#but as she faces some of the trauma she can come back to that person

[lilacxquartz]

Those Late Summer Nights I Chapter 10

Satoru Gojo × Fem!Reader × Suguru Geto

This is a dark/yandere fic that features upsetting themes and it is canon divergent. Updated every Wednesday.

ABOUT: You moved to Tokyo over the summer to take a teaching job. As you get settled in, you find yourself entangled in a toxic dynamic.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You were starting to feel a little overwhelmed with how much attention you had to divide between so many people and then in the midst of it all, something went terribly wrong.

TRIGGER WARNING: Extremely dubious consent/sexual content/coercion/foreplay

Previous Chapter.

10. Just “Friends”

Back home at last, you chose to lay in bed until around four in the afternoon as you muddied your own mind with conflicting thoughts—trying to, hoping—to make sense of everything that had happened so far.

You weren’t quite looking forward to socialising with someone new, but you figured that if they were Shoko approved, then it was likely absolutely fine, so come the correct hour, you unstuck yourself from bed and entered a better state of mind.

Shoko introduced you to an equally nervous looking woman around her age standing right behind her. She was quite pretty, you thought as you looked at her; long dark hair and a scar over her face, kind eyes overlooking her features.

“This is Utahime,” Shoko said as she introduced you to her, “and Utahime, this is [name].”

You both awkwardly said that it’s nice to meet each other as you got settled on the sofa, Utahime brought out a couple of beers from a plastic bag as Shoko opted for a glass of wine instead.

“Any preference?” Utahime asked you, trying to be polite.

“Beer would be nice,” you accepted, not quite feeling the mood for heavier alcohol so soon.

She nodded accordingly in response as she cracked open two cans, seeming quite happy to share.

The conversation for the most part was carried initially by Shoko as you both carefully crossed the barrier in getting to know each other while you resisted the urge to spill too much of your trauma too soon, avoiding a repeat of the last time you spoke to new people.

When full comfort had been achieved, a mutual annoyance for Satoru emerged after a while of talking. Nothing too accusatory, but Utahime’s history with him seemed to paint him as a leading cause of her own stress while Shoko joked that he caused her smoking habit.

You didn’t really have a strong opinion on him just yet, but it was interesting to get to know him through the opinion of others. You wondered it with even Suguru before, thinking about the side he allowed you to get to know—thinking if Satoru was doing something similar to you.

Utahime and Shoko clinked their glasses and cans alike, announcing cheers for a peaceful evening and new company, because Shoko was right—you both did get along.

This newly formed comfort however was relatively short lived as soon as Satoru entered through the door, the celebration seeming to have been some type of summoning ritual for him instead.

“Hang on a sec,” Shoko said as she suddenly sat up, “how’d you get a key?”

She didn’t like that Satoru could just enter her apartment, choosing to come and go as he pleased. Her home was a sacred sanctuary for her own approved company and if he wanted to visit, he’d have to ask the same way as everyone else.

Utahime stared in mild disbelief, now wondering if she had managed to somehow hex herself as she stared bitterly off into her drink.

“Aww, don’t act that way~” Satoru purred as he continued to stroll inside, his hand arrogantly extending to reach out for someone to take hold of it, “we just need an extra person to get our usual table, otherwise they’ll just sit us at the smaller, worse table again.”

“Tough shit. I’m not abandoning Utahime to go be a table filler,” Shoko replied as she rolled her eyes, her hand playfully slapping his own away from her sight.

“I’m not going either,” Utahime replied.

“I-I can go otherwise?” you offered, presenting yourself as a sacrifice. You didn’t actually mind as it felt awkward enough already to third wheel between Shoko and her friend, since you could give them both a chance to catch up as you reconnected with the two people you already were familiar with.

“Don’t stoop to their level,” Shoko said, catching onto your wrist as you stood up, “let them suffer.”

“Ah, but she offered~” Satoru sang, tugging you away to the front door.

“I-It was nice to meet you, Utahime!” you called out as you quickly found yourself dragged outside into the stairwell, barely having time to grab onto your bag and shoes.

Suguru stood outside as he waited, his back leaning against the wall with a knee bent to balance himself.

Satoru walked down first as you followed, Suguru closing in from behind as he watched you go downstairs. In truth, this was his plan all along because he knew that Shoko would be occupied with Utahime and when Satoru showed up at his own place wanting to hang out, he knew that his friend was still burdened with clan responsibilities so he could still end his night with you—if he could help it.

He still felt some conflicting feelings about you getting closer to Satoru, which was exactly why he chose to hang out with him tonight in tow, wanting to keep tabs as to what you were up to at all times to make sure that nothing else blossomed beyond that kiss.

He did seem to understand though, that you didn’t think that the kiss itself was genuine so in his mind, what he was doing was closer to prevention; ensuring that Satoru didn’t try to talk you into doing anything else.

(While Suguru himself talked you into other things.)

You continued to walk in between the two of them to the bar, fully unaware at what festered away in the back of their minds. Suguru’s hand brushed on and off around your hips, guiding you a certain direction as you passed through thicker crowds. Satoru on the other hand occasionally would pull the two of you in as he walked and talked, sensing that you didn’t pull back as much anymore.

In reality, you were slightly buzzed from the maybe two cans of beer you had. They were tall cans and you didn’t quite care to push either of them away, leading them both to have the same type of curiosity invade their minds; could they go even further?

You settled off into the booth you got to know them both at on the night it had all began, sitting opposite with an empty spot beside you instead. Suguru ordered a bottle of sake for a change, pouring the three of you a glass each.

The topics of discussion were trivial for now, at least the ones that you could keep up with anyway. Things like your opinions on Utahime and the discussion of what Satoru was up to for the most part of the day occupied the conversation.

Then at some point during it all, Satoru got a phone call that he couldn’t avoid, zoning off into the distance as he talked himself through it.

“Just my luck,” Satoru sighed as he ended the call, “I’ll be seeing you both tomorrow.”

His tone sounded a little resigned but he tried to smile through the annoyance he harboured, refusing to sour the mood. He didn’t want to be constantly away, especially not during what was supposed to be his time off—but he wasn’t in a position to refuse his responsibilities either.

“Think they’ll bother you this much when work starts up again?” Suguru asked him.

“Probably not, no,” Satoru replied, “I’m probably being pestered so much because they know I have time to spare.”

“Must be difficult being so important,” Suguru teased him.

“You know me, the strongest and the most important,” he continued to joke even if his demeanour did continue to dampen.

When he left, the staff asked you both to downsize to a smaller table anyway to make room for the other customers as the establishment quickly filled out with more and more customers. Suguru didn’t really mind this development as he continued to top you up more, slowly drinking his own glass as you continued to finish off one glass after another, finding yourself a little bit too tipsy to think properly.

It was then that he moved just a little bit closer, playing the current situation into his hands with successful ease this time.

“You know, my place isn’t too far from here,” he spoke deliberately, allowing dangerous words playing off of his tongue in a tempting melody, “Shoko’s probably still busy with Utahime, probably best not to disturb ‘em,” he leaned a little forward as he spoke, “feel like relaxing at mine for a bit?”

You hesitated initially, wondering if by accepting that you were accepting something that you shouldn’t be. You didn’t want to lead him any more than you already had, either.

“I have my own room at Shoko’s you know, I can just wait it out there,” you replied, trying to establish a boundary right away.

“Yeah but, you wouldn’t want to impose right? Besides, I won’t do anything you don’t want me to, [name],” he continued to say, coaxing you into his reach, “it would be just for a little while, we’d both sober up and I’ll even walk you back.”

“I mean…” you continued on as you started to slightly panic, your gut instinct telling you to pull away.

“I do this all the time with Shoko and Satoru,” Suguru continued to lie, knowing fully well that he doesn’t really allow anyone into his home, “I just think you need to relax a bit, that’s all.”

“B-but, doesn’t it seem weird if I go back with you while I’m this drunk?” you asked.

“Why would it be weird?” he asked, his voice hushed, as if he didn’t want to be heard by others.

“B-because, like, I don’t know-“

Suguru interrupted you as you spoke, trying his best to remain patient while he had you all alone, “I’ll take care of you, don’t worry. We don’t do anything bad, we’ll just watch a movie or something to wait it out.”

“B-but-“

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked you, seeming a little colder.

“I-I mean, I guess I do…” you considered it again, foolishly trusting him to not do anything just because he said that he wouldn’t, the alcohol clouding your judgement.

“Just to unwind, yeah?” he repeated himself, luring you in. “It’s not like I’m asking you to spend the night, right?”

“R-Right.”

Still, some type of danger lurked. You were agreeable right now, drunk and easily swayed. Some type of looming threat filled his all too promising tone, seeming almost deceitful.

Your own gut instinct was telling you to reject him a second time, a third time if you really had to do so—but you didn’t do a single thing.

Instead, in the peak of your inebriated judgement you chose to trust him because he was your friend and because he promised you something so simple and yet so major.

He wouldn’t hurt you.

At least not like that.

(Would he?)

***

The walk back with Suguru felt strangely quiet but it was relatively a short journey just as he had promised you. He kept your body steady as he walked you back to his home, keeping you from tripping over your own feet.

To some extent, he wondered if he should actually be taking it this far with you given that you couldn’t even walk straight—but he wouldn’t be forceful, he’d only go as far as you’d let him.

His place was probably the most central out of all of the places you had been so far, not counting Satoru’s place as you hadn’t yet been there.

Suguru continued to carefully handle you as he sat you down on his bed, his movements feeling all a little too personal and calculated. His hand drifted back to your thighs to test the waters of your own lacking sobriety as his other hand swooped in to meet around your waist.

“So, [name], I’m sorry but I gotta ask you something,” he spoke up after a short moment of silence, doing his best to continue to keep his tone as kind as possible, not wanting to scare you in any way, shape or form.

“Huh?” you replied, suddenly catching onto the idea that he might have wanted something from you, only just now registering that his hands were on you, too.

You were still trying to keep as soberly passing as you could be, but the strange mood and the new environment felt disorienting, even if you had already been in here before.

“You haven’t been with anyone, right?” he asked you as his eyes locked onto yours, the question he asked you seemed important to him for some reason. “You’ve not slept with anyone?”

Usually, he didn’t even care about this sort of thing—but something about you being being one was making him go crazy, in an almost possessive kind of way.

It felt wrong for him to admit it, but he felt entitled to you—not just for a quick fuck either, but something permanent.

He wanted you.

“Yes, but don’t laugh-“

“—I’m not asking to make fun of you.”

“Then why?”

He sighed as he looked back at you, wondering if it was best to just let you fall asleep or to take you back to your apartment and forget that this conversation almost ever happened.

But something told him to hold onto you, wanting to see just how far it could all go.

“I have a dilemma with you, that’s all it is,” he admitted, scooting a little towards you so that he sat closer. It was difficult for him to get the right words out as he had to find a reasonable way to explain that he didn’t want others to get close to you, to make you understand exactly what type of madness was going rampant through his head.

It was difficult to form something coherent that didn’t sound like he wanted to use you, because that wasn’t his intention at all.

“A dilemma?” you asked, your words slurring against your tongue.

“Don’t get with anyone else,” he asked you, the hold he had on your thigh seeming to tighten as he talked, his other hand pulling you closer as he dared tempt something he might regret, “it makes me unwell just thinking about it, I don’t even know why.”

Your words initially got caught in your throat as you failed to produce a response—even currently drunk, you understood what he was trying to imply.

And yet, not a single word could come out.

“Don’t hate me for saying it, but,” he sighed again, not letting you move let alone get away, “I want for you to allow me to…”

“No,” you finally choked out, not letting him finish off his sentence that he barely got to begin with. You understood what he wanted to ask you and you weren’t ready, even when this drunk, you knew that much.

Suguru stared at you as he took that rejection somehow in continued stride, fully well having anticipated that exact answer. He never once expected you to directly accept his offer, knowing that it would be insane for you to do so.

Instead, his plan was to actually ease you into it; to build up a gradual acceptance on your side, to get you close to him before anyone else could.

Dating was too slow—he wanted to get to you sooner, before you could catch onto what’s going on, before you could simply just leave.

It was wrong for him to do so, he knew it, but his own desire was overwhelming his sense of reason and he had to do it, or else he’d actually do something he regretted.

So to him, this was a more diluted path.

“Look, I’m the only one who really gets you, right? I’m the only one who can look out for you properly,” he continued to say, “and I’m the only one who would stick around with you after, [name], because let me make one thing abundantly clear—this world is cruel.”

You continued to zone out as he spewed out words he thought you were genuinely considering when the reality was that you were trying to keep yourself from passing out in his company.

You knew exactly where he was going with this, you weren’t that unaware and oblivious, his intentions were apparent from the very moment he put his hands on you in the car but you weren’t still entirely sure how he went from ignoring your texts from days on end, to wanting to get in bed with you.

Something must have happened last night, otherwise why else did he know to ask you certain things?

“I’m just saying, [name],” he said as he pinched your chin, making you face him directly, “Satoru got a taste, but he didn’t appreciate you, did he?”

“I-I mean n-no, but-“

“—did he make you feel anything?”

“He never meant to.”

“But don’t you want to feel something, anyway?”

“I-I don’t know.”

“Because, I want you to feel things.”

He didn’t give you a whole lot to work with, nor any time to think for yourself as this conversation continued back and forth. His body continued to otherwise slowly towards you the same way, regardless of what you said, his lips seeking yours out as you moved back in retaliated discomfort.

Suguru continued to play the part of someone who appeared reasonable, nodding and pulling back to respect your decision. He was going to get to you either way, so your rejection didn’t hurt him because as long as he got with you before Satoru did, then he will have won.

He reconsidered his options as an almost unhinged expression manifested on his face, tightening his hold on your body as he surrendered to a flow of worrying ideas.

You internally panicked as this all unfolded, doing your best to perhaps foolishly hold onto his friendship while also pushing back on his advances, entering a point in your own psyche where you had no idea what you truly wanted either.

Certain words stuck, like Satoru stealing your first kiss and the fact that you felt nothing from it. Shoko got the title of your first real friend and Suguru sported the title of your first date, even if it was platonic. To circle back to Satoru, he had the honour of being the first guy you introduced to your parents; so no wonder it all seemed so confusing if he even liked you at all.

Your friends were out here taking away all of your firsts that were meant to be special moments shared with someone you could trust, instead being snatched away by this strange new group of people at every whim.

The lack of it all being genuine except for the friendship was starting to eat away at you, realising that such rapid progression was beginning to hurt you in a way you didn’t truly understand.

But… you were still left unsure.

Was he making such a big deal out of this because he actually cared—or did he simply want to play you, to get into your pants?

As you continued to hold off on his advances, he finally let you go of you to find your own way, intending to just vent to you instead. You’d listen to him whether you wanted to or not, so he took advantage of that opportunity as it happened.

“I’m just feeling some kind of way, [name],” he said, surrendering a chunk of his feelings.

He continued to stare at you, feeling a little guilty as he continued to do so—this damn feeling just wasn’t going away.

“I think I like you and I don’t want to share, that’s all.”

“I-I can kind of get it, I think,” you finally said after a while, giving him an opening of sorts if only by complete accident, “but,” you were to still quick to stifle, “I don’t want to do anything I might regret and that includes with you, too.”

He nodded as you spoke, completely understanding the exact sort of direction to take with you now much to your unassuming dismay; you were simply shy in his eyes, inexperienced and not quite used to this sort of thing and he could work with that—to make you his before anyone else could even have such a chance.

He wanted to stick around, to give into those strange and confusing feelings that have otherwise been eating him alive for the last couple of weeks.

“So, how about we start off slow?” Suguru suggested, moving into closing off the gap with you once again, “I don’t want you to regret a single thing with me.”

“I-I still don’t really know-“ you considered, not quite saying no directly. He wasn’t backing off even if he did drop the subject concerning your virginity, being pushy in a whole other sort of way.

“Don’t you like me too?” Sugur asked you, trying to find something that might not have been there.

“I-I do, but you know, as a frie-“

He cut you off again, not letting you finish that sentence, “Don’t say it. We’ve got something going on that’s better than just being friends.”

“W-we do?” you slurred a little.

“Can’t you feel it too?” he asked, leaning closer again.

“I mean, I don’t know, this is all too sudden for me and I don’t even know you that well,” you admitted, trying not to give into the pressure, you didn’t want to be something temporary or casual to someone you were trying to just be friends with.

“Then get to know me,” he whispered, “nobody else will appreciate you like I do.”

By then, you felt the booze hit your body a bit harder too now that it has had time to simmer; suddenly you couldn’t quite sit still, let alone agree or disagree.

He leaned into your lips without any protest on your end, despite your lacking consent to continue onwards; the smell of stale cigarettes exhaled into your mouth as he finally connected this kiss. His tongue pushing itself into your mouth, wrestling it with your own—your own muscle reluctantly following suit, despite not really knowing exactly what to do.

Your vision blurred as you barely kept up; you never did express consent nor give him the green light to continue, but every time you considered speaking up, your words would either slur or they never made it out of your mouth to begin with.

“Relax, you can keep your mouth still if it’s easier for you,” he said as he pulled back, his dark eyes intently focusing on you, “I’ll lead the way.”

Once again, he didn’t give you an opportunity to reply as he quickly resumed his pursuit of you; his mouth reconnecting with yours as his breath so hot and heavy rippled waves down your chin—his tongue flickering against the tip of your own as it fought back involuntarily, trying to move it away.

You felt as his hand then crept towards your own, grabbing onto the back of it as he slowly guided you into his trousers; straight past the waistband and slipping into an even deeper layer so that you could feel his, his—oh—were you feeling his—?

You froze as you now had a burning compulsion to pull away but your head pushed up against his face as his free hand held your skull in place—fingers weaving between interlocked strands of your hair, bringing you forward and tugging at your lips with his teeth, keeping you tethered to him.

Using the hand that held your own hostage, he moved you in so that your hand filled out with the length of his meat; your fingers wrapping around it as he then moved your hand up and down in a particular motion, encouraging you to keep up.

Maybe this was more than just taking it slow—but fuck, he was so turned on.

“Can you keep that going for me?” he asked, his voice sounding dangerously playful as he clearly was enjoying this moment.

You couldn’t vocally protest in the meantime nor shake or nod as he kept you subdued in a specific sort of state, so you kept it up either way because you were too overwhelmed to break away.

Not that he would allow for you to do so either way.

This was too good for him—he felt too good, so fucking good and he hadn’t even gone all the way yet. He wouldn’t yet. He knew now that he should savour this, to build it up.

He pulled further back from the kiss as your saliva trailed over your chin, webbing between his own—curious to see exactly how you were doing, realising that you might be struggling to keep up as someone with virtually zero experience with this sort of thing, while also wanting to get you used to this sort of state.

You continued to get into it and kept up to his requested pace along his shaft as he finally moved the hand that otherwise kept you glued to him to slip in between your legs, finally getting just a little further. He moved in smoothly, his hands brushing up the skirt and pushing past your underwear—his fingertips finally exploring the slick wetness you kept so well hidden.

To his amusement, he could see just how turned you actually were based on how soaked you were as well as the blush that formed on your face, even if your expression was a little unreadable.

In reality, you were equal parts confused and rosy red from the liquor settling in your system, keeping up but just barely.

You knew that this was wrong, that he never even asked you if this was okay to do, but you’ve also been so confused in this past couple of weeks.

You didn’t know what you were feeling.

“You’re doing so well, [name],” Suguru continued to purr into your ear, “wanna let me help you feel good too?”

“U-um,” you managed to reply, although still not using proper words.

“Trust me, I just want you to enjoy yourself,” he tried to reassure.

There it was; that confusing feeling again. You felt cornered as you considered accepting his quickly approaching advances, even given the position you were locked into. His hand rested near you, delicately parting you using his fingers—his touch was pleasant and warm and he wasn’t hurting you at all, but it still felt so terribly fucking wrong.

So, when he continued to once again move in despite not getting a verbal confirmation, he wrongfully read into your lacking say in the matter as a green light, thinking that because you weren’t screaming no or for him to stop despite your body language gesturing at something different was simply because you were shy.

Oh no, he didn’t even think to consider that you were simply too drunk to comprehend a single thing to begin with.

His fingers continued to slide into your heat, pushing over the opening and searching for something else in particular; your clit from what it felt like, focusing his efforts on there as his fingertips started to trace circles right around it.

Suguru enjoyed watching your reactions, his dark eyes finding light in your expressions and reactions—your own thighs quivering from his touch, trembling as you approached your limit.

He of course wanted to push you even further, wanting nothing more than to see you be needy and to moan his name; to beg him to let him fuck you, but he couldn’t be too greedy, at least not yet.

He’d slowly break you in, convinced that there was something about the chemistry that you both shared; feeling certain that there was absolutely something there, even if you couldn’t quite see it just yet.

So as he continued to gently swirl around your budded flesh and as your breathing quickly grew shallow; cheeks bruising cherry red, your insides coiling from his pressing touch—he too, got sent over the edge just from the sight of you alone.

At the same time though, that invading thought relented, daring him to go just a little further despite you not being ready; wanting nothing more than to taste your neck, to nip on your skin and petal behind lovebites, to push himself deep inside of you and feel just how soaked you were—but, but… he had to refrain, to hold himself back, at least for now, remembering that he didn’t want for you to regret him, so he finally pulled back from you.

His breath shuddered as you finished up on him, his face tightening as he clenched his jaw, eyelids fluttering as he started to finish, remembering to complete the same for you.

You squeezed your legs tight as you enveloped his hand, a rising need to finally seek out release; his circling motions finally coaxing out rolling pleasure as waves of warmth coursed through your body, a reaction that caused you to almost whimper breathlessly.

He pulled you closer as you finished, practically leaning into a hug against your body; his face rubbing against your own as he feverishly kissed you, his hand guiding yours as he finally got closer and closer to—but not yet, closer—to—

“Go a bit faster he breathed into your mouth, demanding release, “be a good girl for me—please, fuck.”

You listened to him as you accelerated the tempo against his dick; feeling a little more at ease from his continued flow of praise and encouragement until you felt his cock twitch, his breath hitch and finally empty himself at the mercy of your hand. Hot white ropes shooting without aim, causing a mess for you both.

He breathed in deep to recollect himself, still leaning against you before finally peeling himself away from you, allowing you to take back your hand and to find your ground again.

Guilt however then started to surface as he saw just how drunk you still were, leading him to finally seek out his own senses as he paused in his own tracks, leading you carefully to the bathroom before getting you cleaned up before returning back into bed with him.

There wasn’t a single chance in hell that you were going back home, even if he were to walk you all the way back and tucked you into bed himself.

He didn’t want a single person to be near you currently, not even Shoko and he trusted her.

So as you fell asleep beside him, your side occupying the usually vacant space against his chest, he felt a new sort of emotion plant itself and bloom, knowing that you were both in trouble if he continued to keep this up, just like that realisation many weeks ago.

Knowing fully well that he still wasn’t going to stop.

Not at all.

[fromthemouthofzabe]

Okay so for the first few episodes of Ahsoka I was like BLEGH what is this?? she's so serious and melancholy? Her lightsaber fights are so boring? Where are the acrobatics? Where are the dumb jokes and nicknames?? Where is my girl, you've ruined her??

BUT THEN THE FLASHBACKS

THE LIGHTSABER FIGHTS FELT LIKE THE CLONE WARS

SHE LOOKED AND ACTED LIKE AHSOKA

AND SHE CAME BACK AND SUDDENLY SHE WAS SMILEY?? AND SASSY?? AND JUST SEEMED SO MUCH LIGHTER??

Filoni you mad lad I had my doubts but you've done it again

[corfisers]

i really need to finish this one day

[goldsbitch]

can I request a Lando x reader where the reader’s weakness is when people stroke her hair? Her mind goes completely blank and she falls silent immediately when people stroke her hair and Lando uses it at his advantage.

Fluffy pls and ty🫶🏻

omg, i love this prompt so much - thank you and hope you like it!!

This is one is dripping with sweetness a little too much, don't say I did not warn you. No other warning.

Lando was born a tease, oscillating between clueless and shy, to unapologetic and bordeline dickish. It all depended on the setting, his relationship to the person and how much sleep he got the night before. Sometimes your boyfriend was the sweetest little thing, giggling shyly about everything instead of coming up with an actual response, and the other times he was a walking menace actively seeking every opportunity how to get you into a flustered state.

You and Lando were full on deep in the beginning of your relationship, the sweetest part of the honeymoon phase. To put it bluntly - fucking almost non stop. And the desire was never-ending. Blinding sunshine kissed good morning to every day you two got to wake up next to each other. Problems seem to be non existent. Bliss.

It was the way his hair curled when he got a little bit sweaty, his toned body what you were desperate to explore from every angle and the need to know every little secret trick that worked on him. It became some sort of a game, who would get better at knowing the other. Which one of you found all the buttons to push.

Lando rose up that morning and chose violence. Metaphorical one, of course. Snuggling up to you in order to wake you up as well for some morning work out, as he like to call it. Whispering sweet nothings to your ear and touching you all over your body. But you were just incredibly sore from the past few days, physically unable to keep up.

"Why don't you love me anymore," he pleaded jokingly as you murmured another weak appeal for your sleep.

"Lando, you know I love you more than anything," you replied, still half asleep. But it was hard to distinguish as reality resembled a sweet dream everyday lately.

"I remember when you used to want me, physically," he kept going.

"We literally had sex few hours ago, stop whining," you kissed him between your words. He looked at you with his incredible eyes, little devil dancing in each one of them.

"Exactly, too long ago. Wish I could go back in time when you were not sore and get inside you all over again."

You simply laughed, absolutely smitten with this lovey dovey side of him. His words made you melt like butter sitting under direct sun. You brushed your noses together and then he kissed you.

The best part of romantic relationships is the one that you cannot absolutely share with other people, the almost embarrassing pleas, desire and gross goofiness, simping at each other all the time.

"Fine, if you play by these rules, I'll come back with my own revenge," he said finally as you inevitably had to start getting ready to go to the paddock with him.

Today was the big day. You'd been spotted in public countless of times, the "girlfriend" title officially sitting on your head for weeks now. But this was the first time you were to join him in the paddock as a wag. You were trying to hide your nervousness, but he saw right through you. Before you exited the apartment, he made you stop and took your face in his hands. "I'm happy I get to do this with you. I love parading you around, for everyone to see that we're a team." You smiled, his words hitting like first snowflakes of the year. "Poor Oscar, I can't wait to finally trauma dump the shared misery you bring to our lives," you jokes and locked lips with him once again. "God, it's terrifying how much I like you," you said automatically, without having to think about it.

//

It actually wasn't as bad as you'd expected. It was definitely weird and strange, but not necessarily bad. Having Lando by your side as you passed the gates definitely helped. The photographers were lined up as people at a shooting range would and it did feel like that at first. But as quickly as you were initially overwhelmed, fatigue took over you and you blocked their ever-presence out. Trying to chat up those Lando introduce you to and memorizing the names. You knew how much some of these people meant to Lando, so you were trying to be at your best behavior. The thought that his friends would hate you in the same way as some of his fans haunted you.

In the middle of all the rush, you parted for a moment. To be honest, little peace of quiet and chill was something you appreciated. But remember, Lando woke up and chose violence this morning. And his plan was quite simple, yet bulletproof.

"Y/N! There you are, my love," you heard from coming from behind you. "I have someone to introduce to you! I'm very much sure you'll appreciate meeting him." As you turned, you saw Daniel Ricciardo walking your way with your Lando. You were a little perplexed as to why Lando was so cheerful about that. You clearly remembered him getting very upset when you admitted to him that at some point in the past, when formula 1 was a world far away from you, that you had a minor crush on Daniel. Which obviously went out of the window once you met Lando. That did not mean that Lando was 100% ok with it.

"Y/N, as I'm sure you know, this is Daniel, hell of a driver and good friend of mine," Lando continued and you knew him well enough to know he had ulterior motives. Not sure what to do, you smiles shyly and shook Daniel's hand.

"Hi, Daniel," you said, eyes flinching between him and Lando. You were full on preparing for anything. Lando's smirk almost had a life of his own at that point.

"Nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I've heard quite a lot things about you!" Daniel opened, life of the party as per usual.

You chuckled. "All good things, I hope!" And with that, Lando stepped behind you and put his arm around you.

"Only the best," he said, leaned closed and inconspicuously started to stroke you hair gently. Oh, he did not just go this low.

It was slow, yet like tidal wave. You stopped breathing for a moment. Your body relaxing, as if you'd just taken the world's best sedatives. The way his hands made you feel was etherial. It was the same sensation the luckier ones experienced when listening to ASMR and the less fortunate ones sometimes called an orgasm. Shivers slowly traveling around your whole body, every part becoming sensitive out of nowhere. You weren't able to look at Daniel, let alone continue speaking. Lando was more than aware of what touching your hair did to you. He'd discovered this trick quite early on. And it was his favorite one.

"So, where are you from?" Daniel attempted at small talk. But how could you possibly give a fuck at that moment. Not that your body would even allowed you to respond. The only thing you were able to take in from the outside world were the soft slow movements Lando's fingers were doing, blocking everything out instanteniously.

Daniel stared at you, waiting. From his perspective, this was a very awkward meeting.

Lando answered for you, with a smirk you did not see, but could feel from the tone of his voice. "You have to excuse her, she is bit shy in front of new people."

You could not give less of a fuck at that moment of what these two were saying. Your lips were starting to shiver from getting so sensitive. You took a short breath and someone who would be standing close and knew you well would know, that what escaped your mouth was not a nervous laugh, but something very close to a moan.

Lando and Daniel were saying words, but none of that was important, while Lando's fingers were working his magic. He would only leave your hair alone once he saw Daniel leaving.

You wanted to be mad at him. But you were still sort of high from all the sensation bomb Lando dropped on you. You slowly turned around to face him, coming down from your own personal nirvana.

You took a deep breath while he watched you without a blink and biting hims smile away.

"You promised," you let out air that got stuck in your lungs somewhere along the way. "You promised you would not do this in public." Your brain was slowly wiring up to normal again.

"I told you I'd punish you for the morning," he said as if it was the most amusing thing ever. "Also, if Daniel is my competition, I'm going to use all the advantage I have."

Lando had a way of looking at you that made you unravel instantaneously and there was no way of stopping it. There was just something about his smile that did it for you. As anyone who is properly in love, you could not imagine somebody being able tor resist that. In your love soaked mind, he was irresistible. To a normal mind, he was probably just a regular guy, but that idea was unfathomable to you.

"I'm pretty sure that after what I just pulled, you will not have to worry about Daniel liking me," you chuckled, having to accept that Lando won this one.

"I would never let my guard down...But yeah, I think this one is pretty safe," he chuckled once more. You kissed his overly proud face and promised to yourself to get back at him later, in the privacy of his bedroom.

[loriache]

Kabru, impossible mutual understanding & unknowable objects

Despite his concerted and constant efforts to understand other people, it’s established in a few extras that Kabru believes that true mutual understanding between certain different races is impossible. Specifically, between long-lived and short-lived races, and between humans and demi-humans. Partially, we can trace this conviction back to specific hang-ups caused by his life; the trauma of the Utaya disaster, prejudices he carries from his childhood, and his experience of racism among the elves. In this “little” essay, I’m gonna discuss how I think those experiences formed this belief, how it comes out in his actions, and how some of his actions seem to contradict it. The question of whether it’s possible to reach mutual understanding with other living beings despite our differences is one of the core themes of the manga, and I’ll also touch on how this aspect of Kabru’s character links to that.

Seeking understanding

Kabru is a character who devotes a huge amount of time and effort to understanding people, and he is very good at it. In his internal monologue, we can tell how advanced and complex his skills of analysis are. He is able to read a huge amount of information just from looking at people's faces and body language.

People are, to him, what monsters are to Laios. This is something that's been expanded on at length in other, excellent meta. It's the fact that they're foils; it's the fact that Kabru is also very easy to read as autistic, with a special interest which is the opposite and parallel of Laios'. It's something that came out of trauma and alienation, as Laios' special interest in monsters also began as a coping mechanism.

The complicated origin of this "love" for monsters and for people comes through, I think, in the fact that one of the places we see both characters use their fixation is in being very, very good at killing the thing that they love. This also ties into the idea that loving something isn't even remotely mutually exclusive with using it to sustain your own survival; using it for your own purposes; hurting it or killing it. Love can be, and often is, violent, possessive and consumptive. This understanding is part of what makes Kui's depiction of interpersonal relationships so compelling to me.

While Laios fixated on monsters and animals to seek a place of escape, in both his imagination and his self-image, from the humans who he couldn't understand and who couldn't understand him, Kabru seems to have fixated on understanding people in order to navigate the complex, socially marginal places that he has been forced into throughout his life. As an illegitimate child raised by a single mother with an appearance that marked him out as different to the point his father's family wanted to kill him, and a tallman child raised among elves who didn't treat him as fully human and wanted him to perform gratefulness for that treatment – treatment that, after he met Rin at age 9, he certainly always understood could be a lot worse – his ability to work out what people wanted from him, whether they were friendly or hostile or had ulterior motives, wasn’t just an interest. It will have been an essential skill.  

Milsiril, I think, was a flawed parent who tried to do her best by Kabru and did a lot of harm to him despite her best intentions. She may have treated him much better than an average elf would have, but like Otta and Marcille's mother, there are other elves with different outlooks on short-lived races. How would they judge her treatment of him? We don’t have any insight on what it could be, but to be honest, the person’s whose opinion of her I’d be most interested in knowing is Rin’s.

But even if she'd been perfect, living as an trans-racial adoptee in a deeply hierarchical nation with a queen who is a 'staunch traditionalist' who wouldn't even acknowledge the existence of a half-elf like Marcille (according to Cithis) is an experience that would deeply impact anyone.

Elves & Impossible mutual understanding

While Kabru was living with Milsiril - in other words, while living in the Northern Central Continent - he came to believe that "there was no way to achieve mutual understanding with the long-lived races."

This is evident in his political project: he wants short-lived races to have ownership over the dungeon's secrets. Despite his dislike of the Lord of the Island, he's a useful bulwark to stop the elves taking over. Despite his doubts about Laios, Laios needs to be the one to defeat the dungeon, because if he doesn't the elves will take over.

Kabru still carries a deep scar from Utaya, one that was exacerbated by the fact that he never got an answer to any of his questions about what happened or why. This, despite the fact that Milsiril knows about the demon and how it works. Do you think Kabru, with his social perceptiveness that borders on the superhuman, wasn't aware that she knew more than she would tell him?

Given that, the fact that he gets to a place where he "doesn't have any particularly negative feelings about [elves/long-lived species]" .... well, to put it bluntly, I believe that he thinks that's the case, but I kind of doubt it. After all, if he did have resentment, of Milsiril (someone who was his primary provider and caretaker since age six, and who despite her flaws, loves him and who I do think he loves) or of elves (who he has had to play nice with for most of his life, in order to survive, and will still have to play nice with in order to achieve his goals, since they hold all the power) what would that do except hurt him and make his life harder? Kabru is Mr. Pragmatic, so I don't think he'd let himself acknowledge any such feelings he did have. Exactly because he can't acknowledge them, they're well placed to get internalised as beliefs about the Fundamental Unchangeable Nature of the World.

However, these stated beliefs seem to contradict his actions. Despite his belief in the impossibility of forming a mutual understanding, he certainly seems to try to understand long-lived people, just as much as he does short-lived people. There's no noticeable difference between his treatment of Daya & Holm versus Mickbell & Rin that isn't clearly down to their relationship with him. His skills of human analysis were honed and developed while living amongst elves, and as soon as he's alone with Mithrun he immediately sets to understanding him - his interests, his motivations, his needs, and his past.

He treats him considerately and without bias, and despite the fact that Mithrun conquering the dungeon for the elves is both a reenactment of a core part of his childhood trauma and a political disaster for his aims, that doesn't seem to colour his perspective on Mithrun negatively at all.

This is something I find extremely laudable about Kabru, and it's another way he parallels Laios. He seems to understand that people, as a rule, (in Laios' case, he understands this about monsters - and eventually, all living beings) will act in their own interests, and if those interests conflict with yours, might harm you. But that's just their nature, and it's not something that should be held against them; you're also doing the same thing, after all. The crux of Laios' arc is precisely that he has to accept the responsibility of hurting someone else in order to achieve what he wants.

Kabru is deeply concerned with his own morals, what he should and shouldn't do, but mostly in the context of responsibility for the consequences - a responsibility he takes onto himself. He isn't scrupulous about what he needs to do in order to create the outcome he wants, but if he fails to create that outcome, then....

He blames himself to the point of thinking he should die. He doesn't blame Laios, or seem at all angry with him, despite concluding he should have killed him to prevent this outcome. That's because in his eyes, ultimately Laios was going to act according to his own nature, and it's Kabru's fault for not understanding that nature well enough. He's extremely confident in his ability to understand and predict others, (including elves and other long-lived people). Then, where does his conviction that mutual understanding is impossible come from?

Partially, it's the "mutual" part. I'm sure Kabru, who isn't able or willing to deny Otta's insinuation that Milsiril saw him more like a pet than a son, has felt that his full interiority, the depth of his feelings and his ability to grow, act, and think as a fully equal being, was something that the elves around him just couldn't grasp. Because that was their excuse for it, he came to understand this as a gulf between short-lived and long-lived beings, an inevitable difference in outlook caused by their different lifespans.

This experience might be part of what leads to his iconic “fake” behaviour. He trusts his ability to understand others, but if they aren’t able to understand him, then there isn’t any benefit to being honest about his feelings and thoughts. If his attempts to reach mutual understanding with his caretakers were never able to be fulfilled, then it isn’t any wonder that he reacts with such surprise and horror at blurting out his desire to be Laios’ friend.

In his experience, making yourself vulnerable in that way only leads to being hurt. Soothing him, hushing him, lying to him, talking to him like a child that isn’t able to use proper judgement – that’s an inadequate and deeply hurtful way to respond to genuine distress, the desire for autonomy, or disagreement. Ultimately, I think that’s why he comes out on the side of being grateful to Milsiril; because she did equip him with the skills and knowledge he’d need to reach his goal, and let him go.

Though he could understand them, they couldn't understand him. To the extent that was true - which I'm sure it was - it wasn't due to anything about lifespan. It was due to the elves’ racism, and the solipsitic mindset & prejudiced attitude that it caused them to approach him with.

Because, if it needs to be said, the idea that there is an unbreachable gap in understanding between the long-lived and short-lived species is not true. Marcille and Laios have a much greater difference in lifespan than any full elf from any short-lived person, and they’re able to understand each other – maybe not perfectly, but better than many other people who are closer in life-span to them.

That doesn’t mean that I think Kabru is wrong about this, however. Because there’s an interpretation of his statement that is reflected in his actions and is true. When he talks about his problem with elves, it’s not just their attitudes: it’s their power, and what they use it to do. They “explain nothing and take everything”. Though it’s presented in the guise of ‘guiding and protecting’, in fact it’s a simple case of a powerful nation using their military power, wealth, access to resources, and historically stolen land – including the island itself – to protect their own interests and advance their own agenda. That’s why they’d be able to show up, seize the dungeon, and forcibly take Kabru’s party and Laios’ party to the West. If Kabru wants to stop that from happening, or change that status quo, persuasion or a bid to be understood would be completely pointless. Between the political blocs formed by long-lived species and the interests of short-lived species, “mutual understanding”, given their current, unequal terms, would be impossible. This is something that we see reflected in Kabru’s actions; before he asks his questions about the dungeon, he grabs Mithrun as leverage. He never really attempts to persuade the canaries to see his point of view, because that would be pointless: they’re agents of the Northern Central Continent’s monarchy, and will act in its interests regardless of any individual relationship with him.  

I don’t think Kabru sees the different dimensions of this belief of his in quite such clear terms, however, as is evidenced by the other group who he thinks it’s impossible to communicate with.

Demi-Humans & Unknowable Objects

The other place that we see his conviction about the impossibility of mutual understanding is in the kobold extra.

I'm including the whole thing, because I think it's an excellent and clever piece of world-building. Aside from what it says about Kabru, which I'll expand on shortly, what this extra does is deconstruct and call into question the usual "fantasy ontological biology" present in these sort of DnD-like settings. Essentially, the kind of worldbuilding where a race (such as kobolds) can be described as war-like, and that's establishing something essential about their biological nature. That's common to the point that if Kui didn't include this, some people would probably come away thinking that's the case about, e.g., the orcs.

But here, despite what Kabru is saying, the information the reader actually gets is:

the conflict between short-lived humans and demi-humans such as kobolds is mostly over access to material resources that they need to survive.

These resources are scarce because powerful nations, such as the elves, have monopolised them.

Kabru, who has grown up in a place at the centre of these conflicts, ascribes essential, negative traits to a cultural group which was in direct conflict with his own. Communication with this other group is impossible; they aren't people, they're more like objects.

oh yes! just like this conflict between groups of tall-men, a conflict which the reader will immediately interpret as more clearly analogous to real-life racism. Our other protagonists also carry prejudices from growing up in a place where a marginalised group was in conflict with the dominant group over scarce resources. It's definitely impossible to communicate with these people, and you can only kill them.

Woah, when you say it like that, it sounds pretty bad!

But also, nobody walks away having had a realisation or unlearned their prejudices - because they don't have the tools they need to do that work. Yet. I do think, to an extent, it could happen - especially with Kabru, since it's suggested in the epilogue that Melini might become a safe-haven for demi-humans.

To focus in on Kabru, the key here is his statement that you should think of demi-humans as "unknowable objects". Even his extraordinary powers of understanding have seemingly hit a limit. Part of this is just inherited prejudice, and doesn't need to have a complicated psychological explanation, any more than the elves who were prejudiced against him need one.

But also... this is probably somewhat linked to the way demi-humans seem to be considered "pseudo-monsters". They're the place that the strict delineation between the human and the monstrous is permeated. Laios, who is not interested in humans, remembers and is excited by Kuro. Chilchuck and Laios argue over whether it's OK to eat a mermaid. Kabru's prepared to (pretend to) roll with the idea that Laios ate the orcs.

But these are people, aren't they? Of course, this is a social construction, as we see from the fact that in the Eastern Archipelago, the label of "human" is reserved for tallmen, but in most of the rest of the world it depends on some obviously arbirary classification based on number of bones; "demi-humans" aren't in any essential way monstrous, except to an extent in their appearance, and physical location - due to their marginal social status, they're pushed out to live in unsafe places such as dungeons.

Therefore, Kabru's view of demi-humans as fundamentally "other", unable to be understood - monstrous - could be read as akin to abjection, the psychoanalytical concept described by Julia Kristeva. In order to create a bounded, secure superego, that thing which permeates and calls into question the border between self and other, human and animal, life and death, is rejected and pushed to the margin.

“Not me. Not that. But not nothing, either. A "something" that I do not recognize as a thing.[...] On the edge of nonexistence and hallucination, of a reality that, if I acknowledge it, annihilates me. There, abject and abjection are my safeguards. The primers of my culture.” (Kristeva et al., 1984, p. 11) “It is thus not lack of cleanliness or health that causes abjection but what disturbs identity, system, order. ” (Kristeva et al., 1984, p. 13) “The pure will be that which conforms to an established taxonomy; the impure, that which unsettles it, establishes intermixture and disorder. [...] the impure will be those that do not confine themselves to one element but point to admixture and confusion.” (Kristeva et al., 1984, p. 107) (discussing food prohibitions in Leviticus)

This is both (due to its affinity with food-loathing and disgust) a very fruitful concept to apply to dunmeshi, and a psychoanalytical theory which I wouldn't exactly cosign as True Facts About Human Psychological Development. You may also know the abject from its utilisation in the classic essay "Horror and the Monstrous-Feminine" by Barbara Creed - that's a lot more approachable than Kristeva if anyone's interested.

Key here, though, is that through the symbol of the "demi-human" is embodied a step between "human" and "monster" - and that's a prospect that puts at risk the whole notion of an absolute separation between those two categories in the first place. To Laios, that's something wonderful, and to Kabru, it's terrifying. We can see this principle further embodied in the relationship both characters have with the notion of becoming monstrous.

To Laios, this is transcendent, and represents a renunciation of everything human - in fact, if it didn't, it wouldn't "count".

To Kabru, it's a deeply-held fear, established by his childhood alienation (due to his illegitimacy, his eyes, and perhaps also his neurodivergency), deepened by monster-related trauma and the sense of responsibility and survivors guilt he feels for what happened at Utaya. His identity as a human who is not monstrous is key to his sense of stability and safety; he doesn't want to touch monsters, he doesn't even want to see them.

To acknowledge a kinship, a possibility of similarity between the things he loves (humans) and the things he hates (monsters) would be more than touching them - it would be putting them inside him. We know, quite explicitly, that this notion is triggering to Kabru. He literally has what seems to be a flashback when he's about to eat the harpy omelette.

So he abjects it, classifying the demi-human as fundamentally unlike him - an unknowable object, or an object that he refuses to know. Because in understanding it, he would interject the things he hates and fears into his self, which is already, always under threat by that hated and feared object.

Of course, again, Kabru isn't very good at enacting this refusal in practice. For one, when he chooses between his desires and ingesting the feared object, eating monsters... he eats monsters. Part of this is treating himself badly, the "ends justify the means" mentality. His goal is to destroy all monsters, so if he needs to become monster-like to do that, he will. But part of it is also the other motivation that he didn't even seem to know about until he said it: he wants to become Laios' friend, and to learn from him how a person can like monsters. He wants, at least in some part of him, to reconcile the feared and hated object into something he can understand.

For another:

Kabru can speak the kobold language. In the first place, while this may have been common in Utaya, it also could have been something he chose to learn, an early expression of his interest in understanding and talking to all sorts of people. It isn't the kind of thing you learn if you believe that communication between yourself and the group that speak it is impossible, is it?

It's possible to harbour prejudices against a group while being kind to an individual, and given Kabru has those prejudices regardless of his reasons, that is what he is doing. But also, his treatment of Kuro doesn't reflect a sincerely held belief that he's an "unknowable object" at all. His approach is exactly the same as it is to any other person: an analysis of goal and motive, and an attempt to help if he's sympathetic and their goals align - going out of his way to give language and local knowledge lessons in secret. His conviction that Mickbell and Kuro will truly become friends when they can properly communicate is completely contradictory to any sense of demi-humans as fundamentally different, or impossible to reach mutual understanding with. To me, it seems like this self-protective shield against the corruptive force demi-humans as an idea present to his identity, this abjection, when Kabru is face-to-face with one, just simply can't hold up against his finely honed skill of intellectual empathy. Perhaps because he's autistic, it seems his "empathy" is less an emotional mirror response, and more a set of cognitive skills for analysis of others. That instinctual, emotional empathy might not trigger when presented with a member of an out-group, but if it’s possible for Kabru to turn his cognitive empathy off, we don’t see him do it.

This isn't to say that this prejudice doesn't affect his behaviour. For one, it could negatively impact his judgement of politics and policy, where individual people don't enter into it. For another, I'm not convinced he'd be willing to overlook Mickbell's exploitative relationship with Kuro if Kuro wasn't a kobold. As it is, since both of them are satisfied, he doesn't feel like he needs to intervene, regardless of the fact Mickbell isn't paying Kuro. But if Daya and Holm were in a relationship, and Holm took both Daya's and his own share from their ventures, but only compensated her in living expenses and kept the rest, do you think he'd tolerate it, for example? Even if she said it was OK?

Conclusion

The kelpie chapter establishes that "people can never know what monsters are really thinking." That isn't just true of monsters, though.

True mutual understanding is impossible - between anyone. We can never truly understand another person's heart. This is touched on in, for example, the existence of shapeshifters and dopplegangers. Even a monster that seemed like a perfect copy of a person wouldn’t be that person, and wouldn’t be a satisfactory replacement.

We’re intended, I think, to understand the winged lion's repeated suggestions to just replace people who have been lost with copies as something uncanny, which demonstrates the way that the winged lion never manages to attain a complete understanding of humans. A version of a person who was created to fulfil your memories of them, to be the person who you wanted them to be, would be a terrible, miserable thing.

Disagreeing, coming into conflict, and misunderstanding each other, are essential parts of what it means to be living beings, as fundamental as the need to eat.

The only thing to do is not to take more than you need to eat to survive, and not impose your own desires onto others. To do your best to sincerely communicate your desires, even if they're embarrassing or vulnerable or strange, like Kabru eventually does with Laios; like Laios does, bit by bit, with the people around him; like Marcille does, Chilchuck does, Senshi does... to hope they will accept you, and do your best to understand them in return.

We can re-examine, in that context, Kabru's line about the elves' tendency to "explain nothing and take everything".

They have the power to impose their preferred "menu" onto less powerful groups. And in that context, mutual understanding being impossible just means that they won't give up their power because they're asked nicely. Kabru's goal is to seize the truth that they won't give to him, and to create a situation where they can't take everything. Because he's accurately surmised that nothing about the treatment of short-lived races will change so long as the power imbalance remains. Despite the way he mistakenly ascribes part of that to "long-lived vs short-lived" or "human vs demi-human", the actual gulfs in understanding he identifies are structural, are about power and about access to material resources and safety.

I think he could come to recognise this. Yaad is teaching him political science after all, and while a prince's lessons on political science won't exactly get at much that's radical or invested in the interests and perspectives of the marginalised (Capital is a critique of for a reason after all...) I believe in Kabru's ability to learn critically and get more from a lesson than it was intended to teach.

[cosmerelists]

Pros and Cons of Stormlight Characters in the Middle Seat Next to You on a Budget Airline.

As requested by anon. :)

1. Kaladin

Cons: His legs are so long. His hair is so luxurious. His shoulders are so broad. This large, beautiful man is not trying to be in your space, but the budget airline seat cannot contain him. Pros: You started what you thought was an idle conversation, but by the end of your flight, he had diagnosed your chronic pain and become your therapist??

2. Shallan

Pros: Well, she's more of a regular-sized human and she's friendly but quiet. She seems to just want to sketch the whole flight, so no complaints! Cons: Why does she keep staring directly at a space across the plane and sketching the creepiest symbol-headed creatures you've ever seen with her eyes vaguely glazed over like she doesn't even know she's doing it holy shit is this a Twilight Zone situation where there are invisible gremlin monsters on this plane that only she can see and is it your imagination or do you hear humming from somewhere

3. Adolin

Cons: Listen, this is a budget airline, and this guy seems to think it's a fancy spa?? He's got the slippers, the posh eye mask, the luxurious travel pillow, some really nice face creams, and he seems to be video chatting with a girl even though the internet on the plane doesn't even work. Frankly, you're jealous and grouchy about it. Pros: Okay, he actually seems really sweet and he gave you some of his way-too-nice-for-an-airplane snacks. You take it all back; this guy is awesome.

4. Szeth

Pros: He is so still. So quiet. Almost folded in on himself. Barely...breathing? Honestly, you keep forgetting the middle seat is occupied, and how rare is that! Cons: You just...you think you'd feel better if he just blinked. Just once. Please.

5. Lift

Cons: You had to sigh just a little when a little kid plopped down next to you. Also, she goes to the bathroom every five minutes, and comes back with food every time. You think she might be robbing people. Pros: She complimented your butt quite sincerely. You've always been kinda self-conscious about your butt! But apparently yours is the "second best she's ever seen." Feels nice.

6. Jasnah

Pros: Like, is it possible for someone to just be really good at flying? She came in, expertly stowed her luggage, sat down elegantly, did her seatbelt, used a wipe to clean up the tray table and surrounding area, and immediately starting reading some thick tome. Do you have a crush on her? You might have a crush on her. Cons: She glanced at the book you're reading, and you know she judged you for it.

7. Wit

Cons: Does this guy EVER stop talking? Pros: Okay, actually, you found him kind of annoying at first, but that story he told you about the temple and the duck might have healed years of trauma? Did you just realize that you don't have to forgive your mom and that's okay?

8. Renarin

Pros: He sat down and you were like, "Okay. Cute nerd. I dig it." Cons: You just wish he wouldn't scrawl foreboding-seeming numerals on the back of the airline chair in front of him. Is it counting down to...just before the plane lands? What does it mean???

9. Amarem

Cons: He came in and was IMMEDIATELY like, "I am taller than you and so I should have your seat." And then he just...waited? Like he thought you'd just comply??? Pros: He seems intent on pretending that never happened. Fine by you. That guy seems like an asshole.

10. Zahel

Pros: He falls asleep, like, immediately and doesn't stir for the entire flight. Cons: He's just kinda stinky.

11. Dalinar

Cons: He sits down and, unprompted, says something like, "In my youth I would always battle to occupy every armrest but now, after reading The Way of Planes, I have realized that it is the journey, not the armrests, that matter, so you can have them" and then you're like, "Dude, the person in the middle seat gets the armrests that's just common courtesy" and then he looks at you and you look at him and it's vaguely awkward the whole flight and nobody uses the armrests. Pros: Actually, after a while you do take the armrest and the tension goes down a lot.

12. Taravangian

Pros: He just kinda seems like a nice old man, you know? Kinda confused about stuff, but harmless enough. Cons: He falls asleep partway through and droops his head onto your shoulder and drools a bit and you know you sound ridiculous but it feels somehow calculated. Intentional. Evil.

13. Sebarial

Cons: The very second beverage service starts he's all, "Bring me a BOTTLE of wine" and you're like, "Oh no. It's one of those dudes who gets way too drunk on planes!" Pros: You know? This guy actually seems pretty jolly and chill. You catch yourself thinking, "I wish I could pretend he was my uncle." You're not sure where that came from.

14. Rock

Pros: He scoffs at the provided airline snacks and gets out this thermos and gives you the best damn soup you've ever had in your life. Cons: He's just a large, warm man. Very large. Very warm. Not his fault, of course, but now YOU are very warm.

15. Elhokar

Cons: Every time there is plane turbulence, he mutters something about how it's the assassins coming to finish the job. Poor dude must be really scared of flying. Pros: You feel a warm, parental feeling growing in you as you look at this sad, scared man. Maybe your mom was right. Maybe you WOULD be good with kids.

16. Eshonai

Pros: This lady is, just, SO excited to be traveling that it can't help but make YOU excited to travel. Like, you always thought plane travel sucked, especially budget airline travel, be she is so delighted by everything that you find yourself thinking, "You know, it IS pretty amazing that we're soaring through the sky right now traveling to a new land." Cons: Cons? No cons. You wish you could ALWAYS see flying through this woman's eyes.

[reiderwriter]

Dirty Cops

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: With a dirty cop killing women in the BDSM community running loose you and Spencer have to devise an equally dirty plan to catch him in the act.

Warnings: Kintober Day 22 - S&M, BDSM themes, public sex, oral sex, exhibitionism, bathroom sex, interrupted sex (both of them are cockblocked by the job).

A/N: I'M BACK! Sorry for the delay. This is the fic that has been beating my ass for about two weeks now. I fear I put too much detail into the case, and now I'm 6k words deep into a part one of a fic that should've been a 3k standalone.... oops! I hope you enjoy~

You sat in your office hands on your forehead as you desperately searched for the solution to your problems. 12 women, 12 homicides that VICAP had just spotted were easily similar. All in the same jurisdiction, and yet no connections made by their police force.

Something was going on in Tampa, and you needed to get to the bottom of it before another person died. 

You supposed it didn't really help that some of the women had died in some pretty unorthodox ways. Strangulation, blunt force trauma, evidence of rope burns, and having been held hostage but not for long. Things your team was familiar with, but local detectives usually couldn't stomach.

As the BAU's brand new liaison officer, you got the job of convincing the local law enforcement to invite you in. They certainly weren't making it easy for you. 

"Listen, I'm telling you there's something here, sir, if you'd just check the case files. We're only trying to help."

"You're trying to stick your nose in my departments business because you think your fancy FBI agents can handle my cases better than me." 

"Sir, with all due respect -" 

"Fine, you think you can come find whoever whacked these street whores you come and do it." You took in a sharp breath and paused, trying to make sure if you were hearing him correctly. 

"What do you mean by whores, Captain? Choose your words very carefully." The warning was a bonus, knowing your voice had already done such a 180 he was probably regretting his previous word choices. As far as you knew none of the victims were wex workers. They mainly had office jobs or were even stay ah hone mom's.

"Each and every one of these women were jezebel's. Cheating, doing dirty things while showing their faces in church. They attended a certain establishment, not a Christian one, if you understand what I'm telling you, Miss." 

"It's Agent, actually, and if you ever leave these details out of a case file ever again, I'll make sure to have your badge pinned up on my wall like a hunting trophy. Are we clear, Captain?" He stuttered out a yes, but you cut him off quickly. 

"My team and I will arrive later today. Expect us for lunch." You said, slamming the receiver down and finally releasing a huff of breath you'd been saying for emergencies. 

A whistle from the door finally draws your attention after a few minutes. 

"Okay, Y/N," JJ clapped, looking impressed. "Who pissed you off?" 

"Just the Captain at the precinct who just very politely invited us to consult on our next case." You threw the file in her direction as she set down the coffee she'd bought you, picking it up to peruse it. "Where's Hotch? I need to tell him we've got to go now before they change their minds." 

"You know you want to say it," she teased as you began walking out of the office to find your elusive boss. 

"Ha. Sure. Wheels up in 30, Jennifer." She raised her coffee in a salute to you as you finally took off, getting ready to go to war against an unhelpful police precinct. 

–X– 

With all the time you don't have, you end up briefing the team on the jet. You have to stand and grab the edge of the table as you try not to pace up and down the aisle. 

"Twelve victims, all women between the ages of 20 to 28. He's crossing race lines, so I don't think they're placeholders." In all honesty, this case had pissed you off. 

Twelve dead women and no one seemed to care until you phoned the department up yourself when VICAP flagged it all with you. Half of the cases had been closed for lack of evidence, and the other half so poorly investigated that you knew it was only a matter of time before they got boxed up and shelved too. 

"The general public in Zephyrhills doesn't even know they have a serial killer. No one is being told to exert caution. There's no local press on this either." 

"It says that these women were all killed, but there's no viable DNA they could pick up?" Morgan asks, looking up at you. 

"That's right, no DNA evidence can be lifted, but spermicide was found on three of the victims." 

"So our unsub was wearing a condom. He came prepared, and we were dealing with a serial rapist who has bridged into murdering his victims." 

"There was no spermicide found on the other nine victims?" Emily looks up at you from her place at the small table. 

"No. Rape test kits weren't run on any of the other victims because, quote: 'it was pretty obvious what had happened.' The precinct waited too long to collect the DNA evidence  and now we don't have enough to locate, let alone prosecute an unsub based on DNA."

The whole team shared in your stressed look then, sending you matching sympathetic glances as they suddenly understood the herculean task you'd taken on trying to convince the locals to invite you in. 

Not noticing the awkward silence that fell on the group, Spencer spoke up quickly from his place, standing beside you. 

"You know, Zephyrhills is only about an hour away from Tampa. Tampa is the number one hook up spot in the US. It's residents boast on average 14 orgasms a month instead of the nationwide average of 12.5." He seemed pleased with the knowledge he'd just let everyone in on, as you looked back on him.

"Right. So our guy is trying to get his rocks off to out gun the rest of the country. Thanks, Spencer." 

"It's relevant. It's says in the casefile here that three of our victims were last spotted on the highway making their way to Tampa, but then their bodies were found dumped in Zephyrhills. What if he's following them?"

"Spencer has a point, but if he's following them, what gets them to turn around? The cars were found abandoned in Zephyrhills, too, none of these women made it to Tampa." Hotch adds, and you make eye contact with him as your next thought comes to you. 

"What could get someone to stop on a highway?" You ask, the question so simple, every single one of them knew the answer before you'd even finished asking.

"A cop." JJ filled in, and you all sat silently as you realised how dangerous this next case could truly be. 

"We're about an hour out from arrival, everyone get some rest for now, I'm going to make a call to the nearest FBI Field Office, see if any of this is on their radar."

You slunked back to your seat at the back of the jet and sat down again, trying to get comfy but ending up just shifting multiple times in your seat.

Spencer joined you, sitting beside you, so close you could feel his eyes on you as your leg began to bounce. He put his hand over it and, with a strong hand, stilled the movement. 

"Y/N, you did a good job connecting these cases." His voice was meek and calming, and you'd generally very much appreciate it if his hand weren't sending your body through some serious loops right then. 

Your leg was on fire where he was touching you, his hand hot even through the fabric of your clothes. But when he pulled the hand away, watching your legs for any further tremors, you felt the need to snatch it back and replace it on your leg, certain that it would sooth the burning once more. 

You snapped yourself out of it quickly. If you were thinking this way about Spencer of all people, then you really needed to get laid. 

"Tampa's population consists of 43% singles, you know. Good statistics for getting laid." You twisted your head around to meet his eyes again.

"Tell me I didn't say that outloud." But his small smile dashed your hopes as you realised you just admitted to feeling incredibly horny because of his hand on your knee. 

"If it's any consolation, I'm definitely the only one who heard it." His hand fell back to your thigh, and you twitched as it did, but you didn't move him. 

"Fucking floridians and their goddamn 14 orgams a month," you muttered under your breath, hoping that he wasn't paying any attention to you now, seeing as how he'd opened up a book to hold in one hand. 

"Lucky if I get even one and Florida man has 14 in him." You continue mumbling as you try to get cosy, closing your eyes and moving your head to find a comfortable position. 

“You definitely said that one out loud.” He laughed, and you threw up your middle finger while letting your head fall back and your body take the rest it needed. 

Without opening your eyes, you decided you needed the last word, a phenomenon you often found occurring in Spencer’s presence. 

“A gentleman would pretend to not have heard that, Spencer.”

“I’m not a gentleman.” Annoyance prickled you at his reply, but you were too tired to say anything more as you caught up with the sleep that had been evading you for weeks. 

–X–

Your landing in Florida comes almost too soon, and Hotch delegates tasks before you’ve even had the chance to properly get your feet beneath you after so long in the sky. 

This case was becoming more of a mindfield with each of the pieces of information you’d received. Upon getting off of his call with the FBI Field Office closest to Zephryhills, Hotch had informed the team about an ongoing investigation into the police captain’s wife, whose pseudo-Christian church group were spewing vitriol about damn near every group you could think of. 

“Religious discrimination, racism, sexism, homophobia and some pretty screwed up views of basically everything else, too.” Penelope had informed the group, pulling up the files that had been sent to her.

“It seems their most recent project is… Oh, how relevant. An adult establishment just opened up on the outskirts of Tampa, right on the highway that connects it to Zephyrhills. And from the boasts of the club owner on social media, it seems he’s telling anyone who listens that he’s not going to get shut down because the police are his main clientele.” 

She sent through links to some of the posts to your iPads, and you angled the thing towards Spencer so he could take in the new information as well. 

“Could we be looking at a religious motive to the murders? You said that the police captain called these women Jezebels. The name is biblical, she was a Queen who worshipped a false god and was defenestrated because of it, but over time, the uncapitalised jezebel, as you know, tended to refer to women with loose morals.”

“The motives could still be religious, but these women were raped. It says in the case files that Mrs. James’s church group is solely comprised of women, mostly the wives of the officers in the police force.” 

Again, everything was leading you back to this stupid police precinct. You grimmaced as you realised that the next few weeks were going to be spent on the edge watching your back. 

“Y/N, Reid, I want you both with me at the precinct when we land. Morgan, JJ, go to the church and interview some of the ladies there, see if you can’t push some buttons. Emily, Rossi, some of the family’s of the victims got in touch with the field office to request inquiries, go anf find out whatever you can about the last known whereabouts of these women.” 

Now bracing yourself, you set your face in a neutral expression and let Spencer hold the door open for you as you walked into the station. 

“Hello, we’re the agents from the FBI. Where can we find your captain?” You ask the receptionist at the chatting to her desk, but just as you finish your inquiry, another officer cuts you off, stepping half in front of you and demanding some files from the woman. 

She stands awkwardly, sending you an apologetic glance as she scurries off to go and complete whatever busy work he’s just given her as you quietly seeth at his back. 

The officer turns around to you and grins, sending you a smile as he walks off, apparently pleased with himself for foiling your attempts to find his boss. 

“Y/N, keep a cool head. The captain’s office seems to be just ahead, I’m going to go and see if he’s there, smooth out some of the issues they seem to be having over here with our presence.” You nod and stay back with Spencer, who takes a quick seat behind you. 

You don’t sit, though, too on edge and pissed off to get comfortable now. 

The officers seem to ignore the two of you, bustling around you with no sense of shame, but you can tell they're watching you, hearing the low murmur of whispers. 

When one of them decides to out their hands on you, though, you've decided you've had enough.

"Sorry, little lady, I need to get through. Important police business." He practically Leeds down at you as his hands grab your waist, meaning to move you aside to her you out of his path. 

You don't give him the chance, grabbing his hands from your hips and twisting them behind his back quickly, shoving him face first into the nearest desk. 

"Fuck, you little bitch. Come and control your partner, man." He struggles in your grasp, signalling to Spencer. 

You grin as Spencer doesn't even look up at him, having pulled out a copy of War and Peace and settling nicely in his seat. You could tell he was on edge though, had seen the slight way his body tensed when you'd first been touched, and knew that if you'd needed it, he'd be there backing you up in a second. 

"Sorry, are you talking to me?" He finally said, still not looking up from his book. 

"Yes, get this bitch off of me." 

"If you ask her nicely, I'm sure Agent Y/N would release you. As for me, I'm certainly not making her do anything she doesn't want to." He grinned as he said it, and you rolled your eyes slightly.

"Maybe if you told some of these other agents here to stop looking at her likes, she's a hunk of meat and greeted her respectfully instead of calling her… little lady, was it? Maybe then she'd be more generous." The man grumbled beneath you again, but before you could actually force his hand, Hotch and the Captain were exiting his office, obviously alerted by the crashing sound you'd made. 

"Reid, Y/N, that's enough." Hotch signalled, and you complied, letting the man go and stepping back to Reid's side. He'd stood now, squaring his shoulders and making use of his quite intimidating height. You must seem tense, though, because the second you settle next to him, he puts a hand on your lower back, and you're surprised at how calm you instantly become. 

Earlier, his touch had been fire and ice, and now it was relaxing you beyond belief. What the hell was wrong with your body recently? 

"Thank you, sir," the officer said, straightening, dusting off his uniform as he levelled a glare at both you and Spencer. "I was beginning to think the FBI was just a bunch of sissy's and menstruators-" 

"Cut the crap." Hotch barked out, and even you were startled by the sound. "Captain, if you or any member of your precinct says anything further about any member of my team, or god forbid puts a hand on them, I'll personally make sure this office is charged with conspiracy to murder for not investigating these deaths and aggravated assault of a federal officer. Do I make myself clear?" 

The man seemed displeased at having his badge threatened for a second time in 24 hours, but nodded, dismissed the other officer, and finally shut up. 

He has the female receptionist from earlier show you to the room you'd be using for your investigation for the next few weeks. 

After  making sure the room is secure, you place a call to Penelope and the others trying to gauge if they'd found any further leads. 

"Some of the family members know exactly where they were going that night. One of them had a husband, said he was going with her, that they drove in separate cars because it was part of the thrill of it all." Emily's voice sounded tense and frustrated, and you could only sympathise silently before jumping in to ask her more questions.

"I thought they said it was an adult establishment? Does that not mean strip club?" You asked, perplexed at why the married couple would be going together. 

"No, from what I can tell, it seems these women were members of the BDSM community, and that place… is somewhere they can practice." 

"So even if we do somehow get another victim, any DNA test could be questionable evidence because they all left to have consensual sex." You sighed out and ran a stressed hand through your hair.

On your call with JJ and Morgan, you got much of the same. 

"Oh, they're angry, alright. About the immigrants and the drug dealers, the homosexuals, and the jezebels. Seems they're working hard to get the club closed not just because it's a house of sin but also because the man who owns it might be an illegal immigrant."

"How quaint and Christian of them."

"Yep, and get this, the club's official title? Women for the Grace of God. There were no men in this group, Y/N. We're not going to find our unsub here." 

Hanging up, you let your head hang, the fatigue of the case really kicking your ass. 

"Spencer, draw the blinds, Y/N, lock the doors." Hotch ordered, and you listened, quickly making sure that no one was even close to the door. Returning to your seat, you noted the tense set of your boss's jaw and decided that whatever he had to say wasn't going to be good. 

"Our unsub is in this precinct, which means we're not safe. But it also puts us in a unique position. They don't know we suspect them yet. We can force the unsubs hand." 

You straightened in your chair, listening closer. 

"You want to bait them out?" Spencer asked from his place beside you. 

"I want you two to bait them out. You already got under a few of the officers' skin, push a few more buttons, and we could get our unsub to slip up." 

"And how are we supposed to do that?" You asked, heart thumping in anticipation. You thought you already knew, but you needed to hear the words from his mouth to be sure. 

"They're going after women in the BDSM lifestyle. Let's convince them that the two of you are also similarly involved." 

He turned and left you with the decision then, leaving you and Spencer in the small room alone. 

Your palms were sweaty, and you refused eye contact for a few minutes before he finally cracked and gave in first.

"It'd work." He whispered, suddenly closer than you remembered. 

"What?" 

"It would work. Whoever this guy is, he's getting off on dominating these women, seeing another man that he deems physically inferior dominating a woman who's already kicked an officers ass… that's enough to get him to crumble, slip up."

"So I'm supposed to just bend over and take it?"

"Bend over, yes, but I usually prefer women to be a bit bratty." 

"What?" You found yourself blinking up at his face, even as the door swung open again, another officer walking into the small room you'd been left in. 

You stepped away from Reid slightly, putting a more appropriate distance between the two of you before the man started talking. 

"Well hello, I heard we had some feds in the office, thought I'd come introduce myself, but I didn't hear we had such a beautiful woman here, too. She a witness?" He directed the question to Spencer, but his leering eyes never left your body, trailing down slowly and disgustingly as you tried not to shudder under his gaze. 

"I'm Doctor Spencer Reid, this is my partner, Agent Y/N. How can we help you?"

"Oh, I'm all set on my medicals, doc. You can't help me. Maybe she can if you let me take her out for a test drive?" Your blood boiled as he said those words, and you were about to send a cutting reply back to the man, when Spencer sat back down in his seat, snaking an arm around your waist to take you with him.

"Sorry, I don't lend out my private property." Stunned, you tried to act naturally about your new position, but his hand on your thigh slashes your brain capacity down by half, the only thought in your head running through Spencer Reid's possible sexual preferences. 

"Oh, I see how it is. She's a slut, just not that kind. Okay, I'll bite, what's this one into? Choking, spanking? Careful, don't go too far or you'll be prime suspect number one for our perp." 

"What are you insinuating, officer?"

"That these sluts you're asking about got in over their heads. Some women like it rough, practically beg for it. Poor guy just did what they were asking." Biting your tongue, you let the man keep digging his own hole, as Spencer kept him talking.

"Actually, contrary to popular opinion, in most sado-masochistic relationships, the submissive partner is the one in control. They have power to stop whatever role play is going on in the scene through safe words and actions, and the dominant role is more of a protective role, requiring a deep level of commitment and care for their sub." As he said it, he turned your face to his, hooking a finger under your chin and then stroking your face as you fell further into his body. 

You almost forgot the other officer was there until you heard his grumbled reply, turning your head slightly to whisper in Reid's ear. 

"Long shot, Doc." With that, you climbed from his lap, turning back to the other officer with a grin. 

"Sorry, was there anything professional we could help you with? Or would you like to go and deal with your little problem alone in the men's bathroom now?" He turned on his heels and exited swiftly, face red with rage at your insinuations. 

"Okay. I'll admit, it's going to work. But we're going to need to set up some bait and deliver the profile to them to make sure we have each and every one of their attentions."

"I'll notify, Hotch." 

"Spencer, wait." He stopped at the door and turned back to listen to you. "Earlier when you said… when you mentioned that you'd prefer…" You tried to ask the question  but it seemed the question just wasn't going to form on your lips  so you simply let out a small frustrated humph and let him figure out the rest. 

"Y/N, I… I don't know how to answer that question and still act professionally around you."

He left the room shortly after, and you couldn't help but feel disappointed at the distance suddenly kept between the two of you. You were beginning to become much too distracted by Spencer Reid.

–X– 

"Let's have another rundown again, just so we're all clear on the play by play on this." Morgan said as you and Spencer were wired up, ready for your operation. 

It wasn't exactly undercover, but it wasn't quite straight police work either, but here you were. After giving the profile earlier, you'd noted that three of the officers had seemed a little bit fidgety under all the new information they were getting, all three of them matching your profile. 

Unluckily for you, they just happened to be the Captain in charge of the precinct, Detective Handsy from your first trip into the office, and Detective Dumbass, who'd asked you and Spencer all about BDSM earlier that day. 

Penelope had filled you in on each of their backgrounds. The Captain was second generation police force, but court of public opinion had ruled that his father wasn't exactly an upstanding guy, a report corroborated by his mother's multiple accidents and trips to the ER. Detective Handsy had a misdemeanour sex crime expunged from his juvenile record for masturbating in public - on the unconscious girl who sat next to him on the bus.

Detective Dumbass seemed to be the police contact for all the local prostitutes. He'd busted at least thirty in three months, and each of them had reportedly tried to turn him in as the John who'd paid for their services. 

"Run through it again." Morgan brought you down to earth as JJ finished attaching the wire under your clothing, handing you the small in ear so you could hear updates from the team. 

"We walk into the bar, get a little too close for comfort than they'd like, then ask the bartender where we can have some fun around here. She's been prepped to give us the answer we want, and we set out on the highway where Rossi and Hotch are waiting in unmarked cars to give us an escort until our unsub takes the bait and tries to pull us over." 

"Good, now, Spencer, do I have to show you where to put your hands, or do you think you've read enough to figure out how to push the right buttons?" From the grin on his face, it was evident he was enjoy pushing the younger man's buttons  but you could tell he wasn't doing it maliciously. The two of you were both tense and on edge, and you needed that waylaid somehow. 

"Trust me, Morgan, I think he knows where his fingers should go." You said before grabbing Spencer’s hand and dragging him out of the vehicle, not letting him go until you were right by the door of the bar. 

You didn't really let him go either, it's more like he caught up to you and moved his hand from yours to your ass instead, pulling you closer into his body as you made to move inside the bar. 

He hesitated a moment outside, though.

"Y/N, we haven't talked about boundaries yet. I'm going to have to touch you in there and-"

"You have my permission. For anything." Your words come faster than you expect, but they're there, filling the silence of the night quickly. 

"Anything?" He asks, a small play lighting up his lips as he pulls you in closer. You can feel his breath on your skin, and you almost take back your words until he lowers his head. Your lips are barely an inch apart and getting slowly closer as you angle your head up towards him, when the bar doors swing open and he turns and pulls you inside instead. 

You recover quickly, trying to focus on the twelve women who need to find justice rather than the many things you suddenly want Spencer Reid to be doing to you. 

You slide into a booth at the edge of the bar  but you'd canvassed the place earlier, knowing that while it appeared to be a quiet corner, every other table had a clear view of your actions in the corner. 

Surely enough  you felt a few pairs of eyes on you as you sat down, a little closer for comfort than you expected.

"Well, Penelope's sources were correct. It seems like every cop in town is here tonight." You said, whispering the words into Spencer's neck, just above where his own wire was placed, making sure the words were heard by both him and the members of your team left in the surveillance van. 

"Show time," he said, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his lips as you stood. He gave your ass a quick slap as you made to walk towards the bar, and you sent him back a wink as you walked to order your drinks. 

Ordering them quickly, you took a simple scan of the room, noting that all three of your suspects were social butterflies tonight. They all sat on different tables, but each had at least another man with him, and every single one of them was looking at you presitorially. 

Returning to your seat with the drinks, you never felt their gazes leave you. 

"Certainly caught their attention. What now?" You asked hesitantly, sliding up against Spencer’s body again. 

"Now we give them a show." He said, snaking a hand between your legs and forcing them apart gently. You'd changed into a shorter skirt and smaller top before coming back out, needing to look the part of the slut they'd already deemed you. 

You smiled up at Spencer as he stoked your thigh suggestively, but he never moved it further up. 

"Spencer, kiss me." You said, eyelids heavy as you begged the man to take you further than touching. 

"Why?" He asked softly in your ear.

"Because a few of our suspects are getting restless, and I want to see if we can tip some of them over the edge. Obviously you're smarter than trying to stick your hand up my skirt in public surrounded by a group of cops who would happily stick you in a cell for the night for public indecency, so you're just going to have to stick your tongue down my throat." 

"Here I was thinking maybe you wanted it," he grumbled but complied anyway, grabbing the back of your head with his free hand and pulling you towards him. The kiss wasn't soft. It wasn't gentle the way his caresses were. It was hot and it was demanding, and when he pulled away after a minute and your lips followed his desperate for more  he grabbed your hair and pulled you backwards, baring your neck to him easily as he moved his lips down slightly. 

Opening your eyes then, you again surveyed the bar, noting that the Captain and his friends were leaving, sending a stink eyed glare in your direction as they threw down their cups and left. 

"Morgan, get eyes on the Captain. Make sure he goes home and stays there," you breathe out quietly, waiting to hear the affirmative in your ear as Spencer kept his head buried at your neck. 

In another second, he was off you, taking a swig only his drink as he smoothed your hair down again. You do your best to ignore the history pooling between your legs and the haze clouding up your brain as you stare at him swallow the drink, watching a small stream of the soda you'd ordered him instead run down his chin. 

You watched it fall and, in a moment of thoughtlessness, pressed forward to lap it up from his neck. He'd spent time marking you. What harm could this do now? 

However you rationalised it, you knew it was just an impulse, one greatly rewarded by his hands pulling your hips over his and a growl in your ears. 

"Anything?" Was the only thing he said, and you pulled away to look into his eyes again before he pulled you in for another kiss. 

"Sorry to interrupt, love bunnies, but we've had a change of plan. Two of our suspects are out, and they've bailed and been safely and discreetly escorted home by FBI agents from the field office. Hotch and Rossi are on the way back. He thinks we can nail him in there and get him to act out." 

Pulling back from the kiss long enough to whisper your reply to Morgan into Spencer's mic, you can barely tear your eyes away from the man. 

"What do you want us to do?" 

"Men's bathroom is free. Hotch thinks if we make it look like you're doing something less than holy in there that it could force his hand. Especially because he's shown voyeuristic tendencies in the past."

"Shit. Detective Dumbass?" 

"Only one left. And his name is Dunbar. You'd do well to remember that in the paperwork."

Pulling yourself up and out of Spencer's lap, you took a swig of your drink again as you stood. 

"Follow me in three minutes." He grabs you by your wrist and turns you back around to him again, though before you can leave.

"Y/N, we're going to get this guy. After we do, I think we should talk." Instead of answering him, you pressed another lingering kiss to his lips and moved out again, heading directly to the dark corridor where the bathrooms were. 

You slipped into the men's easily enough, thankful that it was empty. It was a single stall, and when you heard the knock on the door two minutes later, you were suddenly thankful that it was, because it meant that you could lock the door behind him and not risk anyone else coming in while you baited your unsub.

Spencer placed a hand to his lips as soon as he made it through the door, pulling out his phone to type out a message to you without speaking. 

"Followed me. Think he's listening outside." 

You pulled your own out to answer him.

"Let's give him a show then."

The both of you discarded your phones on the countertop of the bathroom and suddenly collided again, as if you were two magnets who could no longer resist the pull. 

Your lips fought hungrily, and now you didn't pull back your voice  letting all the moans of pleasure fall from your mouth and fill the bathroom.

His hands were on you in an instant, pushing you back against the door, letting the creep behind the wall hear as much as possible as his hips found yours and you started grinding against him like your life depended on it. 

You could no longer tell what you were doing for the case, and what you were doing out of the simple desire to do so, wrapped up in all of the pleasure he was giving you in that minute. And that was before he started talking. 

"You like that, whore? You like feeling my hands on you out here in this dirty bathroom." You clenched around nothing, even as his hands trailed lower, reaching the top of your skirt just as you replied. 

"Yes, I like that, Daddy. Please touch me more." 

You crashed together again, even as Spencer's hand fell inside your skirt and panties suddenly reaching for your clit. You forgot everything. The bathroom, the unsub, the wire you were wearing. When his hands were on you your only thoughts were him. 

You gasped in delight as he began rubbing you, moaning out heartily, not bothering to restrain your voice. Even if there was not a murderer on the other side of the door, you'd have wanted everyone to know how good he was making you feel. 

"Kneel," he says, and you listen, getting down to the dirty floor for him and looking up at him innocently.

"Now what, sir?" You ask, teasing him with a smile. He gives your face a light slap in reply, but the sound is sharp, and you can hear some movement outside. You don't get to think about it for too long, however, as he suddenly removes his cock from his pants. 

"Suck" is all the instruction you need before you're taking him into your mouth and wrapping your tongue around him. 

After the entire night of teasing, you don't have to be told twice. You take him down your throat until you're gagging, but he puts his hands on your head and pushes you further anyway. 

"That's it, baby, such a nice little slut just for me." He holds your hair as he begins fucking your face, softly whispering insults into the quiet bathroom. 

"Perfect little slut, letting me do this here. For anyone to see and hear how much you like my dick down your throat. I should unlock this door, show everyone how nicely you take my cock."

You moan around him, desperately gripping his thigh as you struggle to breathe. He finally pulls out, pulling you up by your hair until you're face to face with him again, saliva dripping from your mouth. 

"Is that how you like it?" He asks, and you nod fervently.

"Yes, sir. Please fuck me now, I've been such a good little girl." 

He turns you and presses you against the door again. As you turn your ear to it, you can hear some pacing outside of it as he lifts up your skirt.

You were ready to feel this perfect bliss, right up to the moment Morgan decided to remind you of the task at hand. 

"Hotch is here. We've got him cornered. Great acting, guys. We're thinking if Y/N exits the bathroom now, we can catch him trying to carry her off." 

His hands stilled on you, and you both stared guiltily into each other's eyes. You kept your sounds up, definitely acting now, feeling as though you'd just been doused in ice-cold water.

Footsteps retreating down the hall had you suddenly nodding in response to each other, faking your orgasm with one last large gasp followed by a few minutes of silence and you straightened your clothes ready to bait the unsub once again. He tucks himself into his pants, and you loudly discuss your plans for separate exits. 

"I'll meet you back at the table in five." He says, and with another lingering look, you're out the door and alone in the dark corridor, feeling empty and needy.

It was time to catch a killer.

[bi-writes]

you get into big trouble, and you must pay the price. but bunnies should be terrified, and you are not.

mercenary!ghost x fem!reader (part 3/?)

notes about reader: she's curvy !!!! and she knows it.

cw: this is not a healthy relationship (you're both fucking insane), mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dark!ghost, mean!ghost, toxic!ghost, possessive + protective!ghost, kissing through the mask, mentions/depictions of violence + gore, innocence kink, corruption kink, size kink (reader is described as much smaller than ghost, can be easily manhandled by him), ghost is bIG, mentions of ghost's canon trauma, mw3 spoilers, fem!receiving touching + a little oral (18+), unprotected piv

his phone pings. he turns it over, narrowing his eyes at the text on the screen.

🐰: made some cookies. come over?

he runs his tongue over his teeth, clicking it lowly before leaning back in his chair. his ass hurts; he's been sitting here for hours, watching a dark window do nothing for hours.

💀: Working.

🐰: i have a surprise for you !!!

💀: Later.

for a moment, he thinks he should be nicer. give his puppy a bone. tell her he misses the taste of her pretty pussy, that he can still smell her on the mask he hasn't washed. and this is true, he knows it; he aches to go back to where she lives. he wants to see her again. put his dirty, gloved fingers into her mouth and watch her cry, soak her soft panties again, steal them, watch her cry harder when he finally gives her what she wants.

the most horrifying part is that he wants it. he wants to feel the warmth of her body. he wants to see her wide hips stutter, her pretty thighs open. he thinks about bending her over and kneeling down behind her, spreading the meat of her ass so he can watch her come undone against the velvet cushions of her couch.

you're so fucking pretty. and you're everywhere. when he grips the metal of his rifle, he thinks about how hard he was when he ate your cunt--fucking solid, balls so heavy and tight that he thinks he came for a full minute when he finally touched himself that night. when the sight of that rifle finds its target, he thinks about the way your pupils dilated when you came, the way your eyes rolled back into your head and the little sounds you made when he drank up the essence of you. when he swings his knife and plunges it into a soft neck, he thinks about your smile, the teeth you bared, the ones he wants to slide his tongue over when he kisses you again.

he had kissed you. kissed someone. the thought alone would normally make him vomit. to think of another person seeing his face, it bothered him, would usually make him feel sick--disgusted. his face wasn't meant for anyone to see, not even just half of it, and yet--he let you touch him.

and it didn't burn.

he remembers when he had taken a hand once for it. feeling someone's touch on his face, feeling scarred all over again by it, and taking flesh as their penance.

it was only fair.

there is something wrong with him. he should've killed you for it. your hand on his jaw, your lips on his, he should've killed you for touching him--and yet here he is, in another lonely room, staring at his target, thinking about how he can get your hands on him again. how he might coax you into kissing him just one more time.

he doesn't want to make it a habit. but he does want it to happen again. and it is enough that he knows he shouldn't see you again, but he will, because he's selfish. because he's hungry. because there is place inside of him, one that he thought was hollow and untreatable, that is just that much satiated whenever he is with you.

when he closes his eyes, he sees what haunts him. it isn't the memories of torture. he doesn't feel the wood of a coffin he once laid in. he doesn't feel the sting of pain when they carved layers into his face, he doesn't feel the holes they left along his chest when they rooted out pieces of him. he doesn't feel what he felt when they popped his fingernails off one by one.

no, he feels the ghost of someone's touch. he feels the rough callouses of skilled hands. he thinks of the bruised knuckles that used to scrape over the ridges of his uneven skin, and he thinks of the eyes that used to look at him as if he wasn't this mangled, forgotten thing.

he thinks of those eyes, and how blue they used to be. he thinks of what they looked like with that brightness in them, how they used to move, so fluid and easy. and he thinks of what they looked like with nothing in them. he thinks of them when they reflected nothing but the dull light over his head, and he thinks of the scream he let out when he was alone, when he still had his blood on his gloves.

ghost never begs. he doesn't beg, he never has, but he thinks he did that night. he thinks he begged, to who, to no one maybe, but he begged anyway, but it doesn't matter.

no one answered, and he knows there is a place inside of him so fucking hollow, that nothing will fill it again. a hole that only seems to be dug deeper and deeper with each thing he loses.

he never looked back when he left. he didn't say a word. he didn't even take his belongings, he just left. and the only thing he still carries with him from his past life is how good he is at killing and the extra dog tags that hang around his neck.

ghost isn't real. there is nothing about him that is redeemable, nothing about him that is good enough to love, and that is why he just doesn't care. and when he stopped caring, the nightmares went away. when he stopped wondering where they were, what they were seeing, if they would be disappointed in him, he no longer saw their faces in his dreams, watching them fade to black as the soft images turned into violent ones.

when he stopped being human, they left him, and he is so grateful for it. and that is why you were going to be a problem.

because he wants. he desires. he tastes, and he hungers, and you are sweet, and he wants to have you, and it isn't right. he knows this. he knows what it is he needs to do, but he won't do it--and there is a voice in his head that begs, from a far away place, for him to let you go.

but while he might not be human any longer, he is still a man, and men are weak.

as a man, he cannot close his eyes and forget your pretty face. he cannot stop thinking about your warm thighs, the softness of you, the unscarred skin that you wear. you wear your body as it is yours, and not like it holds you back, not like his does. your belly is full, and your heart is good, and you are warm. you aren't made of something else, you are real, and his blood runs so cold, he can't help but itch to feel you again.

there is something about you that makes that place inside of him feel like it isn't there, even for just a moment. and those moments remind him of someone else, of something else, something he once had that made him sick to think about having again.

the last time he had this, it killed him. the last time he found himself here, he didn't realize it had happened until it was too late--he was buried, deep, and there was no escaping a shallow grave this time because he thinks he loved the one that put him there. the last time he thought this way, he felt not himself, not enough, but it had been everything his life had been without, so he stayed, and he let it happen, and he didn't push him away, and now look at me--look at what I've done, look at what I've become--

men are weak. and men are lonely. and it was only a matter of time before ghost found himself there again, on his knees for something else. something soft and sweet and real, something that loves unconditionally and begs for attention and is never satiated until he looks at them and gives them what they need.

he doesn't know what he will become after you. he doesn't know what it will make of him. he knows you will go before him--he knows you will die before he does, because he isn't capable of dying, and even though he knows this as a fact, he wants to die again. but he won't try, because it won't work, even if he takes the blade strapped to his side and shoves it right through his heart.

he doesn't have one. he doesn't know what such a wound would even do. and he doesn't wish to see what color his blood will run if he does it, anyways.

you don't like the distance he keeps you at. it isn't fair. you do everything he asks--you go where he goes, you let him come and go whenever he wants, you spread your legs for him and let him have his fill, and you don't complain when he leaves even though your mouth waters thinking about getting your mouth on him and hearing him bask in his own pleasure for even a moment.

he gives and he takes, but he lets you do neither, and you want more. you know he isn't capable of more, you know he doesn't want more, but you want it, and he needs it. he needs you, despite what he says, despite how he acts, and you will give him what he needs.

you see it in his eyes. the things that aren't there, the things you think he once had but doesn't have anymore. sometimes he talks like you aren't there, and he mentions someone else.

another person. someone he used to know. someone he used to love, you think, but he isn't capable of love anymore, so you often wonder what they did to him to make him this way.

aloof. detached. so entirely fucked, he cannot make connections or hold the ones he has or let himself have what he needs. they have done something to him, and he wears the aftermath of it so clearly.

"he woulda liked you," he says sometimes.

"woulda loved the taste of y'r cunt," he murmurs once.

but they are gone. and you are not. and you know that there is something here. otherwise, he would never come back. he would not want to see you again. maybe he would have even killed you, but he hasn't, and he eats pussy like he loves you, so you decide you won't leave him alone. you won't let him go. this isn't fair, and you will get what it is you want--and give him what it is he needs.

you see him in the pub that you met in. he sits at the far corner of the bar, tucked in the dark against the wall, and he swirls a glass of bourbon in front of him. he wears a rain jacket over his dark hoodie, and you light up when you catch sight of him.

you wear something nice for him. a short skirt, a cotton shirt tucked into it, a cropped jacket over top, and your boots make you feel tall, but you know it won't matter--you'll never be taller or bigger than that large, hulking man you have your eyes fixated on.

but when he sees you, he doesn't react the way you expect. he doesn't sit up, doesn't get off his seat to come get you, he doesn't move at all. his eyes run over you, and then they move back down to his drink.

like he doesn't know what you taste like between your legs. like he doesn't know you at all.

your smile fades. you clutch your purse now in clammy hands, and you walk shakily to the bar and sit, swallowing hard as you try and hold in the shaky breath in your throat. your chest hurts a little; your heart has fallen into your stomach, and you shift on the bar stool, fidgety and uncertain.

you had been so happy to see him. you had been so excited to come here. you hadn't seen him in weeks--but the sparse texts he had sent you were enough to keep you hanging onto your phone whenever it made a sound, as if one of those notifications might be him, throwing you just enough attention to keep you on your toes, desperate.

your lip trembles a little as the bartender comes to take your order. you ask for a shot and a chaser, and you tell him to make it a double. you want to be drunk, and you want to be drunk quickly.

you tip the drink back, swallowing it down. it burns, holds a fire in your chest, and you chase it with a seltzer, swallowing down the contents of both until you slam the can back on the counter, hiccuping.

you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, and when you realize ghost is still not looking at you, you're drunk enough to test his limits.

there's a group of boys down on the other side of the counter. they're playing darts, and they're drinking, and you slip off the barstool with a little step before making your way over cautiously. you pull your shirt down, show off the swell of your tits, and you ask them if they'll teach you to throw darts.

they practically cheer with delight. you hear one of them drool over your ass in that skirt, you hear another whine about looking down your shirt and at the peek of the lace bra you wear, and you shiver when you realize all you ever wanted was attention.

someone to tell you that you're pretty. that you make them hungry. but it isn't all you want, and they can't give you what you want.

they won't die for you. they won't live for you. and certainly, you know, they won't kill for you. but there's a man on the other side of the room that you want doing those things for you, that has the fucking balls to do those things for you, that possesses no good bone in his body that would do those things easily for you.

you see him in your dreams, breaking necks and popping kneecaps and slicing soft skin just to please you, and it makes you ache inside. you know what he does. he's never lied to you, but he doesn't always tell you the whole truth, but you fill in the blanks of the spaces he leaves behind, and you know what it is he does.

there's blood on his boots and money in his pocket, and you should be so afraid, but you never could be. not with the way he touches you. not with the way he talks to you. not with the way he puts his tongue inside of you and holds your thighs apart, and not with the way he grunts when he disappears into your bathroom to fuck himself to the image of you on your couch, half-naked as you wait for a fucking that never comes.

why won't he touch me? why won't he fuck me? why doesn't he rip the rest of my clothes off and have his way with me? he doesn't seem like the kind of man to ask for permission, but he eats me, and then he leaves me, and i can't take it anymore, please, please, please--

you're dizzy. the room spins, and the boys laugh, and your darts are hitting the wall now, clattering to the floor as they all boo and snicker at the way you're stumbling in your heels.

they're too close. you can smell the vodka and beer too much, and it's too warm because they're too close to you. someone's hand is on your thigh, another holds you upright with a grabby grip on your back, and there's someone else playing with your hair. they hum and they talk, and when they say they want to take you home, all you can do is hiccup and smile.

but as soon as you turn and leave, there's a large shadow waiting outside the door, leaning against the wall. you giggle knowingly, because you knew he would be here, and when the boys notice him, they try to take you in the other direction.

"if y'blokes knew wot was good for ya, y'd let 'er go and be on y'r way." he isn't in a good mood. he clicks his teeth as he comes off the wall, stepping under the streetlight. it makes the shadows of his hoodie darker, but his eyes are clearer now, bright under the mask as he breathes hard. he's angry, and he doesn't seem like his patience will linger tonight.

"oi, mate, relax," one of them laughs, and you giggle again when you see ghost tilt his head to the side. fuck, he's deadly, and you're wet. you squeeze your legs together looking at him, and you want him to put one big hand on your waist and tilt your head back--you want him to push his mask up and kiss you, all sloppy and soft like he did all those weeks ago. you want him to put his hands up your skirt and fuck you with his fingers right in the street, the same hands he squeezed the life out of someone with, the same hands he was going to kill these boys with.

ghost steps closer, and he goes for the nearest. brings a hand up, smacking one big hand against their cheek until their head hit the side of the building, and he crumpled to the floor in a pool of his own blood.

they scatter like bugs. stumbling drunk over their feet, tripping, and they disappear into the dark as ghost tilts his head to the other side now, looking at you.

you smile. giddy, hitting your toes together, and when you step to the side, you don't notice you've stepped in that man's blood.

"y'think this is fuckin' funny, eh? hangin' about with lot like that, y'think it's fuckin' funny?" he spits, and you put your hands behind your back, biting your lip.

"you...you ignored me," you hiccup. "why did you ignore me?"

"that wot this is about?" ghost snarls. "me not givin' you a proper look?"

you bite your lip harder, nearly drawing blood.

"i missed you," you whisper, your lip trembling slightly. "m-missed you so much..."

"fuck off with that," he mutters, but you step closer anyways. when he doesn't step back, you step forward again, until you're flush against his chest, tilting your head back to look up at him. you go languid when his arm falls, slipping up the back of your skirt just like you imagined. he squeezes the flesh of your ass before he leans down, and you whine when he presses the front of his mask against your lips. you kiss, your soft mouth kissing him through the fabric.

"is he dead?" you ask when he pulls away. ghost says nothing at first, just smooths his hand over the lace of your panties. he grunts when he slides his fingers between the seam, satisfied when he hears the squelch of your wet pussy as he pets you there. you squirm a little.

"dunno," ghost murmurs, and you get wetter you think, at how nonchalant he behaves as he touches you shamelessly where anyone might see. "fuck, bunny, y'r soakin' my fuckin' gloves."

"why don't you like me?" you whimper. you reach up and put both hands on his chest, and you dig your nails there, but you meet resistance. the muscle and fat there barely give way, and he hums when you drag your nails down, anchoring yourself to him. when you meet his eyes, they are dull, and you know he doesn't care. "i-i like you...i-i like you so much..." he huffs in annoyance, but you keep going, "you like someone else," you whisper. "there's someone else..."

someone else. as if there is some kind of competition, and maybe there is, but it isn't what you think. there is someone in his head, someone that screams for him to leave, someone that begs him--simon, please, yer goin' to hurt 'er, please, she's so pretty, please--but it isn't because he loves someone else, it's because he did love someone else, and he doesn't think there's room for more.

but he also cannot explain what swelled in his chest when he watched you with those boys. the searing heat of emotion that bubbled in his throat, and how the only relief he feels is the satisfaction that the boy at your feet bleeds because he put his hands on you, that is good, make them suffer, touching what fuckin' belongs to me.

there's a breaking point. it's the law of physics. something as rigid as ghost could only bend so far back before it reaches the elastic limit, and then it is deformed, and then it snaps, and then it is two pieces instead of one that cannot be put back together--and he feels it. he knows this is it. the fine line between what was and what is, this is it, it's too late--shut the fuck up, johnny, it's too late, i have her, she's mine, get out of my head, get out of my fucking head, i'm going to have her, have her, have her sweet fucking cunt--

you are bliss. you are the air that allows him to breathe. you are the threads in the fabric, the water in the soil, the heat that warms the house and breaks the soul and drives the machine.

you are in his bed, on your back, and when he slides your skirt off, there it is. the soft place between your pretty thighs, glistening and so wet, puckering and pulsing as you spread your knees for him and slip your shirt off.

he doesn't remember taking his mask off. he doesn't know where it went, but it is gone, and your lips are on his, and your tits are bouncing as he grinds his cock into your soft, squishy folds. the tip catches sometimes, and it makes you cry, and you whine when he breaks the kiss to lick your tears and taste the salt of your pleasure. the tears are heady and desperate, and he knows this flavor, and he wants more of it.

he commits this to memory. when he sits up and feeds you his cock, he memorizes the way you moan. the twitch of your pussy, the leaking of your wetness, the way you clench and tighten and grip so he cannot do anything but force himself deeper inside of you.

what is it that he loves? what is it that he loves so much that he cannot look you right in the eyes? whose body did he have underneath him all that time ago that steals him away so much he cannot fuck you the way you deserve? the way you need, the way he wants?

you reach up and grip his dog tags. they jangle against his chest as he grips your hips and fucks you, and you use them to anchor yourself, tugging on the metal necklace as you focus on the way he thrusts. powerful, smooth, with ease--he's so big, but he fills you so well, and you can't help but wonder if he's losing himself because it's so familiar. to be inside. to be gripped and squeezed and milked for all that you are, the brute of a man so misunderstood that fucks like a goddamn pornstar.

he's so good at this. when he finds the gooey spot in your cunt, he knows how to get you there. hitting it just enough to bring you to the edge, and then slowing down to savor the wet mess your cunt has become, and then doing it again. he listens to the cries you make, the crescendo of moans that you sob out that come back down when he goes softer. he thinks about this, and he makes music out of you. the pretty bunny, so fucking dumb inside, but the thing he cannot be without.

when he fucks you, he sees in blue, and he knows this isn't a coincidence. the blue in your eyes, it doens't lie--he knows what this feeling is, and he prays to no one that he can fuck this feeling right out of himself.

you come so messy. you soak his thighs, creaming on his cock as you beg him to fill you, and he cages you between his arms as he fucks harder, faster, losing momentum as he nears the same glorious high. he's been so good, but this he cannot help--not the way this feels, so familiar, so easy, so freeing.

there are no thoughts when he is inside of you, and this is bliss.

he kisses you when he comes. cups both puffy cheeks of yours as he spurts hot cum inside of you, sliding his big hands down to grip your thighs as he nestles his hips against yours. you reach down with two hands and squeeze his lower back, keeping him inside. this feeling, the feeling of being so full and warm and enjoyed, it isn't natural to you, and it isn't one you feel often, and you chase after it. you lick into his mouth and whine, and he hushes you.

"easy, rabbit," he pants, licking over your jaw, and you close your eyes. if he is predator and you are prey, then so be it. you want him to have his fill--you want him to trap you, steal you away, tuck you into this den he keeps and never let you leave.

you don't mind the blood on his boots, stained on his clothes, under his fingernails. in fact, you think about it often. you think about taking a rag and cleaning the leather of his shoes. you think about teaching him the cold water and peroxide trick to getting the blood out of fabric. you think about taking the gloves off, letting his fingers wander into the warmth of your mouth so you can suck his skin clean, all while your eyes never left his.

you think about the thing that you are. the bunny you are, the prey you've manifested yourself into, and you think about the thing that he is. you think about the dark, dense places that must exist inside of his head, and you think about how you can't see them in his eyes.

you think about being the bunny in a cage and how he holds the key. and you wonder if you would even leave if he ever let you go.

ghost loves someone else. you don't know who they are or where they've gone, but he loves someone else. but that's okay. that's temporary. that's just for now. they didn't love him enough to stay.

they didn't love him enough not to die. you don't intend to die. you're going to carve him up, right along the scars that he wears, and you're going to slip inside of him and live there forever, nestled between the organs and the black of his blood and the heart you know he doesn't have.

ghost is a thing. but he's still a man.

and men are fucking weak.

[jj-one]

𝑪𝑹𝑨𝒁𝒀, 𝑺𝑻𝑼𝑷𝑰𝑫, 𝑳𝑶𝑽𝑬 🎬 ⋅˚₊ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

PT. 1 / please read part 1 before continuing, this won’t make sense as a stand alone !

The model life has never crossed your mind but the moment Jungkook laid his eyes on you he knew you were perfect. He was willing to go great lengths to get you on board, even developing a connection with you that could ultimately lead to one of you getting hurt.

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ pairing ꒱ ˒˓ modeling scout!jungkook ˒˓ model!f!reader ˒˓ strangers to enemies to lovers, jk is in his early 30's and reader is early 20's genre/tags. angst, (some) fluff, a lot of smut, cheating, mentions of past trauma, small mentions of alcohol and drug usage, mentions of y/n crying, themes of anxiety and depictions of panic attacks, oral (m & f receiving), katoptronophilia, daddy kink, public sex, you give jk road head lol, piv, unprotected sex (we should know by now that this is wrong!), left y’all with a bad cliffhanger yet again lmao i can’t help it words. 14.6k

A blank stare is met with you from your confrontation. The man who you thought you knew, was now standing over you with the most dumbfounded look.

“Wh— what do you mean, y/n?” Jungkook asks, arching his brows in confusion, you wished it was easier for you to handle this.

As much as you envisioned yourself doing so, you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to face the man in front of you. Your flight or fight instincts were starting to kick you into flight mode since you didn’t have much fight left within you. What’s the point anymore? It was only going to end in disaster anyway, as most do your attempts at finding happiness do.

“I really think you should just leave now Jungkook…” your voice trails off as you look at the ground, unable to bear him a clear answer to your sudden awkward behavior. That voicemail of his wife kept replaying in your head, you wanted to breakdown and cry, the woman sounded so sweet and was probably such a good wife to him. Though, you don’t know for certain what goes on behind the scenes, she seemed like a nice person, it just made you feel more shameful. You felt awful for possibly being a home-wrecker now, and it’s only making you want him out of your sight even more.

“But what do you mean by the truth? Talk to me y/n, I would never lie to you I-”

You cut him off instantly, snapping at him for the last line, which was obviously another blatant lie. “Please get the fuck out and just let me process this or it’s going to get really ugly!”

You didn’t mean to growl at him like that at the end, turning more hostile by the second, but you were practically at your wits end with him right now. The constant lying was just too much, you don’t even know what the truth is anymore.

“I’ll go, but can you at least just tell me what I did wrong this time? I’m so confused by you y/n, why are you always like this?” He was so clueless and unfazed of the fact that you didn’t even know his biggest secret, it made you want to scream at him more.

“Why am I like this? Why are you like this?! Do you not foster a guilty conscience at all? You should feel sick for cheating on your wife!” You couldn’t hold it in anymore, there’s no going back from this and now he’s forced to come clean.

Once finally addressing the elephant in the room the air was filled with complete, utter silence. His more collected and calm demeanor instantly shifts from before, pausing for a moment and breaks his steady eye contact with you. You knew immediately once you drop that information he wouldn’t be able to face you with such confidence.

“How…did you…even figure that out?” The look on his face was priceless as his dirty laundry has been finally aired out. His mouth wide open with shock, his body tensed up from the panic settling in, already knowing how bad this situation could ensue.

“You shouldn't leave your phone lying around, idiot.” You point to his phone that’s still on the ground, “maybe take it in the shower with you next time, you cheating liar!”

“W-wait back up, you went through my phone? That’s not cool y/n!” Jungkook’s face was beet red from embarrassment and now yours was too. You both got called out for doing bad things but his ‘bad thing’ is much more extreme and serious than yours will ever be.

“She called you like eight fucking times, I thought it could’ve been one of your clients or something!”

Jungkook kept pacing around your room still in disbelief of it all, the only word he could muster up was a simple “wow…” His silence was saying a lot right now and from the looks of it he wasn’t going to give you much further explanation. Even so, it wouldn’t be enough for you to forgive him, he’s not only hurt you but his innocent wife, that’s unforgivable in your eyes.

“I want you out of my apartment now!” Raising your voice several more octaves, you open your bedroom door to let him freely walk out but he tries one last time in attempt to plead with you.

“Please, y/n I can explain if you let me..”

“What the fuck is there to explain?” You scoff, annoyed by his efforts, “the explanation is already right there!”

“I’m going to be fully honest with you now, okay? I’ve been with my wife for 3 and a half years and it’s probably been the worst mistake of my life. My parents basically forced me into this marriage to begin with. I didn’t have much of a choice, I never loved her— I don’t even know why I ended up stayed for this long. I’m trying to get a divorce soon, i’m filing the papers next week and we’re technically already separated as I’ve told her many, many times how this isn’t going to work. At this point it’s strictly for appearances that we’re still “together” …she’s an actress so I need to make sure I don’t ruin her public image with a messy divorce or any bad scandals.” He finishes his explanation and you were now even taken more aback by everything.

How come just didn’t say any of this beforehand? It would’ve saved him a lot of trouble than just waiting for you to find out, because even the sneakiest people have to face their consequences eventually. You don’t know the whole gravity of the situation nor how much say he had in this marriage but him talking so casually about divorcing his wife wasn’t sitting right with you. You didn’t fully understand everything but one thing you knew for sure was that he’s the world’s biggest liar. From the moment you met Jungkook he has been doing nothing but lying and keeping this giant secret from you. It didn’t matter how complex it was, the fact that he couldn’t just be up front about his relationship status made you more angry, made you feel more stupid for falling for him. You were definitely not someone with the highest moral compass and you probably wouldn’t have judged him had he have been honest, maybe you’d save yourself the pain and not have slept him— but now that more feelings are involved, you feel trapped.

“You truly disgust me, that’s really all I have left to say.” Once again attempting to kick the man out of your apartment but he begs you to hear him out, holding the door in place to eventually shut it closed behind him.

“Look, I know how bad this sounds and you have every right to be angry with me y/n, but everything’s just so…complicated right now..” He reluctantly continues, “I do regret you had to find out this way, but as I said before I don’t love her anymore— if I ever did honestly. I’d just like to move on… possibly with you once everything gets finalized.”

You’re unsure to believe if Jungkook really does have genuine feelings for you or if you’re just another one of his many pawns. If he was capable of lying to you for so long then pretty much anything else was on the table.

“Jungkook, do you not realize how shitty I feel for doing all of this? This was all practically my fault, if I didn’t invite you over this would’ve never happened and I—”

“Absolutely none of this is your fault y/n? All the blame is on me, you don’t owe her any loyalty. I’m the one who made the decision at the end of the day. I’m sorry for not telling you, I just didn’t know how to bring it up…which is why I kept denying my feelings to deter you from even trying to pursue me, I really tried to keep it strictly business but you were making it so hard for me to resist.”

It all made sense to you now. Those moments he’d act like a complete jerk to you for no reason, those were the times he wanted you the most. It’s crazy to think that his plan would actually end up having the opposite effect on you, but you do tend to gravitate towards toxic behaviors because that’s all you knew for most of your life.

“Is this what you were so scared of?” You ask, finally mustering up the courage to face him once again, “I’m an understanding person, I wouldn’t have judged if you told me... I just don’t appreciate you lying to me, please promise to never do that again.”

Jungkook takes both your hands in the palms of his, slowly parting his lips to speak, “I won’t lie to you again y/n, I promise. You have my every word on that.” He solemnly swears, you really wanted to believe what he was saying but you felt indifferent. There was still a heavy, cinder block weight on your shoulders.

“Also…we kinda have a shoot in less than 5 hours and we really need to get going soon.” Jungkook changes the subject to work now, you almost completely forgot that this man was still your modeling agent and boss.

“Fuck.. I really have to do a shoot today?!” You were definitely not in the mood to see or interact with anyone. You wanted to keep talking to Jungkook about where you both stand, the more clarity you get the better, but work is starting to interfere with this now.

Simply sighing and nodding your head to his pleas for you to go through with this shoot, you grab a few things quickly to leave your apartment with him.

A raging headache was beginning to induce your brain. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to how bright these vanity lights on the mirror are. To keep you somewhat relaxed you close your eyes while the person styling your hair puts tiny strands in neat sections. Your mind kept racing and all you could think about was your earlier confrontation with Jungkook. You haven’t seen him since you got here, your phone was dead because your idiotic self forgot to charge it last night and now had no one to talk to. Everything about this situation was eating you up from the inside and it was becoming even harder to act completely normal.

When your hair was done a new stylist came in to do your makeup, they brought a huge makeup kit and started with your brows. This was your life now, sitting in a chair like an achromatic robot for hours on end getting the most tedious things done after the next. You weren’t the best at sitting still for long periods of time and this job consisted of mostly that/being on your feet all day, it was tiring but you had to remain focused.

Jungkook was now making you take classes to perfect your model walk since he wants you to partake in this fashion show for his new campaign. He wants you to be the opening for the show but you were really nervous about that idea, you don’t like all the attention drawn on you. You’ve never pictured yourself being on a stage in front of loads of people, let alone the most important fashion moguls in the industry— it was never your vision but Jungkook had other plans for you.

He would always say how someone as beautiful as you deserved to be seen on billboards, front covers of magazines, and so much more. He actually believed in you, more than anyone else did in your entire life and that’s why you continued to stay with him. He knows exactly how to make you feel adored, like you’re the only person in the whole world.

When the makeup artist was finally finished with your look, another person came in. This time however, it was your new favorite person from work to see you now. It was see your personal stylist Yeonjun who came walking through the door, meeting you with open arms to give him a big hug. You were glad to finally see one of your work friends since you didn’t have very many, you mostly talked to Yeonjun or Jungkook if you needed something. Yeonjun had bright pink hair now and it surprisingly suited him really well, you complimented his new look and he flashed you the sweetest smile.

“Thanks my dear, how’ve you been y/n?” He cheerfully asks, taking a few garments off some racks and setting them aside.

“I’ve been alright…I guess I just have a lot on my mind right now.” You admit, hoping he’d take the bait by asking you what’s wrong.

To no surprise, he follows up your response with “what’s on your mind hun?” And gives you his full undivided attention.

It wouldn’t take long for you to spill everything, you had to at least tell someone else to get an outside perspective. The tears were slowly rolling down your cheeks as you finished your story, quickly wiping them away so you don’t ruin the stylist’s hard work on your makeup, waiting for Yeonjun to react. You look up at his face and he looked in complete shock since he probably wasn’t expecting to hear this at all.

“Well this is messy as hell, I mean— you haven’t even been a model for 2 weeks and you’re already sleeping with your boss? No wonder he doesn’t let anyone around you!” He playfully jokes, “but in all seriousness, this is kind of insane. I personally wouldn’t know what to do if I was in your position…”

You appreciated his honesty. You know your situation wasn’t quite easy and the more entangled you got, the more messy it becomes. You have your own selfish reasons for wanting to stay with Jungkook too. You wanted to see how far this modeling career could actually take you, thinking about your life before and after you met Jungkook. Before him, you were working at a convenience store, living off below minimum wage, and close to getting evicted with no place to go but after you met him all of those things seemingly went away in an instant. The only downside of this situation was that the man you were slowly falling in love with was married and had a family. That’s the part you can’t ignore and it crushed you deep inside, but the outweighing factors were starting to make you want to turn a blind eye.

“We can talk more about this later y/n, but we really have to get you in these clothes so that you make it in time on set, plus I’m not trying to get yelled at.” Yeonjun politely expressed, he knows how much you’re not feeling up to all this but his motivating attitude helps you get through it.

You huff, “okay, fine.”

The dress you were wearing was a size way too small for you, it was digging so deep into your rib cage you felt like you were going to faint at any moment. The dress was insanely beautiful but it made you barely even able to sit down properly. The mini dress you had on was a dark red, velvet material, it was striped with floral accents, ruffles lined the hem and the sleeves were puffy with lettuce trim. You wore black see-through stockings with knee high 5-inch stiletto boots and the pain shooting from the back of your feet was excruciating. Though the outfit was absolutely stunning you were beyond uncomfortable, you had no idea how you were going to walk in this on set.

“Yeonjun this dress is cutting off my circulation…” you tell him while standing awkwardly, wanting to get this dress off of you immediately.

“It’s just for a photoshoot y/n, it may not be the most comfortable but it’ll only last for 20 minutes I believe in you!” He gives you a mini pep talk to help you through your discomfort and it slightly puts you at ease to fake it until you make it.

You know that this was the price of becoming a model and sometimes pain is the cost of beauty, you just have to suck it up for now and get it over with. Trying to walk in a straight line was a task in itself since the back of your heels kept jabbing into your skin, you know you’re going to get a crazy blister after this. Yeonjun holds your hand to help you balance yourself and you felt more embarrassed that he had to help keep you from falling.

“This is not what I signed up for when I thought I’d be doing this…” you say while walking carefully to the other studio.

“I’m sure none of us do love,” Yeonjun’s face scrunched as he chuckles, making your way over to the set where everyone else was now.

The set was full of people, everyone had a designated job to do something. All the models were lined up at the front waiting for their turn for photos to be taken while multiple photographers took shots of others models in the center. There were more models in the corner getting touch ups, staff handing out water bottles and refreshments, directors giving instructions, the whole thing was an orderly chaos. Once you got to the front, you were told by a director to stand in the line next to all the other models and wait for your photos to be taken. You sigh heavily as you head up to all the women who were now all looking at you.

Some of them didn’t look very friendly, you felt as though you were being silently judged. You were the new girl and no one even knew who you were. Your thoughts went racing again as before, you were feeling like you didn’t deserve to be here. These women looked way more qualified to do this job than you, you were so amazed at how gorgeous everyone looked. You know you’ll have to get used to it eventually since you’ll practically be around beautiful people your entire career.

You hear a familiar voice on the set and you finally see Jungkook since the morning you had both left.

“I thought we agreed that we were going to get the bigger piano for this shoot? Why am I still seeing the same ones from before?!”

“Sorry boss, but you told us that it was too out of budget so we-”

“For fucks sake, I don’t give a shit about the budget anymore, this looks cheap and tacky, we can’t have this. Call the call guy up to bring the bigger one, NOW!” He continues his tirade, “also, why is y/n in the back? I told you as soon as she arrives she needs to be placed first!” He comes up to you and puts his hands on your shoulders, you tensed up immediately from his minor touch.

No one else in here besides the two of you know what happened last night and the awkwardness of it all is killing you inside. He was acting as if everything was completely normal and it kind of infuriated you. Jungkook places you to the front of the line and all the other models watch as he took your hand in his. You could just feel the eyes being glued on you, if looks could kill you’d be in a coffin, six feet under by now. Some of the other models sneered at you while you simply walked to the front to wait for your photos to be taken.

When it was now your time to go Jungkook politely asks you to come sit on a chair. You try your best to sit as comfortably as you can in this tight dress but you feel even more suffocated from sitting down. All you could do in this moment was simply hope for the best.

“Sit with your legs crossed y/n,” Jungkook positions you to do a pose for the photographer and you comply. You cross your legs and do a natural pose with your arms, the photographer snaps a photo immediately. The constant flash of the camera lights were giving you another headache, this job is so exhausting. Jungkook spoke to you in such a soft tone when instructing you to pose, he’s usually a very stern and sometimes vindictive boss with most people, but with you he’s the most gentle person. He almost babies you in a way, he treats you differently because he knows how fragile you are. It felt much longer than 20 minutes like Yeonjun said, but once you were done you got up instantly to feel like you can somewhat breathe again. All you can think about is getting out of these uncomfortable but beautiful clothes.

“You did such a great job as always y/n, so perfect. Thank you!” The photographer compliments you once he’s done.

“Isn’t she just amazing?” Jungkook chimes in, “I can’t believe I discovered her, such a rare gem in today’s society.” He looked at you with such pride, he took pride in all of his achievements but this one meant more to him. You were flustered by Jungkook’s comment in front of the photographer, if only he knew why he thought you were so amazing. Jungkook hands you a water bottle and you take it from his hands thanking him politely. A part of you was still angry with him but you knew it wasn’t worth being petty over right now. You didn’t want to throw off the vibe in front of all these people so it was best to pretend as if there’s nothing going on between you two. You were about to leave so you can head back to your dressing room and take these clothes off but Jungkook slips a piece of paper in your hand behind your back. He mumbled something under his breath but you couldn’t understand it, looking at the crumbled note with messy handwriting in black ink:

‘Meet me upstairs in the dressing rooms in 5’

You look up and Jungkook was already gone. You were now left alone in a room full of people, you know why he wants you there but the fact he did this so blatantly was beyond you. Making sure no one was suspicious of you, you make your way up the stairs to go to the dressing rooms. It didn’t take long for you to reach your destination, Jungkook was already waiting for you inside. You slam the door behind you and now standing in front of him again but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him this time. The tension between you two felt different now that you were alone again, all professionalism out the door.

“I know what you brought me here for but we still need to talk and-”

Jungkook cuts you off, “what else is there to talk about y/n? I’ve already told you everything. I don’t know what more you want from me, I brought you up here to make up for my behavior.”

“I don’t want to fuck you this dressing room right no-”

He cuts you off once again, “who said anything about fucking? Baby you have no idea. Come sit, just relax for me sweetie.”

He motions for you to sit down and you reluctantly do so. The tightness of the dress was becoming worse once you sat down again, you groaned from the life being sucked out of you.

“I just want these damn clothes off of me already, can you please help me?” You ask, in dire need to breathe properly again.

Jungkook nods, coming up behind you to unzip the dress and you feel instant relief from finally being out of it. You sigh as you feel your body coming back to normal, the dress was now fully unzipped, feeling a rush of cool air from the fan coming in contact with your bare skin. You slide the dress off including your stockings and kick off those uncomfortable heels you were wearing. You were now sitting in the chair with nothing other than your tiny g-string, that small excuse of fabric was barely covering your lower region. You wanted to blush from embarrassment but Jungkook was staring at you hungrily, as if he wants to devour your existence. You cover your chest with your hands but Jungkook chuckles at that.

“Don’t be shy with me now babe, acting like I’ve never seen you naked before, give me a fucking break y/n.”

He traces his fingertips down your shoulders, lightly drawing circles along your delicate skin. His warm breath tingled against you as he got closer, the tension in the air was so thick, you could cut it with a steak knife.

“I’ve watched you touch yourself in front of me, you can be such a good girl for me when you want to be.” He whispers in your ear softly.

You tremble from his words, consumed by his touch, and all the filthy things he says to you makes your mind go blank within seconds. He drags his fingers down to your stomach, tracing more invisible lines on your body. The fact he was still fully clothed and you were the one under him, fully exposed, ready for him to do whatever he wanted made you even more nervous. You never know what this man’s intentions are with you.

“Will you be a good girl for me right now while I go down on you? You have to stay as quiet as possible for me or else there will be consequences princess.”

You don’t know what those consequences will be, but you simply nod your head. You turn into the perfect submissive when you’re alone with Jungkook, you do any and everything he says with no hesitation. You like to think you would never fall to a man’s beck and call but for Jungkook, you’d risk it all. His light touches kept going as he brought a hand to your inner thigh, kneading at your flesh. His hands played with the thin string of your thong, he takes the front of it and pulls at the fabric then flings it back like a slingshot. You squeal from the contact on your cunt, making you flinch a little. He does it a few more times, flinging it back and toying with you. The evil smirk on his face said it all, he was playing a little game with you. The string of the thong was now jammed in between your pussy lips, the sight of it made Jungkook smack his lips together. He wanted you so bad but teasing you was way more fun.

“You have such a pretty cunt babygirl,” he expresses in a sultry tone, “I’m going to take all the time I need with you, princess.”

He plays some more with the g-string and you close your eyes from the sensation, opening your legs wider for him to get a better view.

“No, keep your eyes open and look into the mirror behind me, you take your eyes off of it once and I’ll make sure to punish you so bad you won’t be able to walk again.”

You open your eyes instantly, looking over at the mirror in front of you and seeing Jungkook on his knees being eye level with your dripping cunt.

“Will you promise to be a good girl for daddy?” He asks sternly.

“Yes, I promise daddy I will!”

“Then say it.”

“I’ll be a good girl for daddy, I promise I’ll be good!” You plead with him.

He gives you a little smirk and his eyes were dark like they were last night. The only thing on his mind right now was ruining you completely.

He brings his face closer to your heat, his lips were close to it you could feel his breath sweep against you. He slides the sad excuse of fabric to the side and draws a single digit into your wetness. A small moan comes out of you and he looks up with a glaring eye, making you cover your mouth so you can stop yourself from going further.

“Be quiet…” he says, bringing another finger to his lips for you to stay silent.

He continues dragging his finger up and down your slit, rubbing your slick all over to create even more a mess. He couldn’t stop looking at the way your cunt was glistening and as much as he wanted to keep teasing you, he also wanted to dive his face in. He brings his tongue to your slit, starting with small kitten licks, your body trembles just by the slightest amount of stimulation. He drags his tongue slowly, coming in contact with your clit and lightly sucks on it. You keep your eyes on the mirror like Jungkook instructed you to, the pornographic sight was enough to make you want to cum. You had your legs spread out wide for him, holding your thighs to keep them in place as he eats you out.

The feeling of his tongue gliding against your clit left you with a million tingles down your spine. He nestles his face deeper into your cunt and his nose brushed up against your sensitive bundle of nerves, drenching his whole face with your wetness. The task of keeping quiet was only growing to become more difficult as his pace grew quicker. Jungkook’s mouth felt like heaven and the reflection of him on his knees for you was making you go insanely feral. He licks a long stripe against your cunt in the slowest motion, his eyes looking at you the entirety of it which only made you want to moan out for him. You bite your lip down heavily enough to draw a tiny amount of blood, really trying your best to be good for him as possible.

“You’re being such a good girl for me baby,” Jungkook praises while still looking up at you, “I knew you could do it, you’re a smart girl.” He continues his assault on your clit and his tongue flicks against it faster. You want to moan out his name but you don’t want know what the consequences will be, plus you don’t want anyone to know that you’re getting it on with the man who’s supposed to be in charge of you. You’re stuck in a daze from all the pleasure he was giving you, tangling your fingers in his long fluffy hair to feel more of him. His face was now completely buried inside you, you weren’t sure if he was even breathing properly but you didn’t hear any complaining from his end.

He laps up all your wetness with his mouth as he works his tongue deep into your cunt, you almost cry out from the feeling in your core. You seal your lips tighter in order not to make a sound, your heavy breathing was the only audible noise coming from you— besides the sounds of your juices being mixed with Jungkook’s tongue of course. You kept tugging on his hair making it messier as you continue watching him through the mirror. His tongue going back to your clit to abuse it some more, you could feel your high approaching any minute now. Your body jerks from the over stimulation and you want to scream but you end up pulling strands of his hair harder.

“You gonna cum for me princess?” He takes a moment to catch some air, “I want you to cum for daddy, can you do that for me?”

You simply nod your head, focusing on your climax and almost shut your eyes, but you remember you have to keep them open. You really do your best to try and look at him but it was all too much for you, you wanted to pass away and let the pleasure wash over you like a typhoon. He circles your clit with his tongue one more time as you cover your mouth again to stop you from moaning out load. You can feel your release coming as you chase your high, your eyes were still open surprisingly as you watched Jungkook keep himself between your legs. Your legs violently shake as you cum, the creamy substance now dripping out beautifully against his tongue. He licks your slate clean as all your cum is gone and he licks up the rest of your essence on your thighs.

“Such a good girl for me.” Jungkook says, now smiling with pride after he’s made you cum. He gets up from being on the floor and his face was completely wet, he glanced over at the mirror and noticed immediately. He licked his lips and chuckled at his appearance, his hair was a complete, disheveled mess and the neckline of his shirt was lined with sweat. You giggle from the effect you had on him, he was the one putting in all the work yet came out looking completely ruined too.

“Let’s get you in some different clothes and head back before people start noticing I disappeared, I’m sure everyone is wondering where I ran off to,” Jungkook takes a random blouse and skirt off of a rack and hands it to you, “just wear this then meet me back on set, you know we have that rehearsal later as well so I’ll call you and pick you up at 8.”

You nod your head and take the clothes from him, you had a fully packed schedule this whole week and you didn’t realize how busy your life was going to become. You used to have more free time to go out and hang with friends but ever since you got this modeling gig you barely talked to any of them. Your phone was still dead and you have no idea if anyone’s been trying to communicate with you. You aren’t the type to change your whole personality because of a new guy in your life but Jungkook was showing you a different side of the world, a part of the world you knew absolutely nothing about. All you could do was continue to have a levelheaded mindset and hope that it won’t eventually change you into something you aren’t.

It felt lonely coming back to your apartment without Jungkook. He had to finish up some work at the studio so he couldn’t drive you home, he had one of his staff chauffeur you back. You had your own car but Jungkook didn’t want you driving unless you really had to, he didn’t like having you do more work than you already do. You called your landlord to confirm if you were still going to be evicted and he told you no, that someone named Mr. Jeon called him and told him that he would be your guarantor and all your bills can go directly to him. Your jaw almost hit the floor once he said that, you really couldn’t believe your biggest problem you’ve been dealing with has been resolved in such an instant. You were baffled at his behavior yet grateful since now you didn’t really have anything to worry about. Well, besides the fact that you’re now Jungkook’s mistress and he’s pretty much helping you build your entire career. You would usually never accept handouts from people, let alone help you pay your own rent, this was a new side of you only he could bring out. You had no idea you were capable of doing anything like this.

You rest your head in your hands as you sit on your bed to think about all the events leading up to your life right now. One tiny interaction was all it took to completely change your life and you’re not even sure if it’s for the better. Your phone was finally turned back on from being dead all day and you check your missed notifications. You got a call from your best friend Sakura and she texted you asking if you were okay, you haven’t talked to her since the day you went off on her about her taking “accountability” speech.

You decide to call her back since you really wanted to update her on everything and get her opinion. You call her but it immediately goes straight to voicemail so you call it again but the same thing happens. You get confused by this so you send her a message to tell her to answer her phone however the message becomes green instead of blue once you press send. Your heart sinks into the pit of your stomach now, you know that this could only mean one thing. Your own best friend blocked your number. You felt so betrayed right now, the person who was supposed to stick by your side through everything decides to cut you off and not even give you a chance at closure. You felt sick and you didn’t even know what to do. The only thing you could think of was to start bursting into tears. You couldn’t believe she would do something like this to you, after all you’ve been through together it just felt like a slap in the face.

Your tears kept coming and you couldn’t stop rocking yourself to calm you down. You felt entire your whole body shake as your breathing slowly become irregular. You were a sobbing mess and now you were feeling like a panic attack was about to arise. You couldn’t contain all your emotions, everything coming at you all at once made you feel so small and anxious. You felt utterly helpless, alone, so trapped, you could feel your airways closing from the tightness, only wheezing and coughing in response.

Your phone vibrated as a call notification pops up, it was Jungkook. You don’t answer it because you were in the middle of a full blown panic attack and you couldn’t mutter a single word at this moment. You were growing dizzy and kept gasping for air, it truly felt as though you were dying right now. You try to get up from your bed but your body grew weak, your limbs felt fluid as you tried to move. Your phone kept buzzing but the sounds were starting to feel like it was coming from underwater. Everything around you was a blur and you remember nothing else besides your eyes slowly falling shut.

You woke up laying on the floor of your room next to your bed, your head was pounding as if you had just drank too much alcohol. You get up to look around and everything was the same, nothing was thrown around or out of place. Now getting up and recovering from your panic attack, you breathe deeply and exhale to calm your anxious nerves. Your phone was still on the bed and you realize you’ve been on the floor for about half an hour. Jungkook called you about 4 times, he also texted you asking you what you were doing. It was almost 7 o’clock and you didn’t have much time to get ready for this rehearsal tonight. You call Jungkook back and he answers immediately,

“Y/n! Where have you been?” He says, sounding pretty concerned.

“I- I’m sorry I just wasn’t feeling too well…” you refrain from going any further in order not to worry him.

“Is something wrong? Did something happen y/n? I’ll be over there soon and we can talk about it if you wan-”

“No, it’s okay Jungkook, I actually don’t want to talk about it. Just pick me up at the normal time.”

“Okay, if that’s what you want. I’ll pick you up later then I guess…”

You hang up and let out a sigh, you didn’t even want to tell him about your situation with Sakura, it was unnecessary drama for him anyway. You have to get into work mode so you try to forget about it and take a shower. You felt like an empty shell of a person, just numb to everything and although you are incredibly hurt, you have to shield that from the rest of the world.

A black Porsche waits for you in your driveway. Jungkook comes out of the car and opens the door for you to get in the passenger side. You did your best to try and act normal, you really didn’t want him to notice anything off with you.

“You okay babe?” He asks anyway, you know he always does this to make sure you really are okay. He thought maybe it was just the stress of it all getting to you but you had another problem to deal with.

“Yes Kook, I’m fine can we just drive?” You tell him, wanting nothing but this conversation to be over with.

“I’m just making sure you’re alright, no need to bite my head off all the time y/n.” He retorts, he has good intentions behind him asking but you always find it slightly annoying when he does. Maybe because you never really had someone constantly ask if you were okay, it was usually the opposite, no one ever cared how you felt. Just like how your own “best friend” decides to block you and shut you out her life without taking your feelings into consideration. It hurt you so bad. All those emotions came flooding through you again and you felt your lips tremble. You try and snap out of your moment so you don’t cry in front Jungkook like you always do, you have to remain strong this time. You thought of anything to distract you but nothing seemed to be working, then one of the most unthinkable decisions came to your mind.

“Jungkook, do you have any cigarettes on you?” You ask him quietly, for some reason all you could think of to relieve your stress was smoking.

He looked at you as if you were confessing to a murder, never did he think those words would come out of your mouth.

“Um… yeah but I thought you said those were cancer sticks and I’m cutting my life by a year each time I smoke?”

“I mean yeah that is true, but I’m really stressed right now I just want to try one.”

“That’s what I said when I was 14 and look at me now,” he says ironically, “I don’t want to be the reason for you getting hooked on these.”

“I’m not going to become an addict! Just let me try one dammit!” You were growing frustrated with his attempts in getting you to stop but once you make your mind about something you’ll want to do it in the end.

“What’s gotten into you lately y/n? Is this is my fault? I’ll try harder to be a better influence for you if I can.”

You roll your eyes, “I don’t need you to influence me to do anything, this has nothing to do with you. I just want to relieve some stress!”

“There are so many other ways you can relieve stress than slowly killing yourself y/n…”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know… you could have sex?” He proposes, “with me of course.”

“How can we have sex right now if you’re driving? Dumbass.”

“Hey, don’t call me that! I was just giving a suggestion…plus you know there’s other things you can do besides penetration.”

You giggle at his usage of the word “penetration”, you were so immature that it made him laugh too.

“So you want me to give you road head?” You say to him innocently, you like to see him get all worked up from you acting cute.

“I mean, if you want… yeah. Have you ever done something like this before?”

“Yeah kinda, the car wasn’t moving though!” You now turn your body completely to face him in the driver’s seat. You smile up at him with seductive eyes, watching as he sneaks glances at you while he drives, making your way closer to him. You lean over and stare at his stiff erection through his pants, rubbing your hand over it as you palm him in your grasp. He winces a bit at that and you can tell just by any touch you give him his whole body feels like it’s set on fire. You weren’t a big teaser unlike Jungkook, so you waste no time in unbuckling his belt and unzipping his jeans to free his cock from the confines of his boxers. You look at the beautiful man’s pretty pink dick standing tall in front of you, licking your lips at the sight. His veiny cock was throbbing in your tiny hand, tip already leaking out with delicious precum. You slowly press your mouth against the tip, keeping it there for a bit to get a little taste of him. You then swirl your tongue lightly around it, loving the salty tanginess of his precum against your tongue.

“Fuck princess… you feel so good around me already,” he bit his lip harshly, gripping the steering wheel even harder.

You wrap your mouth tighter around his length as you begin to slide your head down. Bobbing it back and forth and keeping a tight suction on his cock, making sure not to use any teeth. You feel Jungkook’s hips jolt up from the sensation as you draw more saliva from your mouth, making it as messy as possible. He let out a loud groan when his dick hit the back of your throat, you didn’t choke or gag once which surprised him. You don’t have a gag reflex which is ultimately perfect for giving head, you’re not really sure how you got so blessed with this talent. You take all of him completely in your mouth, swallowing him whole as you keep bobbing your head. The way he filled you up felt so good, nothing could compare to having Jungkook’s cock in your mouth.

“That’s my good girl, keep going— just like that baby— ahh….” He keeps encouraging you, giving you small praises here and there. He does his best to keep his eyes on the road but the way you’re sucking him is taking him to different universe. Your free hand rested on his right thigh as you continued throwing your head back, stroking his cock with your pretty, talented mouth. He elicits more moans and it only makes you want to make him cum faster.

Jungkook bit his lip even harder, trying so hard not to crash this vehicle, he breathes in and out the best way he can. He could feel himself cumming soon and his whole body tenses up like he’s got a volcano erupting inside him.

“I think I’m gonna cum… damn baby…”

You couldn’t say anything since his cock was buried 7 inches deep down your throat. The only thing on your mind right now was getting him to cum inside your mouth. You hum as you pick up your pace, deepthroating him aggressively. There was so much saliva everywhere, your face was flushed and you seriously looked such a mess. A beautiful mess, just for Jungkook. You feel his hard length throb against in your mouth and a warm sensation hits the back of your throat. White ropes of his cum releases into you and you swallow it immediately, you look up at him as you take all his cum. His cum tastes so good, you were so sad when he emptied all of it. You pull away and kiss the tip of his cock before you go up to his face and give him a quick kiss on the lips. He flashes a soft smile at you and you gave a warm smile back. He quickly zips his pants back up with one hand and you help fix his belt for him.

“See, wasn’t that much better than smoking a cigarette?” He says proudly, you hate to admit he was right but at least he prevented you from doing irreversible damage to your body.

“I guess..” you shrug nonchalantly, “it was alright.”

“Well that blowjob you gave me was more than just an alright,” he happily boasts. You probably made his whole year with what you did.

“Does your wife suck your dick as good as I do?” You tease him, you don’t even know why you would say that but the look on his face turned sour.

“Why are you even bringing her up? This doesn’t have jackshit to do with her,” he says almost annoyed, “but yes, you do. Just don’t bring her up again please.”

You struck a nerve with that one, you wanted to keep egging him on but now probably isn’t a good time. You simply let it go and sit back in your seat quietly. You know why he gets so defensive about the subject but it just baffles you how he does it yet doesn’t bat at eye about cheating on her. It makes you feel so guilty you keep doing this but Jungkook really does make you happy, it’s a double edged sword.

“I’m sorry if I upset you y/n” he says, “I just really prefer not to talk about her, especially when I’m with you. I pretty much forget she exists when we’re together.”

You smiled but you still felt broken on the inside, you feel so bad for Soyeon, his wife doesn’t deserve any of this at all, no matter the circumstances. However, you don’t know her personally so it is true that you didn’t owe her any loyalty, it was just a principle/morality thing. You were thinking about how crushed she will probably be once she finds out Jungkook is divorcing her, if she ever found you were in the picture all hell could break loose.

“Will she ever find out?” You couldn’t help but ask, you don’t know how long he’d able to keep this secret from her for.

“No, I’d like to keep it that way. I don’t care if you told your friends about me, knowing you they already know by now. But if it gets out, I’ll be so angry with you y/n, I seriously wouldn’t know what to do.”

You were silent, you know he was dead serious when he said that. You didn’t get the chance to tell anyone besides Yeonjun and he’s not the type to go around telling everyone your business. You had nothing to worry about yet his words still cut deep.

“I didn’t tell anyone Jungkook…” you fidget with your hands and look out the window, you feel like you’ve been in this car for ages.

“When are we finally getting to the rehearsal oh my god, feels like I’ve been in this damn car forever!” You complain to him like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Calm down, we’ll be there in like 2 minutes. It’s kinda far from where we live,” he turns up a corner and drives into a large parking lot with lots of other cars parked there. He stops the car and gets out to open the door for you, you step out the car and he holds your hand in his. You were a little confused since Jungkook doesn’t like to show PDA in public but you go with it anyway.

You head into the historic looking building, as soon as you stepped in you felt claustrophobic. There were people everywhere. Hundreds of models scattered the venue, everyone all dolled up or being in the process of it. The speakers blared loud, catchy pop music as you made your way through the crowds of people. Jungkook was still holding onto you to make sure you wouldn’t get lost, you held onto him tightly since you were feeling anxious.

People kept coming up to him and greeting him, he was still holding your hand the entire time, you were receiving vicious looks from some of the models. You felt all eyes on you and you weren’t even dressed up, you had the most normal clothes on, nothing fancy. You felt like such a peasant around everyone but you soon won’t be once you get dressed up. Jungkook takes you to a private area where there was no one else around. He tells you to stay put while he goes to get one of the staff to do your makeup and hair for the rehearsal.

“I’ll be in the conference room, it’s the door on the right next to that bathroom down the hall. If you need me just knock or text me and I’ll come to you. See you in an hour doll,” he gives you a chaste kiss before leaving out.

You were now left alone, waiting for someone else to come in. You hear some light laughter from outside the door, overhearing some girls talking to each other.

“You noticed that new girl? I don’t even know her name she’s so irrelevant, but have you seen the way she acts? So snobby.” One of the girls spoke.

“Oh I think I know who you’re talking about, the one who follows around Jungkook like a lost puppy all the time?” Another girl chimes in.

“Yeah her. She seems likes such an entitled bitch, you would think she’s fucking him by the way she’s attached to that man like a magnet!”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they actually are. Some girls have no shame and will do anything to get to the top.”

“I know right? And doesn’t he have a wife too? That would be so disgusting of her.”

You couldn’t listen anymore, you knew they were talking exactly about you. Your biggest fear came into fruition now, everyone thinks you slept your way to the top and it doesn’t help that Jungkook treats you with blatant favoritism. It’s only a matter of time before people start talking and rumors about you sleeping together will spread like wildfire. This industry thrives on gossip, it won’t take long for something like to start getting around. You worry even more about the outcome but before you could think of anything else, the makeup and hairstylist comes in to do their job. You sigh as you weren’t sure what to do now, you don’t want to text Jungkook and tell him the other models are talking shit about you incase he asks who. You have no idea who even said it since you only heard their voices, it could be literally anyone.

Sitting back in the chair, the makeup artist was applying glittery eyeshadow while the hairstylist blows out your hair. You try and relax while everything gets done but you couldn’t stop fidgeting.

“Can you stop twitching your eye like that?” The makeup artist asks you politely, you felt so bad that you couldn’t conceal your movement. You tried hard to sit still and keep a straight face but it was much harder than it looked.

Once you were finally done and the makeup and hair stylists were satisfied with the look, you study yourself in the mirror to assess your new appearance. Your hair was super big and poofy, almost like the hairstyles from the 80’s, your lips were accented with red lipstick and you felt like a movie star in this get up. You looked so different yet it suited you well, you looked like the most gorgeous version of yourself you could be. You thanked them for making you look so beautiful and you couldn’t stop touching hair but the hair stylist told you not to.

“Yeonjun will be there with your change of clothes soon, thanks for your time!” The makeup artist says to you as they both walk out.

A pink haired man appears in the room and you can see Yeonjun’s whole demeanor shift from earlier. He looked either exhausted, annoyed, or both. You wonder what’s on his mind so you ask him how he’s feeling. He lets out a deep sigh and regains his composure, “sorry if I seem a little off today, I got in a tiny argument with my boyfriend and just— ugh he’s really pissing me off right now!”

You giggle at his attitude, he doesn’t talk about his outside life with you much and you know he has a boyfriend but everything seemed fine whenever he would talk about him.

“Do you want to talk about it? If not, it’s totally okay I understand. Men are just the worst in general,” you say in support for your friend.

“It’s just he’s always complaining about me being busy with work and I try to make time for him when I can! It just seems like it’s never enough for him…”

You sympathize with him as you remember the many times you had with your exes when they’d get mad at you for not spending enough time with them. You know the feeling but you do your best not to talk about yourself and just focus on consoling your friend.

“I totally get it. I can see where you’re coming from and I can also see his side as well. Maybe he just gets jealous easily? I mean you do work with attractive people all day, maybe if you reassure him that you only care about him and your work life shouldn’t interfere with your relationship.”

You couldn’t believe you gave such sound advice to someone. You articulated yourself well and got straight to the point, you mentally give yourself a pat on the back.

“Thanks y/n, I realize that I probably don’t tell him enough everyday that I love him, I just assume he already knows that but I guess it’s nice to say y’know?”

You nod in agreement. You were glad that you could help Yeonjun feel better and his mood became more upbeat. You felt good that he was comfortable enough to be vulnerable with you and it only made your friendship stronger. Maybe Yeonjun will be your new best friend, forget Sakura.

“I know you weren’t comfortable with the last outfit so I brought a different dress this time,” he says, bringing the dress over to you and you were in awe of what was in front of you. You couldn’t believe you were about to wear something this stunning, the dress reached all the way to the floor, it looked like something straight off someone from the Met Gala.

The gown was structured beautifully, it was a royal purple color with lots of layers to it. The top was a bustier bodice with a deep v-neckline, the waist was corset-like, it had tulle mesh bell sleeves with 3D butterfly accents all over and the bottom had a puffy ballgown style with more tulle underneath.

Once you got in the dress you felt like a real princess in her castle. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to how amazing you always look when you’re in model mode. The corset cinched your waist in so perfectly, giving you the sexiest hourglass figure. Everything about you just became one hundred times better, you couldn’t get enough of how insanely hot you looked.

“I look so damn good, wow! I can’t even recognize myself.” You say to Yeonjun, not taking your eyes off your pretty reflection.

“You always look great y/n, but I must admit you become spicier when you’re all dressed up!” He says, giving you the much needed compliments you deserve.

You now had to go back out into the real world, back where all the other models that despised you will be. You take a deep breath as you open the door to make your way back out and it was still complete chaos. You don’t see Jungkook anywhere and Yeonjun told you to go to the room where the rehearsal will be held. You hope to God that Jungkook will be there since you have no idea what you’re doing.

You had to get through so many people just to make it across the other side, you kept feeling all the stares on you and you couldn’t stop thinking about what those girls were saying about you earlier. It really upset you that people had already prejudged you for simply existing, they knew nothing about you yet already thought you were a bitch. It’s not a good feeling to know that others around you don’t like you but to hear it yourself was one thing.

You eventually make it to the rehearsal room and you were met with one of the backstage managers to instruct you where to go. You go behind the curtain and head backstage to where all the other models were, again the room was chaotic yet in a functional way. A stylist comes up to you to check over your look and fine tune some things about your hair and makeup. You still didn’t see Jungkook anywhere and it was starting to worry you.

You decide to text him and ask him where he was, he texts you a few seconds later and tells you he’s in the bathroom but he’s at the rehearsal. You feel your whole body relax when you read that, at least he will be here with you any minute now.

You feel a hand sneak up behind you to tap your shoulder, you turn around instantly and you’re met face to face with Jungkook.

“There you are!” You say to him happily, he was the only person you needed to see right now.

“Hey gorgeous,” he says with a huge grin on his face, “whoever did your look I need to give them a raise because wow you are smoking hot!”

You blush at him flirting with you, unsure of how to react since he was saying this in front of so many people. The fact he just casually flirts with you in front the models makes you feel even more self conscious about what was said about you earlier.

“Thanks Kook..” you say shyly, trying not make it so obvious that you’re practically in love with this man.

Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes off you though and it was only making your body temperature rise to boiling levels. If there weren’t so many people here you would’ve been making out with him by now.

You were trying to play it cool as one of the models came up to Jungkook.

“Hey Jungkook, I was wondering if you were free after this? I could really use a massage, I’ve been working so hard latelyy,” the blonde woman confidently waltzed in between, you were in utter disbelief by the way she just asked that so casually. You know she has no idea who you are but it still felt like a huge slap in the face. Jungkook wasn’t really paying attention to her and was still looking over at you, he chuckled at her advance but before he could even get a word out you spoke for him.

“Actually he’s busy tonight!” You bark at her in a harsh tone, you know you shouldn’t have butted in the conversation but you couldn’t help being protective over him. He was yours.

“I don’t think I was talking to you was I?” The girl snarks back at you, “I said Jungkook, not whatever the hell your name is.”

“Her name is y/n. Also thanks for the offer Somi but I think I’ll pass.” Jungkook says, shutting her down completely.

“Oh, well then let me know if you change your mind!” Somi tries in attempt to safe herself from the embarrassment.

“I won’t.” Jungkook mutters under his breath. You feel like Somi heard it by the way she did a double take and glared at him with evil eyes. You couldn’t help but laugh at the whole ordeal, it was sad how some of these girls threw themselves at any chance to be with Jungkook. You didn’t have to do any of this to even get him to pay attention to you, he was the one that chased after you the whole time. It made you feel special that you had that effect on him, it was like once he saw you he had tunnel vision.

“Are we good to go boss?” One of the directors asks Jungkook before the rehearsal starts and he nods his head. The director whistles loudly to get everyone’s attention as they stop what they were doing to listen. He instructs all the models to line up and get into single file, you were the first in line since you were the opening of the show and it made you even more nervous. You knew this had to be absolutely perfect for Jungkook, you couldn’t make any minor mistakes or else you’ll disappoint him. You couldn’t let him down so you took a deep breath as you wait for the director to queue the music. Once the music turns on and you go into work mode and relax yourself. You think about all the things you learned in your modeling courses so far and how they taught you to exude confidence as you walk. You make your way down the aisle and place your hands on your hips like the director instructed you to do so.

Keeping your posture as straight as possible, you take long strides down the stage with your feet balanced in a straight line. Your facial expression was natural yet you kept a strong gaze, you wanted your eyes to do all the talking. You let everything flow naturally as you kept walking, reaching the end of the stage you stop then make a pivot to the right and give a slight pose. You turn around and do the same thing you did as before, taking long strides and keeping the energy up. You walk back to the curtains and you felt so accomplished with what you just did. It was if the whole world meant nothing to you in that moment, the lights didn’t give you a headache, the people in the crowd didn’t bother you, you felt immensely proud of yourself. The stilettos you were wearing were so tall and had the thinnest heel but you got through it anyway, it amazed you how far you’ve come already.

You watch as another model steps on stage now, you’re actually glad that you were the first one since now everything was done and over with. You’d have more time to feel anxious about it and become more stressed out if you waited in the line longer. Jungkook finds you and comes up to you clapping his hands in amusement from what he saw from you, his smile was everything you needed to know that he was immensely proud of you.

“Such an amazing job out there y/n, you killed it. You’re such a natural born talent, I swear you’re going to change my life!” He says out loud, he always praised you as if you were God’s greatest gift to earth and it made you melt each and every time.

“Thank you so much Jungkook,” you say to him while going in for a hug and he hugs you back instantly. He goes one step further to even pick you up and twirl you around like a little doll, he put you down and you couldn’t stop giggling. Everyone in the room was looking at two, it was so obvious that the other models were jealous they didn’t even try to hide it. One of the girls muttered “get a room” as they walked by and you heard it. You were now blushing from embarrassment and Jungkook looks around too to make everyone stop staring at you.

He whispers something in your ear “don’t worry about these girls, they’re harmless. If they even try to start shit with you I’ll handle it.”

You nod and just watch as Jungkook leaves you again to go check on the rehearsal.

As the rehearsal comes to an end, everything starts to wind down. Jungkook was talking a bunch of staff and other people while you waited patiently for him to finish so you could go home. You were now out of the fancy designer clothes but you still felt pretty with your hair and makeup. Jungkook couldn’t stop sneaking glances at you from time to time while talking to them, he just loved looking at you. You were the most precious little angel to him and he wanted to protect you with everything he had.

When he finishes talking he heads over to you finally. You were so ready to go home and you felt completely exhausted by the whole day.

“Is it time to go now Kook?” You ask impatiently, you couldn’t wait to get your much needed rest.

“Actually y/n, there’s an after party that I have to attend. I was hoping you’d come along since I could really use the company,” he says, gently rubbing the palms of your hands with his fingers.

“Do you really have to go to it? I’m usually all for a night out but I just been doing stuff all day and I’m so tired! Please, just stay in this once?” You plead as you make a cute pout with your lips, you know the pouting always works with him.

“I really can’t…I just don’t want to let all my colleagues down if I don’t show up since it is my campaign after at all..”

“So what? They can still have a good time without you there, they don’t need you to survive Jungkook!” You practically beg, praying that he finally gives in.

“Actually they kinda do because most of them are on my pay roll— you know what that’s not the point. You’re right y/n, I’ll just tell them I had to take care of something.”

Your face lights up at his response, you were glad that you were able to get through to him. You grab his hand to leave but he tells you he has to say his fellow goodbyes to everyone before he gets going. You groan as you watch him walk away yet again to go say his farewells to everyone for the night.

When he finishes doing that you both are finally able to leave the venue and get back into the car.

“Is this another car you have?” Asking him curiously, you’ve been wondering since he pulled up to your house with it.

“Yeah, I own a couple.”

“Oh that’s cool, how many?”

“A lot.” He chuckles from his own answer, you glare at him since you genuinely wanted to know and now it was going to drive you crazy.

“Why do you want one of them? I’ll gladly give you one that I barely use,” he sincerely offers.

First he gives you a high paying job, then he pays your rent, now he’s practically offering you a car. You’re starting to think that maybe Jungkook is the sugar daddy of your dreams, yet he’s not even some gross old man that’s lonely. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world to have someone like him, just able to sweep all your problems away with no issue. It wasn’t even about the material things, it was just the fact that he went out of his way to constantly take care of you. You never had someone in your life so nurturing towards you, your own family didn’t even treat you this way. You had so many feelings for him that you couldn’t contain it anymore, you just had to say it.

“I think I’m in love with you.” You blurt out, you didn’t expect to actually say it.

“Because I’ll give you a car? That’s kinda shallow don’t you think?” He jokes with you.

“No- oh my God shut up. I mean in general Jungkook, I’m really falling in love with you and I don’t know what to do…”

“Well there’s really nothing to do. I’m also really in love with you which is why I would do anything for you.” He admits.

You wanted to cry at what he said. His voice sounded so soft, so sweet, everything he was saying to you was like music to your ears. You couldn’t let him say that without asking for something in return though.

“If you really loved me, you will file this divorce quickly so I won’t have to deal with this much longer..” you say in hopes that he’ll consider doing it.

“I will. I have the papers signed on my end but I’ve just been meaning to give them to her…”

“Do it tomorrow! I don’t like sleeping with married people, it makes me feel dirty.” You say while crossing your arms and pouting again.

He reassures everything will be fine, “I’ll try my best for you y/n.”

Jungkook was saying all the right things but still, you felt so unsure about his actions. You have no idea what Jungkook and Soyeon’s marriage is like, he’s never told you a single thing about her besides being an actress. All this curiosity was going to keep you up at night and the guilt would only grow more intense.

You were at Jungkook’s place sitting on his couch while he made you both some food. You were watching a cartoon on his 98” flat TV and all the colors and effects were even more captivating on the giant screen. You see Jungkook from the corner of your eye now walking up to you with the food. He made you some soup with chicken and it smelled really good. You take the bowl from him and place the spoon into your mouth, surprised by how delicious the soup was.

“This is so good, wow I didn’t know you could cook!” You continue eating your soup and he smiles at your approval.

“My friends don’t call me chef Jeon for no reason,” he winks at you.

You both continue eating in silence as you watch the cartoon on the TV, your legs were crossed on Jungkook’s lap and you felt so cozy lying beside him on his velvet couch.

Once you were finished with the soup you put it down the glass coffee table in front of you and reposition yourself to lye your head on Jungkook’s shoulder. He gives you small head pats while still gluing his eyes to the cartoon, you finally ask him what cartoon this was since you had no idea what you were even watching.

“It’s Pucca! It’s a show I used to watch as a kid, I still get nostalgic about it from time to time.”

You didn’t know he was so passionate about his cartoons, you always liked when he would show little bits of his interests. You were happy that he was able to share these things with you, it made your bond feel even closer.

“You’re so cute sometimes,” you say to him smiling, snuggling him with him some more.

“Thanks?” He chuckles at your funny comment, “you’re always cute though.”

With that, he brings his hand to your face and kisses you adoringly. You lean into the kiss and feel his lip ring brushing up against you, placing your hands around his neck you position yourself to be on his lap now. You tug on his lower lip and he lets you in properly; taking his time with kissing you deeply before he sneaks his hands elsewhere. You could feel his body heat against yours and it was only getting warmer in here. You begin to grind slowly on him as he trails his hands to your hips, now holding them in place. You keep grinding against his now visible boner, rocking your hips back and forth as he held onto you.

You moan in his mouth from the friction and you can feel him throbbing underneath you, his dick twitching at any slight amount of stimulation. Jungkook breaks away from the kiss to move on to your neck, he nibbles on your flesh as he bites down gently to eventually turn a reddish purple hue. He scatters little butterfly kisses all over to make you grow flustered, coming back up to press his lips against yours again.

The romantic in you wanted him to take his time with you but you’ve already had enough foreplay throughout the day. You really need him inside you and you were going to get that one way or another.

“Jungkook” you break away from the kiss for a second.

“Yes sweetheart?”

“Can I ride you?”

He smirks at your words, you didn’t beat around the bush at all for him.

“Of course you can ride daddy’s cock,” he brings his hand under your shirt to fondle your breasts, “you don’t have to ask princess.”

He lifts up your shirt to expose your bare chest to him, toying with your nipples some more while kissing you before he takes off his shirt next. You loved seeing him shirtless, his tattooed body was ridiculously sexy. The mere sight of him made you want to have an outer-body orgasm. You feel on his pecks and biceps just admiring his gorgeously toned body, you could trace the curves of abs all day. You kiss him again as he feels your ass through your sweatpants, sliding his hands in inside to grab it tighter. His hands were so soft and warm, you loved the feeling of his touch against you.

As you two part from the kiss, a thin string of saliva connects to the both of your lips. He smiles at you and licks it away.

“Take your pants for me pretty girl” he says, “wanna see you naked already.”

He was so impatient it made you giggle at his behavior. You get up from his lap to slide your sweatpants off and Jungkook is in disbelief to find out you went commando.

“Fuck… you really know how to drive me up the walls don’t you?” He couldn’t stop looking at you up and down, he was so infatuated and turn on with everything about you.

He signals you to come back to his lap with his finger and you sit on top of him now completely naked. He massages his hands all over your body tenderly, enamoring you dearly with his touches. His hands felt like putty to you, melting into him like clay as you grind against him again. A moan leaves both of your mouths from the pleasure and you didn’t notice but you realize now that the TV was turned off.

“Take your pants off already!” You whine to him so you can finally feel him. He tsks at you being unable to contain your excitement for him.

“Be patient little one, I was getting to that.”

He lets you off of him so he can undo his pants and slides them down to his ankles. You watch him closely as he goes onto his boxers, bringing them down as well; fully exposed to his cock for the second time today.

You jump back onto him and kiss hungrily, your bodies intertwine with one another as you straddle him and position yourself to take his length. He keeps his hands on your hips while you rub your wetness on his tip, the moans coming from your mouth was harmonic to Jungkook.

He moved a hand to feel on your ass and he leaves a hard slap against it, making your ass jiggle from the contact. He watches and does it again a few more times, making you whimper from the slight pain he’s causing.

“I love everything about you y/n,” he says once he breaks away from kissing you “I love all of you, you’re so fucking perfect” he nuzzled his face in your neck and you couldn’t help but smile at what he said. He knew exactly what to say to get you to make you feel like you were the only girl in the world.

You lowered yourself onto him now, feeling the way you take him so easily from being soaking wet. Jungkook mumbles something illegible under his breath as your cunt swallows his cock whole. It didn’t take long for you to reach the end of him since you were already so ready for him, you stay in the same position to feel all of him inside you. His cock was splitting you open so nicely, it felt like you were in paradise.

Jungkook bucks up his hips slowly, wanting to feel more movement from you. You move your hips to match his rhythm as you gain your balance, pressing both hands on his shoulder blades. You bounce slightly up and down on his cock, feeling your walls being filled up by every inch of him. You shifted from grinding on him real slow to picking up your pace indefinitely. Jungkook throws his head back from the pleasure, the sound of his balls hitting against your ass with the combination of it jiggling as you rode him like a bunny was enough to make him want to combust.

“You always feel so good around me princess,” he groans while grabbing your ass, “this pussy’s going to be the death of me baby.”

You simply keep moaning as you continue bouncing on his cock, he was thrusting back into you to go even deeper. Your eyes reached the back of the skull from the way he was hitting all the right spots in you. It wouldn’t take long before you started screaming his name and crying out for him.

“J-Jungkook, oh my god—” you couldn’t stop babbling, “fuck you’re so good— you’re so good to me daddy…”

“I know I am princess, now be good for me and cum when I tell you to.”

You nod your head viciously, wanting nothing more than to let him help you reach your orgasm. You couldn’t stop moaning his name over and over like a mantra, it was like your brain was only full of Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook.

“You can cum for me baby, go ahead it’s okay,” he says sweetly.

You feel your high approaching so you pick up the pace quicker, Jungkook’s fingernail was jabbing deep into your hip as you continue riding him. You feel your walls contract from your orgasm and you moaned out so loud for him that you were sure someone miles way could’ve even heard that. You let your orgasm wash over you and Jungkook quickly lifts you up from being on top so he can finish his load in your mouth. You get on your knees to become eye level with his cock and have your tongue out and ready for him. He gives a couple strokes to his cock and eventually large white strings of cum comes in contact with your mouth. You swallow all of his cum, licking the excess off his shaft to make sure you get all of it. You tap your tongue against the tip of his cock and the dirty view of you doing it was making Jungkook’s mind go complacent blank.

“You’re so fucking hot” he says, caressing your cheek in his hand and then squeezing it playfully.

You simply giggle at him and get up from the floor, you sit back onto the couch to give him another sweet kiss.

“You ready to shower and head to bed?” He asks.

“Yeah, I’m officially worn out for the day.”

You put only your shirt back on and Jungkook puts on his boxers, he leads the way for you both to head upstairs.

You immediately go into the bathroom and he goes into his room to get you both fresh clothes. Meanwhile as you wait for him to come back you were looking at the love bites that he left all your neck. You couldn’t believe he’d do such a thing since you literally have another shoot tomorrow. Guess you’ll have to just cover it up with some good ol’ concealer. You hear a commotion from outside the door but it didn’t sound like it was coming from Jungkook’s bedroom. A set of keys rustling could be heard from afar as you bring your ear close to the door.

“Jeon Jungkook!” You hear a woman’s voice from downstairs call out.

You slowly recognize that voice, it was that same voice from the voicemail in Jungkook’s phone. You were mortified, now trapped in the bathroom with absolutely no escape.

“Jungkook!” She calls out again, “I’m home, I decided to surprise you a day early!”

You wanted so badly to just crawl up into a microscopic ball and hide. You get into the bathtub and close the shower curtain so you can be hidden. You know Jungkook wasn’t coming back for you any time soon now.

Bracing yourself for the worst, you hear the voice grow closer as she headed up the stairs.

“Babe! You home?” She kept calling out to him but he wasn’t saying a word.

You were more concerned of her possibly finding out that you were here so you just keep quiet and do your best to remain calm. You were losing your shit in your mind but you believe in Jungkook enough to handle this. You just keep yourself poised so you can wait for this to all be over.

You hear the handle of the bathroom door jolt, you had it locked so no one could come in. You had no idea who was shaking the doorknob but you weren’t going to take your chances.

“Jungkook, you in there?” You hear his wife asks, now knocking on the door quietly.

“I know you’re in there, just answer me already!”

You hug yourself and rock back and forth to drown out the sounds of her. You couldn’t take it anymore, all the guilt kept rushing back to you now. You regret even being here at this point. Teleportation would really come in handy at this moment.

“Jungkoo- oh finally you show up!” She says in a chipper tone now.

“Hey Soyeon…” he didn’t sound enthusiastic at all to hear from her.

“Why is the bathroom door locked?” She asks out of curiosity.

You hear him give the worst excuse that you ever heard in your whole life of living.

“Oh damn is it really? I must have accidentally locked it or something, how weird is that!”

“I don’t think that’s even possible to do Jungkook..” she continued “what were you getting up to? Hiding someone in there?”

You know she was only joking but the irony of it was enough to make Jungkook become even more defensive.

“No silly, that’s crazy! I just accidentally locked it from the inside is all.”

“Well unlock it back, I gotta use the bathroom!”

“Then use the downstairs one.”

“What the fuck why? When’s there’s a perfectly good bathroom in front of me, stop with this nonsense and just open it already!” She demands.

You couldn’t stop fidgeting now, this whole situation was about to get blown up in Jungkook’s face and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

[waayfo]

THE ULTIMATE GUIDE TO LOVE AVENTURINE !

✧ ◝ summary the important steps to love aventurine, 100% approved by aventurine. (or the things you do that he love)

✧ ◝ fluff / hurt/comfort / light angst / hsr spoilers (aventurine’s past) / mentions of aventurine’s real name (kakavasha) / reverse comfort / gn!reader / some personal hcs / trauma / lmk if i miss some !

Alright so, i noticed that Aven always hides his left hand, and when he puts his hands together to pray, he also uses his left hand. So i assumed that his left hand was verrryyyyy special to him.

While in the Dreamscape, he also said that he always hid one hand (left hand) under the gambling table, and that hand always gripped the chips as tightly as possible (based on his dialogue during the quest).

So imagine— you, who have a special place somewhere in his heart, always hold his left hand carefully, then caress it. He would go feral fr.

He would joke about it by saying, “if you keep doing that, i’m afraid that my left hand will always bring big luck.”

And every time he wakes up from the same nightmare that always haunts him, he will always look for warmth in you; wants you to hold his hand and then hear your voice that always manages to calm him down to call his name—or even his real name.

Aven is very happy when you let him do small things or simple tasks, such as combing, braiding your hair, or putting on the beautiful jewelry he gave you. And from just one glance, you know how expensive the jewelry is. And he will happily buy you new jewelry again and again.

Aven love the moment when he set foot back home. Because usually, he will see you wearing his shirt— which faintly smells of his fragrance, while you curled up in his king sized bed and asleep while you are waiting for him to come home.

And at that moment, he was ready with his phone to take a photo of you which he thought was adorable.

He love when you’re cooking breakfast for the two of you. Because he can easily surprised you by suddenly hug you from behind, then buried his head on the crook of your neck.

Also, he’s the big spoon! He will always cuddle with you while sleeping and it’s a must. He won't sleep until he makes sure that you are asleep first. Either because he's afraid you'll suddenly leave while he's asleep, or because he just wants to observe every part of you. And to hear your every breath so he knows you are still with him, and to see your face so he can fall in love with you again and again.

Aventurine groaned. He squirmed a little, seeking comfort in the nightmare he saw. As if he couldn't wake up from the nightmare, his eyes refused to open, making himself a little tormented by his past which is again approaching him through his dream.

The past replays itself like a film. A film that he is reluctant to watch again. But the film was played again without his permission.

‘… kakavasha.’ The name that almost everyone forgot was called after long time. Aventurine looked back, seeing a glimmer of light amidst the darkness.

When he squinted his eyes to clearly see the blurry object in the middle of the light, he saw a familiar figure that he had longed to see. She called out his real name once again in despair. ‘Kakavasha..’

But when she called his name one last time, Aventurine could glimpse a small smile on the figure's face. She’s smiling, my sister is smiling at me.

And once the light slowly disappeared, Aventurine woke up. Pulled back to the real world where he belongs. Feeling his head dizzy, Aventurine held his head. At the same time, he was trying to regain consciousness after waking up from a dream.

That's when he realized; tears that seemed to have been coming out of his eyes for a long time, and you were looking at him worriedly. Your one hand is holding his left hand—the hand he considers special. It all felt like a fever dream for Aventurine.

“Kakavasha?” Your voice called his name in worry. This time it's no longer the voice of the familiar figure or his sister, the one calling his name is now you— the person he loves and he treasured the most. Someone who has accompanied him, and always makes sure that he is okay. Someone who always waits for him to come home. It’s you.

Your other hand moved to wipe the tears that had fallen. Your warm hand touched the cold skin of Aventurine. One of the differences between the two of you.

“Don’t cry,” The voice tried to calm him down again. Countless time you’ve been calmed “Everything is okay now.”

Aventurine didn't know how to react. He just kept quiet.

Without thinking, you immediately hugged his body that had felt a lot of suffering. You hugged that fragile body. As he usually did, he returned the hug. His head was buried in your neck. He always manages to find warmth in you. “I’m here, Aven.”

How could he not love you again and again after everything you've done?

[hotpinkstars]

ESPRESSO - aventurine x reader

- "now he's thinkin' bout me, everynight, oh, is it that sweet? i guess so." or, how does aventurine do when he's in love?

- GUYS GUYS QUEEN SABRINA DROPPED A SINGLE i've been listening to this for days and i needed to write about it sooooooooooo yeah! anyways i'll get to writing probably a few requests tomorrow and wednesday (expect 4-5 posts between those days to make up for my absence) and yeahhhhhh enjoy!!

- aventurine might be a little ooc, mentions of his trauma (so penacony main quest spoilers), reader confesses at the end. wc 1067

Aventurine doesn’t know what to do when he first figures out that the feeling in his chest whenever he saw you was because he liked you. He probably tried to deny it, until Topaz caught him blushing like crazy after you walked away from the conversation you two had just finished. (Even then, she had to tell him, and then he spent a long time thinking that possibility through. She might have been right). 

You plague his visions. Why does he always want something to do with you? Why does he always want to be in your space, but also never wants to see you again? You’ve noticed his weird behavior, considering you were one of the first people he’s ever genuinely called a friend, but didn’t really think too far into it. 

Though, it didn’t stop you from paying more attention to it, that's for a fact. Sometimes you’d pay more attention to his body movements around you, the way he speaks, his etiquette, etc. You and Topaz communicate through it, and it’s a little bit different from his conversations with her. 

You know he can be cocky. Like, very cocky. You know he’s not too afraid to talk back, to challenge someone to a gamble (spoiler he wins), and to be reckless. Though, you also know about his backstory. So you can kind of understand where he’s coming from. 

He’s been pretty open with you about all of the things he’s endured. You know his real name, he’s described how his family has looked, and he’s described his years he endured slavery and what his home planet was like. You know about the Men in Black and the Katicans. And you know how traumatized he is.

Now, you’ve known him for a long, long time before this. You welcomed him into the IPC when Jade first announced his arrival, and you kind of showed him the ropes. He thought you seemed kind, so he stayed in contact with you.

You’ve watched him change, all of his progress through life, the hard times and the good times, and so much more. And that's what gets him the most, he thinks. 

He never realized how much he trusted you until he realized he liked you. You know every single thing about this man, which was the reason why he was rather… nervous when he’d have to communicate with you face to face. He did a good job at keeping up his front he uses to talk to people, but you sensed a slight form of stress underneath all the layers he put up to look tough. 

He lays awake, thinking about you. You’ve made part of his mind your home, and it’s the part he comes back to over and over again. You replay in his mind like a good song that he can’t get enough of- on, and on, and on, and on. 

He does like to bring you little trinkets he finds pretty when he goes out in public to do some shopping. Considering how wealthy he is, he could probably afford to buy out the whole store, so if you even mention something you like to him, he’s on his way to find it for you. He likes to think of it as he’s buying your kindness, but you think something completely different. You enjoy his sudden gift giving, not just because of your gain, but because he thought about you enough to do such a thing. It always makes you slightly blush before laughing while opening the box presented in front of you. He thinks that's the most precious part about your time spent together; all of the opportunities he gets to listen to your gorgeous laughter and see your flawless smile. Topaz, pinch the man, he’s in his own personal dreampool.

Oh, how bad he wants to confess to you, but he’s really afraid of rejection. He fears losing you entirely, fears that you won’t look at him like you always do if he asked if you two could be a thing. He fears you’d think he was odd for wanting you to himself, and that you’d slowly back away until you refuse to even look at his broken, battered form any longer. The thought makes a shiver crawl up his back. He can’t lose you too. 

All this man asks is to find a way to remove you from his head. You’re absolutely tormenting him! Notice how he’s been lacking on his work lately, always caught in a daze when he’s sitting down at his desk? That’s you he’s daydreaming about. He’s no good with his emotions. He knows how to hide sadness, fear, and anger, but he’s never been in this boat before. Love is a whole new concept to him. 

“Aventurine, you’ve been out of it lately. Tell me, is something the matter?” You barge through the blonde's office, not even bothering to knock. You know you don’t have to, he’s never doing anything so significant in that tiny space that it needs to be kept private.

“What are you saying? Nothings up with me,” he drops his pen in the small plaster pen cup you bought for him. “Work has been tiring lately. Nothing to stress over.” 

You plop into the chair in front of his desk, resting your arms on the top and putting your head in between your palms.

“I can tell when you lie. Tell the truth.”

He looks away. What was he supposed to say? That he couldn’t get you out of his brain, and that you’re the only thing he can focus on? That’ll scare you off for sure!

“Aventurine?? You there?” you wave a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of his daze once more. “You know, you don’t have to lie. I already know what you’re thinking.”

His eyes slightly widen, just enough for you to notice. You giggle very lightly before continuing on with your sentence. “You have a little crush, don’t you? Don’t worry, I like you back. Seriously, I do.”

He doesn’t know how to reply to that. He doesn’t know if he wants to faint or make out with you right now. “So that makes us…?”

“I don’t know. We could remain friends, we could be boyfriend girlfriend, whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Well, he believes he already knows the answer he’s choosing.

[brighteuphony]

On the way back from Tea Country with Chakra-poisoned Kakashi tryna "casually" fish for some info before Sakura comes in with the one-hit KO on accident.

So she's got some complicated feelings for Kakashi as well, though they're a lot milder than what she feels about Sasuke.

There's a moment in my AU where Sakura goes through a deep reflection ritual, in which she has to face Inner Sakura -who is representative of all the ugly truths her day-to-day self hasn't been able to face- and come to terms with who she is.

During that time, she's got to face the music.

The music:

Sasuke is the last prodigal son of a clan that was brutally butchered. He's a genius with one of the most powerful dojutsu out there (that he has no idea how to use) and is coming in hot with more baggage than an airport terminal.

Naruto is not normal. She doesn't know what he is (as in-canon, she finds out after the time-skip and the Sakura from above is right on the cusp of Shippuden), but there's nothing normal about a kid who can pull wild orange chakra and who can fight Gaara's tailed beast and come out on top. He's got the personal attention of the Hokage, but the entire village has banded against him for some reason. He's special.

Kakashi is a war veteran turned Jounin and an infamous ANBU captain (I headcanon that some ANBU names are leaked specifically to generate a healthy level of fear/caution among other villages- which is why we know of Itachi/Kakashi/Shisui very publically) and is ALSO the last prodigal son of an old noble clan.

(No way a bookworm like Sakura didn't consume every publically available scroll on Konoha clans).

It doesn't take the big brains to figure out that he got team 7 specifically to help deal with Sasuke's trauma/teach him about the Sharingan, and put a leash on Naruto (and in the future, when she finds out that Madara was able to control the Kyuubi with the Sharingan as well as the knowledge that Kakashi was Minato's student it becomes even clearer why he got the Sasuke/Naruto combo.)

And Sakura? Sakura is a civilian. No clan, no dojutsu, nothing to her name except great chakra control. She's the literal meat in the meat-grinder of the military machine of Konoha, the acceptable sacrifice in a group of otherwise invaluable shinobi. She's just a...girl. (And it doesn't help that she was obsessed with Sasuke instead of training, furthering the gulf between her and Kakashi.)

Kakashi was absolutely not built to handle her- in fact, Kakashi has NO idea how to relate who hasn't gone through a mountain's worth of trauma or someone who hasn't been ingrained in the shinobi-as-a-tool lifestyle, and even then, he's not fully equipped to handle people who have (lmao Sasuke). Not to mention the man is a prodigy- he has no idea how to teach people who have to work hard to get somewhere in life. How do you teach someone if you've never had to 'work hard' to get there yourself?

So, Sakura understands that Kakashi was put in one of the most ridiculous situations of his career- a situation he had NO idea how to handle. She can forgive him for that. BUT, she can't forgive him for not trying his best.

Sakura spent a lot of time coming to terms with the fact that she rushed into the Chidori/Rasengan combo without a single idea of what she would do, but...Kakashi was a big reason for that.

She was HIS responsibility, and he fumbled that bag. Whatever his reasoning, whether it was to 'protect' her, or whether he thought she was worthless, whatever: he should have TRIED.

Kakashi was an adult with resources aplenty. He recognized that she had stellar chakra control but never bothered to teach her genjutsu or direct her to teachers who could pick up the slack.

And after the accident, he abandoned her again. Being forgotten in lieu of Sasuke and Naruto hurt...but she could heal. Being abandoned as some kind of martyr to Kakashi's failures as a teacher? It's gonna take a while for Kakashi to make that up to her...if he can muster the courage to face her.

Sakura finally understands why he preferred the memorial stone to the living. He already failed the dead, and it's easier to wallow in self-flagellation than it is to try and step up for the living.

Sakura stopped being a coward some time ago, and when Kakashi finally does the same, she'll forgive him.

Thank you so much for sticking with this wall of text! And thank you so much anon for the question! Once again, I really appreciate all the kind words people have been throwing my way. <3 <3 <3

[popamolly]

‘INTERNAL REDEMPTION’ LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR

summary. (y/n) continues to spy on Lucifer, preying on the little vulnerability that allows he allows (y/n) to see. Unbeknownst to both of them there is something blossoming with each conversation and shared stolen glance.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR

warnings. lucifer morningstar x stripper!fem!reader, eventual smut, mention of death, slow burn, biblical references, sex work, sexual themes, trauma, abuse, murder, slow burn, 18+ minors dni

author’s note. italics is for a flashback, just wanted to let everyone know if that isn’t made clear in the text, i finished this up at like 2am. enjoy sinners &lt;3

Lucifer held you captive with his words for hours. Explaining everything you wanted to know about him and his army of ducks. That wall was slowly crumbling as was his resolve. Though that seemed to be in the back of your mind as you found yourself intrigued by him and his story— ultimately finding out that the King of Hell was actually quite charming in his way.

“So these ducks are a manifestation of sinners,” You look toward him as if to confirm his words and when Lucifer nodded you continued, “Every sinner in Hell? No wonder you have so many.”

“And this isn’t even half of it,” Lucifer smiles proudly as he hops up from his chair, gesturing toward the rubber duck piles that almost reached the ceiling, “There are more at my amusement park.”

“I see, I guess I am just trying to understand why ducks of all things?”

“Spiritual progression? Rebirth? New beginnings?” Lucifer taps his chin in thought before shrugging, “A mere duck can mean a lot of different things that’s why, plus they are cuuuuteee!”

You laugh, a real genuine laugh, which was a sound you haven’t made in a long while. The King wasn’t so bad once you got know him. If anything he was an ideal king that you would read stories about. You wanted nothing more than to listen to him talk for hours more.

“What?” Lucifer got a bit self conscious, realizing that his excitement might have came off a bit nerdy or childish, “It’s silly isn’t it?”

You shake your head to ease his insecurities with a lopsided smile, “No, I just had this version of you in my head and seeing you now, in person..it's completely changed now that I have met you.”

“I hope that’s a good thing.” Lucifer chuckles. He fiddling with the top of his cane as if he was scared to meet your gaze.

“It is.” And for a moment you forgot why you were here. If you had to chose between the V’s and Lucifer when it came to deciding Hell’s fate, Lucifer would win by a landslide— but Lucifer wasn’t the one who owned your soul, “Tell me more about Charlie. Your face lights up whenever you speak of her.”

“She is my pride and joy!” Lucifer boasts proudly, “She has this whole Hotel thing going on apparently. I’ve been poppin’ in here and there to help her ya know, being an awesome dad and whatnot.”

“And what of this hotel?” You ask, leaning a bit closer to Lucifer as if he would tell you a secret, “Does she really believe that she can redeem sinners?”

“Yes, she…she does,” Lucifer sighs after a moment, turning away from you to run his fingers through his golden hair. A heavy weight clearly on his shoulders as he thought of his daughter and her fairytale like dreams for Hell. It hurt his heart to know that he couldn’t do more for her. He knew he could make whatever dream of hers come true except for the one she wanted most. This was a whole other thing entirely. This was something between Hell and Earth and the lines have always been blurred— he would never be able to cross it even he wanted to.

“You don’t sound too sure..” You chose your words carefully. There was a tiny crack in his wall of vulnerability and you wanted to crack it some more, “Do you doubt Charlie?”

“No no no! Pfffft, Of course not!” Lucifer quickly says before sighing in defeat, raking his fingers through his blonde hair, “I don’t doubt her..I just— I don’t think she understands the weight of what she is trying to do. I just l don’t want her to end up hurt over this.”

“If all else fails then she will know that you were there for her,” You say, placing your hand on his shoulder reassuringly, “All you have to do is believe in her, even if you don’t believe in her dreams.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Lucifer turned to look at you. A split moment in time where the world seemed to stop and it was just you and him. Your words might have came from your own selfish need to stay on Valentino’s good side but your kindness remained true. It became clear to you that the King was nothing more than a prideful man that was trying his best. Not only for his daughter but himself and for Hell. In the short time that you knew him it was something that you quickly learned to admire, “Yes, well,” Lucifer clears his throat, his cheeks flushing slightly under your intense gaze, “Thank you for the company. It was nice to…open up a bit.”

“Of course, your majesty,” You nod, taking that as your cue to leave the King to his Kingly duties as the time you two spent together had made day turn to night in an instant, “I will leave you to your duties.”

“Right! My duties! I am a very very busy man! So many souls to collect, tons of sinners to kill, people to torture, the list just goes on…haha!” Lucifer wanted to jump out of his own skin and slap himself silly. Curse him for his rambling, why did he even feel the need to impress you? A lowly sinner that meant absolutely nothing to him.

“if you ever need a friend or,” Your fingertips grazes the doorknob to his bedchambers with the tray of empty plates in the other arm, “…A listening ear, you always call upon me.” Offering one last smile in the King's direction, you slip out into the hall, closing the door behind you softly.

Lucifer couldn’t help but feel how his room suddenly felt cold now that your warm presence was gone. There was a certain emptiness in the air that reminded him he was truly lonely. \

“So the King of Hell’s daughter wasn’t joking about the redemption of sinners,” Vox sneers over the tiny screen of the voxtech watch he gave you, “And whatever the reason for the Radio Demon to be by Charlie’s side, it surely only benefits him.” The watch screen slightly glitches from Vox laughing, “Redemption of sinners?! How stupid is that?”

“It could be possible,” You say, making the watch on your wrist glitch some more.

“If I wanted your opinion bitch, I would ask for it!” The static noise was starting to ring in your ears, its material overheating in the palm of your hand, “Whatever the case is, I need you sucking Lucifer’s dick by next week if we are going to get any valuable information out of him, do you understand me?”

You bit down on your bottom lip, tears stinging at the corner of your eyes from feeling guilty about getting close to Lucifer under such circumstances. Your paths should have never even crossed. You both might be in hell but you were in entirely different worlds. There was this unspoken connection you two shared the moment your eyes met and it was just enough to get the guilt eating away at you.

“Or do I have to tell Valentino that his favorite obedient girl is being defiant?”

“No, I—”

“Good, I’m so glad we have an understanding. Now go get me some actually good information I can fucking use!” With that Vox hung up the call, making you let out a deep breath that you didn’t know you were holding in. You toss the watch to the floor angrily, dropping your head into your hands. This was all just a stupid pointless mission. One that had no satisfying end or results because there was nothing to say. There was nothing to report back. The King, Charlie, and those around him was plotting to do more good than harm.

You leaned over to turn the faucet off, stopping the hot water from filling the porcelain tub completely after nearly overflowing it from being too lost in your thoughts.

Slowly, you began to slip out of your clothes, neatly folding them and putting them aside before stepping into the hot water, the stinging pain hardly anything you would flinch from. That stinging pain felt good, it reminded you that you were present in the moment even when you wanted nothing more than to just to disappear.

Closing your eyes to relax, you sink deeper and deeper into the water until you felt your mind slowly drift elsewhere.

With a melodic hum, you turned the page to your book, intrigued by the ancient text and words of God. Surrounding you were scrolls and other relics that you stole from the council’s library, eager to learn more about God and his mysterious ways. It was all you could do in Heaven after all, live blissfully but you were bored of that. Instead of thriving off the golden city’s pleasures you always found your head in a book, a simply pleasure that you’ve grown to love.

“Boo!” Lucifer suddenly pops down in front of you. Startled, you toss your book up, which he catches with ease, “What ya reading?”

“God’s texts Lulu, what else?” You try to grab your book from him but he holds it above your head, slowly inching upward with the help of his wings to show that he was taller than you. He wasn’t but you’d like to humor him every now and again, “Lucifer! Give it back!”

“Wouldn’t you much rather see the gift I brought you instead of reading a boring book?” Lucifer wiggled his eyebrows in jest, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“A Gift?” You stopped jumping for your book then, your wings tucked back into you with a curious glint in your eyes. Lucifer gave dramatic pause before presenting you a green apple. He tossed it to you and you caught it in your delicate hands, smiling at the kind gesture. “An apple, how romantic.”

“Is it not to your liking?” Lucifer played along with your teasing remark, circling around you as he playfully grabs and twist your hair around his fingers in such a loving way that it had your heartbeat quickening and you breath falling short, "I thought I'd give you something a little bit more nontraditional."

It took everything in your power not to swoon over a damn apple because it wasn't just an apple to you. Lucifer would go out of his way to bring you things whenever you two would meet up at your secret spot under a new sprouting tree. There was something sparking between you two and you weren't sure how long you would be able to avoid it as you were a hopeless romantic. Lucifer had such a way with words that whenever he spoke it was if he was building palaces- cathedrals even. Between that and that charming warm smile, you knew you wouldn't be able to deny your feelings for much longer but until he admitted it first you weren't going to say anything. Call it stubbornness but you simply didn't want to be mistaken and absolutely sure that your feelings for him were one hundred percent reciprocated.

"Next time get a red apple," You said, finding that hidden resolve within you once again as you smirked at him, "They're sweeter."

"Are they now?" Lucifer stopped circling you to stand only inches apart from your face. He was so close that you could feel his breath against your lips. A ball of anticipation formed at the base of your stomach, making you feel as though you have swallowed butterflies, "(Y/N).." The angel in front of you swallowed a lump in his throat, his own body betraying him as he backs you up against the tree, lips only barely touching one another, "Can I kiss you?"

You were breathless. Lucifer had officially sucked out all the air from your lungs- or so it felt like, "Yes." And with your consent, Lucifer crashed his lips to yours passionately. He invaded your mouth and all of your senses. You melted into him, relaxing against his body as you brought your arms around his neck to pull him impossibly closer. It was as if fireworks went off in your head. Even the sound of distant ringing of the bells had you questioning if it was truly meant to be.

You suddenly pulled away from Lucifer, "Bells.."

Lucifer blinks at you dreamily, "You hear them too? It's perfect."

"No, Lucifer, the bells! I'm late for afternoon prayer!" You shove him out the way and continue collecting your things. You have been late to afternoon prayer for the past two weeks and were already walking on a thin line with the Seraphims, you couldn't afford to be late again, "I have to go."

Lucifer pulls you back to him with a slight frown, "So soon? But this might be our last time together for awhile. I have that council meeting today."

"For what? Don't tell me this about your dreams and aspirations?" By the way Lucifer looked away from you you knew it was exactly that, "You can't bring that to the council members, they will see it as a threat to everything they have built."

"And have you ever asked yourself why that is? They should embrace change, not run away from it." Lucifer says, his facial expression serious, "I can prove to them that change is positive, something good!"

You shake your head, "Don't be a fool Lucifer."

"Why can't you just support this? Support me? Is change so bad?!"

"If it's going to cost you your life Lucifer, then I can't support it." You place your free hand on his check. The pad of your thumb grazing his soft skin comfortingly, "I won't support you in this."

Silence falls over you two and for a moment you thought that your friend had finally seen through to reason but it was the exact opposite. Your heart broke and you knew that your support was the one thing he ever wanted from you and you denied him that. There was this quiet heartbreak you felt in your chest, realizing that you had lost not only your lover but your friend as well.

Lucifer's hand comes up to grip your wrist, gently pulling you away from him, "With or without you, I will do this. I will show them. Show everyone." You could only watch as he turns from you and flies away, leaving you to be covered by his shadow and retreating back.

"That pride of yours," You whispered, hands clenched tightly into fist at your sides as you felt tears leave your eyes, "Will be your downfall, Lucifer."

You sat up in the water suddenly, gasping for air as you felt someone violently shake you. You sputtered and coughed up what felt like a lung, water trickled down and into your eyes making your vision blurry for a few seconds before you could blink them away to focus on the person who was kneeled next to the tub, concerned clearly etched across their face as they looked at you. You blinked away the water, the blurry figure now forming into none other than Lysandra.

"Goodness, dear! Do you know how dangerous it is to fall asleep in the bath?" Rushing to grab a towel that was hanging on a rack, Lysandra lets you put all of your weight on her as she helps you out the tub, wrapping the fuzzy warm towel around your nude body, "You're lucky I saw the water coming from under the door! What on earth were you thinking?" "I had the strangest dream.." You start to say, breathless and panting but Lysandra shushes you, helping you dry off and get warm as she leads you out the bathroom, fully intending on not leaving your side for the rest of the night.

"Hush, your mind must be in shambles poor thing," The elderly woman leads you back into your bedroom, "A nice cup of calming tea should do the trick. Now stay here and don't move."

You were still in shock to even register your current reality anymore. That dream you had felt too real, almost as if it had just happened. Why was Lucifer in it? Why were you an Angel? Why were you in heaven? You dismissed it as nothing more than your mind playing tricks on you. This only happened because of your growing connection to Lucifer. It was nothing of importance right? Dreams come from imagination- but there was a part of your mind that knew that dreams could also stem from memories.

© POPAMOLLY 2024 all fanfics belong to me, do not copy, translate, or repost on any other social media.

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Like Bugs in a Rug: Chapter Two

(Previous Chapter)

Summary: Azriel Shadowsinger, mysterious pretty boy extraordinaire himself, was head over heels in love with you for years. Everyone in the room could see it, except for you of course. A series of connected one-shots.

Chapter Word Count: 7,500

Chapter Content Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst kinda, eventual fluff, anxiety/panic attack, vomit (nothing graphic), Rhysand being an ass, Nesta x Reader friendship, Rhysand slander lol,  AFAB Reader, Reader (You), fluff, some details about Reader's appearance but overall vague, canon plot spoilers as this is canon compliant-ish Note: So is this fluff? Debatable. But there is still plenty of Az fluff in it, you just got to work for it a little more this time. You don’t need to read the first chapter to understand what’s going on here, but they are connected!

It took almost three years of employment with the Inner Circle for you to personally encounter the ‘Night Triumphant’ persona. You were not impressed. The most serious you’d seen your cousin was ‘High Lord Rhysand’, the fierce leader, but even that was limited to political business outside of Velaris. More so than not, it was just Rhys, your fun loving, sarcastic friend who so happened to wield an enormous amount of power. 

The male sitting at his work desk was not your ‘Rhys’. Hell this wasn’t even High Lord Rhysand. The Night Triumphant held eye contact with you, gaze calculated and stern. You studied the authority in his expression, his mouth drawn into a tight line. Staring him down right back, you waited for the facade to break and reveal the male you had come to know as family. You searched his face for the guy who would rather face Amarantha again than put you in such a precarious situation. The very situation that plagued you with consistent nightmares since you left Hewn City.

You did not find that male.

Your gaze flitted to Mor, her body draped in a leather armchair off to the side, hoping to find a trace of humor in her expression. She tried to look nonchalant, but there was a sharp edge to her that betrayed her own trepidation.

Nesta stood an arm’s length away from you, uncharacteristically quiet in the wake of your High Lord’s orders. She seemed as if she was waiting to see who would escalate things first. Rhysand had summoned the three of you to his office to brief everyone on an upcoming…obligation. He prefaced the meeting by saying that he knew it wasn’t an ideal assignment. He wasn’t asking if you wanted to do it, it was non negotiable. 

In two months time, you, Nesta, and Mor would be answering a summons to Hewn City. Kier had been requesting a personal audience with you for the last year. Mor and Rhysand could no longer postpone it, as you were a Night Court Courtier afterall.

Still, you did not want to believe that Rhys would ask this of you. “You’re kidding, right? This isn’t very funny, Rhysand.”

“I know you can tell that I am not joking.” His flinty tone brook no argument.

Any hope of reasoning with the Night Triumphant withered away. He summoned you to his office well aware that you wouldn’t take kindly to being sent back. Here you’d been thinking Rhysand understood your trauma best, having been held captive and used while Under the Mountain. 

It appeared that you had misjudged him.

Just as you were about to say as much, Mor spoke up for the first time since the meeting started. “Kier threatened mutiny at the last Council meeting. At first he demanded a private audience, even after I informed him of our bargain. When we still refused to send you by yourself despite his threats, he agreed on these terms. You and Nesta because you’re a team, and me because I oversee The Court of Nightmares anyway. He couldn’t argue with that logic.”

You felt like you were going to be sick. After 300 years of being nothing but a tool for your father, the idea of seeing Kier’s face again so soon had your lunch sitting heavy in your stomach. It was inevitable, he thought you were loyal to him, his spy on the inside. You had zero idea how you were going to handle a reunion with him, simply thinking about it made you short of breath.

Your nights were plagued with stress dreams about what it would be like to return to your old home. You avoided stewing on the topic during your waking hours. The inevitability of it all often sent you spiraling, you couldn’t ghost Kier forever, but you thought you had more time. There was no fucking way you were ready. “I can’t do this,” You said, “give me any other assignment, and I’ll do it. Just not this.”

“You can,” Rhysand enunciated each word, slow and deliberate, like he wasn’t sure you would understand him, “and you will.” 

Oh hell no. You did not uproot your entire life to be spoken to like that. “Do not speak to me like a child, Rhysand–”

“Then stop acting like one,” he scolded, like you were the one being unreasonable, “this is your duty to your court, what I pay you to do. If you won’t do what needs to be done to protect your court then we don’t have a place for you here.”

Rhysand’s words hit like a blow. Your sharp intake of breath was echoed by both Nesta and Mor, but you couldn’t see them, they might as well have not been there, your world shrinking down to Rhysand as he regarded you coldly.

“So what will it be?” He addressed you, leaning forward over his desk, leering, “will you do as your High Lord asks of you, or will you be resigning today?” He pressured.

Your hands fisted, ire rising up so fast it made your eyes sting with unshed tears. If you got kicked out of Velaris you’d undoubtedly end up back in Hewn City. And you couldn’t let that happen, not after you finally got a taste of freedom.

Rhysand may like to believe himself better than Kier, but how was this any different from how Kier treated you? Was this your destiny? Undeserving of kindness unless you proved your worth? 

What about you made people forget that you were a living, breathing being? Just like everyone else in the room, you had feelings that mattered, and hopes for your future. You’d been stripped of your freewill for the first three centuries of your life. It was a wonder that you hadn’t gone mad.

Were you only allowed a taste of freedom? Was that Rhysand’s plan all along? Get you hooked on life in Velaris then dangle it in front of you like you were a simple mule, your freedom the carrot held just out of reach.

It made your blood boil.

“My apologies.” You sneered at him, gone was the meek, conditioned wallflower. You meant all the disrespect. In a dramatic flourish you bowed low to Rhysand, making sure he saw your contempt for him when he met your gaze.

 You maintained direct eye contact as you hissed harsh sarcasm at him, “I am at your disposal, High Lord.”

Rhysand’s eyes flared with something dark and aggressive. Time slowed, a pulse of his power cresting over you in a suffocating wave, a preview of how oppressive he could make it if he so wished. Dread replaced your anger, the confidence you’d displayed moments ago dissipating. You struggled to not show how he had shaken you, and by some miracle, you stood your ground. Still, he could probably hear your heart pounding from where he sat.

Amidst the theatrics, your own power had not been so keen on backing down. It had coiled around you like a viper ready to strike, protective, as Rhysand’s prowling darkness prodded your boundaries. 

This version of Rhysand left you stricken, unable to reconcile the egregious behavior with the male you’d had breakfast with just that morning. It felt like his power was tearing you in half, and he wasn’t even exerting himself. He looked bored.

Did you escape the clutches of one villain, only to run into the hands of another? Were you really that foolish?

Mor stepped into your field of vision, mouthing something at you. You hadn’t realized your ears were ringing until the shrill noise faded enough for you to hear her calling your name. The frantic quality of her voice snapped you out of whatever daze Rhysand’s power had cast on you.

Right. Nesta and Mor had witnessed that entire thing. You’d forgotten about their presence in the heat of the moment, your attention tunnel visioned on Rhysand. He had humiliated you in front of some of the most important people in your life. The only thing that could have made it worse was if Azriel had been there too.

Intense embarrassment flooded you, a seed of distrust taking root deep in your heart. You felt so stupid, thinking you could trust Rhysand and his Inner Circle. Mor was still trying to get your attention, but you stared right past her, looking at Rhysand like you hated him.

Hell. Maybe you did.

Mor called your name once more with urgency, moving closer to you, half turned so she hadn’t given her back to her High Lord, but solely focused on you. “It’s the best we could do without inciting a civil war.” She tried to clarify, emphasizing on the ‘we’ as she gestured between herself and Rhysand. 

“You have to know we wouldn’t put you in this position if we had any other choice. I personally promised I would never leave you alone in that city again, and there is nothing our father can say or do to make me break that promise to you. We will do this together.”

Rhysand’s power had receded, but you could still feel it loitering like a watchdog. Something you’d never imagined Rhys doing to you before the meeting. He’d always spun such pretty promises about your future in Velaris, and you believed him.

And now Mor was doing the same exact thing. More pretty promises, but no proof of her intentions to follow through with them. 

Mor’s shoulders visibly sagged, “If you don’t believe me, then look.” She pleaded, offering her mind up for you to read.

You physically recoiled at her suggestion. “I will do no such thing!” You spat back in disgust, “You are my sister, this is supposed to be my family. I will not taint our relationship with my powers in a moment of weakness. You may not return the same respect, but I refuse to surround myself with people I can’t trust without rummaging around their mind for their truths first.”

Unlike some males went unsaid as you fumbled to tone it down for Mor. Your problem was not with her, and she didn’t deserve your harsh words. “I can’t…I won’t….I–”

Frustrated with yourself, you took a steadying breath, emotion burning behind your eyes. Despite your best effort to keep composed, your voice quivered, “I will not be like our father.”

The room was stunned silent, Mor regarded you with sadness, lips parting to respond, but then pursing closed in a tight line.

Rhysand was the one to break the silence. His power dispersed as he leaned back in his chair, acting like he hadn’t just wound you up tight enough to fracture you into pieces.

“So you accept the assignment then?” He inquired, brushing nonexistent lint from the cuff of his dress shirt.

His lack of remorse irked you. Did he not think he could have handled the situation better? Was this how he treated everyone in the Inner Circle? The list of things you wanted clarification on kept growing, so instead you settled on, “Yes.” 

“I’m glad we could come to an agreement then.” He drawled, “We will go over details and strategy another time, when we are all more composed.”

You wanted to punch him in his goddamn face.

“For now, this meeting is dismissed.”

As soon as he finished speaking you stormed out of his office, nearly colliding with Nesta in your haste to get away from Rhysand. Originally you were going to visit the library after the meeting. Nesta had suggested a book for you to read, and you wanted to read it so you had something to talk to her about. But you were too worked up to do that now, you needed to get out of there. 

You didn’t care where you ended up, so long as you put as much distance between you and Rhysand as possible.

XxXx

By step 174 your blurry vision cleared a smidge, too out of breath to cry for the moment. You didn’t have anyone to help you leave The House of Wind, so you took to the 10,000 stairs with the expectation of someone eventually coming to find you. There was no way in hell you’d actually be able to reach the bottom. You began the descent down the spiraling staircase so fast It was a marvel that you didn’t trip.

Any time you slowed down Rhysand’s words would play on loop in your head. The only way to drown it out was to pick up the pace, the exertion elevating your heart rate enough for it to overpower that nasty voice in the back of your head. If you ran fast enough the only thing you could concentrate on was counting the steps you took.

239 steps down, and you had no choice but to slow down to a more reasonable pace. It was a warm day, and you were getting dizzy. The last thing you wanted to do was pass out. In a desperate attempt to keep your mind occupied as you caught your breath you focused on the breeze cooling the sweat beading up on your forehead. You listened to the slap of your bare feet on the smooth, sun-warmed stone. You thought of the color of the sandals you left behind at the very top of the stairs. You pondered on which step you’d discarded your blouse on after it began to cling to your sweaty skin.

Your guess was step 148.

You hit the first landing platform at step 250, slowing to a walk as you panted, hands propped against your hips as you counted your next few steps. Woozy, you let your eyes fall closed for a moment, but the image of Kier sitting in his throne room beckoning you forward flashed across your mind. You flinched so hard you accidentally opened your eyes looking directly into the sun.

It felt like your head had a heartbeat of its own, vision blotching from the brightness. You didn’t know how your day could get any more bleak as you rapidly blinked the disorienting dots away. Glimpses of The Court of Nightmares throne room lurking behind every blink, Kier looked more like Rhysand each time you closed your eyes.

It made your stomach lurch, and you whimpered around a dry heave.

A particularly strong gust of wind ruffled through your hair, and you can almost hear Azriel’s voice reminding you to focus on your other senses. Your mind can lie to you, but it’s much harder for all your senses to be tricked at the same time.

The sunlight, the ever-present wind, the sound of birds, the smell of fresh air. Let nature ground you. 

It just wasn’t enough. You’d only paused for a few moments, but your chest began to feel too tight for your lungs, anxiety squeezing the air out of you before you could properly inhale it. Two months. Just two measly months to figure out what the hell you were going to say to Kier–to your mom, after you’d gone no contact for almost 3 years. Two months to not be petrified of somehow getting trapped down there again.

So you continued down the stairs, pushing yourself harder. 

251. 252. 253. Counting them like Azriel had taught you.

It had been after your first dinner with the Inner Circle at the House of Wind. Mor was a little too tipsy to winnow home safely, so the both of you decided it best to share a guest room. You were feeling antsy, Mor having fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

The House of Wind was so different from Hewn City. Cozy and surprisingly casual in decor, but it was carved out of the side of a mountain. With the curtains drawn, in the dark quiet of the night, it almost felt like your bedroom in The Court of Nightmares.

You had thought a glass of water would do you some good, help you settle enough to get some rest. So you set out for the kitchen, taking care to walk quietly so as to not wake anyone. The hallway led to a flight of stairs, which brought you to more hallways that seemed to stretch on, and on, and on. The homey decor fell away, your balance wobbling with the sudden onset of vertigo. Closing your eyes didn’t help, dizzy and disoriented, everything felt like it was tipped on its axis. You couldn’t place where you were, where you were going, just that you were alone. Fear flooded your senses, and you swore you smelled the dank air of the streets of Hewn City like you were still there.

Azriel found you slumped against the wall on shaky legs, your pulse pounding so hard in your ears you couldn’t hear what he was saying to you. The touch of his rough hands on your bare arms was soothing enough to bring you back to yourself. You weren’t walking the streets of Hewn City. You weren’t alone. Azriel had you.

Each inhale had still felt like you were gulping in freezing cold water, your breath coming in irregular gasps. You thought you were going to die in that hallway, suffocating on fucking air.

Azriel took you to the training grounds on the rooftop of all places. You can still remember the brightness of the full moon that night as he coached you through breathing exercises. Then, coaxed you into walking laps with him around the perimeter of the huge training grounds. He counted each step aloud with you until you had calmed enough to tell him what the hell had happened.

And that was how you and the Shadowsinger bonded over Claustrophobia. An unfortunate thing to have in common, an even more unfortunate first thing to find you had in common.

In the moments after you’d come down from your panic attack you wanted to svirel up and fade away, so thoroughly embarrassed. But now, you thanked The Mother for sending Azriel to find you that night.

It was those same coping skills that led you to working out your anxiety after the meeting. 290 steps away from The House of Wind, and you were sure your legs were going to give out if you kept pushing yourself. You came to a slow stop, soles of both your feet planted on the same stair. Lulling your head back so your face was to the cloudless sky, you closed your eyes and pictured that moment with Azriel. Instead of Kier morphing into Rhysand, you saw Azriel walking laps with you around the moonlit training grounds.

You basked in the breeze against your face, your anger and fear still roiling in your stomach, but no longer all consuming. The relief was short lived, a concentrated pang of despair reared its ugly head, raw hurt so overwhelming it chased the warm memories with Azriel away. It made you so tired, so emotionally drained you felt it in the marrow of your bones. You wanted to just let go, collapse in a heap and never get up again.

Yet, by some stroke of willpower, you remained on your feet. You hadn’t warmed up before taking on the stairs, and you could already feel soreness settling into your muscles. Gingerly you sat yourself down on the steps, resting your elbows on your thighs as you rubbed your hands over your face, spreading fresh tears across the top of your cheeks.

If you won’t do what needs to be done to protect your court then we don’t have a place for you here. Rhysand’s words burned the part of you that had always suspected as much. There was this nasty little voice that lived in the back of your head. It would mock you when you were too content in calling this place home.

You wondered if that voice would start to sound like Rhysand.

The thought broke your heart a little bit more. You wanted so badly to make him proud, to earn your place in the Inner Circle, prove that they hadn’t made a mistake taking you in. The worst part was that you thought you were doing good. Not that you’d believed yourself to be one of them, you were still so new, but you thought…you thought…

You don’t know what you fucking thought.

Curling into yourself, your knees tucked in close to your chest, you made yourself as small as possible. The full body trembling made your sobs shaky, your entire being wobbled from the weight of your failure, your naivety. This was what you got for wanting to do it the right way. You’d never built relationships without relying on your powers to sniff out their loyalty beforehand, never truly trusted on your own violation.

Your father always thought it was a stupid risk to take when you could know for sure. You thought it was an awfully lonely way to live, to never trust fully. Perhaps you’d been wrong.

This was what you get, you silly girl. Kier’s voice taunted from the back of your mind. Or was that Rhysand’s voice? Did the difference even matter anymore? 

The telltale sound of approaching footsteps closed in on you from behind, you couldn’t tell who it was, all you could smell was the salt of your own tears. Maybe it was one of them coming to take you out of your misery, maybe Rhysand took your display in his office as a sign of disloyalty.

The killing blow never came, so you glanced up to see Nesta taking a seat next to you. The last person you expected to come looking for you if you were being honest.

She didn’t look at you right away, which you appreciated. You were humiliated enough without her seeing you wiping your own snot on your forearm. Her icy stare was focused on the view, the only indication that she had run to catch up with you, a few fly away hairs having been jostled loose from her braids.

“You were pretty hard to catch up to, you know,” She leaned back, supporting her weight on her hands against the step behind her, “for someone who doesn’t regularly train, at least.”

Her attempt at humor, which earlier in the day would have made you indignant, fell flat. Instead inciting a new wave of tears to fall past your lash line. You dropped your head lower to hide it from her, but it did little to smother the sound of your quivering breath.

She didn’t try again, and her presence grew awkward when you didn’t try either, but she stayed next to you regardless.

When it became apparent that she would stay by your side unless you sent her away, you found your words. “What if I can’t do it,” You croaked out, voice absolutely wrecked, “Face my father, return underground? What if I can’t do what’s expected of me? What if it’s too much, too soon? What if I lose everything because I’m not strong enough.” Will never be strong enough.

“Then we will figure it out,” Nesta answered without hesitation, “Together.”

You are alone. That damned voice insisted.

“But Rhysand said–”

“I know what Rhysand said.” Nesta hissed, and you startled, your bloodshot eyes meeting hers for the first time since she arrived. She looked pissed, lips pursed in a scowl as if the High Lord was right in front of her. “Rhysand is an insensitive jackass. He won’t send you away because you messed up one job.”

“How can you know that?” You whispered, already knowing that she couldn’t know for sure. 

“Because I’ve pissed him off by doing far worse, and I’m still here.”

You shook your head at her reasoning, not good enough, she can’t know for sure. “You're his mate’s sister, and Cassian’s mate. He can’t exile you.”

“And you're The Morrigan’s sister, and his own cousin.” Nesta deadpanned. “You’re not going to get exiled over a visit to The Court of Nightmares.”

“How can you possibly know that?!” You shouted, one of your hands clutching the fabric of your sweat soaked chest binding as your heart ached. Frantic to believe her, but knowing that you just couldn’t.

“Because Rhysand hates me, we barely tolerate each other on good days. He once threatened to banish me to the human continent,” she rebuked, hands flying about as she grew impassioned, “He loves you. He’s just an overpowered ass on a power trip. You questioned his authority and it hurt his fragile little ego. And even if he was stupid enough to try to cast you out, the rest of the Inner Circle would never let that happen.”

Your nerves were fucking shot. Whatever remained of your bravado frayed with every hagrid breath, it was impossible to stay focused. It was like your powers were waiting for you to be distracted, taking the opportunity to thrash against your mental shields. You didn’t know if it was skill keeping your powers in check, or dumb luck.

Your headache spread across your temples, sharp pain panging behind your eyes. You were already so tired, but the tears would not stop coming. That damned voice, still whispering its poison, adding to the agony. Nesta can’t know for sure, but you could if you just gave in.

You looked Nesta over, her relaxed body language at odds with the determined fire in her eyes. She left herself wide open, she wouldn’t even know if you read her. You’d be in control, your fate wouldn’t be left up to a gamble.

Nesta tried to meet your gaze, and you squeezed your eyes shut, turning away from her. It was impossible for you to think with her piercing stare studying you. What reason did Nesta even have to care about what happened to you? She didn’t say shit while Rhysand was ripping your world apart, and yet she showed up here? To do what exactly?

There was a dull ringing in your ears as your power surged against your restraint, and maybe you screamed, maybe you didn’t. Your fingers went up into your hair, fisting at your roots as you pulled, rocking yourself back and forth because it would be so easy.

And maybe if you gave in, that stupid voice would stop.

Nesta called your name, “I wouldn’t let Rhysand kick you out of Velaris.”

The cry you let out sounded almost feral. “I don’t know that!” .

“No, you don’t,” Nesta acquiesced, “but do you trust me?”

Did you trust Nesta? The question cut you into you like the edge of a knife, your heart answering with a resounding yes.

Wow, did you want that to be true. But that sinister voice oozed like an oil slick in the back of your head. Will you do as your High Lord asks of you, or will you be resigning today? You had trusted Rhysand too.

Even if Nesta wanted you here, did you think she would disobey her High Lord for you? You didn’t know, not for sure. Your power reared up again, and your head pounded at the onslaught. That oily voice so loud it was all you could hear. You could know.

“I-I don’t know.” You stammered, stomach churning into grotesque knots.

“Do you trust yourself?” Nesta continued her line of questioning.

That answer came to you quick, no, and it had you lurching forward, your balance lost as you scraped your knees sliding down a couple stairs. You wretched, violent heaves as your stomach emptied out on the stairs in front of you.

No. You didn’t trust yourself.

“There was a time where I didn’t trust myself either.” It was like you weren’t barfing up your guts right in front of her, Nesta spoke with such calm. “Didn’t let anyone close enough to trust, even myself, I didn’t know how.”

You wretched again, your hair getting in the way. Gentle fingers gathered the stray pieces that had fallen from your updo. You hadn’t heard her move over to you, but she was there, steadying you as you struggled through a bout of dry heaving. If you weren’t so miserable, the tenderness coming from Nesta would have shocked the hell out of you.

Her free hand rubbed soothing circles into your back as she continued her tale. “I hated myself,” Nesta confided, voice raspy with emotion, “so much that I drank myself stupid every night to escape the darkness of my own thoughts.”

Now, the random heart to heart did shock you.

Three years of trying to connect with the enigma that was Nesta Archeon. Three years of getting redirected when you asked something too deep. The most you got out of Nesta was what she liked to read, so you picked up reading just to have a reason to approach her outside of assignments. Three years of one sided heart to hearts, evaded personal questions, and turned down sleepover invitations.

And she decided that now was the proper time to trauma dump on you? While you were half dressed, ugly crying with vomit in your hair?

What a baffling female. The confusion helped you relax, so surprised you were by Nesta’s sudden urge to share. Her hand kept a slow, steady rhythm as she continued to rub gentle circles onto your back, you hadn’t realized how tensed you’d been until muscles you didn’t even know you had started going lax. 

Whatever Nesta was doing, it was working. So you basked in the comfort her touch provided and listened.

“Someone taught me how to acknowledge those thoughts and let them go. To breathe, and still everything else in my mind, and let my mind think those things, but to not dwell, because that dark self loathing didn’t define me.”

The dark self loathing didn’t define you. Her words chipped at something that had been left festering for far too long. Had that been it all along, that terrible voice in the back of your head, had it been self loathing?

“Give yourself permission to feel, acknowledge it, and let it go.”

And it was so liberating, giving a name to what had been festering under your skin. Hate. Disgust. Cowardice. You cried, but not the agonized, tortured type of wails that had crippled you moments ago. This was a release, the type of ugly cry you do when something you didn’t know was broken starts to heal.

You hated yourself. And that was okay, because as you waited for that awful voice to mock you, it never did. You hated yourself, wept so hard you thought your eyes were going to fall out of your skull, but you had never felt lighter.

Nesta found your hand, gentle at first as if giving you time to pull away. Then she held onto you like the simple touch could convey what you were worth to her. “You are the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break you.” She whispered, but the words resonated like she had shouted them at you.

The smile started as a small twitch at the corners of your mouth, but you knew Nesta saw it all the same. You searched for that dreadful voice, waited for it to speak something dreadful, but the quip never came. The smile that bloomed on your cheeks was wide with astonish.

You couldn’t believe it, after 300+ years of letting that nasty voice ruin you, there was peace. In its place was something new and bright.

Hope.

XxXx

The sound of beating wings announced the arrival of Cassian and Azriel a moment before the weight of their landing sent vibrations through the hard stone of the staircase. The two hulking Illyrian warriors made quick work of the walk up the stairs, their casual conversation trailing off once they were within earshot of you and Nesta.

“Ness!” Cassian’s voice boomed in greeting, cheery and boisterous, “I see why you asked for me to bring Azriel now. Here I thought you were acting on your ‘secret’ fantasies finally. The location left something to be desired, but I wasn’t going to be picky.”

Nesta sat shoulder to shoulder with you, so close, you felt her stiffen at Cassian’s offbeat comment. If you weren’t so drained, you’d be cross with her for summoning more witnesses, but the idea of having to walk back up all those steps upset you far more. The adrenaline high from your anxiety had long worn off, and without its numbing effect, you weren’t sure if you could even stand without your legs wobbling.

Nesta sighed, deep and long suffering, but affectionate nonetheless. “Your inability to read the room will always astound me.”

“Good thing we’re outside, there is no–” Cassian’s breath hitched, now close enough to get a good look at your downcast expression, haggard appearance, and odd attire. You were careful to keep your emotions under control, unwilling to let anyone in the Inner Circle see you in such a vulnerable state. Years of cautious composer, wasted, all because of a meeting that lasted less than 30 minutes. You expected disapproval, your emotions had only been met with ridicule in the past, but the apparent emotions flying across Cassian’s face were anything but cold.

Worry. Guilt. Unease. Cassian’s emotions were so boldly displayed, you didn’t need your powers to disconcert them.

Cassian paused in his ascent as he looked you over for injury, but Azriel closed the distance in the time it took you to blind away the tingle of the latest round of tears. Their concern was almost palatable, and being shown that type of care felt too good to be real. 

These males had no reason to care so much, Nesta had no tangible reason to care so much. You were so… you, so replaceable and plain. You breathed through the thought, let it roll over you, maybe that was why they cared so much, because you are you. It had never occurred to you that you were someone worth caring for. Not when your own father never cared. Certainly not after Rhysand gave you the ultimatum to get useful or get out.

You are the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break you. Nesta’s words repeated in your head, sending a zing of determination down your spine. 

“What happened? Are you hurt?” Azriel crouched down, his chest siphon reflecting the late afternoon sun. His questions made you feel queasy, but his presence soothed over you like a balm. This male simultaneously was the person you worried about disappointing most, and the person you felt most safe being vulnerable around.

Unlike with Nesta, you didn’t struggle with facing Azriel. He was inspecting the grime covered scrapes on your bare toes. “Where are your shoes?” He asked you, puzzled as he then took note of your sweat soaked bra, “and your shirt?”

A dark look passed over him, if his shadows could withstand the direct sunlight, you were sure they’d be writhing around you. He spoke your name like a whispered prayer, desperate. His gloved hands hesitated as he reached out to cup your face, only smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks when you didn’t jerk away, “please look at me,” and you did, meeting his amber eyes as he wiped remnant tear stains from your cheeks, “Did someone try to hurt you?”

You knew what he meant, but your explanation caught in your throat. A brief moment of shame overwhelmed you, because here you were blubbering over some harsh words from your High Lord, when people suffered far worse fates than your own every day. Azriel began to tense, an icy cold rage taking form as he mistook your silence as an affirmative.

You shook your head ‘no’, hating the troubling turmoil you had unintentionally sowed in him. His shoulders sagged, the sign of his relief so slight, many would have missed it. It was all it took for the remaining threads of your thin composure to snap.

Azriel all but scooped you into his arms as tears blurred your vision, and you crumbled into him, no further prompting needed. He held you so tight, it was like he was trying to hold all your pieces together for you. His wings flared to keep his balance, and maybe later you’d feel sheepish about almost tipping him backwards down those unforgiving stairs, but you relished in the comfort his strength brought you.

“I-I was–It was–” You couldn’t string the sentence together, “We were…I was–” you tried again but your breathing was off, your thoughts all jumbled, and Blessed Mother, you couldn’t do it again. Any words you’d thought about trying to say morphed into sobs, barely audible, but you couldn’t hide the way your body shook with them.

“Rhysand happened.” Nesta asserted, sparing what was left of your dignity by cutting off your senseless stuttering. She summarized the meeting, but touched on the major points that had triggered your anxiety. She was gentle with the recollection of your part in the meeting, scathingly critical of Rhysand. 

“When I left Rhysand’s office, The Morrigan was getting in his face, and as much as I would have loved to see how that went down, it felt wrong to not check in with you.” Nesta explained like she was coming clean, “ I asked the house where you were.”

It was about as close to an apology you’d ever get from Nesta. You knew from experience that Nesta took her time warming to people, preferring to mind her business and stay out of Inner Circle drama. Once she’d made an offhand comment about being the center of the drama enough to last her the rest of her fae lifetime.

Keeping your head rested on Azriel’s shoulder, you turned your face to the side so your voice was less muffled, “Thank you,” your words carried on the wind, paper thin, frail, but so heartfelt, “for following me.”

Nesta didn’t respond, and you didn’t dare look at her out of fear of getting weepy again. But you felt it all the same, a shift in the relationship between the two of you. Like a bridge branching out, a new understanding solidified in place, and you knew Nesta had felt it too.

You shifted in Azriel’s arms, intending on testing your strength, but his arms tensed to keep you in place. In one graceful movement that had your head spinning, Azriel stood up right, adjusting to support your weight in a bridal hold.

“How about we get you home and clean you up?” Azriel suggested, loud enough for the others to hear, but the question aimed at you.

Home. As in the apartment you shared with Mor. He had called Velaris your home.

Your heart gave a painful throb, all choked up again at the sentiment. Going home sounded like the most splendid thing in the whole world in that moment. You didn’t want to think about Rhysand or Hewn City anymore, you wanted to go home so much it hurt.

There was some rustling, Cassian coming to stand near Nesta. “Wanna race me back up to the house?” His words were muffled as if his lips were pressed into the crown of Nesta’s head. “Winner gets head.”

The swift resounding slap Cassian received almost made things seem normal.

“Are you two good?” Nesta ignored Cassian’s taunting, and you nodded at the same time Azriel responded with, “Yes, I’ve got her.”

A beat passed in silence, all four of you waiting to see if anyone added anything else. Then rapid footsteps took off up the stairs, and you popped your head up from the crook near Azriel’s underarm to see Nesta sprinting up the stairs.

“Hey!” Cassian bellowed, charging after her, “cheaters never prosper, Nesta!”

“Prove it, you overgrown bat!”

If you weren’t about ready to pass out from exhaustion, you would have laughed at their antics. Azriel was watching them, an unguarded fondness in his hazel eyes you rarely got to see. The two of you stayed like that, Azriel watching his friends, you committing his soft expression to memory. By the time Azriel glanced down to you, Cassian had overtaken Nesta’s lead, their figures dots in the distance.

You were a melted puddle of female in his arms, all tension and stress slipping from your muscles as your eyelids drooped. Try as you might, you couldn’t keep your eyes open for another second. Paranoia nagged at you, fear of what you’d see when you finally rested your eyes.

Nothing. Blissful darkness. Peace.

“I’m going to take off now. Loop your arms around my neck and hold on tight, okay? Once we get up high enough, the rest of the flight will be smooth.”

You did as you were told, any other time you would have been a nervous wreck, but you didn’t have it in you to fret. You’d always winnowed with someone, even learning how to land the drop through the wards when Mor winnowed with you to the House of Wind. You’d thought no one had noticed how you avoided the topic, but surprise surprise, Azriel had noticed.

The thought of being up that high in the sky and dropped sure made your pulse spike. Growing up in an Underground City meant your feet were always planted on the ground. So maybe it wasn’t a stretch to claim that you weren’t a fan of heights, you’d never flown with anyone before, but it would make a lot of damn sense.

Your musing was cut short. Azriel launched straight up into the sky, powerful wings effortlessly gaining momentum and speed. You clung to him, hands clasped together around his neck in a death grip, screaming bloody murder the entire ascend. Although you would deny it if anyone asked.

Things evened out once Azriel felt he was high enough, setting a leisure pace towards what you assumed to be the direction of Mor’s apartment. Your eyes were squeezed shut, wind whipping your hair out of what was left of your updo, tossing it across your face.

You must have been quite the sight, if the amusement in Azriel’s voice was any indication. “Are you going to look at the view?”

Your hair was a disheveled mess across your face, the wind burned your already sore eyes when you tried to pry them open. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t keep my eyes open,” It was probably beautiful, but you didn’t want to push your luck, you’d had enough panic attacks for the day, “Luckily, I don’t want to.”

He chuckled. “Next time then.”

Blame it on the fatigue, but you found yourself nodding in agreement. Something you may come to regret when he urges you to fly with him instead of winnowing the next time you travel together.

But maybe it won’t be so bad, if Azriel was the one carrying you. With your eyes closed, ear pressed to his chest, his steady heartbeat lulled the residual tension and anxiety away until all you felt was the security of his arms. You could almost forget that you were hundreds of feet off the ground.

In Azriel’s care, it was easy to relax, he wouldn’t let anything bad happen. It was in that half dozing state, snuggled up as close as you could get to him, that your sleepy mind realized moments like these were the ones you wanted to remember.

Ultimately, Rhysand’s nasty words were a small part of your day. The majority of your time was spent with Nesta, bonding with her in a way you’d never managed previously. Something that would have never happened if Rhysand hadn’t been a dick.

Yeah. You’d much rather remember the day as the Nesta heart-to-heart incident. Or the first time you flew with Azriel.

Drifting into a deeper sleep, you dreamt of the way Cassian’s laughter echoed with joy as he chased after Nesta up the stairs. You dreamt of soaring through the clouds with Azriel, the same fondness you’d seen in his eyes for Cassian and Nesta, but aimed at you.

It may take you the rest of your life, but you would replace all the trauma muddying up your memories with new memories you wanted to remember. New memories filled with laughter, affection, trust, and adventure.

One day at a time. 

Rhysand could go pound sand though.

XxXx

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (coming soon)

A/N: Don't worry the next part is going to be more like the first chapter. There will be like two more chapters sprinkled in that have a more serious tone, but the rest will be fluff, drama, and tomfoolery a plenty. Stay tuned for cheeky Cassian in the next update!!

Tag List: @f4iry-bell @jediknightjana @microwaveallthedemons @olive-main

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @5onedirection5

@brieflyclassymortal @hauntedstudentobservationus

[certainlynotasimp]

OH MY GOD. THE WAY I JUST SCREAMED IN MY PILLOW BECAUSE OF YOUR NEW SUNNY FIC AGDGJAEGAJAVSG ITS SOSOSOS CUTE I CANT BREATHEHEHEHEHE. it got me thinking…sunny and miggy are perfect for the one bed trope 😭😭😭😭😭 just imagine miggy acting like it doesn’t effect him, sleeping in the same bad as sunny. i’m already giggling thinking about it. PLEASE WRITE A FIC ABOUT IT WHEN YOU HAVE THE TIME 😭🙏

As Warm As You.

Miguel O’Hara x Female! Reader

A/N: OMG! Thank you so much for the love and the request! 💕🤍 I personally never read anything from this trope, but I think I made something that can satisfy your fluffy craving😅. But I added some Sunny lore, so maybe this will make up for my ignorance. I’m also sorry it’s kinda short.

A/N: I haven’t seen the movie yet, but this shouldn’t be harmed by it maybe. Also I would like to say that I am using Google Translate for the Spanish phrases I use, so if you are fluent in Mexican Spanish (I think that’s what you call phrases and sayings more common in Mexico.), please comment some criticism my way. Thank you!🤍

Warnings: Trauma, Nightmares, comfort, fluffy bits, One Bed, Miguel is a secret softie, No Use of YN ((Sunny is her nickname, not her name name)), Female pronouns, Google Translate Spanish, Established relationship?

——————-

“Ben?…Ben!”

The little spider’s scream cuts through the screeching sirens. The smog hung around the air as the dying flames stained the sky. Too many flames…Too many places to be at once.

The red staining the dark costume caused bile to build up as the search becomes more desperate.

I have to find him.

The dull pain from nails bending and breaking as the rumble falls around her shaking frame. The choked panting caused the Doctor to find his friend quite easily. His friend desperately searching for something. Someone.

Why can’t I find him?

The question is answered with a patch of dark hair appears under a pile of rumble, the tips stained in red. There was so much…why is there so much…

A howl of pain rings out of the young woman’s throat as she clings to the body, her mentor just steps behind her, helpless as to how he can help her.

No one can help her. Like how no one helped her Ben.

——

A faint flash of orange alerts the sleeping man out of his endless dream. He looks around and doesn’t notice anyone at first. Miguel sighs, his paranoia running wild as he almost thought an enemy broke into his apartment, not that it would be a first. As he lays back down to sleep, a slight drag against the floor brings the hairs on the back of his neck to life.

He may not have a spider-sense, but he certain knew when someone was watching him. His talons burrow at as the sound patters closer to his bed. With out hesitation, he lunges towards the noise, his hands catching the form of an invisible figure as he rams them into the wall. A yelp with a whiff of vanilla and lavender stops him from ripping the invisible person’s throat out.

“Cariño?…” Miguel whispers as he retracts his claws. A faint whimpering emerges from the solid unseen being in front of him as her body materializes in the moonlight. The lines of her spider suit glowing an ethereal green as her mask disintegrates, revealing her tear stained face.

“What are you doing?” His eyebrows furrow as he looks at her suspiciously, despite knowing that she was the only one he knows wouldn’t hurt him. His mind blurs his confusion and frustration as he steps back to allow her to recover from being slammed into the wall. Certainly there wasn’t a big enough emergency that the beloved residential ray of sunshine would leave her room at The Lobby to break into his dimension, and bedroom to come get him.

“You know better than to use the gizmo to…” His scolding comes to a halt when the young woman hugs his figure, burning her head into his firm chest.

His shirt becomes wet with her tears as she sobs. The realization hits him as she whimpers into his touch.

She had the dream again.

No. She had the memory again.

His arms wrapped around her short frame as he buried his nose into her hair. Her scent filled the hole of sorrow her cries burned into him. As he rubs her back, her cries eventually stopped as she pulls away from him, an apology already waiting on her lips.

“I’m sorry, Miggy…it was really bad this time…” She mutters as she tries wiping her tears away as she forces a shy smile.

She felt ashamed for bothering him. Miguel was a busy man and she could have just stayed in her room at The Lobby, but the screams were too much.

His screams were too much.

Miguel doesn’t respond as he heads over to his dresser, pulling open a drawer. His face remaining emotionless as he retrieves a sweatshirt that sparked her familiarity.

The old gray crew neck sweatshirt with a fraying collar and mysterious stains along the sleeves. The old golden initials of NYU were cracked and picked apart due to many trips in the wash and anxious tendencies. A faint blush appears as she remembers the first time she ever saw that sweatshirt, the memory being one of her favorite…it was the first time she felt so warm since that day…

Miguel attracts her attention again when he rolls up the fabric in his hands and forces the neck over her head. Her hair sticking awkwardly as she peers up at Miguel in awe at how caring he was despite his annoyed expression.

“Brazos arriba, Sunshine.” He whispers as he helps her arms through the sleeves. She blindly follows him like a student being instructed. The taller spider stands back as he raises an eyebrow expectantly.

“I appreciate that you enjoy the suit I made you, mi luz.” Miguel states with a slight teasing smile. “But you probably wanna be more comfortable for bed.”

“Oh yea…” The small spider blushes in embarrassment as she disintegrates her suit back into her gizmo device. A shiver travels up her spine as the cold air on her legs, leaving her almost exposed except for the old sweatshirt.

“Now then,” Miguel sighs as he walks back over to his bed and crawls back under the covers. “I have several meetings in the morning, so I need to sleep.”

The little spider shuffles in her spot for a few moments as Miguel closes his eyes, getting ready to sleep again. With a nail between her teeth, the girl heads for the door to go find the couch when Miguel clears his throat. She turns back to look at him when she sees the covers beside him pulled back. Miguel’s open eye glaring at her as he groans. “It would be a lot easier for me to leave in the morning if you are in here and not in my way.”

A warm smile forms on her face as she excitedly comes into his bed. Miguel’s front facing her as his burgundy gaze burns with false annoyance and exhaustion. Miguel sighs as he feels the smaller being’s weight snuggles into his broad chest as expected.

“Thank you, Miggy.” She whispers. Her eyes peering up at him with gratitude and an emotion that only shines for him, his own secret that he will die to keep to himself.

Miguel rolls his eyes as his eyes meet hers, his warm cheeks hidden by the darkness. “Go to sleep, Cariño. You’re gonna need it for training.”

She giggles as she wraps her arms around his waist like a teddy bear. “Sweet Dreams, mi bonita araña..” She mumbles as she closes her eyes. His warmth fills the coldness of her nightmares as sleep draws her to peaceful breaths. Miguel remains frozen for a few moments as he makes sure she is deep in REM sleep before his gaze softens.

His rapidly beating heart acts as her lullaby as he places a kiss on her crown.

“Sweet dreams, mi vida…” He whispers into her scalp as his arms loom around her, acting as her shield before he slips into a sweet slumber in his light’s embrace.

[ficmenrhot]

Finnick’s trauma and comforting him:( /angst/

TW: mentions of forced prostitution and description of some gore and violence, a little bit of self hatred, talking about traumatic events

A/N: to all those survivors and victims of traumatic events, I’m proud of you…and this is a reminder that your loved ones are always willing to listen. Also, this is quite long so buckle up!

————————————

I think it is pretty much common knowledge that Finnick Odair has some deep trauma from his time in the games and past. Although most victors of the Hunger Games suffered the same fate, Finnick was caught in Snow’s grasp too young..too vulnerable. He was forced to participate in the 65th Hunger Games at only 14-to kill others for survival- and when he won, thinking that all the suffering would be over then, he was threatened to become a prostitute at 16, otherwise his loved ones would be slaughtered- in which they did.

Finnick tries so hard to put on a facade in front of the Capitol- when he attends shows and interviews- and he does an amazing job at that. He tries so, so hard to remain strong for you too…to try and convince you that he really is alright by lying that his past no longer haunts him. He wants to assure you that he is stable because he is afraid of becoming a burden to you, afraid to be pushed away or feared by you because of his ‘problems’. The last thing he needs is to have the last person he loves vanish from his life.

However, at times, the stresses and memories just come flooding back to him and he finds himself breaking down.

Sometimes at night, you’ll be awoken by the soft sobs of Finnick crying, and seeing him in that state just absolutely destroys you…as if a thousand knives to your heart.

His back is facing you to avoid having you see his teary face, quietly sniffing into a pillow in his arm. He looks so vulnerable…almost like he’s fourteen all over again, and your heart throbs at the sight of your love- usually so big and strong- breaking down into pieces.

“…F-Finnick, my love?” You whisper ever so softly, sitting up against the headboard as you place a your much smaller hand on his shoulder.

Finnick turns at you, his eyes red and tears welling up at his waterline, long lashes wet and cheeks a little flushed from crying. He blinks, wiping away his tears, voice raspy as he says apologetically,

“Honey….I’m so sorry I woke you up.”

This man. He’s breaking down and he is so selfless that he apologises to you for experiencing valid emotions?!

“Oh Finnick, why are you apologising? It’s not your fault..you know it never is. Was it the nightmares again?” you ask gently with sympathetic eyes.

You have no idea what Finnick had to go through in the Hunger Games or any idea of what it is like to have your body sold but whatever it feels like, you know it must be terrible…so painful and terrible for somebody as strong as Finnick to be shattered. And you wouldn’t even have to think for a second to do anything at all -to kill or to sacrifice your own safety- just to share half of Finnick’s pain….to lift the weighs off his shoulders.

“My love, would you like me to hold you?” It is the least you can offer.

Finnick sniffs quietly and nod, moving closer to you to lay on your chest. Your fingers delve into his golden curls, playing with his hair as it is one of your favourite ways to calm him down. The two of you find peace in the silence before you ask softly:

“Would you like to share what happened, Finnick? Or we can talk about it when you feel better and just cuddle back to sleep…whatever you’re comfortable with, my love.”

Finnick is quiet for a few moments before he blinks and rubs at his wet lashes, “..it was…it was another nightmare. I had to kill the last tribute…a young girl from district 11. She was only a few years older than me…forced into the Games too…and I had to k-kill her to win…” His voice cracks as a tear rolls down his cheeks, and you wipe it away with your thumb, nodding as you listen attentively.

“It was terrible…the look on her face when I stabbed her with my trident…I can still remember her shrill screams, the look of betrayal on her face…the way her body thudded to the ground with blood soaking up her wetsuit.” Finnick begins to sob once more.

“Shhh..shhh” you coo, stroking Finnick’s cheeks as you attempt to comfort him.

Finnick shakes his head, breath hitched and uneven as he sobs in your hands, and the heartache of seeing him like this nearly eats you alive.

“I…I’m disgusting…I feel impure….and with what Snow did to me…”

“…the things he made me do…I feel disgusting....”

Prostitution is something you know of Finnick’s past, but it is a topic he has never really opened up on until this moment. You never forced him or questioned him about it because you know it is an event of great trauma to him.

You can only stroke Finnick’s hair to sooth him and hold him tightly in support as he continues, feeling both sympathy and proudness that he is able to open up about this topic.

“No matter how much I try to wash myself, to scrub my skin and submerge myself in soap, I can still smell the sickening scent of Capitol perfumes. Sometimes…I feel sorry that I can’t be a better partner for you sweetheart……and I’m so afraid that you’ll leave me or regret me or feel shameful of me.”

You cup Finnick’s face for him to look at you and there are a thousand emotions visible in your eyes as you speak.

“Are you kidding, Finnick? Look me in the eye when I tell you that I will never regret loving you or feel ashamed of you. I’m so proud to have you as my partner, as my lover, so proud of how strong you are…how strong you remain after the terrible things you had to go through.”

“In fact, my love, I look up to you. You’re my role model Finnick, and if I were in your shoes, I would not be able to handle things half as well as you do. You are kind, amazing, beautiful and definitely not disgusting. Trust me when I say that that is the last thing you’ll ever be. Besides, it wasn’t your choice to kill that tribute, anyone would’ve done the same.”

And with that, his sea green eyes softens, and that smile you’re familiar with finally appears on his face. Dimples when he smiles. You press a soft kiss on his forehead and stroke his hair as the two of you hold each other sleepily, slowly dozing off to a deep slumber. The last words you mutter being:

“I love you, my love.”

“I love you more, honey. And thank you….really.”

——————————————————————

A/N: AHHHH! tell me why I almost cried writing this?! This is my first angst and I think the lost piece I’ve written by far (on this new account). Please like or reblog if you enjoyed this, and follows are most definitely appreciated ;)