#it means so much to hear you enjoyed the most recent chapter

[hero-deserves-to-be-happy]

hihi! same anon as last time, wanted to leave my thoughts on the latest chapter ^^

something I notice, this taking place earlier on in the timeline than the other pieces in the series (of which I've reread a fair few times! hope that isn't an offputting thing to admit, I just really like your approach to these characters :D), is how lonesome and subdued he is at this time. I particularly really like that second paragraph listing off everyone's wishes for him that we've seen up to this point (and noting his parents' hpes too really sits with me- gosh, how worried they'd be for him over the past few years...) and I like as clumsily they go about it how determined his college friends are to cheer him up in some regard. even if they don't know the extent of hero's struggles, they invite him along and want him to have a good time too. it's for their benefit too but it's still sweet to see

my heart hurts for him in that stretch of them trying to sell him on playing the romance game, what a subject to navigate... I'm curious what CJ and Kyle took away from his mood slipping alongside his admittance of having been kissed, if anything. guess it'll be a wait and see :o

and even though as you've noted this is largely set-up to the party itself, I really like the hopeful note you close out on here. the smallest choices, little moments of courage, really add up. you just have to see where they take you, sometimes.

great work with this!! I eagerly await more however and whenever it works out, and I send my well wishes to the two of you- hope you both have a lovely day!! - 🩶

Oh my goodness! 🥺 Thank you so much 🩶Anon-Friend! Your ask was so sweet and means so much to us, especially after the struggle it has been to get this set of chapters ready for posting. It made our days to get to read your thoughts on the latest chapter! Thank you so much for taking the time to share with us!! 💖

Before we address your lovely specific points on the newest chapter, we wanted to reassure you that there is not and is never anything off-putting in reaching out to us and in telling us you have reread our little stories. It is so incredibly flattering to hear that not only did you give our fics a chance and enjoy them but also that you loved them enough to reread them. It's so encouraging and honestly has us tearing up a little! 🥺💙Seriously, it's the greatest compliment to hear that you were so impacted by something we created that you wanted to read it more than once. Do you have a favorite story in the series so far? (No pressure to answer, of course. We were just a little curious).

Thank you also for saying that you love the way we write the characters! We both love OMORI and all of its amazing, dynamic characters so much (Hero especially) so it is always our goal to do them justice whenever we write about them. To hear other people enjoy our interpretations and it's not only us who see these characters in this way is always so encouraging. Thank you so much for that!

Thank you again for supporting our “When Sun Shines Again” project and for reading our latest chapter! We apologize it was short and that not a lot happened (that's why we didn't have our word of thanks to you in the author's note. We were always planning to put it in the next one where things actually happen & apologize for the delay 🙈). After several months of writing and rewriting, editing and reediting, however, we decided to post some of it (if only so Acacia would stop editing and finally move on). It means so much to hear that you enjoyed it! We've addressed your specific points under the cut (because this post got really, really long), but thank you so much again for such an incredibly kind ask! We appreciate you and your support so much. Please take care of yourself and we wish you a fantastic day as well! 💙

Honestly squealing a little that one of your big takeaways from this chapter was how lonely Hero is at this point in his life. We tried so hard to make that a major theme in the work thus far, so it means a lot to hear that that stuck out to you especially in comparison to stories that take place farther in the future. One of the biggest inspirations for this story has always been this line from One Day Left:

Hero really is so lonely, and it goes beyond just the loss of the best friend he had in Mari. He can't open up to others in the same way that he used to. He feels he has to protect Aubrey, Basil, Sunny, and Kel who are dealing with their own grief. He is terrified of worrying his family, and he struggles to tell any new friends he makes about his painful past. He doesn't show anyone the whole picture anymore--doesn't show those broken parts of himself. For any relationship to truly develop, there has to be a level of vulnerability, a moment where you allow someone else to truly see the real you. Hero doesn't want is anyone to see him anymore. By never letting anyone in, he thinks he is preventing himself from ever hurting or burdening others, but what he is really doing is preventing himself from ever being truly loved.

What was more important to both of us in writing this series wasn't that Hero opens himself up to romantic love again but that he opens himself up any love: to the love of his family and friends. We want him to allow people to know him, to see him, and to love him again, so he doesn't have to be alone anymore. We want him to heal his relationships with his old friends and his family, but also to open himself up to new friends too which is how the cast of this story became so much bigger than just one OC love interest. Yes, it's the name of the blog but we truly believe that Hero deserves to be happy and it's our hope that that he can find that happiness in building meaningful relationships with people who truly care about him (even in a purely platonic sense).

Hero's family & friends know and wish this too (in our opinion) which is why they are worried and why they want so desperately for him to make friends at school. It means so much to hear you specifically mention that second paragraph of this chapter where Hero thinks of his loved ones' wishes for him. [A/N: Sprinkles wants to specifically thank you for mentioning Hero's parents and how deeply worried they are about him as that's something that (we both feel) often gets overlooked or misinterpreted so it means a lot to hear that that really struck you! Always excited to find fellow "Kel & Hero's Parents are flawed (as all human beings are) but they genuinely love and care about their kids and are trying their best" Truthers out there!] All those wishes were all intentionally included in the previous chapters to build up to this section of the story and everything that comes after because Hero building these friendships, finding this sense of community, and opening himself up again is one of the most important themes of this story.

And in that way, you're absolutely right about Hero being much lonelier at this point in the timeline than in the other stories in this series. From the beginning we've had this detailed outline/timeline of the "When Sun Shines Again" universe and when we [A/N: mostly Acacia who has a bad habit of wanting to write out of order] work on spin-off stories, we tend to have a specific point on the timeline in mind to set that story in. It's so encouraging to hear that there is such a noticeable difference in how lonely Hero is in this early part of the timeline than in the later ones when he has cultivated these friendships and allowed himself to be vulnerable with them. That vulnerability is really the key. For instance, you mentioned Kyle and C.J. and their reactions to Hero's unexpected shift in mood, and the real issue for Hero there is that he can't explain because he isn't ready to open up about Mari yet. Eventually when/if he is ready to tell his friends about her, those kinds of misunderstandings will become less of a problem.

We loved what you said about his friends being determined to cheer him up a little bit. That's exactly what we were going for! And it means so much to us that you've mentioned Kyle and C.J. specifically here as if they are real characters. We worked hard on them so it really means a lot! Eventually they will learn at least some things about Hero's history and Mari (not sure if that's a spoiler or not), but despite them (especially Kyle) being goofs, they really do care about Hero and would be a lot more sensitive if they knew his past. In that way, it's kind of a good thing they don't know because the rest of this story kind of depends on them being a little more pushy (at least to the extent of getting Hero out of the house to this party, but more on that in the next chapter...)

We apologize for that the sadness in that bit about poor Hero remembering Mari and their relationship and kind of swearing off romance forever. We were kind of worried it would come off as a random tangent (even though we know/hope it'll be relevant later), but ultimately, we decided to keep it if just to reiterate the point that Hero is absolutely not ready for that right now and is not going to be ready for a long, long time (which I'm sure you know if you've read the other fics in this series). We actually kind of had to laugh about it the other day because we are now 43,805 words into this story and Hero hasn't even met the girl who will eventually get him to open his heart to love again. As Sprinkles says, "This takes slow burn to the next level."

But we feel strongly that it has to, just by the nature of what it is. Hero loved Mari so much. He wanted to spend his forever with her and genuinely cannot imagine ever wanting that kind of relationship with anyone else at this point. To gloss over that or speed through it really feels like a disservice to him and to how deeply he loved Mari and is still grieving her. Finding healing and opening his heart again is a very long, complex, and often painful process. It can't be rushed, and thanks to Sprinkles who insisted we turn this story idea into the proper epic it deserves, hopefully it won't be here (A/N: it was originally only supposed to be 5 chapters spanning the same length of time but just in less words/scenes, but Sprinkles wisely decided we needed to let the story breathe and take its time!)

Lastly, we are so thrilled to hear that you liked the hopeful ending of this chapter and the reflection on the small seemingly insignificant moments in life that have major impacts. We absolutely agree with your analysis that sometimes we really do have to see where those little moments of courage take us (and we absolutely adore the poetic way that you've worded that too). That's always been such a big takeaway from OMORI for us especially when we think about how (arguably) the most important part of the game (those Real World segments) are sparked by the seemingly insignificant choice to go outside with Kel. If the player chooses to ignore Kel's knocking, they'll end up in Hikikomori and the "True"/Good ending will be impossible to them which in a way (or at least in our opinion) makes it the most important decision in the game. But it's so deceptive precisely because you don't expect the most important decision in a game to be opening the door for your friend. We wanted to bring that kind of sentiment into "When Sun Shines Again" as well and emphasize these little moments that end up having huge impacts on Hero's life and his future.

You've probably guessed by the amount of music references in "When Sun Shines Again" that we have found a lot of inspiration for this series in music, and there is a song called "Something Changed" by Pulp [YouTube Link (A/N: The song title is the Spotify link)] that perfectly sums up this sentiment (A/N: Acacia listens to it a lot while writing). It's this love song from 1995 (so appropriate for the time period here) that's really about "perfect timing" and how it's not these little moments that bring these people together. The song is really the singer reflecting on these seemingly insignificant moments that unexpectedly changed his life and how he wasn't expecting to find love but somehow everything just fell into place and "something changed." Here's a few of our favorite lines:

"Oh, I could have stayed at home and gone to bed I could have gone to see a film instead You might have changed your mind and seen your friends Life could have been very different but then Something changed"

That's probably a good wrap up place before we start rambling about spoilers (not sure if you care too much about those, but we've tried to avoid them just in case 😅). We're hoping to get the next two chapters wrapped up and posted this week. We have no idea if this is even possible but we're going to try. (Acacia is determined to get poor Zoey into this book by her birthday so wish us luck!). The encouragement and feedback we've received from you is such incredible motivation to get these chapters finished and posted though, so thank you so much for that and for all of your support!

We are so delighted that you've enjoyed our stories and are so humbled and flattered that you think so highly of our "When Sun Shines Again" series. Merely saying thank you does not feel like enough, but thank you so, so much for this! Please don't hesitate to stop by our inbox any time to talk with us. We're always happy to discuss this project, our OCs, or anything Hero related (honestly, anything OMORI related within our blog rules really even though this is a Hero-centric blog), so please don't be shy or a stranger. Sending much love to you, 🩶 Anon-Friend!

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 24] The Truth

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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“What are you going to do with him again?” Satoru asks as you get ready to meet up with Suguru. He talks as if he has any right to know. You’re finishing up your makeup in your room while he stands in the doorway.

“Does it concern you?” You look back at him. And he sighs before shaking his head. He guesses it doesn’t. He can’t argue with you about it, yet he stands there, leaning on the doorframe. You finish putting on your lipstick before looking back at him and raising your eyebrows, “Aren’t you going to Ren? He’s waiting for you to talk about his birthday plans.”

“Right…” Satoru answers, turning around and going to Ren. He finally leaves you alone with your thoughts, finally not having to listen to his stupid comments. As much as you don’t enjoy his presence at the moment, you still have to tolerate him because of your son.

Slowly you are seeing his point of view, but that doesn’t mean you forgive him. Satoru was young, easy to manipulate– Well, you aren’t exactly focused on his age but more about the fact that Satoru was recently grieving the loss of his father and in a way felt threatened that he would lose everything simply for not following orders. What hurts you the most right now is that he didn’t even try to explain the situation to you, he assumed you were better off going your own separate ways.

“Mommy!” Ren comes running into your room, disrupting the peace that you were just granted. You look at the puppy eyes that adorn his face, and you already know he wants something. You allow him to speak first, not wanting to accuse him of something that he might not even do. But you’re proven right, “Can I get a puppy for my birthday?”

“Remind me how old you’re turning, Ren.” You tell him, and Ren holds up five fingers, a grin on his face as he shows off his big age. You fight back a smile, trying your best to remain as serious as you can possibly be. You won’t be easily convinced by him. “Five. Such a big age, right? But not enough to take care of a puppy, plus you’re starting school soon.”

“School?” Ren asks as if it’s the first time he hears of it. You’ve been preparing for him, telling him about it daily.

“You know, the place where you’ll be going to learn and make friends for the next thirteen or so years of your life.” You answer, and his mouth turns into a circle when he remembers. “Who’s going to take care of the puppy then? I still have to work.”

“Granny.” Ren answers, and you chuckle as you shake your head. Your mother isn’t exactly a big pet person, if you were to give her the responsibility of taking care of a puppy, she might just kill you. He puts his hands together and begs, “Please, mommy, please! I want a puppy!”

“Ren, we both know that–” You begin, but you realize you’re just wasting your breath. You look at the time, realizing that if you don’t finish up soon, you’ll be late. “Talk to your father about it, I have to finish getting ready.”

“Daddy!” Ren yells as he walks out of your bedroom. Maybe you made a mistake since Satoru loves to spoil Ren, and Satoru doesn’t like to think of additional responsibilities since he’s not the one that’s at Ren’s side at all times.

You’ll deal with it when Satoru attempts to get Ren a puppy, for now you’re going to focus on your own problems. Your own problem being your meeting with Suguru.

You wait for Suguru at the café near your apartment. You have a beverage in your hand, taking an occasional sip, making sure you don’t finish it before Suguru finally decides to show up. Your eyes are glued to the door, waiting for him to finally make his grand entrance. 

You feel the nerves creeping through all of a sudden, and you have no idea why. Maybe it’s because you lied to him about Satoru, or maybe it’s because you’ve been avoiding his calls. You take a deep breath to calm your nerves, looking at the time. If he doesn’t get here within five minutes, you’ll leave. He’s running late, and you have no intention of waiting for him all day.

In reality, you’re just looking for an excuse to leave. You want to avoid this confrontation as much as you can, but you know you have to face him eventually. Suguru has been one of Satoru’s closest friends, and you were close to dating, the least you can do is give him one last conversation. You can’t avoid him forever.

Your eyes shift back and forth between the time and the door, mentally praying that he doesn’t show up. However, your prayers go unanswered when he walks through the door, his eyes immediately landing on you. He gives you a soft smile as he approaches your table.

“Hi, Suguru.” You try to return his smile, but it looks awkward. Suguru points at the counter, telling you that he’s going to get his beverage before sitting down with you, to which you nod in response. You take another deep breath, trying to calm yourself. He looks fine, and you hate to ruin his day– Perhaps he won’t care, but you doubt it. You told him a very serious lie about his best friend, you doubt he’ll be too happy with you after finding out.

“It’s so nice to see you after… So long.” Suguru sits across from you. You shift in your seat, adjusting your posture before focusing on him. You nod with an awkward smile on your face. At that moment you know, this is going to be a long hour.

“It is.” You agree before a long awkward pause ensues. You clear your throat, about to ask him how he’s been holding up, but Suguru has other plans when he speaks up before you,

“Why have you been avoiding me?” He goes straight to the point. There’s a reason why you two are there, and it isn’t for small talk. Maybe you can get to more fun matters later or another day, but not right now. 

“I’ve just been busy with Satoru and figuring out this whole parent thing, that…” You begin with an excuse but you can’t finish the sentence. You bite down your lip before you take a deep breath. You have to say it, if you keep dragging it you’ll feel worse. “I partially lied to you. Satoru never suggested an abortion at the thought of me being pregnant, I didn’t tell him because he didn’t give me the chance to, and then I couldn’t tell him because… His mother didn’t want him to know.”

And he chuckles. Suguru lets out a laugh, which makes you furrow your brows. You expected many different reactions, but not a laugh. You chew on the inside of your cheek, anxiously waiting for him to say something else.

“Is that why you haven’t been answering my calls?” Suguru asks, and you hum in response even though it’s not all. He lets out another laugh, and you want to ask why he laughs but you decide against it. You wait for him to finally say something else, although time feels as if it slows down. “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

“Huh? What do you mean?” You sound utterly confused. What the hell is he talking about? How would Suguru know?

“I knew. I asked Satoru what he would’ve done if you had gotten pregnant and he said he would’ve stayed by your side.” He answers, and you let out a sigh of relief knowing that the situation won’t be the big mess that you were expecting. You do still feel guilty about it. “I mean sure… Satoru could’ve lied to me, but I don’t think he would have.”

“Why didn’t you say anything about it?” You’re curious as to why he decided to remain silent about this of all things. It’s a serious matter, which you would’ve expected him to furiously call you to berate you about. But you guess the man that sits across from you isn’t that type of person.

“You lied to me to protect your ass, and I can’t really blame you for it.” He shrugs, and he could’ve left it at that and it would’ve ended up perfectly fine. The conversation could’ve ended there and you would switch the topic and talk about more lighthearted stuff. But Suguru makes sure to add, “Plus Satoru also lied to you so you’re even, I guess.”

“Do you know?” You question, wondering why he brings up the fact that Satoru lied to you as well. You watch his cheeks turn pink when he realizes his words.

“Know what?” He stutters, which says all you need to know. He knows. For how long has he known? He realizes immediately that he’s messed up. He gave himself away.

“For how long have you known?” You immediately ask, and Suguru tries to play dumb, he claims he doesn’t know what you’re talking about, making a fool of himself. You’re clearly mad, but you try to not let it show through your tone. You try to take deep breaths.

“You can say we’re kind of even…” Suguru scratches the back of his head, but that’s not enough. You’re not even because the situation with Ren had nothing to do with him, at least in your eyes. Yes, you lied to him, but it was your business, something that had nothing to do with him.

“Does Shoko know too?” You scoff, and it’s merely a joke, but Suguru bites down his lip before commenting,

“I mean, considering the fact that she’s sleeping with his wife, probably.” Which makes your eyes widen. It’s shocking, but it makes a lot of sense. You’re still speechless. “Satoru told me… A while ago.”

“I guess we’re even then.” You let out a chuckle, but it’s not humorous. You’re clearly… Annoyed. “But I think… I had different plans for us, and so did you. But we should remain as friends.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He asks, confused why you say that. He knows you’re mad, but what you’re making is a rash decision. “You don’t mean what you’re saying, you’re just upset because–”

“No, I know what I’m saying. Suguru, I lied to you so I guess I shouldn’t be too mad but I am. And I lied to you about Satoru, and… We shouldn’t be together, I feel like we started this off wrong.” You respond, and it almost hurts to say. 

“But we can start over again without lies and–” He begins, and you cut him off.

“Let’s try to give it some time before even thinking about that. I’m not really in the right headspace for a relationship.” You answer truthfully, and he furrows his brows. He doesn’t know why, but that ticks him off.

“I bet you’ll end up choosing Satoru again.” He sounds bitter, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Of course he says that, he assumes you’re so in love with Satoru that you can’t have a relationship with him. Suguru thinks too mighty of himself. “Explains why you so adamantly ignored my calls, and why you were on vacation with him–”

“I have a son with him, Suguru. Of course I’m going to do shit with him.” You interrupt him, standing up from your seat. He has his arms crossed, looking almost like a pouty child because he isn’t getting his way. He almost reminds you of Satoru. “I told you we should give it time before we even begin to think about it. Don’t make your case worse.”

He keeps silent while you walk away, deciding that you’re right. He isn’t going to make his case worse. 

“How did it go?” Satoru seems as if he has been waiting by the door for you the entire time. 

“He knew?” You immediately ask, and he nods in response which makes you roll your eyes. “Everyone knows shit except me.”

“I can say the same about Ren.” Satoru argues, which is a great point, but you won’t admit it. You hand him your purse, as if he were your own little butler, and he proceeds to take it to your room.

“Where’s Ren?” You half-yell, and the man shushes you, which earns a weird look from you. There’s no way he actually got Ren to fall asleep… But for what other reason would Satoru shush you?

“He’s asleep.” Satoru informs you when he walks back, and you want to question what kind of sorcery the man is doing to make a boy that hates taking naps, fall asleep. You do appreciate it though, so you won’t complain.

You two awkwardly stand around, not sure what to speak about next since Ren is asleep. There’s something that comes to mind, but you’re not sure how appropriate the question is. Ren is asleep, so there shouldn’t be an issue, however, you don’t want to overstep any boundaries.

You still clear your throat though, “Did you know that Shoko was–”

“I know.” Satoru chuckles. “Right when we got back, Shoko dug her claws into her– Or Sayo did.”

“Were you upset when you found out? I mean, when we first saw each other again you called her love.” You bring up, walking over to the couch to take a seat, and he follows behind. Satoru takes a moment to think, and properly formulate his answer. He sighs before speaking up,

“I guess, for a moment I thought I loved her. I’m very fond of her, and I confused my adoration for her as love. She knew what I was going through, and she was always sweet to me, we could make each other laugh. Overall, we got along.” He explains, and you listen attentively. You’ll do anything to gain a little bit of perspective into his mind. “We just had each other, and that was that. But then you came into my life, and I remembered what love felt like.”

You feel your face get warm, and you look away from him. Maybe Suguru is right– You can’t let him be right. Satoru still committed a lot of bad actions. 

You stay silent and let a minute pass before speaking up again, changing the topic, “It’s not just Ren’s birthday coming up, but also yours. What would you like?”

“I already have everything I could ever want.” Satoru answers, which makes your task slightly more difficult. You’re still going to get him something for his birthday, even if it’s just a pair of socks. “How about Ren? I heard he wants a puppy.”

“He’s not getting one. Nope.” You tell him, and he laughs before nodding in response. You’re not sure he’s gotten the message yet, but you’ll make sure to remind him.

[dduane]

I recently came across an old post of yours from 2013 where you answered an ask about your religious background (https://www.tumblr.com/dduane/69415098525/i-always-wondered-reading-yw-as-a-kid-whether-you) and it reminded me of something I thought I should tell you.

My parents were pretty indifferent to religion, but they thought I should still learn about Christianity since it was such a big part of our culture. So I went to Sunday school for a few years until I decided that that world view was Not For Me, and my parents were relieved they could sleep in on Sundays again. These days I would basically describe myself as an atheist with an asterisk, that is, I'm perfectly comfortable with the idea that there are more things in heaven and earth etc.

All that said, the most spiritual meaningful text I've ever encountered, to me, was the Surak chapter in Spock's World. It meant, and still means, more to me than a lot of two thousand year old tracts about judgemental patriarch in the sky.

I don't think I've ever read something you wrote that I haven't really enjoyed, but that one still stands out. Thank you!

You're very welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed that... because I worked harder over that sequence than (probably) anything else in the book.

In the introduction to C. S. Lewis's The Screwtape Letters, he talks about how he would have liked to write a similar book from the angelic-advice point of view, but felt it to be pretty much impossible to pull off. "Every sentence would have to smell of Heaven," he says... while having earlier commented ruefully on (by comparison) how easy, in fact way too easy, it was to write from the POV of evil.

He was absolutely right there. Trying to write as if from a place of enlightenment is tough, tough business. (And in its own way, paradoxically, also sometimes a dangerous expression of one's own opinions about one's abilities.) I sweated buckets over that work. But my reward is to still hear about it sometimes from people; and especially about that six-line distillation of Surak's POV that gets, I like to think, significantly more traction than the quote about the potato chip.

So thanks for letting me know. It's much appreciated. :)

[dovveri]

misunderstandings

bachelorette masterlist - part 1 ▸ part 2 ▸ part 3 ▸ part 4 ▸ part 6 ▸ part 7

synopsis: y/n watches the most recent episode of the bachelorette and is met with something she doesn’t like. sana also seems to be angry for whatever reason and it builds up into a big argument at the end of the night.

warnings: sex! overstimulation, fingering, scissoring, oral sex, degradation, choking, cursing

w/c: 7.1k

a/n: soooo sorry for the delay this will probs be my last update for a while bcs finals season is driving me up a wall (if u see me post another story or part its bcs im actually not studying and u should yell at me for it) i lwk hate the pacing of this chapter i feel like its everywhere but hey! we got some smut!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

the backlash wonsik gets online is more than satisfactory. apparently, with all the evidence piled up against him, he would most likely be sent away for the rest of his life. which is disgusting to think about, how much crime do you have to commit to get a life sentence? you try to shake those thoughts as you watch the most recent episode with the leftover contestants while sana’s on her individual date as usual. it was tradition now, even more so as the pool of contestants gets smaller and smaller.

after your day off, things had gotten right back to normal.

sana went on a solo date with jacky. good thing it was jacky too because they had the famous ‘conquer a fear’ date. who knew big, australian jacky was afraid of balloons. and in typical bachelorette fashion, producers came up with a romantic hot air balloon date for 5am in the morning.

costume designers had rushed into your room at 4am, turning on all the lights and pulling sana from your arms, not even casting you a second look now that they were used to seeing the both of you cuddled up and naked most of the time they had to come in and dress you.

you were barely conscious as they ran around frantically, pulling the covers over your head and groaning a little, trying to make yourself go back to sleep.

you’re sure sana didn’t feel the best either from the little grumbles and whines you can hear faintly as she struggles to keep her eyes open while makeup artists dab eyeshadow on her eyelids.

soon enough they're off and you drift back into sleep, only to be awoken a few hours later so you can get dressed and attend the group date for the day.

that was also pretty fun. everything was meant to be high-adrenaline, facing your fears, all that sort of stuff today. so the team had booked out a big amusement park and you all had free rein. it was also good because it meant you had a little bit more freedom, not everyone had to stick together so people ended up splitting naturally when they wanted to do different rides and you had even managed to sneak sana away from the cameras for a quick make out session in the toilets.

it was a pretty great day and would make for a nice and light episode after the mayhem that happened with wonsik. there was a rose ceremony as always but this time, only 2 people were eliminated. unfortunately you had to say goodbye to dae and nayeon, sana did say it was getting harder and harder to eliminate people because as the more time goes on, the closer you get, and when there's less people in the house, it also facilitates closer relationships. she had to eliminate those two simply because she felt her romantic connection with them wasn't as strong as it was with some of the other contestants. it was rough but that's showbiz.

after 2 more eliminations tonight, it would officially be the quarter finals meaning it would be time for sana to meet all of her last 4 contestants' families and close ones.

currently, you're enjoying an afternoon tea at the contestants' house. as usual, sana was on a solo date with jiwon but there wouldn't be a group date today because there wasn't enough time to film it. instead, the both of you were allowed a little sleep in after yesterday's rude 4am awakening, and a little more time in the afternoon to dress up before the rose ceremony tonight.

the episode had just finished with jacky and sana's date. jacky still won't go near a balloon and he's probably developed a fear of heights on top of that too now but at least it looked pretty on television.

you had teased him when the episode showed him nervously walking around and inspecting the hot air balloon before sana had to basically yank him into the basket. he had his eyes shut tight the entire time, holding on to sana for dear life while they ascended. it was a little cute when sana finally managed to get him to peek his eyes open once they reached their highest altitude, just in time to catch the sunrise, and in exchange for getting over his fear and not backing out of this date with her, she gave him a rose and kissed him on the cheek.

you heard afterwards from eunji that as soon as they touched back down he had jumped out of the basket and laid face down in the grass for about half an hour, just getting used to the feeling of being on the ground again.

they had caught a bit of him on the floor doing exactly that which was pretty hilarious because sana was crouched next to him, poking him and trying to get him to sit up but he just groaned and mumbled something incomprehensibly in response, his rose still clutched tight in his hand, stretched out in front of him.

they cut it off there though, maybe a little for jacky's reputation but you all knew how long he was there for.

after a short break where they show a few scenes of silly occurrences inside the house with the other contestants, and then finding out everyone was invited on the group date that day, except for jacky who was invited but ended up taking the rest of the day off to recuperate and basically laid in bed in the medical office, even skipping the rose ceremony since he already got his rose.

they shot everyone in the car on the way to the amusement park, asking the contestants what they thought was going to happen, if anyone was scared, trying to pull a few comedic clips together, all the anticipation scenes the audience needed to be excited for the date.

eventually, everyone's in the middle of the amusement park with sana and yourself waiting for them in casual clothes. you shift a little as you recall the way you had her gasping into your mouth and your hand up the blue polo shirt she’s wearing on screen only 20 minutes after the introduction and everyone had split off.

in the meantime, while the cameras were running around frantically trying to find sana, they had filled in the gaps with clips of the other contestants, you laugh when momo is practically dragged onto a rollercoaster by jihyo and jun, she’s kicking and screaming but they manage to strap her in and gesture for the roller coaster attendant to go. its one of those really fast ones where it goes from 0 to 100 in seconds so the force pushes all of them back against the seats, poor momo barely has the time to blink and then its over. she’s gasping with her eyes clenched shut while the other two are laughing and pulling her off and along to the next ride.

it’s great being able to watch what happened when you weren’t on screen, and also what sana was up to when you weren’t with her.

you laugh when they show all the contestants clambering onto the carousel, you had all taken some group pictures and some of them were more than silly.

eventually, you get to the rose ceremony, and just as you were on the night, your breath is taken away again with sana in a stunning red dress. she really nailed being on camera, her face was one that was meant to be on screen.

the night starts merrily, everyone's more of a family now, you’re all happy to drink and talk together, and it wasn’t so competitive to get time with sana anymore because there were less contestants.

you frown a little though when the camera shifts to sana and jihyo, they’re sitting very close in one of the more private rooms inside the house.

jihyo’s playing a joke and sana’s laughing, a little flushed, probably from the alcohol as she slaps jihyo’s arm lightheartedly. jihyo preens at the attention, grabbing another drink and offering it to sana who accepts it gratefully and takes a sip.

she hums in satisfaction before speaking up, “so you never did tell me how you broke up with that gym rat…”

jihyo’s laughing a little nervously, twiddling her thumbs a little, “right yeah… i just realised that i made the wrong decision. i was caught up in the newness of everything with him but after that got old, i realised i still loved-“

sana’s eyebrows are shooting up, she’s setting down her drink and clearing her throat.

“sorry.” jihyo flashes an apologetic look over at sana, but sana shakes her head.

“no no it’s okay. be as honest as you can, please. we’re both here because we’re looking for a relationship right? can’t do that if we have any skeletons still in the closet.”

jihyo’s smiling gratefully and then continuing, “he wasn’t it for me. that’s why i broke up with him. i’m sorry for the way i treated you sana, you didn’t deserve that, you never did anything wrong in our relationship and i never really gave you a reason to why we broke up. i hoped by coming on here i may be able to win back a second chance.”

sana hums again, taking a moment to think while jihyo nervously looks at her with wide eyes.

“jihyo… you hurt me a lot when you left.”

“i know! and i’m so so sorry for that! i never want to do that to you again, all i’m asking for is another chance sana.”

she’s shuffling closer, grabbing sana’s hands tightly and imploring with her eyes.

sana looks down at their hands together, taking a breath before looking back up, "look... i'm not going to lie to you... i never really did get over you completely."

what?

"and i wouldn't have kept you in here for this long if i wasn't curious about what you had to say and if i wasn't ready to give you a second chance."

what the actual fuck?

"it wouldn't be fair though. to the other contestants, y'know? if they knew you had a head start. and i admit i was avoiding you a little because i wanted to even the playing field and get to know everyone else first before revisiting this." she makes a gesture with her hands, signaling between the two of them. "so its nice to finally be able to sit down and get a clear answer about what happened in the past."

jihyo looks more and more hopeful as sana goes on, your hands only get tighter around the fabric of your pants. sana didn't tell you about this conversation last night. sana hasn't mentioned anything jihyo related. whenever you ask, she's always managed to change the conversation or misdirect you with the promise of sex. was this why? is this how she really felt about jihyo? did she think you would disapprove? well you do disapprove but that was besides the point.

all of the other contestants don't seem too shocked with this news. it's not too surprising though because they've all lived with jihyo and the one thing they all have in common is sana so there's no doubt they've all discussed each other's feelings for sana, and jihyo probably told them their history as well.

you're fuming though. you can't believe sana didn't tell you something this important. that you're finding this out along with the rest of the country when you were meant to be her best friend here, the one person who was supposed to know everything before everyone.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

the rest of the afternoon goes by in a blur. you can vaguely tell when someone comes up to you and tries to initiate or bring you into the conversation but your mind is swirling with information about sana and jihyo, their past interactions, whether you could decipher any of sana's feelings from observing her.

eventually, it's time for the rose ceremony again and you're still in your head about everything you thought you knew happened yesterday.

you have half the mind to pull sana aside and ask her about it but when you meet sana's eyes, she squints a little and looks away quickly with signs of a pout in her lip.

the night continues like this, the two of you stealing glances at each other only when you think the other isn't looking. when sana starts pulling jihyo aside though, you don't care if she sees the look of disbelief on your face, she doesn't seem to notice anyway, all cozied up to jihyo.

you're averting your head again and downing the rest of your drink in one gulp.

when it's time to read out who gets a rose and who's going home, you're stiff standing next to sana, she's purposely avoiding your gaze as well. the tension between you two was so thick jiwon had come up and asked if something had happened between you two. and technically nothing did happen so you don't really know why sana seems to be angry with you when you were the one who was hurt by yesterday's episode.

the ceremony is brief, you have to say goodbye to jun, and eunji unfortunately but you can barely give them a proper hug as you stare at jihyo who's now made the final four.

after your goodbyes you quickly make your way towards the car, tapping your foot impatiently while waiting for sana to finish saying her goodbyes so you could both go home.

unfortunately, that takes another 20 minutes and you're just about to tell the driver to leave without her when she's sliding into the car, still avoiding your gaze and sitting on the opposite end of the car. normally she's all over you, needing affection after a big day but now you're pretty sure if she moved any further away she'd be falling out the window.

that was fine though. it’s not like you wanted to have an argument with her while the driver could hear you anyway.

the car’s pulling in and she’s opening her door and stalking inside the house without even a second glance towards you.

what the fuck? why was she mad at you now?

you feel almost childish copying her actions and making sure to slam the door on the way in, but if she was acting like this for no reason that only infuriated you more.

you find her in the kitchen, tapping her foot impatiently and waiting for you to come in.

once you’re standing on opposite sides of the counter, you cross your arms and still. she’s leaning on the counter with her hands, staring you down. there was no way you were going to be the first to break. she was the one who had some explaining to do right now, not you.

sana's stubborn as well though, lips pursed and not backing down.

it goes on like this for a few minutes before you finally break, raising an eyebrow and asking coldly, "so do you have anything you want to say to me sana?"

sana scoffs, the tips of her ears red, "do you have anything you want to say y/n?"

"what? no! i don't even know why you're being like this right now! i'm the one who's been left in the dark here."

"oh you're the one who's been left in the dark huh? unbelievable that you're still lying to my face about this. is that how you really feel about her?"

"excuse me?! it doesn't matter how i feel about her! the whole issue is how you've been dealing with this situation!"

sana sneers, your voices getting louder and louder trying to top each other, "this again? seriously y/n? i'm my own person and i'm allowed to have opinions on who i like and who i don't like! if she's being weird or sneaky or whatever i'm going to call her out on it!"

you scoff, "yeah right. like you called her out on it last night? and tonight as well i bet. why did you take so long saying your goodbyes huh?"

sana goes beet red and you think you've got her, "what?! what are you talking about?! and i stayed behind to say proper goodbyes to everyone! not like you apparently who couldn't care less, you barely talked to anyone tonight, when jun, and eunji, who was one of your closest friends here right?! when they had to leave you didn't even look them in the eye when they hugged you!"

"riiiiiiiiiight and you expect me to believe that? you weren't cuddling up and getting a quickie in before you had to go right?"

"what?! what are you talking about y/n?! quickie- what?"

"with jihyo! you stayed behind to talk to her didn't you!?"

"what?! well yeah i did but what does jihyo have to do with any of this?"

"what?! i've been talking about jihyo this whole time what do you mean?"

she's slipping something out of her suit pocket and sliding it across the counter to you. your phone.

"are you fucking serious y/n? you've been talking about jihyo this whole time? what the fuck? why the fuck are you suddenly bringing her up? you're the one who's been going behind my back getting all flirty and friendly with miyeon! after you told me you were just friends?! calling each other babe and sweetie and honey in your texts, how the fuck did you even get her number anyway? how long have you been talking to her huh? how long have you been fucking me while talking to someone else?"

you're scrambling for your phone, unlocking it and scrolling to your messages with miyeon. fuck. sana must have read everything. you don't even remember leaving your phone behind but it must have been with her since the morning. you scroll down the texts and see the most recent messages miyeon has texted you today and you find that sana has been replying to her.

"are you serious sana?! why the fuck did you go through my phone?"

sana turns her head at that, pouting a little, "i didn't mean to! she just kept on texting and i thought it must have been something important if your phone kept going off so i just went in to make sure everything was okay! how was i supposed to know you were basically sexting her behind my back!?"

"we were not sexting oh my god sana! miyeon is my friend we're just friends!"

"why have you been keeping this from me then?! you must like her or something then don't you?!"

"what?! no! and don't talk to me about keeping secrets right now sana!"

"what secrets have i kept from you?!"

"hello?!" you're waving your hands around frantically, "the whole jihyo situation?! why didn't you tell me you never got over her?"

"i never got over- what?!"

"you said so last night! on national fucking television! don't play dumb with me right now sana, and don't try and change the topic on me!"

"i never said that! are you being serious right now? jihyo and i split and it took me a while but you were there for it all! you saw me at my lowest and you helped build me back up! i am over her!"

"why is she in the final four then?"

"oh my god y/n you cannot seriously still be talking about jihyo! i'm over her! the producers wanted her to make it to the final four because they thought they could add some drama in during the home visits or whatever! jihyo and i talked about it last night and i told her why she was still here because i didn't want to keep leading her on! that's why i stayed for longer after the rose ceremony, i just wanted to check on her and make sure she was okay with all of this because i still care about her! i loved her at one point in my life!"

"that's not what i saw in last night's episode!"

"what?!"

"yeah! you and jihyo were all close and snuggly and she told you she still loved you and you said you were going to give her a second chance!"

"y/n i never said any of that." the rage has lifted slightly now, replaced with confusion.

you're breathing heavily, tired from arguing, you and sana had more fights these few weeks that you've been filming than you've had your entire lives together.

you tap out of your messaging app, going to tiktok and searching up last night's bachelorette episode, scrolling past all the funny jacky moments and amusement park shorts, trying to find the part where jihyo and sana were talking. someone had to have posted about it.

"are you serious right now? are you fucking texting miyeon while we're talking?"

"what?! no! sana i told you miyeon and i are just friends! i'm trying to find a clip of you and jihyo last night to show you what i'm talking about!" you find one then and quickly hold it out for sana to see.

she watches the clip replay a few times while you wait defiantly.

after the seventh replay you take your phone back, sighing when you think she has nothing to say for herself.

“y/n…”

“want to explain yourself now? anything else you wanna divulge while you’re at it?”

“what? no y/n i didn’t say any of that. they edited that together. i didn’t say any of that to jihyo i promise.”

you look at her in confusion, looking back to your phone, and then back to her.

“i did pull jihyo aside and we did talk but i never told her that i didn't get over her. y/n you have to believe me baby i- i can call the producers right now, they'll clear everything up." she's reaching for her phone, but the immense relief that she doesn't still have feelings for jihyo washes over you and brings you to action. moving around the counter and taking her phone from her and wrapping her in a hug.

she stills against you, and you're both surprised when you feel your own tears falling down your face, the tension of the night finally getting to you.

"y/n..."

"i'm sorry. i'm sorry i do believe you. this all seems so silly now i hate when we fight. i overreacted with the whole jihyo thing and it could've been solved so easily if i'd just talked to you instead of..."

sana softens against you, wrapping her arms around your waist and carding a hand through your hair. "it's okay baby. i'll talk to the producers tomorrow and make sure they don't pull anything like that again. and after the home visits i promise jihyo is the one who'll be going home."

you sniffle a little, "you don't have to do that for me sana. i swear i was just being..."

"hmm?"

"i don't know i'm tired sana. can we go to bed?"

she hums against you, pulling you both towards the bathroom for your nighttime routines. once you're done, you're climbing into sana's bed and picking up your phone again, scrolling back to your messages with miyeon while waiting for sana to finish her routine and join you.

y/n: heyy sorry i just got my phone back, sana's had it the last few hours because i left it behind so if i seemed weird over text it's because she was messaging you

miyeon: oh it's okay! i did think you sounded a bit off but i just chalked it up to u not feeling well or something. was sana mad when she found out we were texting?

y/n: 😂 how did you know?

miyeon: well i was on the receiving end of her jealousy when she texted me today so that was one clue 😂

y/n: jealousy?

suddenly your phone starts vibrating and miyeon's name flashes across the screen. you pick up hesitantly, "hello?"

"y/n! hey! it's good to actually hear your voice again!"

you chuckle a little, "you too princess. what's up?"

"nothing really, i just wanted to see where your head's at with sana now."

"what do you mean?"

"remember the conversation we had the night i got kicked out? while you were drunk?"

you squint a little, shuffling around in the sheets, "kinda... why?"

"i noticed the way you looked at her, the way you talked about her, even on the first night i think the reason why no one suspected that you weren't just a regular contestant was because i thought, we all thought you also felt the same way we did for sana."

"w-what?"

"you might not have realised it... but i think you were beginning to see it when filming started. do you get jealous when you see sana with the other contestants?"

"i- well- i mean i kinda just thought i was friend jealous though. or like that i just wanted the best for her which was why i was so harsh on contestants in the beginning."

"the way you talk about her over text sounds like its more than that y/n."

"i don't- what- i'm not jealous-"

you barely register that sana's finished with her routine now, sliding into bed next to you and cuddling up immediately. "what are you jealous about?"

you freeze, looking at her like you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar in the middle of the night.

"is that sana?" you're broken out of it quickly when you hear miyeon's voice over the phone.

sana bristles though, moving away from you and frowning, "are you on the phone with miyeon?"

"i- yeah-"

sana's snatching the phone out of your hand instantly, bringing it up to her ear and speaking into the microphone with a cold sneer, "yes this is sana. can i help you?"

you can't hear miyeon respond but the way sana's speaking sends a lightning rod of arousal down your spine. your mind is still hazy with what miyeon's suggested, and you're thinking about how you hated seeing sana kiss wonsik, how blinded you felt when you thought sana still liked jihyo, what could this mean? how long have you liked sana for? has it always been this way?

you don't realise that sana's features have become less defensive as she talks to miyeon, almost apologetic even when she settles back down next to you, humming in response to something miyeon's said over the phone. she's within proximity again that you can make out miyeon's voice.

"-but i hope you've been doing well and taking care of yourself with all the craziness that comes along with filming."

"yeah thank you miyeon. really. and again i'm so sorry for all the misunderstandings and i hope you know that eliminating you was definitely a mistake and it was very short-sighted of me but i'm glad that we've finally had a chance to talk where i'm not completely hostile to you."

you can hear the airy giggle of miyeon over the phone, "of course! all the best with the rest of the season sana. maybe we'll see each other on the other side."

sana smiles, "definitely. goodnight miyeon!"

she hangs up and hands your phone back to you, going right back to cuddling as if nothing had happened.

you're trying to pick out what part of that conversation that you overheard bothered you when it hits. "eliminating miyeon was a mistake?" was this the jealousy again?

"weren't you the one saying that?" sana raises an eyebrow at you, brushing her fingers over your side.

"well- i-"

she's giggling now, "i'm just kidding. miyeon just put to rest everything that was on my mind so i have nothing to worry about. i'm sorry for overreacting when i found out you were texting her. you're allowed to have friends, sorry i was trying to micromanage that."

"what was on your mind?"

"hmm y'know... you mostly."

you whine, hitting her lightly while she laughs at you.

"she told me you were just friends and she never meant to make it seem like it was anything else. she also helped me... come to terms with a few things so i'm actually very grateful for that."

"what things?"

"so many questions y/n. are you worried i'm about to steal her away from you?" sana teases.

"what? no! stop teasing-"

she grins, poking your cheek, "i'm keeping that to myself for now okay? i'll probably tell you one day. just not today."

"why not?"

"just because." she smiles, "now let's sleep."

you grumble a little, confused at what miyeon could have told sana, confused with what miyeon told you. there was one thing you did want to test out though...

you lean in quickly and capture sana's lips, taking her a little by surprise but she's quick to reciprocate, closing her eyes and kissing you back.

you're aggressive, climbing on top of her quickly and licking into her. you're trying to figure out if kissing her made you feel anything more. anything that could clue you in on your true feelings for her.

she's breaking away from you panting though, pushing you back slightly when you try to chase after her again, "woah y/n baby baby slow down- what's got you all in a rush?"

your eyes are dark as you look down at her, friends don't normally feel like the world would end if they stopped kissing right? you needed to be back on her, in her, needed to feel her around you, needed to taste her, needed to memorise every single sound she made, you needed her. that was more than just lust right?

"just- just need you please-" you're leaning back in, almost begging.

"no- no y/n stop. tell me what's going on, you're not normally like this."

you groan, head falling to her shoulder, slumping against her. "something stupid miyeon said..." you mumble into her shoulder.

"what did she say?"

you huff against her, "that i had feelings for you."

you hear the gasp sana lets out, her hands at your waist tightening their hold and you groan into her, grinding down a little at the feeling.

she stills you though, hands sliding down to grip your hips, "stop that." her voice is harsh, and you're reminded of the way she talked to miyeon over the phone, all cold and annoyed. it only makes you drip more at the tone of her voice and you whimper a little.

"do you?"

"do i what?" you're distracted, wanting only to kiss her again.

"do you have feelings for me?"

you sigh, "don't know- that's what i'm trying to figure out."

"how are you trying to figure it out?"

"kissing you. touching you. seeing if all of it made me feel something more."

"something more?"

"i don't know. something other than horny."

sana hums before finally loosening her grip. "okay. try it. just promise me you'll tell me what you think afterwards?"

you're quick to latch onto her lips again, mumbling yes and thank you into her.

she bucks her hips up against you and you moan. she was finally giving into her feelings and letting you do what you wanted, expressing herself freely.

“can you- mmf- can you-“

“what what is it baby? what do you need?”

“can you- be mad at me?”

she’s kissing down your neck, nipping slightly as you grind down into her, “i’m not mad at you. we talked about this just then baby.”

“no- i need- can you pretend to be mad?”

she’s licking up to your ear, “i don’t understand baby. can you elaborate?”

“f-fuck sana- can you- just imagine i did like miyeon and i wanted to fuck her-“

you’re scared you said the wrong thing and ruined the mood when she stills under you. then all of a sudden she’s rolling you over and straddling your hips, lips and teeth back at the sensitive parts on your neck. “you like it when i’m mad?”

“g-god yes sana please-“

“whore. you want me to mark you up? make sure everyone knows your mine? mine to ruin?”

“yes yes sana please-“

you moan when you feel her sucking at your collarbone, intending on doing exactly that.

"off." her hands are at the bottom of your shirt tugging, and you scramble up, almost knocking your forehead against hers in haste, you'd laugh but you were so pent up you couldn't think about anything other than her fucking you all night long.

her hands are cold when she slides them up your stomach, cupping your tits and you shiver at the feeling.

"trying to piss me off on purpose bringing up her name into this hm? after we just made up too." she squeezes and you gasp into her, nipples hard against her palms as she runs a thumb over the tip.

"think my pretty baby's going to come for anyone else?" she circles a nipple leaving you twitching, "i'm going to ruin you so that everytime you even come close to coming in the future, you'll only be able to think about me."

she's licking a trail down the middle of your chest, before sucking marks into the sides of your breasts, avoiding your nipples, only tracing them lightly with the tip of her thumb.

you're squirming around under her, begging and crying, eyes clenched shut, hand drifting down towards your folds, trying to alleviate some of the pressure that's built up.

she snatches your hand quickly and pins it above your head, "don't even fucking think about it."

you whine under her, trying to pull away from her grip but she has you completely under her control.

"don't do that baby. you asked for this didn't you? you're going to be a good girl and take it now." her lips come back down on your other tit, sucking and licking again, you're grinding up into nothing, stuck with the feeling of your own sticky arousal.

"p-please sana need- please- more-"

"what do you need baby? this?" she takes a nipple into her mouth then, sucking gently and flicking over it with her tongue, then popping it out of her mouth, "or this?" a hand trails lower, thumbing the waistband of your pyjama bottoms. "maybe this?" a knee comes up then, pressing right where you need her most and you’re moaning against her.

"g-god sana- fuck- all- all of it- god i need all of it-"

"be more specific sweetie. you can do it. c'mon now."

"f-fuck need you to fuck me like you said you would. need to feel your fingers inside me, your mouth wrapped around my clit, your hands gripping my ass so hard it'll leave behind handprints. just need you sana please- please-"

"mmm that's a good girl. begging for me like the slut you are. because you were so pretty i'll give you that. but you gotta talk me through it okay? if you stop i'll stop and i'm going to go fuck myself in your bed and leave you here for the rest of the night."

you whimper, nodding your head.

"words baby."

"yes, yes yes god please just-"

she smirks and then she's back at your nipples, fully sucking on them now and pulling your bottoms off along with your panties, immediately swiping a finger through your wetness. the sudden change from feeling nothing to feeling everything be stimulated was almost too much but also exactly what you needed.

"god sana please- inside- need you inside."

she's pushing one finger in and you feel yourself clench around her, already so close, desperate for her. suddenly you're remembering your actual task, but before you can formulate another thought she's pulling out and thrusting back in with another finger.

"god you're so wet for me baby. how long have you been thinking about this hm?"

"i- fuck- i'm never not thinking about you sana."

sana hums, keeping a slow, languid pace, "is that helping with your little mission tonight?"

"i- w- fuck sana faster please-"

"answer the question first."

"f-fuck i- i don't know- i c-can't think- please-"

she's pulling out and removing herself from you so that none of your skin is touching anymore.

"now? now can you think?"

"sana please fuck- yes! yes it's helping everything is helping please just need you back-" you're making grabby hands at her, trying to pull her back so you can feel her against you again.

she obliges, pushing back into you and humming, "that's a good girl."

"thank you- god sana- thank you- mm fuck thank you-" you're babbling, barely making sense when she speeds up, curling her fingers inside you just the way she knows you like, and rubbing her thumb along your clit each thrust inside.

soon enough, you're coming around her, her name and curses spilling out of your mouth but she's not done. she's crawling down your body, marking almost every inch of skin she can get her mouth on, and then latching onto your clit and sucking, fingers still pounding into you.

"f-fuck! sana! 's too much! f-fuck-"

she only hums against you, the vibrations against your clit only tightening the coil in your belly once more and the overstimulation is too much and you feel yourself coming again.

she's pulling out and you think she's finished but she flips you onto your stomach, slipping a pillow under you to lift your ass up, hands gripping the cheeks and spreading them apart, just like how you had begged her to. but then her fingers are prodding at your entrance again and she slides in, and this angle is so much deeper and you cry out, muffled against the sheets, trying to squirm away from her but she's got your ass right where she wants you.

she's leaning down, pushing in and out of you again, you can feel her chest against your back, the fact that she's still wearing her top fleetingly crosses your mind but you can still feel her hardened nipples against your skin, you arch back into her.

"my baby's not done yet. you're going to give me another one. and another one. until you've finished your little experiment right?"

you're sobbing into the sheets, the delightful mixture of pleasure and pain running through your body, your hyperaware of every single movement, every single place your skin touches, every breath she takes as she ruts her fingers into you.

you feel your third orgasm coming up when a hand is snaking a way back up your body, pinching roughly at your nipples before closing around your throat. you gulp and clench even harder around her fingers when she squeezes her hand lightly, moaning your approval.

"yeah? you like that slut?"

"y-yes o-oh god fuck- sana- fuck-"

she's squeezing tighter now and the pressure is perfect, the lightheadedness from the cutoff of oxygen combined with the overstimulation and you're coming again, thrashing into her as she releases you slowly, heaving in air as specks of black dot your vision.

you feel almost numb when she slides the pillow out from under you, turning you slightly so she can kiss you gently, and you moan at the taste of yourself on her tongue.

she's slipping a leg between yours when you realise that she's taken off her bottoms, and you gasp when the feeling of her wetness glides against your clit.

you whimper against her lips, "sana..."

"shhhh baby one more."

you're helpless against her, whining and pushing yourself into her, relishing the way her breath catches and she moans when your clits drag along each other. she's got one hand at your tit again, pinching a nipple and you need to feel more of her so you slide a hand up her top, grasping at her breast and moaning when she rocks against you just a little harder at the feeling.

your lips never leave each other, even when you're so blissed out you're just panting into her mouth, rutting against her. you're not even thinking straight when you mumble the words, slurred together and mixed with curses, but sana still catches it. "i love you."

she stops immediately, leaving you humping her like a dog, panting into her wondering why she's stopped.

she's gripping your hips, stilling you, eyes wide, "what did you just say?"

"i love you sana fuck- please- please let me come again please-"

her eyes study you, half-dazed, and then suddenly she's rutting against you again, your hands tighten around her tits just to be able to hold onto something because she's pushing against you and you're so close and her hands are basically moving your hips against hers without you even doing anything, she's moaning into your mouth, caught in her own pleasure and it's all too much when you feel her tighten her legs around you, coming with a whine and shaking, you come again, eyes closing and feeling the wave of pleasure wash over your body, twitching lightly against her in the aftershock.

when you pull apart your legs are sticky and filthy and hers aren't much better, stained with your essence, you can't even open your eyes, just letting her plant light kisses across your face and neck, holding her against you and learning to breathe again.

when she kisses your eyelids you manage to peek open, staring at her in wonder.

"did you mean it?" her eyebrows are slightly furrowed, hair sticking to her forehead, bottom lip protruding a little in a pout.

you were overcome with pleasure and overstimulation, but you remember everything you said. "i did. i love you. i'm sorry it took this long to realise it."

she sighs, eyes tearing up, "i love you too idiot."

"what about the season?"

"we'll figure that out later. let me clean you up and we can cuddle and sleep?"

you hum, whining when she leaves you to grab a damp towel, missing her warmth already. it felt painful to be without her. every second you spent apart, you were thinking about her, you can't help but laugh at how stupid you've been. you've been in love with sana for the better half of your life, you were determined to make it up to her. to show her just how much you loved her. just how much you needed her in your life.

you smile happily when she comes back, bringing her into a sweet kiss and letting her wipe at your legs. you were so, utterly, in love with her, and you finally realised it.

[fandom-geek17]

Destined For More

Neteyam x Omatikaya!Reader

Synopsis: Being a close family friend of the Sully's, and Kiri's best friend, it was hard to be around Neteyam and not fall in love with him. Supressing those feelings were even harder, especially when his parents start pressuring him about finding a mate...

Rating: E MINORS DNI🔞🔞

Tags: Friends to lovers! Eventual smut! Semi public smut! P in V smut, Reader has a name, no use of Y/N

Vocabulary: Nantang (Viperwolf), Marui (Pods/tents), Skxawng (Moron), Tanhì (Bioluminescent freckles/stars)

Ages: Neteyam (21), reader (20), Kiri (20), Lo'ak (19), Tuk (13)

Can also be read on AO3

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

“There child” Mo’at told you gently, standing over your shoulder as you crushed the herbs in the mortar. “Perfect.” You smiled to yourself. You were a decent healer, but hearing it from her directly meant everything. Kiri had always been the best healer, always would be, but you enjoyed the profession. Feeling like you could contribute with something else other than making clothes.

Alongside you and Kiri, there were two other healers in training, and everyone was currently busy helping a hunting party that had been attacked by a group of Nantang. None had been seriously injured, but there were a lot of bites and scratches to clean and bandage. They were lucky, it could have been worse. But since there were suddenly so many patients, the supply of medicines ran low. As Kiri and the other two worked on the patients, you were happy to sit in the corner, making more healing paste as fast as you could. The patients were an important part of being a healer, but the thing that had always interested you most was the science behind it. Discovering how new plants could optimize healing, which ones soothed pain, which ones killed bacteria. You had recently discovered that alternating the weaving pattern of the bandages caused more air to flow through without exposing the wounds to the elements. That way, it lessened the chance of infection.

“Emmy, can you pass me those?” Kiri asked, pointing to a pile of leaves next to you. She smiled in thanks as you gave them to her. Your real name was Emreyìte, meaning surviving daughter. It was a bit on the nose, but you liked it. You mother had labored for over two days to bring you into the world, and you nearly didn’t make it. The name was supposed to convey the strength you had already displayed coming into this world.

When you finished crushing the herbs, you put them in the water stewing above the fire. Stirring slowly, and evenly, the water slowly changed color. But it needed to steep for a little while longer. This particular mixture of herbs soothed pain very efficiently when boiled into a tea. But the taste wasn’t particularly pleasant, so you always added some sweetness in the hopes of counteracting the bitter taste. All the hunters were given a cup of the liquid to drink. They all grimaced badly, making you smile a little. It was terrible, but you were still experimenting with the recipe.

You all worked in quiet unison until all the hunters had been treated. It was well past the start of the communal dinner by then, evening setting in slowly. The other two healers went to get something to eat whilst Kiri helped Mo’at to her marui. You stayed behind to clean up. And also take inventory of how much of the supplies had been used. Hunger rumbled in your belly, but it would have to wait.

“Knock, knock” a voice murmured. A voice you knew all too well. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as your breath hitched.

You turned around and indeed. “Neteyam” you breathed. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugged, watching you with a small smile from under his eyelashes. “I saw all the other healers join the dinner, but not you. I figured you’d be here, too wrapped up in your research to eat again.” He held out a steaming bowl in front of you. “So I brought you this.”

The smell of Yerik stew filled your nostrils, making your stomach rumble again. Neteyam smirked, proving his point. “Thank you” you said, accepting his gift. But it was only when he stepped inside the hut properly that you noticed the wound on his shoulder, making you gasp slightly. “Neteyam, what happened to your shoulder?”

“Nothing! It’s fine, don’t worry about it” he assured you, but not very convincingly.

“That needs to be cleaned” you stated, setting the bowl aside. “What happened?” You looked at his expectantly until he finally caved, quirking his brow in your direction.

“I caught a tree branch during fighting practice” he admitted with a nonchalant tone. “It’s fine.”

“Did you clean it, at least?” you asked, observing the wound. You already knew the answer.

“Yes” Neteyam said.

“Well, not well enough. Sit! Does it hurt?”

“No.”

You quirked at eyebrow at him, your tail swishing impatiently.

“A bit.” Neteyam’s ears flicked as his eyes flitted between you and the bowl of Yerik stew. “Can you at least eat first? Waiting a couple of more minutes won’t kill me.” He smiled at you playfully. He was normally very reserved, the smiling Neteyam was usually saved for his family.

But you only huffed, filling a cup with the last of the tea from earlier. “Here, drink this while I eat.” As you sat down with your bowl of stew, Neteyam took a small gulp of the liquid in his cup. His brows furrowed but other than that, he did an okay job of hiding his disgust. But having known him since you were kids, you could tell when he hid the truth. “You can grimace, you know” you giggled over the bowl. “It won’t hurt my feelings. I know it’s disgusting.”

Neteyam hummed, only making a small grimace after his next sip. “It’s not the best” he admitted with a sheepish smile. “But it’s effective. And a lot better than the last time. You’re getting very good at this, experimenting with medicine.” You couldn’t help but blush at his praise.

But you had also just stuffed your mouth full of food, so the only answer he got was that damned blush you wished would go away. As soon as you finished the bowl, you go to work on his shoulder.

Your hand trembled slightly as it made contact with Neteyam’s warm skin, holding him steady while the other hand cleaned his wound with a cloth. Your hand rose and fell with each of his breaths, and you leaned in to see properly in the firelight. Eywa, he smelled so good. Always had. It was intoxicating, and also the reason why you never got too close to him.

Your family and the Sully family had been friends since forever, you and your brother grew up together with the Sully’s, but as your brother made lots of other friends, your only real friend was Kiri. Of course, Kiri came with Lo’ak, Spider and Tuk and they were great, like additional siblings. But they weren’t Neteyam. With his broad shoulders, gentle voice, infectious smile, kind heart and protective older brother demeanor, it was impossible to not gain a crush on him. That crush had lasted on and on since you were fourteen. At seventeen, even you had to admit to yourself that you had fallen in love with him. And how could you not? He was everything, had everything. He was the handsome son of the Olo'eyktan that all the women gazed after, giggled around and tried to flirt with. He was the dream you could never have. It had been clear over the years that he only saw you as a friend, as Kiri’s best friend. So you had become very good at dreaming in silence and later suppressing your feelings for the man sitting before you.

Dreams of exploring with him, laughing with him, him confessing his undying love for you and making you his mate. And also not so innocent dreams, dreams of being with him. Of him kissing you, running his hands all over your body, his mouth following suit, him pushing his cock deep into your pussy, joining his kuru with yours, finally creating that everlasting bond…

A hiss from the man in question broke you out of your train of thought. “Sorry” you whispered, your mouth and throat suddenly very dry.

“It’s okay” Neteyam whispered back. You could have sworn that his voice was deeper, throatier, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. “It just stings a little.”

You nodded quietly and swallowed, desperately trying to regain some moisture in your mouth so you could get your voice back. Standing up, you took a deep breath that you hoped was subtle and went to get the Yalna bark mixture. This was exactly why you tried to avoid being too close to him. Every time those big golden orbs watched you intently or his smell surrounded you, thought and memories of your illicit fantasies caught up with you and you had to remember that Neteyam was destined for so much more than a healer who was more interested in playing with plants than helping her patients.

He was watching you right now, you could tell. His gaze burned at the back of your neck, but when you turned back around, he thankfully looked away. You had to say something, quickly. The longer you stayed quiet, more memories of last night flooded your brain. Those fantasies of him wrapping your legs around his neck before he-

“Why didn’t you come here before?” you blurt out, desperately avoiding eye contact, trying to calm the erratic beating of your heart.

Neteyam shrugged with his good shoulder, his eyes following the movement of you fingers as you dipped them in the mixture. “There were so many wounded hunters, thought you should prioritize them.”

You huffed at his stubbornness. “Skxawng” you muttered, trying to not take in how defined the muscles around his shoulder area were. “I al- we always have time for you” you corrected quickly. Please Eywa, don’t let him catch that slip up!

You dared a quick glance at his eyes, but you couldn’t read the expression there. He opened his mouth and closed it several times before speaking. “I’ll remember that” he breathed.

Quickly, you looked back down at his wound and shuffled closer to be able to apply the ointment. Too late you noticed that this position practically placed you between his legs. His knees rubbed against your waist as you leaned forward. Again, you placed one hand on his chest for support before rubbing your coated fingers over his wound.

A small groan left his lips. A groan that caused you to close your eyes and legs tighter together. Thank Eywa that your braids covered your face as you worked, if he saw the deep violet of your cheeks or your eyes that were more black than yellow, he’d probably bolt out and you’d have to dig yourself into a hole of embarrassment and stay there forever. There was nothing sexual about that groan! He was in pain, you reminded yourself. Still, all you could feel was the beating of your heart and the lightning bolts of pleasure going from your stomach to your core.

This was exactly why you needed to keep a safe distance from him! When there were other people around or you kept yourself at a respectable distance, it was easier to remember that all you would ever be was his friend. It made it easier to suppress everything.

As soon as you could, you bolted from your position as if you had just been burnt. Clearing your throat, you look away, letting your braids hide your face again. “Okay, you’re all set” you murmured under the guise of putting everything back at its rightful place.

You could hear Neteyam standing up behind you, shuffling about a little. “Thank you, Emreyìtre. I appreciate it.” It was so rare for someone to call you by your full name. It caused a flutter of your heart that made you feel both happy and sad at the same time. “Are you staying here long?”

Why did he want to know? Did it matter what you did? “Probably not” you answered slowly, finally turning around to face him. “We used up a lot of Mo’at’s supply today. I was going to forage some more for her so we can all start fresh tomorrow.”

“Now?” he questioned, gesturing to the setting sun outside of the tent. “It will be dark soon.”

You crossed your arms, tail swishing slightly. “So? I’m not afraid of the dark.”

Neteyam’s ears flicked upwards along with his tail. “I know” he smiled. “But I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

You sighed… You wanted to say something derogatory to distract him from the real reason you didn’t want him accompanying you. It’s not like you could tell him you wanted the alone time to cool off and maybe shoot a couple of arrows in between gathering. But when you looked into those hopeful, determined eyes of his, you couldn’t lie. Damn him! “Fine. As long as you remember that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself then you can make yourself useful and help me carry everything.”

You thrusted a satchel bag into his hands. Neteyam snorted and slung it over his shoulder before accepting the large pile of smaller containers that you had woven for this very purpose. You gathered the same equipment for yourself before also armoring yourself with your daggers and bow and arrow.

As you walked, you tried to stay a couple of paces ahead of him, both to show him the way but also to give yourself some space to think. As eclipse slowly set in, his tanhì would illuminate more and more, creating that perfect canvas of speckled light. He had always been so beautiful in the dark, his features somehow more prominent than during the day. Over the years, you had spent many evenings around a campfire with him and his family. Carefully watching him out of the corner of your eye, you had decided that nighttime was his best look.

But you couldn’t think of that right now! If this was going to work, having him accompany you, then it couldn’t be awkward. You had to treat him the same way as you would anyone else helping you. And that meant no ogling! Hence why you were walking ahead of him.

Neteyam walked diligently behind you, not saying much, just following in your footsteps. Eventually you stopped in front of a clearing.

“Here” you pointed towards a patch of green. “See those plants with the rounded leaves?” He nodded, stepping closer to you to observe the plants. “Dig up the roots, clean them and put them in one container. As many as you can fit.”

“What do they do?” he asked curiously as he sunk down to his knees.

“They calm anxiousness” you answered immediately. “They can also help people sleep if prepared properly.”

As Neteyam worked on the roots, you used your knife to gather the same herbs you had boiled earlier today. Neteyam proved to excel at this, like everything else. He quickly filled the woven bag with roots and immediately asked for a new task. You set him to work as much as you could, both to get the work done faster and because you secretly wanted to see that pleased smile whenever he showed you his collection of plants. He was like one of those yellow canines Jake had showed you on a computer once. The ones that existed on earth. He had that same eagerness to please and do well.

It warmed your heart that he genuinely wanted to help. Yet you also had to remind yourself that this eagerness was not singled out for you. He probably wanted to help everyone with the same fervor. He was the next Olo’eyktan, after all. If the people were supposed to follow him, then he had to show he would be there for them with the same loyalty.

But as the evening went on, Neteyam followed you more and more, asking you to tell him about each and every plant you collected. And it was nice to have something to talk about. Something that you could sink into without feeling self-conscious. So, you happily shared your knowledge.

“See this one?” you sat down in front of a plant with thick, pointy stems and sharp edges. “Kiri and I discovered the use of it a while ago. It soothes burns, produces a cooling sensation.” You broke off a piece of the stem and cut it in half. A clear, gel-like liquid oozed out. You collected some on your fingers and you could swear you heard your foraging partner swallow. But before you had time to process whether he did, you reached for his arm to stroke some on it. “Feel that?” you smiled up at him.

“Yeah” he murmured before looking up at you. “That’s incredible.”

“I’m experimenting with it, to see if I can make turn it into an ointment somehow.”

Neteyam looked at you with hooded eyes. “If anyone can, it’s you.”

A blush spread across your cheeks. He had given you so many compliments tonight, it was hard to believe that this wasn’t one of your daydreams. Even harder when you observed the way his tanhì glowed in the moonlight, the way his braids fell to perfectly frame his face, his gentle smile, his golden eyes looking up at you from under his eyelashes again. The urge to be closer to him was overwhelming. Every fibre of your being longed for him, to feel his lips against yours. But you had to stay strong. He was forbidden territory. Kiri’s brother, the future clan leader, and most importantly; he wasn’t interested. And making any kind of move would ruin whatever it was that you two had.

So you cleared your throat and stood up. “After we get some of these, we should be set to head back” you said quietly, turning away from him.

The two of you quickly gathered the last plant and began walking back. But before you had gotten far you stumbled upon some of your favorite materials for making clothing. A small squeal of happiness left your lips as you bent down to scoop up some of the pebbles.

“Do these have a medical purpose?” Neteyam asked you curiously and picked some up himself.

“No” you admitted bashfully, placing the small white pebbles in your bag. “I use them to make beads and other decorations for my chest coverings.”

“Oh…” Neteyam’s eyes flitted downwards for a moment before he bent down to scoop some more pebbles into his hand to examine them further. “Is it hard to make beads out of them?”

“No” you shrugged. “Just time consuming.” Neteyam nodded slowly.

The two of you walked the rest of the way in silence. It had been such a nice evening and you desperately tried to remember that it was simply an outing between friends. You couldn’t get your hopes up over this one thing. He just came along to make sure you didn’t get lost out there…

“Hey” Neteyam stopped you with a hand on your elbow when the village appeared ahead. “Thank you for letting me come with you. I really needed to clear my head for a bit.”

Your ears perked in interest. “Oh?” His mood seemed to have dampened somewhat, judging by the way his eyes suddenly had darkened and his tail swished slightly when he looked at his family’s marui. “Can I ask why?” you probed gently. “Or is it too personal?” Whatever it was, a part of you really wanted, needed, to know.

Neteyam rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “Mom and dad have been trying to have a conversation with me for a couple of days. A conversation I don’t really want to have.” He looked at his home, his cheeks a bit more violet than usual. You nodded gently for him to continue. He cleared his throat and refused to meet your gaze. “They want me to start looking for a mate.”

And just like that, you could feel cracks appearing in your heart. “Oh…” you whispered, now avoiding his gaze, as well. You had always known this day would come, but mentally preparing and being slapped in the face with it were two entirely different things.

“And it’s not that I don’t want a mate” he added hurriedly. “I do. I just don’t want to be rushed into any big decisions. Whoever I mate with will have to burden a lot of responsibility and I don’t want to force that on anyone. I know what’s like to have so much responsibility thrust upon you that you didn’t ask for.”

You nodded slowly, blinking furiously. Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but they had to stay away! You would not cry over the news that a friend was supposed to celebrate. Be supportive! “I’m sure whoever it will be will make a great tsahìk one day” you murmured, clutching your bag closer to your chest. “Since we’re here, I can take the bags to the healing hut.”

“I can help you with that!” Neteyam offered immediately, making you want to cry even more. But not now, not yet!

“No, no I’ll be fine” you lied, your voice a lot shakier than you would have liked. “Go home, Neteyam. I’m sure your parents are wondering where you are.” He reluctantly handed you the bag he was carrying. You gave him a forced smile. “Goodbye.”

You started to walk away before he could answer, desperate to get away. He called after you. “Goodbye Emmy!”

The tears finally spilled over. It felt like a ‘goodbye’ in more ways than one…

Let me know what you think!!!

[deliciousangelfestival]

Underworld Insomnia || 3 - B. Barnes

Character : Bucky × Psychiatrist Female!Reader

Summary: As a ruthless contract killer, Bucky is feared in the underworld of criminals. His opponents freeze when they see him, as he is feared among them. However, they don't know that he could be warm to only one person: his psychiatrist. The only person who could make him fall asleep.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 ,-

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to hear your feedback. Thank you once again.

Upon hearing your plea and witnessing your disheveled appearance, Bucky feels a surge of determination. After all, you had helped him with his sleeping troubles, and now it's his turn to repay the favor. "Let's go back to somewhere safe," he suggests, his voice steady and reassuring.

A glimmer of hope flickers in your eyes at Bucky's offer of assistance. With a grateful nod, you gather Conroy into your arms once more, feeling a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

As you start to move, Conroy's voice breaks the silence with a whisper, "Are we going to run again?"

You pause, glancing down at Conroy with a reassuring smile. "No," you reply softly, your voice filled with determination. "I think we will stay safe for a while."

Arriving at Bucky's house, Conroy's eyes widen in awe as he takes in the grandeur of the surroundings. "Wow, you're rich," he exclaims, unable to hide his admiration.

Bucky can't help but scoff at the comment, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Finally, he feels a sense of accomplishment at being able to impress the young boy, even for a moment.

At that moment, Bucky had assumed Conroy was just a curious kid, until he made another astute observation.

Conroy adjusts his glasses and remarks, "There's no female trace in this place. It looks so empty, which means this must be one of your hidden houses."

Bucky's eyebrows raise in surprise at Conroy's insight. "You hit the nail on the head," he acknowledges, impressed by the boy's perceptiveness.

Bucky begins to piece together the situation. He realizes that you and Conroy must be hiding, especially considering the recent danger you faced. Given the risk of the masked man finding your address, you would unlikely return to your place. Although Bucky doesn't fully trust you, he sees no harm in offering one of his safehouses as a temporary refuge.

When you heard that, you felt relieved. If this place is one of Bucky's hidden houses, it means it's likely off the radar of the group of people who chased you and Conroy.

"Thank you so much for your help, Mr.Barnes," you express gratefully, feeling a sense of gratitude toward him.

Bucky chuckles softly. "Call me Bucky. I feel old every time you call me 'Mr.'"

Before you can reply, Conroy interjects with his typical bluntness. "But you are old."

Bucky grits his teeth and playfully ruffles Conroy's hair. "Go to sleep," he commands, trying to distract the boy.

Conroy protests, "I can't. I'm hungry!" His complaint is cut short when you offer him a piece of chicken. Before returning, Bucky had kindly bought dinner from a fast-food chain restaurant.

As Conroy takes a bite of the seasoned fried chicken, his eyes widen in delight. "Yum! This is the most delicious food I've ever eaten! It's even better than the food in the lab."

Bucky raises an eyebrow, intrigued by Conroy's mention of a lab. What does it mean? Is this the first time the kid has tasted fried chicken?

"I think it's time for me to explain," you suggest, sensing Bucky's curiosity and realizing it's time to share more about your situation with him.

You and Bucky converse in the living room while Conroy enjoys his food, appearing like any other child his age in moments like these.

Seated in different chairs facing each other, you begin, "Conroy is a special kid."

Bucky nods in agreement, recognizing the uniqueness of the situation.

You continue, "He grew up in a lab where all the best scientists gather. His mother is my sister, who is also a scientist."

Memories flood back to you, vividly recalling the day when your sister, weak but beaming with happiness, handed you Conroy. "He's your nephew," she said gently, sealing your bond. Since that day, you promised to protect Conroy.

"The reason why we're hiding is because of the Hercules project," you explain further.

Bucky listens intently, intrigued by the unfamiliar name.

"Hercules is the name of the drugs," you elaborate. "It's designed to make soldiers stronger, undefeatable, with accelerated wound healing, enhanced eyesight, and heightened hearing senses."

"Sounds promising," Bucky comments "What does this have to do with Conroy?"

You close your eyes, remembering the horrors of that terrible night. The day you lost your sister, along with the lab. "The drugs caused people to go insane. Blood poured from their eyes and ears, and they would harm themselves."

Bucky's expression darkens as he absorbs the gravity of the situation.

"The worst part," you continue grimly, "is that the lab wants to mass-produce the drugs for regular people, particularly those who enjoy working out. Just imagine the potential side effects."

Bucky's brow furrows in confusion. "Still, I just can't connect the situation with Conroy," he admits, struggling to understand the full extent of Conroy's involvement.

As you explain further, you clench your fist tightly, the tension evident in your voice. "The only person who could recreated the drugs is my sister. Conroy has an amazing memory. Before my sister died, she made sure he remembered the Hercules drug formula, the calculations, and the side-effects. But what truly made him a target is that he memorized the names of the victims."

Bucky is taken aback by this revelation, his expression mirroring his disbelief. "A 4-year-old understands something so gruesome?" he murmurs, his voice laced with incredulity.

You nod solemnly. "Yes. And that's why we're hiding."

"The people who chase us," you continue, your voice trembling with emotion, "on the day my sister destroyed the drugs, they destroyed the lab. Everything they built turned to ash. And everyone in it, including my sister." A shiver runs down your spine as you recall the horrifying events.

"If they catch Conroy," you whisper, your hands trembling as you clasp them together, "they will torture him, force him to reveal the Hercules drug formula. And after that..." You trail off, unable to voice the unspeakable horrors that may await Conroy if he were to fall into the wrong hands.

Tears well up in your eyes as you speak, the weight of the situation bearing down on you with crushing force. "I pray to God every day," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper, "that nothing bad happens to Conroy."

Bucky feels a surge of empathy as he listens to your story. If he had a family like yours, he knows he would be grateful beyond measure.

"Bucky, could you help us?" you ask, your voice tinged with desperation.

Bucky tilts his head, considering your request. "How are you going to pay me?" he inquires, his tone cautious and business-like.

You're taken aback by the question, realizing you hadn't thought about it before. "I...," you falter, unsure of how to respond.

"You can't afford me," Bucky asserts bluntly, cutting off your attempt to explain.

Speechless, you struggle to find the right words. "I-I know," you stammer, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over you. "Is there anything I could do?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky remains silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he considers your offer.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and measured. "Work for me," he suggests. "Read me to sleep."

"That's it?" you inquire, surprised by the simplicity of his request.

Bucky nods a hint of determination in his eyes. "That's it," he confirms.

You smile warmly at Bucky, feeling a surge of gratitude for his unexpected kindness. "I will give my best. Thank you, Bucky," you express sincerely, your voice filled with appreciation.

When Bucky sees your smile directed at him, he's taken aback. He's accustomed to seeing you with a groggy expression around him, so your genuine smile catches him off guard. It's a small gesture, but it makes him feel strangely reassured as if you're starting to trust him.

"Sister," Conroy pipes up, interrupting the moment with his childish voice.

Bucky rolls his eyes at the interruption, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

Conroy leaps toward you eagerly. "I'm full and I want to sleep. Read me a bedtime story, please," he requests, his excitement palpable.

However, before Conroy can reach you, Bucky swoops in and lifts him up. "Your sister is going to read me a bedtime story," he announces, a playful glint in his eye.

Conroy frowns in confusion. "But you're an adult. Why do you want to listen to children's stories?" he questions, his curiosity piqued.

You step in to defuse the situation, sensing the tension between the two. "Guys, calm down," you interject, your voice gentle yet firm. "I'll read it to both of you," you offer, hoping to restore peace and harmony to the moment.

As Conroy and Bucky settle into their respective armchairs, a palpable tension fills the room as they exchange glares.

You clear your throat, breaking the silence, and begin to read another bedtime story, hoping to diffuse the tension between the two.

"Once upon a time, there lived a mischievous squirrel named Sammy in a magical forest far, far away. Sammy was known throughout the forest for his clever tricks and daring escapades. Sammy's adventures took him to every corner of the forest, from the tallest treetops to the deepest, darkest caves. Along the way, he encountered many colorful characters, including wise old owls, friendly rabbits, and even a grumpy bear with a heart of gold-."

As you reach the story's climax, you notice their eyelids drooping, and before long, they both drift off into a peaceful sleep.

The soothing cadence of your voice coupled with the enchanting tale seems to be lulling them into a peaceful slumber.

You smile softly to yourself, feeling a sense of accomplishment as you witness the calming effect your storytelling has on them.

With each passing moment, their breathing becomes more rhythmic, and their bodies relax into the comfortable armchairs.

You quietly close the book, careful not to disturb their rest, and bask in the serene atmosphere of the room.

********

The next morning, Bucky wakes up feeling refreshed.

As he rises from his chair, he notices that Conroy is still sound asleep. Leaning down, Bucky can't help but admire the child's peaceful expression and chubby cheeks, finding him unexpectedly endearing. However, he knows all too well that Conroy's innocent appearance belies a sharp tongue that can test even Bucky's patience.

The aroma of something sweet wafts through the air, drawing Bucky's attention to the kitchen. Surprised, he finds you cooking pancakes—a sight he never expected, as he rarely sees anyone use the kitchen, let alone cook.

"Morning," you greet, turning off the stove and wiping your hands on your apron as you acknowledge Bucky's presence.

Bucky squints slightly against the brightness of the morning light streaming into the kitchen. The room seems to radiate with a warm and inviting atmosphere that he's not accustomed to experiencing.

"Uhm, morning," Bucky responds, still adjusting to the unexpected scene.

You take a recorder out of your pocket, explaining your idea from the previous night. "I thought ahead and recorded myself reading several children's stories," you explain. "There may be times when I can't be here to read to you, so this way, you'll always have something to listen to."

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, impressed by your foresight. "Thank you," he murmurs sincerely.

"You want to try listening to it?" you offer, extending the recorder and a pair of earphones to Bucky. "Let me know if it's not good."

"Sure," Bucky replies, accepting your earphones and recorder. With a nod of appreciation, he puts on the earphones and presses the play button, eager to hear your recorded stories.

As Bucky listens to the recorded stories, he notices something unexpected—the faint sound of your breath in the background, almost as if you're beside him.

Intrigued by the intimate detail, Bucky finds himself drawn into the story, eager to experience the magic of your storytelling once again.

"Once upon a time, in a land of eternal winter, there lived a lonely snowflake named Frosty," the recording begins, your voice gentle and soothing. "Frosty longed for companionship, but no matter where he drifted, he found himself alone in the icy wilderness,-."

As Bucky continues to listen to your story, he finds himself growing increasingly relaxed. The soothing cadence of your voice and the gentle rhythm of your breath lull him into a state of tranquility.

Suddenly, his eyelids begin to droop, and he feels an overwhelming heaviness wash over his body. Before he can even register what's happening, his vision blurs, and everything fades into darkness.

You watch in shock as Bucky loses balance, the earphones slipping from his ears. "Bucky!" you exclaim, rushing to his side.

In just two short minutes of listening to your story, Bucky's body dropped to the floor.

Concerned, you gently shake him, trying to rouse him from his sudden slumber. "Bucky, wake up!" you urge, but he remains unresponsive.

Panicked, you quickly check his pulse and breathing, relieved to find that he's still alive, albeit deeply asleep.

As you try to process what just happened, you can't help but wonder—did your story really have that much of an impact on him, or is there something else going on with Bucky's health?

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Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[yuurivoice]

We've hit the stage of Echoes of Evalas' creation that I'm spending a lot of my quiet time with scenes and characters, including time that is usually occupied by...well, nothing creative. At least, it hasn't been creative time in a long while.

Some of the dearest and most important moments of my young creative daydreaming was before bed. If I might overshare, it was specifically as I lay in bed and tried to drown out unpleasantness I'd hear from other rooms of the house. I'll spare you the details.

I didn't even have music at the time, though in later years as I became a depressed teen, I'd throw some music on my computer to fantasize and fall asleep to.

Oftentimes, these stories and characters I'd contemplate were favorites from various things I enjoyed. In time they'd adapt and evolve into something of my own, in worlds and stories of my own making.

Sometimes it wasn't so grand. There were no sweeping narratives or adventures. Just some self insert character being comforted by a friend or a lover.

Recent nights, I've thrown on my EoE playlist and let my mind wander. I haven't really done that in a long time. Haven't had the need to these days. I'm not running from much. Life is quiet. But as I start to turn over more stones and find what's beneath some of the characters and themes I'm exploring, I've found myself here again.

I don't know if anyone will love what I am making, and I never have. Every person who has let my characters and stories into their hearts means a whole lot to me, though. I've not forgotten when all of this was nothing more than a comfort to myself to soothe away all my fear and loneliness.

As it all starts to come together I'm seeing a stark difference between where I am at as a writer and creative in general in comparison to BitterSweet Chapter 1, as I've revisited it recently.

The pieces were there but it's so clear to me that I didn't have the conviction that I do now. I didn't have the comfort or security of knowing that I can take chances and be bold. I thought I had to color within the lines, and lacked the confidence to really let it rip.

So as much as I've been looking forward, I've also looked back. Further back than I typically like to.

When Charlie said he never thought he'd be this old, that was real shit man. I was a morbid kid. I have a crystal clear memory of being on a school bus in Washington state. Blink 182 just dropped an album. I hate Blink 182, but I listened with a friend whose face I can barely remember. As the high schoolers got on the bus I remember thinking...damn, I'll never be that old.

Not sure what could possess a child to feel that way. Or how that feeling could linger for years. It took a long time to find enough faith in myself to live. Now that I've got it, I think I'm encouraged to give breath to those lost dreams and wandering fantasies. Echoes of Evalas is an exploration of that.

I can't even grasp what that really means yet.

Things like faith, anger, insecurity, and longing for change. I've rattled a lot of locked doors while digging up this story and putting it together.

I am uneasy. That's probably how I've ended up writing this essay in bed, and boy is it a rambling one.

There was a point somewhere. I am excited for what's to come, but uneasy. Not out of fear that anyone will like it or content brained thinking like that. More like...a reverence for this magical thing I've found. Storytelling is magical for me. And that's not me waxing poetic, I think there's something terrifying and beautiful about it. It is the thing I was made to do, and the actual experience of crafting a story like this isn't just fun. I'm removing chains from my soul.

If that ain't magic, I don't know what is.

Anywho, I need to sleep. If you read all that, thank you for putting up with my yapping. 💖

[scaredpigeons]

Aqua Regia V: Subatomic interactions

Previous chapter // Next chapter // First chapter

Neuvillette x fem!reader

Word count: 3.6k

You confirm a few theories, resulting in a delicate moment between the two of you, and learn more about what the hell has been going on the past few months, as much as you’d like to deny yourself.

Authors note: some subtle zhongchi references, cuz I’m literally insatiable and have been reading a bit of zhongchi in my spare time. I think they’re cute :) also Neuvillettes instincts are so fucking cute to me, AND THE PURRING??? Yessir

“So, Neuvillette. You’re not human, are you?”

His gaze snapped to you, your face illuminated by the fire. He’d read somewhere in a book that sitting alone with someone in a dark room, hiding from a storm with the comfort of a fire was an intimate setting, but that really wasn’t his intention. 

The lights in his living room had just been replaced, but he found the harsh white lights of the new bulbs too stark and sterile, and was used to reading by candlelight anyways, so he preferred to keep the lights off, even when he didn’t have guests, which was…. Always. 

You were the first guest he’d had in his home in his most recent memory, any others being the melusine, and well— lady furina, on the odd occasion. 

“What gave you that impression?” He would not outright confirm or deny your observation, just hoping to skate by this encounter without incident. 

Every terrible burning instinct in his body was satiated in this moment, for the first time in months— he didn’t feel like he was actively losing his mind. 

Yes, there were a few more troubling thoughts, like how looking at you swaddled in his clothing made something inside him want to purr, or how he desperately wanted to take you and put you down in his nest, surrounded by all the other things he treasures most. 

Do I treasure her? He thought.

 As much as he wanted to refuse himself, he knew it to be true. He valued you above most things these days, and having you in his home seemed to calm him, though he couldn’t fathom entirely why. 

“Well, based on my observations over the past few months, local history, and some interesting conversations with the melusines, I’ve got a couple theories.” You said simply, lifting the cup of tea he’d brought you a few minutes ago to take a sip. He hadn’t wanted to leave your side, but after a while of sitting and not speaking, you had asked politely for it, so he had to oblige. 

“And what theories have you come up with?” He asked, genuinely curious. 

“In the beginning, before I came to work for you, there were many among us who thought perhaps you were the true hydro archon in disguise, with Lady Furina just being a figurehead of sorts. But of course, after the trial of the hydro archon and the flood, we all learned that to be untrue. With the limited information that was leaked to the public, we all learned that furina had been standing in on behalf of the hydro archon as a figurehead, yes—but only to circumvent the prophecy in some way— to save us. But that still left you.” 

He found that he truly enjoyed listening to you speak. Your voice was soothing, and hearing your thoughts made something within him very calm, satiated. He nodded for you to continue. 

“After getting to know you, it became clear to me that you aren’t human, though anyone who can pick up a historical text would know that based on the amount of years you’ve spent being the Honorable Iudex, of course.” You paused to look at him, and he found himself feeling a bit flush at how intently your gaze trailed across his face. He’d not felt flustered in another’s prescience like this in a very long time. 

“Your mannerisms, your demeanor, it was all very curious to me, so I did some research. And well…” you wrung your hands in your lap before clutching back onto the blanket he’d placed around you. “To make a long story short, and please, don’t laugh or be upset with me, I mean, it could be very far fetched but—“

He called out your name, gently silencing your stammering. “Please, I will not be offended or upset by anything you have to say to me.” 

You let out a breath, steadying yourself. “Neuvillette, are you perhaps… the hydro dragon of legend, taken human form?” 

He blinked at you. 

His heart lurched at how perceptive you were, how much thought must have gone into this conclusion. You said you’d watched his mannerisms, you’d done research? And you came to the correct answer because it was you.

Of course you would. 

Suddenly, he felt a chuckle pull from his chest, and he laughed into the dimly lit living room as you stared at him. 

“You are… truly mesmerizing.” He said, voice light and still ringing with his amusement. He once again smelled that sweet aroma that seemed to follow you, but brushed it off.  “I cannot believe that you came to such a conclusion on your own. You didn’t speak to the traveler, did you?”

“What?” You said, scrunching your nose a bit. “No, of course not! I read a couple books I bought from Liyue on dragons, and the similarities were just too much to ignore!”  You scooted closer, facing him head on now. “Are you saying I'm correct?” 

He laughed again, unable to stop himself. “Incredibly so. Though I wouldn’t say I've ‘taken human form’. For reasons unknown to even me, I was born in this form. I’ve learned to shape it throughout the years to better fit into human society, but there are a few things that refuse to leave.”

He sheepishly looks up and to the side, gesturing to his horns with his eyes. He knows they are slender and sleek, and to the uninterested eye, could be mistaken for some kind of hair ornament. 

“Oh!” You said, sitting even closer, your eyes burning with excitement. “I’ve always wondered what they were! Are they horns? May I…” your hand reached out, only for you to pull it back harshly. 

His chest ached. 

“I’m sorry, that's rather inappropriate of me, I shouldn’t ask.” You said, dejected and pulling away. 

His body screamed for you to be closer, and so he obliged. 

“There’s no need to worry, you’re just curious. You may touch them, if you’d like.” He said, trying to keep his voice steady. 

Your eyes sparkled once more, and you smiled brightly at him. “Really?” 

He nodded, bending forward a bit to bring his head more level to you. 

He held his breath as you reached out your hand, and when your soft skin brushed against the base of his horn, his spine nearly buckled. 

He didn’t touch his horns often. They were soft, sleek and malleable, not a traditional type of horn, not like other dragons. If he had to describe them, they’re more similar to antennae than anything else, soft yet firm, perfect to trail behind him in the water for ease of swimming. 

He occasionally touches them when styling his hair, but mostly they lay unbothered on his head, maybe getting squeezed between his back and a chair every now and then when he wasn’t paying attention, but it was rare. 

So when your delicate hand stroked along the smooth skin of his left horn, he had to keep his composure, because it was the most pleasurable thing he’d felt in a very long time, perhaps even ever. 

You cooed your amazement at him, your fingertips stroking gently down to the tip of the top most tine, and his body let loose an involuntary shiver, which he hoped you didn’t notice.

When you slipped your hand further and brushed along down towards the bottom tine he steadied his spine, ignoring the throbbing between his legs and bracing himself, though he had no idea how to stop the violent purring noise that rumbled from his chest. 

You certainly had noticed that, jumping back a bit on the couch, most likely startled. 

“Oh!” You said, holding your wrist with your other hand.  

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to stop before it got even more out of hand, so incredibly embarrassed. 

“Ah— my apologies. I forgot how sensitive they can be.” 

“Thats… did you…. Was that a purr?” 

He could quite literally feel the heat rising to his face, and he was sure he looked so childish in this moment. 

“Ah, well. You see… I—“ he stammered. “Yes?” 

Much to his surprise and enjoyment, you let a bright giggle loose into the dark room, falling back into the cushions as it overtook you. 

He stared, eyes surely shining as you laughed and laughed, and he nearly didn’t notice the rumbling start up once more, coughing seconds too late to cover it.

“Dragons purr when they are content?” You giggled, trying to right yourself. “Like cats?” 

He could feel the tips of his ears heating up, how embarrassing. Yet the gentle smile on your face was anything but mocking. 

In fact, he thought you looked rather intrigued, interested in learning more. 

“Ah, yes.” He tried to look anywhere but you, hoping you weren’t paying too much attention to his other bodily reactions. “Content, among other things.”  

“That's fascinating! How have you managed to hide that all this time? I’ve never once heard you slip up before!” You leaned forward in your excitement, eyes sparkling with wonder. 

His eyes wandered across your face, falling to your lips, so soft looking, such a warm smile. 

“Well, I’ve not…” he didn’t have the words, didn’t understand how to explain that you were changing him. That he was losing control of himself with every passing moment he was surrounded with your presence. 

“No one has been so close to me in a very long time.” He murmured, watching the breath catch in your chest. “No one has touched me with a gentle hand in centuries.” 

Now that he’d let the words slip from his lips, he realized the magnitude of their meaning. Yes, he was incredibly touch starved. He just hadn’t noticed until he found himself craving your touch. 

He watched his words register in your mind, the gears turning as your eyes welled. 

“Neuvillette, sir…” you sounded sad for him, of course you did. You were always so caring and empathetic. 

“My apologies, I shouldn’t have burdened you with the weight of such a statement.” He scrambled to try and rectify this, to bring that smile back to your lips. 

“No, sir, it’s—“ you squeezed your eyes shut, probably willing away your sadness. Something you did often when your emotions became to large, one of your little quirks he found so incredibly endearing. “This may be inappropriate of me to ask, but may I be a gentle hand?” 

He gaped at you. 

“I—“ you stammered. “That came out wrong, I mean… what I meant to say—“

“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind.” He cut you off, something he didn’t often do. “I’d like that very much.” 

You blinked, visibly swallowing as you settled down beside him, facing him directly. Your delicate hand reached up, just a simple press of your palm to his cheek, nothing more. 

A swell of emotions surged through him, so much that he couldn’t regulate himself, and he leaned into the touch as a single tear fell from his eye. The storm continued to rage outside, though he wasn’t certain it was his doing any longer. Perhaps a merciful act of Focalors from the beyond to keep you here with him for as long as possible. 

“Will you… teach me more about dragons?” You said, moving your hand to run your fingers through the loose hair by his temple. 

A deep purr rumbled through his chest, and your smile returned. 

————

At some point during the night, you’d fallen asleep to the sound of Neuvillette’s voice. 

In your lax lucidity, you remember him moving you to lay properly on the couch, a soft pillow beneath your head and another warm blanket that smelled like him. 

He pulled it over your shoulder, and you had thought that perhaps he’d kiss you, nothing salacious, perhaps a peck on the forehead or cheek. He hesitated for a moment, but you’d kept your eyes closed, hoping. 

But ever the gentleman, he’d just stepped away to leave you to sleep, and you’d drifted back off into a pleasant slumber. 

A few months had passed since that evening, and you wish you could say your relationship to Neuvillette hadn’t changed, but you’d be telling a blatant lie. 

You sat at Cafe Lutece with Miss Navia, a rare treat since she was so busy. She had a meeting with the traveler this afternoon however, and invited you to join. 

A cute, high pitched voice called out your name and Navia’s, and you turned to see Lumine and her companion Paimon wave as they came closer. 

They sat down, exchanging greetings with you as they settled and ordered their drinks. 

Paimon said your name once more, grabbing your attention from your plate of macarons. “That's a beautiful necklace! Paimon’s never seen you wear something so fancy!” 

You smiled, looking down and touching it gently with your fingertips. A delicate silver chain holding an intricate casing that held a large tear drop shaped condensed crystal surrounded by other glittering gems. They reflected the sunlight beautifully, and Paimon was right, you’d never owned a necklace so beautiful before. 

“Ah, thank you.” You said. “It was a gift from Neuvillette, he gave it to me after I gave him a couple books I’d purchased from Liyue.” 

“Oh, how lovely!” Navia cooed. “I was going to ask where it came from but I didn’t want to seem rude.” 

You waved her off, telling her it wasn’t a big deal, but her furrowed brow said she had more on her mind. 

“Say, didn’t Neuvillette also gift you that pocket watch you had last time I saw you?” She asked. 

“Ah,” you flushed. “Well, yes, but that was only after I found the most beautiful shell one afternoon by the beach, it reminded me of the colors of his broach, so I figured he’d like it!” 

Navia’s grin turned mischievous, and her eyes thinned with mirth. “Didn’t he also get you a new raincoat after yours got that nasty tear in it?” 

You scrambled to remember why he had done that, what you had given him that had warranted that particular gift. You took a sip of your tea as you stalled. Suddenly, the usually silent traveler spoke up. 

“When did you and Neuvillette start courting?” 

You nearly spat your tea all over her, face heating up as if you’d steeped your water with pyro flower stamens and not herbal green. 

“Pardon me?” You coughed. “Courting? What makes you think that we’re courting?”

Lumine looked a little chuffed, smirking a bit behind a gloved hand. 

“Dragons view acts of service and gift giving as acts of courtship. You didn’t know this?” 

“No?” You squeaked. Your books on dragons had a section on mating, but you’d been too embarrassed to even consider reading that chapter. 

“Paimon’s seen this all before. An acquaintance of ours had been giving another dragon we know all kinds of gifts and mora, only to find out far too late what he was actually doing!” 

“I think Zhongli knew he didn’t understand, Paimon. He didn’t seem too broken up when Childe left.” Lumine says, rolling her eyes. 

“But Paimon has seen the weird longing looks he gives Childe! Mr. Zhongli isn’t very subtle.” Paimon turned to you, looking a little frustrated. “Does Monsieur Neuvillette look at you all longing and googly eyed too?” 

You were sure your face could not be anymore red. 

Lumine frowned at her floating friend. “Paimon, that’s not a very nice question to ask, I mean look at her— she didn’t even know they were courting!” 

“Oh gods.” Your mind was going a million steps a minute. “I’ve brought him lunch every day for months.” 

“Oh boy.” Paimon sighed. 

“I had water specially ordered from a volcanic spring in Natlan! In the middle of a Warzone!” Your voice was getting louder. You clutched your coat further around your frame, shaking. 

Lumine cringed, and Navia started laughing. 

“I knew it!” She said, looking between your shrinking form and Lumine and back to you. “I knew he was head over heels for you, I was just waiting until you realized!” 

You popped a macaron into your mouth, but the flavor was wrong, everything was on high alert, your face was hot. You pushed your plate towards Paimon, knowing her love of snacks. 

“Here, Paimon, you can have these.” You stood, ignoring Paimon’s squeals of glee and Navias voice of concern, asking you where you were going. 

The cold November breeze washed through you, and you clutched your coat tighter once more. 

Your lunch break was over soon, you had to get back to the Palais before Neuvillette had trial prep. 

Oh gods. How were you going to face him? Did he even know what he was doing? He’d expressed to you that he was unsure about a lot of things about his own species, but was he unaware of the courting customs? 

You ignored the odd looks people gave you as you shuffled along. Before you realized, your feet had carried you to the Palais, and straight into Neuvillettes office. 

He was there, sitting at his desk and sorting through the folder you had compiled this morning for today's trial. 

“Good afternoon,” he smiled, “did your lunch break with Miss Navia go well?” 

You froze, eyes wide. You looked around his office, noting the little gifts and trinkets you had gotten him, though not all of them. The shell sat on his desk, the books on his bookshelf. There was a framed picture of you and a bunch of the melusine that Sedene had given you, and you had asked to hang it up in here, so you could see it at work and be reminded of the moment. He’d been particularly happy to do so. 

You thought back to all the gifts he’d given you, all the lingering looks and soft and innocent touches that may not have been as accidental as you thought. 

He seemed distracted, much to your relief. 

“It went fine,” you cleared your throat. “I saw the Traveler and Paimon for the first time in a while, which was nice.” 

“Good, good.” He said, pulling an envelope out of his desk drawer. “Speaking of The Traveler—“

He rounded his desk, and you did your best to steady your spine as he walked towards you, tall and intimidating but oh so handsome. Your knees felt weak.

“It seems that The Traveler, Lady Furina and Sedene have been conspiring against me, and are planning a ball of sorts for my birthday next month.” 

Your attention was caught, and you perked up. “Oh? I didn’t know it was your birthday soon, I’m sorry.” 

He chuckled, something he did a lot more often around you these days. 

“Worry not, my dear. Sedene asked me to give you this, which is an invitation to a preparation meeting. It seems they would enjoy it if my most cherished assistant was involved in the planning.” 

You flushed, he’d been saying things like that more often, calling you dear, telling you that he cherished and valued you. Were you just realizing this now?

“Oh,” you said, trying to make sure your voice didn’t shake as your thighs twitched. “I’m glad.”

Neuvillettes pupils dilated, and you could tell he was trying to hide it, but his deep inhale was a telltale sign that he could smell that sweet smell he’d mentioned lingered around you. 

You still hadn’t had the gall to tell him what exactly it was, prove your theory that he was literally smelling your arousal, your fluster—because your shame was too great to allow you otherwise. 

Besides, he’d stopped mentioning it a while ago, but you could tell when he could smell it. You could tell. 

You wanted to smack your cheeks. But you took the envelope, shivering slightly when his warm fingers brushed yours, the fabric of his gloves was so soft. 

“So, is there anything you would like me to incorporate into this ball that would make you happy?” You asked, wanting to move past the throbbing feeling that came whenever he complimented you. 

He breathed deeply again, and you could almost see a twinge of pink dust his cheeks. 

“Ah, well— if I had it my way, there wouldn’t be a ball at all.” 

“Oh?” You said. 

“I do not think I need to be celebrated in such an ostentatious manner, but Lady Furina insisted that because we held so many birthday balls for her throughout her reign, it was only fitting that I have at least one.”

You smirked, watching his fluster deepen. “Well I have to agree with Lady Furina, our honorable leader should be celebrated at least once in his new reign.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes a bit as he turned away from you. Such a personal act he would not have been caught dead doing mere months ago, but it seemed he was getting more and more comfortable with you by the day. 

“I simply do not think it worth the splendor.” He walked back towards his desk, sitting down to go over his files once more. 

“So there's nothing specific you’d like me to do for you?” You insisted. 

“Ah, if you must,” he sighed. “Absolutely no fried foods, please. And—“ he gave a sharp tsk, pinching his brow. 

“What is it, sir?” 

He shook his head. “Forgive me for saying this, for the sake of it sounding incredibly childish, but if there is Fonta served at this celebration, I will simply leave.” 

You smirked, holding in a laugh that you so desperately wanted to release. 

“No fried foods, no fonta. Got it.” You turned to leave, but lingered when he called your name to get your attention once more. 

“Yes?” 

“You’ll be attending, yes?” 

You froze, realizing that yes, it would be quite obscene of you to not attend a ball you were helping to organize, but you have absolutely no idea what you’re going to wear. 

“Of course, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You smiled, that was a problem for another day. 

He seemed to relax, sighing in relief. “Good, it will be much more bearable with you there with me.” 

[lixiebokie]

we can’t be friends

idol: niki x reader

warnings: none, partially proof read

chapter 1

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

it wasn’t like her chose to be new.

it wasn’t her choice to pack up your childhood and move to a completely different part of the country.

so why was everyone acting like it was?

the only plus side of coming home was she could think of is seeing sunoo for the first time in 7 years.

or so she thought. on the car ride here, his mum had been flarnting of how she couldn’t wait for her to be back. hoping her arrival will bring sunoo back to how he once was.

boarding school was hard but she enjoyed being there. the high expectations they had was all made up for in the nights they had in the dorms. from secret sleepovers to sneaking into the main hall after hours the girls she was friends with always found something to entertain themselves. her scholarship had ran out last year, but she’d begged her to pay a few more months so she could be with her friends just that little while longer.

the goodbye was hard, she’d been with them for the past seven years and not waking up to them every morning was going to be strange to say the least. but she did miss her family and seeing them once again was something she’d been craving for a while.

the travel between the school and her family home was more than a few hours just going one direction so she stayed at school while most of the other girls went home for holidays. she spent most christmas in her dorm on facetime unwrapping small gifts her aunt was able to send in the post.

their house looked different from their old house.

the walls were a darkish grey colour and not a single family photo was seen except a picture of them from many years ago sat on the mantal of the fire place on the other side of the room.

sunoo must have been 8-9 at most, she was no more than 7. big toothy grins with what teeth hadn’t fallen out. sunoos hair was neatly on his forehead while hers was up in two tight pigtails and curled at the bottom. but why wasn’t there any recent photos? she had mentally prepared herself for a home where the pictures were not including her but no where to be shown at all.

she could hear his mother shouting on the phone in the other room.

she couldn’t properly hear what was being said but she could definitely make out sunwoos name. she sounded angry shouting something along “you promised.” y/n would say she didn’t care sunwoo wasn’t here to greet her but she couldn’t. over the past few years her aunt had told her over their nightly calls how rebellious he’d gotten since starting high school and meeting new friends. it scared y/n abit, if she was going to around him now what trouble would she be pulled into?

“sorry, mum will be in in a moment.” sunoos older sister wooji spoke sitting on the couch grabbing the remote next to her.

“where’s sunoo?”

“out with his friends probably, i don’t really keep check now days.” she popped a grape in her mouth.

dinner was even more awkward.

sunoo had gotten home around an hour after his mother put the phone down.

he didn’t look how she remembered.

his shine smile was now a dark gaze, silky blonde locks were now messy and black and his soft boy aesthetic she’d seen on his mothers facebook a few years ago was long gone.

and was he wearing eyeliner?

he didn’t talk much, just took a few bites on his food then went on his phone.

she seemed also disappointed, she thought sunoo would be exicted to see her.

i mean they were so close 7 years ago. a lot had obviously happened in that 7 years. neither were children anymore and hadn’t experienced their teen years together so was this predictable?

“sunoo aren’t you going to greet y/n?”

wooji nudged him. sunwoo looked up waving his hand slightly before going back to his phone. he was so..cold? wooji gave a weak smile before going back to her food.

“i’m excited to start your school next week.”

he gave her a confused look before going back to his device. “why it’s a shithole nothing like your posh school.”

“kim sunoo-“ but before she could say anything else he was already up and walking to his room upstairs.

——

“you coming out?” heeseung had asked parked outside sunoos house.

“hurry my engene has been running for ages waiting for you!” he heard jay shout into the phone.

“i told you guys, i can’t my cousins staying so i’m stuck here.” he whispered looking out the window to jake in the back seat of the beaten up car who had his middle finger stuck up to him.

“and tell jake if he doesn’t put his finger down i’ll shove it up his arse.” he threw his two fingers back. “your cousins staying? that’s your excuse? just sneak out!” heeseung scoffed.

it was a bad excuse sunoo knew but he was already in shit for coming home late, he didn’t want to be rude and sneak out. well, not that he cared, but he knew she’d snitch.

“i can’t she’s staying in my room, and she’s a fucking grass from what i remember.” sunoo looked over to the bathroom we’re she was currently getting changed.

“is she hot?” sunghoon shouted into the phone.

“she’s 17.”

“oh shit never mind!”

“ow hoon my ear!” heeseung slapped the boy away. “anyway get out here quick or i’ll come up there and get you myself.”

“no, i can’t i have said like a million times-“

“omg you guys are so fucking boring, just leave him geez you’re driving me mad.” sunoo heard niki yell from probably the back of the car.

“we’ll see you tomorrow then loser.”

and in the next minute heeseung had hung up and jay drove off.

sunoo would admit he was annoyed he couldn’t go but if he wanted his allownece this week he may as well do something right. y/n walked out the bathroom placing down her bag next to the blanket sprawled out across the floor.

“i wouldn’t have said anything if you went you know.” sunoo sighed. “well theyre gone now so what you gonna do.”

she got into bed pulling the covers over her cold body as she looked up to sunoo. he was laying on his bed staring at the tv playing some old 80s show. he laughed from time to time but only a snicker. he was so different to how he used to be. was he angry that she had moved away? he didn’t seem happy for her to be back, definitely not as excited as his mother made him out to be. she turned holding back her tears and desperately trying to go to sleep.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

join the taglist!

taglist @yangjungwonnie @larnieboox88

author notes: first chapter yay i wrote this like 2 years ago so it needed some editing but the next chapter will hopefully be up tomorrow or in the next few days thanks for reading ❤️

[phoenixyfriend]

Entry of the Gladiators

Remember my Fake Sith AU? Yeah, so I got around to writing it.

I started writing this around a year ago, planning to finish and post for an event. I never finished. So. Here's what I have so far, and let's hope I can get around to finishing it at some point lmao.

The year is 7939 CRC, and Obi-Wan is one-hundred percent not moonlighting as a Sith Lord with a drawling accent and a linen suit. And Anakin surely isn't pretending to be his unhinged Sith second. And Ahsoka definitely isn't actually a vigilante. And Cody absolutely isn't enjoying the chance to manage an entire set of organized crime rings. And Rex certainly isn't seducing the half-mad head priestess of an evil cult. Totally.

Chapter 1: Wake Me Up (Before You Go-Go)

Fun fact: I went to upload the first chapter of this fic, which I started writing a year ago, and I forgot I had a title for the chapter, so I just slapped something together to put into the chapter title slot.

Then I went back to my planning document and it's the same damn chapter title.

I am very predictable.

----------

Anakin wakes up with a pounding headache. This is, against all wishes, a very familiar feeling for him. Unfortunately, it has almost never been a result of something fun, like alcohol. He’s much more likely to wake up drugged and chained by his enemies or recovering from grievous injuries than, say, boozing up.

Hondo incident notwithstanding, of course.

(Besides, Obi-Wan got drunk too. That makes it his fault.)

As he catalogues his remaining fingers and extremities past the pain in his skull, he hears others shuffling nearby. The Force isn’t warning him at all, so they’re probably friendlies.

There’s a quiet groan a few feet away, high-pitched, that is almost definitely Ahsoka.

When he sits up, it’s to more pain and the ugly little realization that Ahsoka must also be in pain.

Obi-Wan’s voice cuts in. “What did you do, Anakin?”

“Nothing!” Anakin protests, his own voice loud enough to set his headache off. He runs through his most recent memories in hopes of uncovering actual wrongdoing. He doesn’t seem to actually have any memories past entering the possibly-Sith-in-origin temple, though. That’s… a bad sign, in part because they are now outdoors and looking at a completely different sky. “You went into the sketchy temple, too. I don’t remember doing anything that could have knocked us all out, especially not knocked us out and transported us to what’s probably a different planet.”

“Sky’s orange,” Ahsoka notes, getting unsteadily to her feet. There’s a moment where it looks like she’s about to fall, but Rex is closer than Anakin, and reacts fast enough to steady her.

Anakin finally gets a full look around. His master, his padawan, his captain, and Commander Cody, who isn’t Anakin’s in any way, except as a friend, but that’s not an exclusive group, because ‘his friend’ could mean a lot of—

He’s getting distracted.

“If we’re lucky…” Obi-Wan says, stretching his back with an awful cracking noise. He eyes the sky with distaste. “If we’re lucky, the cloud cover will dissipate and let us see the constellations when night falls. We can figure out where we are then.”

“Anticipating hostility from locals, sir?” Cody prompts

Obi-Wan shrugs. “Don’t want to hedge our bets on there being locals. We aren’t where we were, and we aren’t in another temple, either. Most planets in the galaxy aren’t actually inhabited by sapient species…”

“But that’s mostly because most of them don’t have breathable air, isn’t it?” Ahsoka asks. Anakin pats her between the montrals, almost like Obi-Wan used to ruffle his hair when he was this small. Well, smaller. Ahsoka at fifteen tolerates this much better than Anakin at the same age.

Ahsoka at fifteen is, however, the same height as Anakin at thirteen, when Obi-Wan was still ruffling his hair.

“You’re right, Ahsoka. Since this planet does have breathable air and some vegetation, the chances of sapient habitation are relatively high,” Obi-Wan agrees. “So, we’ll see how it goes. If we can find civilization that isn’t hostile to us, we might get off by nightfall.”

Anakin has a feeling that’s a bit too optimistic.

(Continue on AO3)

[writefightandflightclub]

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Four (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running? 

Genre: a LOT of angst, some smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list). 

Author’s note: Ooh I really hope you enjoy this one! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. I so love to hear your feedback and chat more about this story! ILY :-*

Word count: 5.3k for this part. 

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

The rest of the evening passes in much the same way as the rest. You rejoin the group out front, Benny injecting some much needed fresh energy into the pack. He regales you all with tales of his most recent fights, delivers excruciating detail about his latest training regimen, and proudly shows off pictures of his new puppy. 

“Why am I looking at a picture of you, Miller,” Frankie jests as he holds up the screen to reveal an adorable golden retriever. 

If anyone notices that Santiago seems quieter than he had earlier in the night, they don’t say it. If they realise that you are engaging in very purposeful, overblown interest in Benny’s chat, it doesn’t get called out. There are a few exchanges between the two of you and Santiago that simulate old patterns. Lend weight to the pretence that things could even return to normal between you and him, given a little more time. 

Still, every time your eyes glance off of one another there is this intolerable heat, and you find you still can’t meet it head on. At times, your gaze is dropped hastily into the sand. At times, your eyes needle Frankie pointedly so that he might come to your aid, even if he does simply shrug and clasp the neck of his bottle a little more tightly. 

You know Santiago. And in a sense, contradictory as it may be, the hardest thing is how easy it would be to fall into your old patterns. Eventually, you begin to wonder if this tension and this awkwardness -this disconnect – is simply manufactured, in a way. Your heart’s tactic to keep him at arm’s length. A defence mechanism, because you ran away from a whole continent and yet you still fear ending up right back where you started if you can’t extricate yourself from him. 

At some stage, you tire of the beer-addled chat, and especially of Tom. Even more so of the effort of trying to make everything feel normal, whilst at the same time fearing what might happen if you could actually achieve that. What it would mean. You announce to the group that you’re going to take a long soak in the tub, and you head upstairs to the main bathroom, languishing in the sweet-scented bubbles, and attempting to wash the burdens of the day from your body, along with the gathered sweat and sand and smoke. Of course, you seem entirely unable to scrub this urge humming beneath your skin. 

When you eventually emerge there is a hush over the house, a cocooning darkness in the hallways – and you realise that at least some of the group must have retired to bed already. You’re tired, sure; but you’re still a little buzzed and not sure that you could sleep yet. You certainly don’t like the thought of staring at the ceiling, thinking about who might be lying awake too on the other side of your wall. 

“Hey. Cat. Everyone gone to bed?” you ask Frankie softly as you see him round the stairs to the landing in his socked feet, his footsteps purposefully softened. 

“Yeah, chiquita.”

“Already? Such old men,” you snicker gently. “What the hell happened?” 

Frankie’s subdued throaty chuckle cuts pleasantly through the dark. “It was a long drive,” he defends playfully; then, his tone shifts, an injection of caution evident. It puts you on edge. “Pope’s still out there though, if that helps.” Frankie must feel you bristle, as he raises his palms in the air in surrender. Or, more than likely, absolving himself of any responsibility. “Do with that what you want.” 

“Mmm-kay,” you say as nonchalantly as possible, and, from the sidelong glance Frankie throws at you, you know he isn’t buying it for a second. 

“You two okay? Something happen in the kitchen?” 

A flare ignites under your skin. You remember a different kitchen entirely. Not the one downstairs. Instead, you recall the hot, close air of the Colombian night. The flash of cool metal against your flushed skin as Santiago pressed you back and-

“-It was fine,” you lie tersely, and before Frankie can wheedle anything further out of you, you quickly hook your arm around his neck for a distracting, albeit halfhearted, goodnight hug. “’Night, Cat. Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.” With a grunt, he offers a quick, friendly kiss to your cheek, his scruff tickling up against you. 

“Yeah. G’night,” he returns, looking as tired as he probably feels. And, as you part ways in the hallway, Frankie watches with resigned interest at the fact you don’t similarly retreat to your room. That instead, you shuffle onward towards the mouth of the stairs. “Don’t let the Pope’s bite.” 

And then, with Frankie’s nonsensical and yet somehow apt warning ringing in your ears you head downstairs, meandering through the quiet house until you reach the exterior. 

You are arrested in the doorway at the thought of experiencing Santiago alone all over again, but at the same time, that is exactly the thought which propels your feet over the threshold and out into the balmy night air. 

You find him there, stretched out on his back in front of the dying embers of the fire, knees folded and pointed up to the sky. An orange glow is cast over the contours of his chest where his button-down shirt now falls completely open, the wire of his headphones snaking down and around his torso. He looks peaceful like this at first. Relaxed and loose, his chest rising and falling soporifically with his breath. His eyes are closed and he has his headphones in his ears, his fingers gently drumming and tapping where they rest against the softness of his bare stomach. Your eyes follow his happy trail, until the thatch of hair disappears beneath his shorts, now tugged tight over his thick thighs. 

You note the appealing cushioning around his middle forming rolls as he shifts marginally - to better prop his head up on a second cushion. He looks beautiful. Tranquil, at first glance. 

That is, until you see him tug in a huge breath, his ribs flaring with it. Until you watch him pinch the bridge of his nose before letting out a slow, sad exhale. 

You know in that moment that you should without a doubt turn around. That you should go right to bed, even if that does result in staring at the ceiling for hours with the image of his gorgeous body seared into your mind. But, you can’t do that. 

Instead, you already know exactly what you’re going to do. You’ve known since before you came downstairs. 

Truth be told, you’ve known since before you came to the beach house at all. You’ve known since your new fella asked you to be exclusive and you said “no”. You know, because you don’t know what’s good for you. 

“Santiago,” you say to announce yourself.  “Mind if I join you?” 

He pops a bud from his ear and opens his eyes. Somehow, he doesn’t even look surprised to see you standing there. 

He blinks at you wordlessly for a moment. He could say no, of course, but you know that he won’t. 

Because he doesn’t know what’s good for him either. 

He doesn’t respond to you at all in words. Instead, he rises, shifting to the corner of his tartan blanket, arranging himself cross-legged with a groan. He pats the opposite side invitingly, gesturing for you to join him. 

You hesitate. The setting, down on the sand on that measly square of wool, seems already far more intimate than the looming camp chairs had.

“Warmer down here,” Santiago encourages, as though reading your mind through how well he can read your body, evident tension snaking through your limbs. “Come and get comfy.” 

Okay. 

You hunker down, both legs folded to one side and your weight propped on the opposite arm. You take in the setting for a moment. The beach, shrouded in a blanket of dark. The sound of the waves shushing, and the gentle crackle of the fire. 

It would be calming, if the silence between the two of you wasn’t so taut. Still, you know Santiago will shortly reach to fill the silence. He always does. You don’t even have to wait all that long. 

“Good to see that Benny’s still… as Benny as ever.” 

“Yeah. Good to see some things never change.” You look at his lips. 

“His latest training regimen sounds pretty brutal, huh?“ 

“Uh huh.” Your eyes trail wantonly down his torso, and it’s not lost on you that he sucks his stomach in a little when your gaze drops to the soft rolls of him there. You’ve never seen a whiff of insecurity on the man before now. He’s confident as a rule - or so you thought. It’s appealing though, the softness of him. Sexy. You want to tell him that, but you don’t. Instead, you simply allow the soft smile to radiate over your face unfettered, your eyes warm and fond. 

“What are you listening to?” you nod down to his phone, headphones still strung from it and one bud remaining in his ear. Wordlessly, he passes you the spare bud and you slot it in, allowing the droning sounds to wash over you. Voices talking, and smatterings of financial and investment jargon. You quickly get the gist of it, and just as quickly relinquish the bud back to him. 

Your nose wrinkles. It’s not what you were expecting, honestly. “Financial podcasts?” 

He tilts his head to the side. Looks suddenly as old and mature and serious as you’ve ever seen him. “Gotta think about the future sometime, right?” He says it lightly, but even so, you are somewhat hurt by it. Hurt that he’s never managed to envisage any kind of future with you. 

“Right.” You nod, as neutrally as possible. 

He looks at your mouth. 

You note the brief fleet of pink tongue along the swell of his pillowy lower lip. 

You both let the silence hang there for a moment, full of possibility, and again, you know he will fill it. After all, you made it clear, right? You told him: don’t. Even if you want precisely what you asked him to deny you. “Did you see that documentary about the octopus on-”

“-I can’t get off anymore without thinking about you, Santi.” 

You interrupt him, and his jaw hangs slack for a moment, his eyes bugging out of his head as he fully registers your statement. Apparently, you don’t want to talk about Benny. Or podcasts. Or fucking octopi. You don’t want to fill the silence with meaningless chat. 

With Santiago, it had always meant something. You don’t want to stop that now. 

You let the words fall into his lap, and you aren’t even sure what reaction you were expecting. Therefore, you don’t even feel any particular type of way as you watch the multitude of emotions and stunted responses play out one by one across Santiago’s features. “Jesus, honey,” he eventually croaks. 

Then, his second-hand embarrassment finally jars you too. In a delayed flush of self-pity, you bury your face in your hands. “Fuck. How pathetic is that?” 

Santiago’s agape mouth finally closes then, a hard swallow bobbing down his corded neck. Your own self-deprecating laugh finally causes his face to split into a bemused and tentative grin. It is short-lived, however, his thick brows quickly drawing down. “You know. You’re giving me fucking whiplash over here, cariño.” 

“Shit. I know. I’m sorry. I just…” You tug your knees up to your chest for whatever comfort it can offer. “Honestly? I don’t want to talk about Benny, or whatever else. I love the guy but I… I missed you. I missed you and I just want us back. I want us to be okay, you know?” Santiago’s face twists in a mirror of your own, as if he doesn’t even know how possible that is anymore. “And, I don’t know how else to do that anymore – to make us okay - without… without that. I don’t know how to stop wanting you.” As you keep talking, your voice seems to break into a thousand pieces, as if sand in your throat is grinding it down, eroding the body and timbre of it away. “I try. I try, Santi, and it… I never…” 

Your name rises from his throat, and the sound is tired in his mouth. He knows what you’re asking him; and he doesn’t even seem surprised. “It’s a bad fucking idea.” 

“I know.” He’s not even wrong. “I know it is, but I… I don’t care anymore.” Emotion weighs down your tone. Makes it heavy. “It’s like a wound in me - the way we left it - and I just need…” Your eyes flicker and flit everywhere as you reach for the word, dancing around the scene, around his face, like the licking, greedy flames. 

You can’t find the word, the concept, the sentiment, but, as you search, Santiago’s voice filters through to you, certain and resigned. As though he understands perfectly what you crave after the wound that he left that night. “You need healing.” 

Your head whips towards him and you nod slowly, with conviction, searching his face for any sign that he might give it to you. For any sign that he might be able to repair you. He had hurt you, yes. But his fire was so hot that you think he is the only thing capable of cauterising the wound he left in his wake. The only one who can ignite you enough to heal you, as selfish and misguided as your desire may be. 

However, Santiago’s demeanour remains calm and cool even in the face of your desperation. You see only a vestige of desire dancing in his eyes now, as though all you had might truly be in the past. “You wanted out, remember?” he says thinly. With regret. He smiles even thinner than that. “No need to repeat your old mistakes, huh?” 

“I wanted out of that life, man. You were never a mistake.” 

“Heh. Don’t be so sure. If you know what’s good for you-“ 

Unconsciously, and with ill-timing, you shift on the mat in discomfort, rolling your spine to try and release some of the niggling, tight muscles – another old injury which continues to plague you long after the fact. 

“Still got that damn tweak?” Santiago asks, seemingly grateful for the diversion.  

You nod. “Mmm.” 

“Want my fingers?” 

You look into his eyes, mellow in the dancing light. How could you say no to that? “Please.”

“Come here then,” he encourages, shifting position to the edge of the porch step, his thighs spread wide apart and leaving space for you to settle on the sand before him. “Let me help you,” he insists, tipping up his chin, and his eyes softer and brighter again. 

You hesitate, but you can’t find it in you to decline the invitation. Can’t possibly find the strength to say no to his hands on you. To some relief, even in this form. “Turn around. Back to me, hermosa.” His voice is soft, so soft. Rough and undone around the edges like this frayed edge of land you perch on. 

You settle before him, and, just as he had promised, his fingers and his hands begin to inch over your body, on top of your clothes, seeking to unravel the knots. To bring you some relief. He used to do this for you all the time – always took care of you like this, and it’s bittersweet to recall a different, more innocent way his hands used to touch you. He would do this for you after training. After a mission. In the field. At the mouth of your tent when camped out in some desert or field or jungle. In the back of a Humvee on the way to the F.O.B.. At Benny’s fight nights when you’d had to sit in those shitty plastic chairs for too long. Whenever and wherever you needed it. 

His hands always knew how to fix you, long before you learned all the ways they could take you apart like a weapon in his palm. “Santiago,” you keen, as the pad of his thumb works into all your sweet spots. You don’t know what his name is in your mouth. A plea; a promise; a prayer; a poem. Perhaps all of these at once. 

“I know,” he soothes. “I know, cariño.” 

You close your eyes against the sudden tears you find threatening at the corners of your eyes. Knowing his touch again is everything you wanted, and, despite yourself, you are eminently glad it is happening like this. That he is giving, instead of devouring you, for if he did the latter, you don’t know that there would be anything left for him to take. 

His touch like this though, deft and tender, reveals that perhaps, there’s another way. That maybe, instead of burning you, Santiago could merely warm you. Maybe his flames only hurt because you had dared to get too close. Maybe you could simply learn to stay at arm’s length, where he had always attempted to keep you anyway. 

Still, that’s all very well, but… his touch - as it skims down your body - is enough to subsume you. It is a tide swallowing hot shores. It is a relief. A balm. Healing. 

“You’re so tight,” he complains gruffly, and you wonder if he is simply being careless, or whether his words were chosen ever so deliberately to remind you. To remind you of him praising you for that very same thing, under other circumstances. 

Regardless, Santiago shifts then, shuffling his hips closer towards you. His thighs -either side of your torso - boxing you in a little more tightly. Then, he braces one hand carefully against your shoulder, the other digging and kneading into your knotted muscles at the spot he always knew how to help you with. 

You moan for him, willingly, as he takes all your tension and melts it like butter. 

“Santiago,” you keen, and there it is again. A promise; a prayer; a poem. 

A plea. 

You hear him swallow thickly. Hear him exhale a sound like sea trapped in a seashell, his face dipped closer towards the shell of your ear in this new position. His breath continues to quicken as he manipulates your body, pliable under his sure hands, his warmth practically coiled around you like the fire around its fuel. 

“Do you want my fingers?” he repeats, voice now flecked with grit, even as he remains slow and languid, not whipped into any frenzy. “Tell me.” 

A stone plummets through your belly, sinking heat through your core at the mere suggestion he might touch you there too. 

“Mmmph,” you plead – a strangled affirmative wrung from your chest, and Santiago’s hand reaches around, calm and slow and tantalising. He winds his arms between your legs and his index finger trials along the seam of your shorts, up towards your clit like he’s following a carefully laid fuse line. Like he knows precisely how to detonate you, and all he needs is a spark. “You want my fingers here?” he purrs, and you moan his name, throwing your head back into the crook of his shoulder. “Want me to help you like this too?” 

You submit an unintelligible string of sounds to the air, which you hope he recognises as an affirmative. 

“Sssshhh,” he soothes, as his fingers deftly flick open the button of your shorts and you squirm in search of his friction. “It’s okay. I got you. I got you, cariño.” 

You sigh out a broken, guttural noise now, rolling your mound against his palm as his girthy fingers travel eagerly below the waistband of your clothing. Barrelling towards your want without dwelling on the implications even for a moment. On what this might mean. On what this may fix or further fracture. 

It is too much to think about that, and it is enough to know that you need some relief. 

Specifically, the kind of relief you have not been able to give yourself. The kind of relief you have not been able to find from elsewhere. The kind only Santiago knows how to give you. The only kind Santiago knows how to give you. 

“Fuck. You’re soaked,” he praises, all rusty-voice and practiced fingers, and with the ease that the thick pads of him glide through your folds you know it is true. “Holy shit, come here.” 

You would oblige if you were not so loose-limbed already; and so, in the next moment, Santiago is dragging you up towards him, settling your ass in the space before him on the porch step, so you sit a little higher. He is shucking your shorts and panties down and hooking your thighs over his parted, sturdy legs to spread you wide open. To give him better access to you so he can give you what you need. 

Your hands clamp down on his thighs like claws, your back flush against his chest and your head still languishing in the apex of his neck, feeling the steady rhythm in his shoulder as his arm reaches between your legs. With his other arm he simply gathers you up and holds you close to him, until the warmth of his skin seeps right through to yours. 

“Fuck! Santi,” you keen, voice ragged with need already as his fingers tease and circle where you need him. “More. Please, I need more.” 

He does not disappoint. He plunges a girthy finger into your heat, and the lack of resistance is telling, your cunt opened up and eager for him as the heel of his hand rocks a steady rhythm against your clit. He goes slower than you would like, but it turns out to be the exact pace you need -two fingers now- dragging molten heat through your core with each curl and pump and scissor he applies to your giving walls. 

“Ohhhh. Fuck!” 

“I know, baby. This is what you need, isn’t it? I know.” 

He does. He does know. He knows every damn inch of you and how to make you sing. 

“That’s it. I’ve got you. Don’t come, Princesa. Not yet.”

That’s easier said than done. Especially as his rough voice - all honey and grit - filters into the shell of your ear. As the fleck of his stubble rasps against your neck as he sucks an angry mark into your skin. Your core flutters in straight-out defiance of his orders then, and he feels you clamp down on him, tightening around his fingers. “Ah ah,” he scolds. “Hold on to it for me. Gonna get you there. Don’t worry. I got you.” 

Christ, you slosh around him as he makes you molten, and you feel his thighs begin to shake beneath yours. You feel his insistent hardness pressing at your back. “Fuck, princesa. I missed this pussy. Holy shit.” 

“Santi. I- I can’t hold on.” 

His thumb massages circles into your swollen, needy clit. 

“No, baby. Hold on for me. I know you can, huh? Don’t even think. Let me give you what you need.”

“Mmmphhh,” you moan out like a woman possessed as Santiago builds you up. 

He chuckles darkly into your neck, and smothers his spare palm over your mouth. “Shhhh. Quiet, hermosa. No-one else can take care of you like this, huh? I got you now.” 

The way he’s touching you, fingers speared inside your wet heat, is everything you’ve needed for so long. God, you’ve so needed him to help you like this. And now, he’s finally giving you relief. It’s welcome, and it’s good; but you still have enough about you, even in this state of becoming putty in his lap, to realise that he’s not giving you everything. You turn your head, tipping your lips wantonly up to him, but he won’t kiss you. His arousal presses insistently at your lower back but he isn’t making any move to get himself off. It seems obvious, even in this state of coming undone, that even as you lose yourself he won’t allow himself to get lost in you; not entirely. 

He’s navigated some extreme terrain in his time, but perhaps his feelings for you really are a jungle far too dense for him to navigate. 

Still, you certainly do not feel any lack, even if you get the sense he is holding back. It would be hard to feel any lack at all with his thick, warm fingers buried in you up to the knuckle, stroking and curling with precision against your swollen arousal, coaxing hoarse moans from your lips which he buries in the meat of his cupped palm. The pad of his thumb rubs haphazardly -almost roughly- in circles over your clit, puffy with need. Your thatch of hair is soaked, and your plumped folds are slick with your pearly, moonlit juices. 

“Holy fuck,” you rasp as Santiago’s  fingers draw a broad circle deep inside your walls, stretching you open and sending a delicious spiral of bliss through your core. He curls his fingers against your g spot, rocks his palm roughly against the mound of you, and God, it’s so good. You’re on the edge, but you still find you can’t quite let go. 

You don’t need him to give you everything, but you do need him to give you just a little more of what you’ve been craving. Just a little more healing. 

“Santiago,” you plead, tears of emotion and bliss and disbelief and sadness balling in your eyes. Relief at the fact you get to feel his touch again, and despair at how long you may next endure the lack of it. 

However, as though he senses what your body is telling him, that you are getting far too in your head by now to let go, you realise Santiago knows exactly what you need to get out of it. He always does. Always knows how to help you. “Mmpph,” you moan as he wraps his hand more tightly around your mouth and nose, playing with your air supply - just enough to provide a gentle thrill. To offer this simulation of a loss of control just long enough that you feel a secondary surge of adrenalin and arousal building within you. You gasp as he releases his palm and you suck his fingers easily into your mouth, wanting to feel full of him wherever you can. He obliges by shoving them deeper, over your tongue. 

“That’s it,” he praises, soothes, encourages, feeling it coming before you do, reading the signs in your body. Almost immediately, pleasure blooms out from your middle, completely engulfing you. 

You screw your eyes shut tight and you can barely even focus on his fingers pulsing in and out of your wet, suckering heat, or on this string in the middle of you being drawn so tight it’s about to snap. Instead you focus on him. On the warmth and sturdy form of him at your back. On the way he knows just how to touch you – where, and when, and how. The way he soothes you and relieves you. The familiar scratch of his stubble against your cheek. The soft, sweat-tacky rolls of his bare stomach cushioning your back, skin-on-skin where your t-shirt has ridden up your back. His meaty thighs. The familiar press of that hard promise up against you. But most of all his warm, sandy voice, slipping into the shell of your ear like the sounds and shushing of the sea. 

Hermosa. Cariño. Princesa. 

His words melting out of you like liquid pearls and making you shine. 

He praises you, and the sounds of him slip inside you just like his fingers, a smooth glide like the surge of the tide devouring an aching shore. His touch relieves the ache, the burn, the fire, the hurt, as you find your release. You gush over his hand, your mouth open with a hoarse, hollow moan, silently echoing the roar of the sea as your whole body becomes liquid on top of his. 

He holds you, and he works you through it, tears squeezed from your eyes with each wave of bursting, engulfing pleasure which radiates through your core – not blistering like the heat of your fire, but gentle and soothing. 

Your breath is ragged now. You have the feel of a tide between your legs.

You are sated, and yet you want more of him. You may feel healed in some ways, but your whole body still sings for him like a wound. 

He stays inside of you. Feels you for a moment, with a shuddered, satisfied moan you feel vibrate against your back before he draws his fingers out, painfully slow. You shudder too, your core still fluttering for him, and you would reach for him if you weren’t still boneless. Would seek to satisfy him too. 

“Fuck. I missed your fingers,” you purr. 

“Uh huh,” Santiago says, a little too morosely for your liking, and he unslots himself far too quickly from around your form. Far too quickly he comes to standing, leaving you feeling cold and alone on the porch stairs, shorts shunted down past your knees, exposing you to the night air. 

“Don’t you want… something for you?” you ask in confusion, in hope, eyeing the bulge tenting at his crotch and the way his hand is hung curled at his side, his fingers still shined from you. You enjoy all of that, but you certainly don’t enjoy the heaviness bedding down on his brow, and you reach to pull up your shorts as quickly as you can, the moment of relief fast-retreating, like the deceptive tide. 

“No,” he says firmly. “That was just for you.” 

You bristle at the implication in his words, your momentary bliss falling quickly away. 

He did you a favour. 

You were the one undone by your desire – your want. Not him. You were the needy one who couldn’t be without him. Couldn’t even get off without him. And damn. Here he is, slow and controlled and, for the better part, seemingly unaffected.

You know that’s not wholly true – that he does still want you, but your eyes still swim when you wonder if his desire is subdued compared to what it used to be. If it has lessened. 

Don’t you cause this frenzy in him anymore? This quickening, like he does with you? Is the flame burning in your chest -or your loins- not catching, any longer? Like the dying embers of this fire, is it almost out? 

Could there truly be an end to this? 

Soldiers. Friends. Lovers. 

What next? 

You had, at least, assumed something would be next. 

And so, as you regard him, stoic and impassive, you can barely even look at him. “You’re right, Pope. This was probably a bad fucking idea.” 

Of course it was. 

You should know better than to think you can take a piece of him without wanting to devour the whole. After all, you could never see him in fragments – only all at once. 

Had that always been your mistake, thinking that he could ever give himself over to you completely? He’s far too afraid of getting lost, even if he does hold the map to your heart in the palm of his hand. Strange then, because the palm of his hand is also where he has become so accustomed to yielding a weapon. Maybe for him, love and pain were always destined to feel the same.

You push past him, and you feel a pit open up in your middle. 

“Goodnight, buddy,” you say, your tone surprisingly sour so soon after that. “Thanks a bunch for the fingerfuck.” 

You guess the mindfuck came along for free.

You don’t want to hurt him. Don’t want to be bitter and to deepen this gulf between you all over again. But, apparently, you just can’t help yourself. 

You don’t know what’s good for you. 

[pattypanini]

Lay All Your Love On Me

Chapter 9-Double Dip

Josh Kiszka x Reader and Jake Kiszka x Reader

Word Count: 9,206 (we got carried away with this one <3)

TAGLIST

AN: Hi everyone! Here is the ninth chapter of Lay All Your Love On Me from me and @mar-rein12! We are soooo proud of this chapter and slightly scared for you guys. We are going to add a poll after this because we want to know when you guys would like us to post because as college students this gets very busy. We hope you enjoy the ninth chapter, Double Dip

Warnings: 18+, SMUTTTTTT, Unprotected sex, BDSM JOSH!!!!, DOM/SUB, Kinks, Choking, Impact play, Restraints, Spanking with object, Praise kink, Degrading kink, Dirty talk, Alcohol, Choking (not in the hot way, on drink), Fluff.

Y/n's POV

As you’re heating up your leftover pasta, you zone out thinking about last night. You couldn’t believe that had actually happened, but you didn’t regret it a single bit. You probably wouldn’t have even believed it happened, if it weren’t for Josh’s name under your recent calls.

Charlotte had only gotten back to the dorm around 1 today, and thank god for that because if she had seen or heard what you were doing last night you most definitely would never be able to look her in the eyes again.

You whip open the microwave door and snatch up your pasta, following with you dropping it after realizing how hot it is. Taking a seat at the dining table, you notice that Josh still hasn’t reached out today. After over analyzing the situation you immediately come to the conclusion that you must’ve done something wrong.

You stab at your food with your fork, anxiously. You glance over at the clock hanging on the wall, 3 o’clock. You let out a sigh. He should have texted by now. You take a small bite of your food and decide you were going to text him.

You didn’t want to come off as pushy or antsy, but you needed to know that everything was okay between the two of you.

As you pull out your phone to formulate your message, a notification pops up.

3:03pm Josh: Hey beautiful! I hope you slept well last night after our call😏 Wanna hear about the date I planned for us tonight?

It’s like he can read your mind.

3:04pm y/n: Yesss

3:06pm Josh: Well first I wanna ask something, would you like to try a little something different tonight.

3:07pm y/n: What is it?

3:09pm Josh: I was thinking about being a little bit more dominant and you be more submissive, let me take control. A friend of mine was talking about a BDSM test, idk if you ever heard about that, but it got me interested. And they say to do it with people you're comfortable with so I figured we could try it together, if you want.

Oh. That wasn’t what you were expecting to hear, but you’d be lying if you had said you weren’t intrigued.

3:10pm y/n: I’m down for anything Josh, you know that. And yes I have heard about it, but haven't really done anything though. So how do you wanna do this?

3:11pm Josh: Okay great, well first off we need safety words. Red means stop everything, yellow means stop momentarily or slow down, and green is good, understand?

3:12pm y/n: Yes.

3:15pm Josh: Amazing. So I’m gonna say it once and only once. I’m picking you up at 6 on the dot, we have reservations at 6:30 at The Earle. I want you to wear a tight black dress, the one that you wore for your New Year's post. Also a pair of black lace panties. I want your hair loosely curled and natural makeup. Pack an overnight bag with whatever you want. I’ll see you tonight mama.

3:17pm y/n: Damn, controlling much?

3:18pm Josh: Do you not like this, all you have to do is say red baby.

3:19pm y/n: No I like it, I like this dominant side of you.

3:21pm Josh: Perfect mama, I’ll see you tonight then.

3:22pm y/n: Can’t wait, Joshy.

You relax for a little while before you start to get ready. You slip on your tight black dress and the black lace panties he requested. You take a seat at your vanity doing some light, natural makeup and slide on your black heels. Lastly, you curl your hair, being sure to brush through it lightly to soften the curls up.

As you comb through your hair your mind is going wild, one because of the BDSM stuff. It was stuff you had seen in the media and were interested in it. A lot of the guys at Michigan weren’t into that kind of thing, most of them are pretty vanilla. Plus it was with Josh, someone you trusted. The main thing making your mind go crazy was the fact that you were going on a real date with Josh. You would have never expected things to lead to it after friendzoning him. But maybe feelings were coming back, or never left at all?

You glance at the clock after regaining consciousness, 5:57pm. How could it possibly be that time already?

With a few sprays of perfume, you grab your purse, overnight bag, and walk out the door to wait for him. To your surprise he wasn’t there yet, he’s usually pretty early for stuff. But as the clock hits 6 you see a black SUV pull up in front of your dorm as if you summoned him.

As he steps out of the Black G Wagon, daddy’s money surely, he makes his way to your side and opens the passenger door for you after taking your bags.

“Thanks Josh.” He lends you a hand, helping you into the car. He makes his way back to his side and puts your stuff in the back seat, and hops back into his.

He puts on his sunglasses before leaning over to you and placing a kiss on your cheek. You can’t help but blush at his subtable gesture of intimacy.

“You smell delectable y/n, makes me wanna take you right here in the back of the car.”

Your eyes open wide, “Oh, thank you!” You blush and a nervous laugh bubbles out. Why did you say it like that? You start to lean back towards the door, Josh mirroring you with a confused look, studying your body.

“Y/n, I need you to calm down okay? It's just me, we're gonna get a nice dinner, we're just adding a little bit of fun to it. Despite me being the ‘dominant’ one, you have full control of the situation.” Josh attempts to calm you down, as you take a deep breath trying to steady your anxiousness. He put his hand on your shoulder, rubbing it softly with his thumb.

He looked pretty delectable himself. He was wearing a dark green matching suit with a black collared shirt underneath, leaving a few buttons at the top open revealing a silver chain.

He brings his hands to the wheel after putting the vehicle into drive and begins to navigate you towards the restaurant, resting his right hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly every once and a while. “I know, I know. It’s just… I’ve never tried anything like this before and I don’t want to make a fool of myself.”

“Y/n, you could never make a fool of yourself, we're going to learn together. It’s my first time trying this stuff out too, I’m here for you and don’t ever want to make you feel uncomfortable. Your safety and comfortability is my top priority.” He reassures you, rubbing his thumbs back at forth on the top of your thigh.

You place your hand on top of his, giving him a gentle squeeze and a sweet smile. “Thanks Josh and I appreciate you for setting all this up, it was very sweet of you.”

“Anything for you mama” You feel the blush creeping up to your cheeks again. “ Also, we are almost there. It's a pretty short drive.” You both sit in comfortable silence for the next few minutes, until he pulls into the restaurant parking lot. “We're here, I wanted to get here early because they are weird about people being late.

You look at the clock. 6:11, oh. “Will they let us in early?”

“No they’re a bunch of assholes, you have to be there perfectly on time, can’t be early or late.”

You sat there not knowing what to do. I mean you could sit here without saying anything to each other but that didn’t seem like a fun option. But then a better option came to mind.

“Hey Josh, do you wanna do something fun?”

“Like, go to the backseat for fun, or something else.” His eyebrows shot up.

“Not backseat fun, that’s for later.” You say with a hint of sarcasm, knowing it's not actually sarcastic. “I mean like taking that BDSM test you were talking about, and maybe the rice purity test.”

“Are you sure you wanna expose yourself like that?” Leaning back in his seat more, getting comfortable.

“I mean I don’t care, I’m comfortable with you and would share whatever. I’m doing it more because I’m nosy and wanna know about your past.” You say reaching forward, fixing the collar of his shirt.

He looks down at your hand, sliding his tongue across his teeth, trying to conceal his smile. “Okay baby, whatever you want.” He pulls out his phone from his pocket, you pulling yours out of your purse.

You pull up the Rice Purity website and begin to check off the boxes, flying through it since you’ve done it with your friends many times before.

“Okay I’m done with the Rice Purity test, are we sharing our results yet?”

“No, do the other test then we can go over them.”

You nod your head and go on to the next test. This one was much longer, and had much more vulgar questions. Some that you agreed with strongly, some you were shading, and some that you had never heard of before, but wondered if you’d like it?

After a very long time of taking the test and waiting for Josh to finish he looks up from his screen.

“Okay y/n I’m done.”

“Yay so we can go over them now?”

“Hmmm no. It’s 6:28, so it’s time to go in. Looks like someone’s going to have to ponder my results until after dinner.” He gives you a fake smile quickly running around to your side and giving you a helping hand out of the car. He gives a quick kiss to your hand and shuts the car door.

He guides you to the entrance with his hand resting on your lower back. Opening the door for you, you're met with a lowly lit restaurant with lots of low toned chatter and a piano playing in the background

“Josh Kiszka, table for two.”

The hostess looks down to the planner and crosses off his name before grabbing menus and leading you to a table.

You're brought to a very nice area where the live music is playing. Josh pulls out your seat for you letting you sit down before pushing you back in. You could really get used to this pampered lifestyle.

“You’re such a gentleman Josh.”

“Just trying to treat you the way you should be mama. Nothing less than perfect for you, especially for how hard you’ve been working in the show.” He grabs his menu and begins to look it over.

“You have been working hard too, how can I repay you?”

“Oh trust me you’ll be repaying me tonight in bed.” He says with a smirk.

Your eyes shoot open and before you're able to say anything else the waiter approaches your table.

“Hello everyone, my name is Matthew. I'll be your server for today. Can I start you off with any drinks?”

“Yeah I’ll have a Moscow Mule and she’ll have a Dirty Martini. Thank you sir.”

He jots down the drink orders and hastily walks to the kitchen. It was a very busy night, lots of older couples, probably due to the fact that college students don’t typically have the money for a place like this. You took a look at the menu before you came and saw the expensive menu items. It was filled with lots of good seafood and many other options. You liked coming to restaurants prepared, having your meal planned out, and a backup option just in case.

You were planning on getting the scallops, but the steak also looked good from seeing them pass by with other waiters.

“What are you thinking of getting Josh?”

He sits leaning back in his chair, concentrating on the menu and slowly looks up to you. He looks so good.

“I usually get the same thing every time. The Beef Bourguignon.”

“Sounds fancy Josh, I think I’m going to have the scallops.” You smile looking deep into his eyes.

“You look so amazing tonight mama. The way you look under this lighting is driving me crazy.” He gives you a cute, little smirk.

Before you could say anything back, the waiter came over with your drinks. “Here you go sir, and for you ma'am, a dirty martini.”

“Thank you so much.” You give a polite smile and take a sip of your drink.

“Would you like more time to think over your order, or do we think you’re ready?”

“I think we’re ready. I’ll have the Beef Bourguignon and she will have the Scallops.”

“Sounds good, it's not too often I see men order for their girlfriends anymore. What a good boyfriend” Matt points out, while snatching up the menus.

“Oh, well he’s a great friend, not boyfriend but..yeah he’s great.” You feel the heat rise in your cheeks, no doubt looking like a freshly picked tomato.

Josh gives you a smile, not one of real kindness, but one that tells you you’ve fucked up.

“I’m sure he is. I’ll go put that order in.” As Matt walks away, your eyes follow his trail, you are scared to look back at Josh. When you shift your eyes to him, you’re met with a surprisingly pleasant look.

“Are you still too scared to just admit you like me mama? I know you do, or are you just trying to seem available to Mr. Matthew over there.” He reaches over the table to hold your hands between his.

“I…I wasn’t trying to, I just got caught off guard. I didn’t mean to…” You’re quick to defend yourself.

“I’m only kidding y/n, I’m just trying to get you riled up.” He squeezes your hands softly before bridging them to his mouth and kissing them. You take a few more sips of your drink and Josh notices it beginning to get low. “Do you want more darling? Or maybe a bottle of wine for us?”

“Up to you Josh, I thought you were ‘in charge’ for the night.”

He smirks to you, biting the inside of his cheek. “We’re taking this slow baby, but someone seems eager to be dominated, what a slut.” You can’t help but smile at his remarks. You did want to be dominated, badly. Before you could agree to his comment Matthew comes over to the table with another dirty martini.

“This is for you, I noticed you were getting low and don’t worry it’s on me.” Matt smiles at you with his bright white teeth, gently setting the glass onto the polished wood table.

“Oh my, thank you Matthew.” You accept his gesture and take the drink.

“Oh please, you can call me Matt miss…” You watch as his gaze lingers a little longer than it should’ve.

“Y/n.” You say noticing his hand was reached out for a hand shake.

“Well I’m going to check on your food. It should be out at any moment.” He smiles before noticing Josh’s near empty glass, and continuing to walk away.

Josh scoffs and shakes his head. It definitely was a little rude of him to do all that.

You notice that Matt had not gotten too far away, when he turns around you signal him to come back over.

“Hi Matt, I know you noticed but my date is running low so I’d appreciate it if you did your job and got him some more.” You shoot him a condescending smile, your tone laced with venom.

Matt’s eyes almost pop out of his head. “On it miss.” He turns back to the kitchen before anything else could be said. He’d do anything for a god damn tip.

You turn back to Josh to see him smiling ear to ear.

“That was the sexiest fucking thing you’ve ever done y/n. Such a good girl obeying and serving me.”

“Anything for you Joshy.” You bat your eyelashes at him.

“But you were still flirty with him before, so that’s a strike for later mama.” He teasingly raises his eyebrows at you, making you wonder what exactly he has in store.

As you wait a little longer for your food, due to the fact that it was busy tonight at the restaurant, you talk about how awful this week coming up would be during practice. Coleman was always so stressed the closer it got to the show. And although you still had a month-ish before the actual show, it was getting closer to hell week which was when you would run through the show full out all day and night. Coleman’s big on total perfection and mastery, to ensure the show goes exactly to plan.

When the food and Josh’s drink finally came out you wasted no time to dig in, in a classy way of course. It was very rare for you to indulge in quality food since all you ever ate was dining hall food and never went home for homemade meals. When you saw they served scallops on the menu, you knew right away that was what you were getting. You love seafood so much, it reminds you of your childhood, when your Aunt Jen would take you out to your favorite seafood restaurant for your birthday every year. You missed her deeply, ever since you broke contact with your mom, you drifted with her as well.

You jab your fork into one of tender scallops, popping the entire thing in your mouth. You savor the rich, nutty flavor knowing that tomorrow morning you’ll be right back to the regularly scheduled meals.

“Wanna hear a funny story?” Josh asks, shoving a large forkful of noodles into his mouth.

“Hit me with it,” you reply, still chewing on your scallop.

“To preface, I was still in high school when this happened, so you can’t hold it against me,” He smirks, pointing at you with a raised brow.

You giggle at his dramatics,”Okay…”.

“Promise you won’t?” He presses, holding out his pinky finger to you.

You interlock your pinky with his, “Promise.”

“Good. Jake, Sam, and I had the house to ourselves one weekend because our parents went on an anniversary trip. So… you know, we threw a big party. Jake and I were Sophomores, not very experienced with alcohol for one. Two, we didn’t have that many friends so the friends we did have invited a ton of people we didn’t even know. So, our house was practically filled with complete strangers.” Josh took a big gulp of his drink, followed by another forkful of beef.

“Rebels,” you mutter, a chuckle bubbling out.

“That's for sure. We crashed on the chaise chairs that surrounded our pool that night. Woke up to the house a total mess, someone had even broken one of the lamps in our living room. And, boy, it was not a cheap one either. But that's besides the point, I woke up and immediately needed to shit, you know… as one does. I was still kinda drunk, I definitely wasn't sober, so I was a little slower than usual.”

“Oh no…” A wide smile spreads across your face, as you tilt your glass up to your mouth, you take a hefty swig.

“I shit my pants. 16 year old boy, shit… in his pants,” A boisterous laugh leaves his lips, recalling the moment.

You swallow your drink, the same time a cackle escapes from your throat. You begin aggressively coughing on your beverage, you watch through your teary eyes, as Matthew comes running up to you. But you couldn’t quite read the expression on his face, your tears blurring your vision.

“Y/n, are you okay?” You can hear Josh ask.

You try to clear your throat to answer, when you feel strong arms wrap around your torso. Matt comes up behind attempting to perform the heimlich maneuver on you. You come to your senses with one final cough, your vision returning back to normal.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Josh’s eyebrows are knitted, a lilt to his voice.

“I was trying to help her!” Matt backs away with his hands up defensively. “I’m sorry,” he turns to apologize to you and walks back towards the kitchen.

“It’s okay!” You yell after him, facing Josh again, anger written all over his pretty face. He can’t seriously be mad that the waiter touched me to give the heimlich? “Josh, is everything okay?” You widen your eyes at him.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one that started choking!” He says in a surprisingly defensive tone.

“Why are you getting snappy at me? I didn’t try to choke?!” You bite back.

“Mm, yeah, sure. You also didn’t tell him to get off of you now did you, hm?” He fires at you, his lips pull into a thin, straight line.

“Are you actually serious?” You start, wanting to say more but held back to prevent a possible argument/

“Yeah I’m serious. You probably loved having his hands all over you didn’t you?”

You stare at him, not knowing what the fuck to say to that. This has to be a joke.

“That’s what I fucking thought, thats another strike mama.” He warns you.

So this is what it’s all about. Just nitpicking so he can be more dominant. You wanted to be mad, but you couldn't, you were kind of aroused.

You might be sick. Sick for thinking angry Josh was hot. Sick for wanting to make him even more irritated, to get more strikes, even though you have no idea what it entails. Sick for yearning to grab his hand, leave the restaurant, and fuck in the backseat of his car.

You let out a quiet whimper at the authority in his words, but not without him noticing.

“What was that mama?” He raises one of his thick, well-groomed eyebrows at you.

“Hm?” You think acting stupid might make him forget or possibly make him think he made it up in his own brain.

“Oh baby, I’m not stupid. You like it when I talk down to you, like a little brat.” Another mouthful of beef is forced into his mouth.

“Who says?” You challenge, wanting to see how far you can push him before he falls off the edge.

“Don’t act like you didn’t just outwardly moan at me talking to you,” What a cocky bastard.

“I didn’t. I think you’re making things up Josh,” You swirl your drink around in your cup, giving him the stupidest look ever.

He narrows his eyes at you.“Don’t think so mama, and plus it's not good to lie. That’ll be another strike.” He drops his fork down onto his plate.

Your eyes are bulging out of your head, mouth gaping. “Don’t look at me like that darling, or else I won't be able to wait until we get back to my apartment and I’ll put that mouth to use right now. A gaping mouth is good for many things, not just you pretending to be surprised while hiding the fact that your extremely turned on. I bet those panties of yours are soaked right”

“Who says we have to wait? I want you right now Josh.” You instinctively rub your thighs together desperate for any kind of friction. You've been struggling with your impatience for him all evening, ever since he brought up his little idea.

“Now, where’s the fun in that? The build up is one of the best parts,” he gives you a sweet smile flashing his gorgeously white teeth at you.

You roll your eyes at him, “ I suppose.” Your foot stretches out, brushing up and down his ankle with your high heel.

“Keep being a fucking brat and see what happens, but its obvious that being punished is what you want. Such a dirty whore.” He takes a sip from his drink reacting like he just told you the weather for the day. It seems only you had a reaction to what he said and thankfully the music was loud enough or else you would be getting a couple more stares.

Your face must have been concerned because immediately Josh’s demeanor softens. “Baby are you not liking this, I told you all you have to do is say the word.”

“No no no. I’m loving this, maybe a little too much. I’m just so taken aback, I’ve never seen this side of you and I’m really loving it.”

He smirks, probably feeling good about himself after you just exposed yourself, probably a little too much.

After Josh pays the bill and you convince Josh to give Matt more than a few dollars tip because of his jealousy, you prepare to leave and head back to his apartment.

“Okay I know you want to get into the action immediately but I want to take you somewhere else, if you don’t mind.” He smiles, reaching out to hold your hands between his.

“I don’t mind at all.” You scooch out of your chair, grab your purse, and follow Josh out of the restaurant. After a short 5 minute drive you show up to an ice cream parlor that you had never been to before.

“How have I never known about this place?”

“You must be living under a rock y/n. I loved this place as a kid, our dad would take us all the time.” You felt a little overdressed for an ice cream parlor, but being here with Josh made the outside world irrelevant. After looking over the many flavors you opt on a mint chocolate chip scoop in a cup and Josh chooses his regular, a double scoop of cherry vanilla in a waffle bowl.

He brings you over to a small table in the corner, letting you have the booth side. After indulging in your ice cream for a few minutes and realizing it was the best ice cream you had ever had, Josh breaks the silence.

“So do you want to go over our test results?”

Your eyes almost fall out of your head. “Here? Josh, we're in public!”

“Anddddd…” He says, waiting for your response. “It’s not like there is anyone around.”

Besides the family on the other side of the room and the old couple ordering, the place was empty.

You giggle before pulling your phone out of your purse. You find your results and wait for him to begin.

“Okay so, what did the innocent y/n get on her rice purity score?” Making sure he emphasizes the innocent.

“No way man, you first.” You say pulling your phone closer to your chest.

“Fine. I got a 46.” He says dryly, waiting for your response.

“Oh my god, you're such a slut Josh.” Not being able to contain your laughter.

“So I got lower than you?”

You wince a little, realizing you’ll now have to expose yourself. “If we're talking golf then sure.” He can’t help but let his jaw drop a little. “How about a 23.”

His mouth turns into a huge open mouth smile. “I can’t believe that, show me.” You flip around your phone sharing the evidence.

“Are you going to call me a slut now or something?” Half being serious, half joking.

“Y/n, I don’t think you're a slut. Seriously. I said those things before because I was jealous of what I couldn’t have. That number means nothing to me, unless you chose one of the last two options, then it matters.” You can’t help but laugh, one at the joke, and two at the fact that he sees you for more than your sexual history.

“That means a lot Josh, thank you. And it means even more knowing how jealous you were.” You giggle, taking a spoon of ice cream into your mouth.

“Why not just get the cherry flavored ice cream? The vanilla probably just makes it more bland.”

His head cocks to the side giving you a look that makes you feel like you're missing something. He begins to scoop up a good amount onto his spoon, making sure to get a big cherry in it. He brings the spoon to your mouth, normally you would be cringed out over something like this but it was different. You allowed him to feed you the icecream and to your surprise it was amazing.

You cover your mouth making sure that you lick the remnants off your lips. “That's so good Josh, I’ll have to get that next time.”

“So there will be a next time?” He says scoops up some ice cream for himself.

“I mean, I had fun tonight. Even without a label I like hanging out with you and going out.”

“Right, and one may even call those hangouts a date, don’t you think?” He says, cocking his eyebrow up at you.

“I guess one could call them that. No matter what they're called I love being around you Josh. At practice, your apartment, out somewhere. It doesn’t matter. And to me it doesn’t matter what we are either, does it matter to you?”

He sits there for a second thinking about the bomb you just dropped on him.

“If you would have asked me that a little bit ago I would have said it did matter. But whether or not we're more than friends, I enjoy your company and I think for now that’s all that matters.”

Wow, this was a whole new side of Josh. Such a sweet and tender side that you could really come to love. Love. That word had never been in the equation. You push your many thoughts aside in your head, enjoying the present moment with Josh.

As you continue your simple banter you finish your ice cream filling so full from all the food from tonight. The way his face looked under the light could put you in a trance, you barely could pay attention to anything he was saying.

“… it was so crazy. Like who pulls up to a wedding in a tracker themed party bus?”

You snap back into realty to hear the last bit of his story. “That is so crazy.”

He smiles at you, the moment was so pure. “Anyways, wanna go back and let me fuck the shit out of you.”

Now that was the Josh you were used to. “Been waiting all night for you to ask.”

—

When arriving at his apartment, you imagined it would be like the movies. When they are stumbling into each other, hungrily trying to peel off each other's clothing, wanting nothing but one another. But despite Josh’s words fucking wasn’t the first thing to happen.

You both walk in hand and hand and he lets you use the bathroom to change into something more comfortable. Normally you would wear a giant t-shirt and shorts but wanted to dress a little nicer. Which sounds silly considering you would be going to bed. You wore a plum silk tank and flowy pants that fit perfectly on your body.

After returning from the bathroom Josh was sprawled out on the couch waiting for you. He had a tight t-shirt on, his muscles underneath pulling at the fabric. His bottom half, dressed in red flannel pajama pants. Your mouth waters at the sight, your hand quickly moving towards your mouth to wipe it. He pats the spot on the couch next to him, “Come take a seat mama, lets watch our show.”

“Community? But I thought we were gonna-”

“Patience darling, all in good time. Don’t you wanna relax with me?”

Without a second thought you come over to take a seat next to him but are grabbed and forced to sit in between his legs, letting your back lay against his chest. The episodes went by while light chatter filled the air. His fingers made it to your head at some point and never left as he played with your hair, lightly twirling and braiding it in some sorts. As you were going into the third episode of the night, you remembered the BDSM test that never got revealed from earlier.

“Hey Joshy?”

“Yeah.” He says drying, trying to pay attention to the episode.

“We still never went over the BDSM test.”

He sat up now giving you his full attention. “You're right, let me go grab my phone and some snacks and I’ll be right back. I have a feeling this is going to be entertaining.” He smiles moving around you to get up. You giggle and reach for your phone. When unlocking it, it opens right to your messages and Jake's name is very clearly near the top. Before he got back, you quickly deleted the messages and turned on do not disturb. You felt guilty having to hide it, but you didn’t want this to ruin the night.

Josh walks back into the living room with a bag of premade popcorn and his phone in the other hand. He reclaims his seat, offering you the bag. “ What results are you expecting from me?” He pops a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

You turn your body so you are now facing him between his legs. “Hm… I don't know. From everything I’ve learned about you here lately, I’d say maybe age play or brat.” You chuckle at him, grabbing your own handful of the salty snack.

Fear and confusion washes over his face. “Excuse me? What the fuck?” You can’t help but laugh at his reaction.

“I’m joking, Josh calm down. What is your top 5 on the list?”

He scans over his phone before beginning to read. “Okay so number one, I have dominant, of course. Number two brat tamer, three rigger, four degrader, and five masochists.” Damn. You didn’t know what to expect but it wasn’t that. “Was that what you were expecting?”

“Um… no, not really. I thought you were going to be pretty vanilla” You can feel your cheeks flush, embarrassment beginning to take over your body.

“Wow, I’m kinda offended. Your turn now.” He says with a cheesy smile.

“One is switch, number two degradee-”

“Switch?” Josh proclaims as he interrupts you, his eyebrows raising in shock.

You jokingly roll your eyes and continue sharing your results. “Number two degradee, number 3 brat, number four rope bunny, and five is primal prey.”

You were waiting for a witty response but he was speechless. You don’t know what he was expecting. “Josh, are you good?”

“Yeah it's just interesting to hear. But it's good to know you were turned on all the times I would call you a slut. ” He shoots a wink at you.

“You’re lucky that I find you attractive, or else I would have slapped you across the face.” You give him a little smile.

“Oh! So, you dooo find me attractive?” He says running a hand through his curly hair.

“You really needed me to tell you to know that?” You play at him.

“I thought we were ‘friends’ though? Being attracted to me makes me think we're not just friends y/n.” He places a hand on your thigh, squeezing it gently. A sharp shiver travels up your spine at his hand placement.

“I mean we're friends with benefits if that's how you wanna put it.” You give a poor attempt at trying to appease him, knowing you both wanted much more than to be just “friends with benefits”.

“Yeah but I think deep down you know you want me to be more than that, y/n.” He begins to move his body, hovering above deathly close to your face. “What do you want from me y/n? Is it just the sex, because I can give that to you. I’ll fuck you just how I’m going to fuck you tonight. But I know deep down you want me. Maybe you're just too scared to admit it, but I need you. I need you so fucking bad y/n, in more ways than one.” Your hands meet his hips, fingers playing with the waistband of his pajama pants.

“Let me take you to bed mama, and by the end of the night I want an answer. I can’t be teased any longer knowing if I can have you or not.” He whispers seductively into your ear. You can feel the pool forming in your panties just from his voice alone.

You moan lightly into his ear, as he scoops you up off the couch. He carries you down the hallway bridal style, pushing his bedroom door open with his foot, stumbling inside. He walks over, throwing your body down onto the bed.

“Strip.” He commands at you as he walks over to the closest.

“You too.”

He whips his head around. “Are you back talking? I know you're not stupid, don’t play with me. That's another strike mama.” You notice that he’s not empty handed anymore. He grips the thick black leather belt he was wearing earlier, walking right back over to you. You can’t help but let your eyes widen at the sight.

“Don’t act scared now, we both saw those results. Do you remember the colors?” He asks softly, taking off his shirt in the process leaving him in only his pants.

“Yes Josh.” You rip your pajamas off quickly, leaving you sitting completely bare on his bed.

“Good girl baby. Have you ever done this before?” He asks, sitting beside you then lifting you to be bent over his lap.

“No.” You say timidly.

“I strongly disbelieve that, but we’ll just take your word on it.” You feel the cool leather beginning to brush over your bare ass. “What color are you right now?”

“Green, very much green.” You quickly spit out, eager for his touch.

“Good, now I want you to count with me since you were a very bad girl. Can you do that mama?”

You can count to 5. “Yes Josh.”

“Sir, you call me sir.” He says sternly.

“Yes sir.” You say pathetically.

Without any warning you feel a hard slap on your ass. “Fuck” You recoil at the feeling.

He leans down to whisper into your ear, “That didn’t sound like a one to me, how about we try that again.” Again, the belt goes flying through the air landing another harsh crack against your ass cheek. “…One.”

“Good girl. Only four more to go.” He taunts you, but you can’t say it doesn’t turn you on even more.

Crack!

“Two”, you squeak out, your eyes shut tight. Your hands travel to his thigh gripping firmly onto his thigh as he lands a third hit to your ass. “Fuck, three…”.

“Fuck three!” He mimics you in a high pitch moan. “You hear how pathetic you sound?”

No way.

“As much as you're acting like you hate this, I know you like it. Such a fucking whore. You’re so wet right now, I can feel you soaking through my pants.”

With another whip of the belt your hands can’t help but clutch onto his bicep. “Four.” Your voice, no doubt, sounds so small. The final strike is the worst. It stings the hardest out of them all and you could barely get your words out. “…five. Fuck Josh.” Your eyes begin to water as you feel a few drops roll down your cheeks.

“Good girl baby. So glad to know you're not incompetent and can count. Now get up.”

As you struggle to get up from his lap you couldn’t help but also feel the pool between your legs, coating the insides of your thighs. He pulls his pants and boxers off at the same time, revealing his hardened cock.

“You see that mirror over there baby.” He points to the mirror centered in front of his bed. You nod not being able to get any words out. “First, you are going to get yourself on that bed, and then I am going to leash you, and your going to watch me fuck you like the whore you are. Got it?”

It was almost embarrassing how fast you got onto the bed. You stayed there on your hands and knees facing the mirror, watching him slowly make his way around to the back of you. He begins to put the belt around your throat.

“I’m not going to tighten it all the way, I don't need you dying on me. Lift your hand up if you need me to stop okay?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good baby.” He begins to line himself up with your core slowly pushing himself into you. His grip on the belt tightens, pulling your head up.

“Oh God, you fill me up so well Josh,” You choke out. He yanks the belt back a little more and slowly starts to thrust in and out of you.

“That I do, mama. You’re so fucking tight holy shit.” He begins to press into you harder. “Look at yourself, so beautiful.”

You look up into the mirror, making eye contact with him, and can’t help but moan at the obscene sight before you, your head falling down towards the bed, but Josh wasn’t having any of that. He lets go of the belt and grabs a chunk of your hair and pulls you back up. “I said, you are going to watch me fuck you. What's so hard to understand, you dumb bitch.”

He lets go of your hair and grabs the belt again, pounding into you harder and harder. Your tears pick up even more, rolling down your cheeks. “What a poor baby, do you feel so good?” Josh reaches around to your face, wiping the tears off your cheek, smearing your mascara in the process.

You were so incredibly turned on you couldn’t help but tighten around his cock as you begin to feel an orgasm creeping up on you.

“FUCK Y/N.” He pulls the belt hard, pulling you up to his chest. “Don’t do that shit or else you’ll get another strike.”

It’s almost like he’s begging for it. Without a second thought you squeeze around him again.

“FUCK.” Disregarding the belt, he slams you face first into the bed, grabbing your hips with both hands to give him more leverage. You feel heat radiating off your ass as Josh fucks his pelvis into the same spots he abused earlier with the belt.

“You can’t take this pussy Josh,” You clench around his dick again and this time he’s had it.

“I’ve had it with your shit, y/n.” His grip tightens around your hips, yanking you back to meet his thrusts harder. You feel his tip brush against your cervix, bringing you even closer to the edge. You knew you wouldn’t last much longer. “Josh I’m gonna cum.”

“What a surprise. I don’t care, because we're not done til I say we are.” His thrust never soften or stagger. He continues to assault your pussy.

“Josh I’m cumming oh my god.” You feel a wash of pleasure go over your body, but the thrusts don't stop. “Oh Josh stop, it's too much.”

“I don’t care. You're gonna take it.” He begins to get sloppy, knowing that he’s close to climax. “What color are you, baby?”

“Green.. Fuck Josh.” You see him smirk in the mirror knowing this is exactly what he wanted to happen. The pain of the overstimulation begins to turn into pleasure once more.

“Oh baby, your pussy feels so good. I’m going to cum so hard inside you, get you pregnant so no one else can have you.” His head tilts back, mouth wide open.

Holy fuck. You would be lying if that didn’t take you back a little, but it just turned you on that much more. Before you can get a word out you feel a shot of warm cum fill your pussy.

“Oh fuck mama. You feel so good, too fucking good.”

When he finally comes down he flips you onto your stomach, releasing your neck from the belt, trailing it down your body. “You think you can give me one more baby.” You feel the cool belt drag over your wet folds, along with a few light slaps.

He was going to be the death of you.

Not being able to help yourself you begin to grind up against the belt. He takes your hands above your head and begins to tie your hands together and wrap the belt around his bed frame. You feel his cum leaking out, as he leans his face down in between your legs. “Are you gonna stay still for me mama, be a good girl?”

You nod, feeling like you were on an entirely other planet with all the different sensations going through your body at the moment. He reaches up and slaps your face and grabs your neck. “Answer me y/n.”

“Yes Josh, I mean yes sir.” His hand releases and he makes his way back down between your legs. “I’m going to suck my cum out of you baby.”

With that, his head disappears between your thighs, licking a stripe through your folds. His face reappears and he sticks his tongue out for you, presenting his cum to you. He leans up, planting a quick kiss on your lips, followed by a deeper one licking into your mouth. You hum in pleasure of his taste on your tongue.

“Taste good, baby?” He gives you the prettiest smile.

“Mmm, so good,” You moan arching your chest against his. He smirks, going back down to eye level with your cunt. He begins with quick circles on your clit with his tongue. “I love your tongue, sir. Always making me feel so good.”

He doesn’t respond as he speeds up his licks, making you squirm beneath him. He pins your hips down with his arm, “ Stop fucking moving, or do I need to tie your legs down as well?”

You liked the idea, but needed to cum again. You shook your head furiously and kept your legs still.

He keeps lapping up your juices, bringing you closer and closer.

“I'm so close.” This feeling was different, much more powerful, but certainly not foreign. You feel little spurts coming out, and Josh picks up on it immediately.

“Soak my face, mama. Drown me.” His tongue attacks on your clit faster until you let go.

Josh’s mouth opens wide, desperately trying to catch every drop of your juices. It was a sight you never wanted to forget. He swallows it down and looks up at you, his face completely covered in your cum.

“You’re so fucking hot babe.” He reached up to release your wrists from the restraints. As your arms come down and hit the bed, pins and needles wash over them after being suspended in the air for so long.

You laid there silently in his chest for a while until you broke the silence. “Josh, did you mean what you said about getting me pregnant?”

“No, I don’t think getting you pregnant is a smart idea for either of us. But having you to myself was true. I need you badly y/n, and I hope I’ll have an answer soon on whether you want me too.”

“How about we go out to the living room, watch community and cuddle for a little, my head isn’t the clearest after all of that.” You offer, Josh can’t help but let out a chuckle before getting up to collect your clothing off the floor. He helps you back into your pajamas and then puts on his own.

You look in the mirror to see your mascara smudged and hair all knotted and messy. You don’t bother fixing it much because it was only you two there tonight. You rub the mascara away a little, still leaving you with makeshift eyeliner on your waterline.

You follow Josh out of his room and drag your feet back over to the living room. When you make it there you are met with a familiar face sitting at the couch on his laptop.

“Finally you’re done, I was gonna go back to my room but didn’t wanna have to hear her moaning. So fucking loud, by the way, what were you doing to her Josh?” With that he closes his laptop and saunters back to his room, closing the door behind him. You couldn’t dare look him in his eyes as he walked by. You can’t imagine how either of them feel at the moment.

You were a little embarrassed to learn that Jake had been sitting here, listening to your sounds of pleasure. Yet, some part of you was completely turned on by the fact he was able to hear everything. Every little moan, whimper, and whine, all caused by his brother.

You take a deep breath and sit back down next to Josh, and cuddle into his side. You look up at him and smile. “Ignore him, y/n. He’s probably just going to use that imagery to jerk off because he doesn’t get any.” You awkwardly laugh. Yep, definitely not getting any. You internally cringe.

You immediately forget about it though as Josh pulls you impossibly closer. You wrap your arms around his torso and snuggle your head into his chest.

“Hey Mama, look here for me,” Josh says to you. You look up again, into his beautiful coffee irises. He wipes under your eyes with his thumbs, swiping away the remaining smeared mascara. “There you go, sweetheart.” He seals his act of affection with a sugary, sweet forehead kiss.

You blush under his touch, grabbing his hand interlacing your fingers with his. You bring his hand up to your lips, reciprocating the kiss across his knuckles. You hear a little giggle leave his lips. “Wanna watch Community now?”

“Yeah… yeah we can, right after this”, He takes your face in his hands, bringing his lips to yours. You make a move to deepen it by slipping your tongue into his mouth. It wasn’t like the makeouts you had before, this one was tender and passionate. Your hands reach for his face, slipping them up into his loose curls. His roaming across your back, not going any farther than your waist band.

He pulls away for a moment, “You can’t do this to me and not be mine y/n. I need you to figure this out for my sanity.” His eyes, large and pouty. “I don’t think I could ever get over you, whether we become a thing or not.”

You realize the game you were playing is not something you can carry out any longer. You were never tied down to one person, but Josh was different. The way he made you feel could never compare to the many other guys you’ve been with. Your fling with Jake though had to be put to an end or else you could never make this work out with Josh.

“I can’t make that decision right now. I want you too, badly. I just need time to sort some things out, and tie together loose ends with some people.” Making it as vague as possible to not lead him to think it could be Jake. “I want to take things seriously and not lead people to think I’m going to be open for anything.”

Josh stares at you, half happy, half still frustrated that he didn’t get his way. “I understand babe, this isn’t the way for me to do it either. I want to make it official official. Not just force you into it on my couch. I’ll give you some time, but I know it's coming.” He sends a bright smile to you, finishing it off with a deep kiss.

You break away again, “Josh, I’ve never felt this way before, I was so confused for the longest time.” You grab onto his face gently rubbing your thumbs across his soft cheeks. He nuzzles his face into your hands.

“Same, Mama,” your lips reconnect and let them do the talking. You push him down to lay flat on his back, he looks back up at you with innocent eyes.

You resituate yourself to sit on his lower abdomen, and begin to grind lightly against his soft dick.

He grabs a hold of your hips and stills you, “Can’t we have a sweet moment y/n.” He says in a sarcastic tone, smirking up at you. “Or is fucking always on the mind.”

You act like you have to think about that for a moment, “Mmmm… maybe?” you chuckle leaning back in for the kiss.

“As much as I’d love a round two, Jake is home now. Can’t we just enjoy this moment together.” He says as he pulls you in for another quick kiss. “Maybe, when he’s asleep though…” He adds, with a dorky wink. You playfully shove his shoulder and then relax your head back onto his chest.

He reaches for the remote, turning on Community. After a few episodes, you both doze off, only waking up when Jake slams his bedroom door to go out to the kitchen. Josh not waking even once. You awaken again by another slam of the door, what the fuck is he doing? You look over at Josh, to see him still peacefully sleeping like a baby. What time is it even?

You quickly turn your phone over to check the time, still in a half-asleep daze. 2:15am. Definitely not a time to be slamming doors.

You see a new notification under your messages, Jake. You swore you deleted him from your messages earlier. You click on his name anyway to see what he could possibly have to say.

2:14am Jake: I know he’s asleep. Come to the bathroom now.

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

@demonrat444 @gvfstuddedmajesty @jordie-gvf @jazzyfigz @slut4lando @gvfmarge @peaceloveunitygvf @jjwasneverhere @areuirish @mar-rein12 @woyayaofdreams @freyjalw @musicspeak @jennabobenasblog @do-it-jakey-baby @dannys-dream @terry-66

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 || 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐌𝐈̇𝐂𝐒

** banner by the amazing @pedrorascal thank you so much bby for taking the time to make this for me 🧡🧡🧡

series summary: Still struggling to come to terms with his father's recent passing, burdened by the weight of the business he left behind, Javi feels adrift. Meanwhile, years later, an unexpected twist of fate brings you back into Javi's life again—the daughter of his favorite housekeeper. Uncertain about your future and what to do with it, you find yourself at a crossroads, while Javi wrestles with the irresistible pull he feels towards you.

pairing:  javi gutierrez x ofc!mia pradera (written in second person, no body descriptions)

word count: 6.1k

chapter summary: Javi wasn't expecting your return after years, he also wasn't expecting to see you naked through his bedroom window.

warnings: javi secretly peeping into your room through the window, male masturbation, thoughts of oral, age gap, javi showing signs of depression, grief, brief mention of drug use

a/n: welcome to the new and improved first chapter of the series! I've been reworking this for a week now and decided to repost it. There's a lot that has been changed and added so I highly recommend reading this one before going forward. The second chapter will be coming soon (and I mean it this time lmaodfvd) I'll be making the other version of the first chapter private and I'm hoping you guys will enjoy this version as well 💜💜💜

Special thank you to @emilianamason who beta'd this for me and also helped me out with the Spanish bits, I'm truly grateful so thank you once again 💕

***dividers by @firefly-graphics 💕

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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The sky is a matte gray. It reminds Javi of the sea when there’s a storm raging underneath, the sand lifting from the bottom and giving the beautiful blue a more mud-like color. He sees crunchy leaves and smells cinnamon. It’s fall alright. He always finds this time of year a bit somber but in a romantic way. He’s holding a cup of espresso, the dark liquid still steaming. The pool has been drained for cleaning. 

He can hear clatter coming from inside the house, mattresses are being flipped, apple pies are being baked. He’s the only man that lives here, yet everyone who works here spoils him, even if they don’t need to. No one really says anything but Javi can see it, the way they walk on eggshells around him, the conversations that fade into hushed whispers that carry the same lilt of his name. 

Everyone treats him as a child. Not that he can blame them. Javi gave them little reason to behave otherwise. He did drugs, knew how to shoot a gun, and was the son of one of the most powerful men but still. . . he was a child in the sense that he knew little of the world. He wasn’t like Lucas who was more than eager to get his hands dirty. 

A gentle child, that was what his father called him when he was young. He always uttered the words gently. Yet, hidden within his gentle expression but in his eyes, Javi could see the disappointment. He wanted a partner. Someone who did more than looking over the olive oil and wine business, it didn’t matter if Javi was good at it, his father wanted more of him.

In the end, he doesn’t mind the pampering—he’s grieving, isn’t he? He deserves it. He had no one else to take care of him, and the staff had been with him for years. He feels closer to them than Lucas. When his cousin mentioned taking over, Javi didn’t care. Not in the slightest. They were close enough that Javi didn’t have to worry about being killed or thrown out. 

Besides, Javi enjoyed the finer things in life, which is why he didn’t mind overlooking the “front” of the job. He made sure that everything ran smoothly and Lucas seemed impressed by the growth of the business. Javi hated to admit it, but he did enjoy seeing that faint shimmer in his cousin’s eyes. The look that said; Oh, he’s not completely useless after all. 

Besides, Javi enjoys sampling the wine. He adores the sourness that hits his tongue with every swallow. 

“¿Discúlpeme señor?” 

He takes a sip of his coffee. 

“¿Si, señorita Pradera?” 

Javi turns to look at her, a little smile playing on his lips. Lucía is one of his favorite employees and one of the ones that can read him like an open book. She’s a natural mother, a caretaker. Whenever he’s down on himself, she never once hesitated to pick him back up. It didn’t matter if he was shaking from going overboard on LSD or if he was crying during Paddington 2, she was there. It was nice to be taken care of. Something he couldn’t receive from his own family— maybe once or twice from his father. Javi didn’t know who his mother was, there was a lot of speculation about that. 

Lucía just makes him happy. Talking to her feels like something light. He doesn’t need to overthink it, and if he says something wrong, he could always come and apologize. She never held a grudge. But despite how cheerful she seems, in her eyes, Javi can see the soft waves of sadness. Sometimes he saw the same waves in his own eyes, telling him that he was disappointing someone somewhere, that he’s done too many mistakes to turn back from. 

She seems to be genuinely happy this time, her cheeks slightly flushed, forehead and cheeks glistening with a sheer coat of sweat. 

“Do you remember, Mia?” she asks. “Mi hija.” 

That’s right, Lucía had a daughter. Javi remembers you running around before you left to live with your father in the States. She often mentioned your name and sometimes she left to visit her but Mia never came. He isn’t sure if it was the father who didn’t let her or if Mia herself didn’t want to come, but regardless, Lucía was hurt by being away from her daughter for so long. 

"I wanted to ask if my daughter could come para una visita. She's done with university y necesita un lugar to relax, figure things out." 

He takes another sip of his coffee, it’s finished now. A leaf slowly spins down from above, the sunlight gently filtering through its translucent veins. It lands gently in the empty pool. 

“¡Pero claro que si!” he says, and smiles. “When is she coming?” 

“Next week.” 

Javi was sitting on the terrace when you arrived. 

He has a small plate of olive oil with thyme placed in front of him. Tearing a slice of bread into two, he dips a piece into the aromatic blend and brings it to his mouth. Javi only bites the part drenched in olive oil, he savors the taste, the sharp taste of dried thyme hitting his tongue. Shortly after, he goes for a second dip. 

When he’s done chewing, you’re already at the top of the stairs. 

You have no luggage, only a large backpack that slightly pulls your body back. Javi recognizes your face, the soft features he’s grown accustomed to when you were trailing behind your mother, asking to watch a movie on the big screen. You look more mature now, the corners of your face sharper yet still carry that roundness. 

You’re staring at him as if he’s a long-lost sibling, your smile bright and wide. The expression is contagious, making him smile wide as well. Your gaze reminds him of a look he’s only seen in movies, the close-ups that sole purpose is to show the fondness in a person’s eyes. He’s not sure what he feels about that fond look in your eyes. Your gaze is incredibly soft and affectionate for a person who has been in the air for god knows how long—which is why he’s usually flying people in instead of the other way around. 

You can see right through him, he thinks, nerves crackling with an uncomfortable feeling. It makes him conscious about how broken he truly is, his mask hardening the longer you smile. 

“Javi!” you exclaim, arms opening wide. Not knowing what else to do Javi mimics you and wraps his arms around you. You giggle into his chest, your breath warm on his chest. “¡Te he extrañado!” 

He missed you too. 

Javi's ear catches the trace of an accent in your Spanish. 

You smell of cheap coffee, chocolate, and the airport—and also a little bit of sweat, which is normal after such a long flight. Javi squeezes you once and feels you melting against him, you really must be tired to become so plaint under his touch. Swiftly, he releases his grip, yet your palms find solace on his shoulders, causing him to awkwardly flex his knees in order to accommodate the lingering touch. He wasn’t aware of how close you were standing. Your breath mingling with his own as your eyes dance along his face, taking in every worn-out detail. 

You suddenly pull your hands back, a bashful chuckle slipping past your lips. 

“Sorry about that— I’m feeling a bit jet-lagged.” you rock back and forth on your heels, anxious energy overwhelming your nerves. “How have you been?”

Javi stands still, eyes slightly wide, not knowing how to answer such a question. Physically, he feels good. Mentally, also good but he isn’t sure. He’s fine during the day, his routine occupying his mind enough so that he doesn’t register the loss. His father wasn’t around that much anyway. But when night fell and he laid his head against his overly fluffed pillow. . . that’s when he remembered. His chest ached, his eyes stung. He didn’t know how to deal with it so he remained silent, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

Sometimes he even gets angry trying to muster up an answer. 

He can never get angry with you though, besides you had no idea of knowing. His tongue nervously swipes over his bottom lip and his teeth dig into the inside of his cheek. He’s about to answer, say he’s fine, but you beat him to it. 

“God, I’m being such an ass. Of course, you’re not okay,” you murmur more to yourself than him. He still hears you though and your words catch him by surprise. You softly hit yourself in the head, which makes worry roll down his spine. “I’m really sorry about your father, Javi. My mom told me. That must’ve been hard for you.” 

Has it been hard for him? 

Honestly, he’s not sure. His death, his funeral… it all passed by in such a blur. He remembers his father dying slowly, in an expensive hospital bed with flowers by his side. Javi doesn’t quite remember the rest. He doesn’t remember the funeral, the moment he was gently laid into the earth, never to be seen again. 

He does remember feeling Gabriella’s hand on his shoulder. He also remembers Lucas standing close to him, his eyes watching the casket go down. 

“I am okay,” he takes the hand that you’d hit yourself with, thumb slowly moving over the soft planes of your hand. He smiles when you let out a sigh of relief and turns his eyes to the empty chairs. “And thank you. I have been doing better. Why don’t you take a seat, you must be tired. I will call your mother for you.” 

He watches as you take a seat and after a brief phone call to Lucía, Javi sits down as well. He asks what you’ve been up to, about your life in America after you’d moved away from your mother. Briefly, Javi sees a hint of hesitation and regret pooling in your eyes. He doesn’t know much about why you left, he only remembers that you were young back then, just a kid basically. 

Javi manages to ease your thoughts by slowly sliding the basket full of bread and the small plate of olive oil toward your way, saying that you should eat. Only after the first bite you being to speak freely, telling him how hard university has been and that the competition was rough and had drained you out, making you feel like a shell of a person. 

“You’re not a shell,” he answers, brows drawn together. You smile between bites of oil-soaked breath, shooting him an appreciative smile. 

“You’re still the nicest man I know,” you say. Javi’s not sure how you could’ve drawn that connection, he doesn’t remember doing anything to gather such an observation but takes the compliment anyway. “I had a troublesome professor. He really did a number on me mentally, I like my field but I really want to do something else with my life.” 

“And what is that?” he dips the leftover bread into the last pools of olive oil. “What do you want to do?” 

"I yearn to weave tales," you express with a melodic lilt as if addressing an audience, then you laugh. Javi feels like he’s watching his favorite painting come to life, raw and vivid. “Sorry, that sounded snobby of me didn’t it?” your tongue pokes through your cheek. “I want to write a book, create screenplays, and even directing—I want to do it all. That's why I'm so happy mom called me here. It's such a beautiful place to think about big things like that, you know? And well. . . "

You trail off and worry your bottom lip between your teeth. “You’re here too, which is nice. You still like watching movies?” 

“Of course,” he answers, feeling the tip of his ears growing warm. “You know that I take my movie-watching very seriously.” 

You’re grinning now, “I do. I think you might be the one who introduced me to the media actually. We watched movies at home but here. . . ” you sigh, eyes taking in the scenery. “Here it felt magical. And I loved the endless movie facts you seemed to have stored up in that brain of yours.” 

“You flatter me,” despite himself, he’s smiling from ear to ear. “It’s nice that you want to direct.” 

“That’s only one of the things I want to do,” you say, stuffing your mouth with the last bit of bread. “But yeah. I know it’s a competitive field, some parts of it are downright evil, but it just calls to me. Imagine someone watching your story, isn’t that exciting?” 

Javi's mouth momentarily opens, then promptly shuts. Yes, it is exciting.

Suddenly your brows furrow, your gaze meeting his as you swallow, “Didn’t you want to write a script as well? I remember you being really into Nicolas Cage.” 

His lips part again but the words die on his tongue. He’s surprised that you remember so much about him. In all honesty, Javi does remember the movie nights he had with you before you left—But it definitely wasn’t anything inspirational. During the many boring, work-related dinners, he would find you crouched behind the wall listening, watching your mother, clearly bored out of your mind. He asked if you wanted to watch a movie one night, and you said yes. After that, it became a habit. You would come to him, tugging his sleeve and asking to go to the cinema room. He happily indulged, of course. 

Javi doesn’t remember the first movie he played for you, but he does remember the second one; Raising Arizona. 

Thankfully, your mother's animated voice swiftly dispels the silence that was dancing on the line of turning awkward.

“Mia!” Lucía's attempt to reach her daughter almost resulted in a tumble down the stairs. She catches herself midstep. “¡Estás aquí! How was your flight?” 

“¡Mamá!” 

Javi watches them hug, an uncomfortable yearning stirring in his gut. In a tearful embrace, Lucía holds you close, squeezing her daughter tight. 

Javi wanted to talk more about films, ask about your favorite actors, he wanted to hear your stories. He seems to be invisible to them now, not that he blames them. Just in case one of them catches his wistful look, he forces a smile. 

They climb up the stairs, mother and daughter. Javi catches fragments of Lucía's voice, softly describing the breathtaking view from your room. A feeling he can’t place tugs gently at his heart and whatever it was, he keeps it hidden beneath his quivering smile. 

Javi stares at the now empty basket and plate. He sees only crumbs. The chair you were sitting in is pushed back, misplaced, forgotten. He picks up the plate and basket, slides the chair back into place, and heads up the stairs, making his way to the kitchen. 

Javi is laying on the bed, the sheets cozy and warm. A book rests delicately between his broad palms but his mind is elsewhere, the words only mere shapes inked on paper. 

He’s thinking of you. How full of life you are, how you still have ambitions– Your life full of undiscovered paths, he envies it. He envies the hope, the excitement, the illusion of choice. He’s happy for you, of course, but he can’t help the wistful beating of his heart. He had responsibilities since the day he was born. Javi is aware that he’s a privileged man. He’s not going to pity himself in thinking that he isn’t. He got what he wanted, but he also heard an earful about how he was wasting his life on silly things. That he should focus. 

Focus on what? He always wanted to ask. He didn’t see why he couldn’t indulge in his hobbies and the business that was forced upon him. In the end, his father’s greatest fear came true, Javi has no interest in taking over. The family patriarch never said anything but it was clear to Javi that his father was disappointed. 

A soft, gentle light catches his attention. It pours through the expansive, elegant windows adorned with ornate square bars reminiscent of wrought iron. Closing his book, Javi assumes a sitting position, his socked feet firmly planted on the cool floor. His interest is piqued. Normally, no one stays in the building across from him. It was usually reserved for family visits. 

What happens next is an accident. 

Or perhaps it is a blessing disguised as an accident. He’s undecided.

Javi sees you, towel loosely wrapped around your figure, hair still dripping wet. His mouth goes dry, eyes wide as he stares, unable to tear away his darkened gaze. Compared to when he first saw you today, your walk is slow, languid. You stand at the side of the bed and clumsily free yourself of the tight clutch of the fluffy towel. Dipping your head, you cradle the back of it with the towel and fold it in front, only to throw your entire head back, leaving you bare for all to see. 

His cheeks become a shade darker, fingers uncontrollably twitching against his thigh. The muscle at the base of his stomach tightens, radiating warmth.

Did you know? Were you aware that he could see you? No, of course not. There’s no fathomable reason as to why you would want him to lay his eyes on you. Javi holds his breath. He should say something, should he not? 

Briefly, you disappear from his eye line only to reappear a short moment later with two bottles of —what he assumes— lotion in your hands. His cock hardens as you slather your body with lotion. He swears he can smell it. A delicate scent that carries notes of daffodil and vanilla. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. Warm honey drips down his spine, forcing goosebumps to appear over his skin. He hates that he’s still watching.

He knows what he'll see if he was brave enough to look down; the telltale bulge of arousal within the front of his sweatpants. He can feel it twitching angrily, tempting him to reach down and take it in his hand and give in to the pleasure that would undoubtedly come with it.

Why the fuck is he still watching? 

You start applying the lotion from your legs, going all the way up to your thighs. You massage it sensually into your skin, fingers spread wide as you lean down and pull yourself back up. Javi’s stomach churns, his own hand sneaking under the waistband of his sweats. He wraps his fingers around his thick cock, thinking how fortunate it was that he skipped wearing boxers before bed. 

His shirt sticks to his skin. His chest heaving as he begins to stroke himself, the pressure of his hand makews his eyes roll back. His thumb swipes at the slit, spreading the precum all over the length of his cock. A groan echoes from the back of his throat. His hand is moving with ease now, tenderly gliding up and down his hard cock. 

His teeth clenched tightly together, Javi’s eyes flicker back to the window. Your hands slide up your stomach and over your breasts, they bounce perfectly as gravity tugs them back down. You spread the lotion over your chest and neck. His hand moves faster. He slightly hunches forward, hips jerking as if he’s actually fucking himself into you. 

His mouth opens in a silent moan as his fingers grip the base of his shaft. The sensation builds until his spine is aching for release. His hips buck against his hand and his thighs clench as the pleasure courses through his veins.

Javi imagines the soft moans he'd hear coming from his mouth, your lips wrapping tightly around the tip of his cock. His body tenses at the fictitious swirl of your tongue, tantalizing flexing with each stroke that takes him closer to the edge. With each thrust of his hips your body would grind against his leg, he’d feel you quiver. He thinks of the slickness of your saliva sliding down his length as you suck him dry.  You’d squeeze his hips with both of your hands. . .  it feels like electricity shooting through him. He wants to feel you against him, feel the heat of your skin, and kiss you senseless.

He cums hard while you’re getting dressed, his jaw lax as he thrusts fervently into his fist. His sweatpants cling to him like a second skin. He can feel the sticky mess inside as it pools in the fabric, disgusted by the warmth of his own body as it wraps around him. There’s a short second where the urge to throw up consumes him, he thinks about running to the toilet, emptying everything out to trick himself to believe that it never happened. 

But it did. 

The lights of your room fade away, only the moon left to kiss away Javi’s concern. His legs tremble and ache as he gets up. Pleasure still licks at his body, making him want more. His soft cock is uncomfortable trapped under his sweatpants, throbbing and aching despite the events that just transpired. 

Javi grabs a new pair, this one thinner than the other and heads to the bathroom.

Javi jolts awake to the sound of a loud knock. Groggily, he rises from his bed, attempting to rub the sleep from his eyes with a loose fist. Another knock follows, causing a small, annoyed growl to escape his chest. He reluctantly opens the door, his eyes half-lidded, only to find a familiar face on the other side that leaves him momentarily dumbfounded. 

Memories of the previous night flash through his mind, and suddenly he becomes acutely aware of his morning arousal, discreetly straining against the front of his sweatpants.

“Mia?” he asks, voice thick with sleep. “What are you doing here?” 

He notices the set of clean towels in your hands, but his attention is captivated by the way your eyes sweep over his body, your lips forming a mischievous smile. Confusion tugs at his thoughts while a gentle, chilling breeze infiltrates his room, leaving his abdomen colder than usual.

Oh. 

OH. 

He doesn’t have his shirt on—shit. 

“Looking good Señor Gutierrez,” you tease, eyes going over his body one more time. “Mom told me I should help around, so I brought you your clean towels.” 

“Ah,” he says stupidly. “Gracias, querida. I hope she is not working you too hard.” 

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you shrug. “Besides, I’m staying here rent-free. I might as well do a bit of work.” 

He takes the towels, his hands feeling oddly disconnected, as if they belong to someone else. You flash him a final smile before pivoting on your heel. Javi watches with undeniable hunger as you confidently strutted away, his eyes admiring the way your hips sway as you saunter off. He feels the familiar stirring in his body, his cock demanding attention that he can’t give in the middle of the hallway. He continues to gaze until you vanish into one of the many corridors.

His throat feels unbelievably tight as he closes the door and heads to the bathroom. Javi feels a flock of birds pecking at his brain, reminding him of Prometheus. He doesn’t know what he should be feeling. The only thing he does know is that he shouldn’t be thinking of you in such a way. 

Javi stares at his reflection in the mirror. The whites of his eyes are stained red, the bags underneath prominent and dark. It looks as if he hasn’t slept in years. 

A deep sigh escapes his lips as he undresses. He won’t be seeing you like that again anyway, there’s no point in dwelling over something that only happened once.  

Javi had underestimated how frequently he would be seeing you around. Your gaze is constant. He knows you’re watching him without actually having to look; his skin tightens, the back of his head starting to tingle. You’re mostly doing chores and don’t stop to chat with him, which he’s grateful for. But still, from your gaze, he senses that unlike him, you do want to talk. 

The guilt is eating him from the inside out. Your naked form is engraved into the back of his lids, whenever he closes his eyes, he sees you. The sting of his eyes is constant, aching for moisture. He can’t fight against it and blinks, and as soon as he does, his cock grows hard.

Lucía would be furious with him if she knew—she’d be absolutely disgusted. 

He worries that you might’ve seen him last night. Maybe that’s why you wanted to stop and talk with him. Fortunately, the mansion is spacious enough to provide him with hiding spots, allowing him to retreat when needed.

With each passing hour of the day, his uncertainty and guilt fester within him like poison.

He hurries to his bedroom as soon as dinner is over. Normally, he would have a glass of wine, engage in conversation with the staff, and unwind. However, not today, not with you present. . . observing him. . . talking to him.

He just can’t. 

Javi ignores confused glances directed at him and excuses himself. The looks linger as he walks away, though there’s a probable chance that he might be imagining it. He’s convinced that you and your mother are both counting his every step.  He doesn’t turn to check.  

When he closes the door to his bedroom, back pressed snug against the wood, his breathing becomes strained, lungs rattling with every struggling gasp of air. His pupils blown, his gaze immediately flickers to your bedroom window. Much to his relief, and disappointment, the lights are off. 

Javi settles onto the bed, the watch on his bedside table ticking away, drawing closer to the time he had seen you naked yesterday. He finds himself waiting until the hands of the clock reach the exact same moment. The lights are still off. Another minute goes by. 

Then, finally, a beam of light that comes from a far pours through his windows, shadows stretching across the floor. He can breathe again. 

Standing in the middle of the room, you stretch, your arms seemingly reaching for the sun. Javi’s gaze follows your every move. He watches as you scroll on your phone for about five minutes on the bed. He watches as you disappear, leaving him to stare into an empty room. He watches as he swears he can hear the music that you’re blasting from your phone. 

He watches and waits until he can see you again. Just like the day before. Bare. Soft. 

His mouth waters, cock already throbbing with need. 

Javi’s not sure how long he waits. It could’ve been an hour or a minute, but whatever time had passed, you appear once again, the same towel wrapped around your body. 

His mouth dry, he swallows hard. Javi's breath catches in his throat as his eyes drift over your curves. Unbidden, his hand moves eagerly to his crotch, eyes fixated on you as he palms himself. His tongue peeks out, wetting his lips as you shift onto your stomach. Your towel slides up, revealing the perfect mounds of your ass, and he gulps, his fingertips trembling as he hastily unzips himself. A moan escapes him as he admires the lobes of your ass peeking from beneath the towel.

Precum already oozes from the tip, and Javi eagerly wraps his fingers around his hardening cock. His strokes are slick and smooth, his breaths coming faster.

Javi hears the rush of blood pounding in his ears as his breathing grows even more jagged with every passionate thrust of his hips. You lift your legs, spreading them apart and crossing them from side to side while watching a video from your phone, completely unaware. His hungry gaze is met with the entire expanse of your body exposed only to him as small water droplets still cling to your skin, cascading down your legs and wetting the area between them. The sinful image of your pretty pussy becoming wet and glistening spurs him on, he imagines how wet you’d be, only for him.

He pushes his hips harder against his fist, the need to feel connected to you driving him forward. His pounding heart is accompanied by an unquenchable craving to touch and explore every inch of your body. 

Javi’s grip tightens and tremors start to run through his body. His head drops back as his movements quicken, pushing him closer and closer to the edge. With a deep moan, his muscles coil tight as the pleasure cascades through him, a warm rush flooding every inch of him. He shudders joyfully and with a final thrust, he coats his fist in his own release.

His face is contorted in a blissful expression, his eyes closed in reverence. Drops of sweat slowly trickle down his toned body, drawing paths through the smattering of light brown hair that adorns his tanned skin. His lips are slightly parted as he drinks in the pleasure, a low moan coursing through his lips. 

With half-lidded eyes, Javi’s gaze drops down to his spent cock. He made a mess of himself and the floor underneath, the pearly droplets glistening in the soft light. 

He’s going to have to clean that.

The guilt comes rushing through. He’s disgusted by himself, the feeling tasting of bile that is thick on his tongue. It felt good at the given moment but now that his head is clearing, what he did just makes him feel sick. He’s quick to wipe the floor with one of his shirts, then tosses it into the laundry basket for cleaning.

Javi gives you one last glance before leaving the room, you’re still on your phone, completely oblivious to him. 

He decides to stay in one of the guestrooms that night, but it doesn’t stop with one. 

Javi stays there the next night, and the next— 

And the one after that. 

“Are you ignoring me?”

“What— No, why would you think that?” 

Javi was lying, of course. He’d been avoiding you like the plague, turning the other way whenever he saw you approaching him. It's been about a week since he changed rooms. He didn’t tell anyone about it, the house was big enough for him to occupy another room without anyone knowing. 

However, he hadn’t expected you to actively seek him out, which he now realized was stupid of him. He just wanted to do a bit of skeet shooting, a means to vent his frustrations. The morning was chilly and it made goosebumps rise across his skin. He enjoyed the feeling, which was why he skipped wearing a jacket. 

You, on the other hand, were covered from head to toe. 

“I don’t know,” you mutter, wrapping your arms around yourself. A faint cloud dances from your lips. “Maybe it’s just me being paranoid. You really don’t mind me being here, right?” 

Javi gently leans the gun against the sturdy stone rail. His heart clenches at your question, he never wanted you to feel guilty, or for you to feel unwanted. He slowly shakes his head, his gaze rising up to meet yours. 

“Por supuesto que no,” he responds, his voice quivering, the biting air seeming to grip his vocal cords as he struggles to express himself. Of course, he doesn’t mind. “You are free to stay here as long as you wish. I just…I have been—” 

He chokes up, mouth gaping, his gaze still fixed on yours. You're the first to look away, shifting your eyes elsewhere, and instinctively, you hug yourself tighter, trying to ward off the chill in the air. A nervous laugh escapes your lips.

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me, at least, not if you don’t want to. I’m always happy to listen. I just wanted to be sure if I was overstaying my welcome or not.” 

“It’s okay. As I said, you are free to stay.” 

You smile at him then, asking him whether or not he'll be joining you for breakfast, he says that he’ll come after taking a couple more shots. You eye the rifle, eyebrow raised in a peculiar way. You state that it’s too cold and head inside. Javi stares as you leave, he decides not to shoot anything, instead, he follows you to the dining room. 

Javi moves back into his room that night. 

You had excused yourself early claiming that you felt dirty and needed a shower. Javi couldn’t help it. He waits, like always does. A week of not seeing you made him grow hungry, his body was left in a constant state of wanting. He needed to see you, he needed to cum while witnessing your naked body. 

This time he has no shame in ridding himself of his pants, wrapping a hand around himself, he lazily strokes himself. He still remembers every curve and crevice of your body, it haunts him day and night, decorating his dreams and nightmares alike. Javi’s eyes travel along the windowsill of your room, the lights are still off, much to his surprise. 

He’s startled as the door slams open, a triumphant “I knew it!” ringing out. 

With panic, Javi attempts to pull up his pants but the stubborn fabric sticks to his legs instead, making him stumble forward and almost falls off the bed. Luckily, he manages to catch himself at the very last second, planting himself firmly on the mattress. He hears the door close, more silently compared to how it was opened, he finds himself staring at your shoes. He gulps. 

“Why are you here?” he asks, voice horrified. “How long have you known?” 

“Not that long,” you answer. He still refuses to meet your gaze. “I had my suspicions when you started to avoid me, then I noticed you switched rooms. One night I waited in my room to see if you were watching or not.” 

Tears sting the corner of his eyes, he’s pathetic. Then, like a soothing oceanic breeze, he feels your finger curling underneath his chin, forcing his downcast gaze up. His cheeks flush at the soft touch. He expects you to laugh at him, but he finds a gaze of sympathy instead. You pull down his bottom lip and every bit of oxygen leaves his lungs. 

“Lo siento, Mia,” he whispers. 

“Está bien, I don’t care. I. . . I have an idea, actually.” 

Wide-eyed, he looks at you with concern. Your thumb still lingers on his lip, he enjoys it there, he enjoys the comfort you provide despite his mind screaming at him how disgusting and pitiful he is. 

“And what might that be?” 

“We can. . . help each other out,” you answer,  flustered, your breathing short. “If you want to, that is. I had a stressful year. . . I wouldn’t mind having some fun.” 

His brows furrow, “I do not understand.” 

Another lie. He did. He just couldn’t believe it to be true. 

“I think you do, Señor Gutierrez,” you tease. His heart skips a beat at the playful lilt of your voice, his mind is racing. You squeeze his bottom lip gently and his breath hitches. 

“I’m not—” he licks his lips, the tip of it touching the pad of your thumb. “I am not that experienced.” 

This time his whole body burns. He had lovers in the past, of course, but not many. None of those relationships lasted long either, how could it with the family that he had? He wasn’t even sure what he liked or disliked, and after a while, he just stopped trying to form a meaningful connection with anyone. He closed up, not really knowing what else to do with the cards he was dealt with. 

Your answer takes him by surprise. 

“That’s okay. We can learn new things about each other, together.” 

His heart flutters at the softness of your voice, the kindness of your smile. He parts his lips to speak, to tell you how grateful he is, but before he can, you drop to your knees, a sly smile stretching across your face. 

“Do you want my help?” you ask, your fingers spread across his thighs. He sucks in a sharp breath as you give him a gentle, yet firm, squeeze. “Tell me what you want, Javi.” 

“I would— I would love to feel your lips on my cock, princesa.” 

“Princesa?” you repeat, amused. “I like the sound of that.” 

He finds heaven between your lips. 

[fkinkindagauche]

The Most Gourd-geous Pumpkin in the Patch

I did, in fact, start a fic based on this Wiggly Wednesday. The first chapter is up on AO3 - read it here, tags/content warnings over there. Brief description - No Upside Down Omegaverse AU, explicit, Steve and Eddie meet in their mid-to-late thirties over some pumpkins.

Here's a little excerpt.

“Hello?” a man’s voice said. Steve could hear loud music playing in the background. 

“Um, hi,” Steve said. He hadn’t prepared a spiel like he usually did when calling someone, and he froze. Amos meowed loudly.

“Are you a cat?” the man asked, laughter in his voice. “Is a cat calling me? This is wild.”

“N-no,” Steve stammered. “I mean, yes, there is a cat here, but there’s also a person. Me. Steve.”

“Ooooh,” the man said. “The plot thickens. A Steve and a cat. What’s the cat’s name?”

“Amos,” Steve replied automatically. How had this conversation gone off the rails so quickly? Amos lifted up his head at the sound of his name and meowed again.

“Anus? You named your cat anus?” the man asked, incredulous.

Steve rolled his eyes. He hadn’t anticipated how common this response would be when he chose Amos’s name, but a surprising number of people did mishear it as “anus”. “No, no. Amos. With an M as in major. Amos, like the Famous Amos cookies. Or the minor prophet in the Old Testament.”

“That makes a lot more sense,” the man said. “So, Steve and minor prophet slash cookie cat, to what do I owe the pleasure of your call?” 

“Um. I got a card. In my door today. From Munson’s Curiosities. About selling pumpkins.”

“You’re the pumpkin magician!” 

“Well, I don’t know about that. It’s my first time growing them.”

“Even more magical. Those have got to be the most perfect pumpkins I’ve ever seen.”

Steve felt himself blushing. Over praise of his pumpkins. What was going on? “Um, thanks?” he said. “Anyway, I wasn’t sure what you meant, by your message. Did you want to buy my pumpkins, or did you want to sell me some pumpkins?”

“Why would I need to sell you pumpkins when you’re a pumpkin magician?” the man asked. 

“The lack of punctuation on the note made the situation unclear,” Steve explained. 

“Well I feel like the context clues made it very clear,” the man interjected, though he just sounded amused, not annoyed.

“What do you want the pumpkins for?” Steve asked. 

“Need to make sure they’re going to a good home? I get it. I’m doing this Halloween-themed event in a few weeks, and I just thought they would be perfect for decorating.” 

“Hmm. Alright. You can have six,” Steve said. 

“Awesome!” the man replied, seeming genuinely enthused. “How much do you want for them?” 

“Oh, you don’t need to pay me,” Steve said awkwardly. “I just grew them for fun, and wasn’t expecting them to all survive. I don’t actually need eight pumpkins.”

“Let me at least buy you a drink or something, man.” 

Steve thought about it for a second. Did he really want to agree to getting a drink with this rather unconventional stranger? He had grown more introverted in recent years, and generally avoided potentially awkward social situations, preferring to stick with people he knew well. But he had actually been enjoying this odd conversation. “Alright, fine. I can bring the pumpkins with me, and we can meet somewhere for a drink.”

“Fantastic! You doing anything Friday night?” 

“No,” Steve was slightly embarrassed to admit. “I’m free.”

“Great. Meet me at Bobby’s at 8? I have a lot of hair, I’m hard to miss.”

Steve laughed. “Alright. Wait, what’s your name? I never asked.”

“Eddie,” the man said. “Eddie Munson.” Again, Steve felt a vague sense of recognition, like he’d heard the name before, but he couldn’t quite place where.

[tiredlilguy]

BSD|The Flags Poly HC's

come get your girl dinner, you know who you are cw: not proofread, suggestive//, a little fucked up (what do you expect though... they're mafia) notes: not adding chuuya because he was 16 at the same time they were around their 20's, reader suggested to be around their age. im just trying to cope with the recent chapter ;-;

I feel like Pianoman, Lippman, and Albatross would probably be the most provocative and louder lovers, while Iceman and Doc are kind of like “they’ll come around to me when they want to” attitude

Pianoman LOVES having you on his lap, he’s always using his “leader privilege” to be able to hold you the longest

Pianoman is handsy, but Alb is clingy… like Pianoman would be the one to try and sneak a hand to your ass, but Alb just likes hugs and holding you

Speaking of Alb, he definitely likes to steal you away all the time

Can and will just take you out of a cafe date with Lippman so then he can drive you to some random empty parking lot in the middle of nowhere just to make out with you

You have them all of a leash, and they will be there at your beck and call

Bet if you’re in trouble with something (they know very well you’re capable), doesn’t matter if it’s personal or not, they’re there

Iceman is a simp, I can definitely see him trying to be chill about your attention being on everyone else, but he’s a little jealous… he won’t say anything though

One time, Lippmann was watching Pianoman’s hand that was on your thigh as you were sitting on his lap. Pianoman eventually noticed and looked up at Lippman with a smirk and said: “ You wanna join?”

You ended up in between them that night (god, I desperately want that to be me)

You hear all the hospital drama from doc:

“ You remember […]?”

“ Yeah?”

“ Well they lost their other leg. When I tell you that I’m probably going to run out of prosthetics to put on this guy… Though, I may consider trying to Frankenstein them with a new leg. What do you think?”

Doc gifts you flowers, but he always gets the ones that are small (he thinks that they are like him, so that’s why he gets them for you), OR he’d gift you jars of severed limbs/eyes/etc

If he does surgery on you, he’s going to find some way to give you an extra organ and just not tell you about it. I guess enjoy your new third kidney babes (this is a crack hc, but I did see it from a meme)

Albatross seems like the typa guy to gift you a taxidermied animal, idk why… he gives me those vibes, like how a crow will gift you a dead mouse as thanks for saving it (Albatross is the name of a bird after all)

NO ACTUALLY, ALB DEFINITELY GIFTS ILLEGAL FISH/WHALE BONES

He’s definitely a genius at getting stuff on the black market (I mean, he can operate and fix every/any vehicle), probably had the highest bid on like an extinct whale tooth and smuggled it in to gift to you somehow

Doc and alb are fucked in the head, they just wanna show you that they love you

Anyways

Iceman seems like the type to gift you either old records, things that remind you of him, or things the reminds him of you

Lippman gifts really expensive things like designer bags or clothing

Pianoman doesn’t seem like much of a gift person, but he’d probably get you something more sentimental: like a simple (but expensive) necklace, or very romantic letters

Lippmann LOVES to spoil you: literally will take you to everything, always has you at any of his interviews (though you’re probably in disguise), or at movie/tv show shoots

Iceman definitely likes to have you to himself, he doesn’t mind the poly relationship, but if you’re with him, he doesn’t like to share

That said, if he does have you for a night, bet it’s going to be a good night (in both ways)

If you are getting shared it’s most likely pianoman + Lippmann or alb + doc

Though of course the six of you are always together, I mean hey, u got the cream of the crop of the Port Mafia all to yourself 

If you get signed a solo mission, at least one of them is either going with you or watching you on the sidelines

One time it ended up being where all of them showed up and they comedically fell out from behind a corner (the sillies)

I can imagine a scenario where you all end up going on a vacation to somewhere where there’s a beach

It was Lippmann’s idea

The end goal was to see you in swimwear- like that was the original idea… they’re horndogs

Pianoman puts his coat on you if you’re feeling cold, likes to see you put the sleeves on and see the coat sort of pool over you

Trust, if someone hurts you, that person is getting their ass demolished, beaten tf up, burned, sunk into the ground, dead as hell

They’d probably make a mess of the person who hurt you, so much so that the person is beyond recognition

Probably the one time that they let Albatross go loose (he’s probably beating the shit out of the dead body)

They do love you, they’re just a little fucked in the head

The skrunklies

[changenameno]

My Own (Chapter 5)

Summary:
Geralt finds himself once more on the path, gloomily looking at what lies ahead.
And you? You had no one, no home and certainly no coin. Well that’d be something you had in common. No coin. You two are surely off to a great start…

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem. Nymph Reader


Warnings: 18+, death, cursing, angst and finally some fluff, hurt & comfort, MDNI (there will be smut in the future)

Word count: 1.2K

A/N: Hahah more teasing, sorry, not sorry…It’s not proofread, any mistakes are my own. Please be kind, comments/reblogs are much appreciated…Thank you and enjoy ❤️✨

 

!The Witcher characters and world are not mine!


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(In case you’ve missed CHAPTER 4)

 

CHAPTER 5

You couldn’t read Geralt’s expression in the moment, it seemed to only show stone-faced indifference. Then at last he opened his mouth, “No.”
Pausing briefly, before adding,” Of course not.”

Relieve washing over you at his answer. Safe at last.

Weirdly he was a bit disappointed that you’d believe him capable of doing something like that. He knew of course that this was unfair to you, as he’d be just as suspicious, if your positions were reversed. Still he couldn’t shake the feeling. You were somehow able to push all his buttons and make me feel drawn to you at the same time, which confused him all the more. He couldn’t explain it, if he wanted to.

Shaking his head, he went over to Roach, to do what he originally got up for.

Now that you felt somewhat safe and were no longer hungry, the lingering exhaustion and fatigue caught up to you, making you yawn. Just then Geralt returned with two bedrolls in his arms.

Silently spreading them out, close to the fire. It wasn’t particularly chilly but during night-time a glowing fire could certainly help, feeling more comfortable. An added bonus, the smoke would keep the mosquitoes at bay.

He knelt down, about to rest his aching body, when your amused voice cut through the silence, “Why do you have two bedrolls?”

Geralt rolled onto his side, facing you, looking more sullen than before. You giggled softly, “It’s the bard’s, isn’t it?” If it weren’t for the most delightful of laughs he’d ever heard, he’d have stayed stoic, but instead he nodded, even a little amused himself that you could look through him so easily.

You didn’t want to antagonize him any further, especially because he’d been nothing but nice to you. Though one last quip left your lips anyway, “Knew you were soft hearted…”

He felt rather pleased with your statement, warmth spreading through him. Content and tired he closed his eyes, about to welcome a better nights-sleep.

There was quiet shuffling as you lay down, on the other bedroll.

“Good night, Geralt of Rivia,” you murmured.

“Good night.”

 

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This time he woke because he heard your unsteady and shallow breathing, he kept his eyes shut, listening to your racing heartbeat.

Trying not to wake the witcher, you’d held back the sob that wanted to break free from deep within your chest. A nightmare had woken you a few minutes ago.

As you sat up, breathing heavily, you’d realized it hadn’t been a dream. At least, not really. Your subconscious had replayed recent events, mixing them with the past. Probably because you’d told Geralt about it.

It had all felt too real. An all-consuming sadness spread through you, as the first tears rolled down your cheeks.

He’d opened his amber eyes, even though he didn’t see your face, he could tell you were crying. A salty, bitter scent permeating the air. He sat up, very familiar with nightmares himself, his heart went out to you. To prevent startling you, he cleared his throat.

Making you stiffen and furiously wipe away the tears that didn’t seem to stop flowing down your face. Sniffling, “Fuck, sorry…I didn’t mean to wake you. Go…go back to sleep.”

How on earth was he supposed to go back to sleep, hearing you cry, sounding so distressed and miserable?

When you heard him getting up, you hugged your knees closer to your chest, hiding your face. Your breath hitched when a big, warm hand brushed over your back. Gently stroking up and down.

Geralt didn’t know what overcame him, but he couldn’t just sit back and do nothing, so here he was, attempting to sooth you. After a few tense moments, in which he thought you’d push him away, you finally started to relax into his touch.

Surprising him, when you suddenly turned and slung your arms around him, pushing your wet face into the crook of his neck.

You shocked yourself a little bit, when you turned and hugged him, but you felt so very safe and comfortable in his presents. And he smelled incredibly good, calming you instantly.

Unsure he slowly put his arms around you as well. Small hiccups could be heard, muffled cries leaving your quivering lips.

The embrace lasted quite long, until his slow, soothing heartbeat had reduced the speed of yours.

You lifted your head, wet eyelashes clinging together, as you found his gaze. Now it was his pulse that sped up, as you leaned in closer to his face.

You leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on his lips. Eyes closed, feeling his stubble scratching lightly over your chin when he started moving against your soft lips. The kiss was slow and deep, not rushed or needy. Both of you just wanting to feel the other.

Unhurriedly you pulled back, his ambers already fixed onto your face. His next words came out in a rasp, “We-we should get some sleep.” Because you couldn’t detect unease or regret on his face, you nodded, sliding off his lap and back onto your bedroll. He’d studied you all the while, before he went to get up.

A sudden fear reared its ugly head, what if you’d have another bad dream, so your hand shot out, gripping his forearm. Geralt halted, once he felt your fingers on his arm. Dark brow lifting in question.

“Please. Could you stay?” When you saw him hesitating, you softly sighed. “I just- don’t want to be alone right now. And you-you feel…safe,” mumbling the last word so quietly only a witcher’s keen ears could pick it up.

You couldn’t bear looking at him anymore, too embarrassed as he’d surely deny your wish.

He knew he was playing with fire, but he knelt down once more anyway, too strong was his desire to hold you close, to protect you. “Lie down.” Quickly moving, before he could change his mind, you lay down on your side, facing the glowing embers.

As he lay down, broad chest touching your back, Geralt heard the acceleration of your pulse. Which he mistook for nervousness, so he scooted back.

Though he didn’t come far, as your hand had reached back pulling at shirt, until he got the hint and drew closer again. He breathed in, no distress corrupting your sweet and flowerlike fragrance.

His eyes twinkling happily when you pulled his arm over your side, letting his hand rest against your stomach. Smiling even more, when you clarified, “Just…so you’re comfortable as well.”

A delightful shudder running down your spine when his answering, “Mmh,” sounded.

“Good Night.”

“Night.”

 

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