will be back for seconds!!!

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onriyuview · 3 months ago

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sweet

genre: smut, 18+ mdni

wc: 1.9k

summary: yushi’s first time with you means letting you tell him what to do, resulting in the sweetest softest sex with the sweetest softest boyfriend of yours

cw: inexperienced/virgin bf!yushi, established relationship, slight corruption, oral (f receiving), fingering, mentions of kissing and making out, protected pinv sex (wrap it pls), hair pulling (m receiving), sweet/dirty talk, eye contact, pet names (baby, pretty girl)

a/n: requested here and here! i love yushi so much i had to write something self indulgent and sweet for him… sorry this took so long, i wanted it to be perfect °՞(ᗒᗣᗕ;)՞°

your boyfriend yushi isn’t experienced in bed, but he has you to guide him. and lucky for you, he’s always been a fast learner.

you’re the source of a lot of his firsts— his first kiss, his first time dry humping, his first makeout session. he loves experiencing firsts with you, and lucky for him, today’s the day he gets to eat you out and fuck you.

the moment he finally settles between your legs, he thinks he’s dreaming. he’s never seen pussy with his own eyes, let alone this close to his face. just your scent alone sends blood rushing to both his head and his cock.

“you wanna taste me, baby?” you ask, smiling down at him. he nods shyly, his hands planted on your hips as he’s staring up at you from where he’s laying eye-level with your bare heat. “go ahead then.”

he kitten licks at you, unsure of where to place his tongue. he curiously brings a hand up to spread your lips apart, his eyes widening at the sight in front of him.

the first swipe of his flattened tongue on your folds has his eyes shutting, a soft moan escaping his lips at the sweet tang. he’s never tasted anything like you, but he knows he could (and will gladly) get used to it.

he starts moving with more confidence, your reactions and noises egging him on and letting him know he’s doing a good job at pleasuring you. he figures out you like it when he sucks on your clit the most, but you give him a good response when he fucks his tongue in your hole too.

the longer yushi’s between your legs, the more he realizes how responsive and vocal you are. he quickly goes from uncertain of how to touch you to fixated on hitting all the right spots in order to hear your sweet words of praise fall upon his ears.

you feel like you’re floating, your eyes squeezing shut and your head falling back against your pillow with every new sensation your boyfriend gives you.

your hands fly to his hair, tugging gently and bucking your hips up to grind your heat against his face, a whine leaving you when he fucks his tongue into you just right. this only makes him dig his own hips into the mattress, rutting into it to relieve the ache in his cock from being so turned on at every sound you make.

yushi’s mouth is attached to your pussy like a magnet, and he only pulls away to replace his tongue with his thumb at your clit to ask if he’s doing a good job.

“does it feel good? can you tell me what else to do? jus’ wanna make you feel good,” he asks between the kisses he places around your heat, in which you respond with raspy hums and frantic nods to reassure him he’s doing amazing.

“you can put a finger in me, baby,” you mumble to him, one of your hands fisting at the sheets as you bite your lip at the sight of your arousal coating the bottom half of his face.

he’s nodding at your words as he experimentally pushes the tip of his pointer finger in your weeping hole, his eyes focusing in on the way you suck his finger in.

he’s moaning with you as his hips rut down on the bed again, his eyes lifting back up to yours as he more confidently starts to thrust his finger in and out of you.

“add another one f’ me,” you encourage him after a bit, your cheeks getting warmer as you realize he’s getting himself off while eating you out. “and you can suck on my clit at the same ti-” you’re cut off by your own moan as his mouth reattaches itself to your sensitive bud once more, not needing to be told twice.

your boyfriend gets ahead of himself, not caring to stop his ministrations on your hole and your clit, ignoring your cries for him to slow down because all he wanted to do was make you cum so bad.

your orgasm hits you like a truck, the band in your lower belly snapping so hard it has your body writhing and your hands tugging at his hair, your body not knowing if you wanted him to keep going because it felt so good or stop because you were starting to get overstimulated.

he laps up every last drop of your cum so it doesn’t go to waste, only opening his eyes to look at you when you’ve seemingly come down from the high he helped you ride out with more shallow thrusts of his fingers and softer kitten licks at your clit.

“yushi,” you whine, pulling him up to you by his hair. “you did so good for me,” you praise him as a blush makes its way across his cheeks all the way to his ears. “where’d you learn how to do all that? are you sure this was your first time?”

“sorry,” he blushes. “you just tasted so good i couldn’t help it…” he admits meekly, letting you cover his face in soft kisses. you finally notice the weight of his dick against your thigh and you frown at him.

“you wanna fuck me now? is that what you want?” you ask, the sweet tone of your voice contrasting your words, still holding his face in your hands. he nods as best as he can, his big pleading eyes staring down at you as his cheeks flush even brighter than before.

reaching over to your nightstand, he grabs the box of condoms from the drawer. still asking himself if this was a dream, he fumbles around with one of the foil packets, nearly dropping it out of nervousness before finally tearing it open.

he can feel your eyes on him, making him blush in embarrassment, and turns away to give his aching length a few more pumps before rolling the latex on himself.

yushi then fixes his attention back on your still-weeping pussy, using his fingers to spread the mixture of your arousal and his spit around. he carefully inserts his pointer finger, reveling at your reaction— your furrowed brows and the hiss escaping your lips making him bite his own.

“don’t tease,” you pout at him, hands reaching out for him to come toward you.

he slots himself between your legs, grabbing the base of his cock and lining himself up with your hole, disregarding your request of not teasing and running the head of his dick along your folds which makes you buck your hips up toward him and bite your lip in anticipation.

“baby please,” you plead, making him look up at you. his infamous soft smile makes its way to his lips as he looks at your desperate face.

“i got you pretty girl,” he blushes, surprising even himself at his confidence and choice of words before pushing himself into you.

you both moan at the initial feeling of him sinking into your warmth, the stretch of your walls sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head and yushi’s bottom lip between his teeth.

it was better than yushi could even imagine. fingering you in preparation only gave him a taste of what your pussy would feel like wrapped around his cock.

your boyfriend’s eyes flicker between your eyes and where the two of you connect, his jaw slack in awe of how you look sucking him in.

“b-baby,” he stutters out. “feels s’good ohmygod,” blabbering at how impossibly tight you are around him, his head dropping into your neck as he pushes himself further.

your hisses of discomfort turn into moans of pleasure as he finally buries his member fully inside of you, your eyes losing focus at the feeling of being so full of him. he lets out a groan, your warm and snug walls being entirely way too much for him.

“are you okay, baby?” yushi’s asking as he pulls away from your neck, eyes scanning your face and kissing the worried wrinkles of your furrowed brows. “please can i move?” he’s almost whimpering, not entirely sure if he’ll be able to last once he starts thrusting.

“mhm,” you hum, nodding and pulling him into a kiss and moaning into his mouth at the friction of his cock dragging along your walls. your reaction has him picking up the pace, desperate to get more out of you.

your pussy’s sucking him in and it makes his head spin, pulling away from the kiss as heavy pants leave his mouth at the delicious friction against his cock, finally giving his throbbing member some relief.

“how are you so- fuck. s-so tight and warm?” yushi asks shakily in awe, his breath uneven and shallow.

his head dips once more, his mouth latching onto your nipple as he distracts himself from cumming too quickly. this only makes you unconsciously clench around him and he moans, his mouth not daring to leave your skin.

“gonna cum if you keep doing that,” he whines against your nipple.

the stimulation against your tits sends your back arching, pushing them further into his mouth. knowing he was close, your hand moves down to rub at your clit in time with his thrusts.

“yeah? you gonna cum for me baby?” you ask sweetly, encouraging your boyfriend, not wanting to draw out his orgasm for too long because you know how nervous he’s been this whole time.

“mhm,” he whimpers as he releases your nipple from his mouth, his head going back to bury into the crook of your neck, his quick breaths hot against the skin there.

his hips are stuttering and his thrusts have long lost their rhythm at this point, your boyfriend messily grinding against you now.

“yushi,” you breathe out, pulling him up and closer to you with your free hand. his eyes are almost glazed over, the thoughts behind them fuzzy as he continues to clumsily fuck you. “kiss me.”

he complies without hesitation, crashing his lips onto yours sloppily. your teeth are bumping, tongues hastily brushing against one another, moans getting lost in each other’s mouths as you both cum.

yushi’s hips still as he fills the condom, your pulsing walls helping to milk him through his orgasm.

as you both catch your breath, he moves to pull out of you, the loss of contact making you hiss as he groans.

he removes the rubber and ties it, tossing it in the trash before collapsing and putting his full body weight on you, making you complain in the form of a whine.

“you’re all sweaty,” you scrunch your nose at the feeling of warm and sweaty skin-to-skin with your boyfriend, but don’t do anything to stop him.

he pulls his head back slightly, looking at you before kissing your lips softly once, then scatters more kisses all over your face.

he stops abruptly, looking at you with a serious face. your eyes widen in confusion, unsure of what his next words would be.

“you did cum… right?” he asks, raising an eyebrow skeptically and making you giggle.

“yes baby, i did. you did a great job,” you reassure him before reciprocating his kisses, not being able to help the grin that spreads across your face as he sighs in relief, finally meeting you in another sugary sweet kiss.

tags: @rikupid @sminiac @be-my-sunrise ♡

a/n: thank you to my baes @rikupid and @hazyhae for beta reading mwah ily ♡

#jae writes ─‎♡₊˚#yushi x reader #tokuno yushi x reader #yushi smut #tokuno yushi smut #yushi hard hours #tokuno yushi hard hours #yushi imagines #tokuno yushi imagines #yushi scenarios #tokuno yushi scenarios #nct wish yushi #nct wish yushi smut #nct wish x reader #nct wish yushi hard hours #nct wish hard hours #nct wish smut

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 1 year ago

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Romantic Synastry - Valentine's Day Edition. Pt. 1

Venus/Pluto Synastry - A connection that can be so intense it will knock the pants off of you. Incredibly deep, and penetrating, and could potentially bring out the darkside in both of you. Transformative experiences, out of the body type. Sex together can be a very addictive experience, you won't know what to do without it.

Venus/Lilith Synastry - Hot & Heavy. Experimentive and can be very adventurous in the way you deal with love. The energy between the two of you could arouse the subconscious in a way that could free you from societal beliefs, making waves for your relationship to take ship the way it wants. Sex here can be rather taboo for a while, if the energy has been feeling lack luster its as if you need newer interactions with each other. But in a way that'll knock your boots off ;)

Sun/Moon Synastry - A beautiful bond. A new snuggly energy where you guys are gentle to each other. You guys tend to understand when one of you is in one of those moods, and typically you guys together are like two peas in a pod. Very healing, emotional energy here.

Mars/Lilith Synastry - The sex here is untamable and hot!!! It's too much for y'all to handle sometimes. The attraction levels are thru the roof. You guys can't wait to get your hands on each other. Passionate sex, love affairs can be a little chaotic, but you'll like it ;)

Moon/Mars Synastry - Baby making love, just enough to keep the passion going. Spiritual sex, very committed and connected to devoting to each other through a passionate, tantric type of love. Can fuss and fight and get back into the bedroom to make it alright.

Sun/Mars Synastry - A passionate over flow of love, coming thru the guise of movement, motivation and physical activity. You guys NEED to stay active or else it won't work. The energy between you two is full of energy and vigor. You keep hope alive by letting the energy between you two over flow because it's constant attraction that won't burn out, unless you do.

Jupiter/Venus Synastry - The love that just keeps on giving. You guys connection can be a beautiful love where you guys give/receive to each other that meets the interest of one another. The jupiter person can be the generous one while the Venus is the receiver. This is the type of love where dating and creativity go hand and hand. It's a love most people want and post onto their vision board.

Venus/Asc - The love of your dreams. The dream girl. The dream boy. The one you've been crushing on. You guys get along pretty well, and the energy between the two can last as long as the venus is giving the asc person all the lovin! The asc person takes in the energy and for the most part can you a lil something back if you're ready ;) Match made in heaven, could be a love at first sight type of energy to the connection.

Mercury/Sun Synastry - Can talk ya head off for hours. Very friendly, compassionate, gentle. Amazing connection to get your thoughts off. Compared to other connections, this is the one you want if you want to be friends AND lovers. The mercury person adores the energy of the sun individual, and the sun person gets to relieve their self expression thru the power of words which the mercury person favors. Authentic attraction to each other.

#astrology thoughts #tropical astrology #astrology theories #astrology #astrology observations #deja's observations #romantic synastry

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in-case-of-grace · 6 months ago

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Introducing PAGERS: a single page TTRPG book club!

There's an art to the single page TTRPG that can often go unseen. How do you fit an engaging experience into just 1 mere page? How do you explain potentially complex mechanics with a constraint like this? What of layout, art, and graphic design?

With so many amazing single-page TTRPGs out there, your potential favorites may be waiting around hidden corners. From classic dungeon crawlers, one-size-fits-all mini-systems, and experimental single-mechanic games, to thoughtful journaling games, story games, and experimental art games— there's so much to love!

The goal of PAGERS is to explore and enjoy these wonderful games together, to find new games you may have missed, to be inspired, and to discuss just what makes for an engaging tabletop game.

For now, we're aiming to play a new game once a month, with open nominations and voting to pick each of them! We'll be starting nominations for our first game shortly!

This book club is adults only because it's Just Easier To Manage, so if you're an adult— take a page, and join our discord here!

#indie ttrpg #ttrpg #book club #incaseofgrace #pagers

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arieslost · 10 months ago

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cherry blossoms | ls2

summary: you have a meet cute in japan.

word count: 1,046

masterlist — join my tag list here!

this one is for my sweet mimi @lightsoutletsgo <33 thank you for coming up with this incredible concept, i loved writing it!!

being in japan during the springtime was always a magical experience, and it was owed primarily to the beautiful abundance of cherry blossoms. when the 2024 season calendar was announced and you saw that the japanese grand prix would be held during the spring, you wasted no time in procuring tickets and a flight to the country.

the paddock is absolutely stunning this time of year, you realized as you walk through it after qualifying. the teams were either debriefing or preoccupied with working in their garages, so the paddock itself was relatively clear, save for the blossoms that were falling out of the trees and lining the ground in brilliant pink. it’s almost overwhelming, but you and your camera can’t get enough of it.

you wouldn’t call yourself a professional by any means, but taking pictures has always been a fun hobby for you, and the vibrant japanese setting was the perfect subject matter for photos.

you were fully engrossed in your task, taking shots of the blossoms at multiple angles, even getting some action shots of blossoms falling through the air to rest on the ground. the paddock was much quieter than usual, and it was nice to only really hear the breeze against the sound of muted, far off conversation. you could even feel some of the stray blossoms brushing the top of your head and your shoulders. it was peaceful above anything else, and you weren’t bothered by it, gazing intently through your camera’s viewfinder as you walked along the paddock.

in retrospect, you probably should have been paying better attention to your surroundings. one moment you were adjusting where you stood to get a better focus on a specific blossom that you noticed, and the next you were colliding with something warm and solid.

“i’m so sorry— is your camera okay?!”

through the viewfinder, your eye focused on what (or who, rather) you’d bumped into. slowly, you lowered the camera so you could look directly at him. he was blond, and tall, and damn was he cute.

“yeah… it’s fine. are you okay?”

without saying anything in response, he reached out and plucked a stray blossom off of your shoulder that you hadn’t even taken note of. you looked down for a moment, overwhelmed with the gentleness of his touch, and missed him slipping the blossom into his pocket.

“thanks,” you said quietly.

“no problem. and i’m fine too,” he stretched out a hand to you. “i’m logan.”

“oh, right, of course! logan sargeant!” you exclaimed before feeling your cheeks heat up. “i mean… something less weird.”

he laughed. “something like your name?”

“right,” you laughed as well, introducing yourself. “i’m sorry for not paying attention. i just haven’t been here in the springtime in so long, i forgot how beautiful it was.”

“this is my first time here in the spring,” he shared, looking almost shy as he met your eyes. “but you’re right, it’s beautiful.”

“how was quali for you?” you asked, fiddling with the settings on your camera to hopefully still be able to get the photo you wanted.

“could’ve been better.” he shrugged, watching you lift your camera up to the trees. “getting good pictures?”

“amazing pictures,” you nodded, taking a few shots. “here, i’ll show you!”

enthusiastically, you held the camera out to him and started going through the pictures you’d taken throughout the day. eventually, you got back to the experimental ones you’d taken of a few cars on the track.

“hey, that’s me!” logan said suddenly, stopping you when the screen showcased the blue williams with the number 2 on it. “that’s incredible. you have a great eye.”

“hire me.” you said, mostly joking, but you could almost see the cogs turning in his head as he contemplated it.

“listen, i have to run, but… do you think i could get your number? i want to take you out. and maybe you can show me some more of your pictures.” he rubbed the back of his neck, watching you intently as you considered his offer.

“i think i’d like that a lot.” you replied with a smile, biting your lip to stifle the giggle that nearly escaped when he eagerly grabbed for his phone.

two years later, when you’re living with him and you turn over to grab your phone from the nightstand, you see a cherry blossom, pressed and proudly displayed on the wood surface. your whole body grows warm with affection when you feel logan’s arms around you, pulling you back into his soft embrace.

“logan,” you admonish quietly when he refuses to let you reach your hand out for the flower.

“stay,” he grumbles in response, brushing his lips against your shoulder.

“how long have you had this?” you ask, managing to grab the blossom before he pulls you further into him.

“hmm?” his eyes blink open and he looks at you with bleary confusion. “i love you, but why are you trying to wake me up right now?”

“it looks like you’ve had it for a while,” you continue, turning the blossom around in your hand.

“oh, that.” he lifts his head, watching as you inspect it. “i’ve had that since the day i met you.”

your jaw drops. “what?”

“yeah, it was on your shoulder when you bumped into me.” he explains easily. “just sitting there like it belonged there. i had it pressed so i’d always have a reminder of that pretty girl i met in suzuka, just incase i never saw you again.”

well. you weren’t expecting to tear up so early in the morning, but you’re still learning that logan sargeant is full of surprises.

“i love you,” you whisper, overcome with emotion as you set the blossom back on the nightstand.

“i love you so much,” he whispers back, leaving a loving kiss on your cheek. “even though you woke me up.”

“okay,” you giggle, putting a hand on his face and forcing his eyes shut. “let’s go back to bed then, sleeping beauty.”

“don’t need to tell me twice,” he hums happily, snuggling close to you and sighing in content.

you stay awake for a little while longer, admiring the pressed flower and thinking of how pretty a spring wedding would be in suzuka.

note: apologies if this feels rushed. i’m once again drowning in schoolwork as the semester ends this month 🙃 pray for me

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever @likedbygaslyy @vintagefucksstuff @piastorys @jisungstuff

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potatomountain · 27 days ago

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The Other Zone

🌀Pairing: Yunho x fem!reader (feat. other idols) 🌀WC: 13,431 🌀AU: multiverse, ?? to lovers, with some OZ, stranger things, and beauty and the beast dynamics 🌀Genre: phycological thriller, dark romance 🌀Summary: With barely an identity, and a lot of missing time, you signed your life away for answers. Just to untangle a web of mystery between this world, and another, second guessing who is the villain, and who is the hero, wondering if you could possibly make it right somehow. 🌀Warnings: cnc/dubcon, graphic depictions of mutilation and murder, implications of experiments, drugs, one stab, bloody scenes. Smut warnings: huge cock Yunho, mxm and mentions of poly, mutual masturabation. Fingering, choking, slight clit slapping, dacryphilia, slight blood play, squirting, creampie, stomach bulge, strength play, angryish sex 🌀AN: for the YOTV: Year of the Snake collab hosted by @sanjoongie. ngl not as dark as i wanted but my favorite horror genre is the one where its just one big puzzle to figure out filled with all sorts of twists and turns. It's a genre I want to be good in, thus why I wanted to go this route. 🌀Big thanks to Sangjoongie for inviting me to this collab and betaing for half of it. And a big thanks to @bunnliix for beta! honorary tags of @adelusionforyourthoughts and @yourfatherlucifer and for the other amazing writers in the YOTV collab. You've all been a big help with this <3 Please read at your own risk. Minors/ageless blogs will be immediately blocked if you interact!

Signing away your life was perhaps the easiest decision you had ever made. No matter how many times you looked over the contract, it was pretty cut and dry and simple. An experimental test that had the potential to fix your biggest problems yet: Poverty, and the unexplained missing time in your memory.

For as long as you could remember, you had been alone. No family to support you, found alone in the slums and then put into foster care. There would be hours, days, sometimes weeks of missing time from your memory, which of course caused problems with the system as it made it hard to place you in a home.

Jobs were just as bad. You couldn’t exactly keep one if you weren’t conscious long enough to actually do it. How you managed here, in this pure white and far too bright laboratory, was beyond you, but you were being fed and had a bed to sleep on so you didn’t complain too much.

Like every other time you expected them to kick you out or look at you like you were some monster, but instead they handed you this massive contract and let you read it over.

In exchange for more money than you thought you could ever spend, you signed away your rights and bodily anatomy to the lab so that they could potentially find out the explanation for your missing time. What really sold you, is when you were told that you weren’t the first one they had in custody with an eerily similar condition.

Escorted back to the padded room, you briefly wondered what was going to happen next. They didn’t say what the experimentation was outside of drugs and tests to see how they affect you, so the worst was probably side effects? Whatever it was, you thought it would be better than living on the streets, doing regrettable things just to get by.

Here you at least had three meals a day, a bed, showers, and clean clothes. They cut your hair pretty short, but you didn’t mind, it was starting to get matted anyways. Your hands and feet felt so soft. It felt nice, and you never thought you would get to such a point in your life.

You often wondered why even try after all, but there was something nagging in your brain that you had to survive; that you had to live. It was the only reason you never thought of taking your own life.

Was this why? Did some part of you just know things would turn around?

Later you were moved to a lower level of the lab, behind more security to a whole wing with slightly bigger bedrooms, still white and padded, but you weren’t alone in the wing either. There was staff, and then patients.

People like you.

Every single other patient was a male, something like recognition flashing in their eyes as you passed. Some bowed their heads, others smiled, and you mirrored their greetings as if it was the most natural thing to do. Not that you knew why, confusion settling on their features, and yours, after the act. It only lasted a moment, awe dashing away the thoughts as you were brought to a decent rec room with board games and other activities in the room. There was a TV and games but they seemed to be offline.

Right away, one of the conditions was being secluded from the outside world as a way to ensure nothing leaked out before its time. It was an experiment, so that was understandable. Even without wifi or cable, the selection of recreational games and hobbies that were nicely spaced apart had you giddy.

“Make yourself comfortable and introduce yourself to a few others. There are about a dozen others, the only rule is no talk of your personal outside life. Like past family, or relationships, no names given. Understood?” The doctor - at least you think he was a doctor, maybe an orderly - told you.

“Yes, sir.” You nodded once more, turning back to the remaining others in the room. You had passed about four or five, and there were just as many here in the room now, some you had passed joining you. They all had their things that they gravitated to, but you didn’t move at first.

It wasn’t until the sound of a piano and low humming grabbed your attention that you stepped further into the room. Whatever tune the person played, it was familiar, and it drew you over like a moth to the burning flame.

He stopped playing when you got close enough, for a moment frozen before he suddenly leaned back far enough he was looking up at you upside down, brown tufts of unkempt hair hanging down to expose his face. Wild, almost insane eyes stared up at you, matched with an unhinged grin with perfect teeth.

“Did you like that?” He asked in a singsong voice, fingers still paused on the keyboard.

If you had sense, you would realize the man was insane. He had cloth wrapped around his wrists, dried blood on them and broken painted nails that also had dried blood under them. His neck had a similar white cloth, tied in a big bow that somehow made him look boyish.

Boyish and mad, but not an ounce of a threat.

“I did. What’s the song?” You hummed out, for the life of you unable to name it.

He shrugged casually, sitting up and rolling his dainty shoulders back, making them seem wider than they were a moment ago. “Can’t remember. Only the tune.” He started playing it again, singing it a bit louder in a beautiful voice that just drew you in.

You stepped closer, just to have someone else suddenly grab your wrist and yank you away. Turning with a gasp, you stared up at another patient, black hair past his sharp jaw, fierce eyes staring you down a curved nose that was oddly beautiful. “Don’t get too close to Hongjoong, He’s as mad as they come.”

“As if you’re any better, Wooyoung.” The man on the piano, Hongjoong, sang back followed by a laugh that could only be described as joyful insanity. “No sanity for me, no love for you~~” His fingers danced against the plastic keys of the keyboard, playing a different tune with a heavier build and faster tempo. “All who come must leave something behind.”

Wooyoung scoffed, dropping your hand with a sneer. “Just don’t encourage him. He’s fucking annoying.” He grumbled out, flipping off the man on the piano and then sauntering elsewhere to leave you be.

They were both odd, but your whole life had been odd so it didn’t necessarily bother you.

In fact, each of the other patients you met had something odd about them. One had a strong fear of water to the point he was sedated regularly to be bathed and cared for. Another was apparently so afraid of everything that he never left his room. There was a man who didn’t talk, and another who was convinced he was a cat, but otherwise not a single one seemed dangerous, all opening up to you easily in the days that passed.

You were beginning to worry about the experiment after the first week, only taking the medicine they asked for just before bed, and then having to tell an orderly the date the next day. So far, you had no missing time, nor any weird side effects.

Not until the second week.

It was just a dream, at least you told yourself. You were staring up at an oddly colored sky that was a swirl of colors, but when you sat up from the hard ground beneath you, your surroundings seemed desolate. Destroyed buildings that looked like they were an array of colors and materials before, now just piles of rubble. A red brick road barely visible under the rubble a few feet from you, and the thick forest around you seemed devoid of life, or leaves.

It was a colorful land turned wasteland, and for some reason, your chest was tight at the sight.

Slowly you pushed yourself up from the dirt, stepping onto the uneven road and turning your head to look down both paths in a debate of which way to take. You could barely make out a city in the distance to your right, so that’s where you would go. Maybe there was life there? Answers to why this place was so debauched?

Maybe it could answer why you needed answers to begin with, heading down the road with careful steps. It felt like hours walking, the landscape devoid of sound as it was of life, only the rubble and dried twigs snapping under your bare feet could be heard. On occasion you stepped just wrong on something that had you wincing in pain, and by the time the forest became less dense and more buildings were inside, the soles of your feet felt scrapped up and were throbbing.

Odd to feel pain from a dream, you mused, but perhaps more odd that you didn’t question it much.

Even once in the center of the torn town, there was still no life. No hum of electricity or fires, no light other than the seeming forever setting sun in the distance. Nothing.

With a sigh you sat down on the edge of a water fountain with no water, running your hands over the worn stone and marveling at the feeling on your fingertips. It truly felt real. But that just made it even more disturbing. If such a desolate place was real, then the horrors that made it so were as well.

You thought about finding a bed to lay down in, since despite the long trek you didn’t feel hunger but you felt exhaustion. There was also an overwhelming loneliness that sat in your chest, which made you want to leave this place sooner as if it was the cause of it.

Until you heard movement.

Sitting up straight you looked around, scanning for where the noise came from. Your eyes widened when they landed on another figure. A familiar figure.

Hongjoong grinned as he saw you, giggling in that familiar way you knew but there was something different about him: almost sane.

“You’re here? Oh you are here!” Laughing louder he rushed over to you, still grinning wide. “Hm, I wonder what’s different about you. Here we have what we lost, you know.”

“Well if you have your sanity, it doesn’t seem like it.” You let out a scoff, but overall were glad to see him. “Are you going to talk in riddles again or can you explain to me where I am? Is it a dream? It doesn’t feel like a dream."

He sat down next to you, quiet as he looked around at what once had been a beautiful town no doubt. “I don’t know where here is, but I know it’s not the lab. It’s not that world. I can’t remember the name, just a feeling it was home at some point. I’ve met Wooyoung here before, but he was different. He doesn’t remember when he wakes. Neither do the others. It’s just missing time.”

With a frown, you digested his words. It sounded insane, and the man was insane, so why should you believe him? Yet you did. You believed him completely. “So, the missing time in my memory, was it because I was mentally here?”

“Bingo!” He beamed over at you. “If you pay attention to the white coats, you’ll hear them talk about dream walking. That’s what they call this, what we do.”

Dream walking? That didn’t explain what this place was, or why you seemed tied to it, but you didn’t think Hongjoong would have the answer. “What if I forget this when I wake up?” “Good question. Do you want to wake up now?”

You still felt inexplicably sleepy, and despite accepting the information he had given, it still felt like so much. So much emotion and knowledge you weren’t sure how to process it. Not to mention the need to confirm it. “Yes, I want to wake up.”

“Then… Do you trust me?”

Did you? That was another good question. You never trusted anyone in your life, and he was an unpredictable man in the real world, which seemed to transfer to this realm as well. And yet, you found yourself nodding. “I think so?”

He reached out, taking your hand in his and running his thumb over the center of your palm. “I apologize for this then.”

Before you could question, you were screaming out in pain, glancing down at the piece of glass now embedded in your palm. Blood gushed out, head spinning as you took note that his hand was bleeding as well from the grip he had on the other edge, blood trickling down until-

You sat up screaming and holding your hand to your chest, tears running freely as panic spiked through you. Pain radiated up your arm to your chest, and in your panicked state you noticed blood. Blood oozed from the piece of dirty glass in your hand, dripping onto the white gown you wore, and the bed beneath that looked as if it had been tossed through the dirt.

The door to the room burst open at your cries, two orderlies and a nurse rushing to your side. Through your tears you recognized Jongin at the door, one of the doctors that checked in on you.

Whether it was because of the adrenaline coursing through your veins as the nurse and orderlies held you down, or Hongjoong’s actions in the dream making you more alert, you heard Jongin even through the chaos as he spoke into a small device.

“It happened, patient seventeen experienced it. And they brought back an object.”

Sobbing out, you turned your attention to the glass the nurse was examining, knowing just what he meant. You brought an object from a dream back with you. How was that even possible?

Things were vastly different after that. You saw the scientists and doctors more than you saw the others like you. Their reactions were a mixture of excitement and curiosity, but some seemed quite apprehensive of you, reluctant to even touch you.

Sitting on the new bed you were brought to, Doctor Junmyeon sat in the seat across from you, taking notes on a notepad as they tried not to let electronics in this room. You were curious about what happened to Hongjoong, because while you hadn’t told them it was him that had stabbed you with the glass, you were worried his hand had been injured just like yours and they knew anyway.

If they did, would they isolate him like they did you? Even if he had stabbed you, you didn’t want that. He was the first real connection you had to the other plane.

“Alright Seventeen, we’re going to try to induce you into that state tonight, is that alright?”

While you swore you had returned to the other plane since you were moved here, unlike the time Hongjoong stabbed you, you couldn’t remember it. So you had no idea if you met any of the others there or so forth. “If I do… what if I don’t remember?” You asked hesitantly, playing with the worn out bandage around your hand. After two weeks it was mostly healed, but there were fresh scraps on the bottoms of your feet every few days. That was how you assumed you were over there.

The man smiled, playing up the charm to ease your nerves as he leaned over and gently placed a hand over yours to stop you from agitating the wound. “That’s alright. This is just a test to see if you can be sent over with the drugs we give you. Is that alright?”

Blushing at the small contact and staring at his thumb brushing over your knuckles, you nodded. “Yes, sir.” Doctor Kim Junmyeon was the head Doctor here at the facility and since your incident, he had been personally coming to see you and explain the tests they were doing. The medication they often gave you knocked you out, but there had been times it was at the cost of your stomach contents first. Doctor Jongin usually assisted him, and then the orderly Kim Minseok helped you with your meds. They seemed nicer than the Doctor Minho that had been in charge of you before, dismissing all of your questions with a sneer.

So you trusted them as you were laid down moments later, the heat turned up in the room to make up for the lack of blanket and mimic the humid atmosphere you had told them you remembered before. Doctor Junmyeon was the one to personally inject the blue medicine into your arm, a new one, before brushing your hair out of your face.

“I know you won’t let me down-” You were already falling asleep, but you swore he said your actual name.

You knew this time was going to be different since you did find yourself conscious in the other zone. Before, things went black and the next thing you remembered was waking up. You double, then triple check that you were indeed fully awake and aware, taking a few slaps to the face just to be sure.

Vividly, you remembered the fountain where Hongjoong had stabbed you, but this time it was nowhere in sight. You weren’t outside either though, instead staring at the highest ceiling you thought possible, the top so far up, it was dark, but you knew it was pointed, considering the angled ceiling you could see. Was it just that dark?

It was also intact, unlike all of the buildings you had seen before. Vaguely, you remembered a destroyed city past the forest, but there had been a tower or two that was still standing tall. Were you there now? Did you make it to the city in the time you could not recall.

Slowly you sat up, palm against the blankets that were beneath you: dusty but they were blankets.

Had you made a bed the last time? Was that how you left, laying down and sleeping? By why here, in this tower?

One glance around was enough of an answer, this place was tidy and intact, only a pile or two of ruin but there were actual lights on the walls and less debris dust than even that small town. And… running water.

Your eyes fixated on the faucet pouring water into what looked like a roman bath, steam bellowing from the hot water but it didn’t hide the figure there. Well, plural figures.

They were across from each other, one sitting on the edge, their back facing you but you could see their legs spread and a hand between them. The soft sounds coming from them gave you a good idea of just what they were doing, heat rushing up your neck. You couldn’t make out the expression of the man sitting in the water, leaning against the other edge, but he was clearly watching the show.

Why it was happening yards from your sleeping form was lost to you, unless you hadn’t physically been there a moment ago. Still, you couldn’t tear your eyes away, ignoring the foggy figure you couldn’t make out and instead the back of the tall man that was clearly playing with himself in a sexual manner.

“Can I come? Please?” The deep voice panted out and you had to stop yourself from responding: he wasn’t talking to you after all.

A low chuckle responded instead, bringing your attention right over to the other man. He moved through the water, stepping up so it was waist high instead, the fog clearing enough you could make out his features more as he approached the one stroking himself. “Of course you can, Princess, I could never deny you when you listen so well.” He placed his hands on either side of the man, similar in stature but radiating energy that made him seem bigger- more dominant. “I would taste you if I could, would you like that?”

“P-Please.” More breathless moans followed, getting higher in pitch as well as clear wet sounds of him stroking his cock faster. His head fell back, dark hair sticking to his forehead, eyes shut, but you could make out such plush lips and sharp cheekbones. You were captivated, lips parted just as his were, but he was the one who let out a silent cry, body tensing with his climax.

Pressing your thighs together, you tried to feel shame for seeing such an intimate thing. One you didn’t expect to see but still, the show wasn’t for you.

Mind reeling, you found yourself sitting up straighter when the larger man met your gaze, lips twisting up into a sly smirk. “So the little dove awakens? Apologies you couldn’t see the full show in all its glory.” He moved to the side of the other, pulling himself out of the water with ease, splashing a good deal of it onto the marble floor.

You quickly looked away so as not to see his lower half, covering your eyes as your mouth ran dry. Each of his steps closer rang in your ears, resulting in you shrinking into yourself even more. “I didn’t mean to watch-”

“It’s alright.” He cut you off, voice much closer now. “Open your eyes, I’m covered. I want to give you a better welcome.”

“Welcome?” Slowly you peeked through your fingers, breath hitching at just how close he was. Dark hair with blue tones, eyes that shone like sapphires, and soft features that had a warm charm to them; all of his features were accentuated by the water droplets running over golden skin and clinging to the soft strands. You didn’t dare to look lower.

“Mhmm. A welcome. Stand up, we can leave the room and give Mingi a moment to wash up and dress. Unless you are having trouble walking?”

At his words, your head swiveled to stare at the other man, watching as he slipped into the water and dipped down until his chin was level with it. He smiled over at you a bit sheepishly, but he didn’t look familiar. Just his name. Some of the other patients had mentioned that the one who kept himself in his room out of fear had been named Mingi.

Was this the same man?

“No, I can walk just fine. But um, where to?” There were several doorways but you couldn’t make out what was beyond them.

“How about that one over there?” He pointed to an arch just behind what looked to be a throne, then stood up and gave you space.

With a nod you climbed to your feet, feeling a bit wobbly as you did, but headed through the archway. The room you stepped into was blank, some odd looking rubble the only objects, leaving you a bit confused. You turned to look up at the man, just to gasp at how much he did tower over you.

“Keep walking.”

“But there isn’t anything here.” You protested, taking note he stopped a foot from you.

“Check again.” He laughed under his breath, a spark in his eyes as you momentarily pouted, ready to argue.

Any protest did die in your throat when you turned back and saw the rubble was replaced with plush sofas and decor, much like an inviting waiting room or a sitting area. Your mouth hung open, momentarily gaping like a fish before turning back to him to see him laughing behind his hand. “How did-”

“I can explain if you’ll take a seat.” His laughter nearly doubled as you rushed to the nearest sofa and plopped down, eyeing him intently. “That eager?”

With a nod, you didn’t dare tear your gaze from him. “I want answers.”

“I can give them to you. In time.” He stepped in front of you, the fluffy white robe shifting into a velvet blue suit with a fluff on the outer jacket that mirrored a flower. A white button up was under the blue vest, and the sparkling red shoes he wore were a bold and clashing statement. They held your attention the most, an odd familiarity to them. “You really don’t remember the last time you were awake here, little dove?”

The change in his tone had your gaze snapping back to his face, taken back by the sorrow you saw there. “Ah, no, I don’t. There was only one time I remember being here, though I assume I’ve been here a lot?”

He nodded, taking a seat across from you and crossing his leg while resting his hands on the arm rest, exuding power although he watched you with an immense fondness. It was almost alarming the way he looked at you as if you were some long lost friend he had missed. “I believe you have, though the first time I had seen you, in a long time, was the last time you were here. A shame, you grew up so much and yet I can’t hug you or show my joy that you are here. A bigger shame you don’t remember me at all.”

There was a tightness in your chest that agreed with him, but it still left so many questions. “What’s your name? So I can try and remember it next time?”

“Yunho."

“And what is this place, Yunho?”

“I have long forgotten the name of it. It’s like it lost its name when it started decaying.” He sighed, tearing your gaze away and with a wave of his hand, like a mirage, images appeared all around you, just floating in the air like bubbles. “This is what it once was, I remember that much.” The sights of bustling towns and vibrant structures and lands had emotion welling up in your throat. It was extremely familiar, like a place you had seen in your dreams so long ago. “And now it’s…” “Yes, now it’s an empty wasteland.” The images shifted to burnt forests and black wastelands with destroyed buildings. It looked like life was literally sucked out of the land. “The people all disappeared, for I remained. Some return, like you or Mingi in the other room, but rarely remember your times here."

“Does Mingi remember?”

“He does. He remembers me, but he says he has no memory of where he is outside of this place. Do you?” He waved the images away and turned to you, leaning forward on his elbows. “Do you know where you are when you sleep? Do you know where you go?”

Automatically your mouth opened to answer, but instead you frowned. “I… I do. But I don’t know if I should tell you.”

“Why not? Do you not trust me?”

“Quite frankly, I don’t know. I feel like I can, but I also feel like I can’t. You can wave your hand and make things, and the fact that I can be in two places, two worlds, is also terrifying.” You sank into the plush fabric beneath you, frowning at the hospital gown. “Could you… are you able to change what I’m wearing?”

“What an odd thing to ask.” He mused, but went quiet, cupping his chin in thought. “I can't, but I can create something for you to change into if you would like?”

You nodded without hesitation, standing up to do that just to get flustered at his soft laugh. “What? You offered.”

“I did, but do you want to change in front of me?”

“I-” something about the way he had said it made you think about what you witnessed in the bath, the show Mingi had put on for him. Those thoughts moved to you doing the same, which had your thighs pressing together. “Where can I change?”

He stood up once more, a snap of his fingers and a box with a pretty bow appeared on the table before you. “In here. I’ll go get Mingi.” He was walking out of the room with such long strides that he was out of sight before you could reply.

So you turned your attention to the box, undoing the silk bow and opening it up to find a neatly folded blue dress that matched the suit he wore. Elbow length flowy sleeves and a knee length skirt that once on fit your form almost perfectly. Snug but comfortable, and it made you feel prettier than the gown did.

You were sitting back down when they came back, Mingi also dressed in a blue velvet suit; you wondered if that was a personal preference for Yunho.

“Ah, it suits you.” Yunho commented as he took the same seat as before, Mingi sitting on the sofa to his right. Just like before, they didn’t touch, bringing up his earlier words.

“So you can’t touch us? Is that why he was- um-”

“Masturbating for him?” Mingi added on, smiling a bit bashfully but he met your gaze. “If Yunho touches me, I go away. Don’t know where-”

“But you do, right little Dove? Is Mingi in the other place as well?” Yunho added on when Mingi trailed off.

Slowly you nodded your head. “I believe so. I’ve heard his name, but I never saw him in person.”

“Then how do you know it’s me?” Mingi relaxed in the seat, completely at ease with the questioning. Considering the Mingi you knew of kept himself locked away out of fear, and that this one seemed the opposite of fearful, you couldn’t say it was the same man.

Still, you shrugged and pushed on. “There are… others there, that are like me, I'm told. The Mingi there is one of them. One of the others, I met there, and met here, so I’m just making an assumption.”

“Makes sense, all those I’ve met disappear when I touch them. Maybe because I am here, but they aren’t?” Yunho hums out, leaning back in his chair. “There is one I’ve met that seems to remember, if only a little, but he prefers wandering the lands. Maybe you met him? Hongjoong?”

Out of reflex, you rubbed at the bandage around your hand, Yunho’s eyes following. “Ah, you had that last time, but couldn’t remember how you got it. Do you remember now?”

“Yes. Hongjoong stabbed me with glass the last time I remember being here. It woke me up, but the glass…” Did you tell him it had gone with you?

By the look in his eye, you didn’t have too. “I see. Would you like me to scold him next time I see him?”

“No, it’s alright. Will you answer more of my questions instead?”

Yunho tilted his head in question, watching you carefully for a moment before he settled on what to say. “In time. I want to make sure you remember what I tell you. Why don’t you tell me about your trip where Hongjoong stabbed you instead. And I will tell you a story as well.”

Agreeing, you recanted step by step your journey the last time you could remember, leaving out the mention of white coats and just that Hongjoong called this dream walking. It still sounded insane to you, especially as it was becoming obvious this wasn’t a dream. You were, for whatever reason, awaking in a new world or dimension when you slept. Two halves of a whole.

The story that Yunho told you was of a young girl, beloved by those that lived in this castle. He told you that she had many friends, from a scarecrow to a lion, and they all adored her. But none as much as her closest friend, her confidant, a beast tied to the very dungeons of this castle.

When asked why it was relevant, he had quite a forlorn and sad expression as he fiddled with the velvet flower. “Because that’s where the story starts, with them.” Then he had changed the subject, saying it was about time the both of you went back and he would prepare a room.

Once left with Mingi, you had a question for him alone. “Why… why were you doing that with Yunho in the bath? Are you two lovers?”

He smiled wryly as he stood up. “Yes and no. This place can be quite lonely, so it gives him pleasure. He’s never touched or kissed me, only said the things he would like to do, and sometimes told me what to do myself. You’ll get there eventually with him, most of us do.”

It didn’t answer your question completely, but you didn’t press. You couldn’t imagine being the only one here, unable to touch anyone for years, not without them going poof the second there was a touch.

Yunho returned after that, leading you both to a large bedroom that did look lived in, with hues of blues and silvers and yellows that suited Yunho, but also felt familiar. Climbing onto the bed opposite Mingi, you watched the taller man lay down and fall asleep in seconds. But not you, you weren’t ready to go.

“Yunho?”

“Yes?”

Turning to him, you beckoned him closer. “I have a secret to tell you, lend me your ear?”

Hesitantly, he eyed you for a moment before leaning in and turning his head to listen even though you both knew there was no one around to hear anyways.

With your heart racing, you gripped the bed covers, making up your mind before acting. “Thank you, I look forward to the next time.” And quickly you pressed a kiss to his cheek. The soft touch of his flesh for only a second before he, and the room were gone.

You found yourself sitting up in the bed back at the lab, blinking away the sleep to find Doctor Junmyeon just inches from your face, a hand on his cheek. He looked more bewildered than you felt, the dip of his gaze drawing your own.

This time you brought back the velvet dress.

Of course the doctors were elated, turning a lot of their attention onto you. Twice a week they would induce the dream, and every time you woke up in the palace with Yunho.

While the doctors gave you tasks, you played the story game with Yunho each time, learning much about your dreaming abilities and the world Yunho was in.

For example, if you willingly slept in Yunho’s world, you didn’t remember the dream when you woke. So, you had gotten into the habit of touching Yunho to send yourself back. Afraid to tell the Doctor’s about Yunho just yet, you theorized with the man himself, deducing it took a shock to jolt you awake for the memory to stick, otherwise your brain forgets from the time you sleep to when you wake up. So a forceful awakening was needed.

Another thing you learned is that you couldn’t bring everything over, but it did go both ways. Food you couldn’t, but permanent objects like the glass or clothes you could, just no electronics.

From listening to Doctor Junmyeon and the others, you were the only one who could bring physical things too and from. And, while you didn’t divulge everything, you did say you remembered bits and pieces.

They let you interact with the others once more, though Hongjoong never brought it up in the lab, he did apologize profusely the next time you saw him at the castle. Finally you saw what he meant before, with Wooyoung being the biggest tell. Heartless he seemed in the lab, devoid of life with no emotion on his features, but in the castle? He had quickly become clingy and needy, his laughter ringing through the marble halls and professing his love for any who would hear it.

There were others, the contrast night and day, and you started leaving a journal in the dream world of the differences and your own notes.

This went on for weeks, from playing games with Yunho and finding out about the dream world, to doing your best for Doctor Junmyeon to earn praise and support without ever telling him about Yunho. You told him you met the others, earning even more time with them and joint experiments which just resulted in you spending time with them and Yunho.

The more you got to know the mystery man in dreamland, and the progress you made with the doctors, you were aware there was something dark behind the scenes.

Yunho told you stories of a girl, or sometimes stories about the others, and often you thought he was talking about them and yourself from a time before. Before the world became a wasteland. When you finally asked him how it became so, he would push it off, saying you didn’t need to know.

As for Doctor Junmyeon, you were sure he caught onto the existence of Yunho. He often asked if there was anyone else there, that wasn’t here. Or any animals. You should have known something was amiss when he tested to see if you could bring over a bird.

The fact it was a dove scared you. It scared you more to see Yunho’s reaction.

He stared at it as if he wanted to break it’s neck, an aura radiating from him that seemed to darken as the dove tried to flee from your hands. Thankfully Wooyoung had been there, convincing him that he didn’t need to harm it, so instead he created a cage and put it there.

“I need this alive for the next time.” You told him, attempting to placate Yunho yourself.

He snarled, collapsing onto the sofa in the little waiting room and stared you down with dark hooded eyes. “Convince me. There are doves here. Why did it have to be a dove?” Biting your lip, you glanced over at Wooyoung who was doting on the bird through the cage, all smiles. This version of him had grown on you, and perhaps how bold he was as well, considering what you did offer.

Wooyoung’s head turned so fast he might have given himself whiplash, eyes bulging out of his head at your suggestion. It did the trick though, Yunho was now leaning forward, elbows to knees and hands clasped before him, grinning with a look of lust you had seen on his features more than once when talking to you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t flirted, he had made it clear he found you attractive, admitting on more than one occasion he wished he could touch you, more than any of the others.

Perhaps you returned the sentiment, considering you just offered to touch yourself on his command if the bird was indeed there when you returned.

Wooyoung spent most of the time you were there teasing you for it, telling you that there was no going back now. You didn’t want to go back.

You knew you could fuck any of the other patients in the lab, you had seen them do it. Wooyoung himself would go to other rooms, and he would tell you it was in an attempt to feel something, while Hongjoong just enjoyed it. You could have either of them if you really wanted, and part of you did, but not as bad as you wanted Yunho.

The man you couldn’t touch.

The tension between you both was heavy for that visit and he made a show of sitting closer to you than he normally would. Inches from you rather than feet, distracting you from whatever Wooyoung was babbling on about now. At least until Wooyoung got quiet. You looked up to see he was gone, indicating he woke up.

Another thing you had noticed. When you slept here, your body disappeared. Mingi’s, Wooyoung’s, Hongjoong’s- everyone’s. Yours though, sometimes it stayed, appearing more like an apparition than a body according to Yunho.

Another way you were different.

“I’ll tell you something crucial this time, little dove.” Yunho drew your attention back to him, leaning against the back of the sofa with his shoulder. “I don’t have all of my memories, just the before, and after. Before with the girl and her friends, and an after with a wasteland I am alone in. It wasn’t always a wasteland, first the people were just… gone. But over the years I saw it, everything collapsing. The furthest lands, slowly aching this way. This tower, I can’t leave, I’ve tried. But it also remains mostly intact. I can shape it to my will, but not outside. You all say your versions over there have lost something, well it feels as if I have lost something too.”

Your heart hurt for him, unable to imagine the life he had here in this world. “Do you know where they went? The people?”

He shook his head, glancing over your head out one of the stained glass windows. “No. I only know that without them, this world isn’t complete, and neither am I.”

You sat in silence for some time after that, mulling his words over carefully. Without really saying goodbye you leaned back against the sofa on your side, mirroring his form and smiling up at him as you reached out. His own smiling visage disappeared from your sight as you had touched his hand, now looking over at Doctor Junmyeon and holding his hand.

The experiment was a success, the bird wasn’t with you, and when you returned, the dove was still alive.

As promised you gave Yunho an evening where you sprawled on the bed naked, touching yourself every which way he wanted you to. He made you whine and beg to come over and over, until you were so exhausted you had to beg to stop before you passed out.

To your surprise, he climbed into the bath with you, sitting across, and giving you an equally tantalizing sight. He stroked himself off, much like Mingi had done for him that first time you remembered him, but you remember thinking it might be a good thing he couldn’t actually fuck you. You had no idea how you would be able to take his massive size otherwise.

It was a shame you couldn’t curl up next time him afterwards though, stepping out of the water feeling touch starved despite his gaze eating you up for what had felt like hours. Perhaps you could curl up with Hongjoong once you returned? Just to feel that physical intimacy you so desperately needed now.

It had you in a rush to get back, changed into a new outfit you pulled the dove out of the cage and sat down in the same spot you had awoken. Yunho sat down across from you once more, watching you with such warmth you also didn’t want to leave. Wordlessly, you did, waking up with the dove alive in your arms.

Not that Junmyeon cared. He and the others seemed a bit more flustered over your damp hair, and the soaked bed from when you had supposedly cum over and over, soaking it, making sounds they all heard. As well as who they had been for.

“Who is Yunho?”

Reluctantly, you told Junmyeon everything. He seemed shocked at first, but then understanding as he held your hand and nodded along. But by the end of your tale, he looked concerned.

“Are you sure he hasn’t bewitched you somehow? He can manipulate the space in that tower, how sure are you that he can't manipulate you?”

The simple question filled you with doubt. There had been times you felt as if you couldn’t trust him, some instinct that said it was a bad idea. Was this why?

Junmyeon moved onto the bed next to you, now a clean one, and rested his hand on your knee as he muttered your name. “I think it’s time to tell you the truth about what we do here.”

You were silent for a moment before looking up at him. “You already know why we all have the missing time. You already know about the other side… don’t you?” You had figured it out a bit ago, Junmyeon didn’t seem shocked about your descriptions of the other place or that you saw the others there. In fact, he seemed elated you remembered it and could transfer items to and from. “You want to get to the other place… don’t you?”

With his nod, your heart sank. The whole reason you never asked was you wanted to be in denial; wanted the concern Junmyeon showed you to be because you were someone he really wanted to help. But you were a tool to him, to get to the other side.

All of you were.

“Yes but… I would like to tell you why. Will you listen?” He grabbed both of your hands but you pulled them away and stood up, unable to look at him.

“It’s a wasteland over there! Why would you want to go there? What does it have that-” You answered your own question, staring up at him with abject horror.

Yunho.

They wanted Yunho.

Junmyeon began to panic, standing up and shaking his head. “We do but not for the reasons you think! Listen, he isn’t an ally to you, he’s deceiving you.” As you shook your head vehemently, Junmyeon grabbed your biceps. “Think about it, you’re a smart girl. He can manifest physical things and change that tower to his will. Do you really think he can’t change the land? Or make you see things that aren’t true?”

“But he wouldn’t-”

“Let me prove it to you. Please.” There was a desperation to his tone now that had you wincing, tears brimming in your eyes. You didn’t think he was lying to you, it often felt like Yunho wasn’t telling you something.

“I… okay.”

He sighed with visible relief. “Thank you.” He cupped the back of your head, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You wanted to enjoy the simple touch, wanted to rely on this man who you thought genuinely cared to make you better.

But now you didn’t trust him. They wanted Yunho, and maybe they were right that Yunho was lying to you. What was the reason though? You wanted to know.

You wanted answers. That’s why you agreed.

Staying in your room until the next experiment, you couldn’t look at the others. They didn’t know about Yunho and the other zone, even Hongjoong never mentioned him over here. It was just you. You are lost in thought, weighing your options, trying to find some missing puzzle piece the entire time you were in solitude.

Then it was time.

Junmyeon explained that Yunho would show his true colors to outsiders, and that’s why you had a guard sitting next to you, holding your hand and getting tied together. Either he would physically or mentally cross over with you, that was the hope, but you felt uneasy.

This just felt like Junmyeon trying to see if you could bring others over, not a test against Yunho. It felt like a trap but you had to go through with it. You needed the answers, so you had to.

“You’ll see, Seventeen, you’ll see.” Junmyeon muttered under his breath as he injected you with the serum to put you under. Disappointment filled your heart as he was back to calling you by your subject number, but you tried not to let it show.

Instead you focused on bringing the guard with you, one you had never seen before.

Beginning to recognize the feeling in your mind that gave away you weren’t on earth anymore, you knew you were on the sofa even before you opened your eyes.

The man was still tied to you, blinking sleep from his eyes as you both stared at each other. There was no time to be elated though, a pained beastly scream was heard throughout the space, even shaking the very seat you were on. The man jumped into action, quickly undoing the ties as the rumbles got closer.

Fear struck your heart when you heard it, your name, twisted like a venomous bite on a beast’s tongue. Eyes on the door, tears burned them as Yunho strode in, a black mass behind him that roared with unmatched rage.

“Why is there someone else with you?!” He spoke through clenched teeth, veins throbbing on his neck so prominent you could even make out the pulse. The shadow behind him spoke the same words, shaking the ceiling.

“Fuck-” If you were afraid, this guard was petrified, holding up a gun you hadn’t seen on his body before hand. “This was suicide-”

“Damn right it was.” Yunho reached out, the next second the man before him, Yunho’s claw wrapped around his throat. The gun had dropped to the floor, the guard now clawing at the blue velvet around Yunho’s forearm. “Answer me little dove, are you betraying me?! Are you bringing the enemy here?!”

Finding your voice finally you stood. “They’re helping me! Don’t hurt him Yunho!” You stepped closer, noticing the furniture decaying rather quickly as the tower was still shaking. “Yunho please!”

He laughed, such a dark and twisted sound it stilled you down to your breath. He looked at you like a beast, lips pulled back in a snarl and a glare so fierce you fell back.

“You fell for it again, little dove. So naive.”

You could only watch in horror as Yunho grabbed the man’s thigh and then ripped it off. Blood splattered in an arch around the room, hitting your gown and arm you held tightly to your chest. Even through the onslaught of tears you could see in detail each limb get ripped off, the man screaming from his life until he was dead. Even then Yunho still ripped him apart, the shadow attached to him like he was a part of it, roaring with laughter.

Blood was soaking your dress by now, the same blue velvet one he had given you. You wore it every time for these experiments, just so he wouldn’t give you more. But now the thick fabric was dark and wet with blood. It was on your arms, your face, kneeling in a pool of it as he dropped the dozens of pieces of the man before you and began to stomp it into a pulp.

He looked like a demon, a beast, reaping enjoyment from turning a grown man into a pile of blood and mush.

The feeling of being soaked in blood, watching bodies get torn apart, was so familiar it unlocked something in you.

Weren’t you found in a blue dress like this? Covered in blood but not an ounce was yours? Bloody footprints behind you, torn up feet, running and running and you had no idea from what.

It had been from him. From this… beast that was licking the blood off his lips and staring down at the remains of the man with an elated and wicked grin. But it was the electric blue eyes of the shadow that fully solidified the memory.

This was why you hadn’t trusted him. You ran from him before, scared he would rip you apart too, just like that. You willed yourself to wake up, to stand and run, to do something, but all you did was sit there shaking and sobbing, struggling to breath.

When he finally seemed to notice you, your breath halted completely, locking eyes with him and unable to look away.

His smile faltered, stepping through the remains with a squelch under his red shoes before he knelt down before you. “Don’t look at me like that, you brought him here. Don’t you know this is our home? All those fucking intruders do is steal and take. They took you from me. They took you all from me.”

“I-I thought-”

“Thought I didn’t remember? I lied.” He didn’t touch you, but both he and that shadow dwarfed you with ease. “I lied because you hated me for hurting them last time and ran. I didn’t want you to run again, little dove. It’s been so lonely without you.”

Gasping out, your breathing picked up, tears falling faster. “I just want answers, Yunho. Just want to know who to trust. You’re scary like this. I don’t like you for being cruel. Why did you have to be cruel?” You sobbed out, ignoring the blood as you buried your face in your hands.

The tower wasn’t shaking anymore and it didn’t feel as dark as it had a second ago but you didn’t look up. You sobbed, wanting to wake up and forget this. You wanted the Yunho from last time back. Not this Yunho.

“I’m sorry little dove, just don’t leave me for good.” His voice had returned to normal, choking on emotion as he reached out, pressing his hand to the top of your head.

You woke screaming, swatting away his hand that wasn’t there anymore as you scrambled off the ground. You were dripping in blood and guts, taking in the sight of the room to find that the bed and furniture were all pushed to the walls, all painted with blood. Your eyes fell to the spot next to you, letting out another scream to find that you had brought it back.

The pile of guts, bone, and blood that was the guard.

Whether it was to be nice to you, or because they knew you were in no state of mind to continue, you were left to your own devices for weeks after that incident. The guards avoided you, and the other patients seemed concerned for you, especially Hongjoong.

You sat with him by the piano, watching him play that same tune he always did. Resting your head on his shoulder, you sighed, knowing you were being watched. “Hongjoong, what do I do?”

“Why are you asking me? No sanity remember.” He teased, leaning his head against yours. “Unless you’re looking for a crazy answer?”

“Maybe.”

“Logically I should ask what it is you are talking about. I really have no clue. But I think you already have the answer, you just don’t wanna believe it.” He stopped playing, instead moving to put you on his lap and your hands on the piano. “Play with me, little dove.”

Before you could question him, he was moving your hands over the keyboard, playing the tune he was just a moment ago. It felt physically familiar, Hongjoong humming the tune in your ear. You let your eyes flutter shut, let him take the lead, and just relax.

It was easy to picture a scenario where you sat on someone’s lap, their large hands over your smaller ones, teaching you this tune on piano. You could hear kids running around, a soft breeze and feel sun rays on your skin.

Someone said your name fondly, laughing as the song came to an end and a little boy with blue black hair ran up to you, holding out a flower. A happy boy with a familiar smile.

You snapped out of the memory, looking up at Hongjoong yet again. “All who come must leave something behind. Do you know what you left behind, little dove?”

“Why are you calling me that?”

He shrugged, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I don’t know, I think I remember someone else calling you that. In a dream.”

How much did he remember as just a dream? “Do you think I left him behind Hongjoong?” Was Yunho what you left behind?

“Maybe? Or he left that behind.” He spoke it with such a conviction you believed it to be true.

Yunho had said he wasn’t over here, and it made sense, but why would Hongjoong say that if he didn’t believe it? And the man had lied to you before. Doctor Junmyeon too, you realized, had also lied to you.

You needed to talk to Yunho, and without the doctors knowing. “Thanks Hongjoong, just one more question.” You climbed off his lap and he turned to look at you with such a serene and happy expression it puzzled you.“I hope I can give you the answer you want.”

“I think you are the only one who could answer it. Do you think we can go back? Permanently?”

He thought it over, rubbing his chin as if deep in thought before grinning. “If you will it, then yes.”

His response answered a lot for you, so many things are beginning to piece together. You just needed confirmation.

Later, when you were sure the guards weren’t looking, you slipped into another patient’s room, spotting him already sleeping. Thanks to Junmyeon you knew if you touched someone who was already there, it did the trick for you. It was a good thing you remembered that Mingi was always there.

He really did look the same, your first time seeing him in this realm and just as gorgeous. Taking a deep breath you climbed into bed with him, laying on your back before you took his hand in yours and shut your eyes.

You were out like a light, finding yourself on the bed from before. Mingi wasn’t beside you, but he was in the room, staring out a broken window.

Broken?

You sat up quickly, starting around the room to find that the bed was the only thing intact, and even then the blankets and canopy was shred to bits. Swallowing hard, you called out to him, shocked to find him crying. “Mingi?”

“He’s hurt.”

Panic swelled in your chest as you got off the bed and rushed out of the room. There were holes in the ceiling, cracks in the wall, and rubble everywhere. But in that main room, the bath gone from existence, Yunho was there.

He seemed to be asleep on the throne, the blue of his suit dirty but there was no more blood on him. Something about him seemed less, as if he was being drained of life like this realm.

Cautiously you approached, stopping just before him and resisting the urge to reach out. “Yunho?”

No answer.

“Um… Yuyu?”

You could see his eyelids flicker.

“Yuyu, wake up please. It’s your little dove.” Swallowing the panic you tried to keep your voice steady. He had never been asleep before. “Please wake up. Please. I came back, didn't I?”

Still nothing.

Sighing, you sat down on the ground and watched him, calling out to him occasionally. “You said this was our home Yuyu, I was born here wasn’t I?” You rambled, needing to get this off your chest anyways. “But… but something happened. You scared me didn’t you and I ran? Ran over there. But I don’t get it. What happened, Yuyu? Why did we all leave? Did the intruders take us all away? Are they hurting this land? Are they hurting you?”

Nothing still, and you couldn’t help the tears that welled up. “I just want to make sense of it. I want to know what happened. I want to undo it and come back. Please, I want to come back. Want us all to be whole again.”

A hand on your shoulder made you jump, looking up to see Mingi watching you with confusion and calling your name.

The next second you were climbing into his lap and holding onto him, sobbing into his shoulder as he held you. Something was very wrong, you could feel it, but without those last pieces of the puzzle you couldn’t do anything.

Mingi held you until you both fell asleep, Yunho not once waking up despite your cries.

What was stranger was the fact Mingi didn’t completely freak out when you both woke up, but that might have to do with the fact you weren’t in bed when he did as you woke up just a bit before him. He had scrambled back to the wall and was staring at you with trembling eyes, but he didn’t scream or yell or cry. He just watched you with obvious fear until you left.

None of the orderlies had been around and you made it back to your room safely. There you just contemplated what to do. If you couldn’t get answers from Yunho, then you had to get them elsewhere.

There was only one other person who could indulge in that, even if he didn’t have all the answers.

Doctor Kim Junmyeon.

They started these experiments not to fix the patients but to do what you have been doing: They wanted to get to that realm, and to Yunho. Why didn’t matter, not entirely, but if they thought they could get there that means they had an idea.

You sought him out the first chance you could get, demanding to any of the guards or orderlies to see him, and he was stepping into your room that evening.

“You wanted to see me, Seventeen?” Doctor Junmyeon had even avoided you since then, though you didn’t know why. Shouldn’t he have been happy he was right about Yunho showing his true colors.

That he was a beast to be feared?

Not that you feared him, not until you knew for certain what was going on.

“You said you wanted to get to Yunho. I want to help.”

His face lit up, smiling as he quickly closed the distance and was back to calling you by your name. You didn’t like it though, the sudden change, it made you wary. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, though I’m not sure how I can help. You know how though, right?” Gently you grabbed his hands, feigning admiration as you stared up at him. You once admired him, perhaps you still did, but all you knew was that they wanted Yunho and you didn’t want them to have him.

“Yes yes, we have a way.”

“What is it?” You stepped closer, placing a hand on his chest. “What do I have to do?” He hesitated then, his larger hand now over yours as he took a deep breath. “I need to talk to my superiors but we suspect you have the ability to open the door again. When it’s open, we should be able to go in and travel completely.” “What if he hurts you? Like he did-” You swallowed, stepping away suddenly with a dramatic act of hesitation. It wasn’t them you were worried about, but Yunho. The other man had a gun, if a hoard of men went in with weapons they could kill him.

“It’ll be alright, we have a plan though we hope to have him alive. Give me the night to talk it over?” Junmyeon patted your head softly, then let it slide down to cup your cheek and lift your head.

You blushed at his actions, only because you thought of Yunho touching you like this. Maybe it would all work out? Maybe this would all work out and no one would get hurt. Maybe doing what they said was really the right thing to do.

You had a night to figure it out.

Unfortunately you didn’t dream of Yunho and the other realm, instead it felt like you were floating in a dark space for hours on end, the only sound was a child crying.

It left you uneasy for the day, impatiently waiting for Junmyeon to fetch you for the evening. When he did, you found all other patients were in their rooms, an orderly standing in front of each door with two guards at both ends of the hall. Not once had you seen that before and it had you worried even more.

Intuition told you something big was going to happen and it might not end well. It felt wrong, your stomach twisting with nerves as you were lead to a door that patients could never pass but the staff did.

Then you went down.

Only a floor or two from the elevator, Junmyeon using his ID card to pass through more security doors with grates on them- on both sides.

Down the hall, the silence and presence of more guards unnerving you even more. THis was bad, you had no doubt in your mind.

He led you to another pair of grated doors, the room inside start white aside from a giant rock in the center- no, not rock, part of a building. It was surrounded by machines that held it still, a brick wall and the ground around it, but the most significant part was not the wall.

There was a hand jutting through what appeared like a crack that gleamed a steel blue, the faintest of lights illuminating every crack that stemmed from it. The hand however-

You did not need to ask Junmyeon to tell you whose hand it was, the velvet blue suit you saw peeking around the wrist was enough.

Stumbling back you pressed a hand over your mouth, eyes wide as the realization shook you to your core.

These were the answers you wanted. This was the puzzle piece, solidifying your suspicions already.

You were from there, and Yunho had gone after you. After all of you.

“Do you think you can open it?” Junmyeon said next to you, placing a hand on the small of your back.

Could you?

You would try.

As an answer you moved around the railing and down the metal steps, swallowing harshly to try and wet your throat, the amount of guards in the room even more unnerving.

They knew what Yunho was capable of. They knew he was a threat and as soon as you opened that door, they knew he would be angry.

You approached the wall, realizing it was larger than it looked from the door. Wires were connected to it, dangling off to machines that showed data you couldn’t decipher. None of it mattered, not when you had to tilt your head back to look up at Yunho’s hand, outreached as if to try and grab something. You had a feeling it had been you.

“Okay, I can do this. Just open the door.” Mumbling to yourself you focused more on the blue cracks that seemed to pulse. They pulsed faster when you ran a finger over the stone, and you could feel that same pulsing in your chest.

Home was just through these cracks.

Following your instincts, and pure desire to do so, you reached up, needing to stand on your toes to reach him. Fingers grazing his, the stone reverberated with the touch. It was when you jumped and grabbed his hand fully there was an explosion of power.

What was happening to your surroundings was the least of your concerns, the pulses of powers rushing out like shockwaves as the stone began to creak and crumble, opening up. There were shouts and screams, someone calling out your name, but it was all background noise.

Memories flooded your head. Who you were, the life you had on the other side with many of the people that were here. But mostly Yunho.

You were just kids when you both got your abilities, both responsible for the state of the realm. Both tied to it.

But only you could leave.

Memories of dreams in this world, meeting a man who took interest in the fact you could simply disappear. As a child you trusted him, telling him the truth.

And he took advantage of that. Lured you to open up a gate for him. But you couldn’t do that without Yunho.

The bloodshed happened in waves as men much like the ones around you swarmed into your home. They grabbed the other kids, ones you recognize, and many many others. The adults that fought got killed. Your parents got killed.

All because of you.

Yunho had only defended, the beast of his tearing apart the men even as you were yanked from him. You hadn’t protested then, not as a child, letting the intruders take you from him. The anguish of his screams as he killed and maimed trying to get to you rang so clearly in your head now.

They twisted to the screams of others, bringing you to your senses as you found yourself on the ground underneath Yunho, cradling your head with one hand while the other held him above you. There was blood on his cheek, eyes practically glowing with the lust and anger in them.

“Yuyu-”

“I’m here, my dove.”

Gingerly you reached up to wipe the blood off his cheek, frowning with concern. “Are you hurt?” “Not my blood.” He nudged his chin to the side to avert your attention. “Theirs.”

The guards were dead, ripped to pieces like the man you brought over, but not everyone was dead.

An alarm was ringing, someone calling out to you. Ah, Junmyeon, he’s still alive. You heard the door latch and lock, growing concerned for you both now.

“Yuyu, the others- Mingi and-”

“I know. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be right back.” He was off you in seconds, bursting through the doors and down the hall after the doctor you almost trusted.

The pools of blood and mutilated bodies meant nothing to you as you surged to your feet as well, concerned only for Yunho. Gunfire was heard and you caught up in time to see the slaughter.

With his bare hands - no claws - Yunho ripped a man’s arm off and threw it at Junmyeon, knocking him down before he got to the second set of doors. You took note of other doctors scrambling over him, but Yunho charged forward with a beastly roar.

The bullets were flung away by the shadow being around him, little tendrils stopping them and deflecting them right back to the guards that shot them. Yunho took care of the other staff himself.

Despite still having the features of a human, his hands had massive claws and there was a ferocity to his movements and expressions that was inhuman. Blood covered the white walls, screams and the sounds of flesh tearing and bones being crushed echoed in your eardrums.

And yet you found the sight of Yunho so utterly beautiful in carnage that you had to snap yourself out of it.

Not a single man made it to the elevator, their dying breaths long spent and only Yunho’s heavy pants and the blood dripping from his claws filled the space. Well, paired with your own racing heartbeat and shallow breathing.

Fear did not hit you until he turned to you, a wild look in his eyes. “Now You.” He growled out, taking a step in your direction while wiping blood from the side of his mouth with the bloody sleeve.

You ran back down the hall without a thought, the guilt hitting you once more and fully expecting Yunho to seek his revenge on you. You destroyed your home after all, and left him abandoned there. All alone.

As if you could outrun him though, tripping over your own feet and slipping in the blood that was everywhere now. The wind was knocked out of you as you hit the ground, white gown soaking up more of the blood beneath you as you tried to scramble back to your feet.

Where would you even go though?

The floor beneath you shook as he pounced on top of you, hands on either side cracking the floor. He snarled just behind your ear, the sound stilling your every movement and halting your breath in your throat.

Would he kill you now?

“Yuyu?”

“Finally…” He pressed his nose to your shoulder, slowly running it down your back, breath hot against your skin. “Finally I can touch you.”

With a cry you felt pain running up your spine, though nowhere near as much as you were expecting. The gown was torn and you had claw marks on your skin from how he had ripped it off. You turned your cheek to try and steal a glance, just to see him being far more gentle with pulling his pants down.

“Yu-”

“Sh, don’t resist, little dove. Otherwise this is going to hurt much more than it will.”

You saw it then, his cock springing free and hitting your ass. It was heavy, curved, and huge. Bigger in person.

He wasn’t going to kill you he-

Two of his fingers pushed into you with ease, his other hand holding your hands above your head. “Hold them there. Good.” Now three fingers, pumping into you at a painful pace, the harsh stretching bringing tears to your eyes. You pleaded for him, full on sobbing when he pushed a fourth in. “I know I know. But you smell too fucking good. Like them though. Need to get rid of that.”

Hiccuping as you were full on sobbing, you only pleaded his name, but not once did you say no.

Not even as his fingers were pulled out and he thrust himself inside. You howled, squirming and trying to get away now at the pain. “Too much- too much Yuyu can’t take it!”

“Yes you can. You’re going to fucking take it. As punishment.” Inch by inch one hand on your hip and pulling you back onto his cock more and more.

“But-”

“You left me there!” He cut you off, thrusting his full length that bulged out your stomach. “And then dared to taunt me with your presence? When I couldn’t touch you? I couldn’t kiss you, fuck you, love you.” He growled out, both hands now gripping the marble enough it turned to rubble beneath his hands.

“I know. I know I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Yuyu.” You sobbed out, trembling beneath him as your cunt tried to get accustomed to his size. “I was lost without you, and I just wanted to go home.”

He pressed his forehead to the back of your head, panting heavily. You could tell he was trying to hold back, knowing this would be much worse. “Promise you won’t ever leave my side again?”

“Promise.” No hesitation. You reached for his hand, wrapping your fingers around just one of his and was meant with a warning growl, but he didn’t stop you. Twisting yourself a bit, you brought his hand to your throat, holding it there as you looked back at him. “You’re my home, and I won’t ever doubt that again. I accept my punishment, and then I want to take back our city, with everyone.” Tears had streaked through the blood splatters on your cheeks, bottom lip quivering from the pain as it felt like his cock was literally rearranging your insides, but your gaze was unwavering and full of promise.

He gripped your throat tighter and pulled you back, twisting you a bit more to crash his bloody lips to yours. He swallowed up your pained cry as he tested his hips out, his control slipping with every stroke of your lips until you were sobbing from his harsh thrusts.

Staring down at you with a dark eyes that didn’t waver once with each thrust, you forced yourself to do the same. Even as tears ran down your cheeks again, he licked them up, muttering to you that it would be okay, that you were taking it so well.

Before you knew it, it felt good. Too good. Your blubbering sounds of weak protests turned to pleas for more.

When you first creamed on his cock he was pressing your face into the marble and hunching over you, his other hand on your hip and holding it still as he somehow went harder.

You could see through the tears and blood that he was wearing those red shoes, the gems wet with blood that dampened his blue pants as well. It was only a brief thought, immediately shoved out as he slammed his hips down, the bulge so obvious from this angle.

He was probably half in your womb at this point, your tongue lulled out and drool adding to the many liquids beneath you. It was an effort to breathe between the desperate high pitched cries. The pressure on your skull moved to the back of your neck as his hips kept up their brutal pace, balls slapping against your clit again and again until you were coming again on his cock. “Fuck- can’t last when you’re that tight. Years of pent up tension and you’re milking it out of me like it’s nothing.” You could tell he was close by his raspy tone, deep and guttural.

So you begged for it. “Please come. F-Fill me up Yuyu. M-make sure I can never leave you.” Though it was an effort to get the words out between moans as your brain was fucked into mush, the pleasure and slaps to your clit becoming too much once more.

Thankfully that was all it took, a deep cry ripping through his chest and rumbling in his throat as he buried himself deep and really did unload in you. Enough the sizeable bulge seemed to grow, even with the feeling of his cum oozing out around his cock. You could see a few drops fall to the ground between you, despite your own vision black on the edges.

It was enough to have you cumming once more, even harder, with enough juice it pushed him out some and dribbled to the floor to add to the mess there.

He pulled out a moment later and your muscles went limp, body falling on your side as you tried to fight for any sense what-so-ever. He laughed lowly, leaning over to press a surprisingly soft kiss to your temple. “Fucked dumb so easily. So cute of you, my Dove.”

“Wow you really did some damage.” A voice called out but in your current state you had a hard time to place it or even look in the proper direction.

“Glad to see you made it down here Mingi.” Ah right, the others, how could you forget?

Some shuffling and splashes of feet moving through the blood. “Is she going to be alright?”

“It’ll take more than this to end her, she’ll be fine. She’ll get more punishment back home.” A hand patting your ass which you vaguely deduced was Yunho’s. “Are there more of you?”

“Just a small number of us here.” A new voice, ah Hongjoong. “Though we knew right where the gate was when we got our memories, so if there are any others, they’ll come to us. We might want to make sure the gate is safe for them to come to.”

Someone knelt down before you and poked your forehead, drawing your attention. You looked up at a familiar smile. “Though with the gate open, we have our abilities again. Shouldn’t be hard to defend it. And our sweet Princess should be able to locate the others. What do you say? Ready to clean up your mess?”

You were picked up in the next second, cradled in large arms. The bloody velvet suit was easily distinguishable. “Yuyu?”

“I don’t want to risk the gate falling in the wrong hands. Let’s head back and rebuild. Shouldn’t be hard to open another gate once we’re back to full power.” Yunho was already carrying you back to the portal and the idea of going home filled your weary bones with warmth.

“I have to say though- I don’t want to just return and forget about this world.” Hongjoong added, glancing around at the carnage. “I’ve seen a lot of fucked up shit here, plenty of people treating me, treating us, like scum.” There were a few that called out their agreement.

It reminded you of your own struggles growing up in this world, of not one but two betrayals, and it had you stopping Yunho. “I agree with Hongjoong. I know I was the one who brought them there, but they took everything from us. And only continued to do so over here. This is not enough.” You gestured to the bodies. You stared up at Yunho, the man you desired more than anything else. Slowly his lips twisted into a dark grin that was reflected in his eyes. “I see, then when we return for our brethren, let us show them horrors are always waiting on the other side.”

These humans destroyed not only their world, but their innocence, and it was something they would pay gravely for.

That was a promise.

For other works: Masterlist

#mirohsaurorasociety #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez smut #yunho smut #yunho x reader #yunho x you #yunho x y/n #yunho x mingi #yunho oz #dark fanfiction #ateez cnc

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starlazergazer · 2 years ago

Text

Welcome Home

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request: Combining two very similar requests! The overall summary is that the reader finds out she’s pregnant and out of fear leaves the republic (quickly becoming the empire) without Anakin knowing. Anakin tracks down the reader years later and leaves everything behind to live happily ever after with the reader and their child.

Warnings: Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 4K

A/N: Hey guys its been a while! She’s a little short but she’s got some good angst and some cute moments so I really hope you enjoy it!

You weren’t proud to admit that you didn’t see it coming.

The warning signs were all there, and in hindsight you can’t believe you had missed them. But no, not missed, for every time there was a new announcement about the condensation of power you felt your stomach drop, felt the voice in the back of your head whisper that this wasn’t right, you never missed a single warning sign, it was even worse than that. You ignored them.

Because you knew chancellor Palpatine, he was a nice old man, offering his wisdom to younger senators such as yourself, he wanted what was best for the republic same as you.

You thought you knew Anakin too.

But you did know Anakin, you wanted to argue, he was passionate, emotional, funny, someone looking only to do right in the world by those he loved. You just thought you were one of those people.

And maybe you were, maybe this were some big misunderstanding, maybe there were forces at play here you couldn’t see that changed things. Maybe you could be the one to make those changes.

In another life you’d stick around and see.

Not this time. A hand ghosting across your stomach, staring down at an empty suitcase. Circumstances have changed and you couldn’t afford to chance it.

But even as you stood in you room amongst the ruins of the republic you had fought so hard to build, all that echoed in your mind was Anakin’s last words “I’ll find you later I promise” spoken in that tone of voice that had you smiling no matter what. Even as he pulled away, even as he interrupted the most important surprise of your life you couldn’t help but smile back at him, watching his own lips quirk up in response.

How could so much have changed in such little time.

A knock at the front door knocked you out of your stupor, a spring in your step as you rushed out of the bedroom just in time to see Anakin walking into the living room.

And you were amazed at how he looked exactly the same, how your whole world came crashing down and Anakin was still Anakin, looking at you with so much love and worry in his eyes it made your chest ache.

He was across the room before you could even comprehend his movement, his arms wrapping tightly around you not even noticing that you never raised yours to do the same.

It would have been far too easy to melt into the hug, to reach up and cover his hands with your own as he stepped back and cupped each cheek, to ignore the new yellow tint in his eyes as he scanned your body frantically asking if you were hurt.

But your choice here wasn’t just your own anymore, and if there was one thing you were certain of, it was that whoever this child came to be deserved more than what the empire offered.

It took you a second to find your voice, a second to push his hands off your cheeks, to take a step back from him, offering a small I’m okay that he clearly didn’t believe before you fully collected yourself “it’s just a lot to take in ya know?”

And there was a small sigh of relief that racked through him, before he took up your hand, giving it an experimental squeeze, as if afraid you were going to reject him “I know but really all that’s changed is the title, the senate still exists, you still have the same job, emperor Palpatine is just doing his best to protect people”

And you wondered if he really believed that, if he thought that the senate mattered in any way but a symbolic one at this point, that Palpatine was still prepared to just give back his power when he deemed it was best. Anakin was many things but never naive.

A bitter part of you noted how easily the change to Palpatine’s title came to him.

“Of course” you tried to assure him with your best smile, an awkward hand coming up and patting his “I’m still a senator”

He seemed to relax slightly at this, his posture slouching ever so slightly as his smile grew easier, crinkling the edges of his eyes just a little more now than it did before.

“What about you are you okay?” The question held more weight than he could possibly realize.

“I’m good” he sighed out, leading you softly over to the couch “the jedi order, the republic, all of it wasn’t working, hadn’t for some time and emperor Palpatine changed that. I really think it’s for the better”

And you weren’t sure whether it would’ve been worse if he had told you he was being forced into the whole thing. If you would rather he had somehow been blackmailed into his new role or if he truly believed in the empire, choosing instead to dismantle all that you devoted your life to of his own volition.

“Good” you nearly choked on the word as it came out, your forced smile starting to ache in your cheeks as you fought to keep it on “I’m glad”

He smiled warmly back at you and in that moment he looked too much like the Anakin you knew, the man you’d shared many stolen moments with in closets and empty rooms, the man you wanted more than anything in that moment to just come home to.

“Anyway there was something important you wanted to tell me” he prompted softly, turning softly into you, encapsulating both your hands in his with a soft squeeze.

And your mind jumped immediately to the test hidden in your luggage in the bedroom at that very moment, to the moment you had pulled him into the nearest closet just before everything went down, to the excitement you had felt in that moment and carried with you even as he told you he had to go, that you could tell him later. Only for later to never come.

Your mouth dropped open slightly, an amalgamation of words tumbling around inside you with no real idea which would spring forth first. A part of you wondered what would happen if you told him. Would he give it all up? Run away with you? Become the fantastic father you knew he would be away from the sway of the empire, from Palpatine?

But you knew better.

“Oh it was nothing” you shook him off “can hardly remember it now”

He studied you carefully, mistrust evident in every feature on his face. Instead of objecting, however, he just brought a hand up to softly cup your cheek.

And oh how you hated how quickly your body reacted, leaning into the touch softly, your eyes fluttering closed before you could stop them.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His words were soft but you could hear the earnestness in them, the slight beg for you to let him in.

“Yeah I know” you opted for a half truth, never that good at denying him anything, knowing that in any other circumstance you wouldn’t have even hesitated, hell before all of this you were excited to tell him.

But circumstances change, people changed, you just wished that he had picked a path you could follow down.

“I’m just feeling a little tired, I think I’m going to lay down for a nap” you shrugged off his hand softly, pulling yourself back from picking it up with your own, forcing yourself to drop his other one, to push yourself up off the couch, to take a step back, to put that first bit of distance between the two of you.

And you could see him recoil slightly at the sudden declaration, at your sudden dismissal of him, a brief moments shock spent frozen on the couch before he pushed himself up with a dejected nod, a soft hesitant voice you hardly recognized as Anakin’s coming from him “yeah of course, just let me know if you need anything okay?”

For a moment your mind was captured by thoughts of what could have been, Anakin taking care of you through bouts of morning sickness, bringing you packages of whatever pregnancy cravings you had in the middle of the night, rubbing your swollen feet while you talked lazily on the couch. It felt unfair that a person could mourn something that would never come to pass.

“I will, thanks Ani”

And despite the tension in the air you saw the corner of his mouth twitch up at the familiar nickname. He gave a small nod before backing away and heading for the door, his hand coming up to the panel and hovering over its surface, a brief moment spent frozen before he spoke, calling out your name and spinning around to find you.

But he didn’t need to look far, you hadn’t moved from your spot as you watched him go.

“I love you”

And it would’ve been so much easier if he hadn’t have said that, if some part of you could’ve been able to push his feelings over all of this to the back of your mind, if you had been left to believe that on some level he would be okay if you left him.

“I love you too Ani” and even worse you meant it

“So this is why you ran?” the familiar voice broke you from your thoughts as you stared forward at the busy playground but didn’t necessarily surprise you, it was after all a voice you had been waiting to here again after too many years.

A million reactions to that voice ran through your head all at once, each one completely contradicting the one before. Run away, embrace him, hide your daughter, introduce him to her. So instead you stayed frozen in place, your gaze locked on the colorful jungle gym before you.

“I decided she deserved a better life than what the empire could give her” Still you refused to look at him, refused to put a face to that comforting voice you had always been inexplicably drawn to. Instead you focused on keeping your head held high, to stave off any guilt that threatened to leach into your tone. You couldn’t afford to look weak over this decision not now.

“she?” but god that little tremble in his voice nearly broke you, every doubt you had over the years amplified by a minor change in pitch. It was precisely why you had left in the first place, and here he was again threatening to pull you back in all over again.

You cleared your throat softly, gesturing across the playground vaguely with your head “bright pink coat, attempting to climb the monkey bars”

A shaky exhale sounded from beside you, a slight shift as he scooted closer but you weren’t sure whether you liked the feeling or hated it. “she looks just like you” The smile you could hear in his voice, however, that you relished.

“She’s got your eyes” you responded softly, laughing quietly as you watched her run and jump off the platform in an attempt to get high enough to reach the first rung “and your reckless relationship with danger”

You felt Anakin go tense beside you the minute her shoes left the ground, watching as she sailed missing the bar by mere inches and tumbling to the ground. Your hand came out to his elbow the minute you felt his weight shift as he got ready to go help her, freezing the two of you in place as you watched her pick herself up and dust herself off before abandoning her quest for the monkey bars and taking off for the swings.

“Tough kid” Anakin laughed almost in disbelief, watching her shake off the fall as if it were nothing.

“taught her early on if she was going to make stupid decisions she better be prepared to deal with the consequences”

A tense silence fell over the two of you at your words. It only occurring to you then that you still had your hand on his arm, pulling it back quickly, acting as if it were nothing, as if your fingers weren’t aching to reach out to him again.

“You know I was high up in the empire” he broke the silence with heavy words, inlaid with more depth than he probably meant “I could’ve given her a good life”

You shook your head at his words, eyes never leaving your daughters form as she started to swing, blissfully unaware of who had just shown up “there was a time I would’ve believed that” you responded honestly with a sigh “but after everything the empire has done, after seeing what is has become, I know I made the right call”

“the schools I could get her into, the house I could provide-“ Anakin pushed on only making your lip tremble slightly, your eyes closing as you let out a shaky beath, cutting him off.

“stop Ani” and the two of your froze at the nickname, the way it slipped out too easily from your lips, how much you liked the sound of it “the empire destroyed everything I fought for in an instant. It overthrew a democracy I devoted my life to in favor of a dictatorship, it killed millions of people I gave my life to serve as their representative, it took everything from me including you” and finally you turned to face him, not at all surprised to see familiar blue eyes already staring down at you, each feature swimming through an ocean of emotions he wasn’t quite sure which to land on. “I wasn’t going to let them take her too”

You each took a moment, eyes bouncing back and forth between one another’s, you taking a moment to take in a face that somehow looked the exact same as it had years ago and yet changed so much.

Still he shook his head softly, eyes casting back out to the playground before him “I would’ve come with you”

And you’d spent too much time pondering that same question to just let it slide “you wouldn’t have”

Anakin’s head snapped back to yours, eyebrows drawing in in confusion and hurt “You think I would’ve chosen anything else over you? Over her?” he gestured over to the swings, your daughter kicking her feet to climb higher and higher into the air.

“I think you would’ve tried to talk me into staying, and I was afraid I was too weak to say no” you answered honestly, watching as he shook his head again clearly not liking that as an answer “and I think even if you had wanted to come with me they wouldn’t have let you” that gave him pause, his brows furrowing slightly at your words, silently prompting you to continue “you were the emperors right hand man, the one set to inherit everything. They weren’t going to let you go that easily”

“I was in too deep, so you just gave up on us” he paused for a second, a deep breath running through him before he continued “gave up on me”

Immediately you were scooching yourself closer to him, thigh coming to rest right along his as you took one hand in yours, using it to pull his attention back to you. “If circumstances were different” you began slowly, blindly searching for the right words for the feeling you had never been able to let go of “I would’ve stayed with you. No question, no hesitation, I would always choose you.” And you gave those words a second to sink in, hoping more than anything that he would believe you on that much, “But now I have her to think about” you nodded vaguely in your daughters direction, Anakin’s gaze briefly following yours before snapping quickly back to your figure, his hand squeezing yours just a little tighter “At that time that meant getting her out of there by whatever means necessary”

“And now?” he asked quietly, eyes practically begging you for an answer

“Darth vader has no place in our family” you answered solemnly, giving the statement a moments pause to cement it “however, Anakin Skywalker always has a place at our table”

You could see his face start to break out into a smile but your attention was pulled away too quickly by a familiar voice shouting “mommy” before a weight was pushed onto your lap as your daughter buried her head into your chest, not bothering to slow down from her dead sprint before she jumped onto your lap.

You gave a dramatic “oof” that had her giggling as she brought her gaze up to meet yours, a wide smile on her face as she started to talk “did you see how high I went on the swings mommy? Did you see me go?”

Her excited fast talking pulled an easy smile to your cheeks as your voice got higher slightly, nodding eagerly along with her “I did see you went sooooo high you’re such a brave little girl”

“I’m not that little” she protested with a giggle and a dramatic roll of her eyes, her gaze cutting briefly to Anakin’s form next to you, the question of who this man was clearly bubbling beneath the surface, nothing but her own shyness keeping it at bay.

“Come here” you said softly, twirling her around so she sat in your lap with her back against your chest, her head tucked perfectly just beneath your chin “do you remember all those stories I tell you about the super cool Jedi?”

“Obi-wan?” she asked innocently and you couldn’t help but laugh, if nothing else the girl’s comedic timing was on point.

“no the other one, the one that worked to bring balance to the force?”

“Daddy?” she asked eagerly and you heard a breath escape from Anakin, a quick glance up to him showed that his eyes were glued to the little girl in your lap.

“That’s right” you assured her with a smile growing more strained by the second, a tightness in your chest growing as you knew what her next question would be.

She looked over at Anakin curiously, not quite shying away from him but keeping her distance from her spot in your lap, choosing instead to carefully study the man before her. “Is he going to come live with us now?”

Your eyes jumped up to Anakin’s as he tore his gaze from the girl in your lap, an expression on his face that seemed to ask you the same question.

“I don’t know sweetheart” you began hesitantly “I think Daddy’s got some things he needs to figure out before-“

“Yes” Anakin cut you off before you could finish, making your eyebrows shoot up at him, your eyes silently asking him if he was sure, if he knew what he was agreeing to right now, if he was really prepared for a step like that.

Instead his gaze broke back down to his daughter, a small smile growing on his face as he stooped slightly as he spoke “that is if it’s okay with you?”

“mmmm” you daughter hummed loudly, clearly missing the desperation in Anakin’s expression as she held him on the edge of his seat, pondering the question carefully before asking “are you a good swing pusher?”

A strained, relieved chuckle from his lips at her question, an eager answer following it quickly “I’m an excellent swing pusher”

“Then as long as it’s okay with mommy” she declared simply, Anakin’s eyes breaking once again up to meet yours, a single question held within them.

And looking into his eyes you thought of the person he had become after the republic fell, the person you felt you had to flee in order to raise your daughter in a safe environment, the person that became the very thing you’d once worked to destroy.

But looking at him all you saw was your Anakin. The man who had only ever tried to do what he thought was best, the man who would lay down his life with no hesitation to protect you, the man who ever since meeting her had been hanging off your daughters every word. Five minutes in and she already had him wrapped around her little finger.

“What about your job” you asked him, your expression holding more meaning than your actual words “back on Coruscant”

“I’m done with that” he answered immediately, inching closer to the two of you “no one knows I’m here”

“Are you sure” you asked him slowly, a million tiny expansions on that question flowing silently through you. Are you sure that you’re done with the empire, that no one will come looking for you, that this is really what you want?

“I’ve never been more sure of anything” he answered softly, eyes never breaking contact with yours as he said it.

And you let that answer hang In the air for a moment, searching his expression for any sign of doubt but ultimately finding none. You opened your mouth to speak when you daughter decided to break the silence for you, grabbing Anakin by the hand she hopped off your lap and started to drag him towards the playground. “Good you can come push me on the swings now”

And you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched him follow her eagerly, a grin on his face you hadn’t realized how bad you had missed seeing as he helped her into the seat, starting to push her almost hesitantly, as if he were afraid she would fall off.

So true to form your daughter demanded higher, eliciting a hearty laugh from the former jedi you could hear from across the playground, bringing a soft smile to your face as you watched the two of them, whispering softly to yourself “welcome home Ani”

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