#i might fiddle around a bit after work today

[stcries]

the urge i have to rehaul my aesthetic. i've struggled with graphics surrounding my current blog for a while, so maybe a change up is what i need? the only problem is i don't know what to change it to.

[novemberheart]

{overview} Kyle and Johnny make it up to you.

{warnings} cursing, some soapxgaz, very spoiled reader, a bit sappy, you being pretty, female reader, poly 141

Chapter 5 <- Chapter 6 -> Chapter 7

“What’s got you all worked up?” Johnny hummed, sliding in right next to Kyle. Kyle scooched back a bit, chasing the warmth the Scot emitted.

“She already wants to leave.” Kyle whispered, like you would be able to hear them. Johnny curled himself tighter around Kyle, his lips brushing against the back of his neck.

“You need to get out of that head of yours.” He murmured, pressing a kiss against the base of Kyle’s neck.

“No, I’m being for real.” Kyle asserted. “I overheard her talking on the phone with- I think Kate. She thinks we’re using her.” Johnny pressed a hand against Kyle’s shoulder so his back was flat against the mattress. Johnny hovered beside him.

Johnny opened his mouth, but closed it just as quick. He went silent for a moment.

“Shite.” He growled softly, laying so he was half laying on Kyle. Looking back he couldn’t blame you. Of course you felt that way. Forced into a new pack and all they care about is their alpha. They didn’t even bother to make sure you had everything you needed. “Now I feel bad.” Johnny murmured. “Think we can make it up to her tomorrow?” Johnny questioned.

“I have a few ideas.” Kyle muttered back.

You were already awake, showered and dressed by the time there was a knock on your door. You trudged up from the floor- finally beginning to unpack your clothes. You twisted it causing the lock to pop up.

“Morning, Bon.” Johnny greeted.

“Morning.” You did your best to smile, deciding today was a new day. He sat down in the doorway, his legs crossed. You stared at him expectantly.

“How’d you sleep?” He hummed, eyeing the neat bed you had made. You had brought a blanket with you, which made him pleased that you weren’t sleeping with the coarse blankets provided by the government.

“Okay.” You answered, turning back to folding your pants.

“Just okay?” He pressed quickly. You looked away from your work, giving him a sheepish smile.

“I mean I had a bit of a hard time, but this is a new place after all.” You justified. That made his nose bunch up. He could imagine you tossing and turning in your bed, upset and maybe even scared. Out of all of them Johnny was the one that was always pressing for an omega. He would often get jealous in the cafeteria watching as other packs were surrounded by their omegas, especially the packs that didn’t deserve to have one. It was almost a pride thing with Johnny. He wanted everyone to see how good of a beta he was- how good his alphas were and how good of a pack they made. One of the clear signs of that would be a happy omega, and judging by the hint of lemons in your room- they had already failed.

“You alright?” you questioned, noticing the distant wince on Johnny’s face. He snapped himself out of it.

“Aye, Peaches. I'm alright,” he assured. “Kyle and I would like to take you out today.” his demeanor quickly changed his eyes to nervous, like was worried you would reject him. You could quickly feel hope rise in you.

“Really?” you asked, almost hesitantly. “What about Simon?” you reminded him. That was the whole reason you were here right?

“He’ll be fine. Cap, says they're going to get him up and walking today. He wouldn't want you to see him stumble around anyway.” Johnny explained.

“Alright.” you agreed. ‘Don't sound too happy’ you reprimanded yourself. “Is what I'm wearing fine?” you added.

“Might break a few necks, but it'll do.” Johnny winked down at you as he stood. “How about we go eat some breakfast, then head out.” he extended his hand to help you up and you quickly took it.

After breakfast the three of you went on the hunt for a suitable vehicle to steal for your outing. You ended up with an SUV. Johnny and Kyle both raced to open the door for you, Kyle won.

“What music do you like, Bon?” Johnny questioned, resting over the center console to fiddle with the radio.

“I listen to a bit of everything,” you responded. It was weird but sharing your favorite music sounded a bit too vulnerable after just meeting someone. “Can you tell me where we’re going now?” you pressed on. Smirks spread across their faces. Kyle's eyes flickered from the road to glance at you in the passenger seat. The excited look on your face makes him hope they won't let you down- again.

“Well, we felt bad about yesterday being your first day. So we figured today could be a do-over. Aquarium then lunch?” Kyle explained, causing you to beam even further. “Then we figured we could stop at the store and pick up anything else you might need. Snacks, shampoo”-

“Underwear,” Johnny interjected. You giggled, making Kyle rethink slamming on the brakes to make the Scot fly through the windshield.

Johnny was able to open the door for you this time. Each movement both men made seemed to be tailored to you. In the parking lot, they positioned themselves so you weren’t exposed to traffic. In line to get into the aquarium Kyle was in front of you and Johnny behind, their eyes both scanning their surroundings in a way that made you wonder what you should be looking out for.

You made your way through the aquarium, feeling like you had entered a whole other world. Kyle and Johnny took turns pointing out fish that looked like each other. (they only compared you to pretty fish).

“You've ever been to an aquarium before?” Kyle questioned, watching the way your eyes followed every flick of a tail. You pulled your eyes away, softly shaking your head.

“I'm afraid there isn't much I have done.” you sighed, turning back to the crystal water. Growing up your family didn't have much money. Not that you were ever bored. You were a fairly easy child, just enjoying spending time with your parents and taking walks. Then after that, you bounced around omega-holding houses. You quickly shook yourself out of your thoughts.

“Well, we can fix that, peaches,” Johnny smirked, nudging you gently with his arm to move you to the next tank. “We are going to have the best date nights.” he continued, watching you out of the corner of his eye. Your eyebrows rose.

“We can do things like this often?” you asked hesitantly looking between the two men.

“Hell yeah, Bon,” Johnny affirmed. “Well, when we aren't being shipped off somewhere.”

It was a realization that hit you like a bolt of lightning. You hadn't really thought about them leaving since you had arrived. You had thought a bit about it when you had first received their files, but that had always seemed so distant- so far in the future. Now your future was colliding with your present.

You chose to ignore the end of his statement and focus on the positive.

“I think these are my favorite,” you mumbled, too entranced to look away.

“Really, sweetheart? Couldn't tell.” Kyle snickered, the joke going right over your head. The two men watched you stare at the jellyfish tank going on for what was five minutes now. Not an ounce of impatience in their bones. They were too busy taking in the way your eyes were round, your pupils taking up most of the space. The blue light reflecting from your eyes adds a bit more of a twinkle than usual. Johnny had to finally break away after he spent too much time staring at your parted lips. His gaze landed on Kyle. The way he was looking at you mirrored the way you were looking at the jellyfish. He’s sure he looked the same. Kyle broke himself away quickly catching Johnny's eyes.

“We got lucky, aye?” Johnny mouthed, which Kyle agreed to without hesitation.

You were finally able to reel yourself back to reality when your stomach started to growl. Kyle looked at his watch. “Couple hours past noon. Ready for lunch?”

You were about to exit the aquarium, when something caught Johnny's eye, making him pull you into the gift shop. Kyle chuckled, following the two of you. Johnny pushed past little kids with little regard until you finally found what had caught his eye.

A row full of jellyfish plushies.

You were a bit surprised he could see them from all the way by the door.

“Which one do you like?” he beamed at you.

“I don't have any mo”-

“I'll buy. Which one?” he interjected. He looked a bit offended that you expected to buy it yourself.

Your cheeks had been stinging all day from how much you'd been smiling, and this wasn't helping. You looked through them carefully. You didn't want one that was big. A small one would be nice to cuddle with at night. You scanned through red ones, purples ones, orange ones, and rainbow ones till you finally found the perfect one for you. It was plain. A off-white color, but it was the softened fabric you had ever felt. The reason it had caught your attention was its eyes, one of them hadn't been sewn on. Yet the fluffy guy still had a little smile on its face.

“I love this one.” you smiled wickedly, pulling it from its hiding place. Johnny’s brows furrowed.

“It's missing an eye,” he said slowly like he was afraid it would break your heart.

“I know.” you hummed, curling your finger around its little tentacles. “He deserves a good home just as much as anybody,” you affirmed. The two men exhaled rather harshly. It wasn't every day they were exposed to such thoughtfulness. It was their turn to get struck by the bolt or reality. Amidst the hell they were exposed to, would there finally be a little ounce of comfort for them?

“Then let's get the lad home.” Johnny smiled.

You all ended up at a nice Italian place for lunch where you ate more than your weight in breadsticks.

After that, you ended up in a store you had never been to to pick up some essentials you might need- well according to the boys snacks were essential. They gave you no limit and actually encouraged you to pick out things. If you stared at anything- or god forbade touch it- it ended up in the cart. You ended up with two pillows, another blanket, your favorite snacks, your favorite movie, a new pack of socks, some lotion, a sweater, a few clothing items they snuck in, and finally a pair of headphones.

“This is too much really.” you started. It wasn't the first time you had insisted.

“Consider it an ‘I'm sorry’ for a shite first day yesterday,” Kyle assured. You wondered if Kate had said something to them. You doubt she would go behind your back and do something like that. Maybe they came to the realization themselves.

“You sure?” you asked. Kyle quickly nodded his head, a playful smile across his pretty face.

A part of you couldn't wait for Kate to call tonight. You almost wanted everyone you knew to call just so you could rub a little something in their face.

You just hoped you weren't getting ahead of yourself.

This chapter is pretty short, but I hope you liked it regardless! See you in two days for chapter 7! 🧡

[dailypenpen]

Getting "married" to your Genshin / Honkai Star Rail crush!

or when Aether and Lumine have a terrible plan to matchmake you both...

characters: various Genshin Impact and Honkai Star Rail characters! + any characters you want!

notes: school!au, fluff (and a bit of crack), gender neutral reader!! ALSO THIS IS 22K CHARACTERS AND 4K WORDS THIS IS A LONG ONE!!

a/n: I fully intended this to be ambiguous enough so that you can think of any character, though there will be some characters mentioned. Sorry for the long wait LOL. This is inspired by a silly tradition in my old school!!

Today is your annual school fair! There are plenty of booths and stands being held inside the school, and you, Stelle, and Caelus are excited to roam around. From food to party games to haunted houses, all you can think of! This only happens once a year, so you think you should make the best of it.

 

You stuff your face with the different foods offered and try treasure hunting in one of the other classrooms. Caelus had to vomit out his food after he tried to stuff as much as he could in his mouth. You had to stop Stelle from beating up a classmate in one of the haunted classrooms. You feel like a distressed parent with their messy son and chaotic daughter.

 

What a tiring day already...

��

You remember when Lumine mentioned she was going to man a "very special booth," but she didn't disclose any details. You make it your mission to find her booth, walking through the school hallways. Stelle and Caelus left you midway through your journey, distracted by the trash cans near a classroom. You think it better not to call them out; the both of them hissing at anyone trying to take them away from the trash.

 

You sigh. You have weird friends. Might as well continue searching for Lumine's booth.

 

But before you know it, you feel something grab your arm. You turn to see Aether with a huge grin on his face. "Aether, what are you—?" You don't get the chance to finish your sentence because he starts running through the hallways and out of the school building. You're dragged along with him, confusion and panic on your face. Where the heck is he leading you to?

 

You both arrive inside the gym, and now you're more confused. The gym is decorated with balloons and flowers, with an aisle in the middle leading to... an altar? With Lumine in front of it? You stand there even more confused as you watch Lumine give Aether a thumbs up. He runs elsewhere and leaves you with Lumine.

 

You glance down to see that Lumine is wearing a suit and has a book in her hands. "Lumine? What's with the suit? The book?" You take another look around the gym. "The decorations?"

 

She grins. "For your marriage, of course, I'm the officiant."

 

Your jaw almost drops to the floor. "WHAT?! MARRIAGE?!"

"Yep yep, basically how it works is that someone pays for the two of you to get "married". Aren't you excited?"

You sigh. "Who... who am I getting married to?"

 

"Oh, don't worry, Aether is bringing them here right now. You won't have to wait for long."

 

"Who are THEY—?!"

 

You and Lumine turn to the gym doors when Aether slams them wide open, his face now covered in sweat from running around. Beside him, your crush looks around the place, equally as confused as you were when you entered. When they look at you and the decorations and register what's happening, they say...

"I'm sorry I can't do this! I'm not ready for marriage!!"

Instantly panic when they see you. They try to run away, but Aether grabs them by the collar and drags them to the altar. "Oi, oi, where you going?" He brings them to stand before you and sits down on a nearby chair with his arms crossed and a smug smile on his face. Your crush is blushing red, fiddling with their fingers, and refusing to make eye contact with you. Lumine grins deviously.

 

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the union between two lovely souls. As per tradition, you must give each other a kiss on the cheek to seal the deal."

 

They stare at Lumine, dread in their face. Then look back at you, eyes closed and face scrunched up. The blush has spread to their ears, you note. Was it that bad to kiss you? You try to rub your cheek, feeling self-conscious. Honestly, you'd be lying to yourself if you weren't nervous as well. This is your crush! The person that you have the utmost adoration for!

 

They open their eyes, looking anywhere but your face. "I'm— I'm sorry..." they whisper before hesitantly stepping forward, giving you a soft kiss on the cheek. You feel your cheeks heat up as well. Their lips are much softer than you imagined. They quickly break the kiss, staring at you with wide yet... expectant eyes. You give them a kiss on the cheek, and they instantly explode. Stuttering and stammering over their words as they try to process that you gave each other a kiss, even if it was only on the cheek. You give them a shy smile in hopes that it'll ease their nerves.

 

"Congratulations to the lovely couple!" Lumine closes her book, her eyes sparkling. She leans down to whisper in your ear. "You guys will finally stop uselessly pining over each other now, right? You should give me an award. I had to pay for this union with my own money."

 

You're both grateful and flabbergasted by her methods of bringing the two of you together.

 

"You sound pleased with yourself..." you mumble, and you only get a giggle in return. "Well, obviously, it worked. Modern problems require modern solutions."

 

You huff, "Couldn't you matchmake us in a less obscure way? Did you make this marriage booth just for this reason?" 

 

"To be fair, I also wanted to see some more couples get "married" here. Not just you, you dumbass."

 

You open your mouth to retort before you feel a tug on your sleeve, and when you turn to look, it's your crush. Huh, they must have stayed quiet when you and Lumine were arguing. They're blushing so hard, and their face incredibly red. It's even reached their ears, you muse. It's incredibly adorable how you've made them such a mess. You're such a good kisser; you should pat yourself on the back.

 

"Uh..." Once you look at them, they look away again. Their hold on your sleeve tightens as they take a deep breath. They finally look at you in the eye, their eyebrows furrowed and their lips trembling. 

 

"I... that silly ceremony made me realize my feelings for you, as weird as it sounds. So, uh... instead of spouses, can we... date first? Please? That is... if you also like me back."

 

— Chongyun, Gorou, Freminet, Ganyu, Xiao(?), Gepard, + ur shy favs!

"Oho, you'll be my spouse from now on? It'll be a pleasure." 

 

Smug look on their face, leaving Aether's side as they walk towards the altar where you and Lumine are. He blinks in surprise. "That makes my job easier then." Aether goes to sit down on his chair, drinking some water as he wipes his sweat. Lumine scoffs. "You guys aren't married yet, you idiot. Wait a bit more." You can't even say anything back, stammering over your words as you try to process how they're so calm about this. Surely this doesn't mean they also...?

 

They roll their eyes at Lumine. "Must you ruin the fun? You are the officiant, aren't you?" They cock their head to look at you, a smirk on their face. "So when am I going to marry this beaut in front of me?" You feel your cheeks flush at their compliment. Why must they flirt with you in every opportunity they get...?

 

Lumine groans, closing her book with a loud thud. "We are gathered here today; yadda yadda, just do a kiss on the cheek and we'll be done." 

 

They raise an eyebrow at that. "Just a kiss on the cheek? Aren't you supposed to kiss on the lips in an actual ceremony?" Before either you or Lumine can protest, they pull you flush against their chest. Leaning towards your face, your lips barely inches apart. "Why not honor tradition?" One hand goes to stroke your hair, and you can feel yourself explode into an embarrassed mess when they do. You feel even more flustered now, the words unable to escape from your lips. "I..."

 

"Oh..." You turn your head to see Lumine grinning, her eyes dancing with glee. "I'll leave you two alone then. C'mon, Aether," she calls out to him. "Let's find the next couple after them." Aether nods before looking at the two of you with a grin similar to Lumine's. "Good luck." 

 

"You traitors—" You scowl at them as they both walk away.

 

You feel a hand on your chin as it pulls you to face them. They're staring deep into your eyes, the corners of their lips twitching when they see your cheeks flush again. You can feel their breath on your skin, and you think you might just melt in their hold. They tilt your head, leaning even more closely. "... say something if you don't want this," they say with surprising softness. You didn't expect that kind of gentleness from them; you can feel your heart fluttering in your chest.

 

You open your mouth, then close it again. A part of you screams not to say anything. You nervously close your eyes, your lips twitching with anxiety. You can hear them chuckling lowly. You feel their hand around your waist tighten. The next thing you feel is their lips on yours. It's soft and gentle as they ease you into it.

 

A hand goes behind your head to pull you closer, and now you feel the desperation within their kiss. They're a bit too eager now that they know you're comfortable with all this. You feel yourself melting to the ground as your knees start to buckle, but they hold you tighter in their hold and kiss you even further. You try your best to reciprocate by placing a hand against their chest as you lean towards them. They emit a pleased noise, squeezing you tighter.

 

The two of you eventually separate, gasping for air. "Hope you enjoyed it, my dear spouse," they say with a sickening smirk on their face.

 

They lean toward you once more, and you think they're going to kiss you again. But instead, they softly speak to your ears. Their voice tickling your ears.

 

"Darling, how about we rendezvous out of here? Kissing in the middle of the school gym is hardly romantic. I'd like to kiss my spouse in a place more befitting us two. Maybe we can even discuss some... other things about us."

 

- Ayato, Childe, Kaeya, Lyney, Heizou, Venti, Wriothesley, Sampo, + ur flirty favs!

 "We are to be married today, are we not? Let's not make everyone wait."

 

Do they think this is actually real? You ask yourself as they wordlessly approach the altar. Aether tries to hold back a laugh, sitting down on his chair. Your crush looks at you with a thoughtful expression, making you feel very small in their gaze. Jeez, why are they so formal about this?

 

Lumine breaks the silence with an awkward cough, opening her book. "...we are gathered here today to celebrate the union between two lovely souls..." Is she flustered that they're taking this seriously? You stifle a laugh.

 

"As per tradition, you must give each other a kiss on the cheek to seal the deal." Your crush hums in thought, looking at you with an even curiouser look. Lumine is looking at the two of you in anticipation, not bothering to hide her giddiness. Aether lazily looks from the sidelines.

 

"Isn't it supposed to traditionally be a kiss on the lips?" You might die on the spot. They want to kiss you ON THE LIPS? You pinch your hand, trying to ground yourself. No no, they're probably just thinking this is a real marriage. They probably have the wrong idea or something, surely!

 

"You want it on the lips?" Lumine grins, wide and almost cat-like. "I'd be ok with that, too." You almost screech, resisting the urge to shake her by the shoulders. What the hell is she thinking of? You can't just casually kiss your crush on the lips just because of this stupid fake ass marriage ceremony—

 

"That would be ideal, yes." They look at you with a small smile on their face. At that moment, you can see their eyes shining with joy. Your heart skips a beat. God, how can they easily say such smooth things without thinking? Your weak heart can't take it.

 

You laugh, nervously trying to back away, but Lumine pushes you forward instead. "Aww, don't be shy~ Do you want me and Aether to leave so that you can have your privacy?" What a terrible shit-eating grin she's wearing on her face. You wish you could smack it out of her.

 

"You—" Glaring at her only makes her grin wider than before. You go to shake her by the shoulders, but you feel someone grab your hands. You look, and your crush is looking at you with intense eyes. Immediately, your cheeks flush, not expecting such an intense stare. "U— uh... How can I help you today?" That earned you a laugh from them. They lean forward, their eyes focused on your lips. Their hair tickles your cheeks.

 

"We have to kiss to complete our marriage." You almost choke on your saliva. They grip your hands tighter. "Do you not want this?"

 

You hear Lumine whistle lowly, and from the corner of your eyes, you can see Aether and her exit the gym. You can envision both of their smirks, and you feel your face turn red from the thought. You murmur, looking at your crush with shy eyes. "Do... do you really want to kiss me? You do know this is a... fake marriage."

 

They stare at you in confusion before chuckling lowly. God, their laughter feels like smooth honey. You think you can listen to that laugh a million times and never get tired of it. It's basically heaven to your ears. They move their hands to intertwine with yours, stepping ever so closely towards you. "Of course I know this isn't a real marriage, but I'd like to treat it as one. Won't you indulge me for a little while longer?"

 

"When you put it like that... it's hard to say no."

 

They chuckle again at your words. They lean forward, their lips meeting yours. It's soft, gently kissing you as if you were the most fragile being. You feel them rub circles on your hands, tilting their head to deepen the kiss. Your head feels dizzy, and your mind is consumed entirely by their presence. They've placed themselves further into your soul, seamlessly fitting into a space you've created just for them.

 

They leave your lips first, a look of awe in their eyes. A hand goes up to caress your cheek. They aren't speaking yet, as if the words are lost. You do not say anything either, afraid that you will break this perfect moment with them. Afraid that this might not be real. That the kiss may have meant nothing, only for them to lean their forehead on yours. Whispering ever so softly to you.

 

"One day, I hope that we'll actually be married in the future. Only if you would like it, of course. Before then, would you like us to date? I know I wish it more than anything else."

 

- Albedo, Dainsleif, Diluc, Kazuha, Neuvilette, Zhongli, Argenti, Dan Heng, Jing Yuan + ur formal favs!

"I'm getting married to them?! That's so awesome!!"

 

They enthusiastically leave Aether's side, skips in their steps. Aether coughs into his hand, and you could have sworn you heard a wheeze from him. "Why are you so excited? Most people usually try to run away." He shrugs. "Not that I'm complaining. Means I don't have to run after you."

 

They look at him with an odd look on their face. "Why would I run away from them?" They point at you. "They're like, the best person in the world." You blush instantly. Jeez, can't they spare you the embarrassment? That's something you'd love to hear from your crush in any other circumstances. But not here! Not with Aether and Lumine watching you!

 

"Hey! Come over here!" Lumine waves. "Don't keep your future spouse waiting!"

 

"Wouldn't want to for the world!" They hurriedly go to the altar, stars in their eyes as they look you up and down. They're very smiley, you note. And it's like the excitement is waiting to burst out of their body cause their entire being is trembling. Desperately trying to hold back. That gives you great hope that they might like you back! Not just as a friend!

 

Lumine sighs with relief, starting her speech, "We are gathered here today—" They don't even give her a chance to continue, as they wrap you in a big hug. You squeak in surprise. What the—you didn't expect this to happen?!

 

"Oh man! We're married now, aren't we?" They look at you, expectant and eager for an answer. Lumine coughs, "I... I haven't finished my little speech." You hear Aether snort somewhere you can't see, not with your crush blocking your field of vision. "You're too excited to marry them. Calm down, will you?"

 

They loosen their grip on you, still caging you in their arms. "Who wouldn't be excited to marry them?" Any words you would have said fall out of your mouth like a violent waterfall. You unwillingly stammer your next words, unable to process all this. "W—why... are you so excited to marry me?" 

 

They look at you with unblinking eyes. Utter confusion on their face. "Because I like you silly!" They engulf you in a hug again, nuzzling their head on your shoulder. "You're my favorite person ever!" You feel your cheeks flush again as you shyly hug them back. They acknowledge this by squeezing you a bit, a happy hum coming from their mouth.

 

"Well... whatever." Lumine sighs, and you wriggle out of the hug to see her expression. She doesn't look very smug with this arrangement. More of... relieved? "Congrats on the happy marriage, haha."

 

Your crush beams, looking at you with a lovestruck face. "You're my spouse now... I guess dreams do come true. This is the best day, ever." 

 

You giggle, your hand going up to stroke their hair. "Can we be partners first? I think spouse is still too far into the future." They pout at your words, huffing lightly. "What if I can't wait? I want us both to be married." You think they're adorable with that expression as you ruffle their hair. They don't seem to mind what you're doing.

 

"Can't you wait just a bit for me?" You grin at them. "I want us to take it slow and steady. I want to date you first." Your crush contemplates your words, seriously considering them. Then they speak with determined eyes.

 

"For you... I'll wait however long it will take. Even if it takes decades, I'll always love you, no matter what! So get ready for my love! I'll love you so much your heart will burst!!"

 

- Bennett, Itto, Hu Tao, Yoimiya, March 7th, Guinaifen, Luka, + ur energetic favs!

"What is this nonsense? I'm not having any of it."

 

There's a scowl on their face, irritation evident in every part of the expression. They turn to leave, but Aether grabs the back of their collar. "Nuh uh, you shouldn't abandon your spouse to be. Haven't you heard all those horror wedding stories?"

 

"What?" They look at him like he's grown a second head. "Are you sick in the head or something?" Aether sighs, dragging them to the altar. Your crush tries to fight at first, but eventually relents. Huh, you note that Aether's grip on them is probably strong.

 

Before long, your crush stands before you. They observe you, squinting their eyes as they take in your appearance. You feel so small, with sweat forming on your forehead. Do they dislike you or something? You hope not; your heart wouldn't recover from that. But you tell yourself this is how they're always like to hopefully ease your mind.

 

"We are gathered here today!" Lumine says with great earnestness. "To celebrate the union between two lovely souls..."

 

"Lovely?" They glance at Lumine, then back at you. "I'm not sure that's how you're supposed to describe them." Oh, the audacity! You grit your teeth. They're lucky they're attractive (especially in your eyes), or else you would have gone violent.

 

"Oh, shut up. Don't say that to your spouse." Lumine berates them. They roll their eyes at her. "And as per tradition, you must give each other a kiss on the cheek to seal the deal."

 

You swivel your head toward Lumine, shock on your face. A kiss? From them?! And you give them your own as well?! You point at them, mouthing your thoughts to Lumine. She only gives you a closed-eyed smile with a thumbs up to match. You feel your face heat up with embarrassment.

 

Your crush clears their throat, redirecting your attention to them. "Are you two quite done? Let's just get this over with; this isn't even a real marriage." They walk towards you, narrowing their eyes as they see you panic when they draw closer. "Wait, wait! I'm not ready!"

 

"Don't care," they say. Even when they say that, they gently yet firmly hold you by the shoulders. They give you a kiss on the cheek, and you feel like you're short-circuiting. You can't even fathom that they just did that! Out of their own accord! Without Lumine directly forcing them!

 

When they release you, they take a look at your flustered expression. The corner of their mouth twitches as they flick your forehead. "Where's my kiss? Isn't it supposed to be mutual?"

 

You try to speak, but you only manage to sputter out, "I—you—me? Why?" From your side, Lumine wheezes at your pathetic attempt at being coherent. And right in front of you, your crush sighs heavily. They look so disappointed. Wait—why do they look disappointed? It doesn't make any sort of sense.

 

"...because that's the rule of this stupid marriage booth, idiot." You hear them murmur, "And also because I can. Now why don't you reciprocate?"

 

Hesitantly, you give them a short peck on the cheek. You think you see them frown when you break away, but your mind must be imagining things. Surely they didn't want you back, right? You must be hallucinating a lot today...

 

"Congrats on your marriage!" Lumine says with enthusiasm, patting both of your backs. "Now, go forth, my friends! No longer shall you two aimlessly assume that one of you doesn't have feelings for the other!" Aether grins from his chair. "Please, spare us. It's tiring to see you two like that."

 

Your crush glares at the both of them, only earning a sheepish grin from the two. But they turn to look at you, and the glare instantly dissipates. Their eyes are softer than what you're used to, and the corners of their lips twitching again. This time, you understand why it's been twitching so much. They're trying to hold back a smile.

 

They move closer to you, whispering now. In hopes that only you will hear their words.

 

"I think you're more than lovely. You're divine. Don't tell Lumine I said that. But from her words, it's clear you share feelings with me. So how about we end this useless pining? Be my partner, will you?"

 

- Alhaitham, Wanderer, Dr. Ratio, Blade, + ur tsundere favs!

When all is said and done, you owe it to Aether and Lumine for matchmaking you and your—oh God, you finally get to say it! You and your partner! You're giddy from head to toe as you walk through the halls to look for Caelus and Stelle. You have to share the news! They're probably still in that classroom with the trash cans—

 

...and you find them being reprimanded by the principal. They're both covered in trash. You liken their appearance to a sad racoon video you once saw. Pitiful and wet.

 

They notice you from the corner and immediately cry out in joy. Wait why are they both rushing towards you? Oh God, no! Don't come closer you two are—

 

Ah. What a lovely time of the year. School fairs are memorable for all the good reasons.

 

You need to scrub yourself really hard tonight. You hope it won't be a permanent memory.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated!! Also please do NOT steal or plagiarize this. Or else I will replace your loved ones Mandela Catalogue style 👹

[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

I'll Be Home for Christmas - Bob

Pairing: Bob / Female!Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Some Crying and Slight Angst; No Physical Descriptions of Reader; Reader is a Teacher; Use of "You" but No Y/N

Summary: Bob promised you that he would be home for Christmas.

Master List

Dating a naval aviator wasn’t easy. Bob's schedule was erratic and never usually worked in their favor. He could be in one place one day and a completely different continent the next or out in the middle of the ocean. And it wasn’t easy to communicate with him when he was deployed. Emails and letters were about all you could usually manage. 

For Bob, you would do it all over again to keep him in your life. But that didn’t make the holiday season any easier. 

Bob, along with the other Daggers, had been deployed for the last six months. Somewhere in the Pacific, that was all that you knew. He told you that they would be docking today and so you waited outside the school where you worked, anxiously waiting for his call. The call about whether or not he would be home in time for Christmas or not. 

Fiddling with the necklace that he bought you for your one year anniversary nearly three years ago now, you sucked in a breath when your phone started to ring. The photo of you and Bob on the hike you took on his birthday last year.

“Bobby?” you called softly, answering the call. 

“Hi, honey,” he returned, his voice sounding clearer than it usually did on these types of calls. “How are you?”

“Better now that I’m talking to you,” you replied, smiling bashfully. “What about you?”

“Exhausted.”

“What time is it over there?”

“Pretty late.”

“Well, thanks for staying up to talk to me,” you stated, a bit concerned about Bob. He was uncharacteristically short with his sentences. “How’s Phoenix and the boys?” 

“We’re all good.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Did you get the care package that I sent you?” you asked softly, fiddling with your necklace.

“Oh, yeah, I did, Honey. Thank you for sending it.” 

“Did you send a video over to Leslie? She was putting a movie together for the kids.” 

“Yeah, I did, Honey. She’s got it.” 

“Thank you for doing that. The kids will really appreciate it.” After a moment of silence on the other end of the line, you asked, “Are you okay, Bobby?”

“I’m fine,” Bob replied, his voice cracking a bit. 

“Bobby.”

“Honey, I’m . . . I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I'm not sure that I’ll make it home in time for Christmas,” Bob revealed, causing your heart to shatter in your chest. 

“It’s okay, Bobby. It’s not your fault. There’s always other holidays.”

“I’m so sorry, Honey. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“Don’t worry about me. Just focus on coming home safely. Whenever that is.”

“I will. I love you so much.”

“I love you too. And I really miss you,” you replied, your voice breaking at the end. 

“I really miss you too. And I’m so sorry, Honey.”

“Stop apologizing, Bobby. Just come home safe and that’s good enough for me. I love you.”

“I love you too. Bye, Honey.”

“Bye, Bobby.”

Hanging up the phone, you sniffled and wiped your tears away. You let out a steadying breath, trying to calm yourself down, before grabbing your bags and heading inside the elementary school where you worked. 

It was the last day of school before Christmas Break and so, it was your class’s Christmas party. You got to school early to set up, but now you might need to use the time to gather yourself. Opening the cabinet, you smiled sadly at the photos of Bobby that you put up. Hanging up your coat, you wiped your tears away and quickly moved to start setting up. 

~~~~~

Meanwhile, just a few miles away from your school, Bob was holding his head in his hands, looking like he was going to be sick. The other Daggers were gathered around him, all having returned home just a short while earlier. 

“He’s this beat up about it?” Hangman sighed, leaning on the car. “All he did was a little lie.”

“It’s a wonder that you’re still single,” Phoenix replied dryly, shooting him a look. 

“I made her cry,” Bob whispered out quietly as Fanboy patted his back. 

“She’ll get through it, Bob. And you only had to lie to her for a couple hours,” Fanboy reasoned, motioning for the other Daggers to speak up. 

“She’ll forget all about it once she sees you,” Phoenix replied, looping her arm under Bob’s and pulling him to his feet. “Now,  come on, we’ve got some shit to do before the big reveal.”

~~~~~

“One, two, three, eyes on me!” you called, clapping on the numbers and then pointing at yourself. When you saw that all of the kids were looking at you, you added, “Alright, do you guys remember when we made those care boxes? For the service men and women?” 

Various kids shouted out that they did remember, causing you to nod and smile. Since you worked in a Navy town, many of the kids in your class had parents or other family members in the Navy. The care packages had been a personal project that you decided to bring to your class, since you knew that a lot of the kids would be in a similar position as you—wishing that someone that they loved so much came home for Christmas. 

“Alright, well, Ms. Sullivan put together a video of them opening the boxes that we put together. So, if everyone could sit in their seats quietly, we’ll start the movie.”

You dimmed the lights before the video started up and slowly sat in your seat, waiting for Bob’s video to pop up. Kids in your class would yell out when they saw their family member, which made your heart both swell and break at the same time. The video continued on until Bob’s familiar face appeared on the screen. 

“Hi, everyone,” he called, waving to your class. 

“It’s Mr. Bob!” one of your kiddos yelled out. 

“Yeah, it’s Mr. Bob,” you mumbled sadly before you paused, frowning slightly as you examined the video more closely. “Is that the cafeteria?”

“What?” Ms. Sullivan asked, trying to hide her smile. 

“That’s the cafeteria,” you stated, getting to your feet. 

Walking up to the screen, you scrutinized the image of your boyfriend as he pulled out the items from the box, including ones that you definitely didn’t put there. Confused, you turned to Ms. Sullivan when the door opened and the lights turned back on. 

Looking at the door, you spotted Bob standing there in his flight suit, beaming at you with such a loving smile that your knees wobbled. Choking out a sob, you sprinted over to your boyfriend, causing your kiddos to scream and cheer. You wrapped your arms around him, sobbing tears of joy as he pulled you to his chest. 

“It’s Mr. Bob!”

“He came from the video!”

“What are you doing here?” you cried, fisting the back of his flight suit. “I thought that you couldn’t come home.”

“I’m sorry, Honey, but I lied. Can you forgive me?” Bob asked, rocking you back and forth. 

“Of course, I forgive you,” you choked out as Bob wiped your tears away. You snuck a chaste kiss before straightening up. “I love you so much, Bobby.”

“I love you too, Honey. And I’m really relieved that you forgave me because otherwise this would be really awkward.”

“What are you . . .”

You held a hand to your mouth as Bob slowly got down onto one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket, causing your kiddos screams to reach new heights. Bob opened the box and you swore you almost fell to your knees. He looked at you with those big blueberry blue eyes, which were filled with so much love and devotion.

“Will you marry me, Honey?”

“Say ‘yes’!”

“You have to say ‘yes’!”

“Of course, I’ll marry you, Bobby,” you replied softly.

He stood up and you pulled him in for another chaste kiss that promised more when there weren’t thirty-five six-year-olds staring at you. He slid the ring onto your finger, where it would stay forever. Turning to your kiddos, you laughed and tried to wipe your tears away as they raced towards you guys. Bob squatted down again, accepting high fives and a few hugs, which only made you fall more in love with him. 

As if that was even possible. 

School was released shortly afterwards and after cleaning up the Christmas decorations and Bob hauling stuff out, the two of you walked out to your car. The Daggers told you that everyone would celebrate your engagement tomorrow, but tonight, it was just you and Bobby. 

“I told you that I’d be home for Christmas,” Bob replied, opening your door for you. 

“You did,” you agreed, pressing a less appropriate kiss to his lips. “And I think that the only time you’ve ever successfully lied to me.”

“And the last,” Bob promised, pressing another kiss to your lips. “Merry Christmas, Honey.”

“Merry Christmas, Bobby.”

[lookingfxryou]

Souvenirs

Notes: sort of a continuation of flustered, set in the same universe exploring Giyuu and reader’s idiots to lovers (when?) relationship <3

prev - next

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You were returning back to the headquarters after completing your mission that took two weeks, with your partner, Takuma walking beside you.

You were usually quicker with your missions but the demon you were supposed to hunt turned out to not be one but three of them working together and evading you both for quite some time.

Nevertheless, you were relentless with your pursuit and luckily had Takuma with you, who you had worked with on several occasions and could always count on to have your back. It was strange as you weren’t really friends before this per se but this mission had definitely changed that and you found yourself laughing along with him, heart light and unburdened, looking forward to seeing everyone.

You had souvenirs to give after all!

(And getting your leg looked at properly but that was not important.)

And thus, you merrily made your way to the Butterfly estate, hoping to see Aoi and the girls and maybe Shinobu and Kanao as well if they were not on a mission.

(The small voice in your head, coming from the traitorous part of your heart, wondered who else might be there. If you might be lucky enough to bump into each other.)

Takuma had been hesitant tagging along but promises of good meal and rest won him over easily.

“Hello everyone, I come bearing gifts!” Was the first thing you said as soon as you entered the estate, seeing Aoi and the girls working hard.

They squealed (not Aoi, of course) and made their way to you, asking about your mission and if you were injured anywhere.

“Ah, my leg is a little banged up but nothing too serious — ” your words were cut off by someone placing their hand on your shoulder. Turning around, you came face to face with a smiling Shinobu but you could tell it wasn’t one of fondness.

You laughed nervously as the girls sighed and Shinobu’s grip on your shoulder tightened.

“Inside.”

“Oh, you flirt! Let me rest for a bit first.” You grinned as Takuma facepalmed at your words and the Hashira’s smile widened.

“Seems like you truly are healthy, to be making comments like that.” She lightly kicked the back of your leg and you flinched, losing your balance as your bad leg bent from the force. Kneeling on the ground, you looked up at her, lips pouted in resignation and her smile turned into a smirk, one so subtle that anyone would have missed it.

About half an hour later, after the both of you were examined and treated for your respective injuries, you and Takuma were sitting outside in the garden, surrounded by the girls and Shinobu, giving one last long look, left you to your devices.

“Now that that’s done and over with.” You smiled at the giggles let out by the girls, “It’s time for souvenirs!”

“Looks like you had plenty of free time, if you bought souvenirs for everyone while on the mission,” Aoi said with a disapproving tone but even she had been looking intently at what you were fiddling with in your bag.

You presented them all with bracelets containing a single glass bead braided into it. You chose different colors for all of them and were explaining to them why you got them which, when you were distracted by a figure entering the estate.

That mismatched haori and blank expression had you stumbling over your words and the girls followed your gaze to look at Tomioka Giyuu making his way to the main entrance.

It seemed as if he did not notice you yet.

“Tomiaka-san! What brings you here today?” Aoi’s voice interrupted your thoughts and Giyuu stopped when he noticed you all huddled together.

Tilting his head, he looked at something in his hand before making his way towards your group.

Your cheeks were heating up and god, you missed his pretty face these few weeks that you were away.

“Hello.”

Everyone returned his greetings and you noticed him glancing at the bracelets everyone was holding. It seemed like the girls noticed it too because they excitedly began telling the unbothered Giyuu about the souvenirs you brought them.

Takuma was a front row spectator to all the chaos and your sudden shyness and the wheels in his head began turning. He looked at the stoic Hashira whose blue eyes were flitting between the girls and the bag on the ground.

You, on the other hand, were strangely quiet, eyes never once moving from Giyuu’s face, a small content smile on your lips.

Takuma felt like stirring shit.

He called your name in an exaggerated manner, everyone turning to look at him before pointing at the bag.

“Didn’t you get something for Tomioka-san as well?”

Your eyes widened as you gaped at his audacity to put you on the spot. And he didn’t even know you had a crush on the guy! Were you that obvious?

You looked at Giyuu, to see him already looking at you, his expression betraying nothing but there was a spark of curiosity in his eyes.

“I–well–“ you floundered for words when everyone’s eyes were on you. Maybe Giyuu saw how nervous you were or maybe he took pity on you but he held up his hand, which held a circular container.

“I was here to get my salve replenished, so if you would excuse—“

“No, wait!”

You did bring something for him dammit! But you were hoping to give it to him in a nice, private setting and not in front of a crowd! You weren’t really left a choice though, were you?

Sending a glare in Takuma’s direction, you got up and gingerly held the gift you had picked out for him. Gesturing for him to hold out his hands, you stepped a little closer to him and felt your body shiver in anticipation.

God, you were never this shy in front of him but the eyes boring into your back made you conscious about every little thing that you did.

You put the gift in his outstretched hand and several necks stretched to see what it was. At Giyuu’s slow blink at his palm, you felt as if you should say something.

“I uh, have only ever seen you wearing one so I thought that it might come into use.”

Giyuu brushed his fingers against the braided cord, the color as blue as the ocean, intertwined with a few lighter threads, ending with a nice knot.

No, not like the ocean, he thought. Almost like his–

“And well, you’re the Water Hashira so the blue was…” You really weren’t fooling anyone with your pathetic explanation. It was a clear match with his eyes and his hold on it tightened, touched that you bothered to match the color of a hair tie cord with his eyes, that you took the effort to see him.

“Thank you.” He whispered your name with such softness that you were afraid that the wind will take it away from you, just brushing against your ears. “I will cherish it.”

“You don’t have to do that, just wear it for me sometime?”

Although he didn’t say anything more, you saw the way his eyelashes trembled, saw how he looked at the gift and tried to meet your eyes but failing. You saw the slight reddening of his ears and almost smiled and teased him in victory before your peaceful daydream was shattered by girly giggles.

Oh god, you completely forgot about them.

Immediately, you noticed the way Giyuu straightened up, expression once again neutral but the careful hold on his gift never loosened.

He pocketed it, making sure to keep it safe before meeting your eyes.

You gave him a gentle smile, a thousand words said in that one expression and then promptly turned to scold the girls and Takuma for prying into your business.

He hid his trembling hands by gripping the salve container tightly. You just kept surprising him at every turn. From teasing him to showing him such kindness and attention, he never knew what to expect from you.

A call of his name had him turning to look at Shinobu walking towards them.

“You must be here for your refill. Go on in and one of the healers will do that for you.”

She turned to you and raised an eyebrow.

“Very pretty gifts you’ve gotten everyone. I’m glad you had enough for everyone.”

“No, wait! I have one for you—“

— bonus!

Giyuu had his hair down and was staring at the hair tie you got him.

There was no rational reason that he was doing this, he had a perfectly fine hair tie that had served him all this time. For all intents and purposes, he didn’t need one.

Then why were his hands automatically grasping his hair and tying them with the blue cord, the color more visible against his black hair than his previous one.

He didn’t have a mirror in his room so he had no way of knowing how it looked but the warmth in his chest spreading all over his body, reaching his fingertips and cheeks let him know it suited him all the same.

[durrtydawg]

Look, Don't Touch.

(Sam Drake x F!Reader smut) 3rd person

CW: It's smut, it's sex polleny, and it's got a big, fat, dubcon warning. Also a bit of angst, hurt/comfort, internal conflict, etc etc. For detailed tags, please check out ao3, as funnily enough, I literally cannot add any more text into this post 😛

Masterlist

This is long. Horrendously long. Like... *18,000 words* or so, so I don't want to hear any yapping if you click 'read more' and don't actually want to read. Dare I say, quantity over quality? Sorry to those that wanted this split into parts, but honestly... I couldn't make it work, so here we are. Regardless, I hope someone out there enjoys this!! It's been my baby for a while, and whilst not the best thing I've written, I need to let it go before I, too, become a reprobate by force x

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

“In the wake of the Second World War, the elusive Polish alchemist Dariusz Cassimir left behind a legacy shrouded… ooo… in mystery. Hmm. Shrouded is a fun word.”

“Big door. Ominous etchings. Doesn’t get more ‘shrouded in mystery’ than that. This has gotta be it.”

“O-kay… But how do we get in?”

She shrugs, turning back to him with a raised brow. “Oh, I don’t know, Sam, maybe the huge lever right next to said mysterious door?” She purposely targets her flashlight at his face, making her way over to the lever. He swats her with the notes in his hand.

“Okay,” Sam sniffs, striding ahead with a crack of the knuckles after he fixes his own torch to his belt, “‘Cause of the attitude, I get to open it.” He grins sarcastically, making sure to gently nudge her shoulder as he passes, thrusting the papers he was reading from into her hands.

Her eyes roll, but she finds the cockiness endearing- and he knows it.

“Known for his work in chemical weapon and explosives development throughout the Great War, and the start of the Second, Cassimir's true genius lay in the shadows, where he conducted secretive experiments with potions, remedies, and poisons, yada yada… yeah, right.”

She continues reading out from where he left off as Sam checks around the lever for any dodgy set-ups that might send the two of them plummeting into an inescapable pit, falling victim to some sort of horrific creature ready to maul the two of them to death, or perhaps crushed by a flurry of falling boulders, etcetera, etcetera. No death trap is too garish in this line of work.

“Oh. Listen to this. Ahem. Despising intrusion into his work, Cassimir was rumoured to eliminate those who stumbled upon these experiments without permission.” She hums. “So, not only was this guy insane, but he was a murderer too- hey, be careful with that lever, please... I don’t want a repeat of the Tuscan trap door incident.” She sighs, fingernails trepidatiously digging into the straps on her backpack as he braces his hands against the lever.

“Still not over that, huh?” Sam snorts, turning back to her with an arrogance-tinged smirk as she grimaces, folding the paper and stuffing it into her jacket pocket.

“My ankle isn't.”

He scoffs. “Every possible trap we’ve come across today has either rotted itself out of action or has been destroyed by some other poor bastard that got here before us. Besides,” He stamps a boot against the ground to prove his point, “It’s a dense stone floor. I don’t think trap doors are a cause for concern here.”

“Famous last words.” She murmurs as he pulls on the lever, a soft grunt signalling that it takes more effort than initially predicted. “You sure you don't want to find another way in before you start fiddling with- nope? Okay.”

“What’s…the worst…” he pauses, re-positioning himself to give a little more force to the lever, “that could- Ow, Jesus!” He cuts himself off with a hiss of pain as the lever finally gives and he stumbles upright, wincing.

“Aw. Too much strain on your big, strong, man muscles?” She questions teasingly as Sam glares at his hand, flexing his fingers with a frown.

“The damn thing pricked me.”

A sudden deep rumble through the ground prevents her from quipping back as both of their attention is now taken by the stone wall in front of them slowly sliding to the side with a wince-worthy scrape.

“It’s always fascinating how something so archaic can still be so…mobile.” Sam says inquisitively, causing her to snort.

“Talking about you, or the door?”

He offers her no more than an unimpressed glare, lips pursed and eyes heavy-lidded, still scrunching and un-scrunching his hand.

“You’re lucky you’re cute, ya know.” He grumbles, watching a cheeky pout form on her lips.

“Thank you. Anyway, it's probably not that old. Cassimir used this place as his base between the first and second world wars, which, in the grand scheme of things, isn't that long ago. I’m guessing, with all the influence he had-”

“-He spruced up the place. New doors. Lick of paint. Few booby traps for good measure. The usual stuff.” He concludes for her with a slow nod, eyes narrowed at the lever, attention diverting back from the door to his palm.

She snickers.

Her smile deepens into a grin as he bares his teeth in irritation at his tiny little injury.

He grumbles, thumb rubbing small circles on his palm.

She steps forwards, “C’mon, grump. Serves you right for touching things you shouldn't.”

“Well, thank you for exhibiting the utmost care and patience.” He responds, brows knitted together as he continues to scrutinise his hand.

“Don't guilt-trip me.” She turns back and holds onto his wrist gently to inspect the palm of his hand. A little more than a pin-prick sits in the centre; a fresh bead of blood oozing to the surface each time he wipes one away. 

She pouts as she examines it, then offers a quick glance to the lever to see…nothing interesting at surface level. She turned to him with a moue. “What is it? A splinter?”

“Don’t think so.” He mutters, wiping the speckles of blood onto his jeans, nose scrunched into an expression of disapproval.

“Well…You’ve gone through far worse. C’mon.”

He hums in amusement at her dismissal of interest before the two of them begin to walk down the newly revealed corridor.

As she disappears off into the distance, Sam takes a glance at his assailant, cringing as he notes a tiny divot in the centre of the smooth, varnished wood of the lever- furthermore, two engraved letters beneath it. ‘I D’.

“The hell does i-d mean?” He mutters, glancing at his hand again and wiping it on his jeans for the second time with an irked grunt. Strange.

“Noooo!” Her voice echoes from around the corner, attracting his attention back to the task at hand. Or… away from hand, rather.

He turns in her direction, approaching from behind as she grumbles at yet another obstacle. She frowns down at a dormant stone pressure plate on the floor.

“Guess old Cassimir really doesn’t want us getting in there, huh?” Sam mutters, making his way beside her as they both look at yet another enormous door blocking them from proceeding any further.

“Yeah. What an asshole.” She turns to Sam, tongue swirling contemplatively around a molar as he looks down at her with narrowed eyes. “Any lever this time? Stupid thing won’t do anything.” A tut from her makes him chuckle, watching her impatiently scuff the toe of her boot against the plate as if it’ll make it do something other than sink into the ground a little.

He shakes his head, hands on his hips as he ponders their next move. After a moment, he pouts.

“You… think you can squeeze through there?” Sam questions, eye-line fixing onto the discoloured stained glass of a small window framed by stone above the door.

Her cheeks puff up as she assesses the window held ajar by some sort of rusted hinge. A slow exhale deflates said cheeks before she shrugs.

“You severely underestimate the size of my ass, but yes. If you can get me up there, I can certainly try to ‘squeeze through’.”

“Hmm.”

He leans back, making a show of inspecting her rear with exaggerated intrigue.

“Oh, y- yeah, you might be right.”

She flashes a middle finger. “He's here all week!”

“You'd love that, huh.”

“Stop flirting for a sec and help me up.” She teases, feeding his ego slightly.

Ready to crack on, Sam crouches a little, a small grin pinned to his face at her quip. He puts his arms out as she takes a few steps back.

"M'lady."

"Alright, Patrick Swayze." She chuckles, diluted sarcasm in her tone. “Watch those hands.”

He scoffs in response, patting his thigh as if to non-verbally tell her to shut up and get on with it.

After a little run up, the pair manage to execute a relatively successful boost manoeuvre, resulting in boots scuffing against the stone wall as she scrambles the remainder of the way up to the window.

“Nobody puts Baby in a fuckin’ corner.” he commends her dexterity from the ground, his continuation of her reference sending a grin creeping onto her face as she pushes the window further open, wriggling her way through the gap.

“Damn right.” She replies, eventually disappearing out of his sight. She slides down the wall, dust and flecks of rubble curling off of the surface as she approaches the ground.

Dusting her gravelly hands off on her leggings and adjusting the torch clipped to her backpack strap, she begins to look around.

“Shit.” is all she can muster.

Sam glances up at the stained glass, thumb rubbing at the sting in his palm, eyes focusing on coloured Latin lettering separated by intricately crafted lead framing.

Firmitudo Intus Aequilibrio

“You okay?” He pushes, his voice muffled from behind the wall, head tilted to the side in thought as he reads the stained glass. The cogs turn, congruous smirk etching its way onto his lips- his knowledge of Latin permits a little smugness, or so he tells himself.

She nods slowly, before realising that Sam can’t actually see her, almost too distracted by her new surroundings to offer a verbal response.

“Y-yeah, I’m all good.” She clears her throat, turning off her torch. “This place just… you ever seen Shrek 2?”

The stone walls, worn and weathered, stand sentinel, bearing witness to the passage of time. They’re tall. Imposing. But there’s a beauty to their eeriness, aided by the soft, colourful glow from the bottles that haven't succumbed to time.

"Sure. Great hangover movie."

Dust particles dance in the air, caught in the soft rays of crisp winter moonlight filtering through thick tree roots that make up the ceiling, casting ethereal streaks around the room.

"Well, picture the shelves in the dinky potion room."

The shelves, carved untidily into the walls, cradle a trove of relics from bygone eras. Flasks, vials, and jars, now cloaked in the patina of age, their contents long untouched- some clearly from medieval times; when the crypt was first used as an underground apothecary, to more contemporary receptacles used by Casimir himself to store whatever insane concoctions he experimented with; early 20th century brand logos indented into glass, less worn and more transparent than others.

"The one that cat gets the potion stuck in?"

"That's the one." She titters. Sam hums in understanding. "Ha. 'That cat'."

The lair’s height is imposing, a testament to the grandeur of Casimir’s forgotten pursuits. Yet, amidst the stone walls, pockets of soft, colourful radiance emanate from a select few frosty flasks perched high on the shelves. These remaining potions, survivors of the relentless march of time, cast speckled, saturated glows of purples, pinks, and blues around the plethora of other vials and tubes that have greyed and muddied over the years.

It’s all quite something.

She steps back, lips parted as she takes in her surroundings, fingers wrapped around the straps of her backpack. Her breath catches as she feels sudden give in the ground beneath her, calming when she realises she’s trodden on another pressure plate, though this time it doesn’t remain unresponsive.

As the door behind her rumbles and begins to grate upwards, she turns as her heart rate spikes in shock. Sam, still standing on the corresponding slab, watches in intrigue as the room she’s in reveals itself to him. He smiles when he sees her, the mechanism suddenly making sense.

Wagging a finger up to the latin-scribed stained glass window, he chuckles knowingly.

“Balance.” He says, winking at her as she tilts her head cluelessly.

“What?” She asks as he saunters into the room, shining his torch around.

“Latin. See, I’m the brains of this whole operation.”

“Hm.” She huffs. “Thought you were the beauty.”

He scoffs in response to her attempt at sarcasm, walking past her to the heart of the room as the door scrapes shut again. “Hey, you said it.” He smirks over his shoulder at her as she shakes her head.

A stone slab serves as what Sam presumes was once Casimir's makeshift desk, worn and weathered and mossy like the walls that surround it. On its surface, an array of flasks and mixing bowls, each bearing the damage of countless failed experiments, sitting in a dusty mosaic of scientific chaos.

“Spooky.” She mutters, crouching to inspect some brittle bird bones sprawled out on the stone surface. Aged twigs and fibres, remnants of ingredients that probably pulsed with life once upon a time, now lie in withered repose, their potency surrendered to decay. Sam huffs.

“Oof. It is stuffy as balls in here.” He mumbles, hands skimming through parchment laid on the surface.

The room's cold dampness has left its mark on scrawled notes and papers, ink faded, edges curled, bearing witness to the crypt’s neglect.

“Cold as balls.” she contradicts with a punctuating shiver.

Sam gawks at her as if she’s just said something completely insane, but she’s too busy plinking flasks around to notice. It's goddamn roasting.

That, and her idiom makes no sense whatsoever. He’d laugh if he wasn’t so preoccupied with how antsy he feels.

He rolls his neck, an uncomfortable crack making him huff again, yet as his head hangs sideways, he catches a glimpse of something a little more substantial than a few sheets of faded parchment.

Nestled within the clutter, a chunky, leather-bound notebook sits, worn from use, but still relatively intact. “Hell-o.” He purrs, pushing aside some of the papers to grab it.

“What’cha got?” she chirps, still facing one of the many shelves, crystalline clinks reverbing off of the walls as she continues imbibing in her own curiosity.

“I think,” Sam's fingers delicately trace the timeworn pages of the notebook, each page imbued with the secrets of Casimir’s elixir recipes and incantations, “we have got our hands on Mr. Magic Man’s recipe book.”

“Ooo. Anything juicy?”

He leans a hip against the stone, cupping the book in one hand whilst the other tugs at the sherpa collar rubbing against the back of his neck. It is stuffy.

"Uh, yeah, there's... there's definitely some interesting stuff in here," He replies vaguely, his mind preoccupied with the subtle shifts in his body's temperature.

“Spill.” She says, finally diverting her attention from the shelves, a frosty puff of air billowing from her lips as she speaks.

As his eyes scan the complex instructions and cryptic symbols, a particular recipe catches his attention, intrigue somewhat subding his discomfort. "Here's somethin’," he murmurs, his voice just managing to keep his uncertainty under wraps. “'Whisperwind Tonic,’” Sam scrunches his face up, his brow furrowing in concentration as he reads the intricate script.

“Grants the drinker the ability to move unseen and unheard for a short period of time.” He scoffs at the page, subconsciously rubbing his injured hand against the corner of the notebook in an attempt to relieve the subtle ache that’s beginning to radiate from the centre of his palm. 

“Bullshit.” She snorts, putting a bottle back to its rightful place on the shelf in front of her.

“Right.” He clears his throat as he continues to peruse the notebook's contents. Did he eat something funny?

“Keep going. I’m intrigued.” She turns around, making her way towards him to take a peek at the book herself.

His eyes narrow as he faces her, her proximity suddenly more pronounced, the surrounding heat sending him into a slightly dizzying haze. He shakes off the feeling, rolling his shoulders before reading again.

"There’s... potions to manipulate memories... truth elixirs. Nonsense. All this stuff for people who can’t get laid. Probably just a bottle of rohypnol, right? I mean, how else can someone make a ‘passion elix--”

He coughs suddenly, choking on his words before looking at her with some sort of incredulous bewilderment that makes her stop in her tracks.

“What?”

“Jesus, girl. You got enough perfume on?”

“I don’t- what do you mean?”

He scoffs, grimacing. “Whatever you’ve got on? Ease up on it, next time, huh?”

She grumbles, hopping up onto the table beside him, pulling the collar of her jacket up to her nose. She sniffs. It smells like nothing. Just… her. Not good, not bad. She kicks his shin playfully.

“If you think I smell like shit, just say. It’s been a long day.”

“Nah, you don't…” He scratches his palm again, a faint frown creasing his brow as he notices a faint discolouration at the centre. He rolls his wrist to determine whether or not it was just a trick of the light. “You smell really good, actually.” He speaks, though it’s like he’s unaware he’s said anything.

She does. Good enough to eat, in fact, and as she leans in, resting her chin on his shoulder with an amused smirk on her face, Sam's line of sight is dragged from his hand to her eyes, narrowed slightly by her bemused smile. His vision blurs slightly and his brows furrow as he struggles to refocus.

She inquisitively tilts her head, and slowly, he finds his eyesight refocusing on the part of her neck left exposed between her hair and the collar of her jacket. It looks soft. Smooth.

Inviting.

The gentle glow of colour coming from the shelves behind them, reflecting off of her skin mesmerises him, and he finds himself wondering what it would be like to bury his face in the curve of her neck, to dig his fingers into its nape, and let his teeth leave small, speckled bruises behind, to hold her in place and breathe the sweetness in as her breath cools his skin. It's an urge, almost. Raw and overwhelming.

One that he quickly snaps out of.

His cheeks flush as he realises the deviance of his own thoughts, the suddenness of it all leaving him... reeling, to say the least.

“Okay, Romeo.” She teases. “Sometimes I think we’re lucky that this line of work doesn’t have an HR department.” Her voice feels like a hug and a punch to the jaw at the same time, nonetheless, her giggle pulls him back to reality, his attention snapped back to his aching palm.

He frowns deeper, a faint purplish hue beginning to emerge at its centre, subtle discolouration spreading slowly like tendrils of ink on cotton, becoming more pronounced by the second.

He swallows hard, the thickness of the scent oozing down his throat still, leaving him momentarily breathless.

"I, uh..." he stammers, his mind racing to find an explanation for the sudden onslaught of whatever-the-fuck-just-happened, whilst all the layers on him begin to feel like cling film. It’s irritating. It hurts, even.

Her smile falters a little. “I’m… just kidding- hey, you good?” She reaches for his wrist to see what keeps grabbing his attention.

“It’s nothin’, forget it," he stammers, voice a little strained as he closes his sore hand into a fist. He shakes her off of him with an unconvincing snort in a poor attempt to save face.

His attempt at self-preservation only causes her to mirror his embarrassment, and as Sam feels the scent dissipate slightly, an uncomfortable tension takes its place.

He watches her eyes narrow in the corner of his vision, suspicion flickering in their depths as she studies her companion's sudden unsettled demeanour. 

“Right.” she mumbles, slapping her thighs awkwardly. “Well… I’m not one to waste perfume on a job. Especially with you for company, so…” her voice trails off, waiting for what she thinks is an inevitable clapback. It doesn’t come. Her face reddens as her eyes move around awkwardly, though fortunately, he’s too focused on turning the pages of the book to notice.

”Hey.” She says, prodding his temple with her forefinger. “You… sure you’re okay?”

Sam flinches at her touch, a jolt shooting through him as he sniffs to maintain his composure, standing up to distance himself.

“Mhm,” he replies hastily, his gaze darting away from hers as his mind races to find a plausible reason behind the overwhelming sensation. “Yeah, yeah, fine…just- think I ate…” God it’s hot. “-Damn jacket.” He grunts, putting the book down to tug the denim off of an arm, shaking it off of the rest of him impatiently.

She hops off of the stone and backs away, a perplexed laugh escaping her.

“Don’t be evasive!”

“What? It’s…I’m hot. Shit.” Sam mutters, his irritation mounting as he tries to regain control of the situation. He scratches the palm of his hand, and, with a sigh, moves further away from the stone counter, throwing off another layer.

Left in his t-shirt, she gawks at him as he preoccupies himself by looking at his hand once more.

“Samuel, It’s like… sub-zero in-”

“Look. It is warm. I am warm.” He scrunches up his hand with a sigh, frustration progressing strangely fast as he cuts her off. “So, I’ve taken my jacket off. That a problem?”

Her grin falters. She awkwardly teeters from side to side as she decides to keep quiet.

“I could smell… somethin’, thought it might’ve been you, now it’s gone. Just…” He trails off, taking a deep breath as he tries to steady himself. Tilting his head up to the ceiling, he basks in the brief recess from the sweltering heat clinging onto his body, “Just…park it. Please.”

She frowns, her gaze lingering on Sam for a moment longer before she holds her hands up defensively, dismissing the strange encounter with a slow nod as she turns her head back to the shelves.

“Parked. Dick.” she retorts, a façade of amusement decorating her tone in an attempt to lighten the mood, covering the awkward swallow and slight flush in her cheeks one might get after being scolded by a teacher in front of their class. Meanwhile, Sam fixates his attention back onto the notebook in his hands.

As he continues to flip through the brittle parchment, a developing sense of unease begins to tighten his chest. From the corner of his eye, he watches her hop off of the table, tightening her ponytail as she ambles awkwardly back over to the shelves. He parts his lips to apologise, but a painful pulse coming from his hand re-diverts his attention.

He squints between his hand and the intricate symbols and arcane diagrams, words written in faded text, but just as he begins to take it in, he feels himself struggling to focus.

That same sickening sweetness from moments ago slowly assaults his senses again; it’s like a thick, unshakable mist, seeping into his nose, clinging to his throat and settling heavily in his lungs.

Attempting to clear his throat without drawing her attention, Sam shakes his head, a slight furrow forming between his brows as he does so. The back of his hand instinctively rests against his nose, as if warding off the unexplained, worsening discomfort. 

"You…” he swallows, the room seemingly closing in on the tension his outburst had created, “Y’sure you're not wearing perfume or something? Jeez, it’s givin’ me a headache," he mutters with a meekness that she finds irksome.

She scoffs in irritation. "Oh my God, no! What are you talking about?" she retorts, pointing emphatically toward the shelf of vials, her impatience palpable as his attention remains surgically attached to the notebook. “Will you focus?” She looks back at the shelf.

Five of the vials remain untouched, surrounded by that same soft glow he was fixated on moments ago. 

“We need those ones, right?”

Sam, however, remains frozen, his eyes now locked onto a specific page.

“Id. The word- it wasn’t a… damn abbreviation.” Freud's structural model of the goddamn psyche.

“Huh?” She prods, arms folded, brows arched.

“Freud…Id and ego.” Unable to detach his attention from the inked pages, he ignores her as his lips move silently, mimicking the phonetics of the symptoms written on the frail parchment.

The pinprick- sore, burning now, in fact- has become the centre point of a spider's web of dark hairline veins, matching the worrying description in front of him. His gaze shifts between the book and his own hand, a growing realisation drilling into his brain as he watches the deep colour reach his wrist. This is when he remembers the engraving on the lever. Id. the insatiable id, the book says. He scoffs at the audacity of it all. Wonderful!

His own blood flow pulses through his ears, clouding him with more anxiety and indignation, and dread pitches in his gut-

"Sam!"

"What?" He snaps, abruptly smacked back to reality as her irked voice pierces through his fearful focus.

As her gaze settles on him, flustered, brows knitted together in vexed concern, she momentarily holds back her annoyance, her brows furrowing as he blinks, attempting not to entertain the gravity of the situation unfurling in front of him.

 “Jesus, are you PMSing or something?” Her sarcasm goes hand in hand with her raised brow, smirk combo, amused disbelief taking her over. Yet, her own annoyance gives way slightly to genuine worry as she observes the uncharacteristic vulnerability in his expression. "What’s in that stupid book that’s got you so worked up?"

She looks… good. When she's flustered. Annoyed. The flyaway hairs and the frown. He supposes she thinks she looks intimidating. It's having the opposite effect- nope. No. That's enough. 

"I’m not-'' he fumbles an attempt at trying to reassure both himself and her. "Just…” he clears his throat again, the musky sweetness still violating his respiratory system as his eyes twinge with guilt at his sudden attitude change. “Nope. Doesn’t matter." Quickly closing the notebook, Sam clutches it under his arm, straightening his posture, and offering a nod and an awkward smile. “I, uh, didn’t mean’ta…” He trails off, a soft haze forming over his vision. 

She's not stupid. She sees the growing urgency in his eyes that hints at a deeper worry, and it makes her huff. Why can’t he ever just say what he’s thinking? Or, perhaps better, apologise properly?

She sighs and shakes her head. She spends far too much of her energy stressing about him and his wellbeing, when he probably couldn't give a shit about her outside of a job. Enough self sabotage.

“Whatever…can you… get me up to those shelves? Place is starting to give me the creeps.”

Should he show her the book? He looks back to the dark colour continuing to weave through the veins in his palm.

He considers the danger he’s in- that she’s in, if this isn’t, in fact, total bullshit. His blood flow picks up the pace, and he gets hotter. His mouth feels tight. Wet and dry at the same time. God, he feels sick-

“Oh my God, Sam, snap out of it!” She steps closer to him, making him stiffen in apprehension. “I need to get on your shoulders. Focus, please.”

Please. Please please please- the rasped desperation lodged at the back of her throat makes him shudder. He wants to hear her say it again and again and again-

“Do I need to smack you?” The thought of her palm thwacking against his cheek slices through his thoughts, her voice low, bordering irate. He swallows again.

A strained shake of the head is all he can manage in response, and the urgency of their situation propels him into action- if they could just get out of here, he can distance himself. Fresh air cures all ailments, no?

"Alright, just-" he mutters, voice tight as he takes a hesitant step closer, throwing the book to the ground and kicking it aside. His stare flickers briefly to the discoloured veins now reaching his fingertips, and he swallows in silent acknowledgment of the dangerous path he seems to be treading. Still, with a deep breath, Sam carefully lowers himself to a knee, jaw clenched, skin clammy as he beckons her over.

Oblivious to the tumult going on inside him, she moves, adjusting her stance over him. His hands find support on her hips as she sits on his shoulders, but as their skin brushes directly for no more than half a second, his breath catches and he almost chokes.

“You okay?” She asks out of obligation, looking down at him warily.

Sam inhales deeply, nodding in response, jaw clenched, desperately trying to ease up his heart rate as he pushes himself up, raising her to the height she needs.

He tries to steady himself, but as every sense intensifies to an unfathomable degree, he has no choice but to close his eyes to try shutting them out.

Sam can feel the rhythmic rush of her pulse resonating through him, every beat amplifying that strange suffocating sweetness that continues to overwhelm his senses whenever he’s close to her.

“Hurry it up.” He winces.

“Pot, kettle, black.” She retorts, leaning forwards, backpack unzipped as she reaches for the first vial, and as the softness of her voice reverberates through him, his spine is graced with a shiver.

As she reaches up, her body shifts slightly, and he tightens his grip to keep her steady. He can’t help but notice the way her breath hitches, just for a second. It’s a small sound, almost imperceptible, but it makes his chest tighten with a fierce, protective… is it desire?

"Almost there," she says, her voice a little breathless from the fear of falling off of him. "Just...keep still."

"Doin’ my best," he murmurs, his voice rough with suppressed emotion. He wonders if she can feel it too—the electric current. A persistent, dull thrum tugging and squeezing and pulling at every cell and synapse in his body.

Her thighs tighten around him ever so slightly as she reaches for a further vial; the fabric covering them brushes against his ears, the sensation overwhelming enough to make him grunt and dig his fingers even deeper into the flesh of her hips.

As he does so, the details of her body become vividly apparent beneath his fingertips– every fibrous contour of muscle, the softness of fat, the rush of blood beneath her lycra-clad skin– his senses are heightened to an almost unbearable degree, and his head turns sideways as he tries to steady his shaky breathing- the dichotomy of duty and… maybe temptation… playing out in a near-excruciating loop in his mind.

He feels a pull. His nose- his mouth, are lured towards her inner thigh. He swears his stomach growls at the scent of her. If only he could taste her. Drink her down- devour her until he drowns- Shit. No. No-- they need to wrap this the fuck up. Get the hell out of here.

“C’mon.” he grits- whether it was more to her, or his way of trying to pull himself together, he doesn’t know. He lays his head against her thigh, willing for it all to be over.

He wants to yell at her- tell her to stop being so inquisitive-- to stop finding the need to read the labels on the fucking vials she’s still gathering, but if she speaks back to him again his knees might just give.

You're going to be fine, he unconvincingly tells himself. That's what you do. Deal with things. More importantly, she’s going to be fine. Fresh air, he thinks again, they’ll be out of here soon.

Sam’s eyes begin to glaze over again, fingers pressing ever-so-slightly deeper into her as he tries to keep his vision focused.

He’d be able to control himself, he’s sure of it. He’d stare down at the floor as they both retrace their steps out of the crypt, in his head repeating the notion that whatever’s affecting him will just… go away- it’ll be fine if he just pushes through it, it’ll be fine if he just pushes through it-- diminishing any thoughts of how easy it would be to grab her whilst she walks just ahead of him, blissfully unaware of what he wants to do to her.

Oh. What he wants… to do to her.

Pinning her against the wall. Tearing through that perfectly stitched seam on her leggings right between her thighs before even giving her a chance to react, or, God forbid, to protest before he breaks her in.

He absentmindedly licks his lips.

Thoughts of the financial reward, the glory of finding this place- fulfilling their client’s desires, blah, blah, fucking blah, fade into the background as a primal spark flickers deep. The awareness of the perilous temptation turns into some sort of hypnotic drumbeat in his head, rational thoughts singed at the edges, slowly burning into ash and flaking away into thin air.

As his nose and mouth press against her inner thigh, the tension peaks and he becomes overwhelmed by her; Sam's breath quickens, and a possessive hunger simmers behind his eyelids.

His lips part, brushing against her, teeth grazing against fabric- an exploration that hovers on the edge of giving in to something far removed from sanity.

Feeling a warm tickle, she diverts her attention from the shelves in front of her to Sam’s head between her legs.

She swallows, a fleeting pull in her core as she takes in the sight of his fingers dug deep into her hips, but quickly shrugs it off in favour of understanding why the hell he’s breathing so heavily against her, and why on earth his mouth is pressed against her leg.

Sam inhales, opening his mouth wider, taking shallow breaths.

Then, he bites. 

It’s a feral snap into temptation he was trying so hard to fight against.

As his teeth clamp down into the meat of her thigh, she squeals, wobbling, then falling back and off of his shoulders, her skin grazing harshly, simultaneously snapping him out of whatever sick trance he'd fallen into.

“Fuck!” She shouts as her body thuds against the ground. She painfully drags herself into a sitting position, face contorted into an expression of complete disarray as he gawks at her, horrified.

“Shit- are you-” Sam rushes over to see if she’s hurt, but as his hand brushes against her shoulder, he has to fight against himself in order to suppress a groan. It’s too much. He painfully wrenches his hand away, subduing his own body's desire to keep it there. He cowers back. “Oh, God.”

One hand cradling the back of her head whilst the other pulls at the fabric of her leggings, she frowns, cracking her neck and rolling her shoulders uncomfortably as she leans herself away from him.

Wide-eyed frown fixed to her face, she checks her hands for blood. Nothing, thank God, other than a dull ache that sears through her upper thigh.

“Did… did you just fucking bite me?!” She asks, voice quiet, dipped in anger.

Sam doesn’t reply. He’s shaking, hand clasped to his forehead as he glares at the floor, unable to bring himself to look at her. His hand obscures his vision and he breathes heavily at the sight; the purple steadily darkening into the veins in his wrist, fading into his forearm. The book is right. And he’s absolutely fucked.

Meanwhile, she double takes. Sam, leggings, Sam, leggings. There’s a slight fray in the fabric.

She pulls herself to her feet, wincing at the all-round ache in her body, astounded.

“What the hell is up with you?!” She hisses at him, taking a step closer before he holds a hand out defensively.

“I- I’m- no, stay over there, I… I don’t know. I don’t-” He splutters, doubling over as if he’s been punched in the gut as she gets closer. He stumbles backwards, back smacking against the stone table with a force that makes him grunt. “Somethin’- something’s happening t’me.” He rasps, wide eyes glued to the palm of his hand.

“Yeah, no shit.” She spits, looking at her leg again. “You broke the fucking skin- how-” Her voice is tinged with exasperated irritation… that quickly morphs into extreme concern when she finally takes in his appearance. “Jesus. W-what is going on with you?”

Sam’s sweating, despite it being cold enough to see their own breath, his sleeves clinging to his arms, fabric glued to his torso as his chest heaves unsteadily. His eyes are wide, and as they traverse away from his palm, down his body, it’s clear that they’re wide in realisation. 

“You-” He’s fucked. Which means she’s fucked. How on earth is he supposed to explain what’s going on here? “You’ve gotta go.”

She huffs, ignoring his plea. “Do you need… water, or something? Painkillers?” She asks, panic creeping into her voice, dropping to her knees as she throws her backpack to the ground. She holds it open, hands ferreting around for her water bottle, clattering around the vials that miraculously remain intact, whilst Sam’s eyelids grow heavy.

“N-no.” He shakes his head, turning back to her to make sure she’s unharmed, but as soon as he looks at her, he’s unable to avert his gaze from the fullness of her thighs as she kneels. “God.” He mumbles, salivating.

Jesus fucking Christ, he’s losing himself.

He musters the strength to force his eyes shut, and it hurts. Every part of his body wants her. To look at her, to touch her, to… taste her, even- but the slither that remains of his weakened mind can't allow it.

Shaking her head, she retrieves her flask. “Here. You’re sweating.” She says, walking over to him. “It’ll cool you down.”

Sam swallows a whine, and lowers himself fully down to the ground with a self-loathing groan, hunched over, eyes squeezed shut as he attempts to drive out all sorts of depraved, wanton thoughts that keep flitting in and out of his head unprompted.

“N-no. Don’t come near me.” his hushed murmur comes out gravelly as she wearily dips her head down to meet his eye line, concerned at how he’s lowered himself to the ground. She takes a nervous breath, kneeling to his level as he lets out a defeated sigh.

He keeps his view of her hidden by his arm as she extends her own, ignoring his plea to instead tilt his chin up and hold the flask up to his lips. He shudders, his whole body trembling as his eyes unwillingly fix on hers, cursing under his breath at the touch of her cool hand on his skin. His gaze draws lower to her waist, her hips, her soft stomach- his hands clenched tight into his jeans as he fights against the impulse to lunge at her.

She tilts the flask and upwards and watches his throat bob as he swallows. She swallows too, almost choking on her dry throat. The longer she looks at him, the more the chill in her bones dissipates- the more she feels warmth seep into her bloodstream.

Her skin against his feels like molten metal, and he shakes with the ever-growing impulse to grab hold of her. To touch, and to be touched. He pushes the flask away in a brash attempt to get her away from him, then holds his breath as he tries to focus on the small bit of reprieve the cool water has granted him, even if it is no better than a bucket thrown over a forest fire.

“Any better?” No answer. She huffs, screwing the lid back on before backing up a little. “Can I trust you to get me back to the window so we can get out of here, or are you gonna bite my other leg, too?”

“Can’t-” Sam blurts panicked, eyes wide as his head darts in her direction.

“Oh my-” She laughs mirthlessly, strenuously rubbing her face before eyeing the room to see what else she can come up with. “Where’s that book?”

No. He’s going to throw up. He can’t let her find out. If he just waits it out, everything will be fine. His gaze moves to where he’d kicked the notebook- just under a shelf. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

“Jesus chr- where’s the notebook, Sam! The one you were reading!”

Unfortunately, her eyes follow suit, and as she catches a glimpse of the frayed leather binding, she crawls towards it.

He watches in a sort of trance-like state as she flattens herself against the ground, moving her torch around underneath the dusty shelves in search of the book he’d kicked under them minutes ago. “If you’re not going to tell me, I’ll look for answers myself.”

This is perfect. He could go for her right this second. Pinning her down would be easy- she's so small compared to him. So weak. A pretty little lamb, all ready for him to slaughter. He suppresses a moan at the thought.

“Got it.” She jumps up, fragile book in hand, and he smacks himself in the face with a grunt.

Revolting. Selfish.

She starts flicking through the pages, face riddled with ire as Sam's breath hitches. “No. Don’t- don’t look in th-” He lets out a panicked whimper as his body reacts to the feeling of his shirt peeling on and off his skin; he starts to hyperventilate. Clasping his hand over his mouth as he strains painfully against his jeans, he winces. “Shit.” He swallows, covering his face with his hands as he leans back against the stone. 

She watches his Adam's apple bob as he quietly gulps down air in an attempt to calm himself down.

“You’re hardly in any position to tell me what to do.” She reads; pages upon pages of notes and diagrams elude her as she takes cautious steps towards him, but as his hands shoot out to stop her coming closer, she stills, and takes him in.

She notes the uneasy tremble, the sheen of sweat, flushed cheeks, and the uncharacteristic panic. Perhaps even more alarming than the complete absence of his calm and collected nature is the wispy nebula of blackcurrant-purple bleeding outwards from the more concentrated black in the centre of his palm, up into the veins leading towards his elbow.

She steps closer.

"Don't." He snarls, flecks of frightened spittle coming through his teeth. And this time, she does as she’s told.

She exhales shakily, eyes fixed on the sight of his hand- she swears she sees the dark wisps expanding.

"I- I need to find out what that… purple shit is."

She keeps flicking through, rubbing at her thigh as it twinges with discomfort.

"Yeah, well," He mumbles through gritted teeth, shoulders heaving as if he's fighting the most ferocious of fevers. “Sometimes ignorance is bliss.”

"Ignorance is only making things worse." She snaps, fingers desperately frittering between pages of Casimir's stupid fucking disintegrating notebook. "Why don’t you just tell me what’s happening?" She laughs- no mirth in sight, eyes watering as her head throbs and her insides churn with dread. “Tell me what’s going on. I bet I can fix it.”

“You can’t fix- Shit, there’s that goddamn smell again.” He laughs ironically, before hissing in discomfort and writhing slightly.

She rests the book on the stone desk with a frustrated grunt, holding it open with one hand whilst the other arm wrestles off her jacket absentmindedly, sighing in relief as the cool air ventilates under her t-shirt. She shakes her head in disbelief before flicking to the next page.

She looks at Sam dead in the eyes, trying to steady her own heart rate as she does so in hopes he’ll pass her red cheeks off as some sort of side effect of the cold. Cold. It was cold a second ago, wasn’t it? 

As soon as she looks back at him, a stifling humidity continues to build. It must be the intensity and the… abruptness of the situation. She goes to remove her jacket, until she realises it’s already off. She feels like she’s wrapped in a layer of plastic- hot, flustered, and her leg fucking kills- This is the last time she lets herself get so… pent up over him.

“You’ve- gotta go.”

“Go?” She huffs, annoyance permeating her tone. She shudders, her face running even hotter, his voice alone enough to render her knees weak, and her throat tight. “You'd love that, wouldn't you? Ever the hero. Asshole.”

“No, I- Fuuuck!” He groans loudly into his fist, trembling. Admittedly, it unnerves her, so she turns her attention back to the book, fingers scrambling from dog-eared page to dog-eared page.

“So, you’d rather I let your stubborn ass stay here, suffering from- who knows what- ow, my God.” She hisses, the urgency and irritation in her voice making a return as a dull ache throbs through her thigh. 

“You can’t be near me.” He mutters into his hands as he doubles over, just loud enough for her to hear.

Inhaling sharply, a brief but intense pang of emotion stirs within her, an ache born not only from the profound lack of understanding of what’s transpiring, but also, admittedly, the slight sting of… is it some sort of infantilization? She thought they were over that! They’ve been partners for months now, and he still doesn’t trust her? Why is he trying so hard not to let her know what the problem is?

And then there's the rejection, of course. That hurts almost as much as her developing headache.

“Well, unfortunately, I have to be near you. I can’t get out.” She points to the stained glass window. “I need you to get me up there-” He cuts her off abruptly with an irritated grunt, jaw clenched in warning.

“I can’t!” He shouts.

“Why?” She shouts louder, stepping closer again.

“Stop-”

“Don’t tell me to stop-'' She follows his eyeline, landing on the writing on the window that he’s transfixed on again. “Firmitudo Intus- what?” The script grates clumsily out of her throat as she rubs feverishly at her sore leg. “Tell me what it means! What’s wrong with you?!”

“S-stability in- in balance. How- ughh, shit- how the pressure plates worked.” Sam huffs, words punctuated with a flurry of uncomfortable grunts. “Why can’t you-- ah, God dammit- just take a hint!” He groans loudly into his fist, trembling.

“Take a hint?!” She spits, voice wavering. “Screw you! Just tell me what's going on- or, or better off- tell me the fact that you can't stand the sight of me."

“No, no, no- stay there— It's not like that, I- you don't get it, it's —”

“Spell it out for me then! Stop being so fucking secreti-”

“I’m going to fucking jump you.” He bellows, his face twitching as a wave of blistering, blistering heat courses through him. His fingertips dig painfully into the stone behind him, finding leverage.

She ogles him, bewildered.

Then, after a moment, she guffaws, her fear momentarily usurped by such a ridiculous statement.

In that moment, as she mocks him, Sam feels a surge of strength shoot through him, perhaps a side effect of his desperation not to face further humiliation. It's as if some dormant force within him has been nudged awake, overpowering his rational mind, and with a grunt, he drags himself upright against the table; movements fluid. Predatory.

“You’re going… to jump me?” She sneers, her voice low, teeth bared in a sour smile as she turns to the window, momentarily considering how to get up there herself. “Hah! Of course you are. Any threat to avoid telling me what’s happening, huh? You're such a-”

Her insults die in her throat as she’s shoved harshly into the wall. The fragile book slips from her fingers, thudding onto the floor.

She stares up at Sam, wide-eyed and startled. His painful grip on her wrist, the back of her head pulsating after colliding with so many hard surfaces- it’s all making her ears ring. His grip is firm and bruising as he pushes himself onto her, his stare intense. Unrelenting.

“What are you doing?" she stammers, her voice trembling, brows furrowed in frightened confusion.

But Sam doesn't answer. Instead, he leans in closer, his breath hot against her skin, eyes locked onto hers with an unsettling intensity that makes her stomach flutter. She can feel his heart pounding against her chest as he presses into her, matching the now frantic rhythm of her own as heat radiates off of him.

Sam's certain he can hear her blood flow as he holds her gaze, his senses heightened to the point of overload. The warmth emanating from her skin, the rapid rhythm of her pulse beneath his fingertips, and the heady, sickly sweet scent of her- it’s all driving him to the brink of madness.

“What… the hell are you doing, Sam? Let go.” she whispers, her other hand tentatively going for him in an attempt to wrench herself free, though, with an instinctive speed, he captures her other wrist, pinning it on the other side of her head as a startled gasp leaves her lips. She struggles against his grasp with an anxious whimper, but he only tightens his hold, his wild expression a frightening mix of confusion and horror. Yet his grip on her remains tight. 

"Make it stop-," he stammers through his tightened jaw, his voice trembling with remorse. "I don't know what… I didn't mean to- I need-” A wave of dizziness washes over him as he speaks, a growing tightness in his chest, threatening to send him spiralling into oblivion- he feels like he’s going into cardiac arrest.

Her eyes are wet with anxiety as he cages her in, brows wavering as if she’s attempting to prevent herself from tearing up.

But he’s frozen. Mind rapidly toing and froing between wanting to let her go, and wanting to see her cry. What he’d give to see her eyes brimming with tears, his fingers tight against her scalp while her lips grow swollen, drenched by her own drool as he rams himself down her throat. “I can’t- I can’t stop thinkin’ about… Jesus, the things I wanna do to you.”

His fingers tighten their grip further, pushing himself harder against her, keeping her painfully upright against the stone. Their eyes meet once more as her own chest starts to heave. God. The way he’s looking at her. It’s… carnal.

Amongst this sudden yo-yoing of fear and confusion, she feels herself heat up more, a cramping feeling tugging at her abdomen as he stares at her, breathing deeply- slowly.

“What?” She just about manages to rasp, lips parted, wrists aching, head pounding. “What are you talking about?”

She knows exactly what he's talking about. She can feel him pressing against her.

“You s- sound like a mouse.” He mumbles as if inebriated, one side of his mouth twisted into an almost malevolent grin that makes her stomach drop as he presses his forehead against hers, rendering her virtually immobile. “So small. So scared.” He mocks with a pout as she shudders. “But you’re not just scared, are you?” He speaks through his teeth, eyes trailing down to watch himself push his hips against her with a deep groan.

The sudden friction sends an embarrassingly high-pitched gasp spilling out from her mouth before her teeth have a chance to trap it. Fuck.

His eyes go back to hers, darkened, pupils blown. “Thought so.” He smirks. “I can pretty much taste you from-” a grunt permeates the end of his sentence as his darkened resolve wavers.

He shakes his head, a sudden maelstrom of panic and culpability in his chest making his eyes water. 

“Not- me. I didn’t mean-” She remains glued to the wall, wide-eyed and disoriented, as he stumbles over his words, her heart racing as she watches him lose balance and fall into her, palms braced at either side of her waist as the vice-like grip on her wrists finally relents. “I’m s-” he hisses, his body burning as if demanding him to succumb to what it wants.

Much to her own dismay, she doesn’t move her freed hands- there’s no attempt to push him away again. She’s so caught up in the shock of how good that felt and all of the confusion and guilt that are beginning to plague her head. She must've hit it hard.

Sam’s hand digs into the small of her back, his shoulders slumping as his fingers slip just beneath the hem of her shirt. His grip is tight and desperate as he drops his head against her chest, leaning into her for support as he whimpers, gasping for air. “I can't help it- I want- to stop, but-” 

She takes in a shaky breath, momentarily paralysed, as if her body and vocal chords are in combat against her brain. There's something hypnotic about the way he's looking at her, something frightening about the desperation and the spontaneous Jekyll-and-Hyde-ness of it all, yes, but equally… satiating… as if this is something her body's been vying for for ages.

She swallows hard at the feeling of his skin on hers, and the soft, needy sounds coming out of him- at his weight keeping her firmly pressed against the wall, and the smell of his sweat, cheap detergent, the gift set aftershave he feels obligated to use that’s making her heart thump even harder.

All such normal things- usually so unnoticeable. But it’s a sudden assault on her senses that she can’t shake off- it clings to her, burning her eyes, creeping up her nose, down her throat, settling in her stomach. It’s grounding. Exhilarating, to the point where she wants to tug him closer and inhale him to the point of suffocation.

And she’s baffled by this revelation. Nauseated, almost. She should be angry with him. Furious. How dare he manhandle, bite, bruise and then withhold an explanation from her. Instead, she can’t help but feel an intrinsic need to keep him as close to her as possible. To see, smell, hear, taste him.

Why is her body reacting in such a way? Why is she soaking wet? 

Sam’s terrified. The thoughts he’s had in the past few minutes have been depraved. Actions violent, and he would rather die than cause her harm, so he’s trying with all his might not to let himself give in. Even if he wants nothing more.

From day dot, she’s been off limits. And he's always stuck to that.

He's aware of how she reacts every time he's pushed their banter a bit too far, leaving her flustered. Every hint of jealousy she's let slip when he's talked about his ‘dating’ life. He knows about her ‘crush’– cute, he thought, but inevitably fleeting, surely. Unlike his own feelings- oh no! They’ve fused to every fibre of his being like hot glue.

This whole situation is nothing but a cruel joke. Like fate has conspired to mock him- to force him into getting his way via a horrible, depraved, manipulative circumstance since he's been too much of a pussy to act upon it otherwise. She’s right. He is stubborn. He should’ve let her pull the damn lever. At least that way, she wouldn't be a victim. Or... perhaps less of one.

His stomach lurches and he slumps to his knees, hands maintaining an unstable hold on her hips. He feels pathetic. “Makeitstop.” He heaves again.

He tries to speak again, but as he bucks his hips again, completely against his own will, the blazing friction against his own jeans causes him to hiss, his forehead collapsing against her thigh, eyes wide as he pants for air. “Holy shit.”

She looks down helplessly, shaken and clueless. She watches his hand dig into her thigh, holding it in place as he burrows his face into it.

“You smell so fucking good, I-” He cuts himself off with a groan, shaking his head and pursing his lips. His voice comes out rough again. Dark. Crumbled asphalt, absinthe poured straight down her throat, settling into her bloodstream. “No, no, no…” He just about pulls away to give himself air, eyes flitting up to her, warring between despair and yearning.

The sight of it makes her… warmer still. Hot, even. The bite on her thigh burns as his proximity agitates it. “What should I do?” She rasps, fingers anxiously pulling at the curls by the nape of her neck as if she’s trying to withhold from touching him. “I don’t know what’s… happening.” She whispers, vision losing focus for just a moment.

"I need..." he grunts, struggling to find the words. He weakly tugs at the collar of his t-shirt, but his strength is failing him. "I need you to... take it off... please," he begs, his voice barely more than a desperate whisper.

He looks so pretty like this. On his knees… whining softly, cheeks flushed, his hands grasping at her. It’s so unlike him. Samuel Casanova Drake- reduced to this. The flirtation. The teasing. Getting her all worked up on purpose, only to be reminded that she’s nothing special- that that’s just the way he is. All bark, no bite. Is he being taught a lesson?

She swallows thickly.

She thinks about how it felt when he grinded himself onto her and forcibly suppresses a moan as a pleasurable jolt shoots up her spine, setting her hairs on end. Her head is swimming. This is all so… artificial. So odd. She’s always been attracted to him, but fuck, this is wrong.

She hesitates, her heart pounding in her chest as a wave of guilt-ridden nausea rushes through her. Is- is she taking advantage of him?

“Please.” He repeats, his plea punctuated with a desperate whimper. She blinks, nodding, and with trembling hands, she crouches and reaches for the hem of his shirt, her fingers brushing against his heated skin. Gently, she lifts the shirt over his head, her touch lingering on his arms as she pulls it free.

Sam gasps as the cool air hits his bare skin, a momentary relief from the feverish heat consuming him. He leans heavily against her, his breathing ragged, his body trembling. "Thanks," he murmurs, his eyes closing briefly as he savours the sensation.

She swallows hard, feeling a strange mix of fear and sickening lust fester in her bloodstream. Her hands remain on his arms, steadying the both of them.

"What now?" she asks, her voice barely audible.

Her eyes are drawn to the sheen of sweat covering his body; the way dark hairs lay matted on his chest, softly trailing down his stomach, past fading ink and mottled scars, beyond where his belt keeps his jeans smouldering against his skin.

She watches her own hand rest under his chin, tilting him up to her. It’s like she’s watching it unfold through a TV screen.

Delicate wisps of condensation coming from his parted lips makes her mind wander; What would they taste like? How would the roughness of his stubble feel against her? Her mouth, her neck, her bare stomach, down down down- she's had these thoughts before; fingers delved between her thighs as she stares breathlessly up at the ceiling.

Saliva pools under her tongue as she imagines rutting against his pretty nose and open mouth like a bitch in fucking heat- oh god- her teeth graze her lower lip as her thoughts begin to spiral further than usual- why are they spiralling like this?

She’s sweating.

There’s so much desire- so much insatiable hunger in his eyes alone as he looks at her that it makes her thighs tense together. As she does so, she’s reminded of the bite again. It fucking hurts, snapping her out of her depraved trance; her eyelids flutter unsteadily as she regains focus, her cheeks burning.

His pulse thuds frantically against her thumb, and her nails stroke gently at his skin as his shoulders rise and fall harder, amplifying his restraint which is growing more and more painful by the second. 

“You…” he pauses and grunts, fighting himself as his eyes remain shut. “Don’t… know what to... ugh- hurts. It’s too- too much." Every tiny little touch feels like he’s being swallowed whole. It’s like a cold spring and a flow of lava all at once, and he wants to scream. 

She pulls her hands away, looking at them as though she’s the cause of the problem. Hoping to herself that her sick mind will sort itself out if she distances herself from him.

He shakes, sweat beading off of his chest, blood pumping through him at a dizzying pace as his eyes pine for her.

“N-no.” He’s craving- starving. A trembling hand raises to her wrist, and he winces as his fingers wrap around her. As his fingertips dig into her forearm, the thought of sudden absence of her touch feels like a death sentence. “Don’t.”

He swallows audibly as his body jolts again at the touch. The contact hurts him. Arouses him to such a painful degree, but he’s not letting her get away. He can’t- he doesn’t want to. He’s too far gone.

Sam’s eyes squeeze shut and he screws up his face in some sort of pained internal conflict. He grabs her wrist tighter and she winces, but as he drags her hand back to his face, her eyes follow.

“Help.” he blurts, finally deciding it’s time to bite the proverbial bullet as he sits fully and leans back against the stone table, accidentally pulling her with him. “I need- need you- your help. The last pages- another way to-” He eyeballs the notebook. “Make it stop. Before I hurt you again.”

She picks up the book and kneels. Her thumb swipes across his cheekbone as his hand rests over hers. Her hands on his bare skin are fucking excruciating; he can feel every single ridge of her fingerprints despite her stillness, like thousands of knife edges grazing his skin all at once.

“Okay- I- I’m looking.” She says, and oh, she sounds like velvet. Liquid gold that he just wants to swallow forever and ever and ever. He’s transfixed by her lips as she speaks, absentmindedly snaking his other hand up the nape of her neck and into her hair.

His fingers tighten their grip, gently pulling her head backwards, and with watery eyes he nuzzles into her neck, breathing deeply- slowly. “Hmmm, God.”

His hips buck towards her, and the feeling of his lips grazing over her neck make her swallow hard. She doesn’t need to read the book to know what’s going on. He whispers breathless apologies, guilt making his heart ache whilst he loses control of the rest of his body.

Her eyes continue to flit around the pages nervously, no longer to read, but to hide. This is ridiculous. Her skin hasn’t felt this sensitive before.

Her eyes fall over a likely explanation; a sketch of a lever mechanism, an embedded sharp needle, designed to assault the user of the lever- the intruder, all annotated in scrawled purple ink.

This artifice serves twofold: first, as a deterrent to the audacious; and second, as a penance, a punishment to those who dare disrupt the harmony of my sacred space. May they find the scales tipped; themselves lost within the labyrinth of their own psyche, ensnared by the very primal urges that govern the basest instincts.

She looks at his hand again, and takes in the details written on the page. Primal urge. Base instinct. Her cheeks flush as she converts the words into layman's terms, confirming her theory.

“It’s an… aphrodisiac.” She affirms.

As the wayward thief succumbs, such symptoms shall manifest: The skin shall burn, the point of breach becoming the source of a webbed discolouration as dark as ones fevered desire, and the pulse shall quicken with an infernal craving, subjugating the relentless pursuit of knowledge with the all-consuming tug of the insatiable id. The mind, entangled in the labyrinth of unbridled lust, shall forsake rationality. The thief shall be led astray from their pursuits, ensnared by their own voracious yearnings, knowledge plundered.

Sam hears the uncertainty in her voice as she grapples with the implications of the infection. Their eyes meet for a split second, and he feels a surge of humiliation that’s so unfamiliar to him he’d probably wretch if his mouth wasn’t preoccupied.

She takes in a shaky breath returning to the page again as the pieces begin to fit together.

“S’there another way?” he murmurs into her, the low vibrations of his voice making her close her eyes for a moment. She grunts to herself, forcing her eyes back to the page.

In the safety of companionship, the afflicted may find respite. Should the infection remain unchecked, the heart will strain beyond its limits, ultimately succumbing to the weight of its own longing.

The ‘cure’  is plain and simple. Two people. Balance. Or, by the sound of it, death.

She shakes her head.

The thought of said cure makes her shiver, tongue rolling over her bottom lip.

A coil begins to tighten in her abdomen as he groans into her skin. His hips buck towards her, and the feeling of his lips on her neck make her exhale harshly.

She looks at her leggings as another sore, shooting pain emanates from the bite mark, Sam’s wandering hands peeling apart the small tear in the fabric as his teeth graze against her throat.

Realisation fills her lungs, a bubble forming by her tonsils; the disorienting mix of undeniable, rising pleasure and panic creeping into the forefront of her mind.

Her skin looks mottled, veins deep purple.

Just like his.

The telltale discolouration, mirroring the ominous staining making its way up Sam's arm sends a shiver through her as she comprehends it all. As she watches his brows waver in internal dispute, her own contort in… concern, yes. But also a sense of desperation, wanting to feel more as Sam drags himself more upright with a cracked groan that makes her lips part and her throat seize when she’s pushed harder against him. More importantly, perhaps, the relief from knowing that neither of them can help it. That, for what it’s worth, is a mutual need.

She takes a gamble, grappling with the part-insidious, part-alleviating truth as she looks back to him, legs parting to straddle him properly.

Her chest heaves; the air feels thick, and there’s a strong pulsing ache between her thighs every time her nipples rise and fall, sore and tender underneath her tight sports bra. All of her clothes feel tight, creating tangible friction all over; her whole body, her face, her skin- is clammy and sticky and so fucking overwhelmingly hot.

A small part of Sam is still trying to stop, to control himself, but as he drags himself away from her neck to look at her, it’s clear that this prolonged contact has its consequences; his psyche swells with a sudden growth in appetite as she settles over him, and suddenly, he barely registers that he’s doing anything at all.

Moving his hand to the back of her head, he pulls her closer in a sudden move that draws a gasp from her as her hands brace themselves on his chest- the sudden harshness of his desperate fingers tugging at the roots of her hair is unexpected. The strength coming from this movement alone renders her unable to pull away- even if she wanted to.

He pants harder, unable to let her go, but so afraid of causing her harm all the same. His fingers impulsively flex at her scalp, and she gulps down a whine at the sensation as her eyes squeeze shut.

“I’m- I’m s- I can’t stop. I’m sorry-”

A hand moves from his chest to the back of his neck. With a gentle pull, she guides his gaze downward, her fingers pulling apart the material to trace the mottled purple that’s started snaking across her skin.

Sam's heart lurches in his chest, an undercurrent of panic rising up his throat like bile.

"No, no- what did i do? I-“

“Sam.” She hushes, pressing her forehead onto his, forcing him to stay still- to focus. She silently implores him to find solace in her. “It’s... we’ve just gotta...” Her eyes non-verbally tell whatever flecks of her Sam that’s still in there that she’s here for as long as he needs her to be. That she wants this. She's wanted this. That she’s willing- God, she’s willing.

This is where he feels himself begin to dissolve away completely. Prolonged closeness. Her voice. The heat rising throughout her pretty little face, the growing heaviness of her eyelids, her freckles subdued by an involuntary heat spreading through her cheeks.

And, he can feel the warmth pooling between her legs.

It doesn’t take a genius to realise that this kind of reaction from her is fuelling him. He needs more of it. Craves more of it.

He’s slipping just beneath the surface, but he’s too tired to drag himself up for air. He supposes he doesn’t really need to, now. He could drown in her and die happy.

She’s starting to feel it worsen, too. The ache. The coercion of mind from body.

Her lips brushing against his feels like molten sugar; a searing heat that’s so sickly sweet he can’t pull away despite the blistering heat that’s destined to leave a nasty burn.

“We’ve just… gotta…” she repeats slowly, voice low and speech slurred. She can’t finish her sentence- every part of her is swarmed by the need to close the gap. She has no idea how he’s managed to hold out for so long.

With a shaky exhale, he nods, releasing the tension he's been painfully holding onto, allowing himself to surrender to the overwhelming heat pulsing through him. He finally allows himself to sink under as she plants a tentative kiss on his lips. A kiss which he only returns, though much more urgent- more voracious; it’s like stumbling across an oasis in the middle of the desert- it’s his first sip of fresh water in days, and it makes her eyes widen.

She brings a hand round to the back of his neck, clinging to him eagerly, her thighs spreading further- non-verbal consent, a silent plea for more as she begins to feel the simmering deep in her belly hurriedly rise to a boil.

He grinds himself upwards without a thought, and she whimpers into his mouth. The friction, the sweet, fucking friction has him press back into her desperately, wanting more, sending a groan up from deep in his chest.

He’s gone. Rationality dwindled entirely as the slightest bit of pressure is applied, steadily being replaced with a frightening strength and burning need to have his way no matter the consequences.

She feels her heart rate quicken as she takes in the sight of his pupils. They’re fucking blown out. The pretty specks of amber that normally contrast the darker brown in his irises have been eclipsed by a deep amethyst.

“… want...fu-” Sam’s voice becomes lower still, grating through gnarled teeth, and as his fingertips dig into her back, keeping her in place, he shifts again- he’s so hard, so perfectly angled underneath her- she salivates as she chokes out. “Want to f- fill you up.”

Hey eyes gloss over and her brain numbs. She nods frantically. Heat floods between her thighs with a vengeance, rationality waning as a shockwave shoots through her arched spine. She wants everything to be touched by him.

The third time comes quicker; more brutal, more needy, taking advantage of her lack of composure as she succumbs to his grip, his mouth hungrily taking a dive for her neck again, except this time there’s less restraint. None, even.

“Oh-- sh-mmf-” Her body shudders as she slurs her words, and as his teeth pull harshly at her skin, she cries out into her hand.

Her legs tremble, knees aching as the stone beneath them digs in, breath pitching in her throat as she’s hit with a shamefully sudden climax.

Her wide eyes water as her hand remains clasped around her mouth, chest heaving as she struggles to register how little action it took for her to come, waiting for the pressure to abate and the fog to clear.

Instead, as she feels his hands roam, and watches his frantic eyes fail to decide what to settle on, the fog only thickens, overruling any semblance of critical thinking.

It hits her like a fucking tidal wave, in fact; she can’t fathom anything other than the fact that she needs more.

And in that split second, she surrenders to the pull, inhibitions fizzling away as she leans in, closing the distance between them again with a fierce determination. A surge of adrenaline tips her over the edge and she takes control, seizing him hungrily, fingertips digging harshly into his scalp to bring him back up to her. He protests, growling, biting harder until he feels himself pried away by force, her nails pressing into his jaw, leaving crescents as she gets him where she wants him, lips crashing together again in a tumultuous collision of lust and fervour.

She doesn’t know what to do with herself. She wants everything off- to feel her skin pressed up against his, but the time it would take to unbutton and unzip is a repulsive notion that ignites an almost animalistic frustration within her. The thought of it drives her insane- feverish fingers move from his hair and chin, and instead scramble for his belt buckle, clumsily tugging it apart as his teeth mirror the action at her bottom lip.

The messy exchange of teeth, tongue, and spit takes precedence over Sam’s brain, and he feels himself fall into her, torsos glued desperately together as the heat in his belly burns stronger. Hot blood pumps rapidly to his cock as her choked mewls drag him perilously close to the edge after no more than some mere friction.

His mouth traverses down her chin to her throat, ravenous groans muffled against her skin as he grips onto her for dear life, beginning to feel some give in the confinement of his jeans as she unzips them. She doesn’t even try to pull him away this time- her objective has changed.

He’d swear if he could, but his brain can’t even conjure up letters any more.

His teeth pierce the delicate skin of her neck, and a startled cry escapes her lips as she loses balance and tumbles backwards onto the unforgiving stone beneath them.

Sam looms over her, his weight pressing down until she feels almost crushed beneath him. Only his hand, gripping the back of her head with a fierce intensity that verges on violence, prevents her skull from meeting the ground with bone-shattering force.

His weight bears down on her, the back of one hand planted firmly against the ground underneath her head, while the other moves to maintain its bruising hold on her jaw, thumb hooking around her bottom teeth.

Every nerve in her body seems to betray any remnant of morality as she keens, her thighs tightening around him, trapping him in place as grinds himself against her. He selfishly draws tiny pinpricks of blood from her neck, and she claws at his arm, holding it against him as she bites and sucks what he gives her- almost every inch of her has become an unforgiving erogenous zone; it's all too much but not enough. It’s not enough. Teeth piercing her skin, tongue lapping up the mess- It’s an exquisite sort of agony, and she wants- needs- 

“More.” She murmurs around his thumb- or is it his finger now?

His teeth leave a trail of fire along her collarbone, her jawline, finally settling on her pulse point as it throbs beneath his lips. He grunts in response. There, he bites down harder, eliciting a guttural sound from deep within her throat as she struggles to catch her breath beneath him. Every break of the skin permits small bleeds of that relentless purple colour, rendering her virtually feral as she grows increasingly more overruled by the substance.

Rough hands roam beneath her t-shirt, sending goosebumps rising over heated skin as speckled blood bruises settle around her neck wherever his teeth have failed to puncture. To find some semblance of control amongst the chaotic frenzy, her trembling fingers pull at the waistband of her leggings, her urgency matching his own.

Fumbling clumsily, he joins her, his fingers tugging at the fabric with an urgency nigh on feral as his other hand harshly kneads at her waist. God, he wants to dig his fingers into her flesh, to break the skin, tear her apart, and fucking consume her from the inside out.

Before the waistband can even reach her thighs, she’s reaching down, pulling him out, drawing him towards her as a dribble of precum trickles over her fingertips, and he pushes up his torso to watch.

He’s sensitive. So, so, sensitive. In her desperation to pull him closer, she squeezes her palm around his shaft, and he chokes on his sudden gasp, hands smacking hard against the floor to hold himself up. 

Fuck. She wants to hear him do that again.

She grips him harder, stroking up and down with a cruelly tight fist. He’s all breathless whimpers and fluttering eyelids, allowing her to revel in the sounds as he drinks in the sight of her hand wrapped around him.

He shudders, undone, from virtually nothing, shaking violently and audibly moaning behind pursed lips. He can’t even think to muster up a verbal warning before he comes, pearly hot liquid spurting over her hand, dripping down onto her stomach. Yet, similarly to her, there’s no comedown. No time for shame about such a short build up. He’s still hard, red hot and weeping, body vying for more as his eyes glue themselves to the mess he’s made on her t-shirt, seeping through to her skin- Christ, her skin-

He’s hooked; her plushness, every recess and every convex curve, how her t-shirt clings to her stomach, made tacky by him. If it were possible, he’d cover her in him just so he could spend minutes watching it drip and bead and roll across and in-between her soft, smooth, warm skin. Sam’s so mesmerised that he barely even takes in the fact that he’s pushed her t-shirt up, his tongue and teeth licking and pulling at her stomach until his hips buck harshly at the saltiness of her sweat mixing with the flavour of his own stickiness. He shudders.

Her hands slide and scramble, clumsily unhooking her bra, scraping her knuckles on the floor beneath her before pulling it all off, over her head; all just in time for his mouth to open and cram as much of her left tit inside as he can. Sam sucks with a ferocity that’d be frightening if this wasn’t a shared affliction, rutting his hips sporadically against the bunched up fabric of her leggings rolled down to her thigh.

Her nipples are hard, sore, aching, and the pressure of his teeth rabidly biting and pulling, contradicting the soothing warmth of his tongue rolling in tandem, make her jaw go slack and her brows knit tightly together as she tries to navigate the fluctuating sensations.

Her hands slide over the back of Sam’s neck and down his shoulder blades, to his waist, his hips, sticky fingers stretching, running over hairs and scars and flexing abdominal muscle as they reach for his cock, slick, swollen, and heated as it meets her palm. Squeezing him closer to her, Sam groans, mouth pausing its assault on her chest, face falling flat into it, bucking harshly as she impatiently pulls him close, close, closer, writhing restlessly ’til her leggings are low enough for her thighs to part enough to let him in.

Incoherent, mumbled moans are hummed and panted into her tender chest, hands digging into the flesh of her waist as his shaft is squeezed and dragged against her sopping cunt. She moans, a languid, filthy thing as he meets her swollen, sensitive clit, the sodden cotton of her underwear brushing tortuously against it as she brashly pulls them aside.

His impatience builds, fingers digging into her deeper and deeper until they become restless and tug fiercely at her leggings. She hisses sharply as her naked back scrapes suddenly against the floor, her body shunted downwards til one of her legs are fully exposed to air, allowing Sam to hook his knee under hers, pushing up harshly and pinning her thighs apart- access that they’re both burning for. She urges him on with a whine as he pushes down on top of her, words lost to the both of them, communication reduced to vying grunts and desperate writhing.

His pupils dilate enough to make him look feral, purple-flecked irises madly dancing left, right, up, down, as if committing the sight of her, greedy and parched, to memory, before he finally complies, long groan grating out of him as his tip breaches her slightly. He can’t hesitate any longer. His lips part as his thick cock sinks into her inexorably, leaving her completely pliant beneath him. Despite how impossibly wet she is, the stretch is still so intense- she feels like she’s being split in two; it’s both the best and worst thing she’s ever felt, but something she never wants to end.

“S-ss…” She hisses, screwing her face up in frustration as she tries and fails to say his name, nails digging into him more. “Pl-P…” She grunts again, frustrated with her inability to conjure words. Her thighs tremble, the sharp, tight warmth in her stomach tugging and pulling and obliterating every sense as she tightens around him, eyes flickering, rolling back almost painfully as he fills her deep, retracts, and fills again, each time not stopping until he’s buried to the hilt.

For a moment, head spinning, he stares down at the way her head falls back, eyes squeezing shut, arms flopping, knuckles smacking against the ground as she traps a warbled cry behind her teeth, greedily sucking him into her. He grunts, brows drawn together, and thinks he’ll never be sated again like this. It's perfect. If only it weren't manufactured.

Heat sears him apart from the inside out, savage gluttony evident in the way he gasps and he groans when his hips slam forward, over and over, pressed so tightly against her that each movement reverberates astoundingly against her clit. She’s so tight, so perfect, so wet, around him as she whines and bucks up into him.

Sam holds her down; hand pinning forearm, fingers digging deeply into stomach and waist, knee prying thigh from purple-stained thigh, pumping into her at a relentless pace; She groans as he harshly works her open, arching into him as her stomach tightens— tighter, tighter, tighter, until she’s screaming, unpinned arm smacking into his back, nails clawing crescents into his sweat-slicked skin as another wave of arousal floods every sense of her being.

She can’t breathe- she doesn’t want to- the energy needed to do so would take away from the white hot pleasure coursing through every inch of her. Liquid gushes, her cunt clamping down hot around him and squeezing, milking him so tight it makes him choke on his own sharp inhale, so good it burns- it’s almost excruciating. He shudders as he breaks, palm slamming against the floor to hold himself up when he comes, too.

She groans at the fullness and the warmth of him spilling inside her, breath coming out in messy, uneven bursts as she feels herself suck in every drop.

For a moment, she watches him come down from his peak, heavy-lidded eyes grazing over the vulnerable crease in his brow, the way his cheeks flush as he catches his breath above her, and his parted lips- she wants to kiss him. Sweetly. She wants him to let her show him she's not a ‘kid’. She wants to feel what it's like to be wanted by him. She's strong, capable, undeniably and irrevocably attracted to him, and… God… She still feels hot. Despite coming twice- or is it three times, now- the need for more is already becoming unbearable, and she fails to decipher if these thoughts are coming from the chemical festering in her veins, or if they're being made apparent due to its diminishing strength. She stings. Oh, she's a mess.

He’s still hard inside her, twitching, demanding still. The question gnaws at her, but her body burns for more, more, more. He slows above her, the lack of physical stimulation, and the completely deriding overstimulation of her mental state making her eyes water. She wriggles slightly, an impatient grunt echoing around the small room as she tries to roll her hips under him. The stillness of his cock inside her has her mewling, still spasming softly around him.

“S- Sam-” She sputters, eyes widening in realisation of her somewhat rehabilitated ability to speak.

For just a few seconds his mind’s feverish occupation dilutes, replaced with a glimpse of a soft, sated afterglow… he falters, his mouth hanging open like there’s something he wants to say. 

“Mm…more. Need more.” She beats him to it, murmuring between shallow breaths, feeling the rising ache cloud her mind already.

His heart thuds so fast it’s a surprise it’s not sat in his throat- is it gratitude he’s trying to muster? Or, an admission perhaps? “I-” Just like her, the words are fighting to get out of him, but just as he strings a sentence together in his head, he starts to tense again. “Gotta… I- I’m-”

For a second, she feels sympathetic as she watches him war with himself. But her body doesn’t let the sympathy hang about for long, and she finds herself making his mind up for him, tugging him down by the back of the neck, tongue meeting tongue as she ferociously bucks up, calf hooking around thigh to pull him tight against her, giving her leverage to twist her hips and roll them both around.

It burns, the white hot anticipation, and he can barely move. His brain has been dumbed down; near-irrevocably stuck between wanting to split her open again, to keep biting and bruising and claiming, or to actually feel- to savour her in her entirety. His indecisive stupor makes him ache even more, brows knitting together tightly as his mind tries and fails to establish where to go next.

Sam can barely process anything outside of the softness of her sticky palm on his chest, the ridges of her fingerprints and the gentle sharpness each time her nails brush against his skin as she pushes him against the ground. She rolls her hips, soft curses spilling out of her lips as she feels his hands clumsily dig into her ass. He shuts his eyes, head lulling sideways as he swallows hard, choosing to feel.

Grip loosening momentarily, his eyes open at the feeling of her fingers branching up, wrapping themselves around his throat; loose, but just enough pressure that he can feel his own pulse reverberate against her thumb. She squeezes harder, turning him to face her, his head numbing with a pleasurable fizz as his vision transfixes on her.

He's too tired to fight against her- truth be told, he probably wouldn't try if he did have the strength. Jesus, she's so pretty, he thinks. Well that makes a change. Significantly less violent than the thoughts circulating his head earlier. She could squeeze tighter and tighter if she wanted, and he still wouldn't protest if it meant he could watch her, like this, from underneath her. Especially when she comes again, back arching as she moans like a fucking animal- and still she doesn't stop.

“So- you’re-” Between the pressure on his throat, her relentless pace, and his own spasmodic panting, he can barely string a sentence together, “s-damn tight- so good- fuck.”

He finds himself completely and utterly caught up in how tight she still feels around him- how fucking gorgeous she looks with her eyebrows drawn tightly together, eyelids heavy as she ferociously rocks her hips, stomach flexing, tits bouncing- the speckled bruises and drying blood stippled across her neck and collarbones- and then there's a hard pang of guilt; he did that to her- made her bleed- infected her- it's his fault that she's being made to give him this-- exactly… what he's wanted…for months.

He expects the thrumming ache to cloud him over again, but it never comes. Instead, a strange clarity claws its way through the haze of his mind. This is what he has longed for for months, but now that it's here, the moment is tainted by anguish. It took this entire horrible ordeal to force him to act upon his feelings, and he mourns the likelihood that this will be the one and only time he gets to be this close to her.

And then, beneath the sorrow and the dread, there lies a deeper, more corrosive guilt. It gnaws at him, a conscience-grating burden that leaves him nauseous. Despite the mental torment, despite everything, his body betrays him, running rife with boiling hot pleasure. The contradiction tears at him, a cruel reminder of his own skewed morality and the complex, painful nature of his...is it his love for her?

The obscene squelching sounds and the wetness leaking out of her and down her inner thighs, forming small puddles on his skin, and the floor, and, fuck, as she murmurs an exhausted plea, the taste he's getting of being wanted- needed- used by her- it all sends him over the edge.

She whimpers and falls into him, moaning incoherently into the crook of his neck as her fingers tighten, nails scraping against stubble, and-- jesus, he's coming again.

His hands meet her upper back, holding her down as he fills her once more, rasped groans and a string of murmured curses vibrate against her skin as he swallows against her hand. He holds onto her selfishly, savouring the feeling of her weight on top of his- bare skin on bare skin, the way she seeks comfort in him- he's thought about this countless times… and he hates how much he's enjoying the consent-less reality of it.

Her movements slow, becoming sloppier, lazier, her energy dwindling as she tries to chase the release she desperately needs. She whimpers, tears squeezing out of the corners of her eyes, dampening Sam's shoulder as they fall, and she finds her swollen, sensitive clit with one hand while the other moves from his throat to his hair.

He continues to hold her as his sensitive cock twitches inside her, nose nuzzling into her hair as he whispers; "Did you...?"

She shakes her head, a soft whimper coming out of her as she tries to push herself into another orgasm. The sound of his voice. Raw, raspy, quiet in her ears makes her tear up even more, and all of a sudden, her body's pursuit of pleasure has become torturous. She looks at Sam, his eyes clearer, amber flecks of colour visible again, his expression one of concern and exhaustion. Guilt churns in her stomach, sharp and nauseating, as the fog in her mind grows lighter by the second- the physical pain persists.

Her body, still wracked by the effects of the drug, betrays her with every shiver, flush of heat, and every desperate circle of her fingertips. She feels humiliated, the intense need now a source of shame, tucking her head back into his shoulder as she arches her back despite herself. Tears well up in her eyes, and she can’t meet Sam's eyes. "I... I'm so sorry," she whispers, her voice breaking. "I still need to-" she sniffs, "I can't- hurts."

Sam’s heart aches at the sight of her distress, and he nods, one hand smoothing down to her soft hip as the other stays on her back. He breathes in the scent of her hair, wanting to savour the moment- hell, he probably won't see her again if this is how she's reacting before she's fully recovered.

He wants more of her, he knows he does. But he's sensitive… and the clarity is still there. The clarity. The stabbing, blunt, serrated knife sawing in and out of his gut that makes him realise that he's never going to have this again. And that none of it was real anyway. But she sobs, and the sting in his chest wanes from his pain to hers. For now, curing hers takes precedence. 

Gently, he pushes against her, and exhausted, she complies, rolling back round to her back, eyes closed, borderline hyperventilating. He pulls her hand from between her legs and she huffs out a shaky breath.

“Sorry…hgnn- I'm sorry.” She whispers, her chest tightening.

He watches her try to cover her face with her forearm, and as he slides out of her, she sobs quietly, tensing her thighs together and rocking her hips softly to try and give her clit the friction it needs as she's left empty.

He rubs the palm of her hand with his thumb, gently lacing his fingers between hers, eyes glued to the way their skin glistens with their mixed arousal. “None’a that.” He says, squeezing her hand as he gently pries her thighs apart. “Not your fault.”

She whimpers up to the ceiling.

“God, it really hurts, Sam.”

“I know, sweetheart.” He holds himself up on an elbow and exhales. His free hand traverses down her torso, giving her waist a reassuring squeeze before reaching between her thighs.

She keens at the nickname, making a shuddered whimper as his fore and middle fingers gather some of the copious amount of shared arousal, rubbing against her carefully.

“This okay?”

Her chin trembles as she nods. “I need more.” She whispers, and almost immediately he pushes two fingers knuckle-deep into her aching cunt, pearlescent slick oozing out onto the palm of his hand down to his wrist. She squeezes his hand instinctively, a groan bubbling out of her throat.

His eyes follow the trail as his fingers stroke her from the inside and his thumb flicks softly at her clit, her soft moans permeating his mind. He's hard again; the thick liquid warms his wrist as it trickles down further, up to where the veins in his forearm meet the inside of his elbow- the veins that were deep purple not too long ago. He looks at his hand, then her thigh; still a small webbing of colour coming from the bite mark, whilst nowhere to be seen on him.

He swallows. There's a soft haze over his brain again, but it's gentle this time. Normal, even, bar the bittersweetness of it all. There's no burn. No malicious desire eating away at him… He just wants to savour her; to soothe, to make her feel better. She looks so ashamed. He wants to take that away from her.

Sam glances back up at her, eyes shut and arm crossed to cover her chest and it feels like a kick in the stomach. He purposely slows his hand, and her eyes open.

Before she can choke out another plea, he leans over her again, pressing his lips to hers gently, slowly building up his hand’s pace as he feels her sigh heavily. His chest thuds as he takes the time to memorise the softness of her lips, acknowledging that this might be the only time he gets to be so soft with her. It breaks his heart- another unforseen circumstance.

Her stomach flutters as he kisses her, the unexpected softness of it making more tears prick at her eyes as he works her closer to her peak. She moves her arm from her chest back to his hair, gently massaging his scalp.

After a moment, he moves from her lips, gently licking and pecking at each bruise and break in her delicate skin, relieved that there's no more purple, but unable to shake the guilt as he mutters apologies interspersed with each break for breath.

She squeezes his hand back, her whole body tensing.

His mouth traverses lower; down her sternum, all the way to her lower abdomen, until he reaches the tops of her thighs, where tacky quickly turns to wet as he moves lower still. Her breath catches as his eyes lock onto hers, and her lips part slightly, a subtle invitation, or perhaps merely surprise, but it's enough to keep him rooted, suspended between action and restraint as he feels himself salivate. In that silence, he waits, desperately vying for the smallest sign of consent.

She winces, her body aching as it waits for release, but she doesn't break eye contact. Instead, she takes a deep breath, and her fingers, trembling, unhook from his and reach out to rest on his jaw, her thumb brushing lightly against his lower lip. It's so brief and gentle it almost feels imagined. Yet, it's there— an undeniable gesture that heats his blood- organically, this time; He tastes them both on her skin and fuck, it's nothing short of heavenly. 

He swallows, eyes flitting around, learning the sight of her by heart before looking back up at her. He licks again and his cock twitches.

With a mixture of reverence and hunger, he closes the distance between them, movements measured and purposeful, each stroke of his tongue filled with a tenderness that belies all of the turmoil eating away inside him.

Her grip on his hair tightens as she sighs up to the ceiling. He loses a little restraint as she breathes out his name, begging him for more, and small, neat licks turn more rabid when his hand wraps around his shaft. He pumps himself with the same intensity as his tongue as it works in and out of her, his soft groans making her hips buck into his mouth as her breaths become more shallow.

She moans- cracked and raspy with exhaustion- at the feel of his lips, his nose, his tongue licking and sucking and savouring the satiating nectar dripping from between her trembling legs. His tongue broadens to gather and swallow before alternating to target her clit with the tip, wet and hot as he laps and swirls and buries in and around her. He tightens his fist around his cock, causing her stomach to roll as he moans into her- it's sloppy and messy and downright vulgar, but there's something so enamouring about his enthusiasm. His forearm wraps under her thigh, pulling her tight against his mouth as he grows closer to another climax of his own, and she gasps and arches even closer.

"Fuck, Sam-I, I'm-" she can feel him looking up at her as she struggles to string a sentence together, using the sight of her to coax his own pain-numbing, breathtaking orgasm. He moans, stimulating her tenfold as he releases warm ropes onto himself, his eyes rolling back as he near-suffocates against her.

He keeps going, and going, even when he lets go of himself to grip her stomach and pin her down- and she almost chokes, unable to breathe as she's utterly overwhelmed by the pleasure and the raw, visceral feelings for him that stabs relentlessly into her heart. She feels the pain raking its way through her body dissipate with each second that goes by.

He's so good. So fucking handsome.

She finally comes, a warbled cry trapped behind her teeth as her eyes squeeze shut and a rapturous wave of coolness floods her body. It's overwhelming- asphyxiating, even; tears streaming, fingers knotting rougher into his curls as he holds her tightly in place, devouring her through and past her climax. He takes and takes and takes-- shit, he loves this.

"S-sam,"

He loves this.

"Agh- Sam, pl- stop-"

He loves this. He fucking loves this- her. He- he loves-

She yanks hard enough on his hair that he's forced away from her with a pained hiss, gasping heavily like he hasn't taken a proper breath in minutes, his entire face from the bridge of his nose down glazed and glistening. He looks so pretty. She aches.

His eyes traverse, conflicted and somewhat melancholic from her thighs, up to her face, and she sees that he's... crying too. It's alien to her. What has she done to him?

She holds his gaze, her own eyes red-rimmed and tear-filled. The regret feels like a physical ache in her chest, mingling with the remnants of aftershock and the soreness between her legs and all over her broken skin across her thigh and décolletage. Despite the excruciating shame, she wants to reach out, to tell him that it's okay, that they had both been caught in the same storm. But the words don't come.

Instead, she sits up ever so slightly, wincing as she scoots closer, their bodies brushing as she nervously pulls his head to her shoulder; a tentative, fragile gesture, but she hopes it speaks volumes nonetheless. He stiffens at first, but eventually relaxes, his arm scooping beneath her to hold onto her gently.

She cradles his head against her, staring at the ceiling with tears pooling at the corners of her eyes. The physical pain was dulled now, but the emotional ache was fierce. She had never fantasised it being like this, tainted by necessity and confusion, and she doesn't know what to do. It's suffocating.

For a moment, they both just breathe, soaking in the sickly, unfiltered aftermath of the whole ordeal.

Minutes pass, or maybe hours—they've lost all sense of time in this weird fucking space where the boundaries have been irreparably corroded. They're cold. Exhausted. Emotionally bare. And now he feels like a damn coward, letting her stroke his hair and cradle him against her chest, after all he's put her through. He grits his teeth in an attempt to keep his watery eyes from spilling over.

But the attempt fails, and he hates how uncharacteristic this is. Screw this place. Screw Cassimir. Screw their client, screw his own greed that brought them here in the first place, and screw- fucking screw her for taking away his ability to remain a husk- and for letting him hurt her.

Finally, she pulls back as she feels her skin dampen and his shoulders jolt ever so slightly, her hand forcing his chin up. Her eyes search for him, and in that moment, she fully takes it in, and sees what she hopes to be the same fear, the same shame, and yet, the same insane level of care that has gnawed at her heart for so long.

Sam opens his mouth to speak as her brows furrow, but no words form, let alone come out, aside from a pathetic, choked sigh that hints at the tumult of emotions stirring inside him. His tongue rolls over his lip, and the lingering taste of them has him shudder and shut his eyes.

He can’t bring himself to look at her, the shame too sickening, too palpable. But then, as he pulls away, getting up to his knees as he fumbles with his jeans, he feels her hand on his arm, steadying him. He looks down, and in her eyes, he doesn't see pity, or accusation, but- and for a second he considers pinching himself- understanding, a non-verbal acknowledgment of his vulnerability.

Delicate and trembling, her fingers reach up to touch his face, tracing the line of his jaw as if to reassure herself that he is real, that this moment, however fleeting and fraught with confusion, was real. At least she'd have it stapled to her memory. Sam closes his eyes at her touch, a self deprecating huff leaving his lips. He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to her palm; a silent apology and a desperate plea for reassurance that she's actually thinking what he hopes she is. He even hazards a look to her thigh for any sign of coercion from the drug still coursing through her, but there's no purple in sight.

She reaches one of her arms above her head, just about reaching her shirt. She grunts in disgust, the material sodden, and she drops it back down with a shaky huff, the room's frigid temperature finally having an effect once more.

Sam pushes himself up again, rubbing his damp cheeks with the back of his hand as a sense of normalcy seeps back into his senses. And with that normalcy, grief.

He finds his t-shirt, quickly sliding it over his head despite the excess of sweat and bodily fluid covering both his skin and the material. He grimaces as it clings to him, and she watches on with a poignant shiver, pulling her knees to her chest after adjusting her soaked-through underwear, her boots scraping against the ground as she does so.

He clears his throat, picking up his plaid overshirt from where he'd discarded it earlier before looking over his shoulder at her as he pulls the sleeves through the right way. 

Someone has to speak sooner or later, she thinks, but can't bring herself to. Her nails scratch nervously at her skin as she weighs up what to do, trying not to cry at the prospect of Sam's walls being rebuilt so fast after pouring everything- mind, body, soul- into her moments ago. She feels so naive- so fucking silly-

“What was it you said earlier?”

Her head shoots up as he speaks, caught off guard by how much he sounds like his usual self. Charming, cocky, collected.

She tilts her head slightly, her eyebrows drawing together and her eyes narrowing in a mix of confusion and curiosity. Her lips part just enough to show she's on the verge of speaking, but she holds back, waiting for his next words to clarify the moment.

He extends his shirt out to her, lips quirking into a soft, somewhat reassuring smile. She looks at him for a moment, taking the shirt and putting it on.

“Somethin’ about an HR department?”

She looks at him, a soft laugh fluttering to the surface. It's a quiet sound, tinged with shyness and still wrapped in the lingering sadness of their shared ordeal. Her eyes lower for a moment, the weight of everything that happened settling in.

Seeing her reaction, Sam gets up and moves to where her water flask lies discarded. He unscrews the cap and pours some onto a clean part of his t-shirt. She begins to button her shirt, but he stops her, silently asking for a moment longer.

“Can I?”

She lets go of the shirt, and with gentle, still slightly shaky hands, he dabs the wet cotton softly over her wound-ridden skin.

She watches him, the sadness in her eyes gradually giving way to something softer, his tenderness speaking volumes. As he continues to tend to her wounds, his mouth twists in thought, like there's something he wants to say. So he does.

“I'm sorry.”

He's not the type to apologise, so eye contact is impossible.

“What?”

He continues dabbing at her skin in silence.

“Sam.”

She covers his hand, stopping him from finding any other distraction.

“You didn't ask for this."

He frowns. “I- I just put you through… somethin’ not far off of assault, and your response is-”

“No. Not one part of that was assault-”

“She says, as I wipe up blood from bites I gave her.”

“Yeah, with the mouth that's covered in my cum.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but he can't find anything to say. His cheeks redden.

She sighs again. They're going in circles and she wants to put an end to it all- she's tired. Filthy. Possibly concussed. Which she uses to excuse what she does next.

“Can I try something?” she asks. Fuck it.

“Try what?"

Without another word, she steps closer, her eyes searching for any sign of protest. When she finds none, she leans in and kisses him, her lips soft and warm against his, holding none of the desperation or haze of their previous encounter, completely free from the influence of any perverted pill or potion.

What's she got to lose?

Sam is shocked at first, his body tensing. He instinctively pulls her off, his eyes flitting around her face as his jaw loosens and tightens in search of something to say.

Her heart sinks and she steps back, “Thought so,” she smiles sadly, backing away, knowing it was a mistake to try. "Can we... can we get out of here?"

He should hate himself, right? He's gone against everything he's ever stood for- let every non-committal brick he's built since teenagehood crumble to dust. He's gone soft. Sentimental. By force, to begin with, yet he still hasn't stopped himself. It's… Pleasant. Is this the balance Cassimir fetishised over?

Screw it, he decides, Because if he has to stand by and watch her grow apart from him when she's just shown the same as- if not more vulnerability than him, what use are a few walls?

He pulls her back, his lips finding hers again. This time, it's different- there’s no urgency, no magical compulsion, but rather something deep- genuine. The kiss is tender, filled with all the emotions they’ve been too afraid to voice, and he feels years worth of tension escape him. His sore muscles loosen, hands cupping her face softly, and she melts into him.

When they finally pull apart, their foreheads rest together, and this alone feels infinitely more intimate than anything that had transpired beforehand.

"So... is it safe to assume that we're both on the same page, or...?" She swallows hard, her voice barely above a whisper, but her usual playfulness breaks through, and it makes him smile.

"What, that we're both in dire need of some good laundry detergent and a shower? Or was there somethin' else on your mind?"

She snorts, gently kicking his shin, the enormity of months worth of repressed feelings finally worn on the proverbial sleeve. She takes a deep breath, the worry in her eyes softening as she looks at him.

"We have a lot to figure out."

He chews the inside of his lip contemplatively, still not entirely sure there’s any reason why she’s being so gracious. So calm, despite it all, like he deserves any of it.

There’s a beat.

And then he nods. Because that’s why she makes his entire psyche shift off-kilter- makes him notice his bad habits.

"We'd… uh, better cash those vials in."

She sees a million-and-one thoughts behind his eyes, but he needs to rest. So she waits, head tilted, suspecting he's got something else to add. 

"How else am I supposed to afford a five-star first date?"

The other million thoughts can wait.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭

I promise to write something short and funny next time x

[illuminatedvisage]

these hands in tightly hidden fists.

Pairing: Jing Yuan x (GN) Reader Summary: It is a late night, and the General's mind wanders. Warnings: Ineffectual Pining, Smut (sort of) Notes: 1.6k words of Jing Yuan being cockblocked by his own sense of morality. Title and quote taken from "So We Must Meet Apart" by Gabrielle Bates & Jennifer S. Cheng

jing yuan notices the earrings first—small, bright gems set on a thin chain, hanging like stars from your delicate earlobes. then your hair, styled with more care than usual, and the new perfume that stains your wrist with a faint scent that he strains himself to catch, to catalogue into the breadth of information he has carefully collected about you. your clothes are as usual, neat and formal, as is your manner, except for the way you sometimes fiddle with the hem of your sleeve and cast longing looks out the window while he reads your report.

that is to say, jing yuan notices you quite a bit and today, there is something different about you.

“you look lovely today,” he says after some time has passed. the seat of divine foresight has emptied out for the day, save for the few guards that stand at attention by the door; he would have gone by now too and released them from duty, if he hadn’t been expecting you. it is rare enough that your work brings the two of you together, and since your promotion at the divination commission, the master diviner has kept you busy adjusting and readjusting the nodes on the matrix of prescience to keep up with her constant calculations. you have a talent for it, attuned to the fine details of your surroundings, so he wonders why you always seem to miss the glaring fact of his love for you.

“oh, thank you, general,” you say, suddenly going shy. your gaze travels around the room, from walls to window and even to the guards, landing on anything but him. it’s adorable, the way you avoid his eyes even though you want, eagerly, to share something—another of your mannerisms that jing yuan has filed away in his heart.

would it be too much to hope that you had dressed up just to see him? that you had made yourself prettier than you already are for his eyes alone? it is presumptuous to think that he is in your thoughts as often as you are on his, but he does it anyway. he allows his eyes to linger on your mouth, the way it curves into the trace of a smile at his next question.

“is there a particular occasion?”

“i have dinner with someone later,” you let out like a confession, in one breathless, rushed whisper. the answer is so incomprehensible that he doesn’t register it at first. not until you start fiddling with the earring that caught his eye, twisting the chain around your finger. he wonders if it’s a gift from the person you are seeing tonight. he wonders how it would feel to tug it off your earlobe with his teeth. “general?”

there is a waxy feeling in his throat, so thick that you could scrape it off with a fingernail, at the thought of you with someone else. someone you might be directing that secretive smile toward. someone whose arm you might be touching as you lean in close, close enough to let them catch a brief taste of your perfume—

“general?”

“i see.” jing yuan clears his throat, looking for his words, which have all suddenly fled him. “where will you be dining?”

“we have reservations at the sleepless earl. i know, i know,” you laugh a little, “not that exciting, but i hear the storyteller is starting a tale about the high-cloud quintet tonight and i don’t want to miss the opening. it’ll be decades before he tells it again.” the smile you give him then makes the muscle in his jaw jump. “and afterwards, we might take a starskiff to the exalting sanctum. the luofu is passing close to a binary star system tonight…”

his hands tighten around the scroll containing your report—the detection of cosmological time dilation patterns in three-body starquake ruptures—your voice gone soft and muddled in his head as he tries to get his jaw to unclench, so that he might beg you—and if we’re lucky, they might set off an aurora that we can see from the pavilion—if he could only say something that would keep you by his side, instead of, of—owing to the expansion of space in ten to the third dimensions upon point of impact, we can predict that the best course of action for the alliance—he doesn’t want to lose you, doesn’t want to give you up to this person who has done what he has failed to—it’s quite a romantic spot, actually—has caught the tail of your bright comet—

with a wash of sick, nervous heat, jing yuan realizes that he could. he could keep you from going out tonight under the guise of work, have you explain to him in charts and calculations and the graceful arc of your hands those elegant predictions which were your life’s work. he could always count on you to put your duty to the xianzhou luofu first, even if it meant making others unhappy.

one night might unfold into another into another as he lures you into his trap. he could start now. dismiss the guards. demand your time. steal a touch or two, first at your wrist, then your elbow, narrowing the distance between you by degrees as he bids you to lean over the desk and explain to him some prediction he pretends not to understand—all the while he looks not at the report, as you might have believed, but at the column of your unmarked throat that he longs to sink his teeth into like a claim. a night like that repeated a dozen times over. how long would it take you to sense him prowling at the edges of your comfort? to realize how close you have already allowed him?

how long would you be able to hold out against him?

jing yuan cares for you, cares what you think of him, and so your seduction would be as patient and meticulous as any strategy he’s executed. perhaps, after so many nights like that, alone together, he might ask you for a drink. tea or wine, whatever your preference, he’d offer to pour you a cup if you returned the favor. one drink becoming two becoming more, just like the hours he’d steal away from you, your tired head dipping into your chest as you struggle to stay awake in his company.

he’d have moved to your side of the table by then, offered you his shoulder to lean on; polite and trusting as you are, he doubts you would have questioned it as you drift into a haze of half-sleep. he’d stroke your shoulder, then your cheek, the crown of your lovely hair. he’d take the teacup from your slackening grasp and marvel at the sensation of your hand in his, at the delicate points of your fingertips, the soft cup of your palm that he cannot help but kiss. perhaps you would have woken, and if not, he’d take the time to memorize your hands, to slip his tongue between your fingers and nip at the sensitive skin between pointer and thumb.

you’d wake with a gasp, and he would turn his head to swallow the sound.

your lips—they’d be divine, he knows it, stained with the flavor of your drink, bitter and sweet as he coaxes you open on his tongue. he’d like it if you kissed him back, hand tangling in his long hair. he’d like it if you sighed, meltingly, into his embrace; if your supple body arched beneath his wandering hands. there, he’d show the first and only sign of his impatience, working them into your clothes so he could feel the heat rising beneath your skin and know for certain that you felt it too—that you were filled with a need as powerful as his own.

he’d take you on whatever surface was available, on the floor, on his desk. he would lay you out and fit himself between the spread of your legs, fingers probing inside you—at first one, then two, then three if you could take it. he thinks you could. he would do it slow, a precise calculation of what would bring you the most pleasure; if you whined, he’d only go slower. with just his fingers he could make you fall apart. he imagines you gnawing at your lips, slick with spit as you moan into the tabletop, your body slick around his fingers as he fucks them into you.

how would you feel on his cock? squirming as he splits you open or holding yourself breathlessly still? his hands on your hips as he presses himself into the heat of you, hoping to leave bruises that you’ll remember tomorrow and tomorrow after that. he’d fuck you however you’d like—slow, hard, fast, soft. he’d fuck you until you saw stars sparking beneath the cover of your closed eyes, no need to look outside, to look away from him at all. he’d make you come again and again, slack jawed, clawing at the his shoulders, addicted to the push and pull of him inside you. you’d ask him for more and he would give it to you gladly.

bent over like this, you wouldn’t be able to see him at all. he is grateful for that. what would you think if you saw that hunger so naked on his face, which he has only ever shown you so indolently calm? he is not known as a man of large appetites, but for you he is a wild, starving thing. for you— for you—

“general?”

jing yuan smiles at you, locking those thoughts of you behind the placid expression on his face. you haven’t noticed anything at all, and why should you? it is a mask that has not slipped for hundreds of years, unlike his next words, which slip loose without him meaning to.

“i hate to keep you longer than i should, but if you wouldn’t mind…”

A/N: i want him so bad i look stupid i know. i feel like jing yuan is just a little bit of an asshole but he tries hard not to be because he is also very aware of the power he has over people and knows that he could exploit them all too easily. but i really, really want him to (: anyway i like my jing yuans literally sick with longing. will i ever let him fuck for real???? stay tuned for more.

[marlsswrites]

Books and Red Hair

Ice skating AU, part 6!!

August 6th - words: 1109

First part Previous part

James would quite like to think he was extra welcome at a library, but that’s just not true. He’s clumsy, he knocks books over and can’t whisper to save his life. He’s always either too quiet or loud enough to get himself kicked out. Last time he came to this specific library, the local one to his university, he played full volume music on his AirPods - blissfully unaware that everyone around him could hear.

So how someone managed to get him back in here was a mystery, but here he is anyway.

He trailed behind Lily like a lost puppy, keeping his hands firmly to himself and not the bookshelves.

“James you look petrified.” Lily laughed out in a hushed tone.

“I’ve been told multiple times that I am severely not wanted here.” He hissed.

Lily blinked at him a few times, raising an eyebrow and flashed him an awfully unimpressed look. “What did you do?”

“Me, Rem, pads and Pete might have started a small fire in here last year.” He bit his lip to stop the smug smile from forming on his face, clearly the look still flamed alight in his eyes.

“Don’t look so proud.” She swatted his arm. “I only brought you here because you promised me a coffee after work.”

He and Lily worked in the same little record store down the street, well it used to be just records, now there’s comics, posters, collectables, CDs, everything like that honey. They’ll normally pop into a cafe after, treating themselves to a coffee before going home, but today Lily needed to grab some studying materials from the library.

“Stay here.” She said as she started to walk away.

“I’m not a child!” James protested.

“Sure!” She flashed a sarcastic smile over her shoulder as he went, leaving James with a frown on his face as he wandered through the tables of people studying, taking a seat at one of them without paying attention to anyone around him.

-

After about five minutes, he started to pick up some of the hushed whispering around him as the sound of a few people sitting in front of him hit his ears. Now he fiddled with the pages of the random book he’d swiped from the shelf and - innocently - eavesdropped after he swore he heard a voice he knew.

“Reg can you help?” A hushed female voice sounded after a few flicks of a page.

“Yeah.” A familiar voice responded. “One second Cas.”

His head slowly lifted, a smirk appearing on his face as he realised who had sat next to him.

“Hi.” He propped his head on his hands and drummed his fingers against his cheek.

The girl only gave him a confused look, she had dark shining skin, adorned with a couple of dainty tattoos and stacked jewellery that reminded him of the stuff that Lily likes to wear. But she wasn’t the one James was looking at.

“What are you doing in a library?” Regulus gave a raise of his eyebrow.

“Okay ouch, and actually I’m just waiting for my friend to finish finding - uh - whatever she needs.” He shrugged.

“So that’s why you’re reading The Great Gatsby - but specifically the blank page at the front?”

His eyes flicked down to the book, where the only words written were ‘The Great Gatsby.’

“It has some writing on it.” He proclaimed.

Regulus just hummed, no sign of emotion on his pale, blank face, yet it seemed to hold the world. His eyes like once grey clouds drowning in water, his skin as milky and smooth as a white silk pillowcase, his hair curled perfectly and dark as it hung around his face like Medusas snakes danced.

“I’m sorry, how do you two know each other?” The girl - Cas he thinks - interrupted. “Because I could swear that Regulus here doesn’t talk to anyone.”

“I talk to you!” Regulus bickered. “And Barty, Evan and Pandora.” He counted on his fingers.

“Four whole people.” Cas gasped.

Stifling a laugh, James simply watched as the two went back and fourth, clearly playfully as they argued. Still, Regulus looked beautiful with a scowl, even better with a smile though. Even better while he skated, face stoic and wondrous, face on full display and body moving like a puppet controlled by the god of love herself.

“And me.” James smiled and battered his eyelashes, Regulus pointed and nodded.

“You never answered my question.” Cas pondered, looking between the two boys suspiciously.

Stuttering out an answer, James realises he didn’t actually have just one.

“Tried to buy a book, stalked me, stalked me again, and is apparently friends with my brother and my coach’s son.”

“Hey now, I didn’t stalk you. I-“ But he cut himself off when he saw the slightly smiling face of Regulus Black - covered slightly by his baggy sleeve - but still there. The end of his pen was placed between his teeth and a silver glint on his tongue catching the sun and shining like the star the paler boy is.

“I know.” He shook his head, still smirking slightly as he moved the pen to his page, scribbling slightly and leaving James to stare at the way a ring was slid onto every single pale finger, shining bright and jewelled - as he said - like the star he is.

-

Stretches of comfortable quiet later, he felt a hand tap his arm as the silence surrounded him. “I’m done.” Lily smiled and held up the books and couple of bookmarks up with a squeal. “You owe me a coffee, let’s go.”

“Right.” He looked between the redhead and the other two, Regulus’ head still in his book but the once cal, expression had been covered by one of tension and thorns sharp as daggers. “Bye!” He waved as he and Lily left.

“Yeah, bye.” He heard dully before he walked away, the sunlight splashing in on him as soon as he stepped outside, blinding his eyes and burning into his skin.

“I bought my girlfriend this,” Lily waved up a little flowery pin that she’d picked up from the library store she’d insisted on looking in seconds beforehand. “Isn’t it adorable.”

“The cutest.” James winked with a smile.

Yet he still couldn’t get the anguished expression of a star from his mind, burning holes into the once bright irises of his eyes, stabbing into his once radiating heart. Oh what he would do to wipe it away with one quick swipe of love, leave that smile on his face that he seems to feel the need to hide.

Someone like Regulus Black shouldn’t be hidden, he’s much too special for that.

Next part

[stormberry-12]

fuck, i think i love you ~ jj maybank

pairing ~ jj maybank x fem!reader

warnings ~ language, slight angst at the beginning ig, and then fluff :)

notes ~ my first tumbler blurb! It might be kinda bad idk. lowercase intended. I'm going to open up requests soon! hope ya'll have a good day, stay safe <3

"DING DONG!" you shout excessively loud, smirking at the sign on the front door of the chateau. jj's messy handwriting and logic to solve the situation made you giggle.

john b's broken doorbell had been an ongoing inside joke for a while now. though you knew you were always welcome in the chateau you stood out there like a dork just to make jb work extra hard today.

after a few moments, john b walked over to open the door, "hey, y/n! what's with the yelling?"

you just pointed at the sign on his house and smirked, jb rolled his eyes and mumbled something along the lines of 'jj you dumb ass-' and 'it's not that funny,' before stepping aside to let you in.

"i'm actually headed out, i think jay's in his room. I'll see ya in a bit" he ruffled your hair and you swatted his hand away.

"k, thanks bird shit," you stuck your tongue out at him as he exited the house with a salute. suddenly feeling nervous you took a deep breath and walked over to the guest bedroom that jj had claimed as his own, knocking lightly.

you were greeted by a sleepy-looking jj, his shaggy blonde hair was sticking out in all directions and he squinted his eyes at the sunlight coming from the window behind you. his icy blue eyes widened as they adjusted and settled on your soft features.

"uhm- y/n, hi, uh-" he studdered over his words.

"can i come in?" you asked quietly.

he nodded and you walked into the dark room sitting on the bed, "sorry if I woke you up..." you started trying to break the tension.

"s'all good," he replied sitting next to you and immediately starting to fiddle with his rings and stare down at his feet. god, this was awkward.

"so uh, yesterday..."

"yesterday," he repeated your words and sighed softly. you both snuck a glance at each other, locking eyes you both blushed furiously and looked back down at the floor. you mentally shamed yourself for not planning out what you were going to say to jj before you got here. a gut-wrenching silence stuffed the room for what felt like an eternity before he spoke up.

"'m sorry, i kissed you,"

your heart shattered. you didn't want him to regret it.

" it was kinda spur of the moment, an I don't know what I was... shit-" he struggled to force some type of coherent words to come out of his mouth as he ran a hand through his messy hair.

"stop beating yourself up jay," you interjected. "i'm sorry for getting all flustered and running out like that. it wasn't fair to you-"

"no, no, you had every right to leave. i was being stupid and it was so random, and i feel so dumb-" his voice faltered. you both looked up again and for the first time ever you saw panic and insecurity in jj maybank's eyes.

"jayj..." you said softly, bringing your hand up to his cheek. "your not stupid and your not dumb,"

he leaned his cheek into your palm, "i'm sorry, I messed up, it won't happen again y/n/n. i promise." he linked his pinky finger with yours, something you both subconsciously did together when you made each other a promise.

but you pulled your finger away.

" jj," you brought your other hand up to his other cheek so you were holding his face in between your palms, forcing him to look at you. "i think i might regret running away more than you regret that kiss,"

his eyes filled with confusion before you brought his face closer to yours and pressed your lips to his. he inhaled sharply before kissing you back. electricity erupted through your body just like it had the night before. you both pulled away to breathe.

" i'm so fuckin confused right now," jj deadpanned and you giggled. "but fuck, i think i love you,"

you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his neck, and he hugged you back. there was a silent understanding of your feelings for each other and your hearts warmed. "i love you too jay,"

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Hi hi! I love your work it’s honestly some of my favorite! Your recent Larissa x reader was 🔥🔥 I saw your prompt list and thought 60 and 62 sounded a little fun🤭 for maybe another Larissa x reader?

Heyyyy anon! Thank you, I’m so glad you enjoyed my Larissa fics 🫶🏻 I’d be honored to write this for you (it was so much fun)!! I heard a song which inspired me a bit🤭

Bad Chick ~Larissa Weems xFem Teacher!Reader

Mommy…Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

#60. “You broke the rules…”

#62. “I might do something I’ll regret…”

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!, smut, fingering, masturbation, orgasm denial, edging, edging kink, mommy kink, praise kink, bratting, brat kink, bondage kink…?, etc.

Enjoy (;

Larissa sat by her fireplace, shoes kicked off, with a glass of wine in her hand.

It had been one hell of a week…

She sighed and took a sip of her wine.

She heard a creak of the door as you walked in.

“Hey Ris’.” You exhaled, also tired from all the grading you had done today.

“Hey, love.” She sighed back.

You fell into a chair next to her with a huff and began to fiddle with your fingers.

After minutes of silence, Larissa looked up at you with skepticism.

“What is it, Darling?”

“Sorry?” You were drawn out from your fantasies by Larissa’s words.

“What do you want? You never give me this pouty puppy act unless you want something.” She chuckled lightly.

You blushed furiously and looked down sheepishly.

“Fuck me?” You murmered.

Larissa hummed in approval of having been right and having read you so accurately.

“So my baby’s horny?” She teased lightly.

You nodded.

“Let me finish my wine, darling, and then I will fuck you, alright?”

“But I want you now…” you whined.

Larissa cocked an eyebrow at you.

“You can wait.”

“But what if I can’t?”

“Oh for Gods sake Y/N! Do not test me right now.” Larissa huffed.

“But Larissa…” you whined, making Larissa look over to you, preparing to give you a death stare to intimidate you.

But she found something else entirely…

You had swung your legs around each side of the chair and you were leaning against the back of the chair with your soaked cunt on full display…

“I need you…” you whined, as your fingers ghosted over your clit.

“Don’t. You. Dare.” Larissa growled.

“Then come help me…!” You huffed.

“No. Stop being a brat and maybe I’ll reward you after my wine.”

You huffed in response.

Larissa thought you were going to listen, but then she heard you moan.

Her eyes widened and her mouth stood agape as she watched you actually disobey her…

You had never been this bratty…

Never bratty enough to be fucking yourself in front of her when she had clearly told you no.

Larissa was stunned.

Lust and fire exploded in her veins…

She watched intensely as you thrusted your own fingers into your aching core, moaning away.

With every thrust, her blood began to boil more and more…

She waited until you were on the very edge which you needed so badly.

You were crying out desperately at this point.

“Fuck Rissa’! Im gonna cum!”

Larissa was fuming at this point, “Don’t you dare cum.” She sternly said.

“Or what?” You wiggled your eyebrows at her with hooded eyes.

“Or I might do something I’ll regret… Darling…” she stared you down with lustful intent.

You met her stare as you slipped another finger into your heat, letting out a pornographic moan while quickly approaching your edge.

But before you could go over edge, Larissa had lunged over to you and ripped your hand away.

“Oh do you have my attention now, Darling…” Larissa chuckled darkly.

~~~

She had been edging you for hours now.

And you were a tear stained, sex puddle.

Tied up to all four of her bedposts…

Vibrator relentlessly edging your clit…

Her skilled fingers rutting into you bringing you to the edge, only for her to whisk them away at a moments notice…

“No no no I’m so so sorry mommy please I’ll be so good please please let me cum..!!” You cried out, your voice strained from all the cries and begging you had done in the past few hours.

“No, only good girls get to cum…” Larissa tutted you, turning the vibrator back on.

“No no please please no more!!” You screamed, sensitive from all the overstimulation, “I’ll be good so good mommy please I promise please…!!!”

“Darling…” Larissa warned, “You broke the rules…”

Before rutting her fingers back into your dripping, puffy cunt.

“Be a good girl and take what you are given.”

You whimpered in response, “Yes mommy…”

[pendarling]

I Can't Keep Up The Act

Pretending to be a reformed villain was the stupidest idea they could've imagined.

For weeks, Villain had been systematically tasked with only one objective: exploiting and destroying the heroes from the inside. It was brilliant; after all, who was more capable of manipulation than them?

However, had they put their mission first instead of their emotions, Villain might have never been in this situation. They sighed and locked the door in their quarters. Villain pushed their laptop out from beneath their bed and looked at the last email sent from their boss. There would be a power outage in the headquarters any minute, either today or tomorrow.

It was supposed to be a final attack on the heroes; villains had planned this event for months, and the invasion would happen soon.

They bit their thumb, still nervous at the prospects of the event. What was it? Someone once described this feeling as having a change of heart, but how could a villain like themselves ever betray their own for something like that?

Villain often caught their eyes lingering on Hero's small frame from a distance in the lounging area. They were doing that thing again. The one where they put up that big smile with laughter that just bounced off the halls.

It annoyed them, it was seriously pissing them off.

At the same time, though, they couldn't shake this feeling chasing them, dragging them, begging Villain to succumb. It must've been some kind of trick. They tried to convince themselves. This would all go away as soon as they heard the satisfying sounds of Hero break.

Their eyes stayed lingering on Hero, silently observing them. They had their suspicions from the past week begin to grow that maybe Hero was finally catching onto them, and that wouldn't be so good, would it?

"Good morning, Villain."

They glared hard at Hero's feeble attempt at fabricating their kindness. They rolled their eyes, frowning as they looked away, "It's the afternoon now."

"Oh…" Their hands fiddled at their shirt and looked at the clock behind Villain, "…so it is… I guess that's just what happens when I'm always working. Losing track of time and all." They sat next to Villain on the chair's cushion. What was the use of trying to cozy up to them? It wasn't going to work. Villain wouldn't fall for that.

The criminal wondered how long they needed to converse with Hero until they got the hint. Their eyes stayed glued onto the far wall as the criminal remained silent.

"You're kinda lucky though, you just got here so nobody really expectes anything from you."

Was that a jab at their competency? Did Hero think highly of themselves or something? The irritated faces they made didn't go unnoticed this time. Causing a scene right now wasn't in their best interests, Villain instead chose a different approach. They had to convince everyone they weren't a threat, even if that forced them to befriend Hero in some way. They seethed with a feigned smile through gritted teeth.

Hero reflected their expression back, but they had to admit there was a charm to this specific smile they didn't see Hero display with anyone else.

"Right…" Why were they reacting so poorly?

This was definitely some kind of tactic to get Villain to unveil their intentions; Hero knew what this game was about.

But that didn't explain the warmth comforting their heart so graciously.

"Actually, come to think of it, I don't think you ever got the opprotunity to look around the place to its fullest."

Their eyes lit up; that was perfect. Having a look around at the building would better expose all of its weakest points. Maybe Hero wasn't as brilliant as they'd assumed. This was their chance to return the layout information to Supervillain; they would no longer need to sneak around.

As they headed down the long corridors, Villain trailed behind Hero, admiring the cleanliness. Back in the Villain's base, or what was supposed to be a base, was really just a collection of scattered buildings and secret entrances to dark rooms. Villain grew solace in this, so there weren't any problems with it, but there wasn't any harm in respecting what the enemy's HQ was like.

"I had thought you were lying when you first got here."

Villain paused in their tracks. Hero's soft words caught them off guard. They almost didn't catch it at all. For some reason, it really stung to be doubted by their rival of all people.

"What?" They stammered.

Hero turned to them slowly, their eyes carrying shame and guilt, "I'm really sorry for distrusting you." Their hands moved around their head, and their eyes stayed fixated on the floor, "I mean, I know you said you were going to do better, and you did, but still…" they sighed, "I found myself questioning your intentions from time to time, but it turns out-- you really are getting better at this!"

They sheepishly laughed, that melody escaping from them, an irritatingly beautiful voice.

"Why are you sorry?"

Villain held their tongue. They didn't mean for those thoughts to escape them. Hero stopped and looked up.

"Well, I only have that to offer." They walked closer and took Villain's palms into their hands, "So, let's be friends this time. No more awkward tension between us, okay?"

Their brows furrowed with confusion; it was overwhelming for their worst adversary to tell them all this now. There wasn't any time for them to negotiate their feelings. They had a mission to lead, and Villain's part was crucial.

If anything, they should apologize for misleading Hero like this and still faking it. Did Hero honestly fall for all of this?

They were awful.

"Yeah… Thanks for believing in me, I didn't think you would appreciate my company. It's good to know we both feel the same way about this, then."

It must have been a sickness to be so bold to keep lying to Hero like this. It must've been. Even though they were confident that watching Hero's pretty face turn to horror would be their dopamine earlier today, Villain was disgusted at themselves.

"I guess we do."

Hero's hands. They were so warm.

Or was that just them again?

Villain really couldn't tell. All they knew in that instance was that they would protect their hero no matter what changed in the plan.

~~~

MASTERLIST

[dearestvante]

wrong number; kth.

in which your boyfriend is ignoring you, so you have to get creative.

pairing: taehyung x reader genre: non idol au, established relationship, fluff, lilbit of angst warnings: mild swearing word count: 873

a/n. just a little something before valentine's ends <3 enjoy!

the pounding on your front door got louder with every second you left it unanswered. you had a faint idea who might be behind it, so you weren’t exactly rushing to open it up.

“alright, i’m coming!” you yelled, then after fiddling with your keys for a few more seconds, you finally opened it. your senses didn’t fail, behind the door it was taehyung, your noticeably pissed off boyfriend. you can’t get a word out, he’s already barged in, standing in front of you with both hands on his waist.

“sure, come right in.” you close the front door and face him, arms crossed in front of your chest.

“what the fuck was that text y/n?!”

oh, yes. the text. the two of you had quite a big fight a few days ago, which resulted in him storming out of your apartment in the middle of the night. he has been ignoring all your calls and messages ever since, therefore in order to get his attention, you had to get a little creative. so you had the genius idea to send him a text, which suggests that you had fun with someone last night and you would like to do it again, and make it look like it was meant for someone else. and after half an hour of sitting around, staring at the message, you hit send eventually. your efforts didn’t go in vain, cause he replied within minutes. gotcha, you thought before hitting him with the “oh, sorry, wrong number.” that sentence definitely set your plan in motion, cause he’s here, and he’s talking to you, although it’s not about making up. not yet, at least.

“it was nothing, forget it.” you reply, trying so hard not to smile.

“nothing?! do you, perhaps, need a reminder that we’re still together?” his eyebrows raise in confusion as he takes a small step towards you. he is a bit intimidating, but good god, he looks so attractive.

“no, but you might!” you quickly shake away your wondering thoughts and focus on settling this conflict, cause it’s been bothering you. and you were hoping that he feels the same, he’s just too stubborn to make the first step.

“me? i’m not the one “having fun” with others.”

his words hit you so hard, you drop your act almost immediately. “did you really think that i— oh my god, taehyung!”

“what the fuck was i supposed to think after that text, huh?!” you bury your face in your hands, realizing just how stupid this whole plan was. now you have to come clean, and he might not even believe you. you take a deep breath and raise your gaze to meet his, that’s eagerly waiting for an explanation.

“it wasn’t meant for anyone else, it was meant for you, all along.” he doesn’t seem to understand, so you continue. “i sent that text to get your attention.”

you break the eye contact, looking down at your feet. you feel ashamed and pathetic and his piercing gaze is not exactly helping. the few second of silence that falls on the room feels never-ending and suffocating. you want to say something but you can’t even bring yourself to lift your head, let alone talk. he breaks the overwhelming quiet with a relieved sigh. you can feel him get closer to you, one hand grabs your waist, the other slips under your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“it worked, i guess.” he smiles, faintly.

“why were you ignoring me?”

“cause.. uncertainty was better than accepting the fact that you might want to end this… and then you sent me that text today, and i just… i thought you moved on.”

“oh, tae..” you almost break down crying when you realize what you did. he wasn’t mad, like you thought, he was just scared of losing you, and you just fueled his concern.

“i would never do that to you.”

you bring your arms up to cup his face but he precedes you with the act and before you would even realize it, his lips are crashing against yours. you don’t waste so much time either and kiss him back immediately, one hand running through his soft, dark hair, while the other wraps around his shoulders so you can pull him closer. seconds turn into minutes like this and you get so lost in the moment that you forget why did he came here in the first place. after slowly separating, you are standing there, with both hands intertwined, foreheads still touched together.

“i don’t even remember what we were fighting about.” taehyung says, raising his head a little so he can look at you.

“probably something stupid.”

“and you sent me that text to get my attention? that was the only reason?” he changes the subject, you can tell that it’s still bothering him.

“well.. not really.” you reply, but seeing that look on his face makes you regret it a little, so you quickly add, “you look hot when you’re pissed off.”

he sighs in relief, shaking his head, then looks back at you with the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. “you make me crazy, you brat.”

“i love you.”

“i love you more.”

[miyuhpapayuh]

He got game 4

Adina: The Cougar Next Door

Summertime rolled around, and Odell's mother encouraged him to take up a little summer job, so he could have some money in his pocket to do as he wished.

He wasn't allergic to hard work, so he welcomed the idea. At first he wasn't sure what he'd want to do to make money, but when he saw his next door neighbor, Adina, a 32-year-old divorcee, tending to the hanging garden that occupied her front porch, he knew just what to do.

One warm, yet breezy Thursday afternoon he caught her outside and voiced his proposition of taking care of her yard work. She happily accepted, offering more than fair compensation.

The first week went by uneventfully, as he planned on how he'd put the moves on his vixen of a neighbor. On a couple of occasions, he caught her second-too-long stares as he pushed and pulled the lawn mower across the grass.

Bingo.

With her paid vacation underway, she didn't have much else that needed her attention. She didn't have children, just her Egyptian Mau, Perla, a sassy kitten that seemingly preferred to be by herself.

On a particularly boring early afternoon, she found herself sitting on her porch swing in a cream colored sundress that bared an expansive amount of thigh, fanning herself with a vintage paper fan as she watched Odell manicure her front lawn. She sat with a bit more interest when he decided to ditch his beater and hang it over his shoulders.

She knew she shouldn't be having the thoughts that ran through her head about this boy. He was over a decade her junior, for God's sake! But God knows the way those beads of sweat dripped down his sculpted torso made her drip below the belt. Her conscience was telling her to get away and take a quick ride with the windows down. Anything to clear her mind, but the little succubus on her shoulder urged her to take him for a test drive.

Weighing each decision carefully, her dark side won out. She was determined to find out if he could make her kitten purr.

Pouring some ice-cold strawberry lemonade into a glass, she made her way over to Odell, tapping him to get his attention as he had earbuds in.

"Yes ma'am?"

"Honey, you make me sound like a grandma," she joked, "Adina's fine. Here," she handed him the refreshing drink, "I know it's hot as hell out here."

She had to fan herself when he flashed that brilliant white smile her way. "Appreciate it, Adina."

"You look like you could use a break. Out here with this sun beating on you. Come sit down and get some of this air conditioner."

Come inside and get this throat is what he heard. It's what she might as well have said.

"I'd like that." She led him inside and he thanked his lucky stars his mother was working until the late evening today.

He might be here a while.

He sighed in pure relief when the cold central air made contact with his blazing hot skin.

"I see you inhaled that lemonade, sugar. Want another glass?"

"Actually, I'd rather drink you."

"Hm. And here I thought I'd have to play the coy game." Shamelessly, she let her dress fall from her body. A scrap of black lace you could barely classify as underwear was the only thing adorning her now. She hooked her finger in the front of his basketball shorts.

"Follow me."

She led him to her spa-like bathroom that had a shower big enough to fit at least five people. After fiddling with a couple knobs, water rained down from the ceiling. Pleased with the temperature, she rid herself of her panties. Bending at the waist, she peeled them down her legs giving him the perfect view of her glistening cove. She flung the piece of cloth at him, and he caught it, sticking them in the pocket of his shorts.

She entered the shower, standing directly under the water. He watched mesmerized as the steaming water cascaded down her figure.

"Care to join me? Or would you rather stand there drooling on yourself?" she chuckled. He was out of his remaining clothes and in the shower in record time.

Taking her mango-scented body wash, she squeezed some into her palm, working it into a rich lather. Starting at his neck, she worked her hands down his body, washing him down.

Slipping down to her knees to wash lower, and she's face to face with the prettiest dick she's ever seen. Long, girthy, with a thick vein going up the underside.

Perfect.

She gripped it, running the flat of her tongue along that vein. Placing a sloppy kiss to the tip, she winked before swallowing him whole. She used one of her free hands to rub her clit and the other to massage his balls.

He exhaled roughly through his nose, gripping her thick, wet hair in his fingers. She relaxed her throat allowing him to fuck her face however he liked.

She slid two of her fingers into herself, moaning around him.

"Fuck," he bit out as the vibrations from her mouth covered him.

He pulled out of her mouth before he could bust in it, and placed her on the bench in the recess of the shower wall, kneeling between her legs. He draped them over his shoulders, and went to work, licking a stripe up her slit much like she did earlier making her hiss.

He was intrigued by the tiny gold bar that went through her hood. He investigated it with his tongue. He must have tripped something because his mouth started to vibrate, eliciting a gasp from her.

'So she's that kinda freak,' he thought. He licked circles around her clit while the vibing piercing did its thing. He could just barely make out her sweet little moans as his head was basically sandwiched between her thighs.

Her head was thrown back in pleasure, moaning loudly into the damp air. A hand was threaded through his curls, while the other tweaked her nipple.

"Fuck, I'm about to cum!" she ended on a shriek. He groaned against her already overstimulated clit, setting her off. She made a mess of her juices all over his face.

Getting eye-level with her, he pressed their lips together making her taste herself. She tasted even better on his tongue.

Exiting the shower, he forewent drying off, and bent her over the counter. He sent a heavy smack to her ass, surprised when she asked for another, harder this time. Quick to oblige, he made sure to leave a nice, bright red mark this time. One of the sexiest sounds left her mouth in appreciation making his dick stiffer than he thought possible.

Moving behind her, he tapped his head against her a few times before sliding in, filling her to the hilt causing them both curse at the contact. He spread her open to making sure he got as deep as possible with each stroke. She had to brace herself against the mirror for fear of hitting it headfirst with how powerful his thrusts were.

"You're so--," he hits her spot so good she almost loses her balance, "fuck baby, you're so fucking deep!"

She brings one of her arms back to press against his abs to relieve the building pressure.

He caught her arm, holding it behind her back. Gripping her neck, he pulled her back placing his mouth against her ear.

"You gon take all this fucking dick. Got it?" It was like he was stealing the breath from her body with how deep he was.

“Got it?!"

He tightened his grip on her, moving painstakingly slow, pulling out so far she thought he'd pull out, just to slam back into her wetness full force driving her insane.

"Yes! Yes imma take all of it!" Her eyes rolled into the back of her head, her jaw hanging slack as he brought her closer and closer to spilling all over him.

"Good girl."

He knew she was close, and he wasn't far behind.

"You ‘bout to make me cum all up in this good shit, baby. You want that?" he licked up the side of her face.

"Mmm, yeah give me all that nut, big boy."

"Take that shit, then." She began throwing it back on him recklessly, meeting him thrust for thrust, obscene, wet sounds filling the bathroom.

Together, they came loudly & noisily, with her wetting up his dick and thighs. She pulsated around him, milking every drop she could. He collapsed on top of her, their sweaty bodies sticking together as they tried to regain control of their breathing. She reached back, rubbing soothing circles against the back of his neck with her fingertips.

"I'm gonna have to raise your pay," she joked tiredly.

Lmao this one was wild. Enjoy!

@thegifstories @blackerthings @ghostfacekill-monger @honestpreference @blowmymbackout @headcannonxgalore @harmshake @henneseyhoe @blackpinup22 @twistedcharismaaa @abeautifulmindexposed @starcrossedxwriter @megamindsecretlair @soufcakmistress

[pauli-writes]

warnings: mentions of oda’s death, mention of the orphanage, hurt comfort, dazai is being dazai

pairing: atsushi x reader (reader is oda’s younger sibling in this)

author’s note: i got sad thinking about oda :( timeline wise i imagined this to go in between the first arc and the guild arc just in case you were curious. i might make a part 2 of this cuz i like the premise

“reader!“ you looked up at the sound of the bell chiming and people entering the cafe. as usual it was some members of the detective agency upstairs. dazai was leading the pack, behind him doctor yosano and ranpo, and lastly atsushi. they looked pretty pleased with themselves, they must have just finished with a case.

“you all look chipper, did you finish a case?” you asked them with a friendly smile, starting to prepare a few baked treats for them (mainly ranpo) and freshly brewing some coffee.

“all thanks to me!” ranpo replied as they sat down in a booth. it made you smile hearing ranpo recount the events of the case with the occasional comment or correction from yosano and dazai. it also gave you enough time to finish their usual orders and put them on their table.

once you got to atsushi you noticed how silent he was and seemed to be avoiding looking at you directly. you furrowed your eyebrows and looked at dazai, who in turn just shrugged innocently, but you knew that he knew something like he always did. you turned to look at ranpo in hopes of getting something from him, but he was already munching away on the piece of cake you gave him. doctor yosano wasn’t much help either, idly drinking coffee without a care in the world.

you returned to the counter and cleaned a few glasses, listening to the agency having a few humerus exchanges and keeping an eye on the clock in the corner of the room. yosano and ranpo left after a while, but dazai and atsushi remained.

“oh, that reminds me. you have somewhere to be today, don’t you reader?” you looked up at the mention of your name and saw dazai looking at you with a knowing expression.

“if you already know, why are you asking me?”

“that’s no way to talk to the person who got you this job,” he replied, before sitting up straight and turning a bit more serious. it was a rare sight nowadays, and it usually wasn’t very good when it happened. “i know i promised i’d come with you, but something came up.”

you blinked in surprise, “you’re not coming? but today-“

“i’m sorry,” he wasn’t. he took another sip of coffee and turned to look at atsushi opposite to him, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. “i have something more important to do. but atsushi here is free. i’m sure he’ll be happy to accompany you.”

both you and atsushi’s eyes widened at the moment, for very different reasons. you didn’t want to bother him with your problems, that besides the fact that dazai had that look on his face that meant that he was planning something, meanwhile atsushi simply didn’t want to intrude into your personal life, seemingly unaware of dazai’s ulterior motive.

“oh, i can go alone.“ you quickly said, busying yourself with cleaning the counter.

dazai however shook his head. “no way. it’s way too dangerous with the port mafia around. besides, i think it’s best if you have someone around for this.”

you looked down for a moment, dazai probably was right (like always). you lifted your head and looked at atsushi, wondering what he thought. he was anxiously fiddling with his hands, not really knowing what to do. this seemed more like a thing between you and dazai if he was being honest. he sensed your questioning gaze on him and jumped a little in his seat.

“oh, i don’t mind if you don’t,” he replied earnestly, “i finished all of my work today early so i have the time.”

you turned your gaze back at dazai, who only looked at you curiously, probably awaiting your next move. in the end you let out a sigh and nodded your head at the two men.

“okay, but just this once,” you said to atsushi softly, before looking at dazai with a hardened expression, “And you owe me.”

your shift ended a few minutes later, dazai left to attend to his very important thing he told nobody about, and you and atsushi set off to your desired destination.

on the way you stopped to get some flowers, and you made some pleasant small talk. it made you realise how little time you have actually spent with atsushi. he told you about his time at the agency and how he’s enjoying it so far (besides the countless near death experiences) and you told him about your life, which was very mundane and the only exciting thing was when the agency came down from work to eat and drink at the cafe.

you eventually reached your destination and upon seeing it, you expected atsushi to ask you why you were here, but he didn’t, which meant he knew why you were here. you walked up ahead and atsushi followed you silently, eventually you turned to face him.

“aren’t you going to ask me?”

his face turned red, “a-ask you what, reader?”

“why we bought the flowers and why we’re at a cemetery,” you explained slowly, making him turn even redder.

he laughed awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck, “oh, yeah why is that?”

you only deadpanned at his reaction, “you’re a horrible actor.” you told him, before softening a little, “dazai told you.”

you continued you way down the rows and rows of graves, before walking up a small hill with a tree on top. atsushi continued to follow you and explained himself to you, his cheeks still a little red from being flustered.

“b-before we went to the cafe today dazai-san told me that you might be acting a bit moody, when i asked why that was he told me that it’s because today’s the anniversary of your brother’s death… b-but i didn’t know that he was going to make me come here with you, i suppose that’s just regular dazai-san for you…i’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

you let his words sink in and nodded, stopping at the sole grave at the top of the hill. you let out a deep breath. “it’s alright, atsushi. dazai was being dazai again… i know you were just trying to protect my feelings.”

atsushi let out a breath and relief as he heard you say that, his face returning to its normal colour. you smiled a little and handed him a flower from your bunch.

“you can put one down too,” you told him softly. “normally dazai would join me for this, but you’ll do too,” atsushi gulped nervously, but nodded. together the two of you placed the flowers carefully on to his grave, a bitter sweet feeling in the air.

afterwards you two sat down by the tree, which was overlooking the rest of the graves on the cemetery as well as a small part of the ocean. it was nice a quiet and a small breeze was in the air, it was quite beautiful. you turned your head away from the sight and saw atsushi eyeing the grave with the new flowers on it.

“i still remember the last thing he said to me,” you spoke up, making him immediately snap his attention back to you. “It was ‘see you later’ I didn’t think too much about it at first but, looking back he probably knew he wasn’t going to make it back… he knew he was going to leave me, and he did it anyways…”

“i’m sure he wouldn’t have left you if there was another choice.” atsushi replied, trying to make you feel better. “he probably was trying to get the best possible out come for everyone.”

your hands subconsciously balled into fists as you avoided atsushi’s gaze and looked at the grave instead. “you don’t know him, you don’t even know what happened leading up to it. heck, i didn’t know what was going on until dazai told me days later…” you took a deep shaky breath, putting your face into your hands, as tears started to gather in the corners of your eyes. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean that.”

atsushi was quick to put a comforting hand on your shoulder and give you soft pats. he actually didn’t know what he was suppose to do. growing up in the orphanage he never really had to comfort any other people besides himself, if you started fully crying right now he would start to panic. “i-it’s alright, you are right. i didn’t know him and i don’t know what happened…” he said sincerely, “a-and i have never lost someone i truly care about. i was always alone up until i met you and the agency. i couldn’t possible tell you anything to make you feel better and for that i’m sorry. but i am willing to listen if you need to vent…”

he saw how your body visibly relaxed and let out a quiet breath in relief. you turned to look at him again, a small grateful smile on your face. “thank you…”

he smiled back at you, “no problem.”

the two of you spent the remainder of the day by that tree, simply talking, something that humans surprisingly don’t do a lot anymore. talking to atsushi was nice, he was very considerate of your thoughts and feelings and listened intently. he wasn’t being pushy, or disinterested, he was simply enjoying spending time with you.

eventually the sun started to set and you got up, stretching your limbs. “well, i’d better go home it’s getting dark.”

atsushi followed your lead and also got back up on his feet. “I’ll walk you home.”

“you don’t have to do that,” you told him, “you’ve done more than enough today.”

he only smiled softly at you. “i know i don’t have to, but i want to.”

you smiled back at him and nodded, “…okay.”

[wrenreid]

Off Limits

contains: sexual intercourse

Part Twenty-Six

Being left in bed naked and alone was not exactly how I pictured my first time to end, but I know it wasn’t personal. He left because he had to. Because my father might take his glock out and act irrationally if he sees his favorite agent with his only daughter. I’m not saying he’d actually shoot Spencer, but he might scare the piss out of him.

My father gets home just as I slip back into bed dressed in pjs. He doesn’t say goodnight because it’s late, and I’m sure he assumes I’m asleep.

I would be asleep. Should be. But I can’t even think to rest my eyes. I’m not one to think that first kisses and first times are that big of deal. It’s not like having sex is a life altering event. And I most definitely do not feel like a whole new person.

Books and movies make it seem like a huge deal. But it’s really not. However, I do think this will change our relationship a bit. Hopefully bring us closer. Honestly, I’m really not sure what will change between us.

I do know one thing. I’m officially his girlfriend. He’s officially my boyfriend. We’re official. Which feels good. After years of crushing on him and months of sneaking around and having fun with him, we’re finally together.

I know I said fuck it if she’s off limits, but goddamn do I feel guilty. I hate feeling guilty. I’m sick of it actually. No one should feel guilty about dating anyone. But I can’t help it. It’s wired into my subconscious.

Jade is finally my girlfriend. We had a great night together. I should be happy. Well, I am happy but I’m also feeling guilty and a little dumb.

Of course I didn’t have sex with her just to spite her father, but he did have something to do with it. They all did. They pushed me a little too far and I finally caved in to what I’ve been resisting. But I wanted it, I’ve wanted it for a while, so it’s not like their teasing was my only reason for sleeping with her.

Just as I’m about to text her the next morning, I get a call from Hotch saying we need to go to Quantico for another case. I was hoping to see Jade today since we didn’t get to talk after we had sex. But I guess that’s out the window. I grab my pre-packed go bag after getting dressed then head to work.

(skipping time because goddamn i am bored with this story… sorry)

The sneaking around that once stressed the hell out of me has kind of become fun. I mean there’s a type of thrill that comes with dating your boss’s “off limits” daughter.

Jade and I have had a fun few weeks. We’ve connected more, spent as much time together as we can, and have honestly had a lot of sex.

We’re both still getting used to our new relationship, but we’re in it together.

I spend the night with Spencer as often as I can without my dad getting suspicious. He thinks I’m either with a friend, at a party, or whatever other minuscule lie I tell him.

The lying and sneaking around is fun. I’m finally getting the experience I never had in high school. I would obviously love if I could date Spencer and not have to lie about it, but the secrecy of it all is thrilling.

It makes the sex just hotter.

After having sex on the couch, then moving it to his bedroom for more space, Spencer and I lay on the mattress together. Our hands intertwine, fiddling with our fingers.

“Want to know something a little ironic?” I ask him as his thumb rubs across the back of my hand.

Spencer shifts a bit to face me. “What’s that?”

“In 7th grade health class, us girls were all given purity rings, misogynistic, I know. I think I still have mine.”

“Give it to me.” As he says this, something in his face changes.

“What?” I question, a slight chuckle releasing from my lips.

“It’s technically mine now. It only seems accurate and fair for me to have it.”

I laugh a little once again, my cheeks burning pinker than they ever have. He’s dead serious. Something about the look in his dark eyes makes me want to go for round two right now.

I think he has the same idea. Spencer leans in, his lips kissing mine. I kiss him back immediately, my tongue sliding in his mouth. As we kiss, his hand slides down my body and he slips a finger between my folds to touch my already sensitive clit.

“You’re still wet,” he says. “Good girl.”

I moan into his mouth, moving my hips back and forth as I ride his fingers. His lips find their place on his neck and tits, sucking on the places he’s already left his mark on. It stings a little, but the pain feels good.

“God, Spencer,” I whine as he sinks his teeth into my flesh, not enough to damage my skin but enough to hurt a bit.

I beg him to touch me harder and faster, and he obliges, fingering me as I moan into his ears.

After a minute, I’m so needy that I take matters into my own hands. I sit up then place myself onto his lap, guiding his dick inside me with my hand. I roll my hips back and forth, watching his face as I ride him.

“Holy fuck,” he whines. “You’re so hot, baby.”

The way his length hits inside me as I bounce on him has me louder than I’ve ever been. He lifts one of his hands up to quiet me so his neighbors don’t hear. I personally, don’t care if they hear us. I want them to know how good he feels and wish they could feel this way.

He releases his hand after a while, holding my hips and occasionally slapping my ass while I ride him. He bucks his hips upward to meet mine, making his dick hit inside me harder.

“Fuck,” I moan, dragging out the word.

He’s moaning louder than usual too. My hands that were scratching down his chest land on his throat, choking him.

“Is this okay?” I ask.

He’s done it to me before but I haven’t done it to him while we’ve fucked.

“Very,” he nods.

As I finish, I bite into his shoulder, quieting my moan of his name. He finishes not long after me.

The next morning, Jade comes into the bullpen, she’s walking toward me. everyone’s looking. My face is red already, and she hasn’t done anything. I have no idea what she’s doing.

“My dad told me to give this to you,” she says, handing me an envelope. She smiles sweetly then turns toward the elevators.

She was bringing her father lunch and was in his office for a bit, eating with him as he worked.

I let out a soft, relieved breath. I open the letter. There’s a paper, and written on it in neat handwriting is “I think this belongs to you.” Taped to the paper is a small, silver ring with the word “promise” on it. I’m definitely blushing hard and trying to suppress a smile.

“You getting fired, reid?” Morgan teases.

“Totally,” I joke casually, my mind far away from Morgan’s question.

I slip the ring in my pocket before folding up the note and safely putting it away in my desk.

I think that little word engraved on the inside of the ring has a new meaning now.

tags: @pauline5525mgg @theintimatewriter @lilibet261 @greysviolets @jazzymariexoxoc @one-sweet-gubler @thatsonezesty13 @necromaniackat @awhoreforspencerreid @sebs-oxygen @scarredelirium @bts-sugaplum @awesomeness1679 @preciousbabypeter @yazzyu @cynbx @r3idsp3ncer @1010lizz @tiredbut-here @skulzombiw @lena-1895 @eevee0722 @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @daydreamingqueen1 @regulus-black-223048 @virginmusicloverr36 @jazzerbelle14 @kylakins88 @f-me-reid @lovejules888 @marimorena06 @daph-421 @idkusername8787

[gojoslefttoenail]

How to tie a tie with Nanami!

"Ugh..."you fiddle with the tie try to somehow figure out magically to tie this stupid piece of fabric around your neck for your meeting in your workplace where you met your beloved husband, Nanami Kento an ex-employee. You've been happily married with him for a good year now, and you've never regretted that moment when you said yes when he proposed to you on your second year anniversary of dating. "Nanaminnnnn!" You call out his nickname, hoping he'd hear you. You heard his footsteps walking up the stairs towards your shared bedroom "yes, darling?". You're expression immediately softened when you see you're husbands tired look from working overtime, even though he "hates overtime". "Can you teach me how tie this shitty piece of fabric..." he chuckles and kisses your forehead lovingly "Yeah baby... alright pay attention for me, okay?" You grin and you nod, you've been always childish around him. When first he met you, he thought you weren't responsible. But after getting to know you, he started to find it endearing especially how you use it to cope with some situations you've been through. He places the tie around your neck under the flaps of your collar's shirt "Make sure to make the thicker side longer than the narrow side" he crosses the wider end over the narrow end "you paying attention, love?" He says after spotting your wandering eyes looking at him through the mirror. You smile and "yeah, I am continue..." He smiles lovingly at you and he continues "then you loop the wider end underneath the thinner end... and then you do that one more time..." his calloused hands running through the silky material of the tie, you felt your heart beating a bit faster, like a highschooler seeing their crush through the halls. Gosh damn you love this man way too much for your own good, and so did he for you. He breaks your thoughts with his comforting voice "see how I made a loop?" You nod "Now, you use that loop to knot the tie with... use your index and thumb to hold the front of the loop and bring the wide end up behind and through the loop..." he pulls down on the tie's material to tighten "and you pull to tighten..." he kisses your cheek and he steps aside for you to look properly in the mirror. You pull the flaps of your collar down and you tighten the tie a little more "Wow Nanami! Thank you so much hun..." you kiss his cheek. He smiles at you and pecks your lips "Any time..." You sigh "I'm worried for this meeting..." His expression softens and he hugs you "You're amazing at everything, believe in yourself." You bask in his comfort presence, smelling the faint scent of his expensive cologne from last night when you went out for dinner. "You're right... I need more confidence..." you pull your head away from his chest, his arms still wrapped around you. "Ill crush them with my project and report!" You peck his lips and you let out a snicker "I'll make you proud!" He lets out a chuckle "That's the confidence I know and love..." he ruffles your hair and taps your back "now you're getting late, you have to eat and go to the train station, cmon..." you gasp and you grab your bag and you ran downstairs, taking your coffee/tea and bag in hand and before rushing out the front door you yell out to Nanami who was going down the stairs in a much more relaxed manner than you "I love you! I'll see you at 5 like usual!." He lets out a smile "of course... I might work overtime today, but I promises I'll come as fast as I can..." you smile as an acknowledgment and then you hurriedly walked out the door, closing it behind you.

Bonus scene: "Oh Nanamin~!!!" Gojo grins "what's got you in such a good moodddd~?" Nanami sighs and closes his eyes, his hands massage his temples. "It's too early in the morning to deal with this man child..."

A/N: Hey guyssss! I'm alive (woah!) Yeahhhh, I know I promised to post more often during summer vacation but I didn'ttttttt. While writing this I actually learnt how to tie a tie 😭😭😭😭 until next time!