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fanwarriorfictions · 6 months

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Not Again- Part Four

Summary: With the discovery of a special book, Y/n is one step closer to home. The inner court learns even more about her family back home. And Azriel needs a babysitter of his own

Series Masterlist

-Part Four-

Amren found them in the kitchen, food had been waiting for them on the counter before they’d even arrived, the house it seemed was sick of her not eating as well. She’d simply laughed at the nagging presence and started filling her plate. Azriel had entered moments later, a small scowl on his lips from being left in her dust. He’d huffed and quietly filled his plate, he wasn’t kidding when he said flying worked up his appetite.

“I have use of your stray, boy. Go find somewhere else to be.”

Azriel gives the small female an unimpressed look, “nice to see you too, Amren.”

Y/n pushes her half eaten plate away, waving off the wisps of shadows that angrily dance around her at the action, “Did you find something?”

“I had that insufferable songbird pull any books she could find with your Wyrd marks,” Amren says, snapping her fingers.

A pile of books fall onto the counter, old withered pages that look like they hadn’t been opened in many many years. A plume of dust flies off them and Y/n wisks it away with a small breeze.

“Can you read them?” Azriel asks, eyeing the pages one book that’d fallen open.

“I thought I told you to find somewhere else to be?” Amren snaps, though there’s no threat behind it.

“My babysitter here is vigilant in his task,” Y/n sighs ignoring the withering look Azriel gives her, she takes one of the books into her hands and flips through some of the pages, “My mother taught me what she knew of the marks. Protection, locking, unlocking, many things like that, but we never covered gates, it simply wasn’t possible, and she didn’t want me testing fate.”

“Well to bad, it would’ve been useful to know that now,” Amren sighs, picking a book out of the stack, shoving it towards her, “Gwyn said this one practically jumped off the shelf at her.”

Y/n eyes the title and almost drops the book in shock. Azriel takes a casual step closer to peer over her shoulder at the book, a shadow finds her arm and gently wraps around it, a comforting touch.

“You know it?” Amren asks, giving that wisp of shadow a curious look, “I couldn’t read it, what is it called?”

“The Walking Dead,” Y/n answers breathlessly, “in my native language.”

Azriel couldn’t read the book, but he still looks over her shoulder periodically as she flips through each page. She’d been at it for hours, taking notes on the scraps of paper littered over the dining room table. Amren had taken the remaining books to look over, most had been fae scholars from this world musing over the marks, nothing quite as useful as the book in Y/n’s hands it would seem. Amren would also look over the Book of Breathings, see if anything jumped out at her.

Y/n had barely spoken to him the whole time, quietly mumbling to herself once in a while as she wrote. Azriel noticed that her notes switched between his language and her own in sporadic patterns, sentences switching back and forth, one word in one language then the next in the other. Swirling letters that connected in long strokes of her pen. The words were close together, she hardly lifted the pen as she finished one to write the next, like her brain was moving faster than her hand could keep up.

She was so focused that she didn’t notice Azriel slip out the door, didn’t notice when Rhys had appeared and waved him towards the hall.

“How’s research going?” The High Lord asks, “Amren has yet to find anything useful.”

Azriel turns an eye through the door, at the female still engrossed in that book, “nothing yet, though it seems Y/n may put Amren to shame in relentless focus. I don’t think she’s looked away from that book for more than the few seconds it takes to write something down.”

“I’ll be sure to tell Amren she has the competition,” Rhys chuckles, “I hear you two went for a flight today. All over Velaris people are talking about the almighty Shadowsinger chasing after a bird all afternoon.”

He gives Azriel a shit eating grin and Az scowls back at him, “she was determined to leave her babysitter in the dust.”

His scowl deepens when Rhys just laughs, “what? Don’t like chasing after pretty females?”

“I’m sure his ego is just bruised cause he can’t keep up,” Y/n’s voice calls out from the room behind them, “Big strong males tend to dislike being shown up by us pretty females.”

Azriel glares over his shoulder at the female who hadn’t even looked up from her notes, “I can keep up just fine.”

“Sure you can,” she laughs, turning a page, “I won’t hold back next time if that’s what you wish.”

His shadows laugh in his ears and he turns his glare on them. Rhys next to him grins as he walks into the room, eyes taking in the mess of papers full of Y/n’s half put together thoughts. She finally looks up then, acknowledging the male with a small nod of her head.

Her eyes are tinged red, like she hadn’t even blinked in the time she’d been sitting there. She glances at him, grinning at the scowl still on his lips. He glares harder, shoving his shadows down as they continue to laugh at him.

Rhys looks between them, “found anything useful?”

It breaks their stare and her smile falls. Azriel gets the strangest sense that he wants it back.

“Yes and no,” she sighs, “I recognize a lot of it, this was the book my mother learned a lot of what she knows of the Wyrd marks. She used it to open a gate to the place souls rest once to talk to… a friend. I’m sure it’s in here somewhere, I just need to keep looking.”

He notes the pause, the shift of her tone, whoever Aelin had tired to talk to, it was a sore subject. Take a break, she’s sad again, sad, she needs to rest, working for hours, hours, break. Azriel is half tempted to hiss at the nosey little shadows. They’d been at it for the last hour, as soon as the sun started to dip below the horizon, it’s like they switched into nanny mode. He wasn’t sure why they were so concerned anyway, she was more than capable of taking care of her damn self.

“The gates are the tricky ones,” she continues, grabbing pages of notes, “I’m close to figuring it out, I could probably open a gate, but to get to the right place is the hard part is opening one to the right place. I could just as easily walk right into a hell realm as I could into my own. And as fun as that seems, I’d rather not test my luck.”

“How many realms are out there?” Azriel asks.

“Who knows,” she shrugs, “my mother remembers falling through many, she couldn’t even describe most of them because of how fast she was falling. Give me a day and I think I could figure this out-“

“You’ve been at it for hours,” Rhys cuts in, “surely you could take a break. Maybe join us for dinner? We’ve all stewed up more questions for you, Cassian has a list.”

Yes, yes, yes, dinner, she didn’t eat enough, yes. Mother above, he wished he could get the shadows to shut up.

Y/n hesitantly glances at the papers surrounding her on the dining room table, “I seem to have commandeered the space. I’d hate for it to get stained.”

Azriel could tell that what she really wanted to say was, I need to keep working so I can get home. It was written in the longing glances at the book, in the way she flew towards the horizon like home was on the other side, the way she looked at the sky expectantly, searching for something he couldn’t quite figure out.

“We’ll eat at my home,” Rhys shrugs, “your research will be here, exactly where you left it when you return.”

She looks ready to argue, to deny, to beg to stay, but instead she sighs, “Is dinner a casual affair, or does your lot like to preen?”

Rhys laughs, “It’s whatever you like, preen as much as you wish.”

She hums, “My babysitter and I will be there shortly then.”

Mother, give him strength. She pushes to her feet, giving him that saccharine smile as she walks past him towards her room. Her scent lingers as she leaves, that hint of embers stronger than usual. He can’t help the subtle intake of air, nor the shadow that grazes her wrist like it would wrap around and make her stay.

She’s barely out the door before Rhys is clapping him on the shoulder with a quiet chuckle, “do you need a babysitter? I’m sure Cassian would like to return the favor.”

Azriel snarls at him, “We’ll see you at the house brother.”

Rhys just laughs again, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he moves towards the door, “take your time. I wouldn’t blame you for being a little late.”

“Get out.”

Azriel waits for her in the living room, she’d still been in her room when he’d gotten dressed, which wasn’t surprising since it only took him a few minutes to change into a slightly nicer shirt, he didn’t bother with the preening, Rhys did that enough for all of them.

Heel clicks on the floor alert him to her approach, she turns the corner into the room and Azriel couldn’t stop the way his body goes absolutely still.

He thought night court black suited her but he was wrong, she looked good in it but it didn’t compare to the way she looked in this dress. Deep green of a forest, the silk fabric flows with her body like water, showcasing each of those curves like currents, with accents of silver thread and shining jewels that glow in the light like the stars above. She’d lined her eyes with kohl, giving them that sultry look that could drive a male wild. And her lips, Mother help him, her lips were painted a deep wine red, so dark it could’ve been black.

Gorgeous, she was absolutely gorgeous. He’d known she was pretty, he wasn’t blind, he’d noticed when he’d found her laying in the moonlight, even covered in blood she was beautiful, but it didn’t strike him till now exactly how attractive she was.

“You like what you see shadowsinger?” Her grin is feline and lethal, voice dripping with honey, “I told you I was your type.”

He doesn’t respond, simply continues to look her over. There’s a fire in her eyes that has his shadows whirling around him and when her head angles in that predator way, he’s almost willing to be the prey.

House wasn’t a good discriptor of the giant building that sits before her. Manor maybe, but Azriel had called it the River House. Rhys and Feyre’s personal residence that Feyre had apparently designed herself. The garden in the back had been where she’d fallen into this world, she’d been to frantic to really appreciate her surroundings. It was absolutely beautiful.

Azriel led her through the front door and the interior was just as magnificent as the outside, intricate and elegant, yet it still felt warm and lived in. A multitude of paintings lined the walls as they walked to the dining room. From their conversation earlier, she assumed they were done by Feyre herself. The High Lady had mentioned her art studio, she had a class this afternoon that she would be teaching. Y/n had leaned towards musical arts, but she always loved going to galleries with her aunt Lysandra. According to Rhys, there was a section of Velaris called the rainbow, the artist quarter of the city. She assumed she’d flown through it today with Azriel, the place had been alive, filled with music that she couldn’t help but be drawn to.

As they moved down the hall she could hear the sounds of the Inner Court, as they called themselves, growing closer and closer. Their laughter reminded her of home, of dinners with the cadre and her uncles visiting from Adarlan, or even Nesryn and Sartaq all the way from the southern continent. They were never quiet affairs, always full of laughter and teasing, usually from Fenrys and Dorian on the later.

The last dinner like that had been little over a month ago. She’d dressed up in a gown this exact color. Her aunt Elide had helped her do her makeup, she’d practically had to hold her down in her chair so she could finish, to excited to sit still. It was her favorite nights of the year, these dinners, seeing her family come together all in one place. Sometimes they’d even convince Manon to join them, never aunt Manon, though she’d gotten away with that once when she was a child. It was always magical seeing her and Dorian dance around each other as if they weren’t desperate for the other.

She would sit there and watch her family, watch the way everyone loved each other. How her parents would stare into each others eyes and grin like someone had told a joke. How her uncle Aedion would dance with her aunt Lysandra to music only the two of them could hear. How uncle Chaol and aunt Yrene would bicker together with smiles still on their lips, to the utter annoyance of her cousin, Josefin. She watched them all, and hoped one day she would have someone who would love her just as fiercely

“Where’d you go, princess?”

Her mind drifts back from that far away place across the stars, finding Azriel’s gaze on her. Stoic as always, but she could see the bit of concern behind those whiskey eyes. It warms something in her, just barely, just enough for her to give him a small but genuine smile.

“Home,” she says quietly, “I was home.”

“So you’re telling me, a demi fae is one of your strongest warriors,” Cassian says, throwing quotes around the words, “and the guys power is death, just pure death? And he’s how tall exactly?”

Y/n laughs, “My uncle Lorcan has described it to me as death, I’m not sure what that means exactly, it was a gift from the old God of Death, Hellas. It looks like Azriel’s shadows, though they’re not sentient little creatures more like whips of shadow that he controls. I don’t know how tall he is exactly but he’s taller then you, he’s taller than all three of you males, actually. You should see the height difference between him and Elide.”

Azriel couldn’t help the small grin on his lips as his brother continues to pester Y/n over the apparently giant uncle of hers. It’d started with him asking about her father, and then the rest of his cadre. She’d told them all about the mighty warriors. Fenrys, who she could only describe as very very pretty, he could shift into a giant white wolf, and winnow, though not quite as much as those here could. Lorcan, the giant shadow wielder, who’s name is apparently Lord Lorcan Lochan, to everyone’s utter amusement. And a mysterious figure named Vaughan, who she admits wasn’t around a lot when she grew up, usually away in Wendlyn, he could shift into a massive osprey.

“There’s no way, he’d have to be like seven feet tall,” Cassian argues, mouth opening to ask yet another question.

Nesta elbows him in the side, “I want to hear more about the shapeshifter.”

“Lysandra,” Y/n supplies the name with a warm smile, “Her favorite form is a snow leopard, lethal creatures, but the softest fur you’d ever felt in your life. When I was a child she’d let me cuddle up next to her by the fire to take naps.”

“You’d mentioned a sea battle earlier,” Mor chimes in, “what was the creature she shifted into.”

Y/n’s eyes light up, “One of my favorite stories, I would beg to hear it again and again. It’s called a sea dragon, the companions of the Mycenians of old Terrasen. When they were banished from their home centuries ago the sea dragons all died out and it became legend that once the dragons returned, so would the Mycenians.”

Azriel watches her, enraptured by her stories. It had been like that the whole night. She’d been stolen away by Feyre as soon as they’d arrived, more and more questions being thrown at her throughout dinner. He’d taken a seat across from her next to Cassian, who had by far asked her the most. But she met each one with a story, that look in her eye from out in the hall hidden but not gone. She’d seemed lost, far far away, and so sad. He’d almost turned around and brought them back to the house of wind just so she could keep looking for a way home, just to erase that look. But when she’d smiled at him, all he could do was stare.

“During the war my mother had traveled to Skulls bay.” She talked with her hands, Azriel noticed. “One of the missing Mycenians was there, she’d figured it out a long time before that when she was still an assassin, when she’d wrecked the whole port to free hundreds of slaves. Captain Rolfe, the pirate lord, was not happy to learn the assassin who’d ruined his island was actually the long lost Queen of Terrasen. He refused to send aid, so my mother did what she does best, she schemed. Her and my aunt devised the plan to bring the sea dragon back. The battle didn’t go quite as planned, the valg had sea wyverns, vicious and powerful. But that sea dragon form, huge and magnificent was stronger, smarter. She used them against the valg forces, sending those beasts straight into the hulls of their own ships. My mother tells me that she could barely keep up with Lysandra’s speed, if you blinked she was gone. It was close, she was badly wounded, but she won.”

“Wow,” Elain breathes, eyes sparkling, “That’s amazing.”

“My uncle Aedion tells it better,” Y/n shrugs, smiling at the memory, “He always told me that it was then that he decided he could not live without her. When he saw her bleeding on that beach still in that huge form, half wild from the fight, he wasn’t afraid of her even though she looked ready to bite his head off.”

Cassian laughs, hooking an arm over the back of Nesta’s chair, “I know the feeling.”

Nesta looked half tempted to bite him right then to prove his point. Cassian simply grins at his mate, that telltale look in his eyes that would usually have the pair leaving early at any moment.

Azriel rolls his eyes at the pair, looking towards the female across from him. To find Y/n already looking right back. She’s got that overly sweet smile on her painted lips that she knows gets under his skin. He gets the sense that she enjoys it, the way he glares at her, it’s like a game. See how much she could push before he finally pushed back.

Rhys leans forward, that knowing grin on his lips again, “How fast can you fly in that hawk form? You said you went easy on poor Az earlier.”

She laughs and somehow he doesn’t care that it’s at his expense, “Very very fast, I can shift the air under my wings to go even faster. I could make it to the house of wind in less than a minute if I wished.”

“Impressive,” Azriel says, rolling his eyes.

“Oh don’t be a sore loser, Az,” she taunts.

It’s the first time she’s called him that, he quite enjoys the sounds of it, “Is it really losing if your competitions got a boost?”

“Only using what’s in my arsenal,” she shrugs nonchalantly, taking a sip of her wine.

Azriel’s eyes zero in on the motion, appreciating the way her lips rest on the edge of the glass. He was right, that color stained.

Careful brother, Rhys whispers in his mind, Or I really will send Cassian to babysit you.

He glares at the high lord, I do not need a sitter.

That’s what Cassian said, Rhys shrugs, Now look at him.

And it’s like a timer goes off on his patience, Cassian stands from his chair, taking his mate’s hand in his own.

“Well I think it’s time for us to go,” Cassian declares, he’d lasted longer than Azriel thought he would.

Nesta turns her eye on Y/n, “We train at the house of wind every morning, 8 am sharp, be there.”

Y/n grins, baring those sharp canines, and Azriel has the good sense to be wary of letting those two near each other in a sparring ring.

Tag List- Anyone in white could not be tagged. Let me know if I got your tag wrong!!

@inloveallthetime , @microwaveallthedemons , @nayaniasworld , @thecraziestcrayon , @fightmedraco , @blackgirlmagicforever , @nikt-wazny-y , @fangirlloza010 @fussel9913

#there’s some tension here and it’s mostly coming from azzie #hot lady wears some lipstick and this man is on his knees #acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #rowaelin daughter #rowaelin

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bluebeetless · 1 year

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econ

ethan landry/reader

summary: you’re trying to help your boyfriend study using unique methods.

tags: cockwarming, riding, p in v sex, ethan is low-key a bottom in this, creampie, lowercase intended, sex in a chair, sex over a desk, aftercare, cuddling, minors dni

warnings: nsfw, unprotected sex, use of the word cunt, talks of ghostface at the end, (almost) panic attack at the end

smut under cut

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛ bluebeetless’ writing ❜┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

ethan whimpers, hands grabbing your waist, face buried in your shoulder. “pay attention.” you whisper, tapping the page with your pen. “sorry…” you hear your boyfriend whimper. right now, he’s rock hard and buried inside your soft cunt. you’re sat stationary in his lap, walls clenched around his throbbing cock. you’re trying to help him study for his end of year exam, which was easier said than done. ethan had a tendency to drift off, daydream, or get extremely distracted; so you came up with a more unique way to get his attention.

ethan’s chin rests upon your shoulder, he’s panting softly, breathing fanning over the left side of your face. “what’s the answer to this question?” you ask softly, tapping the page of your notebook. “uh..- b?” ethan asks. you smile softly. “well done baby.” you purr, ticking answer b. “please-“ ethan whines, hands squeezing your hips. “not yet baby, just a few more questions.” you move your non-dominant hand down so you could hold his hand, squeezing softly. he’s whining again, it’s very soft and desperate. “you’re doing so well for me, e. just answer these questions.” you try to pull his attention to the notebook, and so he abides. “a?” he doesn’t sound very confident, yet he got it correct either way.

instead of verbally praising him, you clench your walls around him, listening to his soft moans. “c’mon, sweetie, you can do it.” you encourage, listening to him regain his composure. “i cant- baby, please-“ ethan grinds up against you, whimpering uncontrollably. you roll your eyes, yet you’re smiling fondly. “you did very well today, e. i’m proud of you.” you mumble, closing your notebook. “can i have my reward now?” ethan asks, squeezing your hands as he practically vibrates in his desk chair. “alright, sweetheart.” you smile, leaning back against his chest as you angle your head to kiss his jaw. ethan let’s out a pornographic moan, bucking up against you as you roll your hips.

“feels good-“ he stammers, hands gripping yours tightly as you bounce in his lap. you can’t help your own soft moans as he throbs inside you, squeezing around his cock. “good boy, you’re fucking me so good.” you purr, letting him stand. ethan bends you over his desk, your tits pressing against the notebook, his chest heaving as he thrusts into you desperately. it’s your turn to whimper as his cock hits your g-spot perfectly, head lifting as ethan grabs your hair; something he learnt you had liked after a long night out. ethan moans loudly, and you’re glad that chad is out for the night. ethan’s hand moves under your hips, fingers finding your clit as he stimulates you.

“i wanna-“ he pauses to take a soft gasp. “wanna fun at the same time with you.” ethan whimpers, cock twitching harshly. you moan in response, hands gripping his desk to steady yourself. he thrusts into you so hard you feel your feet lift slightly, toes grazing against the floor as you lean on his desk. ethan groans, precum seeping into you. “close- m’close, eth.” you moan, legs spreading for him to give your boyfriend more room to rub your clit. “come on- fuckfuckfuck..!” ethan moans, leaning down to kiss your shoulder. the feeling of you cumming makes ethan come undone, his cum spilling into you. “good boy…” you can’t help but whisper softly as his fingers slow down, easing you through your orgasm in a way that made your body twitch and your cunt spasm.

ethan eases your feet onto the floor again, helping you stand up as he kisses your neck. “are you alright?” he asks softly, voice slightly slurred with lust. “mhm, i’m okay.” you reply, leaning back against his chest as his cum seeps down your thigh. “gonna go clean up. go get into bed, we can cuddle.” you turn, kissing his lips gently. ethan kisses you back immediately, and almost whines as you eventually pull away. you smile, thumb stroking his cheek as he kisses you once more before letting you go. ethan puts away his stuff before flopping onto his bed, settling into his soft covers.

you return, smiling as you join him. you lay half on top of ethan, head resting on his shoulder as your legs lay between his. tossing an arm over him, you hug your boyfriend tightly. “love you.” ethan mumbles, sleepily. “i know, baby. i love you too.” you reply, kissing his jaw. ethan hums, rolling over to cuddle into you. “get some sleep, e.” you mumble as he drapes the duvet over the two of you. “i love you.” he repeats, as if it were the lord’s prayer. “i love you too, ethan.” you respond, yawning slightly through your words. “i love you more.” he quips, yawning as well. “i love you sooo much more.” you giggle, kissing him to keep him silent. “goodnight, baby.” he mumbles, closing his eyes as you smile. “goodnight, eth.” you respond easily, lips pressing against his jaw and staying there.

closing your eyes, you fall asleep, huddling against your boyfriend as he stays awake for a while longer; listening to your calm breathing. he ponders for a while, about how he met you, how he began to date you- how he got so lucky. he begins to think about the plan his father hatched, how you were a target. ethan doesn’t think he could ever bring himself to hurt you. you seemed so closed off, so quiet- yet deep down you were tender and sweet, funny and kind. ethan loved you, with all his heart he loved you. “fuck…” he whispers softly, squeezing his eyes shut. “fuck- fuck… what am i gonna do..?” he panics a little, chest beginning to heave. you stir from your sleep, humming sleepily as you hug him tighter. ethan calms in your grip, cradling you close. “i won’t let them hurt you. i love you, baby.” ethan whispers, rolling over slowly so you were between him and the wall. you settle into the new position easily, burying your face in his neck.

how did he get so lucky?

#ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #ethan landry x you #scream vi #scream vi x reader #scream 6 #scream 6 x reader #scream #scream x reader #// 🌻 bluebeetless ‘s writing!#// 🔪 scream!

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rxzennia · 5 months

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with love, happy birthday

– tales of the voracity pathstrider

✎𓂃 happy (late) birthday, kakavasha. somewhat established relationship, pet names, aventurine’s real name, sleepy/ affectionate aventurine who’s probably very ooc. a quick one (i lied, this is like 2k worth of yapping and its 12am) because i was busy playing the update and haven’t been writing at all; i hope i did his lore justice ;-;

kakavasha stirs as the sun shines in his face. weird, doesn’t he usually have an alarm set? or, at the very least, don’t you usually wake him up?

he feels around the bed for you, but his hand lands on smooth scales instead of you. when he reaches further, he grabs a handful of sheets, and he realizes you’ve gotten up before him and left a few of your serpents with him. he sits up with a yawn, his hand subconsciously seeking out the creature curled up into a ball next to him.

“mm, where’s your…” kakavasha takes a moment to find a word to describe you, and he very quickly gives up. it’s too early for this. “where’s your main body?”

main body…? i mean, he was almost going to say “host”, like… possessed host? parasite host?

the serpent makes a little noise as it opens and closes its maw

drooling, as usual, as it hangs around his hand

does it even understand him?

it does. just needed a moment to comprehend

it slithers up his torso and settles around his neck after doing a few loops

he used to be horrified because your serpents are, like, huge, and what if they decide to strangle him???

but he knows by now that they’re friendly and won’t hurt him

it tries to guide him to you by tugging on either the right or the left sides as he gets out of bed

he finds himself outside of your office… is this where you’ve been?

he lifts his hand to knock, but then he hears you; you seem to be on the phone?

“thank you. then i will leave it to you,” you say, in your typical detached business voice. you glance towards the door when kakavasha enters without knocking, your eyes softening almost immediately at his disheveled appearance of having just gotten out of bed.

you wave him over; he doesn’t hesitate to settle in your lap and snuggle up against you. the serpent around his neck moves over around yours as well and finds itself a nice position there, essentially tying you two together. kakavasha watches as you spin the pen in your hand idly as you listen to whoever you’re talking to, and he admires you as you work – you’re so different when you’re serious! which makes how sweetly you treat him all the more special to him.

“of course, rest assured,” you answer, to whatever question the other party asked, “yes, a quick rundown report will do. is that all?”

it seems that is, indeed, all, as you end the call and practically slam the phone back onto its stand.

you wrap your arms around him and rubs your nose against his exposed collarbone

this man never uses the buttons on his pajamas properly

“honey?” you ask, using the pet name you have for him as both a tease an an endearment

“do i not have plans today?” he slurs a little, he’s still not quite up yet. “my alarm didn’t ring, and you didn’t wake me up…”

“no,” you answer quickly, lifting your head to peck him on his jaw, “you’re free today.”

you probably either took on a bunch of his work for yourself, or you’ve delegated to his team

he’s so happy when he hears that from you

he got a day off without having to use his vacation days?

kakavasha can’t quite believe it. you, voluntarily clearing his schedule for him? “really?”

“really, mr aventurine.” you sigh, giving him a playfully harsh pinch on the nose. “kakavasha, i hear it’s your birthday today.”

the pout on his face when he hears you call him aventurine fades immediately upon hearing the next part of your sentence. he’s suddenly wide awake, because in no world had he expected anyone to celebrate his birthday for him again.

“what would you like to do?” you ask, signalling for your serpent to set him free from its coils.

he has no idea

he doesn’t celebrate his birthday anymore, unless someone gives him a cake

and even then, it’s as simple as he can make it

the day is associated with far, far too many bad memories

so much for being blessed, he thinks, but now that he’s let you into his life…

maybe this day doesn’t have to be filled with only painful memories now

and it’s not like he’s particularly worried about losing you in terms of death

and you seem pretty content staying with him right now

he’s still thinking. he’s still thinking about the things he wants to do.

there’s so much, but none significant enough to be done with you on such a special day

he wants to do something unique with you

something more than just go on a date(?), share a cake and cuddle

you stare at him, and you sigh, “your morning routine, at least.” you nudge him off your lap as you carefully swipe your thumbs along his lashes. “you have eye boogers.”

kakavasha sputters and flushes. oh, you’ve just ruined his ethereal sleeping beauty image by pointing out he has eye boogers. he almost teleports into the bathroom after you’ve said that, and you run your hands along your serpent like you didn’t just almost give him a heart attack.

you have no plan either, if we’re being honest

all you can think of is to shift everything off his schedule so he can take a break

you did think about taking him on a day trip

but like… where? it’s not like you have a hometown to show him

but just going anywhere doesn’t quite feel right, either

you’ve also thought of giving him an audience with your primal form as a gift, but…

isn’t that nightmare fuel?

and also, you’ve never outright told him about your path, or much about yourself (though you’re pretty sure he’s made some guesses)…

so that’s a no

“what should we do?” you mumble, as your leviathan curls around your neck and stares at you with its maw

it does a biting motion with its maw and tilts its head

“brunch?” you raise a brow at its suggestion

how the hell did you get to brunch from that one little move

also, who would’ve thought that you knew how to cook?

then again, if anyone’s been around as long as you have, they’d know a few handy skills

“woah… you can cook?” kakavasha walks out, looking fresh, as he sees you sliding plate after plate onto the countertop. “i thought you didn’t need to eat?”

“not a need, but i like flavors.” you reply, pointing him towards a chair with your spatula. “sit. i’m almost done.”

while you’re at it, you slide him a mug of mildly sweetened coffee mixed with milk tea

non-authentic xianzhou beverage because you only have access to whatever expensive coffee and teas your boss has stocked at home

you’re not cooking up anything fancy, really, just quick things

like… breakfast items level quick and simple

except you’ve never once cooked in front of him, so he thinks this is all really new

plus it’s you, you’re cooking for him, putting your heart into it, how could he not feel all tingly inside?

!!! do you even know !!! how much you make him swoon !!! with these subconscious things you do !!!

(you generally don’t, though you have the tiniest, tiniest idea in the far back of your mind)

when you finish up and sit down across him, his instinct is to try to feed you

you flinch backwards because what you saw was a fork coming straight at your face

and then you see it’s him trying to feed you, but now you’ve spooked him

he’s got the saddest pout you’ve ever seen on him

did you not like being fed?? :(

before he could pull his hand away, however, you gently take his wrist and let him feed you

you have no idea how much he loves how careful every touch of yours is

this is kakavasha’s first time having food made by someone dear to him since he became aventurine, and he could almost cry at the mere emotional implications of such a gesture, especially when it's from you.

“if you don’t mind…” kakavasha pokes at his plate with his fork as he slowly starts, “i… don’t want to go anywhere. just stay here with me?”

“of course,” comes your reply, “anything you want.”

he’s the birthday boy, come on, there’s no way you’re going to deny him his wishes?

you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone eat while crying and still somehow manage to scarf down so much

but you’re having your eyes opened right now

“it’s not going anywhere,” you say, knowing full well your words will fall on deaf ears, “slow down…”

well, whatever makes him happy, you suppose

you made all this mostly for him anyway

you pick up a few pieces of this and that and feed it to the leviathan waiting on your shoulder

and then you pick up a pancake for yourself

and when you turn back to the table, he’s cleared out every dish

granted, you made like five in total, so it’s really not a big feast…

but still, you didn’t think it was possible

you ask, “should i cook more often?”

he hops off his chair and decides to squeeze next to you in yours

you naturally slip an arm around his waist and pull him into your lap

“will you?” he raises his question in a trembling whisper, like he’s just been offered the world

“i don’t mind.” you say, as you stack the dishes together and prepare to clean up

he buries his face in your neck. “the housekeeper can do it… i want to cuddle.”

you find yourselves on the rooftop. obviously, kakavasha is latching onto you this whole time, so you’re the one who lugged both him and you up the stairs. time passes by quickly, even if you spend it in comfortable silence; before you know it, the moon hangs high in the sky and the glittering stars are out.

“you really like it here.” you state, an observation based on how many times you’ve found him up here late at night.

“that i do,” he replies quietly, wanting nothing more than just to melt into you. “give me your hand?”

you raise a brow as you offer him your hand

he runs his fingers over yours, holding your hand with both of his, tracing every knuckle and every finger

“do you pray?” he asks, suddenly, breaking the trance you’ve fallen into as he touched your hand

you’re not a particularly religious person, but…

“i’m not opposed to the idea,” you say

then it’s enough, he thinks, then he’ll entrust you with a ritual of his people

he’ll give you a very, very important piece of him

after all, he knows he’s in good hands now – you’ll take care of him, won’t you?

he moves your hand around, then, until your palms are flat against each other

you can tell right away what he’s trying to do, and your heart swells with a torrent of emotions

“may the mother goddess thrice close her eyes for you...” kakavasha begins, his voice shaky just as his person. he interrupts himself with a breathless whisper – “repeat after me.”

he takes a deep breath, calming his mind as he comes to terms with how much he will be baring before you. it’s alright, isn’t it? you’ll treasure all that he is. “– keeping your blood eternally pulsing. may your journey be forever peaceful, and your schemes forever concealed.”

you repeat his words a little clumsily, and you press your hand a little tighter against his. it doesn’t take a genius to see that this is such a fragile moment, one where kakavasha’s past, present, and future intersects. where his pain and his solace meet, and where all that he holds dear are at the very forefront of his mind as he finds his way forward. he trembles in your embrace, tiny sobs ripping from his throat as he struggles to keep your palms together.

you briefly wonder if this would be blasphemous, you holding him tightly with your free hand. “shh,” you coo, “shh. take a break, even if just for today…”

it’s too cruel to demand him to keep fighting even on his birthday. you try to shield him from all that is around you with your scarf and your figure, just as you want to shield him from all that could hurt him in the world. the night winds are chilly, but between you and him, you are warm.

“happy birthday, kakavasha.”

#honkai star rail #aventurine #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #ares's voracity pathstrider tales

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halsteadlover · 1 year

Text

Exam Buddy

*Gif not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Jay Halstead x Female!Reader.

• Requested by anon: Hi! I saw that your requests were open and I was wondering if I could please request a Jay Halstead x Detective Student Reader (she’s in her last year of her uni/established relationship) stressed out with her exams and Jay just comforts her kinda like a fluff to smut path? Thank you inadvance! :) loved your writing so I decided to request for the first time!

• Warnings: mention of nudity, oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (always practice safe sex you guys), cursing, ugly ass writing (yeah that’s a warning too).

• Word count: 5182.

• A/N: PLEASE READ THIS ONLY IF YOU’RE 18+. That’s honestly so bad I don’t know what to think 😭 I hope you’ll like this piece regardless, please let me know what do you think, like, comment and reblog if you want. Thank you so much for your constant support, I will never shut up about it but I’m so grateful for all of you.

“Baby I'm home!”.

Jay announced as he walked through the door of the apartment you two shared, frowning when he got no response. There was an almost deathly silence in the house and he even doubted you were home for a moment.

“Baby? Where are you?” Jay spoke again placing the bags containing dinner on the kitchen table and then heading to your bedroom. He opened the door and a smile was born on his lips when he saw you sitting on the bed, your back to him. He went out in the afternoon and found you in the same position as he left you in the evening.

Without seeing your face, he already knew you had a pen between your lips as you chewed it in frustration. Your hair was tied up in a messy bun and you were wearing a t-shirt, obviously Jay's.

Numerous papers and notes were scattered on the bed, a sign you were still rehearsing and studying for your next detective exam. Jay walked over to the bed, realizing you hadn't even realized he was there yet.

“Hey,” he said placing his hands on your eyes, roaring as you literally jumped in fright.

“Are you out of your mind?! You scared the shit out of me!” you exclaimed raising your voice, your hand resting on your chest as you waited for your heartbeat to return to normal. “Go away, don't touch me,” you pushed him away when he, while he was still laughing out loud, tried to hug you. “You're a piece of shit you know that? You can't pop on me like that fuck's sake!”.

“Sorry love, I didn't mean to scare you,” Jay tried to justify himself, smiling at you. You rolled your eyes and returned your gaze to the note sheet you were trying to memorize. He removed some papers to make space and sat in front of you, so he could have a good look at you. “Why aren’t you looking at me?” he chucked.

“I'm mad at you now.”

“Why’s that my sweet princess?”.

“Because you almost gave me a heart attack!” you exclaimed looking at him not amused at all.

Jay tried to hold back his laughter and pulled you by your hands, wrapping you in a hug. “In my defense, I called you several times and you didn't answer me,” he kissed your forehead as he stroked your back “Can I make it up to you with dinner? I brought some Mexican, your favorite.”

Your eyes lit up when you heard those last words and in that same instant your stomach rumbled. “Mh, maybe.”

Jay chuckled and squeezed you tighter. “Now woman, are you going to give me a kiss or not? I missed you so much today.”

You smiled and lifted your head, placing a hand on his cheek and drawing him to you in a kiss. He almost moaned into the kiss, having no idea how much he'd missed your lips until they were pressed against his.

His hand stroked the side of your face, and a sigh escaped your lips as he let his tongue slip in your mouth, deepening the kiss and completely taking your breath away.

“Come on love let's go eat, I can't waste time, I still have to study,” you murmured once you pulled away.

“Since when is kissing your boyfriend a waste of time?” he asked rhetorically, raising an eyebrow.

You jostled him playfully. “Don't say that, you know exactly what I mean. I have the exam in three weeks and I'm literally not even halfway through the program, Jay I can't...”

“Hey, hey, hey, stop,” he soothed you placing his hands on your cheeks, “My love, everything will be fine, I know how you feel and I know you're under a lot of stress. How about we go eat now? Let's talk a bit and if you want I'll help you study later mmh?”.

You and Jay sat on the couch eating dinner and talked about how your days had gone. However, your mind was not at ease and you couldn’t stop thinking about the amount of pages you’d have to study and how little time you had. Anxiety was gripping your stomach and by then you couldn't concentrate anymore on nothing else but this damned exam.

Jay was trying to be as close to you as he could. His heart ached to see you so stressed out and worried, and God, he would’ve taken all the anxiety you felt not letting you worry one second of your life. He knew how you felt, he too had been there, but seeing you like this wasn't equally easy and not being able to do anything to make you feel more serene made him feel helpless like few other times in his life.

It felt like your life revolved around this damn exam. You couldn't think of anything else anymore. When you woke up in the morning the first thought was to go to study and when you went to sleep the last thought was how much you should’ve study the day after. You knew it wasn't healthy and you knew you were on the verge of loosing your mind.

It was just after midnight when Jay woke up.

He didn't realize he fell asleep and when he touched the side of the bed, he wasn't surprised to find out you weren't there. He sighed before sitting on the bed and standing up, walking towards the living room where – as he suspected – he found you.

You were sitting on the sofa, countless papers scattered around you as you stared at the notes resting on your legs. You went there to let Jay rest after he fell asleep while you studied. At that point, though, you couldn't even understand what you were reading anymore but you didn't want to give up, you couldn't.

Jay approached you from behind and was careful this time to make sure to let you know he was there. “Baby,” he said, placing his hands on your shoulders and starting to massage them. God, you were tighter than a violin string.

That pleasant touch made you close your eyes for a few seconds, throwing your head back and touching Jay's bare abdomen.

“What are you doing awake? Go to sleep honey, it's been a long day for you,” you muttered, eyes still closed as Jay's hands worked their magic on you. He looked down at you and a small smile was born on his lips when he saw the expression of contentment and relaxation on your face.

“I can't go back to sleep knowing you're here,” he replied and leaned over to give you a kiss on the lips “Why don't you come to bed with me? You need to sleep baby, you can't go on like this.”

“I know, but I can't,” you sighed and then opened your eyes, reality hitting you full in the face again.

“Of course you can baby. Do you really think it's good for you to stay up late? I know for a fact you can't even concentrate right now,” he spoke. He let go of your shoulders and walked around the couch to kneel right in front of you, “Your brain needs to rest now, it needs to assimilate and process the information absorbed so far, it can't do that if you keep bombarding yourself with new notions.”

“I know honey but I don't have time... I still have so many things to do,” you murmured, your voice breaking with tiredness and on the verge of crying. Jay lifted his hand and gently stroked your cheek, smiling when you leaned against his touch.

“I know how you feel but this is not good for you my love. If you don't understand what you're studying, if you don't focus on what you do instead of how to do it in the most appropriate way so you can remember it, believe me, the moment you’ll take the exam you won't remember anything because you would’ve bombarded your brain with so much information and haven’t even given yourself time to make it your own,” he stroked your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear that escaped the bun “Don't think about how many things you have to do, it's the most destructive thing you can do baby. You can’t do anything without the constant thought that you have to do this and that, or am I wrong?”.

You slightly shook your head. He was right about every single word he said.

“Better two things done right than ten things done wrong, always remember that.”

“What if I'm asked eight of the ten things I haven't done?”.

“Y/N you underestimate yourself and your abilities,” he spoke softly as you stared at him and listening carefully to what he was saying, “You are one of the most talented people I know, I know you’re strong and nothing will stop you. If anyone is able to pass this exam, it's you.”

“What if I don't make it?” you whispered, your eyes watering.

“Who gives a fuck,” he replied “If you don't make it – which I really doubt – you'll get another chance, and if you don't make it either then you'll get the next chance. I'll still be proud of you like I've never been of anyone else, because I see how much you're committed, how much you're giving your all. But don’t forget this, you mustn't lose yourself, you mustn't sacrifice your health, your well-being for a stupid exam, it isn’t worth it and it will never be, okay? Nothing is more important than you, you understand me?”.

You nodded, trying to pry every ounce of your being to not to cry. You threw your arms around his neck and hugged him like you've never done before. “God Jay, I don't deserve you… I'm so lucky to have you.”

He wrapped his arms around your hips, pulling you close to him and hugging you with all the love and affection he was capable of. His hands drew imaginary circles on your back as he stroked you gently and tenderly in an attempt to soothe you and make all the anxieties and fears that tormented you go away.

You left kisses on his shoulder and then on his cheek, hugging and squeezing him again as if your life depended on it.

“It's okay baby, it's okay, I’ll always be by your side no matter what,” he whispered and your heart made a small jump in your chest, starting to beat wildly. God, you loved that man, so damn much and so intensely you couldn't even describe it.

“I'm so sorry,” you muttered so softly you didn't even know if he heard you. But when he pulled away slightly from the hug and looked at you with confusion, you realized he had heard you instead. “Why, love?”

“I feel like I've been neglecting you these last few weeks because of this damn exam and I feel so guilty… You… You’re so nice and understanding to me baby and I don't deserve you…” You didn't finish the sentence because Jay covered your mouth with his hand.

“Quit this bullshit, okay?” You nodded your head and he removed his hand from your mouth, then placed it on your side. “Don't ever say those things again, do you hear me? I don't know what assholes you used to deal with in the past but it's not a burden to me. God baby, I would kill to make you feel better and get all this weight off your shoulders.”

You smiled. “I love you so much, you know that right?”.

He giggled and he gave you a kiss. “I know and I love you too very much my baby. So how about you come to bed with me and get some rest now?”.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers stroking his hair. You took few moments to admire him, observing every single detail of his face, something you felt you hadn't done for a long, long time.

Jay's hands stroked your lower back as he smiled tenderly at you. His eyes sparkled as they looked at you with so much love you felt overwhelmed.

“Y/N don't look at me like that,” he whispered.

“Like what?” you whispered back, while your gaze alternated between his eyes and his lips and occasionally even on his bare chest.

“With these doe eyes, you know what you do to me.”

“I'm not doing anything,” you licked your lips and that was the point where he lost his mind. He sighed deeply, trying to stop the blood flow to his dick.

“Oh baby you know damn well what you're doing,” he retorted, that panty-ripping grin on his lips. Without saying anything else, you grabbed his face and pulled him into a deep and passionate kiss that left you both breathless within moments.

A confused look came over your face as Jay let go of you, standing up. He went around the sofa and positioned himself behind you, then placing his hands on your shoulders again and starting to massage them carefully.

“Mmmh,” you let out a moan as your muscles melted under his expert and careful touch. That little moan went straight to Jay's dick, he tried to keep his composure and not act like a horny twelve year old but fuck, you were so hard to resist.

“Oh baby, this feels so good,” you moaned as his fingers continued to work their magic on your muscles.

“Y/N. Stop it,” he warned you, not thinking he could keep his cool any longer and not literally fuck you right there and then.

“Doing what?” you asked innocently, smiling even though he couldn't see you.

“Moaning like that. You’re driving me crazy.” Before you could answer he leaned close to you, leaving a small kiss on the bare skin of your neck. That simple gesture was enough to send shivers down your spine and make you forget everything.

“How about we study for a little bit honey?” he whispered and another moan escaped your lips as Jay began to leave small and languid kisses down your jaw, your neck where he lingered and began his intense torture. His lips sucked your skin, his teeth nibbled at it, his tongue licked it making you completely lose your mind. “Come on baby.”

“I… I can’t…” you stuttered, not able to function properly.

“Why not? Wasn't that what you wanted?”.

“God Jay… You drive me crazy…”

“And you know how crazy it drives me to see you in just my shirt? It's been so long since I touched you.” Jay's hands slid from your shoulders onto your chest, then onto your abdomen, with an unbearable slowness you couldn't even keep yourself still.

“Can I?” he asked in a whisper and the speed with which you answered was embarrassing. “Yes, oh my god, yes.”

He chuckled and as his lips started nibbling your ear, his hands slipped under your/his shirt, reaching up to cup your breasts. He started massaging it, pinching your hard nipples with his fingers. “Goddamn baby, I love your breast so damn much... So fucking perfect.”

“Jay please…”

He took off your shirt, thus leaving you with only your panties in front of his lustful gaze. He walked in front of you again and didn't even try to disguise the audacity with which his eyes devoured your body. From your shoulders, to your breasts, going down your sides, your pussy - still for a little while - covered, up to your sinuous legs.

On the other hand, you didn't spare yourself either. Jay was there in front of you and he looked like a fucking Greek god. His muscular arms, his chest and abdomen sculpted as if by a sculptor with a hammer and picket, his V-line that disappeared into the gray suit which did nothing but highlight his throbbing erection. Everything about him drove you crazy and the more you looked at him the more you couldn't wait to have him. God you were so lucky.

Being with him was better than winning the lottery.

“Come here,” you said, when you finally brought your eyes back to him. However, though, you couldn't help alternating them between his face and his erect dick that you so ardently wanted inside you.

“Impatient baby?” he smirked, approaching you. He leaned towards you, placing one hand on the arm of the sofa and another on the backrest, effectively trapping you in his arms. You were intoxicated, mesmerized by his scent, his body, by him.

You placed your hands on his chest, feeling how his skin was on fire. He cocked his head to the side, looking at you with such intensity you almost felt like dying. But the way he licked his lips, like he was the predator ready to devour his prey, God, that completely took the breath away from your lungs.

You leaned in to kiss him but when he pulled back a bewildered expression appeared on your face.

“You don’t even want to kiss me?“ you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Oh believe me baby, kissing you doesn't even come close to the things I want to do to you. I want fuck every single thing you studied out of your brain,” he replied, making you wetter than you already were. By then you were a complete mess and your pussy was throbbing with the desire to feel his fingers, his tongue, his dick inside you. “But I thought about what I said earlier.”

“Jay please touch me, I can't take it anymore,” you blurted out, not caring in the slightest how pathetic you sounded.

He chuckled, further building the frustration and anger inside you. He kissed you but as you tried to deepen the kiss he pulled back, making you huff with impatience. “I'm hating you so much right now. Stop teasing me like that.”

“Oh my little princess is so impatient, don't worry love I'm not going to leave you like this, fuck, god knows how much I can't wait to have my dick inside you, but I've been thinking about something.”

You rolled your eyes, frustrated and eager. “What?”.

“I think you should continue studying.”

“Wait, what? Are you serious? I'm half naked in front of you and all you have to say is 'you should continue studying'?”.

“Exactly,” he smiled at you, taking the notebook you were studying from and placing it next to you “I'll help you repeat and maybe give you an incentive.”

“Incentive?”.

Jay reached down and placed his hands on your breasts, massaging them vigorously before wrapping his lips around your right tit, sucking, licking and biting your nipple.

You moaned, arching your back to meet his movements. Your hand rested on the back of his neck, as you stroked his hair. A groan escaped your lips when he pulled away from your breasts but your body vibrated with anticipation when his hands descended along your hips, then taking off your panties and throwing them in an indefinite point of the room.

At that moment you were naked, completely at his mercy and you couldn't wait to be used as he pleased.

Your breath died in your throat when Jay, without ever breaking eye contact, spread your legs wide enough to have a perfect view of your wet pussy after settling between them.

“Now you're going to be a good girl and study like you wanted to do and I'll be here to listen to you okay?” he spoke while his hands caressed your thighs as a sign of provocation “In the meantime I will entertain myself by licking this gorgeous pussy of yours.”

“Jay c'mon please. You know very well that… Oh fuck…” you finished the sentence with a loud moan when Jay stuck out his tongue and gave a long, slow lick of your folds.

Just licking you after what he felt like forever was enough to make him moan. The expression of pure ecstasy on your face, God, that vision alone was almost enough to make him come in his pants before you even touched him.

“Shit baby I missed this pussy so damn much,” he murmured in ecstasy, as if he'd just stepped through the gates of heaven, his eyes locked on you as you squirmed under his touch. His thumb drew imaginary circles on your clit, making you moan uncontrollably as pleasure coursed through your veins. “C’mon. Study now.”

“Jay… I… Oh yeah fuck just keep going…” you moaned, your hands resting all over the couch in an attempt to give you some support. Jay, however, suddenly stopped and an unsatisfied groan escaped your lips. “What did I just tell you?”.

“Baby please it's not fair… I can't…” you whimpered like a little girl whose sweets had just been stolen. He nodded at the notebook next to you and, letting out a long series of profanities that made him chuckle, you took it, opening it to any page.

“Now read, I want to hear you talk.”

You did as he said, wanting nothing more than to have an orgasm, and you started reading even if your mind didn't have the slightest idea of what you were saying, too focused on his tongue which then started licking your pussy again.

Jay pressed his nose against your pussy, inhaling your smell, that smell he missed so much, burying his mouth in your folds, making you a mess of sighs, moans and groans, making a mess on his mouth, dripping with your wetness.

Jay never took his eyes off you for a second, licking, sucking on your clit and all your fluids. His tongue alternated slow movements with faster ones, making you lose you mind.

“Keep going. If you stop, I'll stop too,” he spoke but you seemed to be on another planet. He grabbed your thighs, wrapping them around his neck as you spontaneously squeezed him between them. God, he couldn't have been in a better place, he could’ve choked to death like this and still be the happiest man on earth.

You tried to read, you really tried, but it was impossible. Your vision was clouded with pleasure, you couldn't utter a single word without a long series of moans escaping your lips. At that point you were sure that everyone heard you, but you didn't care, you were only focused on Jay, his tongue and the finger he was fucking you with.

“Oh yeah baby you make me feel so fucking good..." you sighed, now out of breath.

“Keep going darling, you're being such a good girl,” he murmured as he ate you as if he was a hungry man who hadn't eaten anything for days. He replaced the finger inside of you with his tongue, fucking you with it. As his tongue went in and out of you, his thumb continued to massage your clit, making you completely lose all ability to think.

You threw your head back, arching your back as you began to feel the orgasm building inside you, your notes now completely forgotten. Your body seemed to go into spasms and you didn't know how much longer you would be able to resist.

“Jay…” you moaned his name and it was so fucking sexy that Jay wanted to record it and put it as his cell phone ringtone. He knew you were close, after a long time together he had gotten to know your body and knew when you were about to come. Your legs were shaking, your breathing was heavy as if you were running, your movements against his face were impetuous, messy. He didn't stop. He started to fucking you with two of his fingers, and as he sucked your clit you finally exploded into an orgasm so intense you thought you were dying.

You didn't know if you could die from an orgasm, have a heart attack because of pleasure, but that's exactly what you felt in that moment and, fuck, it was so beautiful. You felt your vision blur, your body fluctuated as if you were in space and for an instant you lost the space-time conception.

You remained for a few moments with your eyes closed, trying to recover and come to your senses.

Jay was taken aback when after a minute you pulled him to you, kissing him like your life depended on it. His lips and beard were still wet with your fluids and you could feel your taste in his mouth while you deep kissed him.

Your hands pulled down his pants along with his boxers and he kicked them off, standing naked in front of you in all his glory. God you wanted nothing more than to feel it inside you.

“Baby… Oh, holy shit,” he hissed as you wrapped your hand around his dick and started stroking it. “Fuck yes,” his hips began to move in sync with the movement of your hands and his arms struggled to hold him up as the pleasure flowed freely through his veins.

“I need to be inside of you baby, I can't take it anymore,” he groaned, as he tried to leverage all of his strength to try not to come after even a minute.

He settled between your legs, grabbing one and placing it on his shoulder and with almost excruciating slowness he penetrated you, slipping inside you and finally filling that void you felt.

A guttural moan escaped his mouth and he didn't know how he managed not to come instantly. Jay remained in that position, still, trying to enjoy every single moment, feeling your pussy clench, soaking wet, around his needy dick. You started to get impatient, feeling the need to feel him moving inside you growing more and more. “Baby please, fuck me… I need it so bad,” you started moving underneath him, slightly moving your hips to seek some relief, to hit that magical spot inside you and Jay almost had a heart attack, already on the verge of losing control.

“Jesus Christ… Fuck Y/N…” he cursed “It feels so good to be buried inside you… You make me lose my goddamn mind…”

Finally, he began to move his hips, with slow, decisive, calculated movements and the moans you began to make were so hot they could compete with a porn film actress. His dick masterfully fucked you, tortured you and with every single damn thrust he left you wanting, craving for more.

“Jay please… Faster…” you cried out, your hands on his chest. One arm was around your leg while the other rested next to your head on the back of the sofa. Your eyes were fixed on each other, the green of his irises mingling with yours. You never took your eyes off the other even as his dick came out and disappeared inside you with more vigor, more strength and decision this time.

It was a higher level of intimacy, you seemed to be a whole and not only from a physical point of view because it was not only your bodies that made love but also your souls.

“Oh yes baby… Just like that fuck…” you moaned loudly, completely lost in the pleasure Jay was giving you. Your fingers pressed more firmly against his skin, causing him scratches that you didn't even realize at first.

“Baby I won’t last any longer if you keep clenching around me like that,” he breathed out, his eyes alternating between yours and your parted lips. “Please kiss me.”

You lifted yourself slightly and without having him to tell you twice, you fulfilled his wish. It was a messy, wet kiss, both totally lost in each other as he continued to fuck you. You couldn't kiss each other without stopping and moaning into each other's lips, as the sound of your skins filled the room.

“My god… Ah yeah… I love you so fucking much Jay…” you whispered as your faces were still so close, your mouths touching as you swallowed each other's breath and moans.

Jay didn't expect to feel what he felt with that simple statement. It wasn't the words, it certainly wasn't the first time you said you loved him, but it was the way you said it, so vulnerable, in the throes of uncontrollable pleasure while his dick continued to mercilessly fuck you, so sensual but at the same time whispered so softly it made his heart melt.

“Y/N…” he moaned your name like a little prayer “What the hell are you doing to me baby, I love you so much too… Ah… So fucking perfect, shit.”

Jay felt he was close and by the way you clenched around his dick he knew you were too. His movements began to be faster, more disorderly.

“Yes baby you want to come for me mmh? Do you want to fill my pussy with your cum?” you sensually beat your lashes driving him further crazy, while your fingers touched and stimulated your clit.

“Fuck baby, fuck, fuck, I'm coming... Holy shit!” he gasped and with one last thrust he let himself go into an overwhelming orgasm, releasing every single drop of his cum inside you. You came almost immediately too, rocked with the waves of pleasure that continued to course through your body and make you toes curl.

Jay collapsed onto the couch next to you but before you knew it he was pulling you onto him, wrapping his arms around your body and hugging you tightly against him.

If the sex was mind blowing, the cuddles after sex were almost better. God only knew how much you both loved being embraced like this, one on top of the other, your naked and hot bodies in contact.

“Shit if this is how you study for an exam I won't even get up to go to the bathroom,” you murmured, your eyes closed from tiredness. Jay chuckled, his chest vibrating under your head.

“I'll be happy to help you baby, I won't back down you know,” he replied too with his eyes closed as his fingers caressed the bare skin of your back, up and down, from your shoulders to your lower back. “Babe?” he continued when he got no answer. He lifted his head slightly to be able to look at you and a smile crept onto his lips as he noticed you immediately fell asleep.

“My sweet baby,” he whispered, leaving a kiss on your forehead and stroking your now messy and disheveled hair, at the same time letting out a sigh of happiness and contentment. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me you know that? God, I will never stop saying how lucky I was to meet you and have you in my life,” he continued softly giving you another kiss on the forehead, cradling you in his arms, “I'm so proud of you, you can't imagine how much. Now rest okay? I will always be here by your side. Sweet dreams my love.”

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freak-accident419 · 7 months

Text

The Little Things

Josh Futturman x GN!Reader

Summary: Upset that Josh has been overly stressed and traumatized recently, you decide to surprise him with a short getaway, a temporary escape—you were going to take him to see a dinosaur.

WC: 1.8k

Content: fluff, mentions of death, gender neutral reader, short but sweet, kissing, listening to music, quiet yet comfortable company, few curse words

(A/n: this oneshot is heavily inspired by the movie Palm Springs which was brought to my attention from something @rynsfandomsfun reblogged—it was a sweet movie. Also, don’t play the preview of the song attached, but listen from the beginning when it plays in the fic :) )

“Hey. Wake up…”

Your gentle voice and light shaking seemed to do the trick as you sat patiently on the edge of his bed. “Y/n?” Josh grumbles drowsily, gradually waking up as he rubs his eyes with his fingers. “Shit… what time is it…?”

You chuckle amusedly at his demeanor. “Approximately two a.m. But that’s not so important,” you answer, watching him use his arms to lift himself up against his bed frame, now in a sitting position.

He faced you with groggy bewilderment until his eyes suddenly widened once they inevitably trailed over to your lap. “Shit—Y/n, is that the TTD?” Josh gasped. The revelation seemed to have woken him up completely, his shock clashing with your nonchalant smirk. “But that would mean—”

“Yes, I stole it from Tiger and Wolf while they were sleeping. And yeah, I’m aware they’d kill me if they ever found out, but they’ll never know we even left, ’cause lucky for us, now we have a damn time machine,” you grin softly.

“‘Left’? Wait, what—what are we doing?”

You chuckle, admiring the adorably confounded look on his face. You were so thrilled to break the news to him, anticipating his reaction. “I’m gonna take you to see a dinosaur.”

You didn’t mean to get tied into all of this. Well, technically, none of you were meant to. However, Josh was your best friend, and one day, you two hung out in his room as you watched him play and attempt to beat his favorite game Biotic Wars. And you never would’ve guessed the shit you both would go through after that.

As his best friend, you knew him very well and were able to read him even if he was across the room from you. Therefore, you could always sense when he was upset and miserably exhausted. So when those two airheaded dipshits from the future constantly mistreated and belittled him, you couldn’t help but feel resentment towards them and pity towards your best friend. And the moment you saw him covered in his co-workers’ blood after him witnessing his colleagues brutally chop them up to shove inside a possum incinerator, you were just about done with all of this bullshit.

So when the day became night, you snuck into Tiger and Wolf’s weird sewer hideout, stealing their TTD. And then you snuck into Josh’s house, planning to steal him too.

Josh’s face beams as he heard your proposal, and it was probably the first time you’ve seen him genuinely smile ever since he got involved in that savior crap.

“I’m gonna see a dinosaur?” You answered him with a smug nod. “You’re not fucking with me? I’m gonna see a dinosaur? H-holy—holy shit!”

You knew he wanted this before, hell, you were right there when he begged Tiger and Wolf for it back in 1969. And so, because of all the bullshit he undeservingly had to deal with, you wanted to give him a break or reward. You just wanted to see your friend happy again, like how he was before this entire mess.

In life, you had to enjoy the little things—which says a lot about your lives right now, considering that traveling back in time to see a dinosaur could be considered as such. The two of you needed a break, even just for less than a day where you didn’t have to worry about saving the world or killing people.

You take out an index card and found a pen on his desk. “What time is it?” You ask him, taking the cap off of the pen with your teeth.

“Uh, two—uh, two thirty-four,” he answered after glancing at the clock. “Am I—Am I seriously going to see a dinosaur? Are—are we actually going to the jurassic period?”

You scribbled down the time so you’d know when exactly you should get back, just to avoid any complications. “Yes,” your answer was muffled as you laugh softly, taking the cap out of your mouth to place it back over the pen. You shoved the note in your pocket then took Josh’s hand, helping him get up from his bed to stand up in his room. You open the TTD and began to play around with the controls.

“Do you even know how to use that thing?” He asked, looking over all the cryptic symbols and confusing interface, then back at you.

“Uhh, general idea,” you reply, clicking around the device some more until you finally placed your arm around his shoulder. “You ready, Josh?”

He blinked, then nodded eagerly. “Are you serious? Hell, yeah! Holy shit! No way! I’m gonna see an actual, fucking dinosaur!”

You weren’t quite used to the feeling of traveling through time, but at least it got easier every time you did. Bright blue lights and volts surrounded the two of you, feeling a gust of wind blow into your face and whole being, and even heat from the electrical currents. And then, in less than five seconds, you two appeared in a jungle, late at night, in the late jurassic period.

***

You two sat down on a thick branch of a tallish tree, the soft light of the moon kissing your faces. It was dangerous to be in such a wild and unpredictable time, surrounded by deadly, barbaric creatures, so the tree would be a pretty safe place to watch the dinosaurs from. Except the surrounding area was practically empty, so you just waited for them to emerge.

Your shoulders brushed as you enjoyed the silence between the two of you—which was actually ceased fairly quickly once Josh communicated a thought that had practically gnawed at him for days.

“Hey, I just wanna say I’m, uh… I’m sorry that I dragged you into this, Y/n,” he finally says, looking at you pitifully. He looked really nice in the moonlight, you thought. “Wolf and Tiger, they’re insane, and I—shit, if I never invited you over then none of this would fucking—”

“Hey, hey, shut up, will you?” You snickered, offering a forgiving grin. “You didn’t drag me into this. The both of us never would’ve expected any of this bullshit, okay? Like, genuinely.” Josh nodded, but you still sensed some remaining guilt in him. “Hey. If I was gonna be wrapped into this crazy fucking mess with somebody, I’m glad it was with you. You’re my best friend. My ride or die.”

The corner of his lips curled into a sweet, appreciative smile. “Thanks,” he replied coyly. “And, uh, thanks for this. I know there’s no dinosaurs right now, but… I really appreciate the gesture. Like, Tiger and Wolf, they would’ve—”

“They definitely would’ve killed me, yes,” you laughed softly. “But… you’re worth all the crazy fucking discipline.”

With this lighting, you could never see how his cheeks flushed pink. But you knew he was blushing, from how the corner of his eyes crease and the way his wide smile accentuated his cheeks, revealing his pearly white, perfect teeth. He lets out a quiet giggle, and the two of you continued to watch the horizon of the dark, yet mesmerizing prehistoric view.

You two held each other’s hands, interlocking one another’s fingers warmly, placing the clasped fists between each other. There was some kind of unspoken thing between you two that you never had time to figure out, mainly because of the recent things you’ve been dealing with. But it was still there, that strange, lingering feeling.

And then…

“Holy shit!” Josh gasped abruptly, sitting up, patting onto your shoulder repeatedly, then pointing his finger far out into the distance. “Y/n, look, shit, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n—”

“Wh—” Your breath hitched as you saw it in front of you. “Shit…”

The several long necks and small heads of brontosauruses were in the distance, peeking out of the whole jungle and its trees, walking slowly towards the left in front of the iridescent moon.

It was beautiful. You never expected it to be. Actually, you really didn’t expect anything, you thought it’d be too surreal to even process. But they were exactly like the history books. They were like the CGI graphics in film and games, the images displayed near their exhibits at museums, the small long, plastic figures that come in clear tubes, and hell, a scene from Spielberg’s Jurassic fucking Park.

“They’re beautiful…” Josh sighs in complete awe.

“They really are…” you mutter, still fascinated by it all, watching the family of dinosaurs walk slowly together, letting out low moans and stomps with each heavy step.

Abruptly, you take out your phone from your pocket, as well as some earbuds. You plug it in, help Josh with the left earpiece and put the right one in yours. And then, you clicked onto a song that you had downloaded prior.

The gentle song began to play softly in your ears. The two of you were mesmerized by the beauty and magnificence of these creatures that you never thought you’d ever see. Your head moves down to rest on Josh’s shoulder as you two admired the dinosaurs from afar. The light pressure of you against his shoulder tickled him slightly, which he gulped at, heat rising to his cheeks. Your contact against him felt warm and you felt safe. Even though this was a place where you would most likely get mauled brutally by ‘clever girl’s, you felt nearly invincible with your best friend by your side.

“This is amazing…” he whispered, astonished.

“Yeah,” you sigh, mocking his quiet speech.

A pause.

“You’re amazing…”

You slowly pull away from his shoulder curiously, your eyes leaving the direction of the large, majestic animals. Your eyes look deeply into his, again, the moonlight shining exquisitely on the side of his face, bright enough to reveal some of the hazel tint in his irises. You felt your eyelashes flutter each time you looked from his eyes to his lips. He, too, looked at you intimately and fondly. And then your eyes closed gently once you feel his lips press against yours, hearing the song continue in your ears. The entire moment felt so magical, that you weren’t sure if it was because of the fact that you were in a place where dinosaurs existed or that you were kissing the person you’ve always admired.

You pull away slowly, a silent exchange of eye contact, before kissing him again, with more passion and less hesitance, letting your hands rest behind his neck.

There were no more words between the two of you after. In a good, serene way. Parting from his lips, you rested your head back onto his shoulder, feeling his arm around you from the back and his hand holding your waist. And you two continued to watch the dinosaurs under the stars, holding each other’s hands once more. Enjoying the little things, for now.

You could let this moment go on forever. After all, with the TTD, you had all the time in the world.

#future man #future man 2017 #future man x reader #josh futturman x reader #josh futturman x you #josh futturman x gn!reader #josh futterman #josh futterman x reader #josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson fluff #mike schmidt x reader #clapton davis x reader #peeta mellark x reader #josh futturman x f!reader #josh futturman x m!reader #gender neutral reader #male reader

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lau219 · 2 months

Text

After Hours

•• Robert Fischer x Reader ••

Mood Boards Previously shared sneak peek

Part 1

…………………………………………………………………………….

“You forgot to sign again,” Y/N said, lifting her head after glancing over the sheets of paper in her hand.

She’d been about to move on to the next topic they needed to discuss, but then she noticed the one thing she needed from him was missing from the document. As usual.

“Robert,” she said.

Holding the pages back out to him, she waited for him to take them from her outstretched hand, but he’d already looked away to look at a message on his phone, distracted and not replying to her.

She raised her volume slightly.

“Robert.”

He didn’t even flinch.

“Robert!”

There we go.

“What?!” He lifted his head and looked back to her, frustration and surprise clear on his face as he furrowed his brow at her shouting.

“You didn’t sign this,” Y/N replied, her voice at a normal volume again, looking at him with equal frustration. “I need you to sign this.”

Not responding, instead just blowing out an exasperated breath, Robert glanced down at her hand and took the papers from her after setting his phone down. Hastily, he signed them before handing them back to her and then picking up his phone again. He was scrolling through his messages while Y/N organized and tidied the papers.

“You sign your name on dozens of documents every day,” she said. “Yet somehow, whenever it’s something I need from you, you always seem to forget.”

Robert didn’t reply, picking up a pen from his desk and writing something down. Watching, Y/N tilted her head as she continued to look at him.

“You really ought to slow down a little,” she said. “You’re always rushing. You should slow down and take your time on things.”

Again, he didn’t respond.

“Are you just going to ignore me now?” she asked with irritation.

“If I do, will you stop pestering me?” Robert finally spoke, his eyes now on his computer screen.

She gave a small humorless laugh.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Fischer,” she replied, her tone sarcastically apologetic. “I didn’t realize that I had to somehow do the job I was hired to do without actually involving you in any way. If only it was my name on the building instead, hm?”

Finally, Robert turned to her again. When he looked at her standing there with her hand on her hip and her head tilted in annoyance, his immediate thought was how beautiful she looked even when she was frustrated with him. But as usual, he forced himself to push any thought like that back down and answer her instead.

“I’ll have your name put on the building if it means you’ll stop pestering me all the time,” he said to her, but not harshly.

“Or, you could save us both the aggravation and just sign things when I give them to you the first time,” she replied.

They looked at each other for a quick moment, and then Robert raised his eyebrows.

“It’s signed now, isn’t it?” he asked her smartly.

Rolling her eyes and shaking her head at his response, Y/N then pulled out the planner she always carried with her from under her arm. The floral design on the cover was, coincidentally, a perfect visual translation of her personality — colorful and vivid, yet elegant and soft.

But with Robert, Y/N’s softness sometimes gave way to something a little bolder, where, in situations like the one they were currently in, she wouldn’t tolerate him. She’d disregard the fact that he was the wealthy son of Maurice Fischer and co-owner of the company, that it was his money she was handing out, and that although she was a one-person department, he was still her boss. At times when he’d frustrate her, rather than grinning and bearing it, she’d let him know, in one way or another, that she was irritated.

And Robert let her get away with it.

Why? Maybe it was because she was incredibly good at her job. Maybe it was because he wasn’t nearly as much of an asshole as everyone assumed he was.

Or possibly, it was because he secretly could never stop thinking about her.

In truth, it was all of those things.

“The meeting with the candidates for the School of Arts grant is on Friday at 1:00 p.m.,” she said to him, continuing on again as she looked down at her planner. “I’ve narrowed it down to three schools, so we have to choose one after this meeting.”

Then she flipped the page.

“And we need to coordinate a time that works with your schedule to meet with the foundation board members. We need to convince them to give the homeless shelter another chance at the grant they were working for.”

“Why?” Robert asked, looking back to his desk.

“Because, unfortunately, they missed the deadline for submission due to some complications with the paperwork. So we need to restart the process again.”

Robert looked at her.

“You know the point of a deadline is to meet it?” he said, the hint of an amused smile on his face.

Y/N looked back at him.

“I know,” she said. “But this was out of the shelter’s employees’ control. City Hall didn’t get the documents they needed for submission back to them in time, so then their hands were tied.”

“Restarting the process means multiple new meetings with the board,” Robert continued.

“Yes,” she replied. “I know.”

“It would eat up a lot of time that we already spent on it the first time around,” Robert finished. “Not to mention, you already filled all my time next week with events for the last grant we awarded.”

Y/N tilted her head again.

“So are you saying you won’t do it?” she asked him.

When he just looked at her, she held his eyes as she spoke again.

“Please, Robert, this is a really important project.”

Robert smiled and shook his head.

“You say that about every grant proposal. You’re supposed to filter through them, Y/N, not try and get approval for every single one.”

“You and your father have the ability to make a difference, and that’s the whole reason your father hired me — to help you do that.”

“My father only agreed to starting a grant program because the board convinced him it would make the company look better,” Robert said to her. “Charity isn’t actually high on his priority list. Or on his list at all.”

Y/N gave a knowing smile then, laying her hand on his desk as she spoke.

“I know,” she said softly. “That’s why I’m asking you to approve the reapplication for this and not him.”

Robert looked at her again then, and there was something in her eyes that he couldn’t quite describe, but it seemed to be something almost akin to affection. It was the way he’d always imagine her looking at him. But once again, he pushed the thought down.

“You think I’ll say yes when we both know he’d say no to giving them another opportunity?” Robert said to her.

“Yes,” she nodded, continuing to smile, looking at him with those beautiful eyes.

“You really think I’m that much of a pushover?” he asked her, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

“No,” Y/N replied. “I don’t think you’re a pushover at all. But I know you’ll agree to do this.”

Robert raised an eyebrow.

“I’m pretty sure that means you think I’m a pushover,” he said.

Still looking at him, Y/N shook her head, her expression changing from warmly amused to serious.

“No, it doesn’t,” she said, holding his eyes. “It means that I think you’re a better man than your father.”

Part 2

@nyxxie-pooh @xsweetcatastrophe @febris-amatoria @allie131313 @meister95

@wonderlanddreamer @mspookington-blog @an-eclectic-of-mass-destruction @teawonderfultea-blog1 @shopgirl6us

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@the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf @cardan-official @4ria790 @vastcapacity @helftmich

#robert fischer x female reader #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer fic #robert fischer smut #burlesque #cillian murphy #cillian fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian x fem!reader

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upat4amwiththemoon · 1 year

Note

i need some wanda angst ANYTHING PLSS

Wretched mirrors

Summary: Mom, are your arms open tonight?

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x daughter!reader

Warnings: angst, cursing, complicated mother-daughter relationship, bad mental health

Word count: 2259

a/n: you asked for it

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @wandsmxmff @emsmultiverse @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

Wanda hums a Sokovian lullaby with a smile on her face, as she braids five-year-old Y/N’s hair into a french braid. Y/N is swinging her legs, as her short feet can’t reach the floor yet, while she’s watching Bluey. Sometimes she giggles at the characters ok the television, and sings the opening song with them, clapping when the episode starts.

Every once in a while, Wanda has to set Y/N’s head back into a good position, so she can actually braid her hair, buy she doesn’t mind. This is her favorite time.

It’s early morning, the sun has just risen. There’s porridge in the pot, ready for them to eat once the braids are done. Birds are chirping outside and Wanda is spending time with her little girl. And she loves that little girl with her full heart. Her eyes are so innocent and big, they shine every time she learns something new. Her hair and skin is so soft, Wanda loves to hold her close as much as possible. Her tiny nose and chubby cheeks are perfect for playful pinching. She’s perfect. She couldn’t have asked for a better babygirl.

“All done, Y/N!” Wanda crouches in front of her, looking at her handiwork. “You look so cute, baby.” She smiles with her teeth and Y/N giggles. “Are you ready for breakfast?”

“Uhuh!” She raises her arms high in the air.

Wanda grins and lifts her up to the side of her hip. “Oh my goodness, how did my little girl get so tall all of a sudden?” She gasps, twirling them around.

Y/N giggles, “you’re holding me, mommy!”

“What are you talking about?” She gasps even deeper this time, lifting one of her arms up. “I’m not holding anything in this hand.”

“No!” Her laugh is like music for Wanda’s ears. “Other hand, silly mommy.”

“Is mommy being silly again?”

“Yes.”

Smiling, Wanda rubs her nose against Y/N’s. “Yes, she is, silly mommy. But guess what?” She grins, rubbing her cheek. “You’re my daughter, so you’re just as silly!”

Y/N starts laughing with her full body. The sound echoes through the house, making Wanda’s heart ache with joy. Her eyes tingle as she stares at her daughter.

Her daughter.

She’ll never get tired of saying that.

The pots and pans clang loudly as Wanda washes them. She’s using a lot more force than necessary for washing dishes. Y/N is sitting at the kitchen table, a math book in front of her and a pen in her hand. She’s trying to math work for school, but instead she’s crying.

“I’m sorry, mommy.” She cries out, too scared to look at her mother. “I’m really sorry, mommy.”

Wanda doesn’t answer. She slams a plate to the drying rack. Y/N is scared a dish will break.

“I didn’t mean to do so badly, I just didn’t get it.”

The tap gets turned off with force. “Do you understand how badly you embarrassed me?” Her voice is loud. She walks over and stops right next to Y/N, who is still too scared to look at her in the eyes. “Your grades have been so bad, the principal asked me if there are troubles at home. Do you at least get what that means, huh? It means your teachers think I’m a shit mother!”

“I’m sorry!” The tears are coming out faster.

“And then you start crying in front of the principal? You don’t do things like that!”

“You were yelling and I-“

“Oh, it’s all my fault again. I guess I’m the fucking worst mom then!” Wanda throws her hands in the air, walking to the living room and sitting on the couch. She turns the television on.

Y/N gets out of her seat, “you aren’t the worst mom,” she walks a few steps closer, trying to talk over the loud sound of the television, “you are a good mom, please. No one think you’re the worst.”

When Wanda doesn’t answer, Y/N drops down to her knees and start sobbing loudly. Wanda doesn’t stand up and come to comfort her, she doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t even look at her. All she does, is watch the show, and let Y/N cry, until the tears stop and she goes back to doing her math work.

“I think there’s something wrong with me.” Is the first thing coming out of Y/N’s mouth since they got into the car.

They’ve been driving for twenty minutes towards the campsite where Y/N will be sending a week with her friends. There’s still and hour and a half left to drive.

“No honey there’s nothing wrong with you, you’re perfect.” Wanda assures, fiddling with the control of the radio. She’s trying to find a good channel. “You’re just thirteen and a teenager. It’s all normal.”

“No, mom,” she lets out a heavy sigh, “I think there’s really something wrong with me. Something doesn’t feel right in my head.”

“You’re just tired.”

“But the tiredness is never ending!” She turns her head to look at Wanda. “Look at me, please, mom. I need you to see me. There’s something wrong with me and I need you to see it too.”

Wanda’s eyes stay on the road. “Stop saying that, there’s nothing wrong with you.” Her lips are in a thin line, and her brows are scrunched. She’s starting to get annoyed.

“There has to be something wrong with me! This can’t be who I am. Please, mommy!”

With sharp moves, Wanda drives the car to the side of the road and stops it. “Shut up, right now! You’re being so grateful right now. You had a good childhood, you got food and water whenever you wanted, you had a roof over your head and all the toys you wanted to play with. There are people with worse lives, who have actual problems. So either keep your goddamn mouth shut, or walk the rest of the way, do you hear me?” She doesn’t start driving against until Y/N nods.

The rest of the car drive goes in silence. Y/N looks out the window all the way to the campsite, fighting her tears while Wanda hums along the song on the radio.

Opening the door as quietly as she can, Y/N steps inside the house, slowly putting her shoes to the mat. She closes the door and starts sneaking towards the living room. She stops on her tracks when she notices the television is on. “Well, are you going to come in or not?” Wanda’s heavy voice comes from the living room. Not bothering to be quiet anymore, Y/N walks to the living room, where Wanda is sitting on the couch, watching the mute television. “Where the hell have you been?” She turns to look at her daughter, but all Y/N does is shrug. “Do you know what the time is?”

She glances at the clock, “three.”

“Three in the night.” She’s staring Y/N right into her eyes, and Y/N stares back. Her eyes are red, but it’s not from crying. She hasn’t cried in a long time.

“Fun.”

Wanda stands up, coming right in front of Y/N, so she has to look up at her. “What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t the girl I know.”

“I’m not five anymore.”

“For fucks sake, Y/N, I know that, but you sure aren’t acting like a fifteen-year-old.” Y/N rolls her eyes and goes to walk away, but Wanda grabs her arm. “Don’t you roll your eyes at me. I am your mother and you’re supposed to respect me!”

“You don’t deserve my respect. You’re not a good person.” Her teeth are bared like an angry dog’s.

“And you think you are?” Wanda scoffs. “You’re my blood, so you’re just as bad. You’re horrible.”

Y/N is packing her things to two different boxes. One says to donation and the other to dorm. She’s nineteen years old and ready for college, ready to move away from her mother’s house. Most of the things in her room are already back, though she has to wait until tomorrow to actually leave. She’s taking the train to her university, not wanting to be in the same car with Wanda for six hours.

“Is packing coming along nicely?” Wanda appears to the doorway, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe. “I could help you out if you need me?”

“Uhh, I think I’ve got it.” She rubs the back of her neck, looking around her room. “There’s not much left.”

“Okay.”

They stand there in silence. Neither of them know how to talk to the other. Wanda never bothered to learn and Y/N gave up on trying. Besides, she couldn’t talk about the things she wanted to without crying, and she really doesn’t want to cry in front of her mom.

“Did you find any things to donate?”

“Some.”

Silence again. It’s making Y/N shake from the need to lay it all out for her. She wants to scream and throw things, but she just bites her lip. There’s no use. No matter what she says, her mother won’t lis-

“What do I have to do?” Y/N suddenly breaks the silence.

“Hm?” Wanda looks at her with a confused expression.

“What do I need to do to make you love me.” The silence is deafening. They’re staring at each other, but Wanda isn’t saying anything. She never does. “Tell me what to do!” Her voice gets louder, but Wanda doesn’t react. It makes Y/N angrier. All the times she was sobbing while her mother punished her with silent treatment coming to her mind. She hates silence. She can’t sleep in a quiet room anymore. “Tell me how to change myself to make you love me!” The tears start falling, and all Wanda does is stare. “Because it hurts, mom, it hurts so bad.” She’s getting desperate. She wants to hurt her, not physically, but the way she has hurt her. All she wants is for Wanda to feel the way she has always felt growing up. But instead of saying something hurtful, all she says is, “I’m sorry for being a bad daughter.”

Wanda walks out of the room, and Y/N wipes away her tears before continuing her packing.

After a few hours, Y/N is sitting on her bed, reading a book. A smell is coming from the kitchen, which tells her dinner is almost ready. She doesn’t want to go downstairs, at least not until Wanda somehow expresses she isn’t angry anymore.

Her whole body tenses when she hears steps coming upstairs. She’s holding her breath when Wanda walks into the room and sits behind her on the bed.

Y/N puts her book down, but doesn’t say anything. All Wanda does is set her head to a correct position and start making a french braid. There’s a piece stuck in Y/N’s throat as she sits there, it makes her whole body hurt, but she fights back the second set of tears threatening to fall.

Wanda’s fingers work in a fast and skillful pace, having done this multiple times. Y/N’s hair is longer now, and there’s a lot more of it, but still it gets done quickly. She puts the ponytail in place, kisses Y/N’s cheek and walks right out of the room.

Y/N takes the braid to her hand and holds it against her cheek. She starts crying silently. It doesn’t feel the same as it did when she was five years old.

Breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth, Y/N holds her phone in hand. There’s a small cupcake in front of her with candles that say 22 on them. She hasn’t eaten it yet.

Her hands are shaking and black spots are starting to appear in her vision. Whatever is wrong with her, is starting to get worse again. She thought she had gotten better after moving on her own, but it all came rushing back after the initial relief. It was manageable for a long time, but these past few months, she has started to feel like she’s drowning.

She’s afraid she’ll do something bad if she doesn’t get help.

Which is why she has been gathering courage to call her mom and tell her she want to come back home, that she needs to come back home. How she feels like she won’t survive if she’s all alone. She needs her mom.

“I need help, I want to come home.” She mumbles quietly to herself as practice before pressing the contact on her phone and bringing it to her ear. She waits for three rings before Wanda answers. “Hi, mom.” Her voice is quieter than usual.

“Hi, honey. Happy birthday!”

She’s tired.

“Thanks, mom.” She huffs out a laugh.

She’s just tired.

“How’s it going over there?”

“Hm, it-“

“Oh, you can’t believe what the weather has been like over here.”

Y/N freezes. She grips the phone tighter. “What has it been like?”

“Crazy. It was raining so much yesterday, and today there’s some kind of wind monster outside.” Her mother laughs. “What’s the weather been like over there?”

“Sunny.”

“Oh, isn’t that great! I wish we’d get sun more over here, I’m getting fired of…”

And Wanda continues talking. And Y/N continues listening. The phone call lasted for thirty minutes. All they talked about was the weather.

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memory-of-deross · 10 months

Note

Hey Homesick, have you got a cake for Aging yet?

✦ Under the cut due to length!

It was abruptly, in the early hours of the day, when Homesick awoke startled in his cabin as the rhythmic rocking of the ship he had come to travel in had halted— the shifting of what little items he had packed for the trip scattered across the small room coming to their own pause. The man’s breath hitched as he remained clung onto the covers he’d draped himself with to stave off the chilly airs of the sea, having to turn onto his side just to gaze out with blurred eyes of vivid lights than were more lively than the moons own; they had all arrived at yet another island, called to rest, stretch their legs, or do as they would by the Swallow. Truthfully, he had always struck the novelist as a rather more strange companion throughout the days he was set to sail for the special occasion, perhaps it was just the nature of weariness of the tides rubbing off onto someone who was familiar with it as the only company at times, but even as he had made himself proper and with his briefcase in hand, finding himself glancing over at the Swallow’s fanatics of a bow to entertain the other travelers picked up along the way— there was just something about him that made his stomach twist.

Yet…

No. Homesick shook his head, the movement slightly sluggish from having just been woken up. He was too far gone from his home now to be left to brood about the things that were only possibility at best, he had managed to leave the island— the waters around it already rather testy as rumors from the haunted few— with the Swallow’s help only, and it was only with him that he would be able to return, and he needed to return, if not for himself, then for the two people who may as very well have folded the heart of his own with how much he felt their presence linger even now, the wind that brushed along his slightly shaking hands from the coldness of this particular morning almost akin to their own touch along it. A soft sigh came about from his musings. As much as any past trips were for the stories or tales that he wished to portray almost as much so as they were in actuality with ink at his hand, this one was being done for something that ink would never quite do justice on so much as the memories and lives themselves— it was for his Sunshine, after all, and though he could not nor would likely ever be able to offer her gold bore in his hands, he would offer her the world now through tales upon tales and everything it would have for her, something so vast that her hands would eventually grow to hold. They had now to be able to hold a slice of cake. Oh, his daughter was going to be ten.

And to say he was merely elated or overjoyed was an utter understatement. Over the years, Homesick had found himself at the mercy of storms on more than one occasion, it was only inevitable, but he’d remember it well every time the clouds had retreated into a darkness that poured onto the boat. None of them had ever grown to develop into such a severity that he’d been thrown onto the border between life and death, and though he never was much a man of faith, he’d folded his hands together nonetheless into a prayer and comfort spoken— and the watching the light that shed every time even if only partly… it was the thing that would keep him going, as with Aging’s own light, the sunlight of his own rainy days. His lips couldn’t help but quirk into a small at the amusement that could be sought from it all; surely, to others, he was only being dramatic and waxing sentiment with his words, and as silly as it would be, it was the only way he could suppose to express just how he felt, even in the pleasant disbelief of it all.

His free hand had already taken well to the golden key that hung around his neck as he shuffled through the walkways of the town, walking with much more prep in his steps than he’d have before, a keen eye on the windows of the buildings he’d pass by for any pastries on display as a sign. The Swallow had his own duties to fulfill elsewhere, so Homesick was left on his to scout out any possible bakeries within the island. The people he’d found along the way were more than understanding, kind, even, in entertaining his inquiries, and encouraged him to talk more. He always more than welcomed it himself when they did, it was his own self indulgence at the end of it all to reminisce, especially with the upcoming birthday of his daughter. The time hardly felt like it’d pass much to him, remembering when she was still so small in his arms, and here she was now— a young girl with nothing but a bright future ahead of her.

Homesick would only hope that he’d be around to see such a future play out, though. His cheeriness throughout the day had dwindled slightly more as with the hours of the day the more he’d come to the realization— there wasn’t anything or anyone on the island who offered the sort or was willing, especially not what he’d been specifically searching for. He’d have felt guilty if he’d shown his disappointment much for all the assistance and help from the residents coming up with little in the end, so he’d had grin and bear it, his tone much more deflated by that point though.

“Ah.. is.. is.. that so? I understand. Thank you so much for everything though, I hope you fare much better than I am.” The latter half bore no malice, it was only a lighthearted and truthful wish— he was grateful.

As the sun melted into the sea not too far into swirls of orange and red, the novelist had stumbled off towards a wooden bench, his body slumping against it with a sigh. He’d have to report his findings to The Swallow, wherever the man was to be found; it only made his head lower slightly, ashamed. He’d not want to be a further bother to anyone, but it was just that.. this had to be perfect for a blessing like Aging, he’d not return empty handed. Maybe it was a bit selfish, then, but what trouble would it be when it came to her? Homesick leaned back, fallen deep into thought. A memory stirred in those quiet moments— from the day he had departed and seen off by Awaiting.

Remember, her favorite is chocolate.

His face was held dearly by Awaiting, standing on docks that had seen better days and surrounded by clouds that wrapped the blue skies, her voice leaving a gentle reminder that he’d taken to heart with many of them from even before.

Got it.

He wouldn’t forget. How could he when it was the very thing driving him now? And, it would continue to do so, maybe for just a bit more longer but… he would come back just in time all the same. And if he could so much as bring a fraction of Aging’s smile to life, it would have all been worth it, and he’d do it again and again. The flowers of hope that blossomed did not disappear, only withering a bit, and all it took was a bit of that sunshine to let them thrive once more.

…

Later on, when he had to return to the ship, speaking to a curious Swallow.

“A cake for my daughter? Ah, I’m afraid.. not yet, I’ve no luck here nor anywhere, really, but..” The man paused, humming. “.. It will only be a matter of time, surely. What harm would keeping my hopes up do? I will have my home eventually, and my daughter, the birthday she deserves.

That’s quite enough for me.”

#✦ (the pen lifts yet again. ask answered)#🗝️ (sea bound folds of the heart. homesick)#( if some wording in this sounds ironic due to future events. it is intentional. 🫶 )#( fun fact! the ‘remember her favorite is chocolate’ convo is referenced from a friend/lupis doodles… ty for those still lupi 💕)

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saturnville · 7 months

Text

torture, major john egan

pairing: major john "bucky" egan + black!fem!oc (amelia egan)s

content: John is interrogated in Germany.

an: y'all...part 6 of mota....tore me up. spoilers ahead. let's talk about this part! comment, reblog, and send asks!

gif: @olympain

tags: to maintain your place on the taglist, you're expected to interact! @turn-thy-paige @neeville @ineedafictionalman @ihe4rtisa @lovebyceleste

“Married?”

Silence. The air was tense. How could it not be? An American soldier had been captured in the swamps of German territory, beaten like a mule, and whipped like a Roman traitor. Just outside of his line of vision, he saw the bodies of soldiers and civilians drug across the gravel lot. An American soldier had been captured in the swamps of German territory and questioned like a federal criminal by a German pilot who grinned like a cashmere cat; evil and conniving. Silence.

The German interrogator, Hausmann, chuckled dryly and hovered his pen over the sheet of paper under his arm.“From what I hear, I assume you are unmar—“

“I have a wife,” he answered gruffly after some time. A lovely wife, at that. Full of love and affection, mercy and kindness. He missed her dearly. He kept a photo of her in his breast pocket but was too fearful of the damage to look at it.

His throat felt thick like maple syrup running down the stump of a tree. His jaw shook as he inhaled the lit cigarette. He pushed the smoke out of his nose.

Hausmann hummed. “Yes, Amelia. Amelia Mae Egan, correct?”

John leaned forward. How the hell did he know that? He clenched his teeth. The tips of his ears reddened.

The interrogator nodded, his eyebrow-raising in amusement at the pilot’s demeanor shift. John saw the wheels turning in the man's head. In frustration, he ashed the cigarette and dropped his hand against the desk with a thud. The blonde interrogator met John's blue eyes.

“Sorry, Major, I had to ask for documentation. She’s a beautiful woman. I didn’t think these kinds of…couplings were common in America. They aren’t here.” Gasket blown.

“I’m sorry, I’m a little confused,” John hissed. His voice raised an octave which caused the interrogator to jump slightly.``You asked if I was married, and I said yes. I don’t see the point you’re trying to make here, but I’m sure it isn't a part of your freakin’ protocol. Keep my wife out of it.”

Hausmann raised his hands in defense and laughed lightly. John failed to find the joke. His patience wore thin. “Easy, Major Egan. I meant no harm. But um, I have to say, you are making this harder than it needs to be. I simply would like to talk to you, so, I’ll ask you again…”

The words went over his head. His mind spiraled out of control. He had never seen this man in his life yet he knew of his personal life? He knew of Amelia. His precious Rose. He knew of his relationship with Buck, and he was holding it in front of him like a treat for an animal. Is that how he was viewed? As a rabid animal who went killing people like it was a sport?

No, that wasn’t the case at all. He was nothing but a soldier trying to defend his country. If there was another way to solve the issue, who would he be to decline the proposition? And this…this was the punishment for it? His dignity, his life, and his purpose were all questioned by a man who was no better than he was. It was torture.

John’s tongue scraped the roof of his mouth as he lifted his eyes from the papers littered across the desk. Planes crashed. Soldiers lost. His wife at home, clueless about what had gone on. She was unaware if he was alive or dead. Hell, he had no clue where his fate lay either. Would there even be an opportunity to hear her voice again? He could only pray.

He blinked away the tears that pooled in his eyes. Once again, he stated, “John Egan. Major…” Torture indeed.

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ssahotchnerr · 1 year

Note

hey, i just broke my wrist today so i was wondering if you could possibly write some fluff about aaron taking care of reader with a broken wrist.

btw i love your writing!! 💓💓

fractures

omg oh no i hope you recover quickly!!!!! & you're so so sweet thank you <33 cw; bau!reader, reader gets hurt, descriptions of injury, established relationship, cute banter, aaron being concerned and a dork <3

it wasn't uncommon for you to do paperwork in aaron's office. you would never deprive yourself of being in his company - that was the first obvious reason you opted to work in there - but the occasional change of scenery was nice. it was much easier to tackle files, especially when caseloads were demanding and high in quantity, alongside aaron; making small talk, getting his seasoned input, a kiss or two if you were lucky. the setting also prevented the inevitable distraction of derek's humored remarks, usually leading into a conversation that was far from productive.

aaron sat behind his desk, while you were seated opposite of him. in the instances the two of you stayed behind after hours, your chair would join his, or you would simply end up on his lap. it wasn't very convenient with the limited space; it was uncomfortable yet comfortable at the same time. but just having aaron close, being able to hear his soft breaths and sighs as he worked, the warmth radiating off his body, sneaking more than just two kisses. it gave you a feeling you couldn't quite put into words.

it was crazy to think, that when you stepped into this office for the first time, ages ago, that you would end up here. with your boss of all people, who you loved more than anything.

a man you used to think had no emotion, but were granted the gift of being the only person he chose to reveal that side to.

however, and sadly, this wasn't after hours, so your current position was across him, scribbling away. as you finished writing a statement your pen quirked, slipping out of your fingers onto the floor. and while leaning over to the side to retrieve it, you and the chair completely tipped over.

your hands fanned out to break your fall, but unfortunately you reacted a bit too late- you still landed onto your right hand. hard.

intense pain shot right up your arm, the impact hot and immediately throbbing at your wrist, causing you to let out a small yelp, both from pain and the surprise.

"shit." aaron was on his feet just as fast as you fell, a few papers toppling off his desk in effect. "honey, are you alright?"

you didn't answer as you peered up at him, the expression on your face saying it all.

like him, you were stubborn. when injured, you would downplay it- insist you were fine, it wasn't as bad as it looked, all the usual excuses. but aaron knew you, so he knew the pain in your eyes.

he crouched besides you, reaching out for your hand hesitantly, raising his eyebrows in a silent question, may i?

you nodded your head in confirmation, and aaron picked up your hand at your wrist. his touch was gentle, but it still resulted in an immediate wince from yourself. the burn caused also tears to fill your eyes.

"can you move it?" aaron asked, his brown eyes lifting to meet your gaze.

"i think so?" you lied, not even bothering to try, your hand remaining limp in his. the swelling had already begun, your skin flamed with a vague blue faintly mixing in.

"shit." aaron swore again, a breath exiting his nose as your wrist changed colors right in front of his eyes. "well, it's best we get this looked at. and quickly. c'mon."

after helping you to your feet, holding onto your wrist firmly, but softly, aaron escorted you out into the bullpen.

"don't move it."

you began to quip back, "i'm not moving it-"

his tone was insistent, light. "yes you are."

"no, i'm not."

the exchange was on the playful side, but still weighed with concern. to aaron', you could get a paper cut and he'd be just as worried.

a few concerned heads poked up from their desks as the two of you passed, aaron pausing momentarily at the bullpen's kitchenette, still supporting your wrist. he stopped in front of the refrigerator, which luckily contained an ice pack in the freezer.

"keep this on, okay?" aaron quickly grabbed a paper towel, wrapping it around the frigid pack, slowly placing it against your wrist.

you winced again at the contact, but nodded as your hand laid overtop of his, taking over. the chill with the contrast of your hot skin was uncomfortable at first, but soothed the ache just a bit. the throbbing didn't falter, though.

at the ER, an x-ray confirmed a minor fracture, and soon enough, your wrist was bound and secured in a cast. the doctor mentioned physical therapy to restore motion and to regain strength, but that was a matter for the future.

"so i guess this means no hand to hand combat for me for a while, huh?" you stated once the two of you were in aaron's car.

"you got that right." aaron chuckled softly, reaching over you to buckle your seatbelt for you himself. "for the next five to six weeks," he pressed a kiss to your temple, "you're desk-ridden sweetheart."

"and can spencer do my paperwork?" you joked, but your right hand was your dominant one.

he started the car. "we'll see."

"morgan?"

"oh, definitely."

you laughed, "then one thing needs to be in order."

his arm rested on your seat briefly as he peered behind, backing out of the parking space. the sight caused butterflies to erupt in your stomach, he truly was too attractive for his own good. "and what's that?"

"you'll sign my cast, won't you?" you teased, your lips tugging into a smile.

aaron snorted a laugh. "sure. how about, aaron with some hearts?"

his suggestion was all play, teasing you right back. but in all honestly, if that's what you wanted, he'd do just that.

you rolled your eyes, his laugh making you forget any pain your hand still withheld. "just humor me, hotchner."

aaron grabbed onto your left hand, bringing it to his lips and placing a kiss on the back of your hand. "always."

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x you #criminal minds imagine

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rageagainstmymachine · 28 days

Text

Sick Obsession - (Ultimis Richtofen / F! Reader)

Summary: He was going to be yours, one way or another. // You are obsessed with Ultimis Richtofen, and will go to great lengths to get closer to him. You steal, you lie, you stalk. He's yours, he just doesn't know it yet

Words: 8,084

Warnings/tags: NSFW- Smut, blood drinking. // stalking, theft, underwear theft

It started out innocently enough. A single pen. — it was only a damn pen. You don’t know it spiraled to this moment, where you and your sins were bared to… him.

Richtofen tinkered, as he normally did in his off time. That man couldn’t sit still for the life of him, there was always ‘work to be done’ wiring new electronics, testing teleporters, shaving down the guns to make them more… well you weren’t sure what it did exactly, you could never get a straight answer out of him. In any case, he was working while the five of you stayed in this safe house. The other three preferred when he was this way and not bothering them.

“Fraulein, do you know what the difference between a zombie und a scientist is?” He smiled, speaking in a quizzical tone. That grin was unnerving.

“What’s the difference?” You asked, humouring him. You did this frequently, perhaps that’s why he liked you more than the others.

“Well if you don’t know, then I need to be wary around you with ein weapon.” He laughed maniacally, snorting as he composed himself. “Ah, I am so funny!”

That’s when you saw it. He twirled his pen through his fingers then brought it to his mouth, biting the end. He nibbled on it while he once again became deep in thought, and it gave you that weird feeling in your stomach.

You’ve always liked older men, and he was no exception. He was handsome, with a witty personality and an accent that made your knees weak, of course you had a crush on him. Yes, he was insane, with no moral compass to speak of, and was surely thinking of ways to manipulate you to further his goals, but everyone has their quirks. You almost wished he would manipulate you. At least then he’ll talk sweetly to you so you’ll be at his beck and call. You wanted him more than you’ve wanted anyone. And he was going to be yours, one way or another.

You could see his teeth gently scraping the pen.

Stop thinking this way. You’re staring.

You gripped the edge of your chair, white knuckling the wood.

…maybe it was more than just a simple crush.

You averted your gaze as he took the pen out his mouth and began writing on the blueprints he was currently reworking. He was a perfectionist with his work. It was not long before he stood up with a satisfied hum, rolling up the blueprint and walking away to fix something he deemed broken. But you stayed glued to your seat, eyes darting from his retreating figure to the pen he left on the table.

You hesitantly stood up, eyes still darting towards the door as you walked to the table. Your hands were shaky as you grabbed the pen, holding it tightly in your grasp. It was still warm from him holding it. Oh how desperate you were. To feel him, to hold him, to taste him…

What the hell are you thinking?

Before you could stop yourself, you quickly took the pen into your mouth, tongue swirling around the end where he bit. A soft moan left your throat, eyes fluttering shut as your tongue flicked across the plastic. Maybe it was your imagination, but you could swear you could taste him.

Once you got all the satisfaction you could get out of it, you pulled it out of your mouth, your chest feeling like it’s going to burst from both ecstasy and yearning. You sighed, placing it back onto the table. You were going to let go of it, you truly were… but you couldn’t bear to part with it - it was his. You lifted it back up and slipped it into your pocket, making a hasty retreat out of the room before anyone could catch your misdeed.

“Eugh. Wo zum Teufel habe ich-?” You heard Edward grumble from his makeshift office. His voice was deep, and the gravel it had in it made a shiver run up your spine. His voice hardly ever lacked that higher pitched flair, this was rare.

You peeked your head through the doorway to watch him. He lifted bits of metal and pieces of paper off his desk, obviously looking for something. You had an inkling of what he might have been looking for. He turned, sensing your presence.

“Fraulein, have you seen mein pen? I seem to have misplaced it.” He groaned, now looking at the ground. He moved his chair and looked around his desk, but you knew he was never going to find it.

A pang of excitement jolted though you, it had just enough fear in it to make your heart race.

“Sorry, I haven’t seen it, Richtofen. Did you take it with you when you walked off with those blueprints earlier?” You asked, feigning innocence.

Edward looked off to the side, thinking.

“I don’t believe so, I could have sworn I left it here… eugh, whatever. There’s better stiff things to fiddle with.” He winked, brushing past you.

You bit your lip, imagining his innuendo. He was such a sexual man, it was so difficult to keep your composure sometimes.

“Let me know if you see it, it’s mein favourite.” He added,

You snapped out of your little day dream to look at him. “See your…?” You breathed, heart skipping a beat.

“Mein pen, fraulein. I swear you Americans are so air headed… I had only hoped it was just a Demphsey trait.”

You couldn’t help but sulk, groaning internally at your foolishness. But, a part of your heart soared, knowing you possessed his favourite pen.

You really were helpless.

But his innuendo only fueled your fire, and is why you found yourself holding your breath, as quiet as a mouse in the dark hallway. The men had all retired to their rooms long ago, something you knew you also should have done, but you truly couldn’t help yourself. You held the wall for support as you bent down, looking through the keyhole of Edward’s room.

It was dark in the room, but still a bit brighter than the hallway you were in - a lone candle burned on his nightstand, throwing shadows onto the wall, but that paled in comparison to what you were currently staring at.

Edward sat in a chair, faced away from the door — the universe must hate you. Was he naked? No- he still had his undershirt on, but his pants and boxers were tossed aside on the floor, his lower half bare to the air and simply torturing you without a good look.

It wasn’t hard to figure out what he was doing, the repetitive movement of his hand was a dead give away, and the rolling of his head to the side only made your face more flushed. Your ears strained for anything, and after a silent moment, you heard it.

“Nhhhhg… gott.” He moaned softly, panting as he worked himself over. His hips lifted from the chair in an erratic thrust. You could see up to his mid thigh, but from this angle you couldn’t see anything good.

“Please, please turn.” You whisper in a prayer.

Your breathing was labored, as was his. His hand was moving faster, toes curling in his socks that he for some reason didn’t take off — somehow he looked more scandalous that way. His head was tipped back and his expression looked blissful. He was close, so close. You squeezed your thighs together, teeth almost biting clean through your bottom lip.

Just a little bit more Edward, you’re almost there.

Your head snapped to your left, eyes going wide as a noise echoed down the hall. Footsteps… getting closer and closer. You hastily push away from the door — you couldn’t possibly get caught peeping like this, you’d rather die! With shaky legs, you stumble back against the opposite wall, reaching out to the nearest door and pulling it open, stuffing yourself in the cramped broom closet.

“Fuck” you mumble to yourself, dropping to your knees to look through the keyhole into the hallway. You paranoidly darted your eye from one side of your field of view to the other, waiting for the figure to appear.

It didn’t take long, shuffled footsteps stepped into view, and you breathed a sigh of relief when you realized it was just Nikolai. He clutched a bottle of vodka in his right hand, and mumbled to himself while he stumbled down the hall. He was drunk again, but really, when was he not? It was to your advantage though, in his drunken splendor, his spatial awareness was shortened, and he didn’t see nor hear you. Thank god.

You waited until you could no longer hear the inebriated Russian before timidly making your way back into the hallway, checking to make sure the coast was clear, and quietly walking back to Richtofen’s door. You take a deep breath and look back through the keyhole.

To your utmost annoyance, he was finished, and you missed the finale. A few wads of tissues sat crumpled on the nightstand, you could only imagine what was in it. Your stomach sank, a weird anger bubbling to the surface.

Damn it, Nikolai! You ruined my entire night.

You watched him reach over to the tissues and throw them in the trash next to him. Edward seemed to take a minute to catch his breath before standing up and… oh lord. You sucked in a shaky breath as you got a good look at his ass. Fuck, he was tight, even at his age. This was a show you gladly drank in, watching as his muscles moved as he stepped forward.

Please, just turn around. Turn around.

“Ack, scheiße.” He cursed, looking down at himself. He sighed, bending down to grab his boxers. Fuck, he was going to be the death of you with this view. He moved his boxers to his crotch and used it as he did the tissues. He must have missed some while cleaning himself up. Richtofen tossed his boxers behind him, leaning over to the candle to blow it out. The springs groaned under his weight as he sat down on the mattress.

Fuck! He was now facing you, and there was no light for you to see him in all of his glory. You softly pressed your forehead into the wall next to the door, sighing. What luck you had. At least you had a few good shots of him to mentally use later, but the yearning, the unbearable longing... You needed more. You were not satisfied.

An idea popped into your head. It was risky… stupid? Definitely. But the reward would be worth it. You couldn’t help the grin you wore as you slinked back into the broom closet, ready to wait as long as you had to.

How long had you been in here? 30 minutes? An hour? Two? You really had no idea, but you were getting antsy, and it must’ve been long enough. You carefully walked back into the hallway and towards Edward’s door, once again looking through the keyhole. It was still pitch dark in there. You watched for a minute, looking for any sign he was awake, but you heard and saw nothing. You reached for the doorknob and turned it ever so slowly until it softly clicked, and you were able to push it open.

So he didn’t lock his door? Uncharacteristic, but good to know.

With bated breath, you pushed it open farther, heart beating rapidly as you hoped the hinges were well oiled. You took your time, ears straining just in case he was still awake, or if you woke him from his slumber. When the door was open enough to barely squeeze through, you did just that, crouching as you entered his room.

You tiptoed closer to him, your eyes straining to see in the dark. Eventually, you could make out a silhouette on the bed, and as you looked longer, the details started to become apparent.

He was laying on his back, eyes thankfully shut, and a sheet un-thankfully covering most of his body. As pretty of a sight that would have been, that’s not what you were after. But perhaps… you looked at him again, — what you were after could wait.

You were entranced by his face, how peaceful he looked as he slept. He still had the bags under his eyes, but they didn’t seem so prominent, and his eyebrows were relaxed, not knitted down or strung up like you were used to seeing. You could get used to seeing him like this, in fact there was nothing you wanted more. He looked so kissable, and your heart ached. Before you could talk yourself into doing something even more stupid than you were doing now, you squeezed your eyes shut, and got back to the task at hand, dropping lower to the ground to find your prize.

That’s his socks… pants… coat… shirt…

You mentally checked all the clothes you felt, taking a minute to bring his undershirt to your nose, inhaling deeply. It smelled like him. Your stomach did somersaults as his scent whelmed your mind. You loved it, but there was something better, and as you let his shirt fall back to the ground, you finally found what you were looking for. You stuffed the item in your pocket, and after one more glance at Edward, who was none the wiser of your presence, you made your escape, closing the door behind you, and made your way to your room, feeling so giddy you could almost feel lightning in your spine.

You crawled into bed, a manic smile on your face as your body shook with adrenaline. You laid there still for a moment, relishing this feeling… this was so wrong, so why the hell did it feel so right? When you couldn’t take it anymore, you shakily pulled out what you stuffed in your pocket and looked at it in the moonlight that shone through your window.

Your trembling hands gripped his boxers tightly. It wasn’t him, but it was good enough… for now. They were black and felt as if they were made from cotton, but that was a secondary observation, you were actually looking for something much more exciting as your fingers danced over the fabric.

Your eyes lit up, and the twitching smile grew bigger. You found it — a small damp area: an area you knew had residual cum. You couldn’t waste anymore time, you brought the damp fabric to your nose, inhaling almost violently.

“Oh there is a god.” You groaned out, inhaling once again. His musk was even more prominent here than his shirt.. You couldn’t describe it, but he smelled like a man in all the right ways. That, mixed with the scent of his cum which smelled almost like salty pancake batter, had your hand traveling down, a desperate throbbing in your core.

Your knuckles were white as you gripped his boxers, your nose still buried in them, your hand now touching yourself. You felt dizzy with lust, with such a deep burning desire for the eccentric German man. You thought back on him masturbating earlier, and let your imagination run wild, bringing yourself to the edge and tipping over it, burying your whole face into the fabric.

You weren’t normally that quick, that’s just the effect he had on you. He had many effects on you.

You sat at the table, rigid, stomach doing too many somersaults to eat the canned meat in front of you. It was the next morning, and you were only slightly freaking out.

You were going to sneak the boxers back last night, you swear. But you didn’t expect how tired you were after satisfying yourself as many times as you did last night, and fell asleep with his boxers held against your chest. You woke up in a panic, knowing it was far too late to try to return them. Hastily, you had stuffed both the pen and the boxers between your mattresses, hiding them in a panic.

Dempsey and Takeo talked over breakfast, while you waited for Edward to make his appearance — and you didn’t have to wait long.

Richtofen strolled into the room, his brows furrowed together, and a deep frown on his face. You didn’t miss how he pinched the crotch of his pants and adjusted them.

“I think I am losing mein goddamn mind.” Richtofen said aloud, his accent somehow thicker.

“You think?” Dempsey laughed. It was a bitter laugh, but humorous nonetheless. “Richtofen, you lost your mind a long ass time ago.”

“You are so funny Dempshey, did you go to clown school instead of pursuing ein proper education? Wait, don’t answer that. I already know.” Edward bit back, a smirk plastered on his lips. “Nein, I have lost two things in the last day, und I don’t lose things. A man like me never loses things.”

Your eyes quickly darted to him, your heart skipping a beat as he referenced not only the missing pen but the missing boxers. You were going to play it cool. You had to, not only for your secrecy, but for the sheer thrill of it.

“You never found your pen?” You asked, stabbing your fork into the canned meat.

“Nein, although I was so sure I left it on that desk.” He grumbled.

“Face it doc, you’re like, what, 60? It’s the Alzheimer’s setting in.” Dempsey cut in, this time audibly laughing at his own diss.

“I am not 60 you dimwitted Yank. Und I am in perfect health, thank you. I’m not sure you can say the same with the amount of grease you shovel down your gullet.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, but composed yourself quickly. “So, uh, what else did you lose?”

“Mein underwear!” He said bluntly. He wasn’t an abashed man.

Your heart beat hard against your ribcage, you hoped he couldn’t hear it. You gave an adequate surprise reaction, while Dempsey just looked disgusted.

“You wear underwear? Ha, I go commando, baby… and I guess you do too now, as disgusting as that is to think about…” Dempsey‘s cocky grin turned into a scrunched up nose, repulsed by the thought.

“Don’t you have a heart attack to experience, Dempshey?” He rolled his eyes.

You cleared your throat. “Haven’t seen those either, I’ll… make sure to keep an eye out.” You said, a smile twitching on your lips.

“I won’t. Hope they're lost forever.” Dempsey smiled and stood up, walking out of the room to have the last word. He really was Edward’s biggest hater.

“Screw you Dempshey.” He growled, but the marine was long gone. Edward sauntered over to where Tank once sat beside you and slid into the chair, dramatically putting his face in his hand. “I’m starting to think he took them. You know, if he wanted mein ball sweat, he could have just asked.”

He snickered to himself, and you couldn’t help your face heating up, memories of the sins you committed last night flooding your mind. The man you touched yourself to the thought and smell of was inches away from you, you could reach out and touch him, and your fingertips burned with desire. In fact, it would be so easy to lean over and kiss him…

“Mein pants have been pinching me every time I move. Not that it’s unpleasant… the pain is actually quite delicious.”

“How would he steal them anyway?” You ask, forcing a laugh to keep the tone light.

“I was exhausted last night, you know how much upkeep it takes to babysit the four of you?” He hummed, rubbing his eyes. “I probably slept heavier than unusual und didn’t hear him come in.”

Oh, how close you are, Edward.

“Richtofen, that’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous is a perfect man like me misplacing things!”

You averted your eyes, lost in thought for a minute, absorbing all the information you’ve received. Another risky idea popped into your mind, those ideas were always worth it.

“Do you need help with anything today? I don’t have anything planned.” You said, innocently.

You helped Richtofen all day with whatever work he did. You stripped wires, fetched tools, helped dissect zombie specimens, and said yes to all his requests. You did this for a few reasons.

Get Edward to want to use you more.

Make him do more than he normally did in a day

Get him absolutely exhausted.

The first one was easy: play the naive woman who is easily manipulated, and the second came naturally since he had help. The third was a little trickier, but you had some tricks up your sleeve.

“Oh, is it done? I couldn’t tell.” You’d say innocently about his work, which made him feel like it wasn’t up to his standards, and so he’d work on it some more.

“I was always told to do it right the first time, but if you think it’s okay….” You’d say when he tried to take a quick but messier shortcut. That was more effective than you expected.

“Well, I hope Dempsey doesn’t sabotage it…” You’d say if he wanted to leave a half finished project til in the morning.

He thought you were wrapped around his finger, but it truly was the opposite.

When the two of you finally retired for the night, it was extremely late, and you could see the exhaustion on his face. He tried to hide it, with his quips and sharp tongue, but his sarcasm and innuendos couldn’t hide the bags that got deeper under his eyes.

He bid you goodnight, and walked to his room while you went to yours, but you had no intention to sleep, not yet, even though you were just as tired. You just sat on your bed for a few minutes before creeping back out into the hallway, down the corridor, finding yourself at his door once more. You made sure you weren’t being watched before crouching down, looking through the keyhole.

You wanted to chuckle. Your plan worked, he was so tired he got straight into bed. Disappointing he didn’t put on another show, but this was good for your new half baked plan.

You tiptoed back to your room, and pulled your miscellaneous bag from under your bed. It was a collection of items you’ve collected from your travels, and found the thing you wanted — a Polaroid camera. You creeped back down the hallway, to his door, and carefully opened it, slipping inside.

There he was again, sleeping soundly in his bed. This time his clothes were neatly folded on the chair, and his thin sheet covered him from his stomach down. The sheet outlined certain things nicely, and it took everything in your power not to lift it.

You took your time admiring the parts of his body you could see. He didn’t have much muscle tone, but he looked fit for his age. Salt and pepper hair sprinkled his chest, and so did the occasional scar. He didn’t shave this morning, you could tell. A faint 5 o’clock shadow peeked out. God, he was gorgeous. He was everything.

Crouching down, you lightly blew on his face, gauging what type of reaction he would have. You made sure you braced yourself to quickly press yourself to the ground in case he woke up. He didn’t react at all, so you knew he was in deep enough sleep.

You stood up, bringing the camera to your face. With a quick prayer, you held your breath, taking the picture. The room was engulfed in light from the flash, but just as quickly as it happened, it was done. You crouched down quickly, backing up towards the door and out into the hallway.

In your room, you sat on your bed, giggling as you shook the picture. The image appeared slowly, but when it did, it was perfect. You bit down on his pen as you gazed at your new prize. A picture of him for you to keep, with him looking so peaceful and vulnerable, while his bedding left almost nothing to the imagination.

You almost felt satisfied.

Almost was never enough, was it?

It was the next day, and you stopped feeling satisfied. You wanted — no, needed more.

The picture was stowed under your mattress, along with the pen and boxers. You could have taken his clothing back to his room, stuff it somewhere for him to find, but you couldn’t bear to part with it. They were yours now.

And here you stood next to the man who you craved, helping him once again, another cadaver needed to be studied.

“-and this of course is… are you even listening to me? Everything I say is very valuable information, you know!” Edward snapped you back to reality, you had started daydreaming again.

“Sorry, Richtofen, I’m… actually not feeling well.” You lied, looking up at him with big eyes. He clicked his tongue a few times.

“What are your symptoms…or is it female troubles? If it’s the latter I know a delightful cure.” He said, picking up a scalpel. “You don’t need your uterus, ja?”

A smile twitched on your face. “I think I’ll keep it for now… and I'm going to lay down for a while.”

“Ja, fine, go. Just keep in mind I have a cure that’s a win-win for both of us!” He twirled the scalpel while he smirked.

You shuffled away, holding your stomach as you did so, but once you left his makeshift lab and made your way down the hallway, you straightened up, walking with a purpose. You were fine, just needed a little excuse to slip away for a while. You turned down the hallway and found yourself once again at his bedroom door. You quickly step inside, closing the door behind you.

You moaned softly as you collapsed on his bed, covering yourself with his sheet, entirely wrapping yourself in his scent. The bed was cold but you could almost imagine the warmth of his body heating it up.

This isn’t what you’re here for. Get moving or he’ll surely catch you.

You groaned at your inner thoughts and threw the sheet off of you, digging into your pockets to get your tools — tweezers and a small baggy. With them in hand, you scanned his pillow, sheets, and bed, looking for any hair you could find.

Black hair here, gray hair there…

Oh, this was a jackpot. You collected multiple strands, your heart racing with the knowledge that these were yours now… a part of him belonged to you. When you couldn’t find any more on his bedding, you pocketed your tools and newfound possession.

You carefully made your way out of his room, into the hallway, and-

“There you are! I’ve been looking for you.” Richtofen said, turning the corner of the hallway.

Your back straightened, stomach jumping to your throat. Did he see you leave his room??

“You weren’t in your room, didn’t you say you were going to lay down, hmmm???” He questioned. He approached you with his arms crossed, tapping his foot once he stopped as if he was scolding you.

“I- actually I was looking for you as well.” You said, voice shakier than you meant for it to be.

“Are you lying?” He asked, eyes narrowing. “…that was an excuse to stop assisting me, ja? I’m wounded! Many would jump at the opportunity to assist ein genius like me!” Edward pouted, turning his head away in offense.

“Edward,” you said, gaining his attention quickly. This is the first time you’ve called him that to his face. “I was looking for you because I need gauze, you know, for my… troubles.” You internally cringe, but it seemed to work.

He put his hands on his hips. “Mh, I suppose that makes sense. Follow me, I actually have mein first aid kit out right now.”

“Who’s the idiot that got hurt?”

“The person in question is actually quite brilliant und got hurt by means that is not his fault.”

“Where did you get hurt?”

“…I cut my finger with ein scalpel.” He said quietly. You smirked at him, which made him roll his eyes and look away. “I didn’t even feel it… if I’m going to get cut, I at least want to feel it! Where’s the fun otherwise??”

You flicked your now wide eyes towards him. “You didn’t feel it?” You ask.

“Nein, the scalpel was too sharp. Pity.”

“Interesting…” You said under your breath. A smile on your lips.

Richtofen led you back to his lab and handed you some gauze, but you could only think about the next plan you were cooking in your mind.

You might as well be a night owl at this point, or maybe more of a raccoon… you at least looked the part with the circles you were developing under your eyes from hardly sleeping. It was late once again, everyone was asleep, and you were just waiting for your time to strike.

Your knees felt weak as you paced around in the hallway. You knew this was crossing a line, and getting caught could have intense consequences. But, big risk, big reward. And at this point, with how consuming your obsession with this man has become, you don’t know if you could stop yourself.

Before you knew it, you were in his room, creeping over to him as has become your nightly routine. Edward’s chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. One hand laid on his stomach, while the other was tucked under his head. Peaceful.

His eyelashes are so long.

You twirled the scalpel you borrowed in your hand, thinking over what you were just about to do. This could very well wake him up, and then what? What will you do?

You shook your head, clearing your mind. Right now was not a time for panic. You needed to be calm with very steady hands. You took a deep breath, and gazed upon his sleeping body. You inched closer, and closer, and went through with it before you could change your mind.

You grazed the scalpel across his cheek, just barely grazed it, not too deep… and pulled the instrument back, looking intensely at the centimeter sized area you sliced. You waited, your impatience getting the better of you. Was it too shallow? Do you need to slice him again?

But before you could question yourself into a frenzy, a scarlet dot appeared, and then another, both growing in size. You shakily let a breath out. Good.

With a pipette you borrowed as well, you collected the blood that dotted the surface. It was a slow, steady flow, but it was a bountiful supply of his sweet gore.

But you had gotten too cocky, flew too close to the sun. You brought the pipette closer to his skin to collect more blood when your hand twitched, and you jabbed the tool into his face. He jerked away, his face scrunching up as he groggily rubbed the area.

Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck… fuck!

You repeated the curses in your head as you hastily pulled away and dropped to the floor. The bed creaked as he stretched awake.

“Mmmh?” He groaned. “Was zur…?”

You were trapped, there was no escape. The only thing you could do is…!

You rolled under the bed, holding your breath as you heard him sitting up. He swung his legs over the side, fumbling with his lighter to light the candle by his bed. The candle draped everything in a soft, warm glow. You didn’t even have to see him to know what was happening. He was looking down at blood stained fingers.

He spoke to himself in German, his voice lower than what you’re used to hearing out of him. You could hear his belt jostling as he unfolded his pants to put them on. He stood, walking to a cracked mirror that was on the wall.

You ever so slowly peeked out. He stared at himself in the mirror, fingers dancing over his cheek where you had cut him. He didn’t say anything, just stared. After a minute of dead silence, he muttered something else in German, walking back towards the bed. He haphazardly put his undershirt on and walked out of the room, you could only guess to get a bandage.

You stayed put for a few more seconds before quickly rolling out from under the bed and making a mad dash to the door, holding the pipette close to your heart. As you opened the door, you prayed he wasn’t in the hallway. Your prayer was answered, you stumble out into an empty corridor. You sprinted down the hallway, quickly opening your door and making your way into the sanctuary of your room.

“God, oh god.” You breathed, a laugh finding your words. God. That was incredible. Your heart raced as the adrenaline kept rushing through your veins. He almost caught you. He almost caught you. You should be mortified by the thought, but it only excited you!

You hurriedly dropped to your knees by your bed, lifting the mattress to retrieve all the goodies you had. You sat in the bed with the pen, boxers, and hair in your lap, the picture of Edward in one hand, and the pipette in the other. Your body buzzed with joy.

You had so much from him, so much of him. He really was all yours, he just didn’t know it yet.

You swirled the pipette around, watching the swishing of the blood. His blood. And you could only think of one thing to make this better. You tilted your head back, raising the pipette to just above your mouth. You stuck out your tongue, and squeezed a single drop onto it.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you savored the taste of it. The copper taste twinged the taste buds, sending sparks of desire down to your stomach. He was yours. A part of him was now inside you. You swallowed the metallic liquid, opening your eyes to gaze at the picture.

But, your luck had run out.

You looked up in alarm as your door was quickly pushed open. There he stood, firmly planted in the doorway, eyes narrow as he glared at you. You had no time to hide anything you held, you could only look back at him, eyes wide like a deer in the headlights with your sins bared to him.

You tried to choke out something, anything. But you stumbled over even the most basic words as he approached you.

“I- wait- no- Richtofen-“

“So it was you all along, you little thief.” He said, tone low and dangerous. He towered over you and you could only look up at him in distress. “Mein pen, mein underwear…und you got greedy enough to take mein blood, too.”

“Edward-“

“You know, at first I thought someone was fucking with me, maybe Dempshey or Nikolai… I would have never suspected you, playing all innocent.” He laughed a sinister laugh. “But this isn’t about fucking with me is it, fraulein? Nein, this is something else entirely.”

He plucked the picture out of your quivering hand and stared at it with an unreadable expression. “Mh, did you take this picture tonight? Before you cut me?” He said, also plucking the pipette from your grasp. “And don’t bother lying, my dear.”

“I… no.” You said quietly, looking down in embarrassment. He dropped the picture onto the bed, roughly grabbing your chin to make you maintain eye contact.

“When?” He simply asked.

“… last night.” You felt smaller than a mouse.

He laughed even more, and it only brought more fear to pit in your stomach. “Und how many nights have you visited me, hm?”

“Three.”

You wanted to die.

“Und I had no idea. You little minx. Perhaps you would’ve continued to get away with it if you didn’t leave your tools behind.” His hand disappeared in his pocket before reappearing in front of you, a scalpel held in his grasp. “Well, mein tools.”

Your eyes went wide as you palmed at your own pocket. When did you drop it? Oh goddamn it, it must have been when you rolled out from under his bed. “How–”

“Fraulein, I am a doctor, I can tell the difference between a scratch und a wound made from precise tools.” He looked through you, making you feel oh so small. “You even took some of mein hair. This isn’t just kleptomania… it’s something far worse… far… kinkier.”

Edward sat on the bed and pulled you to him, crushing you in his embrace. The scalpel and pipette were dropped, losing their importance to the situation at hand. With one hand he pinned both of your arms behind your back, and with the other he grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked, hard, until you were looking into his eyes.

“My little stalker.” He cooed. “Open your mouth.”

You did as you were told, opening your mouth, he gave you a look, one you could read as if he had said it, and hesitantly stuck out your tongue. He clicked his tongue a few times, seeing the blood that still stained your tongue.

“Here I thought you were some naive girl, an innocent thing… no innocent girl steals a man’s blood und drinks it so greedily.”

You let out a gasp as he pressed his lips against yours hard, his tongue probing inside as he tasted his own blood. He held you to him like a vice while he attacked your mouth.

“Edward,” you groaned needily when he parted from you.

“You’ve already taken more than you deserve, Mäuschen, there’s no use in begging.” He bit the lobe of your ear as he whispered in it. His grip tightened on both your arms and hair, you cried out as tears threatened to fall.

Just as quickly as he tightened his grip, he let you go, pushing you down and pinning you against the mattress.

“Tell me, fraulein,” he said roughly, pushing your legs apart to slot his hips against yours. “Did you take mein boxers to wear? To smell?”

Your face heated up, you didn’t want to answer this. But his intense gaze had the words tumbling out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. “To smell.”

“Never pegged you as a panty sniffer, fraulein, but you’ve surprised me a lot today.” Richtofen laughed, kissing and biting down your neck. “Did you touch yourself while smelling them?”

He bit your neck particularly hard, causing you to gasp out your answer.

“Yes!” You cried, arching your back, pressing yourself more to him. Edward groaned, his hips jutting forward on instinct. You could feel his length against your inner thigh, and it only burned the flame of your desire hotter

“Gott, you’re a succubus... A thieving, conniving little siren.” He moaned, pulling your shirt over your head. “You are obsessed with me… Shieße, I’ve never been more turned on.”

He was rough as he pawed off your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room so he could knead your breasts. His lips trailed down as he pinched your nipples, soon replacing one of his hands with his mouth. You arched your back even more as he swirled his tongue around the bud. The electricity of the pleasure shocked your senses, this was heaven, this was pure bliss.

“Edward, please.” You begged, reaching out to yank on his belt. This time he didn’t scold your teasing, he helped you take it off.

Clothes littered your bedroom floor as the two of you tore them off of each other. He left dark hickeys on your breasts, biting and sucking until you writhed in pain. You didn’t dare ask him to stop though, or slow down – you wanted every bit and more. Suddenly, he sat back on his heels, his hips still pressed against yours. You looked at him with lidded but curious eyes, heaving from his ministrations. He looked at his surroundings, and smiled deviously, reaching over and grabbing your polaroid camera from the nightstand, pulling it up to his eye.

“Say cheese, mein kleines Pirschgängerin.” You could see all of his teeth as he grinned.

You didn’t have time to cover yourself up. The room filled with a blinding light, capturing your vulnerable state: unclothed, unkempt, and under him. The room was enveloped in darkness again as the camera dispensed the photo, not that you could see it, you were still dazed and blinded by the light.

“You get what you give… und you still have a debt, fraulein.”

Edward brought the scalpel up, the blade catching the moonlight. A shiver ran down your spine, out of thrill or terror, you couldn’t quite place it. He inspected the instrument, then brought it to your face. You trembled under his hold, but his surgical hands were steadier than ever. He quickly dragged it across your cheek, the faintest burn trailing the path of the blade. Just when you thought you could take no more, Richtofen leaned in and sucked on the wound to extract your blood. He was demanding, you were almost sure you were going to have a hickey on your cheek after this.

“Did you ever think you’d make it this far, schatz? Pinned under me, about to take what I’ll give you?” He asked, voice low as he lined himself up with your entrance. His tip probed at your flesh.

“Of course I did, Edward.” You said, breathless, rolling your hips so he slipped inside. “You’ve been mine all this time.”

His eyes widened, not used to anyone matching his freak. His lips twitched with an uncommitted smile, breathing getting heavier and heavier from sheer excitement. He grabbed your throat hard, squeezing as he roughly thrusted fully inside, setting a brutal pace.

“Nein, mein Liebe, you’re mine. Und you’ll soon see that’s far, far worse.”

Richtofen squeezed your throat while the other hand grabbed your thigh, pushing your leg up for him to have a better angle. You felt fuzzy – your lips got tingly, your heart throbbed in your head. This lack of blood flow going to your head made every delicious snap of his hips that much better.

You were a moaning mess, grasping helplessly at any part of him you could reach as you basked in the fact he was deep inside you. With each moan you breathed, the harder he fucked you. It was a positive feedback loop, making you get louder and louder.

“Ja, just like that, fraulein. Let them hear you.” He groaned. He moved his hand from your throat to your cunt, finding your clit and rubbing fast circles with his thumb.

“Fuck, oh, Edward-“

“Louder.” He hissed, thumb pressing harder.

“Edward!” You cried loud.

He leaned over you, roughly kissing you as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. Your body was electrified with pleasure, it radiated up to the tips of your ears and down to your toes, causing them to curl in ecstasy. That coil in your core tightened more and more until you were clawing at his back as you reached your peak.

His thrusts and fingers coaxed your climax out, keeping the waves of pleasure rolling over you. You saw stars, you felt lightning, you were drowning in him. Richtofen mewled as you squeezed around him, his thrusts momentarily faltering as he too felt the pleasure. He drew out your satisfaction as long as he could, until you were writhing and whimpering under him, begging him to stop from overstimulation.

“Stop fighting it, fraulein. It's unbecoming of you. You wanted this, und I’ll tell you when it's over.” Edward laughed, continuing to rub circles against your aching clit. He stopped thrusting, opting to sheath himself fully inside you, pinning you with no escape from the torturous pleasure.

A cry rattled your chest as he finally stopped tormenting you. You took deep, shaking breaths as you trembled, it was hard to think straight, and you didn’t protest when he pulled out of you, maneuvering you in a new position. He dragged you to the floor, making you kneel in front of him as he sat on the side of the bed. Edward was still hard and throbbing, with a look in his eye that said he wasn’t done with you just yet.

“Open, Liebe.” He ordered, shoving his thumb past your lips to pry your mouth open. “Since you’re so keen on swallowing mein blood, I’m sure you won’t protest swallowing other bodily fluids.”

You nodded eagerly— it was true. You wanted everything.

He pulled you closer by hooking his thumb and dragging you by your jaw. He grabbed a fistful of your hair and thrusted himself into your waiting mouth. You choked on his cock as he mercilessly fucked your throat. His teeth were bared almost in a grin as he had his way with you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, sucking and licking as best as you could, which was certainly difficult at his pace. He was getting close, you could tell. His heavy breathing turned into moans and his calculated thrusts became uneven. His hand still threaded through your hair, but his other came to rest on your cheek, cradling it, rubbing gently with his thumb. After a particularly sharp thrust, Edward stilled, groaning in satisfaction as he spilled his cum on your tongue.

“Ja, that’s it… don’t you dare waste a drop.” He demanded, head tilted back as he rode out his orgasm.

You swallowed it hungrily, like you were a man starved. You sucked and licked, making sure to milk him dry. You deserved every bead of cum you could get, you decided. You caused it, and he was yours, every bit of him.

Edward whimpered from your continued ministrations, but didn’t pull away just yet, seemingly enjoying the torturous pleasure of overstimulation. It was only when he was completely soft did he pull you away with trembling arms.

“Gut. sehr gut.” He breathed, petting your hair. He pulled you up and into the bed with him, laying down as you both caught your breath. The two of you laid there in silence for many minutes until he began patting along the bed looking blindly for something. He pulled the polaroid you took of him up to his eyes and examined it with a clearer mind.

“You purposely made me exhausted so you could take this picture, didn’t you?” He asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Yes.” There was no point to lying, it’s not the most embarrassing thing you’ve admitted to today.

“You cheeky Mauschen. Und here I thought you were just so kind enough to assist me in mein work.” He said, with faux offense. “You really went about this the hard way, you know. If you wanted to fuck you could’ve just asked…”

“And miss the thrill of the chase?” You asked, turning to him with a twisted look in your eye. “There’s nothing better than doing something so wrong, and feeding an obsession so intense.”

Richtofen grinned from ear to ear, his eyes going wide. He looked as if he wanted to propose to you. “You are completely insane.”

“I am just… dedicated.”

Edward pulled you into a kiss, one that wasn’t so demanding as the last ones. It was almost… sweet. He pulled away from you, and brushed some hair out of the way.

“Gute Nacht, fraulein.” He said, sitting up to gather his clothes. You sat up as well, watching as he pulled his pants back on.

“You’re leaving?” You asked, disappointment obvious in your tone.

“I can’t give in too easily, didn’t you say something about… thrill of the chase?” He smirked. He threw the photo of himself on the bed, and grabbed the polaroid of you instead, tucking it away in his pants. “You’ve got to do more than this to capture me.”

You matched his grin, slowly laying back down to bask in the satisfaction of the sex and his words. “You’re mine, Edward Richtofen.” You warned. He didn’t respond to your words, just flashed you his smirk again.

You didn’t miss how he pocketed your panties before he left your room.

Cat and mouse. Who was who, you didn’t know. But you did, in fact, love the thrill of the chase.

This fic on Ao3

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I'd appreciate it if you left kudos!

#call of duty #cod zombies #edward richtofen #ultimis richtofen #fanfic #x reader #female reader #reader insert

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tropes-and-tales · 2 years

Text

Take Care of You

Day 6: C*ckwarming (Steven Grant and Marc Spector x F!Reader)

(For the 2022 Kinktober event offered by @the-purity-pen. The original post and calendar/list can be found here.)

CW: Dub-con (technically); light angst; smut (c*ckwarming; PiV, unprotected; shades of dominance). 18+ only.

Word Count: 3786

He can never tell what is real and what’s not. What’s a dream and what is reality.

He wakes up every morning feeling like he’s been hit by a bus. Days slip past him with no recollection; he feels like a stranger in his own life. Sometimes he feels as though he’s not in control of his body—he wakes up with bruises he can’t explain, cuts he can’t explain.

Once, he wakes up with a dislocated shoulder. That was a tough day, trying to convince the doctor in the A&E why he didn’t have a convincing reason as to why his shoulder was out of joint.

He can’t tell what is real and what is not…save for one thing.

You.

He had seen you around the museum—you worked with the coins and medals. He saw you at the café all the time. You had the same hollow-eyed, slightly desperate look of a fellow insomniac, and you’d even made eye contact a few times, nodded at him and offered a shy smile.

Steven never once spoke to you, that he could recall. Yet…months after noticing you, you stopped by the gift shop and spoke to him. Asked him if the two of you were still on for dinner the next night.

He had been absolutely flummoxed. He never asked you out, and he opened his mouth to tell you so, tell you that he had no memory of even speaking to you, let alone asking you out on a date.

It was like someone else answered for him in that moment.

“Absolutely,” his mouth said.

That was months ago. An awkward first date: him bumbling, you shy. You were both earnest, though, both lonely and sweet, and the second date was less awkward. The third even less so. He opened up over time about his sleep issues, about how he lost time and struggled to feel tethered to this reality. You opened up too—you had your own issues with insomnia, with sleep paralysis and sleep walking. You made him feel less alone, less like a freak.

And now here you were: grounding him better than any line of sand around his bed, better than any ankle restraint.

“I’ve lost days again,” he whispers in the dark of his room. He knows you hear him: you pause as you undress.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Steven shakes his head. He feels the salt of tears stinging his eyes. He hates whatever is wrong with him. Hates losing time, losing days. Losing his mind.

“What can I do to help you?”

He’s so tired. He’s exhausted to the very core of himself. It’s not just a body tiredness: it’s his soul, his spirit, that is fatigued too. He wants nothing more than to curl up and sleep for days, yet he’s lost days and hasn’t seen you. He also wants nothing more than to curl up with you, lose himself in you.

He tells you so. He tells you that he’s so tired, but he hasn’t seen you for days. You hum thoughtfully at that, and there’s a lot going on in that hum, but Steven doesn’t have the energy to explore it…and you don’t expound whatever you are thinking.

“Let me take care of you,” you finally say, and in the darkness of the room, he feels the mattress dip down as you crawl into bed. He feels your hands on him—gently taking the hem of his t-shirt and urging him to sit up so you can remove it. Then the same with his sleep pants—the way you tug at the drawstring at his waist, then tap his thigh for him to lift his hips.

“I don’t think I can—” he starts to protest weakly, but you shush him softly.

“Let me take care of you,” you repeat. Your warm hand is on him, grasping him lightly, and he’s already growing hard even from such a tame touch. “Will you let me do this for you, Steven?”

He gulps, nods. He feels a queasiness in his stomach—he hates to disappoint you in bed, hates to think he takes more than he gives, but he knows he doesn’t have the energy to do much other than lie there.

Still, you’ve never held it against him before, the other times he’s fell short to the task. The times he came too soon, or fell asleep while making out…or the times he’s stood you up, lost track of days…

“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers in the darkness, and you lean down to kiss him. It’s sweet, gentle. There’s no heat to it. It’s a sweet kiss, a grounding one.

“You can worry about that another day.” One hand is stroking him lightly, but the other reaches up and brushes the hair off of his forehead, and you kiss him there, just above his furrowed eyebrows. Then a second and a third until he relaxes and the furrows smooth out.

Steven takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, through his nose, as he was taught to help himself relax. He pushes as many of his worries aside for later, and it’s easier because his focus is on your hand, the light grip you have on him.

His lust notches up a degree at a time, and it’s still something of a foreign feeling. He had little experience before you, had always thought himself a romantic first and foremost…but he finds that he craves these moments with in you the darkness of his bedroom. He craves the intimacy of your body, the way you touch him, the way the two of you fit together so well.

“Is this okay?” you ask him, and he nods eagerly. Breathes out that yes, it is, and when you release him and straddle him, when he feels the slick heat of you…

“P-please, love,” he stutters, even though he knows he can’t offer you much, that you’ll have to do all the work…

It always bowls him over when he’s inside you. When he pushes into you, when you mount him, the way your molten heat envelopes him. You go slow now, take him bit by bit, and when he’s fully seated in you, he huffs out the breath he is holding.

“You feel amazing,” he whispers. You lean down, press another sweet kiss to his mouth, and tell him the same.

Steven expects you to start moving, but you don’t. You stay still aside from the gentle kisses you press to him: to his mouth, to his cheeks and forehead. To the spot under his ear and the sides of his neck. And then you nestle your head against his chest, right under his chin…and you just lie there.

You must feel his confusion. You whisper in the darkness, “does this feel okay?”

“Y-yeah.” It does feel okay. No, it feels great. Just…different. Without any motion, suddenly he feels more sensitive than ever. He swears he can feel his heartbeat—or maybe it’s yours, or maybe your heartbeats are in sync—where you are joined. He can feel your slick arousal coating him, pooling at the base of him, and every so often you twitch against his length, making him bite back a groan.

“Let’s stay like this, okay?”

“Y-yeah. Okay. Okay, yeah.”

“Think you can fall asleep like this?”

“Maybe.” He turns his head a little and buries his nose in the crown of your head, takes a deep breath of your hair. You use a lavender shampoo, a soft floral that soothes him. He can feel himself calming already, despite the situation: his heartbeat slows, like it’s synced with yours. His breathing syncs with yours too. You’ve grounded him, and Steven shifts his head enough to kiss your temple. He wraps his arms around you, strokes your bare back.

You’re better than any ankle restraint. Better than a line of sand around his bed. You ground him, weigh him down, and Steven relaxes. In his mind, he starts to slip off into sleep, but in reality…

He gives control over to another.

*****

Marc tries so hard to protect Steven.

He keeps up with the ruse of the gift shop job. He feeds his goldfish. He sends postcards from his “mother,” maintains that lie to cover the painful truth.

When Steven spends months pining over the same woman with dark circles under her eyes—Marc recognizes a fellow insomniac when he sees one—Marc handles that too.

He puts on his best attempt at Steven’s accent. He tries to act like Steven: stutters and stammers and trips over his own feet when he asks you out.

Asking you out isn’t protecting Steven, though. It’s something else entirely.

Marc wants Steven to be happy. To not just survive but to thrive.

Sometimes Steven gives up control and Marc has to play along. The first time you and Steven made love, for example: Steven fell asleep, Marc woke up beside you. The time you made a date to ride the London Eye: Steven with his fear of heights slipped off, Marc had to step in.

Marc does it because he wants Steven to be happy. Not because he has any feelings for you. You’re not especially his type, too milquetoast, too boring, and Marc watches from the shadows as you and Steven go through your boring courtship.

Until…

Until you start to grow on him too.

For Steven, it was love at first sight. For Marc, it was a slower thing.

You take good care of Steven, and Marc loves you for it. You are gracious in understanding his flakiness, even if you don’t understand what causes it. You are kind and gentle with him, patient with his fumbling, patient with his low self-esteem. You tease him gently; you encourage his interests. You learn to cook vegan meals for him. You spend entire evenings listening to his excited ravings about Egyptian mythology and gods and goddesses.

But there’s a sensual side to you too. A slightly darker side that tests boundaries (the night you talked Steven into using the ankle restraints on you, for example). It’s nothing extreme, but it’s a bit of shading that gives Marc a better understanding of you.

Like tonight, the feeling of you enveloping him. Steven is grounded by it; it relaxes him and calms his racing thoughts, calms his racing pulse. Marc feels the moment that Steven starts to cede control, and he takes it happily. Takes control a little greedily, because while it was a slower thing to fall for you, Marc is selfish with these rare moments he gets to be with you.

He thinks you’re asleep. You’re a heavy weight on him—the heavy weight of a lax body made soft with sleep. Your cunt feels heavenly, gripping him like a velvety fist, your arousal mingling with his own pre-cum and sliding out of you to pool on his groin.

Marc is selfishly glad that Steven was too tired to spur you on for more. He wants just a little for himself, just to spend some time inside you, to feel the soft flutters of you against him.

The thought makes a spear of guilt lance through him. Steven deserves this and more: he deserves you. You make him happy, and Steven is such an innocent walking through the world. Marc keeps him safe, but you make him happy.

“Thank you,” he whispers against your hair. He breathes out the words quiet so he won’t wake you. “Thank you for taking such good care of him.”

He realizes too late that he’s blundered. Your sleep is always thin, fragile. You stir against him, your breath tickling against the side of his neck.

“Take care of who?” you mumble.

“Me,” he whispers back, slipping into his best approximation of Steven’s accent. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“’Course.” You turn your head, kiss his throat. It’s sweetness like this, your gentle kisses that Marc would have scoffed at even a year ago. That saccharine bullshit that Steven laps up, that Marc is too good for…usually. Usually.

Usually he’s too good for it, but Marc Spector is lonely. He carries the burden of Steven, carries the burden of all those memories. He carries the burden of the reality of their lives. He carries the mantel of Khonshu’s justice. And usually he’s fine, he’s strong.

But sometimes he’s lonely.

So sometimes he slips on Steven’s accent like a too-tight coat. .

He pretends he’s Steven because you love Steven. Marc wants to feel that, even for a moment, even if he can’t quite admit it to himself.

“Still can’t sleep then?” you ask, your voice a husky whisper in the darkness.

“No.”

“Did this make it better or worse?” Marc can hear the smile in your words, the playful lilt.

“Kinda hard to fall asleep like this, innit?” he replies in Steven’s accent.

“Hmmm.” You kiss his throat again, your petal-soft lips ghosting over his pulse point. “Seems that I miscalculated.”

“I’m not complaining.”

“Pretty rude of me,” you continue, not acknowledging him. Another kiss to his throat, then you shift your head and kiss him below his ear where he—and Steven—are both ticklish. He squirms under you, and he feels the huff of your silent laughter.

“Rude of me to not let you sleep,” you add. You whisper in his ear, let your breath ghost over him, and he breaks out into goosebumps. “Should I…”

You trail off, leave the question unfinished. The meaning is clear, though. You raise yourself a fraction off of him, and he reaches out quick, his mercenary skills giving him that lightning-fast reflex as he grabs you around the waist. He resettles you against him—bites back a groan at the bit of friction as you slide back onto him.

“Don’t you dare,” he growls.

“Don’t you dare,” you echo back, mimicking him. “Did you know you sometimes talk with an American accent when you’re riled up?”

Marc ignores the icy shard of fear that lances through him. He’s always so close to get caught, especially in these moments. It’s easy to pretend to be Steven for the boring shit—the gift shop job, picking up take-away from the vegan place—but it’s so hard not to be fully and completely Marc right now.

So he embraces it. Doesn’t bother to pull on Steven’s accent when he growls in your ear again. “Why am I bothering to talk then?”

His hands still on your waist, he rolls over with you, steadies you and rolls you with him. It’s a move that Steven would never even consider, not understanding that he even has the strength for it, but in a split second Marc has you on your back. He is still buried in you; he’s arched over you, and when you gasp at the sudden motion—when you gasp out the wrong name, squeal out Steven!—he dips his head and kisses you hard.

He’d never consider fucking you like this if he hadn’t watched all those times through Steven’s eyes: all the times you took a sweet moment and shaded it just a bit darker. The times you’ve used the ankle restraints. The time you convinced Steven to deal you a few light swats to your ass. The time you visited Steven when he was working in the gift shop, brushed a sweet kiss to his cheek and then slid your panties into his pocket on the sly.

You shade those sweet moments with the barest bit of darkness, and Marc wonders if you can take more.

He pushes his tongue into your mouth, insistent, and he smiles inwardly at how eagerly you press back against him, tasting him just as fiercely. He doesn’t move inside you. He just stays buried, still just letting you cockwarm him, but you twitch against him, and his resolve steadily weakens.

“You want this?” he whispers in the darkness. He can just make out your face: the whites of your eyes, the pouting lower lip as you take hitching breaths.

“Y-yes.”

He nips at the side of your neck, then bites you firmer, presses his teeth into your soft skin until you whine. Fuck, you whine so goddamned pretty. He’s never heard it before. You’re usually the one gently coaxing Steven out of his shell, such soft, quiet words and tones for him, but your whine has a thread of need in it. There’s a pitch to it that sounds needy and wrecked.

“You think you can handle it?” He shifts his head, bites the other side of your neck. Gives you a matching mark to the other, then soothes it with the tip of his tongue.

“Yes. Please.”

You whine so prettily. You beg so prettily. Marc obliges.

He reaches down and hooks a hand under your knee, hauls your leg up until it is over his shoulder. He repeats the motion, pushes your other leg over his other shoulder until you’re practically folded underneath him, the toes of your feet pressing against the wall behind the headboard.

He never knew you were this flexible. You’re completely vulnerable. Completely exposed. He can look down and see where he disappears into your heavenly cunt, and his hips stutter forward. He presses himself deeper, buries himself as deep as he can, and you cry out at the feeling of him.

“Too much?” he asks darkly. “Can’t take it?”

“I can,” you breathe out. There’s a ragged edge to your breath, harsh. “Please don’t stop.”

“Beg me for it.”

“Please. P-please!”

Marc lowers his head, presses a soft kiss to your pouting mouth. “Such a needy little thing,” he murmurs against your lips. “This how you saw the night going, teasing me with that sweet pussy and not expecting me to use it?”

“I…I w-wasn’t trying to tease you,” you whisper back. Your eyes are wide in the dark, and Marc realizes he’s overplayed his hand just a bit. Just a little. He has to channel Steven at least a little bit.

“I know,” he replies, and he kisses you again, even softer this time. “You take good care of…me.” He almost slips up, says him again.

“I try,” you agree, nodding. “I love you, Steven. I just want to take care of you.”

Marc tacitly ignore the I love you, ignores the painful twist in his chest when he hears it. You don’t know he’s not Steven, and he doesn’t have the heart to break the situation to you right now.

He doesn’t have the heart to end these moments either. These stolen moments where he takes over for Steven and gets to be with you too.

“Let me take care of you,” he replies, and he kisses you again before he starts to fuck you in earnest. He planned on being rougher, faster, but he slows the moment down. Keeps his thrusts slow and deep, draws almost all the way out of your tight heat before he pushes back into you. Pushes and pushes until he is flush against you, until every blessed inch of him is buried in you. He’s so deep that he can barely feel where the two of you are joined, where he disappears and you begin.

Like the two of you are one.

Schmaltzy shit like that…that’s Steven’s thinking. That walks a dangerous line to romantic bullshit.

In this position, you can’t move much. You reach out with your hands, grip his biceps as he pushes you closer and closer to your climax. He can always see it when you’re with Steven, a silent voyeur sharing a body with his alter, but these rare moments he can feel it too. He can see the way your face tenses up, the way your breathing gets erratic. But he can feel you, and it’s so much better: the dull bite of your fingernails in his arm as you grip him, the way your skin heats up. The way your cunt tightens, flutters along his length, coats him in your own slick cum.

“Come for me,” he orders. “Let me feel you coming all over this cock.”

You do—his words set you over the edge, and you shudder beneath him. You cry out, and he feels the way you grip him so hard, making it difficult for him to keep the slow, deep thrusts going. So he sinks into you as far as he can, stills. Feels every twitch and spasm of your orgasm.

He had the idea of drawing it out, of being more dominant. Giving you what he thinks you want, all the ways you play around with submission with Steven. He had the idea to make you come over and over, pulling them out of you, ordering you to come again and again until you are exhausted. He doesn’t realize that deep down, he—Marc Spector, not Steven Grant—is trying to take care of you, in his own way.

You are an insomniac, after all. He sees all the ways you take care of Steven. Even if he can’t admit it or even really see it, Marc wants to take care of you. Wants to exhaust you, body and mind. Wants you to curl up against him and get good sleep, restful sleep.

His plan falls apart. Still inside you, feeling your orgasm along every inch of him, it takes him right to the edge. He manages a few more thrusts then feels the tight coil of his own tension snap. He comes inside you, deep, and something about the sensation pulls a second, weaker orgasm from you.

-----

Even if he doesn’t exhaust you with some dominance display, you still fall asleep. Marc has no idea if it’s restful or how long it will last, but after the two of you clean up (and after you sweetly put the ankle restraint back on him, as if that would solve anything), you nod right off against him.

Not before you mumble another I love you to him.

Marc is still in control. He’s still running the show. He rubs your back, presses a kiss to your forehead. He waits until your breathing evens out and deepens.

He waits until you’re asleep before he says it back to you. “I love you too,” he whispers, so low that he won’t wake you from your thin sleep. He can’t admit it any other time, can barely even admit it to himself most times, but right now—sated from the sex, sad to know that you thought it was Steven the whole time—he can admit it.

#tropes-and-tales #tppkinktober2022 #marc spector #marc spector imagine #marc spector x reader #steven grant #steven grant imagine #steven grant x reader #moon knight

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