#is this an au?? some roleplay in the bedroom?? who knows

[yutasbellybuttonpiercing]

Kinktober Day 04

Role Play: Sexual Roleplaying involves acting out various sex scenarios with a partner while one or both parties are in character.

Pairing: Na Jaemin x fem!reader

AU/Genre: smut, established relationship, non-idol!au, humor...?

Word Count: 1649 words

Warnings: oral and fingering (f receiving), role played cheating???, that poor imaginary bf gets kinda slandered tbh, Na Jaemin has a big dick, lowkey size kink, dirty talk, Reader is not good at comforting, please don't do this. For humorist purposes, it works in this story, but... sorry, I'm giggling as I'm typing this out. Just don't do this.

A/n: this is the absurdest thing I've ever written, and I actually screamed while writing it, but I wanted to try something new, so here it is. *forces a smile*

Taglist: @matchahyuck @seraphinealana @ker00 @allaboutthedongs @baehaechannie @iwannabreathetosetmefree @positionslab @jjenodream @kundann

One could call you many bad things, for example messy because don't clean your room all the time, or inefficient when instead of working, you tap away on your phone one hour before lunch at the office, or even unfashionable for buying that one coat last fall – ugh. But there's one thing people can't say about you, and that's you being a bad girlfriend.

You are the girlfriend of Na Jaemin who is basically the love of your life, as cliché as that might sound. You met in primary school, crushed on each other during middle school, fell in love in high school, and started dating right after. There's not a thing that he doesn't know about you, and there's not a thing that you don't know about him. You trust each other, are attached by the hip, and love each other unconditionally.

Which leads to one tiny problem. Sharing a housing and a heart, you can obviously tell if Jaemin's feeling down, and that inevitably affects you as well. This time, it's something rather big and serious, and you've struggled quite the while with how to deal with it.

Jaemin always wanted to become a doctor. Ever since the day you met, he told you about how exciting it must be to save people's lives on the daily, how it must feel to be a literal hero. You'd always agreed and supported him, even when he realized that being a doctor is much more than just saving lives and feeling great, or when finals came around and you had to help him study like crazy to keep his grades high enough for medical school.

The crushing realization had dawned on him for quite some time, hence he's always avoided that topic with his parents. He knew that they'd probably want him to take over their company once he's old enough, and would therefore not support his dream of being a doctor (and yes, you've had a few outbursts of anger because who the fuck wouldn't prefer a doctor as a son?!).

Jaemin had always dreaded that day, and when it finally came along, he wasn't surprised. But that didn't make him any less disappointed.

Fast forward half a year, and Jaemin's grown accustomed to the lifestyle that comes with working at his father's company, he seems happy even, bringing home fun stories to tell over dinner.

You still feel like there's something missing.

And that brings us back to why people could never call you a bad girlfriend.

"Honey, I'm home," it sounds from the hallway, announcing the arrival of your sweet boyfriend Jaemin. You grin as you hear him take off his shoes and socks before stepping into the living room. He calls out for you again, the soft smacking of his naked soles against the wooden floor coming closer to the bedroom door.

"Baby?"

"Doctor, finally," you sigh, placing the back of your hand on your forehead. You're laying down on your bed, but you've removed all of the pillows and blankets and put out a big towel instead. Besides that, you're also wearing a hospital gown, and you just hope that this works and Jaemin never tries to guess where you got it.

"What are you doing?" Jaemin asks in amusement.

"Doctor, I really, really need your help. You have to save me, please," you whine, proud of your performance as you raise your head to watch Jaemin step towards you.

You clear your throat, "um, I think you should wear your coat, don't you think? It's hanging over there," you point at the white fabric that dangles from the clothing hanger attached to your wardrobe.

Jaemin chuckles, but complies, putting the thing on before turning back to you. You gulp, and mentally scold his parents for not letting him look like this every day of his life. "What seems to be the problem, b- uhh Miss?"

You suppress a smile, then clear your throat once again to get back into your role. "Well, I've never told anyone this before, but I think there might be something wrong with me."

"Ah, don't worry. There is probably nothing wrong with you, but I can surely check."

"Please, it's urgent. I can't concentrate anymore... the problem is that I can't cum," you lie, giving him the most innocent eyes you can muster. Jaemin presses his lips together, assumingely to hide his amusement before he catches himself.

"I'm sure a pretty girl like you has a boyfriend to take care of that."

"Unfortunately, no," you lie again, lips quivering. "I really need your help, Doctor."

"If that's all, I'm sure I can help you out with your problem. Though, due to the fact that this condition is a highly unusual thing for me to treat, your insurance won't cover the costs," Jaemin says, putting on a fake concerned expression as he raises his eyebrows.

"Please, I'll do anything! Tell me what I can do."

"Well, why don't we trade this fairly, one orgasm for another. Does that sound like a deal to you, Miss?"

You nod your head quickly.

"Okay, I will begin my treatment, then. Tell me if anything hurts, alright?"

"Mhm, yes!" Excitement bubbles through your veins as Jaemin steps even closer, looking at you.

"You're going to have to undress for me, Miss, or else I can't start with my examination."

"Oh, of course," you chirp, quickly ripping the gown off your body to reveal your bare body to Jaemin's eyes, who sucks in a breath at the sight. He studies your form as if it's really his first time seeing it, and you get even more aroused at the sight.

"No boyfriend, huh? What a shame. Or could it be that you actually do have one, but he can't satisfy you? That must be it, right?" Jaemin says, finally laying a hand on the soft skin of your thigh. The look in his eyes tells you exactly where he wants this to go.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I lied. Yes, you are correct. He just can't make me cum," you nod, biting your lower lip between your teeth.

"I knew it. What a naughty girl you are, letting another man touch you just because you're so greedy for an orgasm," Jaemin speaks lowly, a smile forming on his face that he can't hold back.

"Yes, I'm so, so naughty," you whisper, breath hitching as his hands travel over your exposed thighs.

"Then why don't you spread your legs and let me get to work? What do you prefer, tongue or fingers?"

"Doctor!" You moan at his lewd words, spreading your thighs immediately, then quietly add, "both..."

"Both it is," Jaemin mumbles, creating eye contact with you as he leans down to lick a fat stripe over your folds. You shiver, moaning out loudly at the sensation.

"Shh," Jaemin hushes you, "don't want anyone else in my office hearing what's going on in here, now do we?"

"N-no, I'm sorry," you mewl as he starts sucking on your clit, one of his fingers prodding at your entrance before slowly slipping inside. Your eyes roll back, fingers digging into the towel beneath you. Unfortunately for this role play, Jaemin knows exactly how to touch you, meaning you're nearing your orgasm faster than you'd hoped.

"S-stop, Doctor!"

He does, pulling back to take in your already fucked out form. "What is it? Are you cumming already?"

"N- uh- no! N-no! I wanted to say that- uh, this isn't working and we, um, should try something else..." You're actually proud of yourself for that lie.

"I see," Jaemin grins knowingly, but sits up anyway. "What else would you like to try?"

"Um... maybe you could f-fuck me?"

"Oh, fuck you?" Jaemin says loudly, making you feel a little embarrassed in the best way possible.

"Y-yes... you see, my boyfriend has a, um, a really small dick, it just can't satisfy me. And looking at you, I bet that yours is really, really big," you confess, batting your lashes at him who just grins. He gets up and takes off his pants to reveal the bulge that has formed in his boxers.

"Is this what you had in mind?"

"Mhm, yes. Fuck, Doctor, you're so big. Doesn't it get in the way of your work sometimes?"

Jaemin can't hold back a snicker, "sometimes."

He climbs over you to sit in between your spread legs, stroking himself a few times. You can feel your arousal dripping from your hole to soak into the towel. Both you and Jaemin know, though, that prepping you with only one of his fingers was not really enough to get you ready for him, and that thought excites you even more.

"I don't know if I can take it, Doctor," you admit, spreading your legs a little further for him.

"Oh, I know you can," Jaemin mumbles, lining himself up with your hole. Excitement rushes over your body, and you clench around nothing but the very tip of him as he slowly pushes insides.

With a loud groan from your throat, your walls struggle to adjust. He stretches you out further and further, his thumb on your clit just fueling into your orgasm.

"Doctor, I'm-" is all you can bring out before you feel yourself clamming down on his cock repeatedly. Your cheeks burn with blush as you cum just from him pushing his incredible size inside, your agape mouth letting some drool escape.

"Atta girl," Jaemin praises, as all you can respond with is a chorus of curse words.

"T-thank you, Doctor, f-finally," you stutter, completely overwhelmed with feeling so full, even though you've taken him hundreds of times.

"You came so good," Jaemin coos, bringing a hand up to stroke a strand of hair out of your face, "I bet you can do it again."

© 2022 YUTASBELLYBUTTONPIERCING all rights reserved — please DO NOT translate, take, nor repost any of my works.

[jacevelaryonswife]

Valentine’s Day | Modern Headcanons 「AU」

pairing: Aegon Targaryen | Aemond Targaryen | Jacaerys Velaryon and Lucerys Velaryon x Reader

warnings: mentions of sex in some parts (not luke)

Valentine's Day is a true event in your relationship with Aegon. It's one of his favorite celebrations and he really strives to make it not just good, but memorable. Every year he plans something better than the last, and whenever you think he can't get any better, boom! He exceeds your expectations. In the first year of dating, he established a daring gift pattern when he decided to put a big red bow on his body and apply whipped cream to that place. After that, the level always increased among the mostly fun and sensual gifts. In that particular year Aegon had an interesting idea: alter egos. You will meet at night in a really fancy hotel from the perspective of two characters. The roleplay was an interesting addition to the traditional night at the hotel, but everything that happened next went way beyond what he'd planned. Your character was a dangerous girl, who teased him relentlessly under the table throughout dinner. He was fully hard and aroused before you two even went upstairs to the bedroom, before they even tested the edible toys and intimate oils he had bought for this occasion. Yet you still surprised him again when you took him to the hotel's public pool floor and took a dip outside of business hours. It was the first sex of many that night, and the thrill of being caught and possibly thrown out made it even better.

Aemond is classic yet modern. Think of the best places, the best gifts, the best experiences and the best sex. He is reserved, but copes remarkably well in a crowded place if that's to his liking. Usually you two take turns year after year choosing the planning for Valentine's Day, but if there's something he's good at it's surprising you with really good things and with a special meaning, and he may not admit it, but he loves receiving a gift loaded with stories that only the two of you know. He would trade a rolex for an album of your moments — after all, the son of a bitch have money, unlike you. But with you, Aemond doesn't pulp a thread. Jewelry, clothes, travel, he pampers you like a sugar daddy in his second decade of life. On that Valentine's Day in question, he takes you to the most exclusive restaurant in a city you didn't know, in addition to leaving you with beautiful lingerie and a sensual and exquisite note that could only be written by him. Yes, the place is amazing, the food is the best you've ever tasted, but nothing beats the urge you both feel to fuck each other right away. Aemond was good at sex, mostly enjoying taking his time with you, not that latter was any different on today's occasion, but especially on Valentine's Day he turns into a hunter, an animal utterly hungry to devour your body. He hungrily fucks you like a predator and you can only sag contentedly into the sheets.

Oh, how he loves Valentine's Day! Jace is a real dream most of the day. The dynamic between you two is that some spoilers would be dropped so that no surprises are compromised. He buys more than one gift and gives it to you gradually throughout your program. Your boyfriend might be classic as Aemond and take you to a fancy restaurant/hotel, or he might be a little Aegon and prefer something more boisterous and fun. In the end, the two of you had each other surprises for Valentine's Day and he always blushed at your heightened boldness. But how not to be more avid? He's so cute and hot at the same time, you just want to destroy him in bed. No matter what activity you do, Jace is a great romantic who will surprise you with a classic bed with red heart-shaped petals — so cute. That night he takes you to dinner at a super cool place, where the two of you exchange caresses under and over the table. He's a well-behaved boy, but he knows how to be a big flirt and tease you when he wants to. Of course you tease him back as well as you kiss his temple and below his ear, playing with the curls that fell over his shoulder. When you gave him that look, he knew it was going to be quite a night after he got home. And indeed it was, especially when you pushed him down on the bed and dominated him for a moment before you both rolled over and fucked sloppily. He always ends up sweaty at night while telling you he loves you, hugging you like a bear or laying on your breasts.

Valentine's Day with Luke is the cutest thing ever. It's the first year of your relationship and he would take you to a romantic pastry shop with orange lights and delicious sweets. It was the first time you both had gone out with such independence and it was like two lovebirds drinking milkshake from the same glass. You two exchange shy and soft kisses throughout the night, enjoying the pleasant and lovely time in each other's company. His cheeks were constantly flushed, especially when you made a few bold moves to place your hand on his leg — but quickly removed it. He presented you with a beautiful necklace and received really nice perfume. Like a good boy, Luke assured your dad that you'd be home promptly at 10PM — using Jace's car for the first time — but you weren't such a good girl that night and suggested leaving a few minutes early to stop somewhere. little movement, he didn't know about that last part, but he didn't expect that he would like the idea so much. You spent countless minutes kissing each other like two young people in love, to the point where you needed to collect yourself before introducing yourself to your father, but obviously it was worth it.

Yeah, aegon’s part is totally inspired by phil and claire clive and juliana from modern family, and yes I wanted to use a modern photo of ewan for this headcanon but LOOK THAT FACE, I would let this man do whatever he wanted with me. Jace and luke are my pretty and soft boys. Anyway, I hope u’all enjoyed besties.

for my faves: @madame-fear @damatheirin @syzrina @faces-ofvenus @valeska-fics @astrumark ✨

[rarepears]

shen twins au where shen yuan is peak lord and shen jiu is imperial tutor:

luo binghe still gets kicked into the abyss. luo binghe still ends up making himself into an S-class demonic emperor. if luo binghe wants to be an effective enough demon lord to impress his shizun, he'll need the best teacher.

shen jiu, freshly kidnapped: !!!???!?!?!?!

luo binghe, looking at the man who is famous for being as vicious as he is intelligent and beautiful: shizun??????????

the crown prince, who is Very Much like luo binghe and uh. missing his future empress tutor: shizun!!!!!!

Man, that crown prince works as an excellent foil to Luo Binghe. He's what Luo Binghe could have been if his parents didn't die.

Since Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan occasionally switch places, it would be hilarious that every time that Luo Binghe goes to kidnap Shen Yuan (for a romantic outing among other things), he ends up kidnapping a Shen Jiu who's pretending to be Shen Yuan.

And like, at some point or another, Luo Binghe already knows about Shen Qingqiu having a twin, but he still can't tell the two apart beyond their clothes (hah!) so... he thinks all his romantic gestures aren't working and he gets more and more overboard.

Naturally. Shen Jiu doesn't tell his brother about anything; Shen Yuan the oblivious idiot also doesn't pick up hints from his fellow peak lords about the courtship...

Shen Yuan's first real courtship gesture from Luo Binghe thus ends up with his peak getting surrounded by an army of demons, him taken "hostage" to save his disciples (who are watching with great amusement at this roleplaying "barbarian kidnaps beautiful princess" trope), and wondering if he's about to get turned into a human stick for Luo Binghe's latest wife acquisition's amusement as he's dumped into some lavish bedroom full of red candles and redressed into the flimsiest of flimsy blood red robes, not realizing that he's the one going through the process of being wife-acquired.

(Oh, if only Shen Yuan realized that Luo Binghe was merely copying the actions of the male love interest of the latest bestselling book that Shen Yuan beta-read for Airplane-bro because SURELY that's what Shen Qingqiu would enjoy if he's got his name listed on the book as editor!?)

[Follow #a shen twins au where shen yuan becomes the qing jing peak lord and shen jiu becomes an imperial tutor to the crown prince for more]

[the-ace-with-spades]

Things/headcanons about my firefighter!Bradley and still a naval aviator!Jake AU because I can't seem to stop... I'm sorry, guys...

- Jake has tried to talk Bradley into bringing his turnouts for a roleplay thing in their bedroom (b/c, let's be honest, the suspenders alone...) but Bradley insisted that the turnouts are still carcinogenic even if they're washed regularly. The furthest Jake managed to talk him was putting on his uniform, button-up and trousers, and his decorative helmet (one he has on his Firefighting Shelf at home)

- Jake, just like Mav, buys the firefighting calendars Bradley is featured in - just for obviously very different reasons. He takes one to deployment if it's longer than three months. His bunkmates make fun of him until he shows them the Mr August he's dating...

- the first time Jake was there to see Bradley after a bad day at work, he didn't know what to do. Bradley was just so quiet and unresponsive and didn't really want to tell Jake what happened. It had continued for another two days (Bradley was supposed to have four off) and Bradley's barely been sleeping at night so Jake drove down to his station under the pretext of doing groceries and asked the on-shift crew for help with dealing with it. In the end, they took a bath together and Jake let him cry it out before talking him into booking an appointment with his psychologist

- Jake also had to get used to Bradley's ever-present need to help people. Whenever they'd go out on dates, they'd inevitably run into someone who needed help - a lady that locked her car keys, a teen that couldn't turn on his car, lost tourists, there was an older lady that was struggling to mow the lawn once and Bradley just up and left him in the middle of the date to do that. By that point Jake was so used to it he just made them some cocktails and gossiped about sweaty, half-naked Bradley with her.

- They're on a flight to Texas to meet Jake's parents when some lady goes into labour and Jake hears, 'Do we have medical personnel on board with us?' and just sighs before telling Bradley, who's sitting there, looking at him with puppy eyes, 'Just go'. It takes longer than the flight itself and the airport medics are taking their time so Jake goes to pick up their baggage alone and his mama is waiting to pick them up and he shows up alone. She's all 'where's your bf?' b/c it seems like he ditched Jake and Jake is just done but also like fond and tells her 'Delivering a baby, I guess'.

- Bradley's whole crew calls him 'the real lieutenant' for years after they met, even when Jake got promoted. Even when Jake married him.

- Jake has also once brought half his squadron to Bradley's station's charity car wash - both because it's for charity and because he wanted to show off his boyfriend in a wet t-shirt *shrugs*

- Bradley volunteers for Pride every year and the first year he and Jake are together, he gets a permit from his chief that allows Jake to ride along with him in the passenger seat

- Jake used to think he could do Bradley's job easily (the same way Bradley'd've been a good aviator if he wished to be) but then they witness a car accident and Jake sees Bradley calling 911, doing triage, crowd and traffic control, and first aid at the same time while Jake just hands him things he asks for until the ffs and EMTs arrive

- the kid that just started working under Bradley (Nate) in the fic absolutely gets adopted by Bradley and (reluctantly) Jake. Jake complains for years that he was tricked into dating a single dad and Javy points out to him that the kid was clearly already Bradley's even the day they met for the first time so he shouldn't be so surprised

(I swear firefighter Bradley was supposed to be Buck-fied but instead I Bobby-fied him more than anything else...)

im putting this under the cut since some people my find this icky but yk...

- Since Bradley is trans in this au even of it's a teeny-tiny mention (he's now going to be trans every time I write him, I'll admit...) so depending how they decide to have kids, you can just imagine the heart attacks Bradley would give Jake when he continues to do all of the above while pregnant and not see a problem ('i'm fine, Jake, I'm just pregnant, I can still do everything on my own' said when he's barely able to get up from a chair on his own). He'd for sure be like that one headline, pregnant firefighter rescues car crash victim and goes into labour, or something along those lines

- Also, for baby shower/gender reveal Bradley insists he won't show up unless everyone promises him that the gender reveal will be non-flammable b/c he's not setting California anymore on fire.

- They get cute photos of the baby/babies in their helmets (Bradley's decorative one and Jake's spare Hangman helmet)

(there'll be more headcanons to come, probably...)

[floralcyanide]

Kinktober Day Two

Roleplay - Austin Butler

oooo day two of kinktober is hereee. I enjoyed this request. I've always wanted to write something like this so please enjoy! also if you have a kinktober list of your own, please send it to me in an ask because I definitely would love to read them!! reblogs and likes are appreciated for this post. <3

pairing: Austin Butler x Reader (also Austin!Elvis if you wanna call it that)

warnings: smut, thigh riding, roleplay, nipple play, oral (m receiving, hinted)

word count: 863

masterlist || add yourself to the taglist HERE! || kinktober prompt list HERE!

“Hey there, pretty mama.”

You look up from your laptop where you’re working to see Austin dressed in the Elvis leather jumpsuit, much to your surprise. It’s been a year since he finished filming, and he hasn’t really bothered to wear or mess with the jumpsuit he got from the movie set. It looked good on him and hugged everything it needed to perfectly. Everything. 

“Aus, what are you doing?” you chuckle, your eyes traveling up his leather-clad body.

“Who’s Aus, baby?” Austin asks cluelessly, playing with a strand of your hair before gently tucking it behind your ear.

You playfully narrow your eyes at him, catching onto what he’s up to.

The two of you have discussed spicing things up in the bedroom for a while. Whether that includes using toys or even roleplaying, you both decided it’d be fun to switch up your sex life. What you haven’t discussed, however, is who or what you’d be roleplaying as and who would do it first. But now that Austin is in front of you dressed as Elvis and has that glint in his eyes, you know exactly what’s about to go down.

“No one, Elvis. But you’re distracting me from my work,” you say, turning your chair back to your laptop.

You aren’t gonna give in that easily. But, suddenly, Austin swivels your chair back around to face his direction. He’s gonna make you give in whether you like it or not.

“Work can be done later. Now,” Austin grabs you by your waist and tosses you over his shoulder, “It’s showtime, darlin’.”

You laugh against the leather and let him take you to the bedroom, curious as to how this is going to play out. Austin sits on the end of the bed and lets you roll off his shoulder and into his lap. You wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, looking at him to await further instruction. Austin rests his hands on your hips, moving you to the side a little, so your core is positioned directly on his leather-clad thigh. Today was a wise day to wear a skirt.

“Gonna give me a good show, sweetheart?” Austin smirks, rubbing circles into your hips with his thumbs.

“Yes, Elvis,” you stifle a laugh, but it’s sucked back into your lungs when Austin presses you into his thigh as he lifts it up to meet your clothed clit.

You hold back a whimper at the contact, biting your lip in anticipation as Austin’s eyes bore into yours. 

“Let’s get these off you, pretty thing,” Austin slides his hands up your thighs and underneath your skirt, hooking his fingers underneath your underwear before pulling them down your legs slowly.

You sit up slightly to let him pull them off completely. The coolness of the leather contrasting with your warmth is a little shocking. You glance up to see Austin looking at you again. You gulp under his intense stare but begin to move your hips at a slow pace, giving yourself time to adjust to the straightforward feeling of Austin’s thigh against you. The feeling of your clit rolling against the leather sends electricity through your body. Your hips begin to move fluidly as you grind on his thigh a little faster with each passing minute. You can feel Austin growing hard underneath your knee, and you push it against him a little to allow him some friction. His fingers move up your shirt and underneath your bra, massaging your breasts as he begins to grind on your knee. Replacing your knee with your hand, you try your best to palm him through the leather as you start outright riding his thigh. He pulls your shirt off and unclasps your bra, tossing the clothing to the floor. With one arm still around his shoulders, you pull him as close to you as possible. Austin latches onto your nipple, and you have to bite your lip to keep from squealing.

“I wanna hear you, baby. Give me a good show, be as loud as you want.”

Your fingers grip his hair as you circle your hips on his thigh, wetness polling on the leather. He bites lightly on your nipple, and warmth begins spreading in your lower stomach. 

“Fuck, do that again,” you whine, squeezing at his bulge as he moans against your breast.

Austin twists the bud between his teeth as your clit rolls on his thigh just right, and you repeat the action as he doesn’t let up on the sensitive skin. 

“Elvis, I’m gonna cum,” you moan, breathless as the knot comes undone in your stomach and your vision turns white.

Austin keeps guiding your hips to let you ride out your orgasm, lapping at both your overstimulated nipples. You hope you didn’t ruin the jumpsuit because you felt yourself gush.

“Damn, baby. That was hot,” he tucks hair behind your ear again before leaving a kiss on the shell of it.

You climb off his lap and onto the floor, gazing up at him with hazy eyes, “I’m not done giving you a show, Mr. Presley. Now, remove these leather pants of yours.”

taglist:

@cozacorner @onxlymnsn @anangelwhodidntfall @butlersluvbot @austinbutler17 @mamaspresley @mirandastuckinthe80s @bobbykennedyfan @sodonebruh @lizzymizzy-blogg @defnotreadingfanfics12 @izzvoid @homebodybirkin2003 @thatonemoviefan @kittenlittle24 @tubble-wubble @kaycinema @annamarie16 @adoreyouusugar @apparently-sunshine-deactivated @amiets2 @mrs-butler @mesbouquins @ari-nicole @austin-butlers-gf @feral4austinbutler @inlovewithchrisevans @shynovelist @mommy-maia @karamelcoveredolicity @thtguyovrthere @starry-night-20 @coldonexx @hangmanswhorey @shelbysbitchh @mavericksicybabe @coco-bitch @bobthefishiesworld @emmymaehereeeeee @myguiltypleasures21 @rainydayz101 @finelineskies @cryingabtab @kaitaesupremacy @ash-omalley @latenighttalking13 @tom-whore-dleston @presleylust @priestessofthelyre @niainteriano

[tsukuyomii45]

Modern AU ObiRin HCs

Modern ObiRin Headcanons:

-Obito would be a detective sergeant, and I think that the police officers or detectives he's leading would be the Akatsuki members, lol, while Rin would be a doctor! Yup; Sakura and Ino are one of her little first-year residents~ Given that Obito is an Uchiha, of course, his family owns the headquarters and the police academy (a tie-in to the Konoha Military Police Force) - although Obito made his way up to the top by himself. While Rin's intelligence and love for medicine got her to be a great doctor in Konoha Hospital (in a modern AU you can say it's the best hospital XD).

-They're technically the couple that are best friends who fell in love - the typical "marry your best friend" type of couple.

-They've been best friends since childhood - their first meeting was during elementary school and they have been stuck together ever since. They did everything together! They become a couple when they're older though - probably during college or after college, (Obito definitely fell in love with her during junior high however), and as they grew older - they start to know better and feelings only grew deeper and the next thing they did was overcome the fear of ruining their friendship with their romantic feelings for each other, or the fact that they'd be in different schools (Rin in medical school and Obito at the police academy), and took the step to become an official loving couple that supported each other's dreams and goals.

-They both know how to emotionally support each other during the hardest times, especially when they're facing hard cases (Rin's medical cases and Obito's crime investigations) from their work. They'd come home and easily know how to comfort one another - sometimes without words spoken.

-Obito and Rin would split cooking with each other. That's right, Obito definitely knows how to cook! They both think that the other's cooking is better, lol

-They're the type of couple that would watch medical dramas or crime dramas and crack jokes at the inaccuracies; which is probably one of their favorite non-intimate moment to have where they just sit down and relax by the TV together.

-(NSFW) They definitely roleplay together in the bedroom as their respective jobs - you know, Obito gets to "arrest" Rin under the charges of being "naughty" and that she needs to be punished, and Obito gets to be Rin's patient who is in need of "sexual healing~" (yup, think of that Marvin Gaye song).

-Their favorite places to go for a date is a quiet beach where it's just the two of them - because Rin loves collecting shells and enjoying the ocean sunsets; and they also love exploring nature - it's their own personal way of escaping the realities that they face in their work.

-Obito definitely proposed to her by that beach, too, during that golden sunset with the gentle sea breeze blowing by and it's just the two of them, with the love of her life down on one knee holding a beautiful seashell ring box.

-When they have a late shift, they always make sure to check in on each other every now and then because they'd miss each other - like a lot. Especially Obito; if he's at home while Rin is held up at the hospital, he gets pouty, and vice versa if Obito is held up at the precinct.

-They like massaging each other, especially after a long day at work. It's one of their ways of taking care of each other. Obito would massage Rin's feet while she rests back on the couch (he'd brush kisses on her ankle) and tell her how much he appreciates her and that she's amazing for working so hard, while Rin would massage Obito broad shoulders and back by having him lay down on the bed on his stomach - and she'd always massage him with her lingerie on~ and also brush kisses on his shoulders while she straddles him and whisper praises into his ear. It always ends up in the two of them being intimate, which is what they love.

-They even got all freaky in the shooting range, where Obito was showing Rin how to fire a gun, and then some sexual tension developed because he was standing behind her and holding her hand while the two of them were being as careful as they could, and after Rin landed a few good shots, she decided that this was a good time to get all touchy and nasty with each other, lol.

-Obito tends to visit Rin at her work whenever he can; and Rin gets teased by the nurses when her man stops by to visit her at her office in the hospital, and he's always holding a bouquet of flowers.

-Remember that Obito is by default, a very intimidating person who can scare criminals shitless during interrogations. He's not afraid to get his hands dirty in order to draw out the truth and answers that he needs. He's absolutely scary. Yet of course, only his favorite doctor gets to see his sweet and romantic side because they both make each other melt.

-Rin would always, always prepare a lovely bento for Obito to take with him to work before she gets ready for her day, because Obito loves her cooking and loves anything that makes him think of her in between dealing with stressful cases.

-Last but not least, they definitely, definitely, got freaky in each other's office - which is something Rin initiated because she's a kinky freak. They did it in Obito's office at the precinct, and they did it on her cot at her doctor's office in the hospital, because it's nice to have fun in the middle of work. And yes, they never get caught - although there were several occasions that almost did, hehe.

[sunsmitten]

@ahiiru​ said: "I think I have some books overdue, Mr Librarian," Xi says in a husky voice, leaning back against the desk so that the bulge in his khaki trousers is on display. "Whatever can I do to pay the fine?" (i'm sorry)

    Circle framed glasses are taken from the bridge of his nose and dutifully set to the side. Aleksy regards Xi with a calculated look, brow raised and a cocked hip. What Xi would do after hours will continue to amaze him, and what’s worse is Aleksy’s own willingness to comply. 

“You can start by getting a calendar.” He replies evenly, arms crossed. Aleksy plays the snooty librarian stereotype rather well. Too well. “Leave it somewhere that you’ll know you’ll see it, and mark down when you should have your books returned by. But in the meantime,” the brunette saunters forward, lavender gaze heavy with intent. “Take off your shirt.” 

[callivich]

😈🔥Kinktober Gallavich Prompts🔥😈

For October or you know…whenever 😉 Also includes some writing resources! NSFW & 18+ only

Sexy Gallavich Prompts 🔥 - Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 Tropes Prompts: Pornstars 🥵

@gallavichthings - Gallavich Kinktober Prompts 2021 Gallavich Kinktober Prompts 2022 Gallavich Kinktober Bingo Prompts 2023

Prompts for fics, headcanons/meta, art, or discussion. Interpret these however you like and feel free to use them as just a jumping off point, you don’t have to stick to the exact prompt or wording! Btw, if anything along these lines has been written, please do recommend them to me!

As I was working on this prompt set, I came across some resources that people might find useful (haven’t read everything on these so can’t vouch for them 100%) -> kink wiki (descriptions, inspiration, & writing resources) // words to include in sex scenes // big list of smut writing resources // writing smut resources // Halloween Kinktober Prompts // General Daily Kinktober Prompts // 3 Gallavich kink memes on livejournal (old/defunct) // Active Gallavich smut meme on dreamwidth

AU: Ian & Mickey work in a sex store. There’s a lot of unresolved sexual tension between them. It gets worse when one of them suggests they test out some new sex toys and report back with the results. Either Ian or Mickey suggests maybe they should do it together - just for research purposes. Or one accidentally interrupts the other testing out a sex toy.

Mickey & Ian visit a nude beach & either have lots of fun or one of them gets hit on and the other gets jealous.

There’s a person in the apartment across from Ian and Mickey’s who starts watching them have sex. At first they are pissed off, but turns out….they kind of like being watched.

Sure, they’re married and they’ve got rings to show this. But it doesn’t mean they don’t still enjoy leaving marks on one another.

During a heatwave, the AC breaks in their new apartment. Good thing their fridge has an ice-maker, so they have lots of ice to cool down with and maybe play with too….

Their parole jobs have them on different schedules, they miss each other and they start to send each other dick pics. Soon, it evolves into sexy videos & they find themselves competing for who can send the kinkiest video.

Ian hasn’t forgotten about the “gonna get you pregnant” line that Mickey said during sex. He decides he’s going to say it to Mickey, just to see what reaction he gets.

Unable to decide what to roleplay - they each write down a load of suggestions on pieces of paper to pick out of a hat. Including things like: boss/employee, security guard/thief (Mickey has the Old Army uniform), soldier/general, one night stand/blind date/Grindr hookup, Jedi/stormtrooper, EMT/patient (they have the ambulance!), new cellmates in prison, etc.

AU: Mickey signs up to work at a high end escort agency. Before he starts work, he has to go through a special induction with one of the agency’s best escorts - Ian. The induction includes them trying out different “services” together (positions or acts etc) in order to figure out what Mickey would like to offer to his clients. (Or it could be an interview rather than an induction and Mickey has to impress Ian.)

Ian crosses the border with Mickey - when they get a motel room, Mickey wants to get out of the dress as quickly as possible but Ian convinces him to keep it on just a bit longer.

While waiting for Ian outside their apartment building one evening, Mickey gets mistaken for a prostitute. He’s pissed off but it gives Ian a roleplay idea.

As soon as Ian sees the large, full length mirror at a yard sale, he knows it would be perfect for their new bedroom so that they can watch themselves have fun. Mickey isn’t sure at first but he quickly comes around to the idea.

Mickey has switched from boxers to boxer-briefs & Ian is more obsessed than usual with Mickey’s ass (spanking, body worship, praise…he just cannot get enough).

When Mickey called Ian “sugartits” it was because Ian’s chest was looking so damn good. & he’s going to show Ian exactly how hot it gets him.

AU: Mickey attends a kinky Halloween party at a sex club. Everyone is in costume and he hooks up with a mysterious guy who, afterwards, he can’t stop thinking about. Will they ever see each other again?

It’s on their wedding night - when they are feeling sentimental and complimenting each other - that they both discover they’ve got a praise kink.

They’ve got a brand new bed, new sheets, & a new headboard. Obviously, they need to break it in - that means the gag, the handcuffs, the blindfold, their box of toys. It’s gonna be a long night.

“I definitely love one.” Sometime after this moment, Mickey decides to show and tell Ian just how much he loves his cock.

Sometimes all Ian wants to do is watch Mickey with a sex toy and tell him what to do.

Ian & Mickey discuss their favourite fantasies & maybe even indulge in one or two.

Just because they’re married & living together, doesn’t mean they don’t still jerk off sometimes. Ian wants to know what Mickey’s thinking about when he does. Mickey decides to give Ian a show. (Or vice versa).

AU: Somehow, Ian and Mickey switch bodies. The first thing they do? Have sex and explore their new bodies.

It’s Mickey’s turn to pick what they do for date night. Ian expects to be taken to a dive bar but is surprised when Mickey says they’re staying in the apartment. Turns out Mickey has been practicing something - a special lap dance & striptease for Ian.

AU: Ian works at a tattoo shop where he does piercings. One day Mickey comes in, wanting a simple ear piercing. Ian is instantly attracted to him but figures he’ll never see him again. But Mickey comes back, wanting more piercings (maybe nipples?) & there is a lot of sexual tension between them as Ian does the piercings.

There is one thing Mickey likes about the West Side - it’s the sex shop that’s a few doors down from Whole Foods. & if Ian wants to spend money on fancy vegetables, then Mickey is going to spend money on fancy sex toys.

It’s Ian’s birthday & he’s got a simple request - they stay in their apartment over the weekend, Mickey has to be naked at all times, and the only place Mickey can sit is on Ian’s lap.

It’s Mickey’s birthday & his request is also simple - he wants Ian to surprise him with something kinky, something that maybe they haven’t done before or have only done rarely.

They’re each training a new employee for their security business. They’re gonna miss working together, so Ian suggests Mickey wears a plug as a little reminder of him, and makes sure to text him throughout the day asking him how it is.

It’s Halloween, so naturally they are discussing which fictional monster (vampire, werewolf, ghost, etc) would be the best to have sex with. & naturally, they disagree.

Post-wedding, every time one of the Gallagher siblings tell them to shut the fuck up, Mickey just gets louder, much to Ian’s amusement (& horniness).

The amazon package is definitely addressed to Ian Gallagher, but it’s definitely not the nice, new bedsheets they ordered. It’s some lacy lingerie. They should return it….but fuck it, they can’t be bothered. After they reorder the bedsheets they wanted, they wonder what they should do with the lingerie…..

Mickey gets off on choking so much that even Ian just casually touching his neck turns him on. Which would be fine, but they’re at a Gallagher family dinner.

It’s a stupid competition - who can last the longest (edging/endurance/orgasm control or denial). But they are both very competitive and want to win.

Ian decides Mickey needs a sexy punishment for not telling him he was getting out of jail in s10 - Mickey had promised Ian he would let him know so that Ian could pick him up. Mickey may just have been hoping that this would happen. ———

5 times they try a new kink and enjoy it + 1 time they try one that doesn’t do it for them.

5 times they try dirty talk - getting better and better at it each time + 1 time it’s really bad.

5 times Ian is dominant + 1 time Mickey is (or vice versa).

5 times they use handcuffs + 1 time they break a pair.

5 times Mickey is a bossy, power bottom + 1 time Ian is.

5 times they get off on their size difference (could be their heights or other differences in size….).

5 times they explore a different sense - sight, sound, smell, tase, and touch.

5 sex videos they make or 5 kinky pictures they take.

5 nonsexual things/objects that somehow they manage to make sexy/kinky.

5 times they get off on manhandling each other.

5 times they have shower sex + 1 time they have bath sex.

5 times Ian spanks Mickey + 1 time Mickey spanks Ian (or vice versa).

5 times they get messy + 1 time they clean each other up.

5 times they get off on nearly getting caught + 1 time they actually do get caught (and still get off).

5 ways they discover a kink + 1 they don’t have to discover because it’s so obvious.

[trellanyx]

Dark!Stolas AU

I started to send a prompt to @vizowrites​ after reading the latest installment of her Dark!Stolas AU, then realized I wanted to write it instead. lol This is meant to be a direct sequel to Where You Belong. Thanks for letting me play in the sandbox for a bit bb!

Fic Warnings: This is an AU where Blitzo does not want to have sex with Stolas, and only does so in order to have continued access to the grimoire. Stolas has no qualms about using this leverage to keep Blitzo in line, or ignoring Blitzo’s boundaries. Nothing sexual happens in this fic, but if you don’t like reading fics based off this premise, this isn’t for you. Like the title says, Stolas is not a good person here.

“And you,” Stolas said, his gaze flashing back to Striker with a near break-neck speed, flashing in a surge of barely contained power that still seemed to simmer just beneath the surface. “While I admire that terribly forceful nature of yours, I highly suggest that you remember just to whom you are speaking. And just to whom you owe your continued opportunities that keep your schedules oh so busy. Which reminds me, darling Blitzy….bring the book with you to our next meeting.”

“Blitzy! There you are, darling.”

Regrettably, Blitzo thought. He placed the book on its usual place on the nightstand and shucked off his coat. Stolas loved it when his favorite toy showed such ‘enthusiasm’, not noticing, or perhaps not caring, that Blitzo’s only motivation was to get the night over with as quickly as possible.

He didn’t know which option was worse.

“Look, can we skip the roleplay tonight? My back has been bitching at me all day.”

Stolas giggled. “Ah yes. Isn’t that post-coital ache just delightful? I know my best mornings always happen when I can’t walk straight.”

Blitzo rolled his eyes. In the beginning, he’d respond to comments like that with something along the lines of, “I hear a good ass whooping produces the same result”, but Stolas always interpreted those retorts as encouragement, and Blitzo eventually stopped bothering. He nodded to where Stolas was decadently sprawled along a twilight-violet chaise. “That the spot you’ve decided on?”

“As thrilling as it is to be the center of such undivided attention,” purred Stolas, “I’d actually prefer we take things slower tonight. It feels like ages since we’ve had the chance to simply…talk.” Stolas’s eyes gleamed scarlet, all four of them pinned directly on Blitzo. “Given both of our busy schedules, after all.”

Blitzo stiffened, feeling his stomach shrivel with a sudden chill of terror.

“Stolas--”

“Sit, please,” said the prince, waving a hand at a matching armchair Blitzo knew hadn’t been there a moment ago. “I’m as eager to receive your glorious cock as you are to give it to me, but another need must be satisfied first.”

The words tumbled out of Blitzo so quickly they nearly slurred together. “If this is about what happened at the office, I swear--”

“I said sit.”

Blitzo’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click. He power-walked to the chair, unwilling to risk finding out what Stolas might do if he thought Blitzo was taking too long. But Stolas only giggled again, as if seeing Blitzo so flustered was cute.

“Though since you bring it up, I would like to discuss what happened when I last tried to visit you. I fear there may be some…misunderstanding among your employees about just what our relationship is like, Blitzy.”

“We don’t have a relationship, Stolas,” snapped Blitzo. “We have an arrangement. I fuck you, you don’t fuck over my business. Cut and fucking dry.”

Stolas clucked his tongue. “Blitzy, we are lovers. You could at least try to put in a little romantic effort outside the bedroom.”

Blitzo bared his teeth. “I’m plenty romantic,” he said, in a moment of reckless defiance. “Just not with you.”

Stolas blinked, and Blitzo nearly bit through his own tongue. He did not, however, take back the words. He was engaged now, for fuck’s sake. And the memory of his fiancé almost spitting in the eyes of demon royalty was enough to give Blitzo just enough courage to wipe out his remaining fucks.

You wanna talk, bitch? Fine. Let’s talk.

Stolas tapped a claw against his thigh. “Are you now?” he asked, terribly soft. Blitzo opened his mouth to snarl back, but it hung open when Stolas suddenly beamed and said, “Why Blitzy, that’s wonderful!”

“….It is?”

“Of course!” trilled Stolas. “I’m so happy to hear there are other paramours in your life! Not surprised, of course, my dear little imp. Who could possibly resist such a beautiful and wickedly talented creature like yourself?” He laughed gaily. “I wondered why that fiery little fellow seemed so testy last we met. Jealousy, hm?” Stolas gave a sage little hoot. “I understand, Blitzy. Love makes fools of us all.”

Blitzo couldn’t help but laugh incredulously. “Striker, jealous of you? Listen bitch--”

“Blitzy, darling, it’s alright,” Stolas soothed. “I understand.”

Blitzo raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Do ya now?

“It’s not the first time I’ve been threatened over our little courtship,” said Stolas, still smiling. “At least he didn’t throw something at me! Poor Seymour,” he sighed. “Two centuries of care, gone in a blink and a crash. Fortunately my reflexes are better than my wife’s aim!”

“…Am I on drugs?” Blitzo wondered. “Is Verosika about to pop out with a horse head or somethin’? ‘Cause I’m not gonna lie, that’d actually be a pretty sweet upgrade for her.”

“Silly imp,” giggled Stolas. “Well! Now that that little bit of unpleasantness has been cleared up, I say we move on to more enjoyable activities. How about some refreshments before we start?”

Blitzo withheld a groan. Feeding each other was one of Stolas’s favorite forms of foreplay. He’d constantly nip at or suck on Blitzo’s fingers, to say nothing of how often he’d pretend to feed Blitzo a strawberry or something before replacing it with his mouth at the last second. But if it got Stolas to stop asking questions about his and Striker’s relationship, Blitzo was up for anything.

“Just no strawberries, okay? Last time they made me break out in hives.”

“Alas, tonight I’m simply thirsty.” Stolas pulled a silver bell from his robe and gave it a dainty ring. Then he winked at Blitzo and added, “Of course, that’s always my mood when you’re on my mind.”

A servant imp appeared almost instantaneously, carrying a tray with two shimmering glasses of wine.

“I really do feel much better now,” said Stolas, taking his glass.

“Good for you,” deadpanned Blitzo as the servant turned his way. “Now can we get on with--”

CRASH!

“FUCK!” Blitzo scrambled backward, tripping over the arm of the chair and falling onto the floor. His claws scratched the tile as he scooted backwards on his ass, away from the servant who was now a solid block of stone. Blitzo’s wineglass was shattered on the ground. Why…why did it look like the exact shade of blood?

Stolas took a long, indulgent sip of his own wine. “Wiggles, this is Blitzy. Blitzy, Wiggles.”

“Stolas, what the fuck?!”

“Wiggles hasn’t been with me as long as Seymour was,” Stolas continued, not needing to raise his voice to talk over Blitzo’s panicked yelling. “I daresay Wiggles isn’t even his name, but that’s neither here nor there.”

The prince unfolded his unnaturally long legs and walked around the statue of Wiggles. “He’s a good servant, as far as imps go. Obedient, polite, deferential…he knows his place in the world and is content with it. Like Seymour was.” Stolas placed a hand on the top of Wiggles’s stone head. “And like Seymour…”

Blitzo realized what was coming a split second too late. “DON’T--!”

Stolas lightly pushed, and Wiggles fell forward. There was a sick crack when the statue hit the ground, and Blitzo watched in horror as Wiggles’s now detached head lay face-first in the puddle of wine. Stolas waved his hand, and the rest of the body crumbled into dust and rubble.

“Gone in a blink and a crash,” finished Stolas.

There was no flirting or good-natured silliness to Stolas now. He stared down at Blitzo with cold disappointment. Blitzo barely dared to breathe, let alone move.

“Let’s not forget what our actual roles are, my precious little imp,” murmured Stolas. “You are exceedingly good at what you can do with your body, and because of that, I allow your little family venture to succeed. Every time you rendezvous with the world above, you pay your way with my magic. Your daughter sleeps under a roof built from my generosity. Your lover fucks you in a bed gifted by my mercy. I could rip everything away from you, Blitzo. Everything you’ve ever touched. I wouldn’t even have to leave this room.”

Stolas knelt down, ignoring the way Blitzo flinched back. “But I don’t do that, darling. Because I love you. You’ve brought excitement and joy back into my world the likes of which I haven’t felt since my daughter was born. Of all my collections and all of my toys, you are my favorite.”

A crimson glow slowly bled into existence until it outlined Stolas’s entire body. Blitzo couldn’t look away from him, and wasn’t entirely sure that Stolas wasn’t making that possible. The air seemed to constrict around him, making his temples pound and his nose bleed.

“What you do with your time is your own business, Blitzo. But when I call on you, full moon or not, I expect you to answer,” whispered Stolas. The use of Blitzo’s full name stung him like a brand. “When I ask for privacy, I expect to not be interrupted. Above all, I expect you to make sure your associates know their place around us – and mind it. Do you understand?”

Blitzo jerked his head in as much of a nod as he could manage.

“They may hiss and spit all they like, but they will stay out of our way. Else I will remove them myself, and I will make you watch. Do you understand?”

Another nod.

“Say it, Blitzy.”

“…I understand,” said Blitzo through gritted teeth. The moment he did, the air returned to normal, leaving Blitzo gasping for air like a drowning man. Stolas finished his wine, and looked out the balcony window behind Blitzo.

“Ah! And there’s the moon. What a beautiful sight – not as lovely as you, of course.” Stolas cupped Blitzo’s cheek, looking at him with a familiar expression of lust. “Come darling,” he purred. “The night is still young, after all.”

[whenimaunicorn]

Playing House Part 10

Ubbe x Reader, Ivar x Reader. Modern Vikings college AU

Words: 3481. Short for me but I think these words pack a punch...

Content Tags: predator kink, voyeurism, roleplayed fear, roleplayed punishment, overstimulation

Catch up:   1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

You had spent months wrapped up in delicious, heady anticipation, just wondering what these boys would be like in bed, or if you would ever even get there with either of them. Now it seems like the tables are turned; it’s Ivar and Ubbe that are obsessed, each of them tantalized and awakened in their own way to what you’ve brought into their lives: the opportunity to indulge every kinky fantasy and fucked-up thought they’ve ever had.

You say no to some things, of course. But your limits are so far from “normal” that you still manage to surprise and delight them with your amenability to trying just about anything. You’re here to serve. And the excitement of still not knowing what they’re going to want to do to your body next? That’s the most intoxicating feeling of all.

Classes start again for you and Ivar, meaning you probably have more important things to do than being the fuckdoll that keeps the apartment looking nice for her boys. But Ivar takes care of you here, too: a strict schedule is set, for study and play, so neither of you fall behind. That’s not to say that Ubbe doesn’t sometimes use you as a cockwarmer while you’re going through your flashcards, or that you don’t spend some evenings knotted up on the couch in comfortable bondage while you and Ivar finish your reading assignments. You find ways to get everyone’s competing needs met.

And Ubbe… Ubbe has discovered his own brand of kink.

“Hey y/n,” he says, catching your eye just as you’ve finished polishing up the kitchen. All he’s got to do is give you that look, and you know what’s about to happen. And he reads something in your eyes that signals you’re up for it, too. He winks. “Run.”

You launch yourself past him through the doorway of the kitchen. His hand almost catches at your hip, but you twist away from him just quickly enough, grinning at your triumph even though he probably only let you get by him so that he could enjoy the chase.

You get the couch between him and you, but realize that now you’re cornered. His teeth are bared like a savage as he follows each of your feints, left, right, left again. If you could get past him and down the hallway, you might be able to get to your room with enough time to lock him out.

You know, if you actually wanted to win.

You’re giggling; he’s growling. “When I catch you, y/n,” he threatens, “say goodbye to those panties.” You feint to the right, then rapidly to the left, but he doesn’t fall for it. “I’ll rip ‘em faster than Ivar can keep replacing them.”

You’ve stopped wearing anything other than skirts and dresses around the apartment. Between Ubbe’s constant roughhousing and Ivar’s penchant for sliding his hands up and up and up, you never want to have to pause the action long enough to shimmy out of anything so complicated as pants.

“You’re not getting away,” Ubbe informs you with a deep, predatory chuckle. Tiring of darting from side to side, he starts to climb directly over the couch at you.

That’s your chance, though. As soon as he’s off the ground you dart off to the left, ducking under his reaching arm and speeding over to the hallway that leads back to the bedrooms. You can hear his feet thudding behind you as he jumps down, but maybe you can make it . . .  passing Ivar’s empty room, you duck into your own and fling yourself at the door, adrenaline making you giddy as you try and swing it around and shut it right in Ubbe’s face.

His arms scoop around your waist before you pull it even a few inches. “Gotcha,” he gloats, then lifts your feet up off the floor and tosses you at your bed.

Ever since that scuffle after he made you answer Ivar’s call, you had both realized Ubbe loved to feel you fighting him just as much as you loved struggling against him. And so now, whenever Ivar’s not home, you fear his return only about equally as much as you worry that the neighbors might call the cops on all the bangs and thumps they have to be hearing whenever you and Ubbe get into it. Hopefully they can hear that you laugh just as much as you scream.

You try to bounce off the mattress as soon as he flings you onto it, but again Ubbe is too fast for you. His wide hand centers on your chest and pushes you right back down, then holds you there as he gets his other hand up your skirt. “I don’t know why you even bother to keep wearing these,” he says, the exertion thinning out his voice as he gets his fist around the side of your panties and starts dragging them down.

When you arch your back and grind your ass into the bed to try and make his job more difficult, he slaps the side of your thigh and then tries again twice as hard.

You’ve chosen lace today, which you slightly regret as you feel the friction of the scratchy material digging into your skin. And so you relent, just a little, shimmying along with his efforts and letting him work your panties all the way off without any more snags. “So much easier when you cooperate,” Ubbe notes.

“But where’s the fun in that?” You scoot up like you’re trying to escape again.

His palm slams you down, pushing you into the pillows piled up at the top of your neatly-made bed. Well, it was neatly made. Ubbe’s rumpling it pretty thoroughly now. This time his hand is bridging your collarbone, pressure teasing your neck. It’s enough to make you go completely still, and drop your consciousness into sub-mode as you savor the dominance of the gesture.

With your guard finally down, Ubbe gets himself tucked nice and tight between your legs. He keeps that solid pressure going on your chest, though, while working to open up his pants.

He makes this noise when he’s close to sinking into you, when you’re fighting like this. It’s a growl but it’s somehow gleeful; a predator who knows he’s inches from getting his jaws around your throat. “You gonna keep fighting?” His teeth graze against the side of your neck. “Or are you gonna make this easier on yourself?’

You choose easier, licking your palm quickly so that when Ubbe drops his cock out of his pants you’re right there to slather some lube on it before he starts working his way into you. Ubbe groans at the feeling of your hand, then spits on his own fingers to return the favor in a hurried swipe across your entrance.

No foreplay in this game. The game is the foreplay. Ubbe has taken to eating you out afterwards, long and slow and luscious. Right now, it’s all about the rush.

You cry out as his blunt head catches a little before finding the right angle to sink in deeper. You all did the responsible thing and got STD tests not too long ago, and now you’re free to bareback it as much as you please. It’s easy to believe Ubbe’s promise to be monogamous for as long as you’re doing it like this. With how often he throws you down and fucks you around here, there’s no way that he’d have anything left for anyone else.

Ubbe’s cock has that kind of width that you never just ‘get used to.’ You’ve gotten better at taking it, as fast and hard as he wants it at times like this, but that first inexorable slide always makes your eyes pop a little. It takes up all your concentration to relax your body and let him stretch you.

Which is probably why you just missed something really important.

Ubbe’s about twenty thrusts in before you can get a hold of yourself enough to stop squealing, to relax the clutching grip of your hands around his shoulders and cross your ankles over the back of his bouncing hips, to get comfortable and open your eyes.

You look over Ubbe’s shoulder to see Ivar leering at you from the door.

It finally happened. He finally caught you. Adrenaline seizes your muscles up tight, locking your legs around Ubbe’s back and making him moan deeper while your own vocal chords freeze.

Ivar’s head wiggles as he leans his shoulder against the doorframe. A single finger comes up to his mouth, in that universal gesture for silence. Then his eyes leave yours to trail over the rest of your body, the sprawl of your thighs bouncing under Ubbe’s heaving back.

He settles in a little deeper, so he doesn’t need to hold himself up with both crutches. His finger leaves his lips and he palms down at his own crotch instead.

Ivar wants to watch.

Tingles burst out across your body as you incorporate the pleasure of Ubbe’s deep dicking with the self-conscious awareness of being on display for your other lover. Ivar can’t see much besides your legs and your eyes so he must—oh fuck—must be in this just to watch the reactions that play across your face.

“Make some noise for me, baby” Ubbe moans against your neck. “You’re so quiet.”

He lifts his head far enough to look at your face, and your eyes snap to his quick, before he thinks you were looking at anything over his shoulder. Ivar is a dark blob in your peripheral vision as you focus on the face of the man who’s fucking you right now. Not the one that’s sure to fuck you twice as thoroughly as soon as this is over.

You make a little sound for Ubbe, somewhere between a squeal and a moan. It’s really all you can produce under this sense of looming doom that might be smiling sadistically from the doorway at you right now.

Ubbe frowns. “I could barely hear that,” he mocks, then grins and adjusts his hips, pulling your thigh up higher around his back. “Guess I gotta hit it a little deeper.”

“Unf,” you cry, unable to hold back as he, true to his word, tries his best to rearrange your guts. You throw your head back and just ride it out, giving him those full-throated groans you know he’s looking for. As far as you can tell, Ivar’s looking for them too. If this is happening, then you might as well go all out with it.

If Ivar wants to stay and watch, then you can’t be in that much trouble. Just pretend trouble. Which is definitely the good kind.

The weight of Ivar’s eyes means about as much as his hands on your body ever could. He’s not even doing anything, and yet, he is absolutely a third lover in this room. The heat of that gaze makes your skin prickle, makes your cunt tighten around Ubbe’s cock and sets you moaning, then screaming through your teeth as you feel your orgasm building hot and thick and all for Ivar and those eyes.

“Fuck,” Ubbe growls, the desperate edge to his voice showing he’s on his edge too, “you feel so good. Can never get enough.”

You can’t, either. Not of either one of them. Ubbe’s pace increases, coming up to that home stretch before he empties himself inside you. And given the delicious, mad pressure building between your thighs, you just might come right along with him.

Ubbe buries his face in the crook of your neck with a long, guttural noise as he hammers out his final, ecstatic thrusts. You’re so close to peaking, too. So—close—just—a—few—more—

Ubbe’s thrusts are slowing but you’ve still got everything you need. You latch wide, desperate eyes on Ivar’s smirking face, using that dirty feeling of knowing you’re being watched, that he’s watching, to push yourself over the edge.

The look in Ivar’s eyes is dark, so dark, as he reaches to the side and, with a shit-eating grin, pushes firmly against the bedroom door. It hits the stopper against the wall with a loud, distinctive sound.

Ubbe freezes, recognizing that someone must have just come in. You make an odd sobbing noise as your impending orgasm melts away.

“I think that is enough.”

Ubbe leans his forehead against your shoulder, exhaling long and hard. With a slow tilt of his hips, he grinds himself deeper into you, one last stubborn farewell to the pussy. He brings his mouth up close enough to whisper in your ear. “Uh oh. You finally got caught.” As he pulls away, you see a new kind of eagerness on his sweaty face.

He always did want to know what your punishment was going to be.

“I will take it from here, Ubbe.”

There are times that Ubbe Lothbrok can be stubborn; an alpha male with his own plan and need to assert himself upon a situation. Right after he’s blown his load is not one of those times. He pulls himself out of you in one long, slow swipe and tucks his softening cock right back into his pants. His eyes flick over the disheveled sprawl of your body underneath him, a prideful smile curling his lip, and then he straightens up and off your bed. “She’s all yours.”

Ivar struts forward, head waggling as his crutches carry him swiftly to the edge of the bed. You close your legs modestly, but his hand clamps down on your thigh, holding you open for him. “I told you never to let me catch you.” The look on his face is positively wicked.

All you can do is whimper, still flushed and half-crazed with your need to come.

“And yet, you left the door open. Like you wanted me to see.” He starts smacking at your inner thighs, quick, precise little swats, holding your legs spread when you twitch and try to protect yourself reflexively. “Stay. Open.”

You can only imagine what Ivar is seeing, your naked pussy swollen, needy, and leaking cum. It’s almost unbearable. His smacks turn to flicks of his strong fingers as he moves closer in toward your center, alternating sides and just watching you force yourself to keep your legs open.

Then comes the slap you had been anticipating, right on your clit. You cry out, surprised how much you like the feeling. Maybe it’s only because you were just on the brink, but after the sharp pain recedes a fresh rush of arousal suffuses you and you sob. “Ivar, please.”

He pauses. “Please, what?”

“Please let me come.”

He raises one heavy brow. “That’s all you can say? Unrepentant to the end, I see. Well then, dirty girl, if that’s what you want your punishment to be…” His hand covers your mound, thumb finding your needy clit. He rubs one single, glorious circle, then stops. His head swivels. “Ubbe. Did you think you get to watch? Out.”

* * *

You’re going to pass out. Mercy, please, there’s no way that you can handle another orgasm. Ivar’s got your muscles clenching, the sheets soaked, your legs trapped around his body and your pussy stuffed with the third vibrator he’s decided to try. He’s even got another one vibrating right against your asshole, just to give you ideas about other sins he might have in store for you. Pleasure runs like a raging river, unrelenting. Every time you try to catch your gasping breath, Ivar raises the flood.

“Come on, greedy girl,” Ivar coaxes, his voice husky after all the effort he’s spent working you over. “Surely you can’t quit before orgasm number eight.” He changes something down there and all you can do is wail like an animal as he somehow makes you feel more full than ever. And then his finger returns to your clit. He’s just about got this down to a science, after so many experimental trials here in your darkened bedroom. Fuck you with the toy, change the vibration every few minutes so your body can’t get used to it, tease your asshole and press down on your clit juuuuust so.

It’s starting to feel like he knows the angles your body likes better than you do. He’s turned your clitoris against you, co-opting that magic button into something he can press on his whim to make you explode in another spine-shaking climax. This time, you come so hard you see spots blooming in front of your vision.

Something must have changed in your voice as that last one crashed over you. This time, Ivar does not immediately start re-tuning the machine, gearing your body up to start the cycle all over again for number nine. Instead his hand falls steady and warm, covering your shuddering sex with a reassuring stillness as he leans in over you. His voice is low as he comes close enough for you to meet his drowning eyes in the dark. “Mercy?”

“Mercy.” You can barely say it. You barely have a voice left after all the ecstatic screams he’s forced across your throat.

Ivar makes a soothing sound, one that rings in your ears like the most beautiful, reassuring thing you’ve ever heard. He’s letting it end. You made it all the way through; you didn’t have to stop him. You lasted until he offered. That had been the goal your submissive soul clung to as he took your body through just about every pleasure it could handle. He reaches down to click off the vibrations. You sigh as he slips the last toy out of your body. “You did so good for me.”

He covers your pussy with his hand again. It feels immensely comforting, stillness and steady reassurance after all that thrusting and vibration. You let all the remaining tension drain out against his palm as you close your eyes and let yourself come slowly back to something approximating reality.

The next thing you’re aware of is Ivar coaxing your head up higher on the pillows. “Drink,” he says softly, putting a water bottle in your hands and guiding it up to your lips. “I wrung you out pretty good.”

The water is cool and extremely welcome. You want to make a joke about how little moisture you must have left in your body, after all that, but slaking your thirst is so much more important.

Rolling your blanket around you, Ivar lays down to cuddle beside your exhausted body after taking the water bottle away. You never would have guessed, before all this, what an avid snuggler Ivar Lothbrok is. He seems to crave your body against his own, after these intense sessions. He pulls you in tight against him. “We could take a shower, if you want,” he offers.

“I don’t think I can move.”

His chuckle is indulgent. “Fair enough.” He snuggles his cheek in a little closer. “Let me know if you need anything.”

So. He’s not fucking you today, either. Not that this even feels like the right time for your first time…it’s just something that’s been on your mind. Maybe it makes you old-fashioned, but it just feels like he hasn’t fully claimed you yet. Part of you kind of thought that once he caught you with Ubbe, that might have been what he was waiting for, to make you absolutely his. But this doesn’t feel like a turning point at all. Nothing he had said indicated that he did not like seeing you that way, or that he expected you to stop fucking Ubbe now. It’s always just been another game.

Which suits you just fine. You wonder if you will ever have a chance of getting bored in this apartment.

Your meandering thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Ivar’s phone, a quick, chirping notification.

He shifts lazily to check it when it chirps a second time. A short bark of a laugh rumbles out of him a moment later.

“What?”

Ivar rolls back to show you his screen. The text message is from Hvitserk, who you know to be another one of his brothers.

Be in town tomorrow

gonna crash in Sigurd’s room

“Looks like someone else wants in your bed,” Ivar croons at you.

You know that Hvitserk just doesn’t know that the apartment has acquired a new roommate, but you get a funny feeling deep inside your overstimulated body, anyway.

“Maybe I should tie you up naked tomorrow,” Ivar continues, voice low and teasing as he nips at your ear. “Leave you right here as a gift for him to find when he arrives. Haven’t seen him in a while, I’m sure I missed a birthday somewhere in there.” He grins at whatever he sees in your face. “If you need another lesson about what greedy girls get.” His finger taps you affectionately, right on the nose.

Next Chapter

Taglist is open:  @hanhanxx @xxdearlybeloved​@littledeadrottinghood @persephone-is-here-omg​ @rekdreams247​ @inforapound​ @creepshowzombae @tomarisela​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @walkxthexmoon​@funmadnessandbadassvikings @trashqueenbitch @justlovelifeblog​ @earl-aive​ @supernaturalvikingwhore @equalstrashflavoredtrash​ @that-was-not-supposed-to-happen​ @ceridwenofwales​ @grungyblonde​ @pokeasleepingsmaug​ @hvittysmutanon​ @honestsycrets​ @wuxiesalt @thorins-queen-of-erebor​ @writingfromasgard​ @tootie-fruity​ @lordsexmachine​ @uncomfortable-writers​ @sadbutatleastsassy @sweatstreatz01 @ritual-unions-gotme​ @likealostkiss​ @thehangedmanandthehoneybee @xxlilqueeniexx @thefightingdragon​ @xbergiex​

[underworldobsessed]

I Don’t Intend to Suffer Any Longer ll Extra Fic! Bo-Katan Week Day 7: Free Day

Title: I Don’t Intend to Suffer Any Longer Rating: T Ship: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze Characters: Bo-Katan Kryze, Satine Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Luke Skywalker Series: This Life is Mine (Bo-Katan Week 2021) Collection: Obitine Cave Fam Summary:  Bo-Katan knows that when she doesn't feel safe, she doesn't sleep. She so rarely feels safe, that even visiting her sister's family on Tatooine leaves her feeling unsafe and refusing to sleep. However, on this particular trip, that changes. ll Extra fic for Bo-Katan Week Day 7: Free Day Author’s note: So this is actually based on a roleplay universe a bunch of my friends and I created, and I got permission from them to create a little fanfiction universe based in it. I adore the AU we created and I'm so excited to bring this world into my writing. Also, I felt kinda bad that my last day of Bo-Katan week was smut, so here’s an extra fic for all of you Bo-Katan fans!! I had a blast with this week! Thank you all for sticking with me!

Tagging: @bokatanweek

Read here or under the cut

Bo-Katan got the ship ready to land as she lowered into the atmosphere of the most backwater planet she could think of; Tatooine. She never understood why both Satine and Obi-Wan chose this planet to settle down on, and raise their young adopted son; Luke. It kept them safe, which to her, was the most important thing.

Yet despite all of it, she never felt safe enough to get rest while she was there.

She still felt uncertain with Obi-Wan, still trying to get accustomed to working with a jedi like him. Her sister knew this well, which was while she questioned it, she never judged her sister for not  sleeping while she was on world. It was something she wished she could do, but sleep never came to her while she was there.

Wherever Bo was, if she didn’t feel safe, she wouldn’t sleep or her sleep would be plagued with nightmares. Even places she had been dozens of times, like the main Nite Owl base could cause her to become anxious and prevent her from sleeping. If they got a new member, or if they had recently had a close call. She became used to working on limited sleep, if she ever slept in general.

As she landed on the created landing platform, she picked up her helmet off the console. She would only hope her sister didn’t see that she had bags under her eyes from the stress she was under and sleepless nights. She hid a yawn as she walked down the ramp, only to get slammed into by a four year old, seeing her sister and her husband walking up towards her.

“Auntie Bo!” She smiled despite her exhaustion, lifting Luke up to set him on her hip. She pressed a kiss to his head. “Welcome home, Auntie Bo!”

Her heart warmed at the greeting, still unbelievable that she had a home that wasn’t a military base. Her sister and family actually had a place for her to stay, and wanted her there.

“Hello, Bo.” Satine walked up and wrapped her arms around Bo to try and hug her without crushing Luke. “How long are you going to be here this time?”

“I’ve got three days of leave before I have to return to base.”

“Awww,” Luke whined as Bo set him down. “Why can’t you stay longer, Auntie?”

“I’ve got people to save, kiddo.” She didn’t want him knowing just what she was doing when she wasn’t on world. At least not while he was this young. She knew her sister would frown at the consideration that she wanted to tell him of violence. Best not to let her know that she was planning on buying him a dagger for his birthday this year. She got one when she was this young from her parents, so it wouldn’t hurt to get him one as well.

He pouted but hurried into the cave where he lived. Obi-Wan smiled at Bo, clapping a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m glad to see you in one piece, Bo-Katan.” He smiled “Perhaps once Luke goes down for the night, you can tell us about what you’ve been doing and the progress on Mandalore.”

“Of course,” She promised as she followed them inside. On the table was already a full meal prepared. She was still not used to someone preparing a meal like this for her. She typically made herself something quick and easy, or just resorted to eating rations to get buy. A real home cooked meal like this was rare for her. Not that she was complaining necessarily, and she knew Satine had become a relatively good chef in the time since they were younger.

They all took their seats at the table, Luke making sure to sit next to Bo. She knew how much the kid missed her and she had to admit, she missed him too. It killed her to be off world more and more, finding less chances to come back and visit her family. At least for now, this was the way it was going to have to be.

“Is Korkie gonna come visit us anytime soon?” Luke asked, and Bo sighed. She looked over at Satine, who was pointedly not looking at her anymore, but she knew she was listening. Satine had still been keeping Korkie’s true identity a secret, but she always worried about the state of her son now that he had joined the Nite Owls in their fight to reclaim Mandalore.

“He wanted to join me this time, but he went on a supply run and won’t be back on base for another few days.”

“Oh…” Luke pouted as he took a bite of his food, before launching into a description of what he had been up to for so long since she had come to visit. The story was disjointed, but Bo could keep up fairly well. She listened to his story, smiling to herself as he went. She caught that he was making friends with some of the other kids, though always under the watchful eye of Satine when they went out. They had been to Mos Eisley a little bit more frequently, but lost what they did there in his rapid talking.

“Luke, you need to not talk with your mouth full,” Satine chided him, and at least he had the chance to look a little sheepish as he stopped talking briefly to eat a few bites.

“Sorry, Mamma.” He said, and Bo could see that same stunned face she made every time Luke called her that. She knew that Satine and Obi-Wan had told Luke the story of his birth parents, of Anakin and Padme and all they had accomplished. She had almost expected Luke to stop calling them mamma and papa after that, but the affection of them as his parents remained.

She knew anything different would tear Satine’s heart apart.

“Let the kid talk, Satine, I’m here so infrequently. I want to hear his stories.”

Luke beamed and launched into another story, this one about his recent love of reading some of his mamma’s old books. Bo had been bringing Satine some old Mandalorian children’s tales that Satine would find appropriate to read for Luke so he could learn. She knew there wasn’t much she could do for Obi-Wan’s past, but had found books that he would approve of for him to read to Luke as well.

They had been trying to get him to learn Basic and Mando’a, and possibly Huttese as well though neither were fluent in that.

But it was a connection to his father nonetheless.

As dinner wound down, they retired to a seating area to continue talking. Bo had taken up a seat on the couch with Luke and was playing with his starfighter toys, engaged in a playful fight as Satine sat comfortably on Obi-Wan’s lap as she watched her sister interact with Luke.

Paying attention to this caused her to notice just how Bo’s movements started to become sluggish. Her eyelids lowered as Bo let the starfighter drop to her side.

“Auntie?”

Bo’s eyes opened briefly, and she looked over at her nephew.

“I’m sorry, kiddo.” She ruffled his hair, and picked the toy up to continue playing with him once again.

As they played, and eventually just sat as Bo started to read one of the books she brought for him. She felt Luke grow heavy against her and she smiled, her eyelids lowering as well. Her arm wrapped around Luke’s shoulder and her head slowly fell to rest against the armrest of what she was sitting on. It wasn’t long before both of them started to fall asleep.

Satine looked over at the couch and gently nudged her husband to look at them.

“Obi, look.” Satine’s voice was soft to try and keep from waking Bo by mistake. “She’s actually sleeping.”

“Forgive me, darling, but I would assume Bo-Katan would sleep, it is quite late.”

“Obi, in the years my sister has come to visit us, how frequently would you say she came to sleep?” When silence greeted her, she continued. “When she doesn’t feel safe, Bo won’t sleep. She knows she has nightmares, and knows they’re more common when she doesn’t feel safe, so she won’t sleep. The fact that she’s willingly fallen asleep means she’s finally starting to feel safe while she’s here.”

Satine looked once again at Bo, who seemed so much younger now that she was asleep. The stress had melted away on her face. While she knew that they were twins, Bo had been graced with a younger face, so she always reminded Satine of when they were children and Bo would fall asleep next to her.

Finally, her sister felt safe enough in the same place as her where she would willingly sleep like this.

The thought brought tears to her eyes, and she felt her heart warm.

“Should we carry them to bed?” Obi-Wan finally spoke up once again “I don’t want them to get a crick in their necks.”

“Don’t worry about it, Obi.” Satine reassured him. “Bo used to be able to sleep pretty much anywhere once she was comfortable. Besides, I don’t think she will be able to fall asleep once again if we accidentally wake her. Let them sleep. Luke will be happy to sleep close to his aunt since Bo is so rarely here.”

“I’ll get them a blanket.” He said as he went to the spare bedroom that Bo never used. In the meantime, Satine got up and went to brush her sister’s hair out of her face.

“I love you, Bo’ika. I’m so happy to see you finally feeling comfortable here. This is your home too and we will keep you safe so you can always get a full night’s rest while you are here.”

[doorsclosingslowly]

They've Made of Our Bodies a Bleeding Stair

Jesper and Kaz try to retrieve Inej from Ketterdam without being recognized and murdered—and without Kaz getting ransomed back to Ravka as the the wayward Sun Summoner.

11k | Sun Summoner Kaz AU pt. 2 | Jesper/Kaz, Inej, past Kaz/Darkling content note: non-linear narrative, explicit sex, roleplay of past rape

“I want you to be him.”

“Of course,” Jesper replies. Then, articulately, once his brain’s caught up, “Uh. What?”

“The Darkling.” Kaz has turned his face away. He’s looking at the ramshackle marriage bed that takes up the bulk of this room he’s lured Jesper into. He unerringly picked the right closed door, too; he skipped the squeaky floorboards, as if he knew the exact layout of this—but it’s Kaz. He knows everything, even some dilapidated house in the Kerch countryside. The bed was probably a masterpiece of craftsmanship, when it was carved from some dark wood, a thousand years ago or whatever. The way it looks, it must’ve been old already when the previous owners of this farmhouse got it, and from the state of the house, they abandoned this place decades ago. Quite a lot of the furniture’s missing, either sold off when the place was left or stolen afterwards, but that bed was too worthless already.

The mattress is still there too. Probably fucking teeming with moth larvae and maggots and their combined accumulated shit, so it doesn’t bode too well for Jesper, how forcefully Kaz is staring at it.

“Please say it doesn’t involve the bed.”

“You said yes,” Kaz rasps, which is all the information Jesper needs to start gagging. Fake-gagging, for now, but if he sees even one wriggly little worm he’ll…

Bed. Darkling. That still doesn’t really… Want you to be him—oh—

“Yes, Jesper.” And how the hell with his ramrod tense back still turned towards Jesper—Jesper, who’s done nothing at all, hasn’t said anything except to register his displeasure at the idea of bathing in insect faeces and their squirming little manufacturers!—how the hell Kaz has realized that Jesper’s figured out what he probably means—it must be a confidence trick. Kaz likes those. But how—yeah, it’s not the point, but trying to understand whatever magic Kaz is using on him right now is much, much better for Jesper’s sanity than dwelling on the fact that Kaz might just have insinuated that he wants Jesper to pretend to be the Darkling, specifically the Darkling from that time he told Jesper about back in the Little Palace, the time he threw up after. The time he thought he could suppress his discomfort with touch long enough to seduce the Darkling into a partnership—seduce seduce, which means he wants—to flirt with Jesper? To sleep with Jesper? Is he actually saying he—

Oh. There’s a cracked mirror on the wall above the bed. That’s how Kaz saw his face.

Jesper would chalk the hallucination up to a hangover, but he’s not even drunk. Neither is Kaz, unless this old ruin of a farmhouse they broke into this morning is hiding barrels of wine the local youth haven’t made off with yet. Also, if he was hallucinating Kaz propositioning him he would—well, Jesper at least hopes he’d have enough self-respect not to make himself a stand-in for the man who bought and imprisoned Kaz for two years, controlled him by using his fears and modifying his body and cutting him off from every other person in the whole court, taking every single object he could have used to protect himself, and whatever those weird spines in Kaz’ chest are he’s probably responsible for them too. Jesper would not, actually, like the first and probably only time he’s allowed to kiss Kaz to be some kind of revenge-by-proxy thing where he recites the Darkling’s lines while Kaz swallows back bile, and then Kaz beats him up. Or murders him. It’s pathetic, but Jesper always imagined that kiss a little sweeter. Kissing over Haskell’s corpse. Kissing over the Darkling’s corpse. Kissing over the corpse of some other piece of shit who’s stupid enough to try using Kaz as their possession.

“Just warning you, I don’t have the costume or the script, so don’t expect something worthy of the Komedie Brute,” is what Jesper says instead.

Kaz’ eyebrow quirks. “You’re acted before, haven’t you? Improvised. You can flirt your way into anything. That was the main reason I kept you around.”

“You kept me around because I’m gorgeous, funny, and an incredible shot. I just play myself, if it’s seduction! Why would I improve upon perfection?”

“This isn’t seduction. He’s already locked me in the Little Palace for months at this point. Two escape attempts have failed. This is… speeding up the process,” Kaz says, nonchalantly enough it makes Jesper want to puke.

Which won’t help anything. He’s already agreed. And Kaz doesn’t care about moral objections, only practical ones. “I need more info. I haven’t actually met the Darkling.”

“You’ve met powerful men. You’ve met men who believe their righteous cause entitles them. You’ve met men mired in greed and vengeance—you’ve met me.”

“I like you.”

“Pretend you don’t, then. You used to complain about me in the Slat—of course I know, I knew everything that went on in the Dregs. You hated the way I seemed to know everything, and held it over you—so does he. You disliked my single-minded focus, the way you all seemed like pawns to me, my mockery. The way I held myself as something far superior to you. That’s a start.” Kaz limps a slow quarter circle around Jesper, and his dark eyes are burning with loathing. Jesper would hold him if he could. “You’re not asking why?”

“Uh, now that you mention—”

“I’m not going to tell you.”

Jesper sighs. Of course. He’s never expected anything else. Then he stands up straight, assuming his best the stick in my ass is so long it’s knocked the word fun from my brain pose that hopefully may pass for authoritative and slimes out, “What business, Mr Brekker?”

“Sun Summoner. Or Sunshine. He figured out Brekker’s a fake name on the first day.”

“Kaz Brekker’s a fake name?!” Jesper should have seen that coming, really… what does he even know about Kaz Brekker, truly? Except—

“It’s a name. It’s real enough. It’s feared. It’s mine.” Kaz’s eyes travel over the cobwebbed wall of the farmhouse bedroom, as if he was searching for the next lie to spin. Except that isn’t one of Kaz’ tells—Jesper’s seen him bamboozle and convince marks of the most stupid tales, and when Kaz wants them to believe him, he looks earnest. Young, depending on the role he plays, old, eager, stupid or wise. He doesn’t bother lying to Dregs, or rather: he doesn’t bother convincing them, usually. All his words are backed by the brutality of his cane. Who could be stupid enough to question even his weirdest utterances. “It just happens not to be one I was born with.”

“So what you’re saying is, the Darkling’s just not Kerch enough to get you?” Jesper grins. “Ketterdam, really—you know, I always really liked that about the Barrel, that healthy dose of ‘You are who you want and we don’t give a fuck to correct you.’ Anyway. Got it. You’re Kaz Brekker, but he’s a dick. Mr Sunbeam, what brings you into my office this evening?”

“The fete, Aleks.” Kaz shrugs off his coat, and then the purple kefta, too. He holds out the kefta in front of him, like he’s expecting Jesper to put it on. Well. That’s as good a start as any, and so Jesper turns and lets Kaz dress him into the robe he never wanted to wear.

“Then he says, ‘You must be nervous. After all, there are few gatherings in the Ketterdam slums that involve such spectacle.’” Kaz has sanded down his rasp somewhat, sounding almost smooth and seductive. He goes into a spiel of the Ravkan court and the inferiority of the Barrel that thankfully, he carries all by himself. Jesper wouldn’t even know what to say, except ‘Stop talking shit about the Barrel, you prick’ and that’s not exactly in character.

Kaz’ eyes periodically dart down to Jesper’s hands, and he realizes he’s fidgeting with the hem of the kefta’s sleeves. He stops.

“I am ready,” Kas says in his normal voice. His normal talking to a mark voice. “I realized what this demonstration represents—that I belong to something greater. It is as you said—we can offer Grisha and Ravkans hope. We. Together.” He stands up straight. Equally on both his legs. He winces. He’s not holding his cane, Jesper realizes. He’s not wearing his gloves. “I am ready to stand by your side. We should be partners. The Sun and the Dark.”

“Uh… great. We’ll be great together. Do great things. Better partners than enemies. Some of those rumours even freaked me out, you know—that kid with the wind-up toy in his throat—”

“Think before you speak, Jesper,” Kaz hisses. “Never let me lead. Never give me control. Every word is a cue to corral your prey where you want it—whether a compliment or a barely-there hidden threat.”

“Is that what you do?”

“Sometimes.” Kaz meets Jesper’s eyes. The tense mask of his face breaks into a smirk. “To be honest, I find the subtle craft of manipulation is wasted on you. You’ll obey anyway. Let’s go back to the start, and focus.”

Jesper shrugs off the kefta again and then lets Kaz dress him, again. He does his best imitation of Kaz, of that early Kaz before Jesper learned how he takes his coffee and before he saw the brutal twist of his face, that one time when the Dime Lions had Jesper on his knees and shoved a gun in his mouth. He plays the imperious tactician in his office who told his goons to drag Jesper up four flights of stairs with a bag over his head, ready to be shot for his debts, and then sold him on the one thing that gave his life meaning.

He insults Dirtyhands’ father and mother to his face, and gets really into it, too: Ketterdam’s full of idiots who’d miss the love of their life because they were busy trying to pry cobblestones off the streets to sell for half a sausage, and the harbour’s so filthy even the fish won’t fuck in it—keeping the brothels in good fish-ness, haha. Because the fish rent rooms so they don’t get fishy sex diseases from the water. Do fish get diseases from sex?

“Kill me now,” Kaz moans, and that one’s probably deserved.

“Anyway, my Sun Summoner, I’m sure you’ll perform well,” Jesper says with just the tiniest hint of slime.

“I am ready. I realized what this demonstration represents—that I belong to something greater. It is as you said—we can offer Grisha and Ravkans hope. We. Together.”

Jesper moves slowly, idly: not caging him in against the bed yet but definitely implying he can and will.

“I am ready to stand by your side. We should be partners. The Sun and the Dark.” Kaz swallows. “‘That means a lot to me. You mean a lot,’ is what you say now.”

How come the Darkling’s not constantly slipping on his own slimy slime trail?

“That means a lot to me.” Jesper gives Kaz a deep, smouldering look. The pockmarks on his cheeks. The jumping muscle in his jaw. The hint of a pained grimace from standing unaided. The boyish grin when he’s totally fucked over another gang boss and gets to gloat. The vicious hatred when someone touches his Crows. Licking powdered sugar off his gloves. “You mean a lot.”

And that’s it. The way Kaz looks at him—this is when the Darkling makes his move.

“I have been waiting for you for so long,” Jesper purrs smarmily, closing his eyes, moving in for the kiss, and—Kaz isn’t there anymore.

It was a single step backwards, because Kaz has hit the edge of the bed already, face blotched with humiliation, and the way he looks at Jesper is—angry is the least terrible interpretation. If he backs out now, Kaz is going to kill him for pitying him or catering to a weakness that honestly—how is not wanting this weak? But Kaz is Kaz, and Jesper’s just Jesper, and—

“Focus,” Kaz hisses. “You own Ravka. You will own the Sun, too. You have waited for this triumph—take it.”

“Why don’t we take this to the—” fuck you, Brekker, for making me say this— “bed, then? Take off your clothes. Don’t be scared.”

That’s a good dig. The kind of insult that looks super caring, unless you know Kaz enough to understand he sees any crack in his image as a dangerous failure. Jesper’s getting the hang of this malicious flirting thing, finally. When this is over, he’ll need to scrub the slime off himself twice.

Kaz looks at Jesper while he disrobes. At him, Jesper hopes against hope, at the real person he’s roped into his worst scheme yet with a goal that’s still totally obscure; at Jesper and not the asshole he’s imagining in his place. Kaz’ eyes trace his cheeks, dance over his shaved head, catch on the lips.

Jesper takes off his boots and gun belt, and the kefta. He undoes the fly of his trousers, pulls his dick out, and stops. He glares at Kaz, daring him to object to the attempt at making this slightly less miserable—Jesper’s the Darkling, he’s in charge, so Kaz can fuck off with his masochism. He’s done undressing. He’s not taking off his shirt or trousers. That layer of cloth stays on.

But Kaz doesn’t object. He stands up straight, naked, brittle, wincing, and then glancing away he mutters, “Ignore the antlers. He hadn’t done that yet.”

Fucking Darkling.

The antlers stick out of Kaz’ collarbones, uneven tines of—possession, mutilation, and Jesper’s eyes catch on a tiny set of grooves on the left one. The scabbed-over cuts underneath. The bruise from the gunshot. And even despite that horror, Kaz has a nice chest. Serious muscle, a street map of scars and a smattering of dark hairs—it feels weirdly improper to stare at him, so Jesper’s eyes dance down to his knobbly left knee and the softly twisted right thigh with its knots of scars, up to the face where he’s biting his harsh pretty mouth, and down again. His dick is nice, fat but not too long, rooted in a tangle of dark curls.

It’s utterly limp.

It’s pathetic, how much that hurts. Of course he isn’t into this. Of course he doesn’t find Jesper remotely attractive. Of course this is just some weird masochistic proxy powerplay for him, some attempt to prove he’s stronger now and can bear it or whatever the fuck, and Jesper’s just the sad stupid body he’s using to enact it.

And of course not even that is enough to make Jesper bow out. Kaz asked.

“Do you want me to suck you off first? Get you in the mood, even a little?” It’s not just for Kaz, that offer, though the whole thing will probably be less painful and awkward if he manages to coax out some arousal. It’s not for younger Jesper, who fantasized about being ordered to blow his boss as penance more often than he likes to admit. No, this is so Jesper can bury his face in Kaz’ pubic hair for a minute. And cry.

Kaz raises an eyebrow. He sounds arch and ice cold when he asks, “Jesper, do you think the Darkling would suck my dick?”

“He should have. Saints, what an asshole,” Jesper shoots back before he can think. “You need a better class of lovers.”

“By which you’re of course implying that you are much better than Aleksander Morozova, the General Kirigan, the Black Heretic, eternal Conqueror and crowned Emperor of Greater Ravka, Salvation to Grishadom, Master of the Fold and He who chained the Sun, et cetera and so fucking on and so fucking forth the Darkling himself?”

“Given I just offered you a blowjob without bringing useless power shit into it, yes.”

“Wrong data, incoherent formula. Correct answer.” Kaz’ grin is crooked. Inordinately fond, and Jesper would have settled for no longer desperately hiding terror but this is—

Yeah.

“I’m going to try to make this roleplay as realistic as I can, but I don’t know if I can forget enough about how to have sex to sink to the Darkling’s level. Also, you don’t happen to have the address of that Grisha Tailor who mutilated you back there? I need them to make my dick look weird. Corkscrew, maybe. Some warts. It’s probably green. I’d peg him for advanced neurological syphilis but I am about to sleep with you, so— ”

“Did you know, Jesper, that the Darkling always wears a gag when he has sex?”

“Shutting up now, boss.”

“Don’t shut up,” Kaz replies instantly. Very, very instantly. “Just keep your disparagements somewhat plausible. And… rare.”

Only to jolt me back, he’s asking. “Got it. So I guess I’m supposed to loom over you a little? How close do you want me?”

“I’ll need to—” Kaz turns around and bends over to root around in the pockets of his coat, and it’s even weirder, worse, looking at his ass when Jesper knows Kaz doesn’t like him back. Kaz tosses over a tiny bottle. Oil. “Give that to me. Tell me to prepare myself.”

“Just saying it once more, boss. You don’t have to go through with—”

“Stop thinking about the Kaz Brekker you know,” Kaz hisses. “Stop anticipating my reactions. Stop caring. You are the Darkling. You have been waiting for the Sun Summoner for decades. You’ve formed your picture of them. This delinquent flinching little rat you bought doesn’t quite fit, not his limp, not his fear of touch, not his pathetic need to assert himself, but, well… you have time. He’ll learn how to make himself fit into the space you provide him. He’ll become your Sun Summoner.”

“Have I told you yet that I’m going to kill that piece of shit?”

“You’ve mentioned it, once or twice. In the last hour.”

Jesper bares his teeth: a grin, but not. A promise. “Good. I’ll hold his mouth open while you stuff him full of black powder and set him on fire.”

“Stop stalling, Jesper. That won’t make it any easier.”

That won’t make it not have happened.

“If you’re sure this will help.”

Kaz nods.

“Lie down on the bed, then. Is there a—no, no pillows here, roll up the coat and slide it under your hips.” Jesper turns his face away, listening to the timid, stuttering squelches of Kaz stretching his asshole. Jesper doesn’t know what would be worse: if, after everything, he can’t get it up… or if he can.

Well. He’ll have to. His dick will just have to obey the dictates of the situation, just as Kaz’ body was made into the Sun Summoner. He’s young. He’s still looking at Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, naked, who asked Jesper to sleep with him, and that’ll have to be enough. They’ve gotten this far. They’ll force their way through. That’s how you do it. That’s how you gamble. How you lose big. Kaz might have once tried to explain to him something about sunk costs and throwing good money after bad, but Jesper ignored him that night and lost a hundred and twenty kruge to Specht, and he’s never looked back.

“Okay, Mr Sunshine. Let’s consummate our fucking partnership,” he grinds out when Kaz has gone quiet, takes the bottle to slick up his own uncooperative dick, and carefully, he climbs on top of Kaz. The clothes were a good decision: Kaz barely flinches when he kneels in-between his legs and pulls the sleeve over his hand to carefully guide his right knee to rest on Jesper’s thigh.

Kaz is staring up at his face, breathing, just breathing. The antlers in his collarbone frame his bright face—brighter than the candles should allow, like maybe—and his focus is rigid and he’s breathing, breathing quickly—

“Is this teaching you anything yet?”

“Not really,” Kaz rasps, after too long. “Or—I think—maybe it was—” he glances at Jesper’s pathetic, unhappy limp dick. His face twists. “I thought you were into me.”

This is— “I love you. Kaz Brekker, whoever you are. I don’t give a fuck about this Sun Summoner bullshit. I love you. I love you,” because this is—Jesper can’t do this. He can’t. His elbows are locked: he can’t drop his body any lower. He can't go lower than this. “I love you,” until it’s finally over. “I love you. I love you.”

☼

“And I’m telling you again, I don’t know what he does Tuesday evenings,” Jesper hisses.

“You were still with the Dregs, three months ago!” Kaz is wiping his cane clean. It didn’t even really get dirty—they mostly used kitchen knives to do the deed, and in the case of a maidservant who unwisely came to work in the middle of the night, a bullet that Jesper’s already collected and reshaped into something functional, because he might not get to buy new ones. Desperation. Frugality. The Kerch are rubbing off on him. It’s good, though. The fact he’s cleaning the wood is all the confirmation Jesper will likely ever get that Kaz does like the new cane Jesper made him from a cute straight rowan sapling, reinforced with the metal scavenged from all but the most essential buttons on their hodgepodge of clothes. At least there’s one thing of Jesper’s he values. “How can you not know the behavioural patterns of your boss? Are you that brainless?”

“No-one knew what he was up to! He barely came by the Slat. He wasn’t that interested in us.”

“You worked for Per Haskell, Jesper; you worked for that man for years—for nearly as many as I did, when you ran off to Ravka—and now you attempt to convince me you barely know his name?” Kaz still doesn’t look quite as harsh as he used to, or maybe that’s just Jesper hankering for their past. Well, he didn’t used to explain his plans to Jesper as if he was an imbecile—but then, he didn’t used to need Jesper. He had more stooges back then. Now, he only has one. Ally. Friend.

If it’s as weird for him, though, as it is for Jesper being back in Ketterdam after he didn’t die on his revenge suicide plot and the city didn’t, either—well, he might still get murdered for stealing the Sun Summoner or skipping out on debts or something completely unrelated, and Ketterdam’s… well, she’s weathering having her ruling class torn apart twice in short order, once by the Darkling’s conquest and now, by the slow collapse of the Darkling’s overstretched realm after he’s lost his saint/weapon/doll.

The Barrel’s fine—as glary and miserable as it ever was, anyway, but though Kaz would probably insist most of the Mercher’s Council had their hands in gang business one way or the other, their reach was indirect, mediated and secretive enough for the chaos tearing up the Geldstraat not to trickle down as quickly into the slums. And anyway, the involvement of the merchers only ever made life worse for most people. The plight of the rich can only be a blessing.

Right now, they’re inside a nice place in the Zelver district. Close enough to power to feel the death throes, and even disregarding the political manoeuvring and debris and panic everywhere, just looking at the house from the outside made Kaz twitchy, somehow.

His energy almost matched Jesper’s trigger finger.

It’s Haskell’s house, so that unease makes sense.

Haskell’s expensive secret new house far outside the Barrel that they’re despoiling now. They looked as out of place in the beautiful Zelver district as any Barrel rats, with their heads shorn close to the bone so they’ll look different enough to not get recognized and faces wiped with dirt, dressed in a melange of Ravkan clothes they haven’t found a chance to replace yet and tawdry Barrel flash for everything else.

Kaz was wearing two coats when he entered the house, an old rose and amber paisley trench that even Jesper admitted is hideous, though now it’s splattered with blood that actually really ties the colour scheme together. Still gross though, and luckily slung over the chair. Along with the purple kefta Kaz hid underneath, the one he still hasn’t given back. Or burned, which is what they did to the other Ravkan overcoats. On the streets his two coats bulked up his frame so much he looked like a kid that Jesper’s never met, dressed up to play a gangster’s role. He looked nothing like the Sun Summoner anymore, and only somewhat like Jesper’s imagined baby Dirtyhands crawling out straight from the harbour, fifty kilos sopping wet and ready to kill a man and feast on his entrails.

Now, he’s stripped down to a ruffled red shirt over a green undershirt—he conspicuously shunned the yellow one next to it on the washing line—and light blue pinstripe trousers. The shirt is a little large in the shoulders, and he’s cuffed the trousers. They stole everything from a cottage on the edge of Ketterdam. Not quite Barrel flash, but almost—alike in style but with better fabric, something a town edge kid probably bought to look like a cool gangster. Or something Jesper would have bought to look special for a very special date. If he squints, he can almost imagine—it’s the morning after, and—

Ever since the Little Palace the idea of Kaz naked has totally lost its lustre. The idea of his muscular but scrawny, scarred chest, his wiry tattooed arms, his ambiguously demonic hands—it’s all overlaid now with a flimsy ugly sleeveless yellow paper taffeta gown. With normal hands, kept bare as humiliation.

But maybe—maybe they sat together, not on a log in a forest but on a sofa this time, and then in the morning Kaz was cold and he stole all of Jesper’s clothes to wear over his own. That’s much better. (Maybe he just wanted Jesper naked all day…)

Jesper won’t let the Darkling steal his fantasies, too. They’re—

Ouch. Fucking ouch.

Jesper really shouldn’t have added tiny spiky worms to the side of the cane, but Kaz’ indignation was just too funny.

“Let me make this clear—” Kaz rasps, once he’s regained Jesper’s full attention. Half-full. ‘Like he’s plundered Jesper’s wardrobe’ is still such a good look on him. “We are both hunted. Neither of us can afford to be caught outside on the streets of Ketterdam and let whoever saw us live. If we’re going to make Haskell’s house our temporary base of operations, we need to make his death as inconspicuous as possible. We cannot safely anticipate which of his visitors to eliminate and which to fool unless we know whether they, in turn, may be missed.”

“Well,” Jesper mutters. “Mitki might come by. If the neighbours don’t chase him off.”

Kaz raises a single, dirt-encrusted eyebrow.

“Mitki’s the newest lieutenant. Might have made it this—”

“Not Anika? I can understand why a flake like you didn’t rise in the Dregs ranks, but she—”

“Ambush. Dime Lions, five weeks after you disappeared.”

“Rotty?”

“Slit throat. Still no clue who did it.”

“Specht? Pim? Neeta? Big Bol?”

“Razorgulls, knife, last year. Bullet to the head, same day. Hellgate. Hellgate.”

“Muzzen? Ruk? Keeg?”

“Another ‘Gull stabbing, just before I left. Hellgate, again. Keeg just disappeared, though. Might still be alive somewhere over the True Sea, if he’s clever. Not that he was, he’s probably floating, poor sod.” Jesper shrugs. After a while, it just gets too much: the beginning of the Dregs’ end is seared into his brain, but there aren’t enough synapses for the tenth—or fiftieth—dead friend to hurt as much. “There’s a reason why I didn’t think twice about running when I lost those fifty thousand. Like I said, boss, it’s been a shitshow since you left. Haskell never wanted for new ones, since he got his kids fresh off the street, but he just stopped giving any shit whatsoever, and since you weren’t there to pick up the slack… well, I can see why he didn’t care, now.”

Jesper spares a bitter look for the mountain of kruge next to Haskell’s foot, the mountain he offered Kaz as soon as he saw him, long before Kaz even tried to hack off both his hands and feet with a dull meat cleaver. Long before Kaz had to settle for cutting down to the bone and then wrenching Haskell’s extremities from their sockets by sheer force of hatred, while Jesper puked into the kitchen sink. The mountain he’d never have amassed as the boss of a gang as shambolic as the last years of the Dregs.

The mountain that’s going to pay off Inej’s indenture tomorrow.

Haskell allowed her to rot there. It’s only fair he pays for her freedom with his life.

“Everyone we could use is gone. And you…” Kaz tips Jesper’s chin up with his cane. The world shimmies a little. “You, of all the old Dregs, survived.”

Jesper shrugs again. This is too much to confess to Kaz, of all cruel bastards, probably far too much, but—they’re sitting in the living room of Jesper’s former boss, the man who sold Kaz out to the Darkling and used the prize money to live in luxury, while letting his gang die on increasingly pointless ill-planned errands. The other end of the table is still flecked and puddled with slow-drying blood—not to mention the corpse, or corpse-pieces, laying there—but over here, they have a bottle of expensive whisky they found in a cabinet and they’re trading swigs from the bottle, all bitter and clean.

“I didn’t take it too well, when you and Inej just disappeared, and then my friends kept dying. Might have gone on a couple of benders. Might have lost some games. Might have lost some fights. Might have had some sexual encounters with people who turned out to be massive creeps. Consequently, I may not have been technically around to be asked to go on some of these errands, or perhaps I just didn’t notice because I was drunk.”

“Jesper.” Kaz doesn’t even sound surprised. Wow. Thanks for having faith in me, boss.

It’s not really that humiliating, though, now he’s said it out loud. He spent two years making bad decisions and occasionally braiding Inej’s hair. Kaz spent that time getting turned into a doll. Who can say what’s worse? He takes another deep gulp and grins. “You know me, boss. I need some external structure in life. I really need a commandeering asshole dragging me into his schemes to be my best self.”

“And yet, you outwitted the Darkling.”

“That wasn’t difficult, to be fair. Tell them I’m Grisha, search the Little Palace, shoot Kaz Brekker in the head, get executed…” Jesper trails off. When the silence grows teeth, he takes a pull of whisky that’s so desperate it makes him cough, but Kaz is still letting him stew.

They don’t really need to talk about it, though. No value in going over what happened in the Little Palace. No value in discussing anything. Everything is fine now. Yes, Jesper did want to kill Kaz. Yes, he’ll die for Kaz.

And they both know why.

Kaz steals the bottle. It’s incredible, actually, Jesper was just holding it—well, maybe he’s a little more drunk than he thought, but Kaz would probably like being complimented on his pickpocketing. “I didn’t even see you steal that bottle,” Jesper says.

“I’d be angry you’re drunk,” Kaz rasps. “But you’ve been completely useless at all stages of the current plan so far. And the previous one, by your planning—I always forget, in my amazement at what you accomplished, that you failed.”

He says that, but his cheeks are flushed pink with alcohol. His pupils are wide when he looks at Jesper. He raises the bottle to his lips and tips his head back, swallowing what should have easily been ten more swigs of whisky. Thieving bastard.

☼

When Jesper awakes on Haskell’s second softest chaise longue in the receiving room—neither of them was particularly eager to climb into Haskell’s bed, and, in Jesper’s case, not particularly still able to walk up the stairs either—his mouth is dry, his bladder full and the light is poking his brain even through closed curtains and eyelids. And Kaz—he searches the whole house after finishing his business, but yes, it’s true—Kaz is gone.

So are his cane and his current Barrel flash coat and the kefta, which means Kaz is probably safe. Well. As safe as the escaped Sun Summoner can be. Not kidnapped, at least. More alive than anyone stupid enough to cross Kaz’ path.

He’s taken Haskell’s kruge, and left a note.

In Kaz’ sharp hand, the note reads, “STAY.”

It’s underlined three times, and on the back side Kaz has written, “or you will die,” which to be fair is pretty ambiguous.

‘Die’ as in, ‘I mistrust your competence and assume you’ll get yourself killed if you move a finger?’ Or as in, ‘I’m warning you I won’t go out of my way to save you?’ Perhaps it’s a straightforward ‘Disobey and I am going to personally murder you and piss on your corpse?’ All are very real possibilities, knowing Kaz.

To really understand the message, Jesper needs to get into Kaz’ mood when he woke up—hungover, but how much? Enough he hates the entire world, or so much he hates Jesper more? Also, his current way of thinking. Jesper’s usefulness. A point in favour is the fact that Jesper saved him from a fate worse than death, but on the other hand, Jesper forgot to extract a deal from him and Kaz is so Kerch it hurts, which means he’s pared down solidarity and reciprocity and love into exchange, into deals, and all Jesper’s offering are the first three. They shared a bottle of whisky next to the corpse of their old boss, though, and in general Kaz looked like he was having fun more than once on their dirty, miserable long trek out of Ravka. Way more fun than he had in the majestic Little Palace. Also, Jesper’s incredibly likeable. He’s beautiful and funny and stupidly in love with Kaz without asking anything in return, so really it only makes sense that Kaz has finally succumbed to his charm.

(He dug his hand into Jesper’s hair, that night on the fallen tree and twice afterwards, but—maybe that was only to make Jesper squirm.)

Well, he enjoyed Jesper’s company while they fled from Ravka to Ketterdam, at least. That’s the crux of it.

So why would Kaz anticipate that Jesper might want to run anywhere? There’s a well-stocked kitchen here. A far more sensible assumption would be that Jesper might want to make some waffles or go on a morning jog. No, not that one. Enjoy a lavish breakfast. Have a bath, perhaps, after spending two weeks crawling through the Ravkan forest and the Shu countryside and stowed in the belly of a wine cargo ship and then countryside again, this time Kerch. Jesper’s feet hurt just thinking about it, and that Kaz managed to get here, even at the half-speed they settled on, speaks to—well, the same bull-headed masochism as always, but the fact he still refused to even consider stealing a cart or horse or approach any larger settlement before Ketterdam means he must be even more terrified of the Darkling than Jesper can imagine. He refused to leave any trace whatsoever. (And yet he’s back in Ketterdam, the one city in the world he was connected to before the Little Palace, because…?)

Ketterdam is the only city, village, collection of buildings and people they’ve been to for weeks, which means it’s the first chance Jesper has to gamble, but—even he knows not to stake anything on the possibility there’s someone left in the Barrel who doesn’t know about Jesper Fahey, he who owes Pekka Rollins fifty thousand kruge and just skipped town, kill immediately with extreme prejudice.

Well, Rollins is dead now—the only gang boss courageous or aggrieved or hungry enough to try and covertly resist the Darkling, go figure—but whoever’s head Lion now probably won’t even let Jesper try to spin an argument about how he really owes that money to ‘Pekka Rollins’ Dime Lions’, not any successor organizations. No such luck, and anyway, people stupid enough to bounce on their debts are fair game to any gang in the Barrel. They don’t cooperate on much, not even for mutual benefit, but murdering dishonest gamblers? That’s a team sport.

Jesper’s last recklessly suicidal plan worked out fantastic, so maybe he should find a card table. His luck’s turned. He could win millions.

Which Kaz definitely would anticipate, and warn him away from. Kaz is a buzzkill. Just because Jesper’s going to get murdered on sight in the Barrel…

Because Jesper’s gonna get murdered on sight in the Barrel.

If Kaz wants to rebuild his status in the Barrel, there’s no bigger liability than Jesper. And Kaz wants to, surely. He worked his way up inside the Dregs carefully and diligently, spent more time than anyone sane would inside a tiny attic office adding up numbers, and sucked up to an utter piece of shit like Haskell, just so he could one day become a Barrel boss. And now, to rise again, he has to cut off the dead weight.

Which means Jesper.

That’s why he left.

It’s not even a betrayal. They don’t have an agreement for life after reaching Ketterdam, let alone one that says Jesper can follow him forever and ever just like in the good old days. Inej—but Inej’s actually useful to a new Barrel boss, as soon as her indenture’s paid. Jesper’s the weak link here. Jesper’s screwed.

Which doesn’t mean he won’t go down fighting. He knows the way to the Menagerie—the quickest way, the scenic route, the paths least commonly trafficked by Pigeons and the ones usually avoided by staadwatch or gangsters. He knows Kaz well enough to guess which one he’s taken. If he hasn’t woken too late—and by the sun’s position, it’s still early in the morning—then he has a chance to pass Kaz off and… insult him? Beg? Cry? Sell his father’s soul for a position in the new Dregs? Maybe he’ll just have to wear a Komedie Brute mask for the rest of his life and it’ll be fine. He’ll figure it out later.

Jesper draws his shoulders up to his ears while he scurries through empty alleyways, the collar of his fancy pseudo-Barrel flash coat turned up. He’s almost glad that Kaz made him go hatless and shaved bald—thoroughly unstylish and un-Jesper enough he might survive the morning—but there are drawbacks to the disguise in the damp chill.

Also, the disguise isn’t good enough. After some minutes, Jesper notices that some clusters of metal stay at roughly the same distance to him. Eight clusters of—round, small, definitely mostly kruge with a few Ravkan coins thrown in. Thirteen guns. A rifle. Two of the coin clusters are fairly close together and move in unison. Jesper’s dealing with seven shadows, then.

That’s—a lot.

Jesper’s had a little more training being a Durast now, but what he could really use now is combat training. He hasn’t even been in a battle in over a month, unless you count handing Kaz knives while he carves up Per Haskell, and since Jesper had to puke right after, you probably shouldn’t. He’s fought rabbits. Jesper’s sure fought some rabbits in Ravka. Two deer, too.

He could probably escape his pursuers. It would take time, though, time Jesper doesn’t have when Kaz is leaving him behind without a word. He’ll just have to kill them quickly.

At least there’s one of his favourite surveillance detection routes nearby. One of the rare aboveground tunnels in Ketterdam, not used by Pigeons for obvious reasons of creepiness and also because it just leads to a big courtyard behind a factory: a courtyard that’s easy to escape, when you know the gate’s lock is broken. Kaz showed it to him, just weeks after Jesper got recruited, after the second time the ‘Gulls got the drop on him and beat him to a pulp. In the courtyard, he made Jesper shoot some sparrows and some pigeons to prove his worth. Not crows, though, and for a year Jesper believed that detail was just thrown in to test whether Jesper would obey nonsensical orders. It’s still a plausible explanation.

He’ll just have to ask Kaz, after he begs him for a role in the new Dregs. After he kills these seven pursuers.

If.

He catches the first man off-guard and blows his head off when he exits the tunnel, but after that, it’s a stand-off. Jesper, hiding behind a massive wood barrel for cover, against six men ducked into the mouth of the tunnel.

Jesper manages to pick off another man by firing into the tunnel and blindly redirecting the bullet into the first nook, but the second attempt at using that trick doesn’t hit anything, and neither does the third. He has eight bullets left now, and five enemies. Even Jesper can tell that’s bad odds.

Retreating across the courtyard, though—the first few meters are fine, there are enough wine barrels and he can just dash from one to another, slightly nudging bullets off their course so none hit him.

Those guys have far too many bullets left, though, by the time Jesper’s forty meters away from the gate. Forty meters without cover. His pursuers aren’t bad shots either—likely Dime Lions, because there’s no way a Liddy would ever get so close that Jesper has to redirect their bullet—and they’re cautious enough that only two of them are crouched behind that barrel next to the tunnel, now, while the rest are still hidden inside.

This might get a little tough—but if Jesper starts manipulating bullets more obviously, will that information travel to the Little Palace? They know the Sun Summoner escaped with a Fabrikator. Is he painting a target on Kaz’ back?

Is he—

Bloodcurdling screams and groans, and Jesper’s too far away to hear any thwacks but his senses have expanded and he knows that metal coating intimately. Knows that cane.

Kaz emerges from the tunnel opening, Inej behind him, and—

Boom.

The Dime Lion’s shot him.

Right in the chest, and Kaz stumbles, falls to his knees.

Keels over.

Jesper shoots wildly while he runs over, whirling the bullets around the barrel that the Dime Lions are hiding behind—two left, Kaz wouldn’t have let any of the ones in the tunnel escape—desperate to hit something or at least keep them distracted and scared long enough to get there, or for—Inej’s pulling Kaz back by his coat, and she’s still wearing a sheer Menagerie dress, she probably doesn’t have any knives to protect—nothing’s hit yet, nothing’s hit, and all Jesper’s bullets are in the air whizzing around but he’s not hitting anything and Kaz is down and Kaz—

Kaz pushes himself to his knees, and then he stands up.

He’s breathing hard, and in the ugly rose/amber/bloodstain trench there’s a hole above his heart, sooty and burnt, but he’s still alive, Kaz is alive, he’s—

“What are you?” a Dime Lion gasps. Jesper’s finally got a bead on her. He sinks three bullets into her head.

“I just killed…” The other one is less lucky, and Jesper only manages to hit his stomach before he runs out of airborne bullets. He’ll die, but it won’t be quick.

“I crawled out of the harbour before. I’ll do it again,” Kaz rasps, and before the Dime Lion manages more than “Dirty—” a wet squelch informs Jesper of his demise.

That’s all of them.

“Kaz, you—” Inej’s much quicker at Kaz’ side, but he moves away before she can touch him to check his injury. Moves quickly enough he’s probably not on death’s door. He is a good actor, though. She looks at Jesper, and he’s about to join her in begging Kaz to get some medical aid, at least, but then Kaz shrugs off the ruined trench coat.

“Those kefta aren’t entirely useless,” Kaz rasps, grinning like an amused fucking asshole who almost gave Jesper a heart attack.

And then, Inej wraps herself around Jesper.

“You’re alive! I was terrified,” she shouts against his chest, slapping his back and grabbing as if she can’t decide whether to kill Jesper or never let go. “I thought you got yourself killed! You just disappeared, no word, I thought—”

“I may have lost a game where the stake was fifty thousand kruge?”

“You—Jes—” Inej squeezes him harder. “I told you to stop. I’d rather have you, with me, than have you die trying to pay me off.”

“I almost won! But there was no chance I’d get out of it, without indenturing myself, and—it all worked out, didn’t it? You’re free! Which reminds me…” Jesper takes off his own coat—blue and green and purple wave patterns, very fancy, a bit on the small side for him—and lays it onto Inej’s shoulders. It suits her, too—it drowns her a little, sure, but the way the coat reaches down to her ankles looks regal, and anyway, Kaz is a good sewer. He’ll fix this. “Can’t have you catching a cold.”

Before she can reply—tell him again she wasn’t worth risking his life and freedom in every card game he could for two years, when she definitely is, she’s Inej, he’ll do anything for her—he runs away and searches the dead Dime Lions for a new coat for himself, all their money, the rifle, and picks up the used bullets too. Knowing Kaz, he’ll want them to leave this place soon, and Jesper can’t very well try to convince his boss he needs to keep his sharpshooter around when he has no bullets left.

Speaking of—Jesper saunters over to Kaz when he’s done. With his most careless grin, he says, “I want my goodbye kiss before you ditch me.”

“I left you a note,” Kaz rasps. “I should have remembered you can’t read.”

Which as good as counts as a promise that Kaz didn’t intend to leave him behind: that, and the adrenaline of an easy gunfight has Jesper grinning widely. This is the life he wanted. The life he yearned for during the last two miserable years. The Crows are back, baby. He asks, “What now, boss?”

“We leave. Before anyone comes to investigate those gunshots.”

“Novyi Zem?”

“No,” Kaz rasps, just as Inej says, “They’ll let us drown.”

“They what?”

“Move.” Kaz starts limping past the factory, and then doubles back one street over—in the general direction away from the sea. Jesper and Inej quickly flank him. “I went to the Fifth Harbour before I paid off Inej’s indenture. It’s near empty. Old man there said no boats go to Novyi Zem or Eames Chin right now, and no boats come back. Because nothing gets unloaded. Kerch ships can’t dock there. They all get stranded at sea.”

“People started running when Ravka cut us off from the continent,” Inej mutters. “Before the invasion. And now the Darkling’s gone, the Kerch Grisha are either running or dead.”

“Too many refugees, apparently. Something about culture and scroungers and economic migrants. Novya Zem’s closed its ports to Kerch.”

“But I’m Zemeni—”

“You’re just a person. Those borders don’t exist to help you. The harbour watch don’t exist for you, the government doesn’t exist for you—if there’s a choice between cementing their power and your life, every bureaucrat worth their salt will choose the former.”

Jesper wants to argue, but actually, he’d trust Kaz over Novyi Zem a million times. Kaz saved his life when Ketterdam and Kerch would have swallowed him whole. Novyi Zem isn’t any different. “So we’re stuck in Ketterdam, then, where I’ll get shot on sight and you’ll easily get tracked by the Darkling. I only remember one safehouse that’s still uncompromised, as of last month anyway, unless you think we should go back to Haskell’s, boss?”

“Inej,” Kaz rasps. “That shop over there. Buy us a cart. We’re going to Lij.”

“What’s in Lij, boss? Why Lij? Where is Lij, anyway?”

But Kaz doesn’t answer him. Even aboard the cart, directing their new donkey with a seemingly perfect grasp of the roads leading to a small southern Kerch town none of them have ever been to, he refuses to elaborate. He looks tense, though. Jesper reshapes his many new bullets while he walks alongside. If there’s a fight waiting for them in Lij, they’re going to win.

☼

Kaz paces the length of the room. Window, door, window, door—there’s not much space beside the marriage bed, and the air draft of his passing caresses Jesper’s shorn head.

He’s put back together now, dressed in his socks and his boots and his underpants and his trousers and his gloves, though his torso’s only covered by the open purple kefta. Despite the cane, he limps more heavily than before he trekked for weeks through the Ravkan forest. He’s not fully recovered yet, if he’ll ever be.

Jesper’s on the floor. He climbed off the bed—off Kaz, after he ruined Kaz’ stupid get proxy-raped by the proxy-Darkling again plan. He said what he said, and the silence that followed was all the answer he’ll get, and then he sat down on the floor. It’s as good a place to wait as any. Probably more hygienic than the bed, anyway. He watched Kaz dress, until he almost looked like the Barrel lieutenant they both wish he was still allowed to be, and now he’s watching Kaz Brekker Dirtyhands the Sun Summoner pace holes in the old dusty floor of an abandoned farmhouse an hour’s walk outside of the small Kerch town of Lij.

He’s not getting murdered, though. Not for what he almost did. Not for what he said. That’s as good as this was ever going to go.

“It was worse this time.” Kaz directs his rasp towards the floor. He doesn’t stop moving. “I froze. Why was it—it was you. I knew you were—you’d never—with you it should have been more tolerable. Not worse.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss.” Jesper still can’t decide whether he should be ashamed that he was too squeamish to go through with it. Kaz doesn’t seem as angry as he could be, that Jesper totally fucked up this whatever-it-was-supposed-to-be. Not the mocking disappointment he doles out at Jesper’s predictable failures—gambling, distractibility, lateness, no impulse control and so on—and not the seething hatred when Jesper does something he hasn’t anticipated.

“I turned it over and over in my mind. For a year. What I did wrong. How I could have turned this to my advantage. How to excise this weakness. I thought I’d found—but there’s nothing.”

Jesper would offer to brutally desecrate the Darkling’s corpse again, but it clearly doesn’t help. Kaz won’t let this go. Never mind that he was a teenage thief imprisoned in a palace. Never mind it was him against the whole entourage of the most powerful Grisha. The man who crowned himself Emperor.

Sometimes you’re just fucked. And there’s nothing you can do. Life isn’t fair.

“There is a way to beat him,” Kaz hisses. “And I will find it.”

“You did. Sort of.”

“What—”

Jesper grins a shark-grin. “You’re not in Ravka now, are you?”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why doesn’t it? No, boss, listen—he didn’t beat you alone, either, right? He had his Tailor making you into a doll. His Fabrikators locking your cage. His soldiers. Hell, Haskell selling you out—so really, it’s your victory that I found you.” Now that Jesper’s trying to explain his gut reaction, it just seems more and more logical. “Why can’t you have your own gang? You practically rescued yourself. You took a look at a boy who’d have gotten shot in a few weeks because he couldn’t pay is debts and he couldn’t stop fucking gambling—you had me dragged up to your office. You took that chance. You saved my life so I could save yours. That’s… planning ahead. Planning years ahead. Well done.”

Kaz finally, finally stops pacing. He sinks into the mattress just slightly to the right of Jesper, so he can sprawl out his legs without making contact. He looks at Jesper, but he’s silent, and his face isn’t giving anything away.

At first, that makes it feel like he’s actually listening. Actually considering what Jesper told him, and agreeing. Kaz is a quick thinker, though. He doesn’t need this long to realize that Jesper’s correct, which means he’s coming up with counterarguments—arguments why actually, he’s still weak or whatever and needs to force himself—and Jesper really, really can’t watch him do this to himself again. Why this, anyway? Why is this the weakness he fixated on?

“Why is that creep so obsessed with making you touch people, anyway?”

“Because it’s easy. Necessary. Even a child does it. Touch is what makes us human, and the Sun Summoner is human, whatever lies he tells himself,” Kaz recites. His eyes are bright. Wet.

“Bullshit. You terrorized the Barrel for years and it didn’t matter at all that you never touched anyone. It was just you. It didn’t even really sink in for me, that you don’t touch people, until I saw the way he dressed you up, how miserable you were.” That’s probably a good place to leave it, but Jesper’s livid. Jesper could mince and mangle fifty Darklings with the pure force of his loathing, and there’s not even a single one around here. That energy has to go somewhere. “You’re trying to tell me the Ravkan fucking palace couldn’t change protocol a little and adapt? If it never mattered in the Barrel, it never mattered at all. He just picked something. If you’d been allergic to shellfish, that’s the only food he would have served you, and he would have said you’re weak for your windpipe swelling up. He wasn’t able control you because touch made you weak. When you’re in control, it doesn’t matter. Because you fucking kill whoever touches you. You don’t bow to them. They bow to you.”

Kaz doesn’t reply. He doesn’t look away from Jesper, though. He just stares down at him, with his eyes still wide and still wet. He mutters, “You’ve turned quite opinionated in my absence, Jesper.”

“In your presence. I’m quoting your words back to you—sort of, it was about the cane, and I’ve forgotten half of it. But you were right. You were always right.” Jesper laughs. “See? Now you’re teaching yourself through time and space! Your masterplan is incredibly fucking elaborate!”

“My—I’m not falling for it.” Kaz is grinning, though. “If I agree now—by this time tomorrow you’ll have done something incredibly stupid and you’ll throw the whole Everything I do is your triumph because you saved me thing in my face. I’m not responsible for your awful jokes!”

Pretending to wipe tears from his eyes, Jesper wails, “My plan! My ingenious plan! Foiled by the dastardly Dirtyhands, oh no!”

Kaz laughs at him. Kaz laughs, and laughs, and Jesper joins him.

It takes a while before Kaz stops, gasping for breath. No-one in Ravka’s ever told a good joke, Jesper decides, because he’s made way funnier jokes before that Kaz didn’t even chuckle at, but gift horses and mouths and so on. Colour’s returned to Kaz’ face: his cheeks are blotchy and red, even after his breathing’s evened out. Kaz mumbles, “You know, that’s exactly how I imagined it.”

What? Oh. Jesper’s sprawled on the floor, leaning back on his elbows, his shirt pulled out of his trousers—his trousers, which are open, and he still hasn’t tucked away his dick. He forgot. There were more far important things to do, and now… well, he probably looks more debauched than Kaz in his purple kefta, with just his prick exposed to the chilly night-time Kerch air while he lounges on the ground. He ghosts a finger over it.

“Do you want me to—do you want to watch, boss?”

“I’d—” Kaz swallows. “Saints.”

Jesper turns a little, so Kaz can get a better view. He doesn’t undress, in case that’s an integral part of the fantasy, just gently trails his fingers down his still-limp dick—though it’s definitely waking up now—and looks up at Kaz.

Kaz doesn’t meet his eyes anymore, but that’s fine: more than fine, when he’s alternately looking at Jesper’s cock and at Jesper’s lips. Jesper darts out his tongue, and Kaz’ pupils blow even wider. Jesper licks down his palm and starts jerking off in earnest. “Hey, boss,” Jesper mutters, and when the head jerks up Jesper blows him a tiny kiss.

“What do you think about?” Kaz rasps.

“I just look at you. That’s enough. I like your face.” The tiny quirk of his lips, the way his eyes dart back down. “What are you thinking about, boss?”

“I didn’t expect you to enjoy this as much.”

“Seriously, boss, I know you’re not that stupid. How many times—”

“Not me,” Kaz mumbles. He gestures obscurely at the room. Jesper. The wall. The floor. The floor again. “This. It’s—not proper. Demeaning.”

“I wasn’t feeling demeaned until you started talking—”

“I was going to make you my right hand, once I took over the Dregs. Not my whore—”

“You were?” slips out, small and breathless, before Jesper remembers that this is for Kaz. This for him to enjoy. The warmth expanding in Jesper’s ribcage can wait. “There’s nothing bad about this. You like it. I like it. I don’t see anyone else in this room, and even if—a very clever guy once told me that you don’t bow to the world. You make the world bow to you.”

☼

It’s scratching that wakes Jesper. Scratching like the sharpening of a knife, quick, impatient, desperate—but it’s Kaz who’s on watch right now, Kaz who found this shallow cave they’re spending the night in, and Kaz wouldn’t let any danger come this close unnoticed. Unfought. Kaz wouldn’t just leave Jesper to his fate—would he?

He wouldn’t. At least not yet.

Kaz is sitting at the mouth of the cave. The moon drenches his matted dirty hair in its white glory, his handmade trousers, his naked wiry chest. His chest which he hasn’t bared for a second since Jesper gave him the kefta, even pulling off the Sun Summoner chemise that they tore into threads while still wrapped up in both of his coats: but now he’s half-naked, head bending down to look at those tines sticking out of his clavicle. Those antlers, those keratinized tumours, those bone cancers. Whatever those mutations are, he wants them gone.

In the right hand, he’s holding the knife that Jesper made from buttons so they could cut the blanket into trouser-shapes. In the left hand, he’s holding one of the protrusions growing from his body.

And then, he starts hacking again.

Viciously, helplessly, like a sick rabbit mutated into its own trap. He misses, once, and the knife sinks into his collarbone: but silently he tears it out again and cuts at the cancerous bone, and the knife’s sharp but the only dents that Jesper can see are tiny, glowing, lighting up the knife that’s flecked with his own blood.

☼

Jesper stirs the potato chunks. Thankfully, the old hearth still works, at least after he and Inej fed it with firewood they brought from the market, and so he’s cooking potatoes in butter and water. He mashes them up with some heavy wooden implement he found in a cabinet, once they’re soft enough—he washed it of course; he doesn’t want to eat moth shit—and then Inej passes him a wooden board of carrots in neat small identical pieces. Show-off. Jesper loves her so fucking much.

“Careful, don’t let it burn,” she says, twirling her knife, and Jesper—well, he meant to stir the pot of what’s apparently becoming stamppot. He did. He didn’t mean to think of how he’ll get Inej and Kaz out of Ravka—

And that’s when Kaz limps into the kitchen. He wasn’t still asleep when Inej and Jesper went into town to get some food—as if the Bastard of the Barrel ever sleeps in, even when he’s far from his titular Barrel—but he begged off the trip. He told them to say they’re working for Johannus Rietveld, if they’re asked, who’s apparently inherited this farm, but—they weren’t asked a thing, anyway, and who knows what Kaz did in the meantime. Who knows what weird cover identity he’s cooked up that they haven’t yet had to invoke. And whether it’s weirder than the one Jesper just created.

Jesper gives him a tender little smile. “Had a good morning?”

“No.”

“Because of last—”

But Kaz can read Jesper at least as well as he can read himself. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he rasps. “You’re the least terrifying person I’ve ever met.” Which probably means Yes, I’m rattled, but I won’t take it out on you. Too much.

“Thanks, darling.” And obeying Inej’s sharp elbow, he goes back to stirring the potato mash, and the slices of rookworst smoked sausage she’s dumped into another pan as well. “We decided Inej needs a proper homecooked meal, now she’s free, and we both haven’t eaten anything worth eating for ages, either.”

“You cook?”

“I grew up with my Da. It was either him or me. We traded off, if you want to know, and I’m pretty good apart from when it mysteriously turns into charcoal. And we didn’t find any Zemeni spices in the Lij market—this isn’t Ketterdam, and this old trader I talked to, she said it’s because maritime traffic to Novyi Zem is down to trickles at this point there’s a real dearth of spices, she couldn’t get them at any reasonable price—”

“Don’t burn the stamppot,” Inej orders.

“Anyway, we found a recipe tacked to the wall behind the oven, so that’s what I’m making now. Something super Kerch. Stamppot—you’ve ever eaten it?”

Kaz makes a sound that’s deeply indecipherable. Jesper can’t even tell whether it’s mournful or happy.

“Anyway, we’re almost done. Spinach now, please—Inej made me stick to the recipe, you know—and then the fried sausage and some salt and… you’ll stay with us for lunch, right, even if it isn’t royal Little Palace fare?”

“We ate unseasoned burnt rabbits in the forest,” Kaz replies curtly. He’s gotten over whatever strange emotion took hold of him, then.

“Yeowtch, they were awful. Why didn’t you remind me to take them off the fire. I know how to smuggle us into Novyi Zem,” Jesper says, carrying the deep pot over to their chosen clean bit of floor. Next to the windowsill, so Kaz can sit down with a little less discomfort—the house has been cleaned out apart from the marriage bed, really, and making Kaz go in there now… Making Inej go in there now, when it’s where last night he and Kaz had sex… And it’s not like they were loud, but who knows what Inej read into them pacing around each other for an hour. This is much less awkward. Besides, Jesper’s recently had some great experiences with floors.

Inej doesn’t stop playing with her knife, even after she balances her stamppot served on woodboard on her knees and digs in with her slightly bent spoon. She hasn’t set it down all morning, even carried it into town when they went looking for something to eat, and while she’s been supervising Jesper’s cooking—making sure he’s reading the recipe, keeping him on-track, bickering with him over unclear or illegible instructions—she’s been twirling it around her fingers. A truly remarkable feat, given that it’s the piece of shit knife that Jesper cobbled together from coat buttons, and he didn’t know what he was doing at all except that it should probably be sharp. Inej really needs to talk him through the finer points of balance if she wants him to overhaul the thing.

“They’re not letting in any more refugees from Kerch, you said,” Jesper starts setting up the explanation for his ingenious plan, while he passes over Kaz’ portion and another spoon he dug out from the bottom of a cabinet and small-scienced back into shape.

“The rich Kerch started running first, when the Darkling advanced. Anyone who’d ever had a Grisha indenture… They probably got in. They had the money. As for the rest… well, we’ve all heard of what happened in Fjerda, unless we’re Jesper and too busy drinking and playing Makker’s Wheel—”

“Hey! I was trying to pay off your indenture,” Jesper complains, while nibbling on his surprisingly decent if underspiced potato mash. “I’m Zemeni. They’ll let me in.”

Kaz still hasn’t touched his food. He hasn’t put it away either though, hand cradling the board instead of throwing it at Jesper. Maybe it’s because he’s too curious about the plan. Jesper should have waited, but he was too excited, and now Kaz is frowning as he replies, “So you keep saying. How does that help us? I assume you wouldn’t leave the two of us behind, after all that trouble you took.”

It feels good, to hear him say that. Almost good enough to forgive that Kaz doesn’t like his lunch. “That’s where my plan comes in. I’ve finally figured it out. If we’re married—”

“We can’t marry each other,” Kaz rasps. Before Jesper gets too sad about that, he continues, “In case you haven’t yet learned to count, we’re three people now.”

“I know. That’s why I’ve been thinking it over for so long. But divorce exists, you know so I was thinking that our story should be—and I’ll write to Da, but I thought you should probably agree first—I married one of you and then fell in love with the other but I still loved both, so I was trying to—”

Inej coughs. Laughs. Yeah, she’s definitely laughing at him, and then she says, “You’re going to tell your father about your marriage in a letter—your multiple marriages, because not only did you get married without inviting him, you already traded in your wife for a younger, prettier model. You lothario!”

“If you think that Kaz—actually, are you younger than Inej?”

Kaz, spoon in mouth, glares down at him.

“I’m trying to save our lives here. I’d appreciate some cooperation! And Da will forgive me, when he sees how happy I am with my new bonebreaking gangster wife and my old knife-twirling gangster wife who I had to divorce for petty bureaucratic reasons. Do you like it?”

Another spoonful of stamppot disappears into Kaz’ mouth. His eyes are closed while he chews, and then he looks away. His voice is hoarser than normal when he mumbles, “It tastes exactly the way I—it’s good.”

“Better than unseasoned rabbit charcoal. Anyway, it might throw the Darkling off our scent some more, if we disguise Kaz as a woman—and don’t be sexist. Women come in all shapes and sizes, no-one’s going to suspect a thing. Also we’re from Ketterdam. If any woman like Kaz can marry anywhere, it’s here. It’ll be a scandal, if they refuse to honour our marriage. Letting a few poors drown outside Zemeni borders, sure, but breaking the mutual recognition of administrative documents?”

Jesper is actually pretty proud of his reasoning here. That makes it even more annoying when Kaz rasps, “No-one will ever believe I’m your wife. I can’t even touch you.”

“No-one’s going to believe I love you? Are you sure?” Jesper flutters his eyes up at Kaz.

“He has a point, Jesper. You won’t be the first desperate refugee forging a marriage to leave.” Inej twirls her knife again. “You’ll need to act the part.”

“We’ll just tell them the truth.”

“Which is?”

“You don’t want to be touched, and if they have a follow-up question, they’d better direct it to the barrel of my gun. I’m not letting anybody non-consensually grope my beloved Kerch wife. Never again. Not over my dead body.”

���Won’t they think it’s weird if Kaz—sorry, your beautiful Kerch wife doesn’t let you touch him?”

“I don’t care. I told you. Let the world bow to us. I love my ingenious, vicious Kerch wife, completely independent of any physical contact we may or may not ever have. I respect my stubborn loyal deadpan Kerch wife far too much to cross those boundaries just for social custom. Also, my sweet murderous Kerch wife has a mean right hook.”

“Thankyou for the demonstration of your acting skills,” Kaz rasps drily, scratching his spoon on his serving board for the last flecks of stamppot. “We’re not going to Novyi Zem, though. There are more amplifiers than just the Stag he forced into me, and we’re going to find the rest. I’m going to tear apart every miserable molecule in the Darkling’s body, cell by fucking cell.”

“And you just let me keep talking?”

“It was entertaining.” Kaz licks his spoon, and then the board. Any second now, Jesper will tell him there’s more left in the pot. “Write your Da. We’ll keep your plan as a backup, in case everything goes horribly wrong. You’ll need a ring, though, to make it official,” and Kaz starts rooting through the kefta pockets.

Jesper can’t breathe. Is Kaz really…? He can’t breathe until he looks at Kaz’ stretched-out, gloved hand, and—

“How the fuck did you steal that one?! I was just wearing it!”

[iamnightduchess]

ReinerxMikasa (ReiKasa) Extremely Kinky A to Z Ask Game (R20+) Headcanon #19

*Update: 24 March 2021

A continuation of this ask & inspired by this original post. Dedicated to @xrocketmanx for their amazing 💖 on my ko-fi page!

(A/N: ‼️WARNING‼️Graphic description of very explicit smut with potentially provocative images ⛔ Please don't click Keep Reading if you're below 20 🙅‍♀️ Sorry kiddos! To my more adult readers, please absorb this post's content with appropriate discretion & maturity)

(In complete Alphabetical Order)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

People expect Reiner to be the one who would jump off the bed immediately soon after when they’re done but on the contrary, he just loves lying there and holding Mikasa in his arms post-coitus. Although, they do sleep with Mikasa lying on his chest most nights. Mikasa wasn’t used to be held intimately in the first few months of their relationship, so the first time they made love, Reiner gave her the space that she needed before, during and after. It was Mikasa who finally initiated their first cuddle post-coitus after the next several weeks.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Reiner: Very confident of his physical appearance and in his skin. He really loves everything on and about Mikasa. He loves her body type the way she is - to him, hers is just perfect. But, his most favorite body part of hers he'd like to touch first every time he could is her hands. He just like holding her hands when he wakes up, winding down for the night & even when he's asleep.

Mikasa: This woman, despite having a bombshell athletic figure, still secretly feels insecure of the way she looks. She loves Reiner's biceps the most - at home, she'll sneak a quick peck or a nibble on his biceps when he's doing the dishes or making dinner. She also likes to snuggle up to him on the couch with his arm draped around her shoulders, sometimes until she falls asleep.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… lol)

She...swallows? 🙈 (holy shizz i'm not so sure of this one. Can't think of a suitable answer without being cringey 🤣)

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Reiner & Mikasa once had a quickie inside the changing booth during a beach trip with their friends. Reiner had also went down on Mikasa after dinner at his mum's place, right in Karina's laundry room because he 'accidentally' spilt some wine on her dress & wanted to get her dress cleaned up. He ended up having her as dessert on top of the moving dryer & she left her underwear there by accident.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

They were both not each other’s first lovers but when they first got together, the experience is like being with no other. They discovered new parts & points of not only their significant other’s physical & spiritual strengths but also their own respective preferences as well. Reiner’s quite a ladies’ man during his early years in the military but after a while, he got bored of the game. Meeting Mikasa, he realised he wants to play the game again but this time to win it for good. Mikasa has only been with one boyfriend since college & being with Reiner opened her eyes up to vast possibilities.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

No, Reiner doesn't do the Military Style despite being a military man 🤣 Missionary & Cow Girl are their standard starting positions. Despite Mikasa being very flexible, which gave them more advantage in attempting the more physically-challenging positions, but the following are their more favorite experimental ones:

Oasis

Basket

Watering Can

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

A little bit of both, no doubt. Reiner has a dorky sense of humor & Mikasa's odd humor makes for a good tension-breaking combination. Their foreplays always begin with a good laugh - with Reiner ghosting his teasing touches on her love handles. Gets her in the mood for some serious sexing every time.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

For both, the carpets matched the drapes. Mikasa tried Brazillian wax once and uhh...Reiner abstained for a week & a half because he prefers her au naturalé 🙈 He said it felt odd from what he's used to haha

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

There are days they’ll just have a quickie if they get in the mood while just chilling, watching TV together after dinner. Before the children came, they would always have slow, intense eye-gazing, tantric, unrushed lovemaking. After the twins came into the picture, they’ll be lucky if they can even have cuddle time together >D Mikasa doesn’t say “I love you” out-loud but showed it in the way she touches & kisses Reiner’s arm when he’s in the kitchen making dinner or when he’s giving the twins a bath.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Oooh...Reiner rarely does this after he dated Mikasa & married her. But he loves getting her to touch herself in the showers. While he watches.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Did i tell you about their muscle kink & how much they love each other’s muscles?? Roleplay :) They like to pretend they’re strangers meeting in a cafe or a hotel bar and later have a ‘pretend one-night stand’ with each other haha It keeps the flame burning! (i posted a oneshot on this.)

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Home: bedroom, kitchen and in his home office. In the showers too!

They're not one to do it in public but they did have several outdoor trysts on the back of his 4WD while having a romantic night under the stars.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going) haha can't help not including this gif

When Mikasa rubs one of Reiner's thighs, rest assured that his gears will be running. Meanwhile when Reiner nuzzles her neck and started caressing her abs, oh it's an on for her alright.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

⛔ Backdoors are a big N.O ⛔

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

They're both amazing givers... You know what it means: 34 + 35 🤫 Reiner would sometimes initiates when Mikasa's already asleep. Remember that Zoom Conference & online gaming session? Mikasa likes to get back at Reiner when he least expects it.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Both depending on their moods...quickies are usually fast pounding yet not too rough, Reiner respects Mikasa too much to ever be at risk of hurting her. Usually their lovemaking would be sensual & soul-bonding at the same time.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Mikasa prefers to wear pants when they ever go for outings, movie trips, hiking trips. But, she wears skirts when they're visiting their families for a reason: smoother access for quickies. The moment she walks down the stairs in a beautiful dress before they head to his mum's or her aunts', Reiner already knows it. They be getting freaky with a quickie later 🙈

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Reiner & Mikasa are very experimental in the bedroom. Sure, they don’t have frequent lovemaking but when they’re in the mood, fireworks are a guarantee throughout with different new positions ;) Risk-taker? Let’s just say Reiner’s virility and Mikasa’s flexibility provided a lot of perks in their love lives together (and some pregnancy scares too! before they were ready to conceive) Mikasa once gave Reiner head while they're stuck in traffic heading into a road block. He'd finished just before the the car in front of them pass the inspection 🙈

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Ooh boy, all night haha Rounds: 2 max at one time. Duration: At least 1.5hours X) They both are super fit, athletic people so one can expect their staminas to be nothing less than subpar. *cough* In Canon AU: Max 4 times or 1/3 of the night *winks* because supernatural & acker powers!

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

No, they don't 🙈

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Goes without saying: a lot. Mikasa likes to wear Reiner's tshirts/ dress shirts at home to tease him. While Reiner likes to wear his reading glasses a lot at home because that is one of her biggest turn ons from him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Mikasa's the quiet one between the two and the loudest she'd ever been was just a deep, heavy whimper. Reiner's the louder one that sometimes Mikasa would have to smother him when they're having a quickie 🤣

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Even after more than 20 years together, Reiner and Mikasa still make out like they're teenagers - pretending to sneak around and grinding in hidden, cramped spaces away from their kids.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Mikasa : Dynamite & powerful grip - thighs and you-know-what (even after 3 kids!)

Reiner : Thicc - ass & this man is packing. He has girth!

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being the highest: 15 🤣 There's something about getting Mikasa to relax and laugh during their chill time, that just instantaneously revved up their engines at the same time. Reiner is a very tender, romantic person & Mikasa cannot resist it when he starts to tell her how much he loves her & appreciates her. He likes to kiss her hand when they're just hanging out even with friends. Everything Reiner does is genuine & that warms her heart everytime.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Reiner would be the first to go out like a light & Mikasa just likes to rest her head on his chest and hear his beating heart & relaxed breathing. Mikasa thinks Reiner's little snores are adorable. But when they're just cuddling on the couch, Mikasa would fall asleep first & Reiner would carry her to the bed.

-------------------

A/N: I had a lot of fun with this & I hope you'll enjoy it too! Thank you so much for the support & love 💖 xoxo More asks to come!

[buckyswinterbaby]

Always By My Side — Chapter 1

Click here to read the Prologue.

Synopsis: The fates have spent millenniums correcting the daily mishaps that interfere with soulmates ever meeting. Will they find a way to bring together Bucky and Zara, two people separated by time and circumstance, just as they’ve done a thousand times before?

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Black!OFC Ziarah Heartwell

Warnings (will change with each chapter): flashbacks, PTSD, mentions of past sexual assault, angst, bits of fluff

Word Count: 3,791

Acknowledgement: I’ve created this AU alongside my best friend Taylor in roleplays, along with many of the plots and scenes that will be featured. I’m posting this with his expressed permission as we both continue to work on the story in our chat. Credit for its creation goes to both of us.

Please like, comment, and reblog (I love that shit). The divider was created by me, please credit me if you use it. The gifs are not mine. Click here to fill out the form to be added to my tag list!

Note: Here’s chapter one of my new series “Always By My Side”. It takes place in a soulmate AU where a bond is triggered when one or both halves experience a life threatening level of distress. The bond allows them to see imaginary versions of their soulmates to help support them while they wait to meet their other half. Just a warning, up until we reach the current time in the story, there will be significant time skips for plot progression’s sake. The time changes will always be labeled.

Addition: I said I’d tag you when I posted my WOC OFC story so here’s chapter one, @bucky-the-thigh-slayer !

[Bucharest, Romania -- 2016]

The Romanian streets were bustling with early morning energy as Bucky took the final steps outside of the clearly worn apartment complex that he had been calling home for sometime. He seemed unfazed by the sixteen year old girl practically jogging to keep up in step with his longer strides. He had grown rather accustomed to her presence and her commentary since she first appeared to him in 2014. It had been during his final brainwashing session with Hydra before they fell. He couldn’t help but view her as a banshee of sorts, harkening the end of what remained of his mental stability. He couldn’t fathom another reason as to why he would hallucinate an opinionated teenage girl.

Even so, he found comfort in their conversations and how at ease she seemed around him. Almost as if she had always been with him, a piece of himself that still saw the good that was left. Never addressing him with fear or apprehension, never as the monster and killer he was forced to become.

Her features were young and innocent, seemingly unscarred by life despite the bruises that graced her skin--which he was never sure why they existed. At first, he feared that she had been one of his countless victims who had returned to haunt him in her afterlife, though the theory became less likely to him as more time passed.

The defined coils of her hair were pushed up into a messy bun, edges laid smoothly to her forehead in defined loops. When she first started showing up, Bucky had attempted to make sense of the witty phrases and references that so frequently adorned her clothes but he had long since given up on ever understanding them. He had to admit that the shirt she wore that day, a middle finger painted with pink, yellow, and blue, was quite the fashion choice. Not that he could particularly judge with his similar pieces of clothing that were practically identical besides in color.

The pair made their way down the familiar stretch of pavement on their way to the outdoor market that Bucky had made a habit of visiting. He had found that a reliable schedule throughout his week helped him better grasp the passing of time, a fact that his companion had been informing him of for weeks before it finally seemed to click.

The girl’s nose clinked as they neared the fresh fish stand, just as it did every week. Bucky couldn’t help but chuckle at her childish antics as they were so few and far between for someone who seemed quite mature despite her appearance.

“It smells like cat food,” she whined, making a clear act of breathing primarily through her mouth as she jogged to keep up. “How are you not gagging?”

“Not all of us have the luxury of being a figment of someone’s imagination, Zara. If I start gagging, I have a feeling a few people will start to notice.” The man gave her a knowing look. Drawing attention to himself was the exact opposite of what he wanted during his brief outings. “Besides, I can’t say I’ve smelt cat food or have any intention to. So I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

Zara rolled her eyes as the smell began to dissipate the further they moved past the stand, her trademark smile working its way onto her features. “Could’ve had me fooled, I thought that was your guilty pleasure. I can’t say I’ve ever intentionally gotten a whiff, but when I feed the outdoor cats at my house, it’s kinda unavoidable.” She shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly as if it was the most natural thing in the world for an imaginary person to have their own home and animals.

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed as he narrowed his eyes down to her smaller form beside him. “You don’t have a cat because you aren’t even real,” he retorted. Somehow the idea that she could be real made her presence in his life even harder. The idea that she was just some girl he had passed by in the street or on a mission and his brain decided she’d make the ideal emotional support apparition.

“Who are you to declare that?”

“The creepy hundred year old man who hallucinates a sixteen year old girl, occasionally in her pajamas, for one.” His voice raised a bit louder than he intended, drawing the attention of a few nearby pedestrians. Bucky offered them an awkward smile before ducking back down under the bill of his hat and picking up his pace a bit. She couldn’t argue with his logic so she focused on keeping up until they reached their destination, the produce stand that had the best plums in the city, or so Bucky described.

Zara watched as he spoke Romanian with the merchant, only catching a few words she had learnt over the past few months from their conversations. She couldn’t help but smile at how effortlessly Bucky seemed to interact with the man and how it contrasted so starkly to how he acted when he first arrived in the city. Decades of next to no positive human interaction left the soldier awkward and clunky in his exchanges, often stumbling through questions and requests, or simply forgetting them altogether. It had taken a great deal of patience and metaphorical hand holding to build up his confidence and ease his anxiety on the matter.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to blend in, in fact he was almost too good at it at times. Over their conversations, she had managed to show him that yes, blending in made him go through the motions of life, which was better than nothing. Yet, the beauty of his life now and the freedom that came with it was that he no longer had to settle for simply surviving and he could instead use it as a chance to learn to live again. It started small, like convincing him to get a pillow and blanket for the mattress on the floor, to which they compromised with a sleeping bag. Soon came two pillows for the couch and a lone floor lamp that he shoved in the corner near his bed for the late nights when night terrors had him scribbling away in his journals. They were minor improvements, in truth, but the progress spoke volumes as Bucky worked on building a place that felt a bit more permanent than his last few hideouts.

Zara had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t even registered that Bucky completed his purchase and had moved to stand at the edge of the sidewalk. She approached him curiously, watching the way he hesitantly analyzed the seemingly anxious newspaper peddler from across the street. It was very clear something was wrong from the way his demeanor had changed.

“Buchanan?” Her voice raised a bit at the end of his name, concern now replacing her curiosity as he began to make his way to the stand. He either didn’t hear her--which she found unlikely--or he simply opted to ignore her as he picked up the paper, ocean blue eyes scanning over the headline. The color seemed to drain from both of their faces as they took the accusation in, not having to speak to know what it meant.

Bucky would have to pick up his life, yet again, and run. Find a new country, new home, and start the process all over again. The ex-assassin hardly seemed surprised at the realization, as there is no rest for the wicked.

[Boston, Massachusetts -- 2016]

Zara made her way down the hallway to her bedroom, an imaginary version of Bucky trailing along behind her. She let her book bag drop to the floor once she entered the room, stepping out of her shoes before flopping down onto the soft, sunflower themed duvet of her bed. A look of weightlessness overtook her features as she let the events of the day settle in. Today she would graduate with a PhD in Biomedical Engineering from MIT, top of her class. It was the culmination of years of pouring herself over every textbook her parent’s provided, testing out and early graduations. At only sixteen, Zara would join the ranks of some of the youngest individuals to ever receive a doctoral degree. It truly seemed unreal to her.

Emerald eyes drifted to where Bucky sat at her desk, his arms crossed loosely in front of his chest.

“I wish you could be there tomorrow,” Zara commented, propping herself up on her elbows as her fingers pulled at the frayed threads on the yellow quilt folded at the end of her bed.

A smile teased the corner of Bucky’s lips as he leaned back against her swivel chair, long hair swaying as he tilted his head to the left to look at her. “I will be there, maybe not in person, but I’ll be there cheering right along with everyone else,’ he assured.

“It’s not the same and you know it, Buchanan.”

“I know. Just try to focus on the positives. Tomorrow is your day, you’ve more than earned it.”

Zara nodded, though her disappointment was still evident. On the average day, Bucky’s seemingly invisible presence to everyone else but her came in handy. As she was willing to bet her parents wouldn’t be too keen on the amount of time she spent alone with the grown man, let alone if they knew who he was. The public’s perception of James Buchanan Barnes, who she had quickly identified him as, was low to say the very least. Though it was days like this that she found herself wishing the most that he could truly exist in her life outside of her mind.

She could never quite pinpoint why she began hallucinating him two years prior. Though, the time before and after her fourteenth birthday had flown by in a post traumatic daze so it was even more difficult to analyze. The aftermath of four older boys assaulting her in her own bedroom left her wishing to repress that portion of her life altogether. Zara squeezed her eyes shut as she felt the ghost of their hands on her body. Grabbing, groping, pulling and tearing at clothes. She had hardly seen them since their attack but her mind was still trapped in the room with them.The feeling took her back to meeting Bucky that night, or more so the Winter Soldier, as he appeared at that time.

Upon entering her room, Zara failed to notice the masked man sitting silently in the corner of the room, illuminated only by the small lamp on her bedside stand. When she caught a glimpse of the figure, her body jumped to it’s fight response, just as it had an hour or so before. The young girl grabbed the closest thing she could find, a textbook on advanced chemistry, and held onto it tightly before turning to face the intruder.

“You need to leave,” she ordered, her voice wavering at the end of the demand. Her green eyes only met a pair of dark glasses securely strapped to his face. She couldn’t make out any facial features to identify him by, as all but his forehead and hair was covered.

It wasn’t just his silence that sent an unnerved shiver down her spine. It was his demeanor, cold and nearly unresponsive to her presence and defensive stance. Had his head not briefly turned her way when she started to speak, she’d question if he even heard her at all.

A large gun, likely a rifle from what she could tell, was resting across his lap. His hands weren’t actively gripping it, but something told her he could take aim in the time it took her to breathe her next breath. A variety of handguns and knives were also visible from the holsters adorning his thighs. If he had this many weapons visible, Zara could only imagine how many he had stashed under his tactical vest and heavy boots.

Her green eyes followed where she believed his gaze had drifted. He seemed laser focused on the strip of light just barely visible from under her door as a roar of laughter could be heard from just outside. His hand moved to rest just over the barrel of his gun. The young girl analyzed him for another moment before lowering the textbook, while still keeping it tightly in her hands.

“Will you at least tell me why you’re here?” There was a hint of desperation in her voice, one that vocalized all of the fear she had been trying to hide. She was met with more silence, which quickly became deafening to her. She was afraid to make a move to get his attention again, naturally unsure of how he would react. Yet, at the same time she couldn’t relax, not with him in her space.

After another few moments of no response, she allowed herself to consider the possibility that he wasn’t actually there. She had just been through something horribly traumatic and it was entirely possible that this was her brain's way of coping with the stress and fear. That it had conjured some masked figure to sit at her bedroom door and keep all the bad away.

She knew how best to test her theory, but she recognized the risk that came with it as she picked up a neon pink highlighter that she had been using earlier that night. She gripped it for a moment while weighing her options, throwing it across the room only seconds later. She didn’t put too much force behind it, hoping that if it gently came into contact, he’d be less likely to be angry. The consideration meant very little as the marker passed straight through the man and knocked against the wall before falling to the floor. She watched as it rolled across the floor and disappeared underneath her nearby dresser, a bittersweet feeling washing over her. On one hand, he wasn’t real and couldn’t hurt her. On the other, she was truly alone and definitely going crazy.

“This is fine,” Zara tried to reassure herself with very little luck.

She was pulled back from her thoughts as Bucky called her name for the third time, snapping her back to reality. Their eyes connected for a moment as she attempted to ground herself again, focusing on the small changes between how he was now versus then.

He had since lost the mask and goggles, she remembered him removing them a month or so after he first appeared. His current casual attire contrasted starkly with the hard kevlar of the tactical vest she first met him in. His features were more at ease now, no longer reflecting the fear that she could only compare to an animal in captivity. While she wasn’t fond of the comparison, following what she had learned of the real James Barnes, it wasn’t entirely far off.

As if the world was reading her mind, she faintly heard the voice of the local news anchor from the living room directly below her bedroom. Her features scrunched as she focused in on hearing the report, only catching snippets here and there. The words explosion and Sokovia Accords were most of what she could make out along with what she could’ve sworn was the suspect’s name, James Buchanan Barnes.

Before Zara could even question it further, she found herself racing down the main staircase of their suburban home, sock clad feet skidding to a halt on the polished dark oak flooring. Her eyes widened as she took in the security camera footage that was believed to place Bucky near the scene of the crime. Despite having no real proof, something deep within her gut screamed that it wasn’t true. She knew him, maybe not the real version, but he’d never do that.

Imaginary Bucky followed her into the living room a minute later, his pace slow and relaxed in comparison as he shoved his hands into his pockets. Being held responsible for the most recent atrocity was honestly just beginning to feel like the average Tuesday to him. More than anything, it was Zara’s reaction that took him the most by surprise. Her unwavering faith and loyalty was unexpected and as he believed, undeserved.

He had committed unspeakable acts over the years and this was likely far from the worst he was accused of. Sure, they had grown close in the two years since he first appeared and he imagined that made it easier for her to block out the rest of the stories, since she knew at least some version of the person in question.

Zara was good, in every sense of the word. Of course she had flaws, but who didn’t, especially at sixteen. But he saw the way that she looked at the world with love and curiosity despite the violence and violations she had experienced. It was a strength of character that he truly wished he could grow to embody. Bucky couldn’t help but find it funny that he was left looking up to a teenager who hadn’t even passed her driver’s test yet; but she honestly had more morals and heart than most of the adults he had met in his life. All of those facts being true is what made her belief in his innocence all the more confusing.

His eyes fell to her father, Gabriel, as he sat on the couch to take in the evening news. The man’s head shook in what seemed to be disappointment, or maybe it was anger, Bucky honestly couldn’t be sure anymore. They had never spoken, as Bucky’s intangible form made communication with anyone other than Zara impossible, but he knew Gabriel was a black and white kind of person. He couldn’t help but accept that to anyone who didn’t know him, the evidence would be damning.

“They need to just put him down while they have the chance,” Gabriel scoffed, speaking to no one in particular while switching the flatscreen off before they could finish the broadcast.

“He’s not a wild animal to be euthanized.” Zara’s expression twisted in disgust at her father’s casual nature. “He’s a human being. If he's guilty, and that’s a really big if with how blurry that security footage is, he deserves a trial just like anyone else!”

Gabe turned to look over the back of the couch, clearly displeased that she would defend the man. “I’m in no mood to debate with you, Ziarah.” He rose from his seat and dropped the remote onto the foot stool before leaving towards his study.

Zara watched him leave, her eye practically twitching with each step he took. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, to make him see that there were likely more sides to the story than they were seeing but she knew that it was useless. Her father rarely took her opinions or beliefs to heart on things that actually mattered to him, a topic like this would truly be a lost cause.

She looked up at Bucky as he shook his head lightly, letting her tension fade away as she accepted that it was pointless. “It’s okay, Zar,” Bucky assured, his small smile wiping away any lingering doubts she had. “There are more important battles to pick with him. This isn’t a hill worth dying on.”

Zara would’ve liked to argue that defending her friend was more than a worthy cause but she nodded nonetheless.

“How about we go find your mom. I bet she’s already working on the cake for your graduation and knowing you, you can convince her to let you lick the spoon.” His tone was playful as he coaxed her into motion, the promise of sweets and a friendly face luring her into the kitchen behind him.

Hanna was busy mixing away the different batters she would need for the next tier, the sweet aroma of baked goods filling the air. She hummed lightly as she worked, creating her own personal mix of her favorite 80’s songs together in a unique medley. Her green eyes moved to the doorway as she heard Zara walk in, a bright smile overtook her features as she set down her mixing bowl.

“There’s my little scholar,” she praised, moving around the kitchen island to take her daughter into her arms. Her warm embrace was a welcomed escape as Zara melted.

“Momma,” Zara grumbled as her mother placed a series of kisses on her forehead. “I thought you stopped doing that since I was a baby.” While Zara whined, deep down she always loved her mother’s open displays of affection. Not that she was willing to admit it.

“That’s the beauty of you always being my baby. You’re never too old for me to embarrass you. Just be grateful that I’ve opted to do it now instead of at your party.” The woman grinned away as she moved back to her work.

Zara honestly couldn’t argue with the logic as she found a seat on one of the tall bar stools. She quickly lost herself in the pleasant conversion with her mother, happily opting to clean the excess batter and frosting off of the bowls and mixing spoons like the helpful child she was. Imaginary Bucky sat quietly at the kitchen table, watching the women as they fell into the usual banter and discussion. After they finished her conversation she quickly grabbed a snack and made her way towards the door.

“I believe you’re forgetting something,” Hanna reminded, sending Zara a knowing look.

She huffed lightly before turning on her heels to grab her blood testing and insulin kit, waving it at her mother knowingly. She quickly turned back around and left the kitchen, making her way back upstairs.

Bucky didn’t hesitate to follow after her, stopping only when he saw Zara staring in her old room, which now housed her older brother Daniel. He could practically see the wheels turning in her mind as she ran over the events that more often than not had her scurrying past said room without acknowledging it. It was easier to just pretend it didn’t exist.

A few more moments passed before Zara pulled herself back from the darker parts of her mind, focusing in on everything else in her life that was good and worth celebrating. She had known pain and a time in her life where she often considered if it would’ve been easier to just fade away, but she had made it through to the other side. She had a lot going for her now and that was enough to push her feet forward again.

Chapter 2

[tema-makes-art-sometimes]

002 | germano?

HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE

002 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

when I started shipping it.

No idea but it was a long ass fuck time ago. Liked it for years but didn’t really start enjoying it until I started writing Romano myself.

my thoughts:

This ship makes me so genuinely happy man. I know GerCanMano is my flag ship but I love Germano just as much and I at least have a few crumbs of content for them instead of the other which has none. Germano just like-- Seeing Romano in a healthy relationship and seeing Germany happy makes me happy.

What makes me happy about them:

I’m not one for slow burns all the time but Germano to me is one of those slow burn romances I really enjoy. Romano is a sassy and salty flirtatious gentleman who keeps measuring himself up to the big broad and awkward-but-gold-at-heart class president who doesn't understand why the guy gets so upset around him and tries his best to remedy the smaller man’s anger.

The two just slowly developing, starting as rivals with Romano wanting the attention from his brother that Germany gets (and possibly the smallest bit of envy about measuring himself up to ger in macho-ness) and Germany just wanting to understand Romano and just like- how he ticks. Them slowly bonding over the simple things, realizing they both love mechanics and gardening and cooking. Romano being impressed at Germany’s baking (bonus points if say Vene has been bringing home baked goods for ages and he thought they were just from a bakery Vene liked but it was just Ger trying to get rid of the food hes stress baking) and Romano getting to show off his cooking skills. Romano feeling a bit of pride when he makes Germany laugh at some shitty joke or snarky comeback, he just hears that little wheeze or chuckle under Germany’s breath and knows he did that.

Romano having a whole I wont say I'm in love crisis when he realizes hes falling for Germany because sure hes cute and all but like what no. My Romano is very flirtatious but emotionally withdrawn he loves to flirt around but he doesn't actually think about long term relations cause he never expects people to care about him that way so falling for Ger throws him for a loop. But he knows he has to make some decision on it because he can’t get Germany out of his mind but the thought of Germany saying no scares him more than anything else ever has and the thought of breaking Germany's heart makes him more angry than he thought he’d ever feel

Meanwhile Germany is a mess because he has no idea what hes doing all he knows is that Romano’s smile makes him melt and every time he thinks of the future he thinks about the two of them passing tools to each other over the hood of a car and kneading foccacia together and hes doing all of the research he can to try and perfectly convey how he feels and it only works when he for once throws out his plan and just speaks from his heart and stops over thinking everything. And its wholesome and personal and cute and Romano starts crying halfway through which freaks Germany out cause he doesn't want to force anything and oh god did i make you uncomfortable but before he can apologize and backpedal Romano just grabs him by the shirt and pulls him down into a smooch and for once in his life Roma doesn't instinctively jump and when someone reaches out to hug him.

What makes me sad about them:

That they get sidelined for other ships and that people cannot have Germany or Romano exist in a narrative without Veneziano having something to do with it.

Things done in fanfic that annoys me:

People assuming Germany and Romano would be abusive with one another because Romano acts snappy and dismissive around him when in reality he does the same exact behavior to literally everyone else; America, Spain etc. But Germany is the one that’s abusive, and not the others. Germany’s never been shown to hate Romano, confused and rolling his eyes at his insults sure but never hatred.

A lot of people take this in the direction that they hate or abuse each other or worse, like Germany would cheat and use both brothers. Which is just not true, let alone Romano is too much of a blunt mother fucker to let it happen. He wouldn’t take that. Being used or measured second to his brother is so common to him you think he would just lay down and let that happen? No. And Germany isn’t the sleep around without a care or being in a relationship with two people because he can’t decide which he likes more type the guys a romance moron he doesn’t know how to date one man let alone commit adultery.

Which sucks because things like the chauffeur strips show that Romano and Germany are on at least amicable if not friendly terms, Romano is just being Romano, he does the same pissy but nice energy that he does to Spain and America to Germany. And there’s so much there that could be played with, of Romano being reassured by Germany that he’s not this evil bad boy in fact his brother can be worse than he is, and Germany would know Vene has been attached to his side for ages he would know Vene at his worse. Romano showing off to Germany, impressing him that yes Romano can in fact work hard when he wants to and feels inclined to. Which would gain him respect from Germany because he’s so used to doing it himself it’s always a pleasant surprise when people help him or don’t leave him to do everything.

But often in fics this is squandered for the whole ‘Germany’s married to Vene but he’s in love with Romano oh no conflict drama’ and they never make him choose. Or worse he has him two time one and then the other which just isn’t even fucking in character. 90% of the fics I’ve found on AO3 have the under current of how does their relationship effect Vene, how does Vene feel about it or how is he involved and it’s so stupid. It’s only ever done with Romano, never to Vene, Romano is always treated like an extra or an asset to Veneziano and its never the other way around. People don’t write Gerita fics and have the whole story about how Romano feels about it.

Germany’s feelings toward Vene can easily be stated in that ‘he’s just my friend’ it’s so simple but instead often its paragraphs on paragraphs of Germany grappling with his feelings for both and I’m just not interested. If I wanted to read about Germany’s feelings toward Italy, I’d read a Gerita fanfiction. Also you can’t tell me that if Vene found out about the two being interested or even one of them being interested in the other he wouldn’t start playing matchmaker he absolutely would. Hell if you want that “conflict” have Vene be jealous he’s petty enough to do that!

I’m willing to take the L on this and admit I just have higher standards, but I just want a fic that has them in a relationship from the start or they build up to it but not have the fic end the moment they get together or have their first date. One that doesn’t focus on a side plot about Vene and Germany’s feelings toward Vene. Where they just get to be wholesome together, piece their feelings apart together, and develop their love for each other together.

TLDR: I’m very salty about Germano getting the short end of the stick and want to see more sweet domestic germano.

Things I look for in fanfic:

For it to exist and for it not to be a vector to talk about Veneziano’s opinions on their relationship. I just want wholesome content of Germany and Romano building a relationship or a life together, AU or Canonverse wise. The cute dates, working on cars together, gardening, baking and cooking-- Germany playing piano or flute while Romano sings. Them dancing together. Romano taking Germany out to tour and sight see. Romano forcing Germany to cuddle with him in front of the fireplace if they go up during winter to his place cause he hates the cold and his block of a boyfriend is very warm.

My happily ever after for them:

I don’t really think about happily ever afters for them cause as nations their lives move on, they can’t really have kids but they can live together, work together, love together and honestly that’s enough for me.

My kinks:

These will be below the cut, because of ns//fw mentions.

(general sex discussion, bd//m discussion, toys and other such ns//fw things.)

Romano is a bottom little pillow princess but despite that he has the most control in the bedroom. Germany doesn’t lack interest but when it comes to instigation it’s fewer and far between, Romano has more of a sex drive than him. Germany’s more into kinks than Romano, but he has trouble being confident enough to do it so Romano is often baiting him into it. He’s a brat who wants to be tamed and Germany doesn’t mind Romano being rough with him and vice versa.

Romano’s more used to rough and tumble, so when Germany is very slow soft and sincere he gets flustered really fast and can fall apart a lot quicker. He also will cry when Germany compliments him too much early in the relationship. They have a lot of safe words at Germany’s request so if either of them get too overwhelmed they have a safe out and will just vibe and cuddle until the other feels better enough to continue.

Romano will give Germany is rope bunny fantasies every once and a while and tie him up, he’s not into much more than handcuffs and collars but Germany enjoys it so he doesn’t mind. He loves when he can convince Germany into roleplay and let Germany get into a more confident ‘character’. His favorite things are bites and blowjobs. Leaving Germany covered in red marks and scratches is his favorite and he loves the rare sight of Germany squirming under him.

Germany loves to body worship Romano, and messages all of the messages. Romano doesn’t like Germany dragging it out but sometimes he can’t help himself cause he just loves how pretty Romano his and he wants to just touch him all over. He loves when Romano plays with his hair (at least in the bedroom), and since Romano is way more vocal than he is he loves coaxing little sounds out of him through different touches and kisses.

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Love In Sin

Chapter 5

Summary - Special Agent Winchester is forced to go undercover with his frenemy Special Agent L/N when they try to track down a notorious drug dealer. How will Y/N and Dean complete their task? Will their relationship worsen or will new feelings emerge between them?

Pairing -AU Detective!Dean Winchester x Reader

Series Warnings - Angst, Slow burn, Fluff, Implied Smut, Mentions of crime and drug, Swearing.

Chapter Warnings - Slow burn, Swearing

Word Count - 2.3k (this is probably the longest chapter in the series)

A/N - I was supposed to post this in two parts but here ya go folks!

Beta'd by the amazing @deanwanddamons (she is awesome)

The dividers by the talented @talesmaniac89

Series Masterlist

“I'm never organising a party again! I am exhausted!” you exclaimed sitting on the floor.

Dean let out a low whistle as he looked around the room full of streamers. He had been out to do the grocery shopping in the meantime. He came back with a bunch of food items and pie. That man really loved his pie.

“I knew you worked better with food in your system” he laughed.

“Shut up!” you grumbled, “we need to go and meet the neighbours now. Let them know about our party.”

“Now?” Dean raised an eyebrow at you.

“Dean, the party is tomorrow.”

“Why can't I get some alone time with my wife?” He pouted.

“What?”

“You know we haven't christened the bedroom yet,” he wiggled his brows, making you roll your eyes.

“Don't you think you are taking this undercover a bit too seriously?” Raising your finger, you poke his chest. He immediately grabbed your hand, pulling you close.

“I like roleplay,” he smirked. You jerked your handout of his grip and glared at him.

“Okay, okay. Let's go.”

You got up and went to your room to get changed into something better than the pants and oversized t-shirt you were wearing.

“Where ya goin’?” Dean asked, following you into the room.

“Get out, Winchester. I need to change,” you said and pushed him out of the room.

“You know I am your hus-” He started saying in a cocky tone, but was cut off by you yelling ‘Shut up’ to him.

You changed into jeans and a flannel and finally came out of your room.

“You look great.”

“Thanks,” you said blushing slightly. Can this man just stop complimenting you every now and then?

You and Dean approached the first house which was apparently Castiel’s .

You rang the doorbell and waited for someone to open the door.

“Yes?” A young boy of around twenty opened the door..

“Hey, is Castiel there?” you asked.

“Dad? Yeah sure. Wait here. Let me get him,” the boy said and went back inside the house, leaving you standing in front of the door which he had closed with a slam.

“Who's ask-oh hey! The Campbells right? That was my son, Jack. Come on in,” Cas said and gestured at you to follow him.

You went inside the house and took a seat on the couch. Castiel's house was beautiful. It was full of antique collections. There were also beautiful antique portraits on the wall.

“Hey! Cas told me you guys moved in here today. I'm Meg,” The woman greeted you both, and took a seat on another couch in front of you.

“Hey. Nice to meet you. I'm Y/N and he's Dean. You have a really beautiful house.”

“Thank you. It's all because of Cas. He loves to collect antique pieces and now our house looks like a museum. You just got married right? That's a really beautiful ring,” Meg said, glancing at the ring on your hand.

“Thank you but it was actually his choice,” you said looking at Dean, “so he deserves all the credit.”

“You two make a cute couple,” Meg grinned. You blushed at her words and nervously tucked your hair behind your ears.

“Thanks. We are actually here to invite you and Cas to our housewarming party. Tomorrow at seven,” Dean said.

“Oh we will be there, for sure!” Cas smiled.

“Awesome. So, as we are new here, can you tell us anything about the other neighbours?” Dean asked, hoping to get some information out of Meg and Cas.

“We have been living in this area for almost two years now. It may come off as a beautiful neighbourhood but actually it's the worst. No one talks to anyone and some of the neighbours are downright rude,” Meg said, clearly annoyed by her neighbours.

“Really?”

“Yes. There is Rowena. She lives two houses down from us. She is extremely sophisticated, she is the CEO of the company called Herbs and Magic.It's a company which produces organic skin care products,” Meg said. She definitely had a lot of information about the people living in the area.

“So, she is like the queen bitch,” you joked.

“No. Actually she is kind of polite. The queen bitch is Amara. She lives with her brother Chuck . I think you may know Amara. She worked on “Love in Sin” and a bunch of other films.”

“Yeah, I have heard of that film, not that I have watched it. This neighbourhood is really one of a kind,” you chuckled.

“Tell me about it,” Cas laughed along with you, “I don't know why Meg loves this neighbourhood so much. All the people who live here are assholes.”

“Hey! Not all of them. There is Mick Davies and Arthur Ketch - they seem like nice people and you know why I chose this place. It's easier to get to work from here.”

“Well Mick and Arthur haven't talked to us at all,” Cas rolled his eyes.

“Where do you work?” You asked.

“I work at Chuck's company.” You shared a look with Dean.

“Chuck Shurley? The producer of the film Love in Sin?"

“Yeah that and he is like the God of the business industry!” Meg exclaimed, "You know about the Carver Industries which deals with automobile manufactures?"

“Uh-yeah, of course we have heard of him,” Dean said, "Rich neighbourhood!"

“Anyways, thank you so much Meg. We have wasted a lot of your precious time. We should go now. We have others to invite too,” you said and got up from the couch.

“It was so nice to talk to you. Let's meet up some other time. You know, just a girl's day out,” Meg said.

“Definitely! I love to have a girl's day out with you,” you said and Meg pulled you in a hug.

“And they are already making plans,” Dean joked, making Cas laugh out loud.

You and Dean left the Novak household and went to invite the other neighbours - all of them definitely lived up to their reputation.

“Well, that was interesting. The Novaks don't seem like someone to be the right hand person of Crowley. Rowena is the CEO of a company - why would she need to be partnered up with a drug dealer? And the Shurley’s? How did the bureau forget to mention such an important detail?” You asked.

You had ordered a pizza because you neither had the energy nor the will to cook.

Dean hummed at your words and bit into a slice of pizza. “We need to keep a close eye on all of them. The Shurleys are our top priority.”

“Yup,” you said and noticed Dean typing on his phone after he was done eating.

“I have briefed Mr. Singer about today's incidents. Let's call it a night. We have to be on our toes the whole day tomorrow,” Dean said, making you nod in agreement.

Your eyes trailed up his body as he stretched his hands, his biceps flexing under the thin material of his unbuttoned flannel. You continued to stare as he yawned and shook his head.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Dean said, a stupid smirk on his face. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you blushed at him - this man was surely doing things to you.

“Shut up,” you grumbled and left to go back to your room.

“Night!” You heard Dean call out to you.

“Night,” you replied to him.

You woke up in the morning to find an arm draped over your stomach. You froze when you realised it was Dean's arm. What was he doing in your bed? You remember clearly you went to bed alone in your own fucking room.

Dean was still asleep. He was spooning you from behind, his hot breath fanning against your bare skin which was not covered by your tank top. Goosebumps erupted on your skin. So he was a cuddler - no that's not the important thing now. Why was he in your bed?

You tried to remove his arm from your stomach and started to stir beside you.

“Hey, morning,” Dean said in a gruff voice. You looked back and saw him greeting you with his eyes closed. Damn that son of bitch for looking like a model from one of the fashion magazines in the morning whereas you looked like you had just fought a war.

“Morning. What are you doing in my bed?”

“You don't remember?” Dean asked, finally opening up his eyes - he really did have beautiful eyes.

“Nope,” you said, popping the ‘p’.

“So all that effort went to waste? Awesome,” Dean groaned and rolled to the other side of the bed.

“What happened Dean Winchester?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You had a nightmare. I woke up to hear you yelling and then your gorgeous mouth started saying my name. I tried to wake you up but you had turned into a sleeping beauty and I was too tired to kiss you awake so I climbed into the bed with you and voila! You calmed down and I think I fell asleep here,” Dean shrugged.

You observed him for a moment. He was straight up lying to you. If you had a nightmare that bad you would have remembered it. Why was he lying to you or maybe you really didn't remember? You wanted to ask him, but instead decided to drop the subject.

“Well then thanks. My nightmares are pretty intense,” you played along, “ready for today?”

Dean nodded and got out of your bed but stopped at the doorway and turned towards you.

“If you want to talk to me about your nightmares, I'm here for you, sweetheart,” he gave you a small smile.

You both got freshened up and Dean offered to cook you breakfast. You came down to the kitchen after some time to find Dean setting a plate of homemade waffles on the table.

“Smells nice in here,” you said.

“It tastes even better,” Dean gloated.

“Okay smartass,” you mumbled and sat down at the table. You ate a piece of the waffle.

“God Dean, these are so good,” you moaned, “you are an amazing cook.”

“I know,” Dean chuckled when you kept moaning after eating every piece of the waffle. You looked up at Dean and saw the tips of his ears had turned bright red and he was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. You immediately became embarrassed when you realised what you were doing. Your face became hot with embarrassment.

Dean cleared his throat and got up from his chair.

“I am going to take a shower,” he said.

“But you didn't eat your waffles.”

“I-uh,” he cleared his throat once again, “I'll eat those later.” Dean left the room in a hurry. You kept eating your breakfast in silence and decided to take a shower and get ready for the day after you were done with your food.

You went up to your room and grabbed a pair of fresh pants and a sweatshirt. You made your way towards the bathroom but before you could go into the shower, you collided with Dean, falling ungraciously on your ass.

“Shit, sorry,” he said and extended his hands at you.

You looked up at Dean and swallowed hard. He was shirtless and only in a towel. He had just come out of the shower and his hair was still wet, tiny droplets of water lining his hair and chest. You grabbed his hand and he pulled you up to your feet.

“Sorry, fault’s all mine. I-” your eyes travelled down to his body. You saw him smirk a little. That cocky bastard.

“My eyes are up her L/N,” Dean said.

“I-I should go,” you said, picking your belongings up from the floor and going to the bathroom.

The rest of the day until the party started was uneventful. You lazed around the house, occasionally asking about each other's lives and discussing about the case. Dean said since he was ‘the best husband in the world’ - his words, not yours- he would cook for the guests and you agreed with him, knowing you were a terrible cook yourself.

It was almost an hour before the party started, so you decided to start dressing up for the party. You decided to keep it simple and also because you had one dress with you. You chose a navy blue cocktail dress and paired it with some blue earrings. You looked at yourself in the mirror and your attention went to the diamond ring on your finger. It was for a job, but it still felt weird to look at the ring.

“You ready?” Dean knocked on your bedroom door.

“Yeah.”

“People have started to co-” Dean's words got stuck in his throat as he let his eyes roam your body.

“You,” Dean cleared his throat, “you look beautiful sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you bit your lip to stop the blush which was threatening to spread on your face, “I'm almost done.”

You gave the final touches to your makeup - you chose to go for a light makeup. You took your phone from the nightstand and stepped your foot out of the room but was immediately pulled back by Dean, turning you around so fast that you almost had whiplash.

“Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you,” Dean said, “we are newly married, we should be a little handsy - honeymoon phase, as they call it. Maybe we have to kiss when we are downstairs,” Dean reasoned.

“Okay,” you said, nodding your head.

You left the room, swaying your hips a little but you couldn't hear the groan that left Dean’s lips.

“Hey gorgeous! You look lovely,” Meg exclaimed and pulled you into a hug as soon as she saw you coming down the stairs. That girl was such a hugger.

“Thanks Meg. Right back at you.. Where's Cas?” You asked looking around the room.

“Looking for me?” Cas popped up behind you, startling you, “you guys got yourself a lovely home.”

“Thank you guys!”

“Hey! Sorry but can I borrow Y/N for a second?” Dean came down the stairs and asked your neighbours.

“Yeah sure, Campbell,” Cas said and you followed Dean into a secluded corner of the house.

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