#is it not INSANE to say. OUT LOUD. the only person capable of touching the man in the beast was the guy he flew all the way from Scotland to

[brw]

Was gonna write a long ass post about this but honestly I think I've said everything that could be said but it is really insane to me still that Hank McCoy loved the X-Men enough to torture, kill, assault and betray anyone that needed torturing, killing, assaulting or betrayed, but he didn't love them half as much as he loved Simon Williams. Isn't it insane that Simon was the only man in the 5 years we've seen him descend to give him something resembling a conscience, to make him give up everything if it meant Simon would be safe. Isn't that fucking insane.

[starry-bi-sky]

i have been unmedicated for the entirety of spring break and thus have had little interest in writing this down, but i have been thinking about this for the entire week (as well as a dpdc clone danny au that resulted in it becoming its entirely separate batman au that includes a teenage vigilante bruce wayne, an ocarina, and me entirely incapable of making a batman au without making bruce dirt poor but we're not talking about that) and so i've finally went 'fuck it' and forcibly grabbed my laptop. I will get this done in one sitting even if it kills me.

BUT. This is about neither clone^2 danny nor about who i am calling Ocarina Batman. This is about my Danyal Al Ghul Au and more SPECIFICALLY it's me thinking about his relationship with Sam and Tucker specifically.

Tucker and Sam? Adore this asshole (affectionate) with every fiber of their being. And it is very much a reciprocated feeling, but Danny's thoughts will not be delved into much other than he would kill for them.

Tucker? The only person currently capable of getting a deep, loud, belly laugh out of Danny. Sam can get him to smile and to laugh, but it's the kind that's a chuckle-under-the-breath. The quiet, looks-down-while-huffing laughter. Snorts once with laughter and then grins stupidly.

But Tucker? Tucker can crack a slew of stupid jokes and Danny will be incapacitated for the next five minutes because he's laughing so hard that he can't breath. He lands one well-timed pun or quip and Danny will be close to tears. His laughter is their favorite sound in the whole world.

Sam is lowkey jealous of this ability, and she's gotten a belly laugh out of Danny a few times. But alas, it is Tucker who wields this power and has gotten it the most times out of the two of them.

-

They're also both physically affectionate with Danny as much as possible. It started roughly around when they were 12-ish, a year since they befriended Danny, and they noticed that he sought after touch but never seemed to initiate (and was in some ways repulsed by it). They started slowly being more touchy with him. Hooking a finger around his to lead him somewhere, tapping his wrist, looping arms. Little touches, grabs, etc, to get him used to it, and once he started doing it back they started increasing it.

It's gotten to a point where he will now just. Lay on them. Like a lizard sunbathing on a rock. Leaning on their backs when they're sitting in class before the bell rings, his chin on their heads. He'll talk about anything with his arms looped around their shoulders.

If they're sitting on a couch at either of their houses, he'll lay his legs on theirs. Him and Tucker will press their feet against the other's and try and push against them (newsflash: Danny always wins, Tucker claims its the ghost strength but Danny's been winning since before his accident)

-

Naturally, both Sam and Tucker know where Danny keeps his weapons on his person, and are allowed to grab them off of him if they need it. His only requirement is that they don't lose his weapons if they take it and forget to return it immediately.

They both understand how big of a thing this is from Danny, and so they do their best to treat his weapons with a lot of respect and care because they know its his way of saying he trusts them.

-

Sam and Tucker are so fond of Danny it's insane. Like fr. That's their goddamn best friend, and they are so protective of him. Emotionally, physically, you name it. They will tear the head off a grown man if they need to, Danny's had scars since he arrived in Amity Park and Sam and Tucker both are going to find the person who put them there and make them pay for it.

One time, Tucker overheard a bunch of upperclass girls speaking nastily about Danny and about the rumors surrounding him, calling him names like 'freak', 'monster', etc. Danny was with him and heard it, and seemingly appeared unbothered by it, even telling Tucker that he was used to such rumors.

Tucker was so furious that hacked into the school system later that night and tanked those girls grades. They were kicked out of their clubs and had to go to mandatory tutoring for the rest of the year. He made sure to leave some way of letting them know it was him who did it.

And Sam doesn't like using her money for things, doesn't like abusing that wealth. So instead, whenever her parents talk bad about Danny, she causes a media incident that has her parents scrambling to deal with. She does something wild, outrageous by her parents' standards.

She heard some boys on the basketball team making fun of Danny once, similar to those girls had. She kicks up a fuss about something eco-unfriendly at school and forcibly holds a protest on the same day of the big home basketball game, forcing them to cancel the event and reschedule to a visiting school.

She anonymously donates money so that there's new uniforms for the team but oops! Looks like she "forgot" to donate enough money for them to get uniforms for all the team members, and strangely enough those boys in particular didn't get them! Looks like they'll have to wait until more money gets donated for the basketball team to get their new, nice uniforms. The old ones look so ratty in comparison, right?

And since the football team gets most of the sport money, that might just take awhile. And if (and when) they kick up a fuss? oops! Off the basketball team you go, :) such unsportsman-like behavior is unfit for the team.

(The only good thing about how corrupt the school system is is that she can use it to her advantage too.)

The both of them know that Danny suspects them for the sudden misfortune falling on these people, but he doesn't call them out on it. He's kinder than he used to be, but not kind enough to vouch for people who speak badly of him. Sometimes, he might just congratulate them on not getting caught.

Because Danny is their wonderful, hurt friend with a "slightly" Blue and Orange Moral code, and enough scars that people have been calling him a criminal (and worse) since he arrived in Amity Park when he was ten. And they'll be damned if he gets hurt anymore.

[sickuma]

" Above all else, It’s still you. "

A Simon Ghost Riley AU ( x reader )

— Grief never got easier, and Simon found every thought of you consuming him.

🐻 Something short again! It’s raining hard and it got me in a really angst mood, stay safe everyone who’s experiencing the typhoon too!

— This work is deeply inspired by Lizzy's "Doomsday."

“ God loves you,

But not enough to save you. ”

What does it take to love, and what do you lose from it? Is it worth the hollow feeling it leaves you? Was it always this way?

The question never eased, and Simon found every little thing about romance repulsive. He'd already hated the notion of it before,

But now he thinks he loathes it.

What's the point in all of that if it just comes down to this?

This, whatever he would call it, that consuming feeling, like he's forgotten how to live before you.

Like you had always been a part of his life, a part of him, and now that things suddenly turn for the worst, he feels lost.

Lost is an understatement. He doesn't even feel alive. Did you take crucial parts of him with you? If so, why? Was that necessary?

He wonders if he'd just gotten so accustomed to you that he doesn't feel complete with your absence hanging in the air, or if you'd simply taken so much of him, leaving him with not much but his body.

“Might be a lil bit busy right now! Call me again in a bit, you can leave a message, though!”

He dials your number for the fifth time, or fiftieth? Whichever it was, he dialled it enough in hopes of engraving your voice at the top of his head. He did it so much he's convinced, he’s only capable of responding to your voice now,

Not that it wasn't the case already, it totally was. Has always been.

The laughter before the voicemail cuts off was the part he liked the most. His lips tug upwards a little. You've always had a contagious laugh.

Even at your death, you manage to steal a smile from him.

Pathetic.

He thinks to himself, wallowing in self hatred. Not understanding why it's taking this long to man up and get over it.

“Grief is a complicated thing, but one day, you'll look back to everything and be glad you allowed yourself to heal.”

Heal?

He doesn't want to heal.

If healing means no longer recognising the sound of your voice, the certain way you smiled, the feel of your touch, your scent, or the specific hues of your eyes.

He feared he wouldn't ever accept healing.

If healing means living without you, he would rather keep hurting himself by reliving the memories from when your absence didn't exist.

Every thought that ran around his head would somehow involve you and your doomed faith. You always taught him how to find positivity in things, but how could he dig something positivity in your absence?

The thoughts of your voice, the stories you would tell him, the house, the plans. Suddenly they're reduced to memories, and he doesn't quite know how to feel about that.

“My mom would say the stars were our loved ones that had already passed.” You laugh, “Do you think I'd be a bright star one day?”

The brightest one, certainly,

He'd have preferred it if you never needed to become a star at all. He'd have preferred it if you just remained admiring those stars with him, in his arms, not all the way up there, too far from his reach.

Is there a possibility you heard his cries? If he cried loud enough would you hear him and consider coming back?

Maybe you will.

You always said your love for him knows no bounds,

But does that still stand now? When he’s the only one breathing between the two of you?

He had already felt he was going insane when he saw your figure on his way back home, calling out your name and chasing you, only to see it was a stranger.

Of course it is, he knew it wasn't you, but there's a part of him that hoped to meet your eyes when that person turned around.

“Might be a lil bit busy right now! Call me again in a bit, you can leave a message, though!”

He calls you again, as if expecting the other line to click and for him to hear you greet him. To make fun of him for calling so much,

God, he hoped, he hoped desperately you would.

Thoughtlessly, his hand reached for his shirt that you would often wear. Bringing it close to him, taking in the remnant of your scent. It's barely there, but it's there, and it can suffice.

His finger hovering over the call button once more, to hear you speak, to hear you laugh.

Just to hear you.

[manhandlememando]

Gravity Ch. 7

din djarin x f!reader

TW: din whump, description of bomb related destruction, slight injury description, the Razor Crest served long and faithfully but unfortunately did not make it out of this chapter alive. third person POV (she/her)

word count: 2,731

a/n: this chapter is itty bitty because i split the original ch. 7 in half. BUT FEAR NOT chapter 8 will be right around the corner and will most definitely contain MDNI warnings; so be prepared.

series is ongoing

series masterlist:

BANG

She jolts awake from the peaceful sleep she so rarely gets to experience, having heard a large explosive sound she gets up immediately to search for what may have caused such a thing. Din awoke with the movement of her getting up, groaning and turning over.

“Din, I heard something.” She says quietly as he begins to sit up, he reaches down to grab his helmet and put it back on before she turned on the lights in the small courters.

He moved quickly to the door as another large sound rang throughout the ship. The left engine, for Makers sake, Din realizes this in his hurry and rushes to mend the problem.

As she waits she wonders if this engine problem will be reparable without having to land at the nearest port. The door hisses as it opens to reveal Din, his helmet hides his expression but by the slump of his shoulders she could tell something was amiss.

“I’m so sorry, but it’s not looking like something I can fix myself. I have to land at the nearest port but…” he trails off as if not wanting to reveal something.

“What?” She asks inquisitively, an air of caution to her tone.

“We have to go back to Tatooine, Peli is the only mechanic I trust to touch this ship.” He says apprehensively, knowing the backlash he would receive.

“Din… no, I won’t, we have to go somewhere else,” she says in a stern tone, making her boundary known.

“You can stay sealed in the ship the whole time, Peli will be there in the mechanics bay, it will be fine,” Din reassured, knowing her worry that those who were still looking for them would recognize the ship and come for them.

“No one will hurt you, mesh’la. No one, I promise,” Din assured her once more, gathering her in his arms and running a large hand over the crown of her head in a soothing manner. Din hated to put her in this emotional position but he wouldn’t be able to get to any other planet at this point, their trajectory set for Tatooine already.

————————————————

Once in the mechanics bay Din made sure to inform Peli of the importance of keeping the ship sealed, for the girls sake. Peli understood immediately and assured Din she would keep an eye out for any suspicious activity or persons near the bay. Even going as far as powering up her “defense mechanism”, which seemed to be a de-programmed battle droid. It made him uneasy, but he also knew Peli and what she was capable of, and if she said the droid was safe, then he would have to believe her. Din then proceeded to exit the bay, on his way to the local merchant in the more populated districts of Mos Eisley to get much needed supplies and food rations.

With the knowledge that Din wouldn’t be with her the entire time, but instead would be leaving the mechanics bay to go do Maker knows what, her throat tightened as the anxiety set in. She understood that Din wasn’t her sole protector, that she could defend herself and that her own autonomy was her responsibility, no one else’s. But Din’s presence always made the feeling of confidence within her grow exponentially, covering her whole body in the warmth of reassurance.

Even though she knew Din had instructed Peli to keep the ship sealed, within only thirty minutes of mindlessly wandering the ship she was starting to go insane. The constant banging and loud sounds from outside the ship caused her to jump frequently. So much for easing my anxiety, she thought to herself, another loud CLANG came from outside the ship, but this sound was different. It was as if something had hit the ship, something much stronger than any hammer Peli had. She tensed, suddenly hearing distant yelling from beyond the metal confines of the ship.

“No, no, no,” she whispered quietly to herself, frantically beginning to search for any semblance of armor or a weapon when the main hull door opened with a hiss of air. Turning sheet white she froze, unable to think as she witnessed a form ascend into the hull of the ship. There’s dust billowing into the ship, as if it had been set loose from the ground by something high-impact, like a heavy artillery blaster shot. Slowly shrinking behind a corner wall in the hull, holding a blaster to her chest, she prepares for a firefight. But to her surprise she hears Peli call her name into the ship. As she emerges from around the corner, she sees a large, more anthropomorphic, droid standing in the hull next to Peli. Her hair was even more disheveled than normal, sticking in every direction and sizzling slightly.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, honey, but we need to go now,” Peli spoke, continuing to check the outside of the ship, as if waiting for someone to appear.

“What’s going on?” She asks, slowly moving towards Peli, very cautious of this unknown droid that was standing immobile in front of her. Its eyes glowed red and it stood perfectly still, as if waiting for instruction.

“I’m not sure, honestly. But I do know we’re being attacked, that’s why I brought out Big Red here,” she says gesturing to the towering droid. “It won’t hurt you, it’s a security protocol,” she says as the girl makes her way around the chunk of metal to the hull door.

“Now go get everything you can carry, we need to leave the mechanical bay entirely,” Peli instructed, she then turned to the droid and instructed it to man the entrances and to kill any unwanted visitors. She then began to help the other woman gather things from the ship, shoving as many weapons and gadgets into burlap sacks she had brought onto the ship.

“Not my first time having to evacuate a ship before,” Peli explained when the younger woman looked to the burlap bags with a questioning expression.

“Just grab everything you can, I don’t want to be here if those things come back,” Peli said. However as she finished her thought, blaster fire could be heard from outside the Razor Crest, meaning someone was trying to get back into the mechanics bay.

“Too late,” Peli mutters.

“How will we -,” she begins to ask Peli but instead of providing her an answer, Peli grabs her free hand and drags her to the back of the ship.

“There’s an evacuation hatch in the floor of this thing somewhere,” she said as she lifted a small mat on the floor, under it was a door. “There we go,” Peli exclaims with a smile.

“You go first,” she gestures to the young woman standing behind her.

After they successfully pushed through the small evacuation hatch, the two women slowly made their way to another emergency exit in the corner of the bay. Blaster fire still being heard from the entrance, the droid holding off the intruders for the time being. Peli quickly ushered herself and the other woman to safety, making their way to another bay of a friend of Peli’s.

“She’ll take care of us until Din returns and we can come up with a plan to get the Razor Crest back,” Peli explains as they descend into the shop of another ship mechanic.

It’s then that the ground explodes with movement, the stairs crack and crumble as both of the women lose their footing and fall over each other. The noise is deafening, an explosive rumble that physically shakes the concrete of the building, creating fisures in the walls and ceiling. As the intensity of the situation subsides the young woman opens her eyes to see rubble surrounding her and the older woman. Peli groans as she rolls over onto her stomach, working her way to her feet. She helps the other woman to her feet as they take in the scene around them. A massive plume of smoke has erupted into the sky from the direction they had just come from. With the realization beginning to sink in, both Peli and her gasp, the Razor Crest had just been bombed.

A shaking hand is placed over her mouth as another realization comes to her, she could've been in the ship, they both had just come so close to death.

————————————————

Din was conversing with an older bounty hunter, trying to locate his old boss, Greef Karga, in order to get work. As he began to buy supplies he realized how little money he actually had. The conversation is cut short by an earth-shattering noise, a low rumble followed that shook everything on the ground. Din’s head whipped in the direction of the noise and his eyes are met with the most horrific sight; a plume of smoke billowing from the mechanic bay she is in. Without another word to his fellow bounty hunter Din took off sprinting in the direction of his ship, and her. As he approached the scene, he was struck with anguish as he witnessed flames and smoke envelope the entire building, the ship buried under rubble. His mind was racing and without a second thought Din sealed his helmet and ran into the flames. Yelling, screaming her name, calling out for Peli, but no one answered. The flames began to eat away at the fabric of his flight suit and the seal on his helmet released without warning as the flames and heat ate through more of his clothes. He continued to call her name, his lungs beginning to fill with smoke as the fire grew hotter and spread faster. Digging through metal and concrete he couldn’t find any trace of her or Peli. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, his eyes stung as tears flooded from them.

Maker, please no, please I can’t lose her, Din thought as he tried to make his way out of the burning catastrophe that was Peli’s mechanic bay. His vision began to blur as the smoke seeped into his lungs, suffocating him from the inside out. He made it to what used to be the stairs that descended into the shop, but now were chunks of concrete stacked haphazardly upon each other. Dragging himself up the embankment of crumbled concrete he was able to make it to his feet and with every last piece of strength in his body he was able to walk out of the burning structure before the arch above the stairs collapsed in on itself.

“Mando!” He heard someone call, but he couldn’t lift his head from the sand to see who had called for him. He heard his title called again, this time it seemed closer than before, and through the fits of coughing he was experiencing he suddenly realized he knew that voice.

“Oh, Maker,” the person gasped above him, falling to their knees and beginning to pull him up onto their lap.

“Din, it’s me, I’m here. Okay? I’m right here,” she spoke calmly, but he could hear the quiver in her voice.

Through the smoke inhalation his mind couldn’t comprehend anything other than that he knew who was talking to him. It took him a moment to focus in on their face, and the second his vision became clearer he couldn’t breathe all over again. It was her, she was alive.

It was as if new life had been breathed into his limp body, but as he moved to sit up he felt the pain of the burns and his lungs began to give out again. Gripping onto her forearms to steady himself he relaxed back into her lap, breathing ragged as his adrenaline began to dissipate. She cradles his helm as she tried to keep him conscious. Turning to the older woman standing next to her, she instructs her to get a speeder car to transport them to Mos Espos. She knew of medical clinics with bacta tanks in the more populated parts of the biggest city on Tatooine.

Peli frantically ran for help as more people came out into the street to see what had happened. The speeder took little time to show up, faster than any officials of Mos Eisley (if there were any). She and Peli hoisted the beskar clad warrior onto the hunk of metal and set off across the sands of the barren planet. As they drove further away from Mos Eisley she and Peli took one last look back on the destruction that took place, tears in their eyes as they continued on towards safer territory.

———————————————

Once in Mos Espos it was as if solace had found them first in the form of a woman dressed in traditional assassins attire, and carrying a large blaster to match. Her face was striking, her eyes as dark as her hair, and she had an amused smile on her face as she approached the speeder car.

“This one just can’t stay away from near death experiences, can he?” She asks as she approaches the speeder, shaking her head as she observed the damage. She puts her hand out as if to shake, which the other young woman takes hesitantly.

“Fennec Shand, I know you don’t know me, but he does. If you’ll come with me I can get him the medical help he needs,” she explains, moving in to the speeder car next to her and the Mandalorian, Peli sitting in the back keeping ahold of their belongings from the ship. Looking skeptically at Fennec she doesn’t start the speeder immediately.

“He’s already in shock, do you want it to progress?” Fennec questions, and with that comment they were swerving through the streets of Mos Espos towards a location only Fennec knew, and so their future lies with her and the “medical” treatment she knew of.

—————————————————

Fennec Shand seemed to be telling the truth, having brought them to the most grand place in the city, the Daimo’s palace which was currently occupied by the Madalorian, Boba Fett. At their arrival, Din was quickly moved to the bacta tank within the palace. She and Peli were then escorted by Fennec herself to see the Daimo Boba Fett. But as they continued down the sand-dusted corridors of the palace, she couldn’t help but feel more exposed without Din’s presence.

“Is there any way we could put off introductions until tomorrow, when Din is well enough to vouch for both myself and Peli?” She asked of the skilled assassin leading the way in front of them. Fennec slowly turned, a suspicious look in her eye, but after a moment of thinking she softly nodded at the other two women. Fennec then turned the party around and led them back up the corridor they came, knowing that Boba Fett would be upset with the lack of respect. The young woman had only vaguely heard of Boba Fett, but knowing Din’s abilities as a Mandalorian, she could only imagine who this man must be.

After being led back into the main part of the palace, she requested of Shand that she and Peli be able to sleep there, which Fennec obliged without complaint. Setting up the cot next to the bacta tank she looked through the glass at the stripped down man before her. His helmet still adorned his head as well as shorts around his waist to preserve some amount of decency. Touching the glass where his head lay, she remembers how that metal of his helmet felt beneath her finger tips as she held him in her lap not even 6 hours prior. She missed the warmth of his skin more than ever, now looking at the warped surface of his arms, torso and lower parts of his legs, she wonders how long it will take to heal it all. She remembers hearing his cries of her name, the hoarse tone of his voice as the smoke clouded his throat. He sounded so lost, so hurt, like his whole world just ended. With the loss of the Razor Crest, in some sense a part of his world had ended. But what she didn’t know was in that moment he couldn't have cared less, if he had lost her, he would have lost himself completely.

"Please be okay," she whispers as she presses her lips to the glass, "and sleep well."

[taegularities]

Cmi review:

They’re such a cute couple I can’t😿😿 they love each other so much. You can tell no words can describe how much admiration they have for each other and I’m in awe at how much of their love oozes of the pages, I feel it right in my heart.

“Your soul was already awake, lit up from today’s events; but he dunks it in a brighter shine” I’m sobbing 😭, there’s nothing bigger than their love and want for each other. I can only hope I find a love as true as this in my life

“I know… You don’t care.” His hand leaves the nape of your neck, caressing your face. “But you care about me, yes? You care so much.” I think this is the cutest piece of dialogue in the whole chapter for me😭, he knows but just needs to say it out loud for him to really encapsulate what it means. I know kook fell so hard for her, but it’s in little moments like this I can actually see just fragments of HOW DEEP in love he is with her. It’s the cutest ever

The tie😵‍💫😵‍💫😅😅

“…now if you’re daring me, I’ll have to.” Their banter is to die for, they never cease to amaze me

If I had 3 wishes, I’d use TWO of them to be on the receiving end of cmi!Jk’s head game😊, but maybe just me???

“There’s already a finger to your pussy.” I’m sorry I laughed so hard reading this😭😭😭, like he couldn’t even wait a good 5 secs without needing to touch her, but where’s a jk when u need him🙄

No and I’ll say it again… when she turns around and he’s staring at her ass👀👀👀 idk if I wanna be him or her like you never fail to add something new and unconcerned a secret kink I didn’t know existed???😅

“Somewhere, it stings. That he’s surprised by constant company. By someone not leaving… by someone worth all his affection glueing themselves to him. And yet, you understand.” My babies😣 we all just need a group hug🫂

Her relationship w her mom😭💔 I wish her mom saw her as her own person and not just an extension of her legacy. Oc has such a beautiful personality and her capabilities go so far, but her parents only see her as what she can do for them. To have parents who have shown time and time again they don’t care about you as a person😣… I’m glad she has the friends she does bc that takes such a toll on ppl and some don’t ever find a way out. I’m so happy for her🫶

“You feel bad immediately — even in a playful tone, your heart knows nothing for Jungkook but praise. You guess that’s how kindness affects people.” Stoppppp I’m blushing awwww😭😭😭☺️☺️☺️☺️

Her meeting kooks mom by making a sex joke is so😭😭😭😭😭😂 like ofc when she’s at most ease, kook has to set her up by having his mom over😭😭😭 this was like the funniest thing ever

“With those barely blinking, calm eyes. An ocean of fondness in them, a light, lost smile around his face. As though you’re soothing him, pumping oxygen into his lungs.” HOW DO YOU COME UP WITH THESE LINES😭��😭😭 I JUST CLUTCHED MY CHEST AND SHOOK MY FIST IN THE AIR!!!! CURSE YOU RID, I FEEL SO LONELY ITS INSANE

Jks dad😭💔 I actually want to avenge him, I want so badly for his dad to sit him down and talk to him and apologize. Having a parent not talk to you/ show you their love and affection is so damaging. You can totally see how each of their relationships w their parents held a weight in their hearts during their breakup and how they both act towards love😞💔. I only want the best for them, but I’m losing hope that either of their parents could ever reverse the trauma they put into their kids. My baby’s I just wanna hug them🫂

The constant kisses, kook is so head over heels it’s insane😂😂😂

“The plastic stars are twinkling — or as much as plastic allows after all. Part of the ceiling is adorned with them; makes your shared space even more of a quiet sanctuary.” EEEEEEEEKKKKK😝😝😝😝😝😝 hes so thoughtful like who would even think about bringing in plastic stars😣🫶 the way they love each other even in the little things, puts so much faith back into love because this can happen!! I’m so glad you’re able to share such cute and romantic aspects of a relationship (even if it’s fiction) because this can happen and people can be loved in such a way

“you’re always there for everyone. I want to be there for you, too, because your worries are just as real. Let me take care of you, too… yes?” I’m literally tearing up🥲 she loves him so much

I’m so excited to see more of ría and just family bsck home. I know they have such cute and embarrassing stories of kook😂

“He comes to a stand, one hand in his joggers; he’s not going to work until a bit later.” Just what I needed in my mind😵‍💫

He’s so stressed over her I can’t even imagine😞

“Hi. It’s me, sweetheart.” My heart💔💔💔

I love eun😞, I can’t wait to see more of her… & tae☺️☺️

This whole scene is so heartbreaking. I’ve seen couples really break up just because of a scare and they already have their own inner troubles, but this really solidified their relationship for me. WRITE THEIR NAMES IN THE MOON YA!!! But it was honestly so tear jerking, her crying relentlessly and him trying his best to comfort her even though he’s equally as scared. I love this couple so much I didn’t even know it was possible to love them more🫶

Koooooooookkkk😭😭😭😭🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 stawpppppp I’m gonna tear up, I can’t believe we got it so soon😝😝😝 I feel like they even transcended beyond “I love you”, you could feel the love radiating from them since silhouettes really!!! They are love personified and I can’t wait to see what’s in store for them

Hi!! Doing it a bit diff this time😜. Sorry for being MIA after telling you how much I loved CMI, a lot of stuff had happened/happening in my life and I’m not really “okay” about anything yet, I still have a lot to work through, but I think I’ll get there soon? (I hope). Just had to makes sure i sent this in because it’s the least I could do for all that you’ve done sharing this story with the world🫶

And How are you rid? I hope you’re doing well and taking things day by day. I miss you lots and hopefully soon I can check up on you again🫶 I know life is a lot and there’s so much factors into how we feel but just know I’m by your side and always rooting for you, you’re never alone as long as I’m here🩷

And please do whatever your heart really wants. I wouldn’t want you to leave because you’re one of the happiest things on tumblr for me and it’s one of our only ways of communicating, but I support no matter what decision you decide. All your feelings are valid and you deserve to be on here feeling loved. I’m all for you choosing happiness and that’s all I truly want for you riddie.

Please take care of yourself I love you

⭐️

STARRR STAR THANK YOUUUU!!!! oh my god, i love your reviews so much!! even if it takes me a bit to get to them, i enjoy reading and rereading them a lot, like you're so incredibly kind and supportive like 😭

i'm so beyond thrilled that you liked cmi11!!! i'm saying it rn, we will one day love and be loved just the same, lighting candles rn rn!!!

the banter will never cease lmao like that's who they are :'D i'm happy you're still enjoying it and there's so much more where that came from!! like, can you believe we're just halfway through? the shenanigans between them shall only increase!! also yes… the tie @.@ you'd use 2 wishes to be on the receiving end of his head game? that makes two of us, star… then again, can fully understand being confused about who you'd rather like to be, bc i also have a crush on both of them </3 always there to help you explore unknown kinks 🤣

her mom is indeed a beast to conquer :( we can just hope that she takes a bit of time to think about her daughter and who she truly is. to reflect on her anger and come to terms with the fact that her girl has grown and is such a wonderful person, even without charmante. oc will definitely be burdened by this neglect for a long time, but what a relief that she has her friends and kook <3

BUT THEN AGAIN HIS MOM AHHH I KNOWWW HAHAHA THE SEX JOKE. she's such a clown and jk knows, too 😭 that was so so evil of him though 😭 "how they both act towards love" hurt me so much :( please do give them the tightest hug. they so deserve it sigh. and don't lose hope 🥺 we shall see how things play out, there's still a lot to go!! :D

you're so right… this can happen 🥺 i've experienced love in the most painful way and have had moments where i gave up on it, too, but honestly… this can exist, so we need to keep hoping that one day, we will be loved in such a way, too 🤍 it can absolutely happen. talking of romance, you shall see more of eun and tae sometime soon for sure 😛

yeah… pregnancy scares are no joke. it needs quite a bit of resilience and patience to withstand that stress and be there for your loved one, no matter what, and oc was definitely fearing that jungkook might not hold on. but he did prove to her that he'd stay, no matter the result 🥺 ugh, god, they were both so broken im gonna cry too fkashfkajjf

and the confession actually did make me cry so much lol i remember writing the first 'i love you' and pausing and starting to sob like crazy kjfhsykjfhsafgjk and yes, there was definitely something going on since silhouettes ahhh :') 'love personified' 🥺 star 🥺

don't worry about taking a bit to get back to me!! i can be so slow, too. i'm just glad you're here and i hope you feel a lot better soon. life is so cruel ugh and you deserve all the happiness and love in the world 🥺 i'm here if you ever need to talk!! thank you for your kindness regardless <3

i've been… okayyy. it's a constant up and down, but it's gotten a bit better, so let's see. i miss you as well <3 thank you for reaching out, for saying all you said and for being so sweet to me. i love you sm 🤍

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

Story Summary: Dylan arrives ahead of production to a new filming location to get a break from L.A. It’s a small town in eastern Canada that’s remote and serene. While he’s enjoying the touch of anonymity that comes with filming in a rural town where most people couldn’t care less who he was, he meets Amelia.

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

Warnings: eventual smut, RPF, slight angst, general naughtiness

Authors Note: Uhhhh. I didn't really expect this to be the last chapter, but shit happens? Enjoy? Sorry? I love you?

Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 / Chapter 19 / Chapter 20 / Epilogue (Coming Eventually)

Chapter 20: If You Love Someone (Dylan POV/Mia POV)

Dylan drove, his foot heavy on the pedal, perhaps heavier than it should be on a narrow, country road. The yellow lines flashed by in the spray of his headlights as he replayed what had just happened in his mind until it had him feeling so torn and frayed that he had to pull over on the gravel shoulder. 

He sat there, looking out through the windshield at the high grass lit by his headlights, at the dark sky beyond, and then slammed his hands on the steering wheel, cursing so loud his ears rang. 

He didn’t want to be driving away from her. Away from the only genuine connection, he’d felt for another person in years. Of course he didn’t, but that was precisely the reason he had to. He refused to allow the affection he felt for her to cloud his judgment. He couldn’t be what she needed. What she deserved. How could he? His lifestyle was nearly that of a vagrant. What could he possibly be to this girl who deserved far better than he knew himself capable of offering? He ached at the thought of how quickly everything had seemed to curdle and sour. He’d been so willfully blind, entranced by her and chasing the high of how it felt to be in her presence. He’d been selfish. To assume this day, this entire thing, could have gone any other way was foolish. 

He buried his face in his palm and rubbed his temples to try to coax away the beginnings of the headache that was forming between them. The slow creep of these realizations had been nauseating him all evening, but it was Amelia’s father’s words playing over in his mind that had the bile rising in his throat. ‘Haven’t seen her this happy in so long. She’s smiling again. I suppose I have you to thank for that.’ All of those words should have been more comforting to hear from her father than they were. Instead, each of them only stung. Their implications were biting and cruel. ‘You’ll be the next reason for her sadness. You’ll rip away that smile. I’ll have you to blame.’  

Continue Reading on AO3!

I don't know what to say, everyone. I hope you enjoy the final chapter. I've been working on this damn thing for more than a year... Which is just insane? I will be writing an epilogue, so please do not despair ;) I do want to say thank you to all of my readers. You guys have no idea how much your faithful dedication to this story has meant. I really appreciate each and every single one of you so much more than you could ever know! <3 Much love, and happy reading! Trashy xoxo

[lazysimp]

Dark Clouds (+18) /// Shoto x Fem Reader

Click HERE to read the male version

Rating: Explicit 18+ Only Minors DNI

Summary:  You love Shoto more than anything but what if you were the only thing standing in between him and his dreams? Smut+Angst

A prequel to Cloud Nine

Word count: 3k+

Warnings/tags: Angst, Blackmail, Morning Sex, Breakup, Soft Dom Shoto, Praise, Explicit sexual content, Oral sex (receiving), She/Her pronouns, All characters are adults.

masterlist┃AO3

“Oh fuck Shoto! Please just a little more,” You beg, your back arching off the bed as you push his head down. Your fiancé had made it a habit to wake you up with his tongue delving in your cunt, licking up your juices like it was his last meal.

After living together for a month you thought he would finally start to calm down but his need for you had only grown. He had barely left the apartment, deciding to take a few personal days to spoil you instead of working on climbing the ranks. You tried to convince him to focus more on his career, but he would drop to his knees every time you brought it up.

“I love this pretty pussy,” He groaned, swiping his tongue through your soaked folds until he found your aching bud. His lips closed around your clit, sucking it into his mouth while his fingers teased your dripping hole.

You yelp and clench your thighs, caging in his head but he didn’t seem to mind. In fact, your soft thighs against his ears sent him into a frenzy. He thrust his long fingers into you, curling them up to press against your sweet spot.

Your body bolts up, curling around his head but he continued on, never giving you an ounce of mercy. With your head directly above his, the lewd sounds of his mouth filled your ear, sending you further down the rabbit hole.

He released your swollen clit to move his mouth to your hole and gather more of your addicting taste with his tongue. “My baby has such a good pussy. So wet and tasty, and it’s all mine.”

You let out a whine at his praise, you wanted to always belong to him. To never leave his side as he rose to meet his dreams.

He added a third finger into your tight hole, stretching you open in preparation for his cock. You hiss at the slight burn but it fades quickly as his expert fingers began to fall in temperature, soothing the ache. He had always been so considerate during sex, always making sure you came at least once before he ever tried to enter you.

The first time the two of you had sex was not the greatest but it was a moment in your life you would never forget. For hours he explored your body, experimenting and exploring your body to understand exactly what you liked. By the end of the night, you were both absolutely exhausted, barely able to move.

His tongue returned to your clit, teasing the side of it with the tip of his tongue as his fingers continue to pump into your tight cunt. Your breathing grows frantic and your body becomes tight as the pleasure swelled inside you. You could feel your thighs tremble around his head and your hands shake.

He smiled into your pussy as your sweet hole trembled around his fingers, his baby was close. Remembering to not speed up he kept his movements consistent, listening for your little mewls to direct his touch.

As your breathing grew more labored and body tense he took your little berry into his mouth, sucking on it like a tit. It was the final straw, he watched in awe as you fell apart. Your pussy milking his fingers while your clit wiggled in his mouth with each clench.

Normally he would keep his mouth on your cunt, cleaning up your orgasm with his tongue but he had to be at work in twenty minutes. Grudgingly he moved his mouth from your heat and rose to his knees. He gently slid his hands under you and flipped you over, exposing your mouthwatering ass to his view.

Holding his breath to stop from cumming he lifted your hips up and pushed your back down. It looked as though you were presenting yourself to him. While he loved watching your face as you cum, this view definitely had its perks.

Lining his tip with your entrance he watched himself sink into you. Your cute moans filling his ears, serenading him as he bottomed out. Wanting a better view, he grabbed your ass with his large hands and spread it open, exposing your tight rosebud. He ignored your squeal of protest and started to thrust, watching you take his cock so perfectly.

Each thrust into your tight heat drove him further into insanity. He would never grow tired of this, tired of you. He still wasn’t sure how he managed to get you to agree to marry him, it still felt unreal, like someone was going to rip the floor out from under him. Something as good as you never happened to someone like him, something always messed it up.

“Shoto,” You whine, dragging him out of his thoughts. “Fuck, I need more.”

Determined to have you cum around his cock he reached around and slid through your slick folds to find your aching bud. He let out a sly grin watching your body jerk as he teased your button, knowing the extra stimulation would send you right over the edge.

“Please, Shoto, please,” You begged, the tight coil inside your chest reeling tighter with each lazy circle around your clit. You lose the ability to speak, only moans leaving your lips.

“That’s it, that is my good girl. So perfect for me. I want you to cum on my cock while I watch,” He says hoarsely behind you. That was all it took, the spring inside you snapped sending you spiraling into oblivion.

Your toes curl in uncontrollably as you scream into the pillow, the brutal waves of pleasure crashing into you. You couldn’t even breathe as your rode out each wave. His fingers did not stop teasing your clit, they teased you through the high. Making you ride the wave as long as possible before his thrusts started to fall out of rhythm.

You lay face down into the bed, exhausted as he finally falls apart. You could feel his cock pulse inside you as his cum fills you. Once he finally finished he rolled off the top and laid next to you, pulling you into his arms.

You both lay there for a few minutes, not needing words as you recover from the morning quickie. Shoto pushed himself up on his elbows and placed a soft kiss on your forehead. He then stood out of bed and started to get ready. You lie in bed and watch as he dons his uniform and smooths out his sex hair.

“I should be home for dinner today, I am only scheduled to patrol until five.”

You nod, “Do you want to go out? Mina said the new soba place was really good.”

Shoto flashed you a warm smile, “I would love that, I’ll see you tonight.”

You push up on your elbows to meet his lips for one last kiss before he leaves. No matter how many times you kissed him, he always managed to take your breath away. You bring your hand up to his cheek as he slowly pulled away and looked into his eyes.

“Please be safe.”

He tilts his head into your hand, giving you some of its weight. “Don’t worry, I promise I will always come back to you.”

You drop your hand and lay back down, watching as he leaves the confines of the bedroom, and listened for the front door to close. Slipping on one of your lazy shirts, you make your way to the kitchen. You grab a few ingredients and cook a quick breakfast, eating it while you watch the news. Thankfully there was nothing big going on in the city, only a few petty criminals.

Shoto was more capable of taking care of himself but it was hard not to worry. You knew what you signed up for when you agreed to go out with Shoto, but he made all the stress and worry worth it.

You sit at the small counter and eat your breakfast. You avoid scheduling anything on your days off just in case they let Shoto off early so you had nothing planned. You put your dishes in the sink and start to collect some laundry, you could at least clean up some before you rested.

A loud buzz filled the apartment signaling someone was wanting to come up. You drop off the laundry and click on the speaker. Shoto had chosen this apartment because of the added security measures in place. No one could come up to the floor without a key or explicit permission.

“Hello?” You say into the small mic, unsure who would be asking to come up. Shoto hadn’t mention anyone planning on coming over.

“Can I come up?” The deep powerful voice of Endeavor said to the mic.

For a brief moment, your heart stopped. You tried to frantically think of what to say but no words came to mind. You had only ever met him once and you had Shoto by your side. You know he does not approve of your relationship with Shoto, after all, Shoto is going to be one of the world’s strongest heroes and you were well you.

“Just a minute,” You say to buy time as you debate whether or not to call Shoto. On one hand, having him by your side would keep Endeavor in line but on the other, you should be able to handle being around your fiance’s father. After all once you get married he will be family.

You suck in a stabilizing breath and call down to the front desk to give Endeavor permission to come up. While you waited for him to arrive you run to the bedroom and quickly put on a more presentable outfit. You still wanted to call Shoto, to have his supporting hand at the small of your back as you talk to the flame hero.

Three stern knocks signaled that Endeavor had arrived. You turn the knob and ignore the dread filling your stomach, you could do this. Endeavor knew better than to hurt you, he probably just wanted to talk about your engagement.

You stood frozen in the doorway and stare at the flame hero. He did not have any of his usual fire blazing, letting you see his natural hair better. Without his flames or hero uniform, he was a lot less intimidating.

You plaster on your best smile, “Please, come in.”

He steps into your shared apartment and takes off his shoes. You smile, this was definitely a good start. You both silently make your way to the dining room and sit. You were unsure what you need to do so you sit silently and wait.

Endeavor cleared his throat, “This is a very nice place the two of you share. Shoto chose well.”

You give a cautious smile, “I do really love this apartment. I have never lived somewhere with a view as nice as this one and it is easy for both of us to get to work from here.”

Endeavor nodded, “I won’t waste any more of your time, pretending to be here for a visit. I am sure you have seen the news lately. Shoto has fallen over two spots in rank compared to last year. After evaluating his skills and performance in the field, my agency has determined that his fall in rank is due to the amount of time he is taking off.”

You stiffen in your seat, scared of where this is going to go.

“I allowed this relationship to continue as it was not worth getting Shoto upset with my interference, but this is going too far. You are ruining his chances at becoming the number one hero.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, “Excuse me!”

Endeavor reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small booklet. He opens it to reveal a single check. He pushes it over to you, the box for the amount was blank.

“You fill out how much you want to leave this relationship.”

“You can’t be serious, what kind of person do you think I am?”

Endeavor’s face held no emotion, “How much?”

Your face twists in anger, “Fuck you! I’m not leaving Shoto, not for any amount of money. You can take this check and shove it-”

“If you do not leave I will be forced to take action.”

A rush of fear runs through you, “What do you mean?”

Endeavor sighed, “I let Shoto leave my agency with the understanding that he would still work to climb his way to the top. He is no longer doing this. If he continues like this I will have to call up the agency he is working at and have him removed from their staff.”

“Removed, you mean fired. You will have him fired because he is going to marry me?” Your throat began to grow tight as the world started to close in around you.

“I am going to have him removed because he can’t do his job properly and be with you.”

You begin to shake, “And how is that going to help him become the number one hero?”

“Simple, he will have to come work for me again. Under my influence, he will take over the number one spot in no time.”

“You know he hates working for you. He loves the agency he is working at, you would rip that way from him?”

Endeavor’s flames started to sprout, “I have seen too many heroes with potential never amount to anything because of relationships like yours. I will be damned if the same happens to Shoto.”

“So I will talk to Shoto about not taking as much time off.” You try to reason.

Endeavor shakes his head, “It is far too late for that. It is not just me who is taking notice to his slacking. If he continues to behave the way he is, I won’t even need to make the call to have him removed. If you want him to not have to work for me you will leave him or all of this will be your fault.”

Endeavor stands to his full height, “After today if I see you anywhere with him he will come to work for me whether he wants to or not.”

He leaves you to sit alone in the apartment. You sit still in your chair, unsure what to think. How could a morning that started so perfect end up like this? You somehow managed not to cry, too focused on figuring out what to do.

You know Shoto loved you, he made sure to tell you almost every day, but could he love you if it meant he had to do something he hated? He loved working at the agency with Inasa and others. The time he spent working under his dad was some of the most miserable of his life.

The entire reason the two of you even met was that he went out with his friends to celebrate finally leaving his father’s agency. How could you ask him to stay with you if it meant returning to misery?

With no one to turn to you flip on the tv, needed background noise as you try to find a solution. You could not ask Mina or Kirishima for help, they would spill to Shoto the minute you told them. If he even caught a hint at what was going on he would go berserk.

You had only ever seen him mad once when a fan tried to throw something at you. His entire demeanor changed from quiet and calm into a simmering rage. He would have easily laid out the fan but you somehow managed to calm him enough to convince him to go home. He had spent hours fucking you to get out his rage. By the time he was back to normal your entire body was covered in hickeys and bruises.

You shake your head to clear your mind of, this was not time to think about sex. You look around the apartment you share with Shoto and feel tears begin to well in your eyes. You didn’t want to leave him. Being with him these past few months had been the happiest of your life. You had never loved someone like you loved him.

Could you live with yourself if you had to watch the beautiful light in his eyes fade if he worked for Endeavor? In the dark of night, Shoto would confide in you about his childhood. How his father only saw him as a tool to overcome All Might. If you stayed with him he would have to be around that mindset every day.

Shoto deserved happiness, even if it was not with you. He was young and handsome, he could easily find someone else. You know it will be hard on him but you could not live with yourself if you had to watch him grow to be miserable.

You lift your chin up, you had to break up with Shoto, it was the only option.

You turn to the bedroom and grab a duffel bag you used moving in. You had to move your stuff out before he got home. You know if he had time he would be able to convince you to stay.

You haphazardly pack away your clothes, not bothering to fold the piles as you shove them into the bag. You would only be able to pack a bag without a car to move.

The small click of a lock stopped you dead in your tracts. No, he wasn’t supposed to be home for at least another hour. The bag drops out of your fingers and you run to the living room. He was standing in the kitchen with the fridge open. He did always get hungry after patrol.

He turned his head at the sound of your footsteps and smiled. Your heart finally broke in half, you were never going to have this again. Deep sobs tore up your throat and before you could stop them fat tears began to fall.

Shoto’s face filled with panic and he rushed over to you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and pulling you into his chest.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice filled with panic.

This only makes you cry harder, you didn’t want to do this. The weight of your loss grew stronger as his hold tightened.

“W-we have to break up,” You incoherently sob into his chest.

“Baby, I don’t understand what you are saying, can you look at me?” He gently bruised his hand up your forehead pushing your head back so he could look into your eyes.

Your lower lip trembles but you somehow manage to speak, “I am calling off the engagement, I can’t do this anymore.”

You watch as his face drops, his eyes wide with confusion, “Baby, what are you talking about? What is wrong, did something happen when I was gone?”

You shake your head, “I can’t do this anymore.” Lie. “Being with you is exhausting.” Lie. “I thought you were the one but I was wrong.” Lies, lies, lies. You hate every word that comes from your lips but this had to hurt. You had to make him hate you, it was the only way.

He drops the arms that once held you close to him, “I don’t, I don’t understand? We were fine this morning, what happened?” His blue eyes were glossy with unfallen tears.

You wrapped your arms tight around your waist for mock comfort. “I-I have been thinking about this since you proposed, I can’t handle dating a hero it is too much stress. I am m-miserable.”

Watching Shoto struggle to speak as he processed what you said hurt more than just ripping your own heart out.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner? Why did you let this go on for so long if you felt that way?”

You shake your head, “I thought I would get used to it, but it has only gotten worse.”

“But this morning and every day before that you never said anything. You seemed happy.” He turned his back to you and walked towards the kitchen.

“Why now? What changed?”

You needed to end this before he asked any more questions, you let thick walls close around your heart and go for the kill, “Because I don’t love you anymore.”

His entire face crumbles as if you had stabbed him. Unable to look at him any longer you grab your duffel from the bedroom. You take one last look at the bedroom, the bed still a mess after this morning.

The weight of your loss was so suffocating you couldn’t even breathe as you walk past Shoto. He stood still in the living room unmoving in shock. He blinked strongly a few times like he was trying to wake up from a terrible nightmare.

You reach the front door “I am going to stay at Mina’s if you need anything. I’m so sorry Shoto.”

This was for the best, he could receiver from losing you. You were only in his life for a few months but his dream of being a hero had been lifelong. This breakup will only be a road bump in his journey to success. You knew he will reach the top, it just won’t be with you.

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 13

Dabi x Reader , Bakugo x Reader

Words : 3125

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together.

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

********************************************************************

You watched as Dabi paced in front of you as you hugged your knees to your chest. Shoto had come to sit next to you and you were grateful for his calming presence. He kept giving you a weird look and then looking at his brother. He obviously wanted to ask what was going on between the two of you, but you mouthed, “later” at him and he shrugged it off.

“Ok. So what? He has a list of my safe houses. That’s okay… That’s arguably a good thing actually.” Dabi was thinking out loud trying, and even though his voice sounded calm, you could see the way his hands balled into fists so tight his staples were pulling.

“No one knows about this place. This is the safest house out of all of them. I bought it after I left the League, it’s in the middle of nowhere, and the security is the best money can buy.” He stopped his pacing and looked at his brother, “So…”

Shoto draped a lazy arm around you and you released a tense breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. He quirked his head at his older brother, “So…? What? Why is that a good thing?”

Dabi’s eyes got this scary look. They practically glowed and you could tell whatever he was thinking probably wasn’t good. “It means we can pick them off. Set up traps for them at my other safe houses. It might take some time… we won’t know what houses they’re targeting so at first it’ll be a lot of guess work.” You could see a scheme hatching behind his eyes and for once he truly looked like a villain. “You said Bakugo was already out looking for them, right? I can meet up with him! They’re my houses after all, no one knows them better than me.”

He took off towards the bedroom mumbling something about needing to pack. Your wide eyes connected with Shoto’s, “How long before he remembers he’d have to leave me behind and panics?”

Shoto hummed, “I’d say about thirty seconds after he’s done packing.” He shrugged, “It’s not a bad plan honestly. I see he’s gotten rather attached to you lately though.”

You could hear the unspoken question and you weren’t sure you were ready to jump into that conversation just yet. It was bad enough that Katsuki knew. You shrugged and averted your eyes back to the door Dabi had disappeared behind. “We’ve gotten pretty close. You learn a lot about someone when you’re stuck in a house with them.”

“SHIT!”

Shoto sighed, “Sounds like he just remembered.”

Dabi stomped back into the living room and stopped a few feet in front of you. His stare was intense almost like he was trying to see through you. You could see his frustration growing as he battelled internally over what he should do. “I can’t leave you here by yourself… I don’t want to leave you at all. But- But I can’t take you with me either.” You could see his mind running a mile a minute trying to come up with a solution.

“You can leave me here, I’m not totally useless. I have the collar, so you can call me, check on my location and vitals and all that creepy shit.” You gestured to the younger Todoroki sitting next to you, “And I’m sure your brother and Izuku are dying to have some time to catch up. They can keep me company. Kiri too if need be.”

Dabi kneeled in front of you and laid his arms on either side of you, caging you in. “It would drive me insane leaving you here.”

You brushed your thumb over the spot between his eyes, smoothing out his worried expression. “More insane than if you stayed here and let Katsuki handle this on his own?”

His body sagged and he leaned his forehead onto your shoulder. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say it sounds like you want me to go.”

You leaned your head on his. “Of course I don’t want you to go idiot. But I hate to break it to you, I know you pretty well… And I don’t think sitting here day after day listening to you complain about how you could do it better, sounds like fun.” He groaned because he knew you were right. “So, go ahead and go. I’ll be fine here I promise. Go catch some bad guys with Katsuki.”

“Ugh don’t say it like that. You make is sound like a cheesy buddy cop movie. I just hope your little hero friend isn’t squeamish because I’m not going to hold back.”

Shoto cleared his throat, “Some of us… little heroes… have seen enough shit to last a lifetime. Bakugo’s the hardest working and grittiest out of us all, so believe me when I say you don’t need to worry about him.”

Dabi narrowed his eyes at his brother who he had just realized was practically cuddling with you. “Seeing death and dealing it out are two different things. I know he’s capable of killing someone, but mentally I don’t think he could cross that line.” He held a hand up to stop Shoto from arguing with him. “And I don’t care if he doesn’t want to get his precious hero hands dirty. Because that’s what I’m here for, and I’m honestly looking forward to it.”

You huffed, “Listen, I really don’t like the look you get when you talk about killing people. It’s sick… killing isn’t supposed to be fun you psychopath.”

His eyes shifted back to yours, “Baby girl. I want to make something clear. I will find the sick fucks that kidnapped you. I will torture them in the most painful and humiliating ways possible. By the time I’m done… they will welcome death with open arms. I’ll be doing them a favor.” His forehead pressed against yours. “Unless you’d rather I save them for you…My destroyer of men.”

You hit his shoulder, “I’d rather you let Katsuki arrest them! You know how I feel about killing villains.”

His hand gripped the back of your neck hard to force you to look at him, “…No. You know I can’t do that. The sooner you accept that, the easier all of this will be.” His thumb rubbed your cheek, “I know it sucks. But this is the world you live in now. We can’t trust anyone but ourselves.”

Shoto cleared his throat, “Listen I don’t know what is going on between the two of you, but I would appreciate it if you refrained from being kinky in my presence.”

Dabi growled, “Fuck off! You literally let yourself in unannounced… When all of this over I swear we’re leaving the fucking country. I’m so sick of you brats just coming over whenever you feel like it. We’re gonna leave and you’ll never see us again.”

Shoto quirked an eyebrow, “So… Even after all of this is resolved… you plan to still live with y/n?” You could see the gears turning in his head as he pieced all of this together. “Hmm interesting.” He got up and stretched. “Well I guess I’ll give you guys some alone time to… do whatever this is… just without me having to witness it.”

“Hey before you go… You sure you’re okay with keeping an eye on her while I’m gone?” You hadn’t heard Dabi sound so uncertain before. Usually he carried so much confidence that it was overwhelming. But now he sounded lost.

Shoto nodded, “Yeah it’s not a big deal. Izuku and I can take shifts. Kirishima will probably take over every now and then depending on how long you are gone… But we don’t mind. Y/n was right when she said we’d like to catch up with her.” He gave you an awkward wink that was completely out of character for him. “You’ve been hoarding her all to yourself for months now.” He walked down the hall and shouted, “Try not to be too loud. I’ll just pick the room that smells the least like sex.”

“Good luck! I’ve fucked her on every surface of the hou—” You slammed a hand over Dabi’s mouth to cut him off.

You hid your face in Dabi’s shoulder to stifle your laugh. “I love your brother so much. He has no filter and it’s honestly so refreshing.”

A quick slap to your thigh had you gasping, “I don’t appreciate you talking about my brother that way.” He nipped at your earlobe harshly, “Especially after I just agreed to let him stay here while I’m gone.”

Before you could respond he was standing up and throwing you over his shoulder, “I think I need to remind you who you fucking belong to.” He slapped your ass as you shrieked, “I might be gone for a while, so I think I need to give you something to remember.”

“You are so ridiculous! He’s literally in a committed relationship with another man!”

Dabi tossed you onto his bed and immediately fell on top of you. “He’s also my brother and I know that slut swings both ways.” He bit down hard on your shoulder, “I’m going to leave my fucking mark all over you before I go.” He sucked a bruise into your neck, “Tonight… I’m going to claim every fucking inch of you.”

He had you naked underneath him within seconds, kissing down the column of your neck. He continued down to suck a nipple into his mouth and you had to bite down on your lip to keep from screaming.

“Come on baby, let him hear you. Let him hear how good I treat you. Let him know that there is only one Todoroki for you.”

You wanted to argue with him. There was no way Shoto was interested in you at all. He’d been in love with Izuku since high school. But you were also enjoying the way Dabi was marking his territory. There was something so peaceful about giving up control to another person, especially someone you trust.

You let him kiss and suck and grope every part of you. In this moment you were his to do with as he wished. You didn’t care he was leaving mark after mark on your skin. He was claiming you, he was daring others to lay a finger on what it is his. And you fucking loved it. You loved the peace and the comfort that came with the idea of him declaring that you are his. The security of knowing he wouldn’t let another soul touch you.

He bit harshly into your inner thigh, making you yelp and buck your hips.

He chuckled darkly as he came back up and rubbed his nose against yours. “Baby girl, just look at your face. I haven’t even touched your pussy yet and you already looked so fucked out.” He dragged his fingers lightly over your stomach, across your ribs, over your breast, and finally let them settle on your neck.

You shivered and closed your eyes, “Dabiiii, stop teasing me.”

His fingers tightened around your throat. “You said some shit earlier that really got under my skin. And now I can’t decide if I should punish you or not.”

Your head spun as it tried to think about what you possibly could have said to upset him. “What – what did I say?”

Dabi leaned in sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before biting down hard. “You said…. You loved my brother.”

Your heart pounded in your chest and you felt an intense heart overwhelm your face and neck. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? Was he jealous? Did he want you to say you loved him? Is that really what he wanted to hear?

You hadn’t noticed him pulling his own pants down until he was thrusting into you. “I’m a selfish man y/n. I’m greedy. I don’t share. And hearing those sweet little words said about someone else.” His hips snapped into yours harder, as his fingers got even tighter around your neck to the point where you were sure there would be bruises.

His pace picked up and you could feel the sweat dripping from his forehead, “I wanna hear you say it. Who do you love?”

Your eyes rolled back as you croaked out a horse “you”

“That’s not good enough doll. I said! WHO do you FUCKIN LOVE?”

His fingers let go of your throat and as intense pleasure washed over you, leaving your legs shaking, “YOU!”

He fucked you through your orgasm before he followed right behind you, “That’s what I fuckin thought.”

He only parted with you long enough to clean the two of you up. He wandered to the bathroom to get a warm, wet towel. You hummed contently as rubbed it all over your body, especially over the sore new marks he had made on your skin. When he was satisfied, he tossed the rag to the floor to deal with later and rejoined you in bed. He pulled you to him, your back to his chest, and let out a huge sigh. “I’m really nervous about leaving you here. And it honestly makes me angry. I’ve never cared about another person like this, hell I’ve never even cared about my own well being this much.” You could feel him resting his chin on your shoulder, “It makes me feel weak and I hate it.”

You intertwined your fingers with his that were wrapped around your middle. “You know what they say about bravery right? Bravery isn’t not being scared. Only stupid people aren’t scared of anything. Bravery is being scared of something and doing it anyway.” You sank further into his embrace. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m scared too. Which is equally as frustrating.”

You could feel him kiss your shoulder, encouraging you to continue. “I used to be incredibly independent. I lived alone, I worked alone, because of the classified nature of my job I was pretty isolated. I didn’t need anyone, and I was more than happy to get shit done on my own…Now the thought doing anything without you gives me anxiety.”

He sighed, “If anything that makes me feel worse… I believe we have a classic case of codependency… it’s your fault by the way. For sucking me in to your annoyingly needy arms.”

“Says the guy who has his arms currently wrapped around me like a vice.” You wanted to stay in this sweet moment. He was never this open with you, never this soft. “And even though it’s not my fault, I will admit that I did kind of need you for everything when I first got here.” You felt his chest rumble with silent laughter. “But you never really complained, did you? To be honest I had thought you would have been… I don’t know… a little more… cold I guess.”

His hands heated up as they rubbed circles into your stomach. “To anyone else I definitely would have been.” He turned you around so he could pull your chest to his and rolled onto his back, tucking your head under his chin. “I was fucking toast the second you fell into my arms though.” He groaned, “UGH! I sound like such a pussy. I hate it.”

You pressed several kisses to his chest, “Well I don’t hate it.”

There was a long stretch of silence in which the two of you just held each other, not wanting to burst your bubble.

Dabi cleared his throat and you knew he wanted to talk about it. “Listen… While I’m gone all of the laws are still valid. You still need to take care of yourself. Just because I’m not here to force you to eat lunch doesn’t mean you don’t have to.” His fingers rubbed up and down your spine. “I’m sure if you ask the guys, they’ll work out with you, but they need to keep their filthy hands to themselves.” His hand stopped at your collar, “And as much I hate saying this. Don’t call me.”

You lifted your head and gave him a confused look, “What? You worried your side chicks will hear?”

He reached down and slapped your ass, “Shut up. I literally live with you and we never leave the house. That jokes not even funny.” His hand started to rub the same spot he had just slapped, “I’m being serious though. I don’t want you to call me. If something happens and they get my phone, or hell if they somehow capture me, I don’t want anything tying me to you. Shigaraki suspects you’re with me otherwise he wouldn’t be going through my safe houses. But he doesn’t know you’re with me, and I want to keep it that way.” His voice got quitter as he mumbled into your hair, “Besides… I think if I heard your voice I’d give up and come home.”

You froze, “Okay, that is officially the softest thing you’ve ever said to me… and I love it.”

He growled low in your ear, “That’s it, I’m going to start calling you whore, and making you call me sir. I’m losing my damn edge.”

You just giggled, knowing he was bluffing, but then again… he did get you a collar.

“I’m going to miss you… sir.”

“I’m gonna miss you too… my special little whore.”

You sarcastically beamed at him, “Aww you think I’m special?”

That night, you barley slept. You were so worried he’d leave without waking you up to say bye. So, as a consequence you woke up several times throughout the night and every time, he’d pull you closer and mumble a sleepy “still here.”

When morning finally came you sat on the bed with your kneed tucked under your chin as you watched him finish getting ready. Your eyes followed him as he walked around the room, taking his time. He knew the sooner he got dressed the sooner he’d have to leave.

Finally, when he had no other choice, he laced his boots up and looked at you. “Come here…” He held his arms out to you and you quickly slid into his embrace. “You be a good girl while I’m gone, okay?” He kissed the top of your head. “Listen to Shoto and try not to give him too much shit. Follow the laws, don’t watch any of our shows while I’m gone, if there’s any big emergencies have one of the guys call Bakugo.”

You nodded and looked up into his bright blue eyes, “You be safe, and don’t do anything stupid. Come back preferably in one piece please.”

He chuckled, “I will do my best doll.”

************

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99 @squichymochi

[erin-bo-berin]

Prove It

MASTERLIST

This was an anon request of Spencer getting mad at being teased and being motivated enough to prove he’s not vanilla. This took forever from the time it was first requested for me to write and post it, so I’m so sorry to the anon who requested it. It feels like it’s been FOREVER since I’ve posted a smut too, so enjoy some smutty Spencer to start your week. Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut, rough sex)

Word Count: 4,246

“I will never understand it.”

“Understand what?” you asked.

You sat down in one of the chairs in the jet, across from coworker and teammate Derek Morgan.

You and the team you were a part of, the Behavioral Analysis Unit—BAU for short—of the FBI had just solved another case and were on the way home.

You’d seen plenty of sickos before, so another one didn’t seem to surprise you. Of course, it was disgusting and aggravating, horrifying and awful, but you never pretended to understand unsubs in the first place. So you were quite curious about what Morgan was thinking out loud about.

Spencer Reid plopped down in the chair next to you with his cup of coffee.

How the man managed to live off coffee and actually go to sleep was a mystery to you. At this point it would benefit him to just have his coffee injected into him through IV, that’s how much he consumed.

“This S&M stuff,” Morgan waved his hand, “It’s insane.”

The case they’d just recently closed had involved a guy who had taken his violent sexual desires a step too far and found himself turned on by actually murdering women. Whether it was by choking or gagging, somehow he’d discovered he got a sexual release from killing his female partners.

What started as auto erotic asphyxiation—something that was incredibly dangerous to begin with—had turned to something more sinister and even more deadly.

“When done right, it’s actually not as bad as some of these unsubs make us believe,” Spencer said.

“I’m sure you know all about it, don’t you kid?” Morgan replied, sarcastically.

“Anyway,” he continued, before Spencer could cut in again, “I’m not judging people who do it, it just seems like even when it’s done right, it’s too dangerous to even be exciting. It’d be a mood killer for me.”

“Oh don’t tell me you don’t bring out your dominant side every once and awhile,” you smirked, teasing him.

“Hey, I’m all for some good rough sex. I’m not as vanilla as pretty boy here, but I’m not about to emotionally and physically scar Savannah.”

“Hey! What’s that’s supposed to mean?!” Spencer protested.

Savannah was Morgan’s wife, now of three years. They had a son together, Hank. Being a parent according to Morgan, you didn’t get much “mommy and daddy time”, but even then, it didn’t stop him from shamelessly sharing details about his sex life. You got used to it; it was just a Derek thing anyway.

“Sure, I’ve done some tying up and spanking, but that’s mild compared to some practices in BDSM. I once asked Reid about it and unfortunately learned more than I ever wanted to about it.”

“Excuse me,” Spencer broke in, “What’s the vanilla remark supposed to mean?”

Both yours and Derek’s heads turned to see Spencer’s brows furrowed.

“Kid, vanilla ice cream is spicier than you,” Morgan teased.

“Oh come on, that’s not true!” Spencer retorted, exasperated.

“I’m sorry Reid, I just can’t imagine you being kinky. I mean do you just spout facts during sex or what?”

You held back a snicker although you heard the rest of the team chuckling.

“No, I don’t,” Spencer flushed.

You averted your eyes from his gaze.

You and Spencer had been dating for a little while, the team none the wiser to your relationship. You couldn’t quite defend him without giving it away.

It wasn’t really a secret per se, you just mutually decided not to say anything until it became more serious. You had only slept together a few times anyway, so it wasn’t like you were familiar with his sexual proclivities.

“You’re more vanilla than Vanilla Ice,” Morgan joked, making you choke on your sip of water, laughing.

“How would you know anyway?” Spencer crossed his arms, his face now a deep red, “I could be kinkier than you know.”

“Dude, when’s the last time you even slept with a girl?” Morgan asked with a raised brow, “Wasn’t it that bartender Austin from a case 11 years ago?”

Spencer pressed his lips together tightly. He wasn’t going to say anything and you knew it because it would give away yours and his personal business.

“That’s what I thought. Vanilla,” Derek laughed, standing to refill his tumbler with more whiskey, “Don’t worry Pretty Ricky, not everyone has to be an animal in bed.”

He patted Spencer’s shoulder as he walked by to head to the back of the jet—and the whiskey decanter.

You could tell by Spencer’s pursed lips that he was annoyed.

You promised yourself that when the jet landed, you would apologize.

•

You had been wrong.

Spencer wasn’t annoyed.

He was pissed.

“Spencer, I’m sorry,” you repeated for the hundredth time.

Once the jet had landed, everyone went their separate ways, so no one was the wiser when you’d climbed into Spencer’s car. You had spent more time at his place lately than your own, so you were heading back to his apartment with him.

The entire drive was filled with tense silence. His jaw stayed clenched all the way home.

“Spence, please talk to me. If I hurt your feelings, that wasn’t my intention.”

You followed him into his apartment, watching as he sat down his go bag and satchel by the door. You sat your own things near his, as well.

You didn’t miss how tense he was, indicating his anger.

“Spence-” you began, but got cut off by his sharp tone.

“Go into the bedroom, take off all your clothes and get on the bed,” he snapped.

You were taken back, unsure if you’d heard him right the first time.

“What?”

“I said, go into the bedroom, take off all your clothes and get on the bed. I won’t repeat myself. And don’t make me do it myself cause you will regret it.”

You stood frozen in place for a second, your mouth opening and closing. By the look on his face, you could tell he was serious. 

“O-Okay,” you stammered, walking backwards to the bedroom.

You had no idea what he had planned, but deep down, you could feel the tingle of excitement beginning to work its way to the surface. Maybe some rough sex would ease his anger.

You were out of your shirt and pants before you reached the bed. You pulled off your bra, letting it fall from your fingertips and then rid your underwear before climbing onto the bed like you were asked to do, laying back.

It was at least a good ten minutes before Spencer came into the room, with something in each hand.

“What’s that?”

He didn’t answer you. 

He sat what appeared to be a glass of ice on the nightstand and grabbed one of your wrists, starting to tie it to the bedpost with what you now realized was one of his ties.

You watched as he tied the opposite one before you spoke.

“Spence, I-”

“Quiet. I don’t want to hear another word from you unless I say to speak,” he growled, climbing onto the bed, hovering over you.

His face lingered above yours, his lips not far from your own. He didn’t kiss you yet, but you could feel his warm breath fanning over your face, the anticipation of his lips finally being on yours making you anxious. 

His nose nudged yours gently as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, his eyes lidded, although they occasionally flicked up toward yours. He knew how much you wanted him to kiss you and he was using that to his advantage.

Finally, it came, feather light. It was like kissing a cloud, the faint touch not nearly enough to satiate your needs. You tried to lean upwards to meet his lips again, taking what you wanted, what you needed, but he pulled out of your reach, a wicked smirk on his face.

“Oh so this is how it’s going to be?” you mock pouted.

“My bed, my rules,” he answered.

The anticipation of this kiss made your heart race and your breath hitch. If he was willing enough to deprive you this easily and this early on, what else was he capable of?

When his lips finally met yours, it was in a surprisingly gentle manner, considering you were currently tied to his bedposts. His mouth glided along with yours, the intensity picking up rather quickly. 

His hunger and anger seemed to meld into one as he kissed you roughly, pulling back enough to capture your lower lip between his, his teeth softly scraping over it. A small, satisfied sigh emitted from you, against his lips.

Your mouth parted as you continued to enjoy the feel of his mouth on yours, his tongue being both graceful and teasing at the same time, it moving swiftly over your bottom lip.

You were already struggling with your restraints, wanting to touch him as he kissed you. Normally, your touch was everywhere on him when you kissed. From his face to his shoulders and chest and in his curls, you ravished being able to touch him. But you didn’t have that luxury right now and it was absolutely killing you.

He pulled away, lips hovering over your jaw as he kissed it just slightly, ready to move on to other areas.

“By the time I’m done with you, you’ll have more than enough proof that I’m anything but vanilla,” he whispered huskily, placing a kiss against your throat.

Your thighs clamped inadvertently as you suddenly became even more turned on than you had been previously. He reached over you, towards the ice, grabbing a cube.

You watched him intently, gasping sharply when the shock of cold touched your skin, just along your collarbone.

“You gonna be a good girl and do what I say?” he asked, sliding the ice cube along your chest.

You nodded eagerly, biting down on your lip as he moved the ice over the swell of your breast and across your nipple making them tighten, both from the cold and your arousal. His lips followed the trail of ice over your breasts, tongue moving out to encircle your nipple and flick it. He repeated it on the opposite side and you gave a moan of approval at his explorations.

A trail of water was left behind on your skin as he continued on, gliding the ice down the middle of your chest towards your stomach. You felt goosebumps prickle your skin at the continuous icy cold sensation.

“You’re so hot, you’re making the ice melt quickly,” he purred.

His touch left you as he reached back towards the nightstand to grab another cube. Apparently he’d been right, as the first cube had melted completely. 

Once the coolness touched your skin again you found yourself gasping. As tantalizing as this teasing was, you were extremely turned on by it. You could feel the heat within your body, your core already starting to pulsate with arousal.

“I really hate that I can’t touch you,” you groaned, tugging on your restraints.

“But that’s what makes it fun, sweetheart,” he grinned, placing a kiss on your stomach.

The ice cube moved down one of your sides, over your hip, where he gave it a playful squeeze. Then the cold hit the top of your thighs, his other hand gliding to the top of the opposite one.

You were desperate at the point and automatically widened the space between your legs. If anything, you were going to let him get a good view of just how wet you were.

His eyes flickered downwards then back up towards your face, a satisfied smirk on his lips. You squirmed, anxious for him to do anything.

“Problem, love?” he cooed.

You glared, arching your hips in an attempt to get some sort of contact.

He chuckled, spreading your legs further. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but the ice moving over your outer lips definitely wasn’t it.

You hissed at the sudden cold, but you didn’t hate it at all. Not like you hated these fucking restraints. You cursed when he pressed it against your clit.

“Fuck, that feels good,” you moaned.

He hummed, looking up at you through his lashes. You groaned in frustration, throwing your head back against the pillow, tugging at your bound wrists again.

You wanted to push his head or his hands to your throbbing core; maybe both at this rate.

“Spencer, please,” you whimpered.

“Okay,” he relented, sitting back on his heels, “You’ve been a good girl so far.”

He reached over you, pulling the knotted ties loose from around your wrists. It was like sweet freedom to you. 

Before you could even touch him, he’d taken a hold of you, rolling you over so you were straddling his stomach.

“Ooh, I’m in control? I like,” you grinned, leaning down to kiss him.

You didn’t quite make it to his lips.

“Think again.”

He grabbed the back of your thighs, roughly pulling you up to sit on his face. This, you hadn’t suspected.

“Oh god,” you moaned lowly as his tongue slid up your outer lips.

His hands held your thighs tightly and he wasted no time diving right in. His tongue flicked your clit and you had to grab a hold of the headboard just to make sure you didn’t collapse on top of him.

Of course oral sex had been a part of your sex life with Spencer prior to this, but never in this way. He was usually more timid about it. But right now, he went for it in a very enthusiastic manner.

“Fuck, Spence.”

You groaned, his lips circling your clit to suck on it briefly before releasing it with a tiny pop of his mouth. His tongue flicked over it again, alternating in speed and pressure.

You had thought it couldn’t get any better until you felt a finger slide into you. You could’ve sworn you almost lost your mind at that point. His finger slowly pumped in and out of you, matching the now slower speed of his tongue that seemed to be licking everywhere but your clit.

“Dammit Spencer,” you groaned, slightly grinding against his mouth for some friction.

You jerked a bit, a surprised squeal coming from you when his hand came down on your ass. It wasn’t a bad reaction though, it had just excited you even more.

“Did you just spank me?!” you asked incredulously.

He hummed, sending a delicious vibration against your clit as his hand came down again on your ass making you moan loudly.

You had no idea there was this side to him.

“Fuck, Spencer, yes baby,” you whined, your hips moving back and forth over his face as his fingers and tongue drove you crazy.

The faster his fingers went, the harder his tongue moved. You were gripping the headboard so tight, your knuckles were white.

“Ah!” you squealed, at an additional spank.

It wasn’t hard enough to be too rough and painful, just hard enough to be incredibly sexy, sending a charge directly to your currently, extremely stimulated clit.

It was also incredibly appealing to you to feel the slight scratch of his facial hair against your nether regions as he ravished you. 

You could feel your entire body tensing, preparing for the rush of adrenaline and ecstasy. Apparently, Spencer could too.

He worked you until you came shattering apart above him. His name mixed with a loud moan and curses sprinkled in.

When the high had ebbed a bit, he moved you back to sit on his stomach, a wolfish grin on his face. You still felt a bit dazed since there was still a bit of buzz left tingling within you.

You noticed then that your boyfriend was way overdressed.

“It’s time to do something about these,” you mumbled, unbuttoning his dress shirt, “You’ve got too many clothes on.”

He allowed you to pull his shirt off, but his hand grabbed yours just as they reached for his belt.

“I am going to fuck you bent over my desk and only bent over my desk.”

He gave you no time to react as he’d already lifted you in his arms and stood from the bed, heading to the living room.

“Spencer, what? I-”

The words died on your lips as he entered the living room and his desk came into view. Normally, it was stacked neatly with his books, files, paperwork that he needed to complete, pens, pencils, a couple of coffee mugs, the works. But now, it was completely clear, showing off its deep, dark brown, glossy desktop.

Heat pooled in your stomach when you realized he’d planned ahead for this. He’d imagined bending you over his desk, having his way with you. You swallowed back a moan, already eager for him to be buried inside of you.

Instead of immediately pushing you over the edge of the desk, he sat you on top of it, facing him.

You bit your lip, quite literally looking up through your lashes at him. His tongue moved over his lips, his hunger for you apparent as his hands traced every inch of you.

From your breasts, down your stomach, to your thighs and around towards your bottom, squeezing it gently, his hands traveled every part of you before capturing your mouth in another kiss.

It was no innocent kiss. It was fiery and filled with the mutual hunger for one another. He was still kissing you when he slid you off the desktop, your feet touching the floor once again.

He turned you and had you bent over the edge of his desk in a matter of seconds. You heard the clink and whir of his belt as he unbuckled it, the sound alone sending a charge through you.

You shifted impatiently, much to his notice. He smirked, running a hand between your legs teasingly, as he pushed his suit pants out of the way with the other hand.

He wasted no time on gentle and loving movements. He entered you roughly and quite honestly, when you weren’t expecting it.

You whimpered. The feeling of your most intimate parts stretching just enough to accommodate him was one of the best feelings in the world to you.��

By this point, you’d lost the ability to be quiet. He’d already brought you to one earth shattering orgasm and that was after the tantalizing ice foreplay that had turned you on beyond belief.

Your constant moans filled the room as your hands gripped the edges of the desk.

Your hips were tight in his grip as he thrust into you fast and hard, your own body bouncing off his in the opposite direction. He, for one, was much louder than he normally was. Grunts, groans, mumbled curses and pants came from behind you as he had his way with you.

His lips hovered over your neck, his appraising moans ringing in your ears.

“Fucking shit, fuuuck, Y/N,” he groaned before attaching his lips to your neck.

He sucked harshly, hard enough to know that hickies would be present for the next few days.

You inhaled sharply, feeling the slight sting of his teeth bearing down into your shoulder, but coupled with your current pleasure, it was actually hot.

Your back arched as he focused on what he’d learned—quite quickly, you might add—was one of your absolute sweet spots, his hips aiding in thrusting deeply within you.

Spencer’s hand snaked up your spine, tangling in your hair, his fingers wrapping around a few strands. It surprised you when he pulled on it, firm enough to pull your head to the side. You moaned at the sensation, ready for him to do anything at this point. You were so turned on, you were a moaning, whimpering mess underneath him.

“Still. Think. I’m. Vanilla?”

Each of his words were clipped, growled into your ear and enunciated with a forceful thrust.

“No,” you rasped, quickly losing control of yourself and becoming delirious from the ecstasy he was providing you with.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” he grunted, halting his movements completely.

You about sobbed in agony, wanting the feel of him back. Your hips automatically moved backwards to get some more friction, but Spencer held them still.

“Tell me,” he groaned, the slight strain in his voice indicating he was struggling with keeping still, himself.

You cursed, craving the delicious sensation of him deep within you again especially since you were on the brink of shattering like broken glass.

“Who’s not vanilla?” Spencer taunted.

He began moving once again, his motions slow and teasing. He slid in and out of you with long, lackadaisical thrusts although he made sure each move was deep enough so you could feel every inch of him within you. 

“Dammit Spencer, please,” you mewled, encircling your hips in small movements.

His low groan that came from above you was telling enough that he was trying and failing to keep his cool.

“Answer me,” he murmured huskily, his lips traveling up your back, hands reaching forward to massage your breasts in his hands.

“Answer me,” he repeated, “And I’ll fuck you like you deserved to be fucked.”

Your mouth dropped, a haggard moan escaping your throat. You weren’t used to hearing Spencer dirty talk and you’d realized that you instantly loved it.

His facial hair scratched your cheek as his mouth moved in the vicinity of it, sucking on your jaw.

“Be a good girl and answer me and I promise I’ll fuck you so hard you’ll see stars, baby girl,” his low whisper came, one hand gliding between your legs, finger ghosting your clit.

“I’ll make you cum harder than you even imagined. Until you’re dripping all over my cock. I wanna fuck my girl, good, Spencer purred.

“Oh my god,” you cried, the overstimulation of his words and his touch finally getting you to lose absolute control of your conscious mind.

“You, Spencer, you,” you moaned.

The only sounds that filled his living room were the mixed moans and the sound of your bodies moving together as he fulfilled his promise and resumed his earlier pace though more erratic this time.

Your inadvertent clenching around him with every move was making him lose control quickly. 

“Fuck, fuuuuck,” you whined, clenching the edges of the desk so hard you knew your hands would be sore later.

In the back of your mind, a small part of you registered that you most likely sounded akin to a pornstar right now, though you didn’t spend much time on the thought. The fire in your veins was igniting the growing pressure in your stomach, like a furnace growing too hot.

It took less than a few moves before you went tumbling over the cliff of ecstasy. Your eyes screwed shut, your vision going completely white behind your closed eyes as you managed out a satisfied, bliss filled cry.

It was like lightning had struck your body except the electricity had come straight from the pit of your belly. Spencer had been right, it was the most intense orgasm you’d ever experienced.

It was the body shaking, breathtaking, best kind of high ever, type of intense.

His own had soon followed as you’d tumbled down the rabbit hole of your own delirium. His hands gripped your sides and his body shuddered behind yours.

“Y/N, Y/N,” he groaned repeatedly, still moving with you, wringing every last drop of pleasure out of both of your orgasms.

His face was buried in the crook of your neck as you arched back into him, reaching behind him to grip his hair as you rode out the waves of pleasure.

It took a few moments before both of you stilled, your breathing hard, heart beating wildly. 

When your senses had somewhat turned to normal and the rushing of your blood in your ears had calmed down, you noticed your legs shaking—a definite sign of a good fucking.

You felt his breath on your neck, his breathlessness matching your own. Your body felt slick against his from all of the exertion, but it had been totally worth it. 

Spencer pushed your hair to one side of your neck, burying his face into your neck sweetly before leaving a gentle kiss there.

“My god, Spencer,” you half laughed, trying to focus the tiny bit of energy you had left on attempting to stand.

Disconnecting himself from you, he turned you to face him. He lifted you back on to the desktop to sit, not caring that your thighs were currently slick with the product of his own orgasm. Your quivering legs were thankful for the momentary reprieve though.

“I know,” he smirked, “Didn’t know I had it in me, huh?”

“Definitely not,” you smirked, lifting your face up towards his.

Your lips met his lazily. You spent a few minutes enjoying one other, mouths parting and meeting over and over, enjoying the post coital consequential kisses before getting cleaned up.

His hands splayed over the tops of your thighs, stroking gently. He may have been rough with you earlier, but you knew his gentle touch was him wordlessly assuring himself you were okay.

You were actually more than okay—you had definitely been well fucked.

“Spencer?” you mumbled against his lips.

“Hmm?”

He pulled away from you, his eyes opening, his dreamy, currently hazy, hazel eyes meeting yours. 

“Remind me to never listen to Morgan ever again.”

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[hanyaksha]

「call you mine」 xiao x f!reader 18+

genre: smut

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+ ONLY !

includes: fingering, creampie, top xiao/dom!xiao, wet and messy

summary: it takes a lot to catch the attention of an adepti - especially Xiao. Although still confused by the unfamilliar feeling, he's got his eyes on her around Liyue or Wangshu Inn.

'There she goes again', Xiao thought as he saw you strutting just outside Wangshu Inn, bowing repeatedly to say your apologies to the person you accidentally bumped into. You were running and seemed to be in a hurry when suddenly this man blocked the road you were speeding in, causing you and him to clash. Xiao doesn't normally care about mortal lives, it just so happened that whenever he decided to rest outside the terrace of Wangshu Inn you would always be somewhere outside catching his attention. You're either running around in a hurry or working your ass off trying to make a living by selling sweets and delicacies that somehow became the favorite place for kids around town to visit.

'how clumsy. human lives really are fragile.' he unconsciously thought to himself as he continues to watch from a distance. He saw how you laughed it off with the man you accidentally bumped, how it was easy for you to smile and radiate a warm aura. In his eyes you looked pure. Xiao compared himself to you and scowled at the thought that he could never be someone like you. He feels his chest tighten as he gets reminded of his own demons, his past and all of those who he slaughtered with his own hands, the bloodbath forever painted in his memory. Frowning, he sighed and decided to shrug the ugly feeling off. His eyes wandered around, unconsciously trying to look for your familiar aura only to find you gone from the last spot he saw you standing. With nothing else to do, he kept searching until he caught a glimpse of you from a distance near Dihua Marsh, gliding around with Venti as he creates wind currents for both of you to fly on.

'ah, the bard' he thought. You two were having fun and he can tell you're enjoying yourself just by the look of how you laughed. Xiao felt calm watching you simply being you. Even if it's from a distance, a part of him craved for that warmth somewhere close to him. He wondered what it would feel if someone like you would share that to someone as tainted as him. Xiao glowered when he realized that he was longing for a human. He stopped himself from thinking any more than that. There was no need for you to be involved with the likes of him, it would only make him feel worse knowing that he would be of no good to you. He didn't want your pure glow and warmth to fade away because of him. Xiao sighed and decided to walk back in the inn where he would rather rest to keep your memory out of his head. He had known you for quite sometime now, despite it being from a distance it was surprising that he felt like he had met you. It wasn't difficult for him to somehow feel comfortable seeing your presence outside the Inn. He loved the way your clothes would flow against your body, how your skin looks soft under the sunlit sky. You looked ethereal, he simply adores that and is unknowingly thirsty to get a taste of your gentle touch. Despite refusing to involve himself to mortals he still grew a liking to you, making you an exception. He convinced himself that he doesn't have any time to meddle with a human's life yet his thoughts and actions contradicts this. He feels like he's about to lose his mind as scenarios of you and him fill it up. Xiao leaned back to his chair, throwing his head back as he massages the bridge of his nose. He looked like he couldn't bear to think more of you or he'll go insane. It wasn't enough to just simply think of you - he wanted your presence, he wanted it near and he wanted it now.

Xiao growled and glared at the wall. Standing up, he went out of the Inn. He decided to just come get you himself. He realized how long he was lost in his thoughts when he noticed the moonlight outside. He didn't mind it and just continued to venture out in search of your familiar scent and aura, hoping he'll catch a glimpse of you somewhere near. It didn't take long until he saw you close on a cliff just outside the parameters of the Inn, desperately trying to reach out to the violetgrass you were trying to harvest. Xiao stayed hidden in the branches of a tall tree, hesitating and rethinking his actions because he was unsure of how to interact with you. He was worried he would just scare you away since he was, after all, a vigilant yaksha adeptus. He noticed you struggling to take a hold of the particular flower so he decided to take matters in his own hands and to just help you with it. Xiao leaped and swiftly took it as he landed beside you to hand it over. Surprised by how fast everything went by, you stared at the man in front of you, his golden honey eyes glimmered from the soft light of the full moon added by the glow of the Wangshu Inn from a distance made everything perfect. He was breathtaking, you felt your heart pounding as you reached out to take the flower from his hand. You knew who he was, mainly because you would often hang out with Venti to ask about him. There was something about this adepti that made you want to learn more about who he was. People in Liyue says that he rarely shows himself, even during the Lantern Rite Festival you find yourself hoping for him to come out. And now lo and behold, he's right in front of you - the man you have always hoped to meet.

"thank you," you gave him a slight bow to show your gratitude for his help. You were also extremely worried that he might hear the loud beating of your heart because of how quiet the night was. "it's dangerous to be out here at this time." He said, his voice as cold as the wind blowing. You smiled and chuckled at him before you replied "my bad, I wanted to help out Baizhu because he needed some Violetgrasses. They ran out of it and I couldn't let Qiqi do it herself" you feel Xiao's gaze piercing at you so you look down and felt a shiver ran down your spine everytime the wind blowed. You didn't know what he was thinking, he's unpredictable. His gaze didn't show a hint of what was on his mind. "you're cold. come." your face immediately flared up when he reached out his arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. The butterflies in your stomach went crazy when you felt your bodies touch. Xiao summoned his primordial jade spear as he tightly held you close, you felt a sharp cold all over your skin as you closed your eyes and the next thing you know, both of you are at where it seems to be like the Wangshu Inn. The view was amazing from Xiao's quarters, you can see Mt. Qingce and Jueyun Karst far in the distance under the night sky. He was standing right beside you, an arm still around your waist and as you're busy admiring the view outside, Xiao was preoccupied studying your features. He thought your hair smelled nice, and that the shape of your body fit right in his arms. It was amazing how he made you feel so comfortable despite just meeting each other.

"you feel familiar... and your warmth, I'm drawn to it." he says with a straight yet calm voice. Xiao was doing his best to stop himself from just throwing you on the bed and be one with you. As much as he wants that, he wouldn't want you to feel unsafe around him. He didn't want to hurt you either because he knows what his strength is capable of. Blood rushed to your face as embarrassment seeped in by hearing his words. Maybe it was because he felt the same way as you did that caused an uproar to the butterflies in your stomach. Still quietly standing there, you were unsure of what to do. You were cautious that your actions might come off as rude or disrespectful to an adeptus like him. He studied your expression and slowly turned to look away and fixed his gaze on the painting to his right instead. "are you afraid?... do I scare you?" he calmly asked. It was almost as if he was ashamed of himself in which you immediately denied to. "of course not! It's just that I want to be closer to you but I'm afraid I'll make you feel uncomfortable. I really am happy to be here." you tried to reach out to touch him but decided to stop in your tracks, your hand left hanging in the air. A part of you wanted to comfort him, to close that gap between the two of you but at the same time you didn't want to cross his boundaries. Xiao didn't know what to feel, it has been a while since he felt happy and he thought he almost forgot this type of emotion. He's very new to this kind of thing, he hasn't done this to any other woman besides you so he although he didn't want to admit felt slightly embarrassed about opening himself up to you. Xiao fixed his gaze to meet your eyes, his honey orbs shining in the moonlight leaving you mesmerized by his beauty. He was breahtaking and you could feel his eyes burning holes in your body. It was as if he wanted to say something but just couldn't--just hoping you would get the memo through eye contact. Xiao broke the tension to look at your hand still in the air. You noticed him staring and as you were about to place it back down he caught it with his own and laced his fingers into yours. Embarrassment started to wash all over you. You wanted to yank your hand back but you knew you'll immediately miss his touch if you do so. Unconsciously you bit your lip to stop your face from turning into a complete replica of a tomato. Seeing that sight of you drove Xiao crazy, the eagerness to be closer with you grew faster as every second passes by. Xiao isn't usually the type to be the first to make a move but he yearned for you so much until he could no longer take it. He acted without thinking twice and went in for a kiss, his hands slowly going up to cup the back of your head to pull you closer. You were surprised but you soon didn't have the time to care about it because of how easily you got drunk by his kisses. It was obvious Xiao didn't have much experience in this, his kisses were sloppy but at the same time it was gentle. It was slow and he took the time to explore your mouth as his tongue slipped in. Your knees trembled as the tension around the two of you grew, any further than this might make your legs give in. You clinged on to him as your knees felt jelly, Xiao groaning in the process in response to your sudden shift of movement.

Hearing him groan was the cherry on top for you to go insane. It was too much and you feel your body heating up as both of you grew more needy of each other's touch. With one hand cupping the back of your head, Xiao placed his other on your waist to pull you closer. Your bodies touched as he continues to make out with you, he pulled you in so close that your boobs are all pressed up against him. You groaned when you felt his boner, driving Xiao crazy when he too felt stimulated. "mhm," he moaned, hand gripping tighter on your waist. You were so close that you can't help but grind on his hardened member while both of you moaned in each other's kisses. Xiao held on to your thighs, pulling it up to carry you. You felt his dick graze on your clothed pussy, the friction making you dripping wet. Xiao carried you and laid you on his soft bed, making sure that your head would be supported by a pillow underneath. He was caring despite his hungry kisses and you blushed at the thought of him being thoughtful for your well being. Xiao didn't waste any time after he laid you in bed, he reached out for your clothes and slowly stripped you out of each garment, planting hickeys here and there as his hands traveled on your sensitive body. "mhm... Xiao...more.. please--hngh" you tried to beg only to be cut off by your own moan when Xiao decided to place his lips on your nipple, his free hand groping the other. "be a patient good girl for me." he cooed. Xiao was emitting such lewd sounds as he sucked on your nipple, his other hand slowly making its way down to your already wet cunt, his fingers kneading slow circles on your folds. You squirmed and moaned underneath him, your knees folded and closed due to the sensation. "how sensitive.. so pretty." Xiao nibbled on your lips before using his hand to pull your knees apart to allow him to move his fingers easier. He wanted you wide open for him, all stretched out for him so he can feel you dripping for him. You arched your back when you feel him press his digits on the folds of your pussy, slowly prodding on the entrance while his thumb was kneading on your budding clit. You tightened around his fingers, each move heating you up as you craved for more. Xiao kept planting hickeys around your breasts, occasionally sucking and licking on your nipple while his fingers played with your pretty little cunt.

"hngh... want you.. Xiao--ngh" you begged. Any more of his stimulation might make you cum, especially when he knew exactly where to touch you down there. Xiao ignored your plea, still insisting on teasing you. He liked the idea of being in control and having you weak for him with your mouth open while you moan, eyes shut, hands gripping on his hair and back arched while your pussy is being played. He used slow motions to play with your folds and the insides of you, making sure that he touches the right spots to send shivers down your legs. "no.. ngh.. Xiao.. faster--please" you pleaded breathlessly. But Xiao was strict and stubborn to his actions and instead of obeying to your wishes, he switched from sucking on your nipple to nibbling on your ear. "so needy." he whispered as he curled his fingers inside you and made small circles on the walls of your pussy. You were a moaning mess, he hit your g-spot so good that you tightened around him. You feel it building up inside you, if he keeps going any further you might just come on his hand right then and there. Xiao used his two digits to spread and carress the walls of your pussy, giving you no choice but to just moan harder to the sensation. "Xiao--nnghh I might.. I--" Xiao cut you off, his lips shutting you up as he kissed you torridly.

"Not yet." his voice was stern and strict. It felt more like an order that you had to obey or else you'll face consequences should you wish to disobey him. He pulled out his fingers before you reached your limit. You feel your cunt throbbing, eagerly craving for him to fill you up. Xiao sat back to strip himself, his hands finding its way to grip on your knees to keep it wide open for him. You took a good glimpse of his cock, tip already dripping with precum. You wanted it in so bad. Xiao wasted no time and began to grind the tip of his member on your clit, making sure that his dick is coated by the juices of your wet pussy. Your moans echoed in his room, he was teasing you and he did it nice and slow, making you more and more impatient. You wanted to beg, to make him hear your pleas but you did your best to remain patient and do as he ordered. After a while of more teasing, he loomed over you. His hair was falling on his face as he prompted himself over you and you swore the sight could make any woman in Teyvat lose their sanity.

"good girl." he burrowed his face in the crook of your neck and planted soft kisses on it, his hands carressing your torso and groping your breasts all while at the same time making you feel the tip of his cock enter your pussy. You were so wet and it wasn't even his whole dick inside you yet, the stimulation just drove you insane and knowing that it was Xiao fucking you was enough to turn you into a moaning hot mess. You feel the tip slip in and you arched your back as you moaned. He was all over your body, making sure that his hands and lips were planted on your skin so you don't forget his warmth. He kept teasing, only letting the tip in and grinding it in the entrance of your dripping cunt. "hngnh.. Xiao.. please--ughn, I want it.. in-" It was this familiar feeling again. Any more of his teasing and you might just come. It was just too good and a big part of you just wanted his whole thing stuffed in you. "hmm.. so impatient." he cooed, his lips brushing on your neck and all the way down to your shoulder. He planted one last kiss on you before sitting back up, his hands now gripping on your knees to spread them wide. He took his member out and held it, using the tip to gather the slick dripping from your cunt before shoving his whole dick in. Moans were the only thing escaping from your lips, head filling in with ecstasy as Xiao pounds his cock in you. He was going in so fast and deep, the curve of his cock grinding on the pulsating tight walls of your wet needy pussy.

"ngh..." his moans were a major turn on and you paired it up with your own sets of moans too, making it the only sound being heard in the room other than the sound of skin slapping from being fucked hard by an adeptus. The pounding of his cock inside you was enough to bring you to cloud9. You reached out to his arms and hugged him close, your fingers digging on his back as his thrusts grew faster. The built up orgasm you had from all his teasing earlier was coming back again but you paid no mind to it and continued moaning. "oh! Xiao... there.. deeper---there!" he went in much closer to you, face buried beside your neck while his hands travelled down to grip on your butt, raising it up a little so he could hit the deepest parts of you better. His cock prodded on your walls that was now tightening up more than before. You were so good around his member, your pussy enveloping every part of his throbbing dick inside you.

"Xiao.. coming.. hnngg--" you wrapped your legs around him to pull him closer, wanting every inch of him go deeper as you neared your orgasm. "Go on. Come for me." he said it with his raspy panting voice right in your ear and licked it as he rammed his cock in a slower but deeper pace. Once again you were a moaning mess, helplessly calling out his name in between moans. You spasmed as you came, toes curling in and your fingers drawing lines on his back as you digged them in his skin. He let out the sexiest moan as you feel his load being shot inside you, deliciously filling you up and the rest dripping out at the entrance of your creaming pussy along with your own cum.

You lay there breathlessly under him, your head still high up in the clouds. You feel him panting beside you and he proceeded to hug you as he rolled over to the side, not minding that his cock was still stuffed inside you. You liked the sloppy feeling of your pussy dripping with his cum and his dick coated by the creamy walls of your hot cunt.

You hugged him back, snuggling in close to him and slowly drifting to sleep. You felt him kiss your forehead after a while and his hand cupped the back of your head to pull you closer to his chest. You had the sweetest dream that night and you couldn't be any more happier than knowing that you were wrapped in his arms during your sleep.

「hanyaksha © 2021」 all content belongs to me. please do not modify, edit, or repost.

[highdramas]

your song, vol. 1 | rockstar!bucky

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

rockstar!bucky barnes x fem!reader, some slight peter parker x reader in later parts (unrequited)

word count: 2429

warnings: references to sex, language, references to drug and alcohol use in later parts, age gap, slow burn-ish

summary: it’s not summer without you. or, that’s what your favorite rockstar always says. it’s all happening.

it is the summer of 1978, and everyone calls you rhiannon, and it has never occurred to you to mind.

really, it was sort of nice. rhiannon is a daredevil. rhiannon goes on tour with bands. rhiannon inspires songs and reads tarot and knows how to light up a room with a smile. rhiannon gets asked if she’s, like, the rhiannon. the rhiannon who rings like a bell through the night.

you’re not. but you’re not going to tell them that.

and, sure, you know that you’re capable of all of these things-- but it’s different when they’re calling you rhiannon.

it’s different when he is calling you rhiannon.

you’ve become somewhat of a myth in the california rock ‘n roll scene. groupies have flocked to you-- and you have somewhat rejected the term. found it degrading, the way that rock stars and fans spoke about groupies. it had been your personal mission during the summer of 1977 to change the way that men in rock spoke about women.

the summer that you met bucky barnes.

really, it wasn’t bucky that you had set your eyes on initially. initially, you’d shown up with his friend, steve rogers, the drummer. you and your group of band aids (you were still coining the name) had an in backstage and the second you had seen steve, you were a bit smitten. he wasn’t your typical rockstar. there was something kind about him, something genuine. he looked at you less like he wanted to fuck you and more like he wanted to know you.

it wasn’t until later that you met bucky. later, once you set out on tour with them.

when you found out that steve had a girl back home and he was simply being kind to you, it had reminded you of your mission. your mission to show all of these men what exactly women had to contribute to music and its existing scene-- and that it was more than being a side piece. more than being a fun distraction on the road.

that was the moment that you swore you would not fall in love with a rockstar.

the hotel you all had checked into was absolutely lavish. it was extravagant and beautiful, high ceilings and marbled floors and the shiniest doorknobs that you’ve ever seen. it’s 3:30 in the morning and the girls-- america and kate being your favorite of the whole bunch-- are out with the guys at the bar. you’re sure that they’re requesting brooklyn songs-- later on, you’d give bucky shit for suggesting that their band name should just be brooklyn. you give steve even more shit for going along with it.

after the revelation with steve, normally, you’d be in the mood to party. but you feel like shit and you fell asleep wrong on the bus and your neck is killing you. you don’t want to be a vibe killer, so you tell the girls to go on without you and maybe you’ll catch up with them later.

instead, at some point, you pad down to the pool. there is one lone figure sitting by an illuminated neon sign. it’s only when you’re within feet that you realize that it’s bucky.

of all of the members of brooklyn, you’d gotten to know bucky the least in the past week that you’ve been on the road with them. steve, sam, and natasha were all nice-- nicer than nice. steve and sam especially, but you knew why.

natasha is nice-- direct and passionate about what she does. and what she does is sing. you always said that brooklyn would be nothing if it wasn’t for nat’s husky vocals and insane songwriting.

then there’s bucky. the guitarist.

kate has been touring with brooklyn awhile now-- went with them on the europe leg. now she’s with their manager, clint, and she seems to know all the gossip. when you asked what was up with bucky-- why he was so quiet, why he didn’t like to party with the others, kate had given you that thousand watt smile and said-- “alright, don’t tell anyone about this, ‘specially buck, but he’s sober. couple years now, from what i hear. it’s real hard for him, being on the road.”

then, your mouth had made a slight o, you had nodded your head, and kate shone like the light she is before dashing off to find clint.

you’re brought back to that conversation now, seeing him hunched over on a reclining chair. you see that he is hugging his legs, smoking a cigarette. a bottle of root beer sits beside him on the ground.

your feet are working before your brain is, and before you know it, you’re standing before him. if he notices your presence, he doesn’t act like it.

“got one to spare?”

that’s when he finally glances up at you. his face is mostly unreadable-- furrowed brows and a set jaw, long brunette hair that almost brushes his shoulders. he is quite handsome. he’s the kind of man that you think is built for moments like these-- sitting by pools, pink neon radiating off his face. the kind of handsome that is a little bit intimidating. not like steve, who is all softness and warm smiles.

you sink onto the pool chair beside bucky as he nods. he passes you a cigarette and you pop it between your lips. bucky’s zippo seems to come out of nowhere, and you watch as the end begins to burn, and you take your first drag of your first cigarette.

a coughing fit ensues. naturally. you hold it awkwardly between the fingers of your right hand and you cover your mouth with your left, hacking up your lungs. bucky’s brows furrow and it’s then, and only then, when the faintest hint of a smirk drags onto his features. “you alright?” his hand moves to your back and rubs in circles, pats it lightly, until you’re bleary eyed and looking over at him with a loud laugh.

it was natural after that.

where bucky was, it was safe to assume that you weren’t far behind. but it wasn’t like that. if anyone asked who you were with, you wore a proud expression and said with little hesitation, “myself.”

each time, bucky glanced between you and whatever sorry schmuck was in your path, and he shrugged his shoulders. “you heard her.”

things were easy with bucky. you had laid the ground rules that night, on the pool chaise. you had straightened your shoulders and you said, “i made the vow not to fall in love with anyone this summer.”

bucky had raised an eyebrow at you and watched as you took his root beer and took a long pull, his eyes fixating onto yours. “funny, so did i.”

the summer of 1977 was a dream.

but you had to wake up.

when you’re not rhiannon, you’re… you. you’re a student at oxford university on a full ride scholarship, studying political science, eventually law. you want to be the first woman president. you have bigger dreams and aspirations than being a band aid.

but you don’t mind slipping into your dream state between the months of may and september. you don’t mind one bit.

on the last night of tour, in nashville, you and bucky had spent the whole night in his room. you talked and you laughed, you laid together and you talked about school and he talked about recording the next album. you said how you wished you could be there for it, and he said how he’d like to see oxford.

that’s another thing about dreams.

when you’re in them, you can nearly believe that they can exist in the real world. but they can’t.

you and bucky had toed a very thin line for a long time. and you tumbled off of it together that night.

when you said your goodbyes in the airport the next morning, everyone else around as well, it seemed to suck any of the intimacy out of the room. you told him then that you always hated airports-- they reminded you of goodbyes.

bucky had shrugged, and said, “they remind me of hellos.”

you hugged. he kissed the corner of your mouth, the closest thing to an outright public display of affection as you two would get. and you left. you went back to real life.

but now, it is 1978. and it is the summer before your senior year of college, and you are backstage at the bee gees at the forum. and brooklyn is opening.

of course you knew that you would see him. he had written you letters over the course of the past year, like a gentleman. you’d tucked them away in your hat box and wrote back about your studies and your roommates. and at the end of the last letter you sent, you wrote: hope you wrote that song about me. xx

you didn’t tell him you were going on the road this summer. you’d been in touch with kate and met up in beverly hills with her. she told you about how she and clint had moved in together in new york and you sipped coffee and went with her as she shopped at places that were far out of your budget. and then you’d met up with clint and he got you your pass.

and now you’re here, with a packed duffel.

it’s a wonder you haven’t run into him yet. there’s a part of you that hopes he doesn’t know-- that he’s going to come out here and see you and that the air is going to be knocked from him as he takes in the visage of you.

beginning to grow anxious, you throw yourself into a chair backstage in a huff. a boy who must be around your age is sitting on the arm of it, and looks down at you curiously. “you alright?”

“never better,” you say and inspect your nail. “you seen the band?”

“who, bee gees? nah, haven’t had a chance--”

“no. brooklyn.”

“oh.” he goes quiet and nods his head. “i got a chance to talk to ‘em just now. i’m trying to do a piece on them.”

your jaw slacks a bit and you nod your head. “oh.” a journalist. of course he is. “how exciting for you.”

“yeah, it’ll be my first real piece. i’ve written some stuff for my college paper, but nothing like this. i can’t believe i even got in. i met this girl gwen and she found me a pass.”

“gwen’s a real keeper,” you say and you wink. your words are honest. you like gwen. “what’s your name, kid?”

“peter parker.”

you stick your hand out. “nice to meet you, peter parker.”

he shakes it and he raises his eyebrows at you, as if waiting for an introduction on your end. “and you are…” he finally begins.

“that’s rhiannon.”

the voice jars you. you don’t dare look behind you, but you already know who it is. you feel large hands on your shoulders and it takes every ounce of pride and self worth inside of you not to let your body erupt into shivers. “she’s the heart of brooklyn.”

a scoff passes your lips and you tip your head back, and you’re not disappointed by what you see. you never are. “you’re always so dramatic,” you coo. your attention shifts back to peter, but your skin is buzzing where bucky touches you, and you have nearly ten months worth of time to catch up on with him. “it was nice meeting you, peter parker.”

subtlety is not your strong suit, and peter must gather that, because he scrambles to get his things and scurry off. you give a slight wave and make a mental note that you’d like to get to know him if he sticks around. “nice kid,” you say.

“don’t want to talk about him.”

you can’t help yourself now. a giddy squeal bursts from your lips and you turn and you fling yourself at him. you’re all arms and legs flailing, clutching to him, and he holds you just as tight. there’s that sort of husky, low laugh that leaves him, and you remember it from that night that you wanted to impress him by smoking a cigarette. “hey, rhi.”

“hi,” your voice is muffled in his neck. you don’t care who’s watching, you don’t care what they whisper— for the first time, you don’t care if they assume you’re going to go back to bucky’s room and fuck him stupid. you care that he’s here. that’s bigger than your pride.

“didn’t tell me you’d be comin’. had to hear from kate.”

“yeah, well...” you pull back and look up at him, hands resting on his shoulders. his find your hips and pull you in. “i wanted to surprise you. am i a happy surprise?”

bucky is the kind of person who thinks before he speaks, but also, you believe that he thinks before he emotes. there’s a beat before he’s licking his lips, nodding his head. “nah. it’s gonna be such a drag having my girl on the road with me.”

my girl.

you squint at him and push him away right in his chest, and he gapes, rubbing it and feigning hurt. “don’t pull that,” you point at him. “same rules as last summer, alright? we— we went over this.”

exasperated, bucky sighs, head lolling to the side. “yes ma’am.”

ten months ago bucky told you he was in love with you.

ten months ago bucky told you he’d follow you all over the world.

ten months ago you agreed that it was a horrible idea, and that your friendship was too vital, too real, too special to risk messing it up.

ten months later, you’re hoping you won’t regret this decision.

you can see the disappointment in his face. gently, you touch the side of his face and you smile a bit. “in another life.” those were the words you had said to him, all those nights ago.

bucky’s face breaks your heart over and over again. he gives you that gentle but sad look-- the look of a man who has what he wants right within arms reach, but knows that he cannot fully grasp. knows that he cannot fully keep.

“i’ll have you any way you want me,” is all he finally says. “‘s not summer without you.”

you’d made a promise to him that night. you had told him you weren’t going to fall in love with anyone in the summer of 1977.

but it is the summer of 1978. and this is the story of how you fall in love with bucky barnes.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 9

Fun fact: when I was like eight I got an ultrasound done on my chest because of some non-descript heart anomaly. Got to miss a day of school and everything. 

Anyway, on the day of cult girl’s twenty week anatomy scan, Hannibal has second thoughts about putting the baby up for adoption.

@wisesandwichshark

Trigger warnings: pregnancy and lactation, medical examination

It was a small victory, but a much-needed one.

You kept in close touch with Max and Archie over the next few, crucial weeks. Before you knew it, your first trimester ended. You tried your best to push all worries about your rapidly changing body aside, in favor of your studies. To a point, it worked. You cranked out a few research papers and kept up on your reading, but not as efficiently as you may have wanted. Your body was operating at 100% all the time and you felt like an overheated laptop with the fan running at top speed.

The morning of your twenty-week checkup arrived far quicker than you hoped. You were noticeably pregnant, having put on a good ten extra pounds to support your passenger.

Your phone alarm sounded, telling you to greet the day. You'd been in and out of an uncomfortable state of half-consciousness all night.

"Good morning, my goddess." Hannibal cooed in his admittedly very sexy morning voice. He turned on his side and faced you.

Seeing him with bedhead was definitely the best part of waking up. But the delight quickly faded when you tried to turn on your side and realized you couldn't. You plopped back onto your back, seriously considering if any amount of money was worth this.

"Don't patronize me." You pouted, folding your arms.

"Patronize you?" He chuckled, pulling you into him. "Now why on earth would I do that?"

He cupped your head in his hand and stroked your cheek. "The most divine woman in the world is carrying my baby."

Before you could say anything, he brought his lips to yours. His other hand ran down your body, tracing the outline of your firm, round belly.

"And what an honor-" He whispered, weaving his fingers through your hair. "To have Venus herself descend from Olympia to carry my child."

You didn't want to unpack what he was saying. All you knew was you liked it. Your aches seemed to melt away under his touch and your worries dissipated with every word.

"My breasts are so swollen and heavy." You complained. "And they ache so much."

"Is that so?" Hannibal smiled hungrily and propped himself up on his elbows above you. "Well, what is to be done about that, Mrs. Lecter?"

You unbuttoned your pajama shirt, revealing your significantly larger breasts. You blushed and instinctively covered yourself.

Hannibal chuckled and effortlessly pulled your hands off your chest. He lowered his face to where your neck meets your shoulder and took a deep breath in. A pair of warm, gentle hands cupped your breasts.

"You're starting to produce." He observed, a little smile creeping on his face.

Before you could really register what he meant by that, his thumb began to stimulate your swollen nipple. A small drop of milk leaked out, dampening his finger. All you could do was turn red and whimper in embarrassment.

He brought his finger to his lips and tasted it.

"It's a bit thin, but my goodness, it's sweet." He said, as nonchalantly as if he were sampling ice cream.

"Only the best for our baby." You said.

That caught him off guard in the best way. Whether you were playing along or feeling genuinely maternal, he didn't care. He wasn't going to pass up an opportunity to gratify his crippling desire to feel like a father.

"Fuck, [F/N]." He cursed, looking at your protruding belly with awe. Not awe, but worship.

He cleared his throat, chasing away any strong emotions he may have let reveal themselves. "Never mind. Let's get ready to go to the doctor."

You swung your legs over the bed. "What's wrong?"

"Absolutely nothing, my darling." Hannibal said, lying professionally. "Everything is wonderful."

You push yourself to your feet and follow him into the bathroom. "Hannibal, please."

He turned around and leaned against the sink. "It's nothing that concerns you, love. Don't worry about it."

You folded your arms. "You don’t need to be a doctoral candidate to recognize deflection."

"So you don't." Hannibal said. "Darling, please understand that I have your best interests at heart. Even if it is at the expense of my desires."

"I see what this is." You nodded. "You want to keep the baby, don't you?"

"I didn't know how much I wanted a child until now." He admitted.

"But you know the emotional and physical toll it'll take on me." You finished.

"I don't know, actually." He corrected, face contorting with frustration. "Thus the basis of my hesitation. There are so many facets of life that can be molded to one's liking, but parenting-"

"I get it." You sighed. "So many things could go wrong, or right, and either way it would throw me off track."

"If I could relieve you of all of the burden of parenting this child, allowing you to step away and finish your schooling unfettered with domestic duties, I would." He said. "But if we're being honest, it's not like you would let me."

"Ruth Bader Ginsburg studied law at Harvard while taking care of a baby." You offered. "And her sick husband."

"I have no doubts in my mind that it is possible, nor that you're capable, darling." He assured you. "But I would never forgive myself if I let you burn yourself out before you even get a chance to take off."

"Okay, look." You took a deep breath. "Let's see what the obstetrician says, assess the risks, weigh the pros and cons and talk to Max and Archie. We will figure this out."

You were counting on the assumption that going for your twenty-week checkup would scare you out of any desires to keep the baby. They often did. The more time you spent with an ultrasound wand in your vagina, the more you became convinced that you'd become implanted with an alien parasite determined to destroy you from the inside.

"Good morning, Dr. And Mrs. Lecter." The obstetrician greeted you as she always did. You hadn't bothered to correct her to save yourself an awkward conversation. "Here for our twenty-week ultrasound, are we?"

"No, I'm here for the taco truck in the parking lot." You said, half-jokingly. The other half was thinking about tacos. "I just thought I'd lay down on this surgical table for fun."

"Good to see you're still hanging on to your sense of humor, [F/N]." She smirked. "Should we take a look under the hood?"

You fought the overwhelming urge to smack your belly like a car salesmen and say "this bad boy can fit so many fetuses in it". But given that there was only one fetus, that would be inaccurate.

The doctor emptied a tube of extra-freezing gel onto your stomach and readied the ultrasound wand. "Have you been feeling any kicks, Mrs. Lecter?"

You shrugged. "Maybe? I wouldn't know what that would feel like so I don't know."

She smiled warmly. "Trust me, you'll know. But don't worry about it. First pregnancies tend to take their time. When you have your next children, it will happen much faster."

"I think you mean," Hannibal said, voice hardening. "If she decides to have more children. Let's not be presumptuous."

The doctor noticed her mistake. "My apologies, Mrs. Lecter. I didn't mean to assume."

You kept your eyes on Hannibal, too afraid to look at the screen as the doctor searched around for a clear image. 

“Oh my goodness, here it is!” She exclaimed with an ear-to-ear grin. 

It took you a minute to make out exactly what she was pointing to. It looked more like a fucked-up Rorschach test than anything resembling a person. You didn't want to say it out loud, but she sensed your confusion.

"This big round part is the head." She said, pointing to the opposite end of the screen. "There's its spine, and there are its little hands and feet."

It hit you all at once. There was a person growing inside of you. And it had limbs, bones and a brain. You finally had the answer to the question "how did something come from nothing". It was right there in front of you.

"Wow." You said, dumbfounded. "My body made that?"

"Amazing, isn't it?" The doctor smiled, clearly still as enamored with her job as she was on day one.

"And it made that without my brain even thinking about it." You continued, trying not to go into a ramble. "That's actually pretty insane."

"I told you that you're a goddess." Hannibal whispered into your ear. "My divine feminine."

"Would you like to know the sex?" She asked. 

“Sure.” You said, without really thinking about it. You looked back at Hannibal, who seemed pretty indifferent too. 

“Congratulations, you’re having a girl.” 

[nincompoopydoo]

DEBRIS AND MISERY

SAME OLD LOKI ; PART 6 / ?

PAIRING: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 3.3k (oops) SUMMARY: You find yourself venturing deeper into finding the Loki variant on the loose with the help of Mobius and Loki while maintaining your temper around the God of mischief and fighting with your own demons. A/N: Downtime apparently lasted for more than a week. I had absolutely no motivation to write but I eventually came around. There’s alot going on in this. Please tell me what you think, what you love, hate and look forward to. Thank you so much for showing so much love to d&m. gif from this gifset by @sersi WARNINGS: Swearing. Imagery relating to death (i think?). You and Loki’s relationship fluctuating like the goddamn economy. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERPOST ; MASTERLIST

Blue. Your flight suit is blue.

Your eyes sting with worry, ticking to a pair of hands buckling the straps that lay across your chest. A man secures it tightly, forcing your back against the cockpit chair. Your gaze drifts to the concentric steel rings of yellow, red, and white that stretch overhead and around you—being suspended within a 3-axis gimbal sends another churning sensation within your abdomen.

You hear a voice. It courses through the room and vibrates within your ears like fluttering echoes in a tunnel. It’s a man. He calls out your name from below.

“You ready?”

In your periphery, you see him, tall with slicked-back hair, standing with other men that adorn similar flight suits of blue. You nod, inhaling deeply as your hands reach for the controls. Suddenly, a metallic clang echoes through the room and the machine whirrs to life. The rings begin spinning in tandem, tossing your body in all directions. Your grip tightens around the controls, clicking with every push and pull as you struggle to analyze the spin. But, the machine spins faster.

Faster and faster and faster.

The machine continues to whirr. Your hands are still shifting the controls.

Faster and faster and faster.

Your eyes begin to droop, nausea taking hold of your body.

Faster and faster and faster.

You only hear your breaths; every inhale and exhale—they're loud.

Faster and faster and faster.

Too fast.

Stop.

...

Click. Click. Click.

Footsteps. Not the clicks of the controls. You hear them clicking against tile floors from afar. From darkness, your eyes meet the color brown, shiny and polished—it’s wooden. The sound of the vast building’s acoustics hum in tune with the occasional chatter and echoing thump. You recognize the ambiance and it comforts your hasty thoughts as your brain tries to wreck itself in comprehending your current surroundings.

It’s one of those dreams again. The ones that kept you awake at night since the Sakaar incident, as if reliving the memories of another life. It isn’t yours but the realism to it makes it so complex that your brain cannot even comprehend the experiences during these dreams that occur.

To see, touch, hear, smell, and taste. Do dreams exceed the limit of disconnection and logic? Are dreams to be so immersive that it feels more like a memory, an echo of the past?

Through the turmoil of parsing between what’s real and what’s not, a tap on your shoulder hauls you back to reality. You turn to see Mobius, looking ridiculously exhilarated. Behind him lingers an amused Loki, hands tugging into the pockets of his jacket. The analyst says your name with a tone of equal exuberance to his manner.

“I thought I’d find you here. Do you always sleep at the archives?”

You snort, seizing yourself up as you wipe your face with your palm in hopes of feeling slightly more awake and alive than you were before. “No. Sometimes, I sleep at my desk too.”

Exhausted and sarcastic. Typical you.

Mobius rounds the table to sit beside you, gesturing Loki to his previous spot before he got up and ran away from you without any explanation. He shoots you a smile, lips pressed together, almost hesitant to sit across from you. You watch him through narrowed eyes as you address him with folded arms. “And here you are, back here again.”

Loki cannot fight the growing grin upon his lips, knowing all too well that you're referring to how he led you into an unnecessary chase down the corridors of the TVA for the sake of his entertainment. Well, it was not unnecessary. Things were turning out to be a bore and with the sudden thought of a proposition to help with his case, it doesn’t mean he has to drag out the fun of irritating the hell out of everyone else.

And you are not a bore.

-

“Loki! Where the hell do you think you're going?!"

You’re outright screaming at him but his long legs only stride faster than yours could handle, slumber still clinging to your face like a thick, waxen mask. He’s so quick, weaving through tangerine hallways, skidding across the tiled floors.

He saunters down the hall with quick feet but doesn’t sprint, clever enough not to draw any attention.

He ought to answer you. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he flashes you a cheeky smile. He swears he saw flames burning in your eyes for a moment.

As you wind another corner, you already see him making one last quick dart through the elevator doors that slide open as it dings unceremoniously. Through your wide-eyed gaze, you signal him with eyes that carry a warning.

“Don’t you dare close that fucking door.” you snarl, voice booming from down the hallway and so does the clicking of the heels of your Oxford shoes as you march towards him like you’re on the hunt for prey.

Loki jams his finger onto the button to close the doors, unable to wipe off his grin. “Don’t you trust me?” is all he says to you, sending you a wink through the closing gap of the elevator doors as he raises his palm to wave you farewell.

-

You decided Loki wasn’t worth the time he has already taken from your assigned paperwork. So, you returned to your desk with a trace of bitterness in your tongue while attempting to suppress the regret for actually feeling sorry for Loki. Only because you know how it is like to be alone.

That’s the thing about Loki. He gets inside your head, makes you think that for once, he may be worth not pruning. He makes you think he is capable of change, capable of compassion. He makes you think he cares from the way he looks at you with those eyes that flicker the spark of hope in you. This Loki is the same old Loki.

Well, maybe the one in Sakaar had a good chance of earning your trust. But that’s gone now.

You shift in your seat, elbows now leaning against the edge of the table. “And to answer your question, no. I do not trust you. And I never will.”

Famous last words of the variant turned analyst.

Nobody trusts you either.

Except for the grey-haired analyst with the obsession for jet skis and you never understood why. Maybe, it’s because you’re the only one who is willing to put up with his ramblings.

Mobius eyes you and Loki’s interaction as the two of you seem to fall into the rhythm of making things even more complex than it appears. It's all part of his grand plan. Mobius knows you well enough to know you are possibly enjoying Loki's company no matter how much he irritates you. And Loki, it's clear how he admires you and how you constantly surprise him every time he crosses paths with you.

“What would I ever do without your trust?” the God sneers, each articulation of every word wrapped in mockery paired with dramatically placing his hand to his heart. Your eye twitches, the spitfire of your personality ready to fire back with a probable nasty insult. Yet, Mobius places his hand on your shoulder, while the other outstretched towards Loki as if trying to keep the two of you apart.

“Okay, okay. No need to get all riled up now. We only just had a breakthrough in the case, and I’m not letting you kill each other just yet.”

Your anger seems to immediately wash away, replaced by curiosity. You blink at your colleague. “Breakthrough?”

“Yes, and it was surprisingly Loki’s theory. Now—”

“Why do I smell...sulfur?”

You cut his sentence short as a strong whiff of a reeked scent began to descend upon you, billowing in the air. You inhale deeply, brows furrowing in concentration and confusion. An overpowering scent of a decaying body, faint but strong enough to seem out of the ordinary. The archives never smell rotten, always floor polish. Mobius and Loki share a look. Mobius is the one to speak up, attempting to distract you from your sudden strong sense of smell. “Sulfur? What, like when there’s a demonic manifestation? I mean, we are in the presence of Loki—”

“You went to Pompeii, didn’t you?”

In all of the time he has spent with Mobius who had a constant laid-back and confident nature to him, he has never seen him so red in the face. As the situation unfolds, he wonders why Mobius has made it a point to hide that information with so much eagerness which now has proved to be useless. You’re not only intelligent but also quick—only in terms of the mind rather than your physical capabilities.

You can hardly run, but your brain outshines everyone else he has met in the TVA.

Mobius is now waiting for the imminent chaos and mayhem you’re about to bring. You’re going to call him insane like every other time he has suggested an out-of-the-ordinary idea. Causing a scene is one of your talents. He has his hand on your shoulder again.

“You hate Pompeii, Mobius. Why the hell would bring him—Wait.” Your eyes are wide and blinking. “You went to Pompeii. Alone. I know that from the look on your faces. Which means no reset charge...No Nexus event.” You pause, pursing your lips. Then, you avert your gaze to Loki who watches you curiously. “Are you suggesting the variant is hiding in apocalypses?”

Mobius’ laugh comes off like a puff of air. He pats you on the back like a proud uncle. “Back on the game, Agent!”

Loki is slightly impressed. Only slightly.

“Okay, you two stay here. I’ll go get the files. Great work, you two.” Mobius gestures to the both of you with an outstretched index finger, grin so wide as he scurries off. Mobius loves a good case, especially when there’s a breakthrough. And with you finally familiarizing yourself with working together with Loki, everything is finally starting to look up.

The two of you end up finding each other’s gaze and for the first time, you smile at him. It’s small but genuine.

“You know you could have told me.”

“I would have, but you don’t trust me, remember?”

You hum, raising a brow. “And running away was supposed to gain my trust?”

Loki chuckles, eyes flicking to the table. “I never said anything about gaining your trust.”

Your smile grows wider, and Loki decides how he prefers you like this—relaxed and amused.

He oddly sees his mother in you. It’s the way you look at him. Like you know him.

Right, you have met him. Once.

“What was I like? The one you met at Sakaar.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his sudden question that hasn’t got to do with insinuating you.

“The same as you—barely tolerable,” you say tightly, heaving a sharp exhale. ”Just…a lot sadder.”

You hadn’t mentioned how he willingly helped escape your execution because a part of you still believes it all to be a lie. The TVA has your complete fidelity but ever since the Sakaar incident, your trust in the way the system works has been swayed. After years of being trapped in your mind, the question of whether your capabilities in logic have been damaged due to loneliness still begs. Judge Renslayer believes in your incompetence but you believe she hides a secret about the Time Keepers.

The three beings, creator of the TVA, personally convicted you as innocent, allowing you to maintain your job. Nothing of this makes sense.

Maybe Judge Renslayer lost all her faith in you, her second-best analyst because your Nexus event relates to Loki. The one variant that has been causing havoc to the Sacred Timeline. And this Loki, the one that seems to be very curious about your place in the TVA and the Time Keepers, is no different than the others.

You find yourself feeling an uncalled sense of sadness that dwells in your chest at the thought of leaving the only friendship you secretly wished to have maintained back at Sakaar. Before you let yourself fall into the abyss of melancholic wishful thinking, you swiftly direct the conversation elsewhere.

"I’m sorry Mobius referred to you as the devil,” you say coyly. “You really aren’t.”

Loki, who seems to catch on with the sarcastic tone of your voice, leans farther into his seat. “Really?”

A smirk returns to your face. “You're worse than the devil." He snorts, noticing the vague hint of crimson growing upon your cheeks and how your eyes seem to crinkle a little more than usual.

He finds himself swallowing under your stare, fiddling his fingers in an attempt to calm his sudden erratic heartbeat. A stutter under your now kind gaze—no one ever stares at him with a smile. "You are not the first to say that."

There’s another pause; Loki’s face is set with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. You feel a pang of guilt in your chest in remembrance of how you’re not the first to have treated him the way you did. He’s dangerous but, there’s no reason for animosity. Yet, it all boils down to the lives he has willingly taken. It doesn’t differentiate him from the rest of the TVA.

Mysterious variant.

The devil is always in the details.

Strangely, the work of the devil may prove to be useful in times of cul-de-sacs as an idea comes to mind. “I think...I think I know where you’re at right now.” Your voice is light, distracted by your now running thoughts. You’re on your feet, chair squeaking as you push it back. Your pen is in your grasp and you wave it in the air, reflecting the gears that turn at high speed within your brain.

Frankly, you’re not making any sense. Loki furrows his brows, slowly standing. “What do you mean? I’m right here—"

“No. The other one. The variant. And it has to do with gum.”

You’re still not making sense and it’s clear that in your eyes, he is invisible. You’re the only one in that frenzied mind of yours.

“What?”

You don’t answer him, feet quickly bringing you down the passageway along the vast rows of shelves that stretch along with the floor’s pristine balcony of white and the two of you are back to playing chase and run. Only this time, the roles are reversed.

-

Mission Haven Hills: not successful.

Really not successful. Far from successful.

You witnessed the doom of bombing the Sacred Timeline, firsthand. Employees scramble at the controls as you watch the screen that looms over the control room. What was once a single line, running along with time has now grown like a tree with fruits of chaos, caused by Nexus events scattered across time and places.

You wished the dust would settle and this was all simply a dream but you realize this was his plan all along.

Bomb the timeline. Distract the TVA.

There is one thing you know about Loki. He is moved by revenge and resentment.

As if you possess some sort of telepsychic powers, a part of you feels that danger itself is within the vicinity of the TVA. The variant is here, you just know it.

You hope Mobius is okay.

Scurrying down the winding hallways, past the hurried time hunters, and past the time theaters, you find yourself heading towards the golden doors of the Time Keepers’ chambers. In a time of uncertainty, your gut is your only source of guidance.

At the end of the hallway, you see bodies on the ground, nearly lifeless—time hunters, either unarmed or batons missing. You plucked one of the sizzling batons from the ground as you cautiously stepped around the laying bodies. You clutch it tightly to calm the blood rushing to your head, pounding along with your heartbeat as you take on the venture into the foyer of the grand chambers with secrets not wanting to be unveiled.

You round the corner, following the wooden panels for walls laid along the entrance. The glowing end of the baton within your grasp reflects off the black porcelain tiles beneath your careful feet. You hear voices, grunts, and shouting as if in combat.

Then, you see them. Loki in his variant jacket and a woman with locks of blonde and streaks of black. She adorns a headpiece of golden horns—one broken off.

Isn't Loki supposed to be at Haven Hills?

Recognizing the presence of another, the two turn to you, daggers still held to each other's throats. Loki eyes you with wide eyes, a silent plea whether to help or stand down, you’re unsure. Your gaze shifts to the woman once more who watches you with an equal resemblance to the other.

Then, it hits you. You recognize the dark emerald cloak she wears. You know exactly who she is. You just never thought it would be a she.

“You!” Your exclamation is bitter, and it’s directed towards the woman who seems to be strangely expectant of your remark as if she already knows who you are. She is L1190, a Loki variant. The one who slashed you with the TVA’s baton, scaring your left cheek. The one who hauled you through the time door and left you stranded in Sakaar for thousands of years.

You know exactly what she has done. She knows what she has done.

“You did this to me!” you gesture to the scar on your left cheek, eyes fixated solely on her, nearing the two with caution. You’re angry. Very angry. All pent-up rage begging to be set free.

Before Loki could even perceive the current situation he landed in between two women who very much want him dead, you’re already swinging the baton to her face with full force but she blocks it with her sword but slightly staggers in her step. You glare at her. She seems a little surprised. In an instant, you take a step back and go for another strike to her rib, but she blocks you again, sliding away and dodging your hit by a mere second. You growl out of frustration, seething through your teeth, and without hesitation, you strike again. The fight goes on—strike, block, strike, dodge. And with every blow, your intensity escalates, each a little harder than the one before. Loki stands there, watching, speechless and frozen.

You strike again, the baton crackling less than an inch away from her face but she dodges just in time, swinging her sword across your face. It grazes your cheek, now a gash of crimson on top of your scar, and with the sudden blow of searing pain, you lose your balance.

The variant spins into a kick that sweeps your legs out from under, knocking you hard onto the ground. The baton rolls out from your grip. Your hand flies to the gash, trickling with blood.

“Hey!”

The brawl comes to a halt. You seize yourself up from the ground, back and head aching, turning to see Judge Renslayer accompanied by two hunters, batons held up in defense position. You were about to reach for your own that was a stretch away when suddenly, you felt a hand grip you by the collar, hauling you to your knees. Her sword held to your neck.

“Come any closer and I’ll kill her.”

“Go for it.”

Your eyes are wide in shock, all anger towards the variant now turning into this churning feeling of betrayal that resides within your abdomen. Judge Renslayer doesn’t look at you, focus fixated on the two variants—it’s like you’re not even there.

The three start to charge towards you and you involuntarily shut your eyes. Then, as quick as a rattlesnake, Loki grabs the tempad hung at her waist and sends the three of you falling through the ground.

That’s the thing about Loki. He gets inside your head, makes you think that for once, he may be worth not pruning. Now, with your back landing hard on top of him, all you could think about is wanting to strangle him to death.

TAGLIST:

@lareinedususpense

@poubxlle

@mystoragehatesme

@the-maroon-panda

@kashasenpai

[alittlebitmaybe]

i’ll stay warm

for @sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo​!

Prompt: ice skating

Relationship: Geraskier

Rating: G (with very mild language and a tiny bit of blood)

Warnings: None

Other Tags: Fluff, Companionable Snark, Already Dating But Too Dumb To Notice, First Kiss

“Let me get this straight,” Geralt says.

Jaskier waves him on.

“You’re going to tie those—,” he gestures to the slim planks of iron on Jaskier’s kitchen table that have leather cords threaded through holes bored into either end, “—to your shoes, and you’re going to go down to the river and stand on it.”

Jaskier, unperturbed, says brightly, “Uh-huh!”

Read more on ao3 or below the cut!

“Let me get this straight,” Geralt says.

Jaskier waves him on.

“You’re going to tie those—,” he gestures to the slim planks of iron on Jaskier’s kitchen table that have leather cords threaded through holes bored into either end, “—to your shoes, and you’re going to go down to the river and stand on it.”

Jaskier, unperturbed, says brightly, “Uh-huh!”

Geralt says, “Why?”

“Because Priscilla asked me along, and it’s good fun, and you can do all sorts of loop-de-loops and swirlies and spinnies and whozits and, uh, whatzits. I dunno, Pris knows all the tricks, I never got the hang of it. But, Geralt, people have been doing this in Oxenfurt for years. It’s the only way fashionable and exciting persons such as I pass the winter these days, gliding as an angel over the ice, cheeks chapped fetchingly pink, you know, it’s all very attractive, one may say winsome—”

“That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.” Geralt crosses his arms over his chest as he leans back in the small chair and tucks his shoulders in. He takes up too much space in Jaskier’s quarters, and already he rues the day he agreed, in a fit of insanity, to pass the season in the city instead of trekking up to Kaer Morhen as usual. “You’re going to die.”

Jaskier hacks a laugh into his steaming mug and nearly spills tea all down his robed front.

“Nonsense!” he cries, once he has recovered himself. “We go every year once the freeze is hard enough, me and Pris and all my many other dazzling friends, which I absolutely have.”

“And if Priscilla told you it was fashionably good fun to walk yourself off a cliff…”

“I’d do it, obviously,” says Jaskier, not missing a beat. “Haven’t you ever had to cross a frozen river on your travels, Witcher? How’d you go about it then, if not on skates?”

Geralt levels him an incredulous look. “How would I get a horse across a frozen river?” he asks, and Jaskier frowns in thought as he takes another sip.

“I mean, you could just—,” he mimes pushing outward with one palm, “—give ‘er a good shove and see how far she gets.”

“Could give you a good shove. Bet you wouldn’t make it far.”

“I’ll have you know, I have the grace of a, a, er…elk? Are elk graceful?”

Geralt nods and says seriously, “Especially the newborns.”

“There you have it. Graceful as a tiny baby elk with those on my feet, I am.”

“Maybe you should wear them all the time.”

“What good would that…” he starts, and then comes, “Hey. Rude. Remind me why I wanted you here?”

Geralt grins and shrugs. His own mug is on the small table, and he sniffs the steam coming off of it. Floral. He takes a sip. Carefully does not spit it back out. Sets the mug back down farther away.

When he has successfully resisted the urge to spit on the floor to clear out his mouth and looks back up, Jaskier is still holding his own mug gently in the curl of his long fingers, and a lock of rumpled hair has fallen into his eyes. His robe hangs open at his collarbone, down the line of his chest. He wears a strange expression that lies between the exasperation Geralt expected and something startlingly softer.

“So you’ll come with us,” he states.

“Someone has to take your body back to your mother when you break your neck,” Geralt says.

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “You jest, but Mum would be thrilled to see you. Likes you better than me, I think. Her only son! But you’ll come, eh?”

Geralt ducks his head quickly to hide the smile creeping across his face, grabbing his boots and yanking at the laces before acquiescing, “Yeah, I’ll come.”

“There now,” Jaskier says, appeased, “that wasn’t so hard, was it.” He knocks back the dregs of his tea, then stands and pads to the sink, talking on. “You should’ve known I wouldn’t let you stay cooped up in here all winter. I’ll have to see if I can dig out my spare pair of skates, they’re older—animal bone, not iron—but they might be big enough for your witcher feet, and it really works just as well. Or maybe Pris knows someone…I even heard they’re renting the things out down at the river now. Industrious, isn’t it, the ways people come up with to make some coin?…”

Geralt half-listens as he ties neat knots, lost somewhere in the midst of mulling over what Jaskier has described, trying to give it the benefit of the doubt despite its obvious frivolity. Based on the day’s weather it will be a clear night with a brisk breeze, a bright moon. The wind chill will have them each bundled up in furs, and the tip of Jaskier’s nose will go pink as he rubs his gloved hands together for warmth and glances happily over at Geralt. The river ice will be torchlit and smooth as glass, and they’ll strap on their skates and step out onto it. They’ll have a good hold on each others arms, for balance, but then as they gain their footing they’ll find their fingers threaded together and neither will let go. Geralt will listen to the quickened beat of Jaskier’s heart as they pick up the pace, and eventually Jaskier will break their hold to skate backward and taunt Geralt with a small twirl that ends only a little unsteadily. Geralt will smirk and give chase, chuckling when Jaskier squawks and takes off at speed. It’s no use, of course, even with Geralt’s inexperience; Geralt will anticipate his movements, head him off, catch him by the wrist, by the shoulder, and they will collide chest to chest with a huff, the momentum from the chase sliding them a few more feet across the ice before they come to a halt. Their cold noses will almost be touching, there will be frost on the riverbank, there will be a distant owl hooting its nighttime song. Jaskier will quirk his lips and say, “Gotcha, Witcher,” and Geralt will lean in, feel his hot breath, press their lips together—

“Geralt,” Jaskier says, tapping him on the shoulder. A hand waves in front of his face. Geralt keeps his expression carefully neutral as he comes out of his sudden reverie, though he’s been caught red handed. “Are you meditating? We’ve got to be off to the market. Have you even been listening to me?”

“Never,” says Geralt, and Jaskier scoffs and whacks him gently upside the head.

*

The riverbank smells like dead fish.

Geralt knew this. He doesn’t know what he expected. He doesn’t know where the pine-scented idyllic winter wonderland from his earlier distraction even came from, because it couldn’t be farther from reality.

Besides the fish stink, his boots squish and stick unpleasantly in the muddy ground, and the place is teeming with cityfolk, the crowd so thick that you can’t see the opposite bank even despite the abundant torchlight.

“Are you sure it’s frozen solid enough for this?” Geralt asks sourly.

“Of course,” Jaskier replies.

Geralt’s frown deepens. “Couldn’t we go around the bend where there’s not so many people?”

“And where’s the fun in that?”

“Breathing room.”

“I asked about the fun, Geralt. Ah, there’s my girl!”

Priscilla pushes through a group of loitering teenagers and throws her arms around Jaskier’s neck, only her toes left on the mud. “Jask! I see you got your…friend to join us.”

She pauses before friend, eyeing him overtly, but Geralt doesn’t notice because one of the teenagers has been shoved, giggling, into him by another of the group. He steadies her, and does not react when she turns to apologize, catches his unnatural gaze, and stifles her laughter. He doesn’t see Jaskier watching him past Priscilla’s ear, the fond crinkling around his eyes when Geralt gently straightens her and returns her to her place in the circle, which subsequently puts a few feet between itself and the newly-noticed witcher.

“It was either this or die of boredom in the dark, wasn’t it, Geralt?” Jaskier says finally as he releases Priscilla.

“I chose the dark,” Geralt lies, and Jaskier sticks out his tongue.

“Well,” Priscilla says, straightening her skirts, “shall we?”

Geralt pulls both sets of skates from his deep cloak pockets and passes the iron pair to Jaskier, who hops around indelicately while securing them over his boots, rather than plop himself on the soft ground—which is, of course, what Geralt does to put on his own. Priscilla and Jaskier waste a few minutes on a tiff over whether it is polite or belittling for Jaskier to insist on helping her with her own skates whether she wants it or not, but eventually they are all ready to go.

Geralt is the first to the ice. He tests the toe of his bone skate against it, judging the friction of it, deciding if it is likely to hold his weight even with the evidence of the dozens of people currently gliding and spinning past him. It seems stable. Stepping out, he finds it surprisingly easy to get a feel for balance, the minute shifts of weight that send him one direction or the other. He swings himself wide and turns around to see Priscilla and Jaskier also stepping out onto the river, Jaskier clutching tightly to Priscilla’s sleeve, face white and eyes trained on his feet.

“It’s okay, darling, you’ve got this. You made such good progress last time, come on now,” Geralt can hear Priscilla murmuring under the loud chatter of nearby skaters.

When Jaskier sees Geralt watching them, he bodily removes Priscilla’s hands from his person and says, “Please, Pris, I’m a capable man.”

She bristles immediately, leaving him to stand on his own. “And I wasn’t a capable woman when I was putting on my skates?”

Jaskier ignores her to begin shuffling awkwardly across the ice, his knees locked straight.

“Jaskier?” Geralt says apprehensively.

“Doing peachy, thanks, it’ll come back to me, just need to recall how to, um—oh no—” Jaskier starts with a strained voice before he promptly stops, because he has begun to slide inexorably forward. Priscilla and Geralt both reach toward him, but they’re too late; Jaskier’s arms wheel wildly, he tilts on wobbly ankles, and he faceplants onto the ice.

“Ow,” squeaks the Jaskier-shaped lump.

*

“I think your nose is broken,” says Geralt. He dabs at the blood on Jaskier’s top lip with the edge of his own cloak. They are safely back on the bank, and Jaskier is, this time, sitting in the mud. “I guess you were right,” he goes on wryly. “You’re exactly as graceful as a baby elk.”

“I knew you were making fun of me,” Jaskier says thickly, due to the nose injury. “I also knew you’d be a natural. Bastard. I could never get the hang of this stupid bullshit.”

Geralt hums and wipes off the last of the blood. At least it’s clotted quickly. Maybe it’s not a break.

“You didn’t need to lie about your abilities. Who are you trying to impress?”

Jaskier snorts, then winces in pain. His fingers twist in his lap. “Oh, that’s funny.”

Now, Geralt is often joking, but he’s fairly certain that that wasn’t one. Did Jaskier also hit his head? He pushes back Jaskier’s fringe to check his forehead for signs of bruising and doesn’t find any. “Um,” he says, “what is?”

Priscilla skates past holding hands with a woman that Geralt thinks she met approximately three minutes ago. She calls, “All right, Jask?” and in reply, Jaskier gives her a bitter thumbs up. She winks and swoops away as quickly as she came.

“Because I was trying to impress you, obviously,” he answers, gazing after her, before he turns his eyes back to Geralt.

Geralt pauses. “Why?”

“Because I’m actually always trying to impress you. And everyone else, constantly, but…mostly you.”

“You don’t do a very good job of it,” he says, and regrets it when he hears how it sounds coming out of his mouth.

Jaskier smiles. It’s genuine, if a little wistful, like Geralt has amused but not surprised him. “I am well aware, thanks.”

He reaches for the words that will take that edge of resignation off Jaskier’s face, feeling like a fumbling fool. “That’s not what I meant. I meant you don’t need to try to impress me.”

“Yes, I know it doesn’t matter, but I can’t help—”

“No,” Geralt interrupts, “I mean you don’t need to try because you do.” He clears his throat. “Impress me.”

“Oh,” says Jaskier, and then nothing more. “That’s. Okay.”

“Yeah,” says Geralt. He has never been so exposed in his life. He thinks that’s probably a bad thing. “How’s your nose? We could try again, if you want.”

Jaskier looks around at the laughing crowds and shrugs. “Came all this way, got all bundled up. Might as well! I’m sticking with you this time, though.”

They find a spot at the farthest reach of the torchlight where the ice is less populated to step out. Geralt goes first, as before, and finds his footing even faster this time. He returns to Jaskier’s side after a moment of testing the reliability of his newfound skills, and presents his forearm as a handhold.  Jaskier does not protest about his capability this time and takes the offering. With a long preparatory exhale, he puts one foot and then the other onto the ice.

“I’ve got you,” Geralt says quietly.

Jaskier replies, “I know you do.”

“Can’t let more harm come to the money maker. I’ve gotten used to staying in inns.”

“Good gods,” says Jaskier, “I’ve broken him.”

They gradually move farther from the bank. “Loosen up,” Geralt tells him. “Don’t lock your knees. It’s like you’re trying to fall over.”

Jaskier grumbles but takes the advice, and eventually he gains the confidence to move a little faster, though not to stop hanging on to Geralt. They stay on the fringes where they are less likely to be run into by a distracted stranger, gliding along at pace, with Jaskier remarking on the who’s-who of Oxenfurt society who are also out tonight. Geralt recognizes some of the more powerful names, but mostly he lets Jaskier chatter on so he doesn’t think too hard about his feet.

Priscilla passes by and greets them a few more times with her new companion, who at one point proclaims, “You two are so cute together!” before Priscilla drags her back into the mob. Geralt glances over and thinks Jaskier might be blushing, but that might also be due to the swelling around his nose.

“Should ice your face,” says Geralt.

“Sure, later. Hey!” He swings around to face Geralt, stopping their progress. “Spin me!” At Geralt’s no doubt dubious expression, he pouts. “Geralt, I demand to be spun. It’ll be fun!”

“Fine,” Geralt sighs.

He takes Jaskier’s hand, and has a flash of his daydream. There’s too many people, and it does still smell like fish, but this isn’t too far off—

He collects himself, holds their joined hands over Jaskier’s head, and gives him a little push to start him spinning, not too quick, but Jaskier takes it upon himself to propel himself a little faster. Jaskier laughs and maintains his balance remarkably well, until he exclaims “Oops—dizzy—!” and topples directly into Geralt, succeeding in knocking them both down, Geralt on his own back, Jaskier flat on his chest.

Geralt, trapped between the frigid ice and Jaskier’s weight, looks up as Jaskier starts to laugh. The steam of his breath hits Geralt’s cheek, and his knitted hat has gone askew, and his nose is turning purple, and Geralt puts his hand around the back of Jaskier’s neck and pulls him down and kisses him.

Jaskier leans away. “What?” he asks, eyes wide, then continues, “oh, who cares,” and leans back down.

*

Later, with an ice pack pressed to Jaskier’s face and two more hot mugs at the kitchen table, Geralt watches Jaskier rummage through his cupboards. He comes back with two packets, one matching the floral tea from earlier and a different one. He hands the latter to Geralt.

“Black tea,” he says, “for you. Noticed you didn’t like my herbal stuff. I don’t either, to be honest, but I already spent the coin on it.”

“Thanks,” Geralt replies, oddly touched.

As Jaskier passes Geralt to take his seat, he leans down and pecks him on the cheek. Smiling faintly beneath the ice pack, he says, “You know, Witcher, I’m glad you’re here and not up in some weird lonely castle,” and Geralt finds that he is, too.

[whump-town]

The Paths to Revenge

Warnings: same old, same old... just some stabbing

Pairing: Hotch/Morgan

Summary: Doyle nonsense but make it Hotch/Morgan for the fun of it.

Clyde goes first.

“No one else can know,” JJ had whispered feverishly. She’d looked nearly insane, had come unattached in her months away from them and now pulled back into the whirling black hole of the mess he created by force, cruelly unnatural. “He will kill her. If he—” she’d choked on the words, tears starting to fall down her face. She had looked up at him with a wordless inquiry, sadness and disappointment laced in the fingers she wove into his. If this wouldn’t break him, what would? If he couldn’t cry now, for his best friend, would he ever cry again?

“You can’t tell Derek.”

It’s not their first secret. Hotch severely doubts it's their last.

The grace with which Derek Morgan seems to live has always bewildered Aaron. There is something about the way that Derek breathes gentleness, cupped hands so gentle his fingers could pry apart and life would still be captured in his hands. The fluttering of delicate butterfly wings twitching in his warm palms. Torn between desires, Aaron could never understand if he wished for those palms to close around his throat. To solidify him as something wretched, so undeserving of Derek’s endless, gentle love that he might stifle it once and for all. In another breath, he wishes he could curl himself up to be something so small and so delicate that Derek might hold him like that. Like something worth preserving, worth loving.

Those hands do not wrap around his throat, applying crushing pressure until Aaron is no more. They come to frame Aaron’s face, their warmth seeping into the bone chill of his body. Thumb stroking along a worry line stretched wide by his deep frown. “Tell me what you’re thinking,” Derek whispers, he’s desperate to be them again. For Aaron to settle back down and find him, to lean into his touch. Hotch’s weary but tense with panic and restlessness. Not sleeping. Hardly eating. Derek can’t keep watching this and he’s not sure how much longer Aaron can keep it up. “I can see it in your eyes, I can always tell.”

Before their relationship, Derek had been jealous of everything that Emily and Aaron had. At the time he hadn’t known it for what it was, his unrequited love making him bitter. He had just seen the way they looked at one another, the way they worked and he’d wanted to be that person for Aaron too. Emily’s intuition had lead her to find Aaron after Foyet’s attack, all based on nothing more than a feeling. While Derek had felt boiling rage and the inability to so much as look at Aaron while he suffered alone in that hospital bed. Derek had been jealous of how easily they spoke with one another, in a language no one else really understood. How Emily could comfort Hotch — she was allowed to touch him and hug him and press a kiss to his cheek or even drag him down several steps by the ear to reprimand him like a child. While even comforting gestures Derek attempted seemed to piss Hotch off.

But now Emily’s dead and Derek wishes she was here. So that he can hear Aaron laugh again. To argue loudly and pointless about Sean Connery vs Daniel Craig — how Aaron’s never cared about either but he gets all soft around the edges listening to Emily and Derek bicker more and more as the night goes on. To be happy and close.

And, maybe, Derek just misses his best friend too.

Both of them.

It starts with Clyde. National television doesn’t pick it up, it’s the sort of affair that’s quickly suffocated to prevent mass media from getting word. It reaks with the proper stench of death, Clyde Easter bound to a chair in his London flat. His own blood in a pool at his feet, head hung in the final submission of death. Severally tortured. The strain of an entire week of torture, hunger, and exhaustion taking its toll. Died of a heart attack. Aaron doesn’t need to be told what’s happening, he couldn’t even talk about it if he wanted to. He’s only given what he’s needed, a warning that he’s next and to watch out.

Aaron just prays Derek isn’t there when it happens. He’s allowed this one small grace.

“Ice cream,” Derek says more to the room than to Aaron, the idea had dawned on him so suddenly he’d spoken it out loud. Having spent another weekend inside, moping from their bed to the couch to the kitchen back to their bed, Derek is buzzing with energy he needs to do something with. Grief and this lie Aaron holds sucks him rather dry of the will to do anything. It seems the energy he’s supposed to have has gone to Derek, makes him worse. “Ice cream,” Derek repeats with a clap of his hand. “I’m going to get ice cream and you don’t have to come with me but I’d really like you to.”

Aaron looks up, hair a mess on the top of his head and shoulders sinking impossibly low in their joints as exhaustion sweeps over him. He’s incapable of so much as looking at Derek, having to see how hopeful and how loving he’s being looked at. All he’s ever wanted was to be loved and now he’s got it and he can’t face the vulnerability that cracks through his sternum every time Derek touches him. How every demonstration of love is such debilitating proof of how broken he is. How hopeless.

“I’ll bring you back a tub of Rocky Road.” Derek slides his jacket on, he’s not annoyed. No matter how convinced Hotch is, Derek isn’t even bothered. He knew he was going to get ice cream alone and, though he’d rather not do it alone, that’s okay.

Once his feet are shoved into his sneakers he comes back around the side of the couch and kisses the top of Hotch’s head, messing further with his hair. “I love you.”

Derek couldn’t remember what the last thing he said to Emily was. It kept him up at night trying to piece together every last second he had before she was taken from him before the nurses pulled them in opposite directions. Did she know he loved her? How glad he was that she was someone that not only he could trust but that Aaron had too? It’s the sort of thing that weighs down heavily on him. Now he can’t leave anyone without saying it.

Aaron has the opposite problem. Pulls away so that in case this happens again he won’t get hurt.

“I love you too,” he answers but hoarsely and to the sound of Derek walking away.

Jack is with Jessica. She takes Hotch’s emotional distance with grace, allows him this little period of reprieve while he tries to get back into the swing of things. He’s lost both of his best friends in a year’s span of time and is still really struggling to understand how to integrate himself fully into his relationship with Derek.

Life, it seems, has been throwing hard balls and it’s not getting any easier.

Derek kicks his shoes off at the door, more Aaron’s habit than his but he’s learning to uphold it. “I got rainbow sprinkles,” he calls out. “I know you have a reputation to uphold but I also know you love them—” Derek tosses the bags up onto the counter, smirking even in his slight confusion. He’d figured Aaron would have come looking for him once the front door opened. He’s vigilant about that sort of stuff. Even if he does know logically it’s just Derek. “Hey—” he’s greeted by the dark living room. It’s undeniably odd. “Where’d you—” Derek smirks when he sees Aaron’s back, even bowed and distressed it’s still undeniably him. “Aaron?”

A gun cocks at his head and Derek freezes, eyes never leaving Aaron’s. “Sit down.” Derek opens his mouth, going to argue or fight but Aaron looks away. Gaze sinking to the floor as his head rolls down, chin on his chest. “Sit down!” Derek listens, not out of fear of the gun just in his line of sight but because he can’t think past the sight of blood smeared across the side of Aaron’s face. The way his right eye is red with blood, his temple drooling angrily down his cheek. “I have to admit,” the dark of the room caves to what little light is in the house, and Derek tenses. Recognizes him immediately.

“You fucker—”

The gun is moved, away from his head and to Aaron’s bowed temple. “Sit. Down.”

Derek hadn’t even realized it, he’d just stood like he could do something in the face of a gun. Now he certainly can’t, being the cause of his own life’s end is one thing but to hurt Aaron is another. He sits back down, eases his way back to a sitting position with his hands on the table. He won’t do anything fast.

“You know what I want.” Ian Doyle stands in their house, smirking at the wet sound of Aaron’s blood dripping on the floor. “Tell me where she is.”

Derek opens his mouth to answer, a snippy — “she’s dead” — but Aaron looks up at him. The look they share is laced with mixed truths and the bold lie woven between the three men. His bloody eye, pupil blown wide staring back at Derek with all the answers he needs. Emily had died for them. She’d chased down her past and fought it all alone for them. Derek wondered if that meant she didn’t trust them, didn’t think they were capable of undertaking this threat with them. Looking at Aaron, watching his chest rise and fall in choking breathes, Derek wishes he couldn’t understand the solemn warrior trope. That he didn’t know the truth.

“She’s dead,” Derek mumbles but he’s not so sure about that anymore.

Ian smirks, unfooled. “See,” he clicks his tongue, “that’s what your friend here keeps telling me.” Ian shakes his head, taking the muzzle of the gun and grazing it across Hotch’s head. Trailing it through his hair. “I remain unconvinced.”

Aaron looks hopelessly up at Derek, a tear sliding down through the blood on his cheek. Caught on his eyelash, trailing over the duct tape on his mouth.

The knife comes out of nowhere. Slammed down into Aaron’s thigh with no warning. The duct tape obstructs his breathing, leaves Aaron gasping, struggling to breathe. He groans, sucking in air through his nose but it’s not enough. Aaron’s eyelids flutter, his head tilted back as he trembles. Face drained of color, his breathing getting worse. More strained, shallow.

Derek jerks his head away, clenching his teeth when Doyle jerks the knife back out of the wound. Aaron makes an awful sound, pained and unconscious.

“Tell me!” Doyle slams his fist down on the table. Completely ignores Aaron’s noises, his pained cries as he wheezes around the ducktape. “Tell me or I’ll kill him.”

Derek shakes his head, “no, no—”

“It’s not that hard,” Doyle sneers, patience is gone. “Her for him, choose!”

Derek shakes his head again, his own tear falling down. “I don’t know,” he whispers. Derek starts to tremble, rage replacing hopelessness. Angered to the point of tears. “She’s dead! We buried her!”

Doyle shouts, “fine! You want to keep playing games?” Doyle raises the knife up between them, letting the blade punctuate the question. “You will always lose Agent Morgan. Always—”

“No!”

Aaron’s eyes fly back open, a scream muffled by the duct tape. “I’ll find her,” Doyle promises. “It doesn’t matter what you do.” Aaron’s head falls down to chest, eyes falling shut. “And when I find her, there’s nothing that you’ll be able to do to stop me.” Doyle reaches down, fingers slick with Aaron’s blood, and pulls the knife from Aaron’s chest. “Last chance,” Doyle whispers with a grin. He steps back, “last game, last question: me or Agent Hotchner?”

Derek doesn’t wait for Doyle to get out of sight, he moves immediately to the other side of the room. He steps behind the chair Hotch is tied to, seeing for the first time the ropes wrapped around his arms. The way he’s constrained to the chair, unable to move. “Aaron,” Derek lifts his head up, his fingers under Aaron’s chin. His skin is clammy, cold against Derek’s palm. “Aaron, hey! Look at me, keep your eyes open. Aaron?” His head is heavy, limp in Derek’s hold. “Aaron, please. Stay with me.”

He stops breathing in the ambulance, airway preserved by the tracheal tube bulged in his throat. His heart beats too quickly, pounding away in his ribcage. Derek feels like just yesterday he was living this exact horror movie, Emily’s cold hand unresponsive in his. Dark hair a crown on poignant contrast. Life held in the balance, raw existence. Again, Derek feels the pitter of a heartbeat against his fingertips. Again his breath is held as nurses pull him one way and his heart is torn from his chest.

What will JJ have to say this time?

Will the same tears shine in her eyes? The same trepidation? Their lie is bleeding out on a stretcher being pushed down a luminescent hallway. As pale as the death they created. Perhaps this is the price one pays when meddling with things beyond control. Things that are not to be messed with. The evil Derek’s mother forbade him from playing with. Worse than the handmade ouija board under his bed, death’s creator laying on his chest.

Lying dead in his arms.

Derek Morgan sits for six hours, entirely alone in the waiting room. Each breath could be the last he shares with Aaron and he won’t know for several more to come. They labor on, Aaron’s controlled by machines and Derek’s by the flood of emotions weighing him down. He can only control himself for so long, holding down the bitter failures of the last few days. His anger is intense, uncontrollable.

“You lied.” It’s the middle of the night, Garcia’s hair still pulled back in pigtails and JJ’s in a clip at the back of her head. The waiting room isn’t full of special agents, dressed to the nines ready for a fight. Derek sees only their family, leggings, and sweatpants, and he can’t take it.

“You lied,” Derek repeats to the floor. “She’s not dead and now Aaron—” his voice catches. Derek rubs his hands down his eyes, looks up at them unashamed of the tears falling down his face. Her fault. JJ and her stupid lie. “I’ll never forgive you. If he dies… If he dies because of this stupid shit, I’ll never forgive you.”

“Derek—”

“Not now.”

Sixty-two hours. Over two days of sitting and measuring machine regulated breathes. Three nights of sleeping in a chair, falling asleep to the sounds of machines and thin blankets pulled to his chin. Aaron twitches and each time Derek thinks he’s going to wake up but his pleas are meant with more silence.

It’s sitting. Waiting. Watching. The waiting room has become his third home, where he’s kicked to when Aaron’s getting another test or scan. He’s left with only the anxieties of the unknown. He spends hours just drumming his knee, head in his hands. That’s a long time to sit and think about all things you’ve said in the past.

They hunt him down, attempting to softly fill in the holes with medical jargon. Stammering and averting his gaze to the tiled floor under his feet. “Uhm,” he rubs at his eyes. “I--I don’t want to know.” He doesn’t care that the doctor looks stunned, entirely caught off guard. “Someone else,” he mumbles, head still ducked as he steps into the room. Leaving the doctor in the hall. “Tell someone else when they arrive.” He just can’t do it. He can’t hear all that medical bullshit and still have this blind hope that everything will turn out.

He grabs a chair from the ones lining the wall across from Hotch’s bed, pulling it right up to Hotch’s side and throwing himself into it unceremoniously. Derek looks everywhere but Hotch. He got a glance in and he knows what there is to see. Tape twisting Hotch’s lips around the tube down his throat. All pale skin, still hands, and machines. Derek huffs, shaking his head, and picks at his cuticles. They’ve all been through so much but Hotch…

They never really get a break, do they?

He wishes he could go back to when it was just the three of them. Hotch, Gideon, and himself against the world. When it was Hotch’s desk he kicked his feet up on, watching him eat his lunch or snack in a certain order. Thirty years old and still saving his dessert for after his sandwich and carrots. The only person Derek’s ever met that cared or noticed the apparent lack of yellow and green M&Ms compared to the other colors. Also, the only person Derek knows who sits and sorts them out. Putting them in a neat line and two of each color-- one M&M for each side of his mouth.

Derek’s eyes sting and he rubs them roughly, shaking his head and forcing himself to pull it together. He’s not going to cry over Hotch sharing those odd M&Ms with him. Not going to think about how close they used to be, how things have changed for the better and the worse. He’s not going to die, so there’s no need to think like that.

They’ll be fine.

Everything is fine.

Garcia finds Ian Doyle, he never left Virginia.

Emily’s already on a plane coming over.

Killing Clyde Easter was revenge. It had been personal. For creating Lauren Reynolds and then for taking her away. Hurting Aaron was just convenience. Doyle knew Clyde��s death would sting but it would be no reason to come home, no reason to bring Emily home. There would be nothing she could do about the affair by the time she got word of his death. Hurting Aaron, though. Hurting one of the people Emily had supposedly died to protect, would work like a charm. It would draw her out.

Ian Doyle hadn’t planned for Derek Morgan. Not fully. He knew Derek would arrive when he needed him to, with enough time to keep Agent Hotchner sparingly alive. To make sure Doyle made it clear he knew Emily Prentiss is alive, to stir the team. Pin them against one another. Even against their downed leader. Take out the strongest first -- and that’s where Doyle hadn’t really known them. Aaron is fearless, he’s stupidly brave, but he’s not stupid. He won’t be blinded by his feelings. What Doyle did was stifle their logic, he disabled the one person who would have allowed Doyle to escape. What Doyle did was piss off five agents tired of losing the people they love.

Aaron gets worse on his own.

Garcia stays home, someone needs to be there in case Hotch wakes up. It’s not hard to figure out why they’d want to leave her behind. She’s stronger at home, has what she needs. And Derek’s terrified something will happen.

Ian Doyle finds Declan, it’s all the same story. Confused children and manipulative adults. There are no bittersweet reunions -- not between biological father and son and not between Emily and the others. Doyle and Emily have set fire to the families they had. Held a lighter over the portrait and watched the color melt to grey and then to black. Piercing a hole in the heart.

The airstrip lights up in heavy gunfire.

Derek doesn’t fire a shot. He wishes he had, for his own selfish fire starving out. He doesn’t shoot for Aaron. This isn’t what he’d want. This mess that they’ve all made. Aaron’s morals are always getting in the way of things but as Derek lowers his gun he’s flooded with relief. His anger abating, exhaustion seeping in. Ian Doyle dies on the tarmac. Spread out on his back and choking on blood. It takes four minutes.

It doesn’t feel long enough.

Not after everything he’s taken.

“Derek?”

He can hear it in her voice.

“I think-- Oh God, I think something is wrong.”

Emily had died. Derek had watched the monitor run-flat.

She’s a ghost and Aaron’s dying. This time no matador’s cape will dance, shaking free the threat with deadly precision. No magician to pull up the curtain, to show them the trap door.

“How is he?” Emily asks

“Alive,” JJ mumbles. “They’re not sure for how long--” she shrugs and Reid makes a choked sound, blushing and wiping his face clean of the tears still dry on his cheek. JJ just glances at him. “He’s holding on, Morgan’s with him.” The dismissiveness in her tone is not a reflection of how she feels, truly. It’s just a protective measure to ensure she doesn’t break. If she stops for even a moment she will cry and she’s still trying to convince herself that this is going to work out.

Aaron can’t die now. He’s laced hesitation into Derek’s logic. Changed too many things about him -- taught him the magic of rainbow sprinkles and how to cut hair with nothing but kitchen scissors and the bathroom mirror. Derek’s learned the magic of loving his best friend. Hating the person he shares a bed with. Being unable to sleep without the heat of Aaron’s body close by, no more than a breath away.

With those gentle hands, meant to capture thrashing wild things, Derek Morgan cups Aaron’s face. “I can see what you’re thinking,” he whispers. The intubation machines are gone, one step forward. Aaron lays flat on his back, an oxygen mask over his face. Across his bare chest are machine leads, pads left stuck to his chest. His heart is giving out. “Don’t--” Derek shakes his head, clearing his throat. He uses the back of his hand to push away a tear. “Don’t leave me, Aaron. Not now.”

Every muscle in Aaron’s body is stiff with pain untouchable by the maxed-out morphine. Cold sweat streaks across his body, makes him shiver, and clench his teeth down when the small movements spike worse pain. The thin sheet across his hips does nothing. It feels colder than the rest of the room, not even the reassuring pressure of it seems to help. His muscles ache from the tension. From the rounds he’s lost against the crash cart.

If he could force his jaw open, unclench it from the pain, he’d beg Derek for a blanket. Something warm or comforting. For relief. Anything.

He wakes to movement. It takes him too long to realize it’s his body being moved. “Easy.” Aaron looks up, confused by the sight of Emily and Derek standing side-by-side. “Here--” They work together, moving his body slowly. They try not to hurt him but he feels lit up inside. A pyre in his chest set ablaze with a match. Agonizing. He closes his eyes tight, detached enough to lose focus of where their hands are on his body.

“Aaron?”

When he can open his eyes again, he’s looking up at the ceiling.

“Hey, there sleeping beauty.”

There are pillows under one of his sides, another tucked under his thigh.

“Don’t--” He’s not even aware he’s doing it, not until he’s looking at the hand Emily’s just smacked. “Are you an actual child? Stop touching everything.” She stands and he watches in amazement as she bends over him and fixes the oxygen canal under his nose. Her hand grazes his cheek and she’s real. She’s here. When she notices his confusion she smirks, “seeing a ghost, Hotch?”

“Emily.” Oh, Derek. Hotch looks over at him, a dopey smirk he’s not even aware of spreading across his face. When Derek sees it, he loses his tension. The sting of his reprimand, who still thinks it’s too soon for Emily’s dead jokes, is gone. “How do you feel?” he asks even though he’s not sure Hotch has managed to find his words. His answer is that smile, growing wider as Derek kisses his cheek.

Aaron closes his eyes the second he sees Derek freeing his hands, sighing contently before Derek can even lean over and cup his face in his hands. They’re warm from the coffee he went to get, familiar in all the safest ways. “I missed you,” Derek whispers. Derek kisses him again, on his smiling lips. Unbothered that Aaron’s too out of his mind to work his mouth, just hums back, turns further into Derek’s touch.

Recovery will not be fun. Aaron got his wish. His best friend and his boyfriend back and it hardly cost him a thing. They'll both smother him, taking turns bossing him around.

He's never been so relieved to hear them arguing this early in the morning.

[whiskehorange]

RZ Michael scenario where y/n is a nurse at Smith's. There's a lockdown & she's trapped in Michael's cell. Pls make it nsfw & hella fluffy. TY

Hell YEAH BABY. I got carried away im so sorry-

Michael

Today, of all days, why did it have to be the day that you traded your later lunch for an early lunch.

You had always managed to get the last lunch schedule; which happened to be close to two o’clock. At this point, you’d absolutely give anything to have the twelve o’clock lunch just once.

And that’s what you did. And hour or do before the the call for the twelve o’clock lunch sounded, you had asked the front nurse if there was an opening for at least one person at that lunch, or at least anyone willing to take her spot just for today in trade for the last lunch.

Flipping through the nurse charts, she picked out one file that was near the bottom.

“Joyce was moved for today down in corridor three for today, and we’ve been looking for someone to take her place for patient checkup today. For Myers. That’ll give you first call lunch.”

She pushed her glasses back up and looked at, awaiting a response.

You moved your head back slowly, a sigh of relief escaping your lips. You’d take it.

She handed you the key and went back to the routine click-clack of her keyboard after handing you the key to Myers cell.

Myers was a famous name around the lunch room and just about everywhere in the sanitarium, really. Most nurses commented on his chilling yet oddly attractive height, while other combatted them with hoe dangerous he was. One recalling how she was there when he snapped a guard’s leg for getting in his face.

Hey, all you had to do was check up on him, take his tray, and do a routine mattress inspection, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.

His inspection was in a few minutes, so it wouldn’t hurt to do it now so that you could head to the cafeteria early.

Jingling the door keys, you make it to Michael’s cell. Stepping inside, your stomach dropped, only for a moment, however.

That was normal for you. It’s that unexpected pit of fear that you’d get entering anyones cell, but it never lasted that long, knowing that you’d be out of there in a flash anyways and guards were at the end of each hallway.

“Hi Michael. I’m you’re nurse for today, Joyce was moved to another corridor just for today.”

You’re voice was cheery, something that a lot of your other regulars enjoyed and got you patients who respected and acted well. Michael, however, didn’t say anything.

You close the door behind you, setting the keys in your skirt pocket.

“This should only take a few minutes. Now if you could stand up for me and move to the side, that would be great, please?”

Michael, sat at his desk, didn’t move at first, but eventually stood up. He was much taller than you’d expected, he towered over your small form. He moved to the side as you walked over to his desk, taking the tray from breakfast.

You set it on the little shelf under his door window for you to take when you left. There wasn’t too much room to move, considering there was enough for a desk, the bed, him, and maybe a nurse. his walls were covered with what looked like paper-mâché masks. He himself had an orange one on. Either way, the masks took a little more space from the room to walk.

You smiled up at him, tilting your head slightly, “I like your mask. Orange is my favorite color.” Once again, there was no answer, but that was common with some patients.

Turning back around, you stand at the foot of his bed, “I’m now going to do a mattress check, then I’ll be out of your way.

Lifting up each corner and running your hands across the sides and tops of the mattress you found nothing, expect a small paintbrush tucked in between the wall and the bed. 

It wasn’t carved for a pointed end or anything like other patients would have, but it was mandatory that you should take it anyways. It could have been “hidden with the intent to harm someone or oneself.” But come on, it was a paintbrush, and Michael seems to actually use it for something else, he probably didn’t know it was there.

You felt eyes narrow in on you, the feeling was overwhelming. Almost scary.

You turned and held it out to Michael.

“I know I should take it, but I doubt you where going to use it. If you were you’d have it on you. Go on, this’ll be our little secret. I’d hate for you to not be able to make anymore masks.” You cheerfully offered

Michael’s hand slowly took the brush out of your hands and held it, remaining eye contact the entire time. 

“Thank you for being cooperative, Michael. Hopefully I can be your nurse again another-”

Your sentence was cut off by a loud ringing that echoed off of the empty halls. It was the lockdown alarm. Normally they tell the nurses when a routine drill is happening but you didn’t get one... which.. meant that there was... an actual emergency 

“Michael, if you could step back into the corner for me that would be amazing,” you said, but much more serious. The smile fading off of your face .

You slowly turned back to the door to open it before the automatic locks kicked in to not raise suspicion, but inside your heart was practically pounding at the door already.

You grabbed the door handle and pulled as hard as you could, expecting it to open for you. You were a nurse of course, you didn’t have to be locked in here.

The door didn’t budge.

It was locked. With you inside.

Stepping back, you bump into something firm. Gulping, you slowly turn to see Michael standing directly behind you.

You’d expect someone in this sort of place to think about how they’d kill you. Maybe he was going to use that brush and plunge it into your eye. But it was quite the contrary. 

Michael appreciated your kindness, you had a likable spunk to you that the rest of the nurses just didn’t have. Maybe because they were dealing with mentally insane people all day, but at least you were a nice light in this place. 

You looked to... innocent. For a place like this, at least. Micheal was still a man, after all. You looked very pleasing to his needs. 

“M...ichael?”

By the look in his eyes you could tell he was thinking of something. You didn’t know what, but it couldn’t be something good.

Michael took a small step forward, making you step back. The another, and another, until the top of your legs touched the edge of his desk.

He had never wanted or desired to do this to a nurse, or anyone since he had gotten here, but you looked so pleasing to him. Delicious isn’t the right word for someone as twisted as him, but he just knew that he wanted you and that he was going to have you. 

The guards would have all been down attending to another situation, so it was only you and Michael in the cell.

He reached down, moving a piece of your hair to the side of your worried face as another hand hiked up your skirt. The hand that had moved the hair was ready to quiet your screams, but instead you only blushed madly, looking to the side in embarrassment. 

Pulling your underwear off, he lifted you up onto the desk with ease to match his height. Tugging at the small belt on his pants, he shoved them off and out of the way.

Your mind raced as you thought of how wrong this was, hoe you should be screaming for help and fighting back, but instead you eagerly scooted to the edge of the table. Closer to him.

The gasp that escaped your lips as his length was pushed into you was a mix of pain and confusion. You had a small feeling he would be big, but not this big. You clenched your legs together in an attempt to get comfortable with him, but he pushed them back open. 

Your mouth was agape. Michael’s hand reach up and grabbed your face, pulling your face to his as another pulled you closer to him. Bringing you forward onto his entire length. The twitched of your eyelids and legs were enough for Michael to stay hard.

Leaning his forehead against yours, your face still in his hand, he began to thrust himself into you slowly, but picked up the pace the moment he could adjust to your small form.

Your body was limp for a moment, the only way to stay in this position was to wrap your arms around Michael neck, which you did. At this rate, there was no getting used to Michael’s length, but you couldn’t deny that this was better than anything you’ve ever had before.

The wailing of the alarm was loud enough to drown of your own moaning. With each hard thrust came an equally powerful moan. Michael gripped your hips with both hands as you set your back against the wall. There was nothing to hold onto but the desk itself that was leaving scratch marks on the painting brick.

Your legs quivered with need as his cock continued to ravage your insides for what seemed like hours. You had already came but there was no use in attempting to speak. It’s not like your overstimulated body would be capable of producing words.

One of Michael’s hands ripped open your blouse, gripping your breast as he pushed his head onto your neck. Your hand running through his hair as he did so.

He was close, very close. As tight as you were he wondered how he had lasted so long, but it wouldn’t be too much longer. The clapping of his skin against your sped up as he did everything to push himself over. 

You cried out his name as his final thrust buried himself deep inside you, spilling every last drop of his seed. His nails made cuts into your hips and ass while he firm grip left purple bruises.

As he pulled out you went limp against the wall, attempting to think about what to do next. The alarm had gone off about 30 seconds ago and the guards would be doing their rounds to make sure nobody else was causing trouble.

You stumbled off of the desk, pulling up your panties and up your skirt. Your legs were still shaking, you doubted you’d be able to walk in the heels you came in with.

Michael had already pulled up his pants and stood in front of the door so that nobody would see you as you bashfully buttoned up your blouse. Your hands were pretty shaky too, struggling to get the buttons in the correct slot. Michael bent down and buttoned the last three for you.

You head heavy footsteps approaching the end of the hallway as a guard could be heard lock checking each door. Panic spread throughout your body at you fixed your hair and wiped the tears off of your cheeks. Even attempting to control your shaking.

Michael brushed the hair out of your face once again and fixed himself, standing behind you as the guard looked through Michael’s cell window.

“What the- where you in here this whole time?”

You nodded. Michael’s hidden hand rested inside the top of your pants, making you blush madly once again.

“Did he touch you?”

You shook your head, “No, sir.”