#lying down not in your laps but adjacent to you all

[parameddic]

hello i am having a miserable day, hit like to show affection maybe? thank u, love u guys, i know i have lots of responses to the open and it's affection all the way down i just. am small and tired today

[ovlxo]

a duff fic where they get caught but dont realise or sum😭

Caught Out - Duff McKagan x Reader x Slash

Sorry I went a little off-piste, I got carried away but I hope this is okay!

Warnings: Minors DNI, 18+, Threesome, Smut

You’d been staying with your brother, Axl, for a whole week at the Hell House. Quickly getting used to living with five guys; the mess, partying, drinking and drugs, the one thing held off limits to you had been the guys. Axl had imposed a ban on any of them so much as flirting with you and it drove you crazy, but he had to leave the house sometime whether it was to get more cigarettes or to go and record some vocals. It was these times you did your upmost to get the attention of one man you’d had your eye on…

Duff McKagan. 

You heard the back door close, indicating Axl was leaving at least for the next half an hour. You quickly stripped out of your sweats and vest and donned your tiny black bikini, grabbing your suncream and shades you headed out to the pool where Duff lay sunbathing, beer in hand. 

“Hey Duff.” You smiled casually, swiping your eyes up his body before meeting his eyes, he almost blushed as he tried to hide his own admiration of your bikini-clad figure. 

“Hey Y/N. W-would you like a beer?” He shakes his head, snapping himself out of his daze and pointing toward the ice bucket. 

“Please, it’s so hot out here.” Smiling back, you stretched out on the adjacent sun lounger. You lay on your tummy, closing your eyes, heart starting to race at thought of Duff just looking at you. 

“FUCK!.” Shock burst through your thigh as the ice-cold beer bottle met your inner thigh, Duff stood over your laughing and sneaking looks at your figure as you turned around losing your shades and cursing him. 

“Sorry, it was just too tempting.” He giggled, picking up your glasses, and handing them to you. Your fingers brushed against his as you took them back.

“Thank you, asshole!” Sticking your tongue out at him, you saw your opportunity. “Hey make yourself useful, don’t let me burn.” You smiled up sweetly, handing him the sun screen and rubbing the cold patch leftover from him. 

He took the bottle from you and you turned around, holding back your hair. Suddenly his fingers were on your skin, you felt like you could melt right there and then, as the cream was rubbed gently into your shoulders, turning into more of a massage, you felt his breath on your neck and let out an involuntary moan as his hands swiped further down your back. 

“Useful enough for you, sweetheart?” He whispered close to your ear, before gently kissing your neck.

“Mmm… definitely.” You sighed leaning back into him, he let go out of the bottle as your lips met and his hands went straight to your waist. Lying back on the lounger, you pulled him with you, tongues intertwined, hearts racing. 

His hands ran up and down your body, massaging your breasts, nipping at your neck before he pulled your legs around his waist to squeeze your ass. 

“You wanna take this inside? I don’t want us gettin’ into trouble.” He laughed lowly, pushing his speedo-clad, throbbing length into you.

“Good idea.” You giggled, biting your lip as he whisked you into his arms, continuing the deep kiss all the way to his bedroom. 

You quickly stripped each other out of your swimwear, as Duff slammed you down onto the bed, trailing kisses down your stomach, his mouth finally met your clit, devouring you, you felt yourself throbbing in sync with his tongue, your juices coated his lips as his tongue delved into your velvety hole.

‘Holy Shit, Duff!” You moaned, pushing your fingers into his hair. 

He growled in response as he delved deeper, lapping you up, sucking and teasing your clit before pushing a single, skilled finger right up to your sweet spot. 

You instantly arched your back in response, moaning his name and biting hard on your bottom lip.

“F-fuck- fuck me.” You breathed in gasps as Duff never relented. 

“Yeah, is that what you want, baby?” He stood at the foot of the bed, jerking his rock-hard member, and biting his lip as your eyes met, sliding his eyes over your body once more, before climbing onto the bed, you felt him slide right up against you.

“Please, Duff!” You moaned, squeezing his arms and sliding your hands down his body.

With one thrust he was deep inside you, instant pleasure rocked your body to the core, your eyes rolled back as he drilled right into your sweet spot. 

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight. So wet, just for me.” He whispered, biting at your neck and quickening the pace earning him moans and shivers from you as the knot in your belly started to build. 

“Faster, please… harder!” Your nails dug into his back as his hips bucked upwards to hit you deeper, his pace becoming rougher, your lips found each other as the headboard smacked against the wall.

“Oh shit…” a low voice entered the room as the door creaked. 

You both dived under the covers, wincing at the loss of the contact as Duff withdrew. Your heart racing as you recognised his voice. 

“Slash, dude… Get out!” Duff shouted, throwing an empty bottle to his feet and wiping the sweat from his brow. 

He laughed smugly, looking at you both, the smell of sex lingering in the air. “No way are you guys gonna get away with this. What do I get for not ratting you out?” He smiled at you both feigning innocence.

“I’ll get you a bottle of Jack, will you just get out?” Duff pulled the covers up further to hide you from view. 

“No, I think I should let Axl know, it’s only right.” Slash made to walk out of the room, and suddenly you pushed the covers back down. 

“Slash… maybe we could come to an arrangement.” You looked at Duff whose eyes widened at the sight of your breasts.

Slash stopped in his tracks, jaw dropping at your actions as he walked towards you. You gestured for him to join the two of you.

“Make sure you lock the door sweetie, I don’t think I could handle any more of you.” You winked at him. Quickly locking the door, his hands dropped to unzip his pants.

“You’re cool with this?” Duff whispered, stroking your thigh as Slash undressed. 

“You guys share girls all the time, now it’s my turn.” You kissed Duff’s lips, before sliding down his body, taking his cock now slick with your combined juices, between your lips, he threw his head back instantly as your hot mouth enveloped him.

Suddenly you felt Slash’s hands on your hips pulling you into an arch, you pushed your ass up to present yourself to him. He slid slowly inside your now dripping pussy. 

“Fuck-Y/N” you feel so good.” Slash moaned, bruising your hips with his calloused fingertips.

You moaned with your mouth full of Duff, the vibrations sending ripples to his balls until Duff was moaning your name and gripping your hair, making you take him deeper into your throat. 

You felt so full as the two men got into a rhythm, as Duff’s pre-cum ran down your throat, Slash hit a place deep inside you that made your eyes cross. His cock twitching as his thrusts quickened.

“Slash, harder- p-please.” You came up for air, jerking Duff’s cock before he pulled your hair back down to swallow him. 

Slash complied, pounding into you with no mercy and pushing you further down onto Duff’s cock. 

You moaned around Duff’s now twitching cock.

“Holy shit, I’m gonna cum. Are you gonna swallow, baby?” Keeping his eyes closed, Duff’s grip on your hair tightened, balls tightening against your chin.

“Cum for me, Duffy.” You whispered seductively as Slash continued to ruin you from behind. 

His seed instantly spilled on your tongue, filling your mouth with a sweet n salty silk. “That’s… my… girl…” His last few thrusts slowing as he emptied himself into your throat.

You rested your head against Duff’s thigh as Slash continued his assault, his short nails digging into your back as his cock twitched inside you.

Duff wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing gently as he whispered in your ear.

“You dirty little whore, taking both of us like this. So fuckin’ hot.” The words burned in your belly, waves of pleasure already washing over you as your head started to spin from his asphyxiation. 

“Fuck me Y/N, I’m gonna c- uhh.” What started as a growl turned into a moan as Slash erupted inside of you, the release not slowing him down. Painting your walls with his thick, creamy load. Drawing pinpricks of blood as he dug his hands into your back at the release. You tightened around him as the pain mixed with the pleasure of him hitting the right spot for so long and the fireworks erupted in your belly. 

“Duff… Slash… OH MY GO-“ you bit down onto Duff’s collar bone as your orgasm ripped through you like a storm. Convulsing with pleasure, pain and breathlessness, Duff released your neck as your eyes rolled back, your nails digging into Duff’s abs. 

Slash withdrew gently, his cock soaked in both of your sweet juices and collapsed onto the bed, breathing heavily as Duff stroked your hair with his eyes closed, still in ecstasy from his own release. All three of you were slicked with each other’s sweat as you floated back to Earth, enjoying the aftershocks.

Suddenly the front door opened and you heard Axl coming home. The guys both looked at you with wide eyes. 

“So, I think this should stay between us.” You whispered, smiling innocently.

[g0ry0re0]

"One Love, One House", Josh Futturman (Future Man, 2017, TV Show) - Imagine

Description: AU where Josh never beats Biotic Wars. Instead, he lives with you (his partner) in a cozy little apartment in L.A. / Josh Futturman x GN!Reader

General Notes: Established Relationship, Gender Neutral Reader, Pure Fluff/Comfort, Second Person POV, Lots Of Physical Touch (some a bit sensual/intimate?), Not A Lot Of Dialogue, Reader Has Some Internal Dialogue (“italics”)

Author's Note: Posting my first official imagine on tumblr, yippee! Also, my titles will almost always be inspired by songs ("Sweater Weather" by The Neighborhood, song link at the bottom of the post). Enjoy this short blurb!

Word Count: 1,031 Words

California needs the rain, that's what everyone always says, and you agree. You love the rain...

Just not right now. You did not have the best day at work and leaving was all you could think about. On top of that, driving in Los Angeles was already terrible enough. But when it rained? God, you wanted to be home already.

Mental and physical state being in rough condition, you finally hop in your car at the end of the day and start the twenty-minute drive back to your apartment (though, in reality, it was an hour's drive with this weather and L.A. traffic). Your safe haven.

Walking into your apartment felt like the weight of the entire world finally lifted off your shoulders. Your back cracks as you roll your shoulders to slip off your jacket, the warmth of the room enveloping you as you leave your shoes by the door and walk into the adjacent room, the living room (a.k.a. The Game Room, as dubbed by you and Josh the moment you moved in).

You could see Josh's messy hair popping up over the couch, facing away from you with his headset on. He must've gotten out of work early. Not totally unusual, but still welcome nonetheless. You're not sure if he knows you're home as he seems very entranced by his game. Of course, he was playing Bio Wars again, he couldn't get enough of that game. Sure he played others, as well as some with you, but he was addicted to that game in particular.

You walk around the couch, him still not taking his eyes off the screen until you plop down across from him and put your feet up on his lap, immediately relaxing your sore bones by lying along the couch. He jumps a little but finally faces you, just for a brief moment, and flashes you a smile before turning back to his game.

"Hey, hun. How was work?" He asks distractedly, but still smiling, clearly happy that you're home now.

"Not great," you sigh and rest your forearm over your eyes. "Everything hurts. Happy to finally be home, though." You mumble, already feeling your eyes flutter shut from exhaustion.

Josh hums in response, seemingly hyper-focused on his game, but he was listening. He always listened to you.

You both sit together, basking in the contentedness of the moment. The warmth of the apartment was amplified by the warmth you felt from your feet resting on Josh's lap. The aches in your body were slowly melting away the longer you lay on the couch, your breathing starting to slow down. It was quiet, but the sound of rain could be heard faintly from the somewhat open (broken) window in your kitchen, gently watering the half-dead tiny plants sitting on the window sill. You could also vaguely hear Josh's game coming from his headset, the ambiance slowly bringing you a sense of peace.

You remove your arm from its resting spot on your face and cross both over your stomach, wrapping yourself up almost cocoon-like. Your eyes are still closed, and your breathing slows even further, despite your efforts to fight off the sleep you so desperately need. You can feel Josh set down his controller on the side of the couch and you can hear indistinct voices coming from his headset. Must be some kind of cutscene.

Suddenly, you can feel Josh's rough hands squeezing your feet. Your closed eyelids flutter a bit and you sigh out of appreciation. Josh seemed to appear distracted more often than not, but he always paid attention to what you communicated to him, both verbally and subtly. This man adored you, he practically worshiped the ground you walked on. He would do whatever he could to see you smile, and right now, the signals bouncing off your body were telling him that you needed a little more attention than what he was currently providing.

He promptly paused his game and took off his headset, placing it on the coffee table before looking over at you. You weren't asleep yet, but you were dangerously close. He gently smiled at how serene you looked, probably staring for a bit too long before he snapped out of it. He tapped your left knee, prompting you to open your eyes and maintain eye contact with him for longer than two seconds since you got home. He was still smiling gently at you as he brought his legs up on the couch and started crawling between yours. He slowly made his way to you, softly caressing your calves, your thighs, and your hips with his hands along the way before laying his head on your stomach and beginning to settle down.

He rests his hands on the sides of your waist now, tenderly squeezing while making the rest of his body comfortable between your legs and on the couch. Your arms untuck themselves from around your torso as he does this. You rest one of your hands on his head, scratching delicately, pulling a deep, contented sigh from him. He mumbles something unintelligible as he relaxes against you, pushing a quiet, single laugh from you.

"What'd you say, love?" You ask quietly, continuing to gingerly scrape your nails along his scalp.

"Nothin', just happy you're home." He slurred sleepily before pressing a delicate kiss to your clothed stomach.

He then resumed his position with the side of his head resting against the exact middle of your tummy, his hands still lovingly gripping your sides. You hum happily and close your eyes again, your and Josh's movements both slowing to a halt as you fall into a shared slumber. The warmth you felt earlier has only increased, Josh quite literally working as a weighted blanket, both your body heat keeping one another fulfilled. Any aches you felt before were gone, intertwined bodies relaxing against each other appreciatively. Breaths and heartbeats slowed and in sync, the downpour heard outside and the ever so quiet Bio Wars soundtrack playing from Josh's headset, lulling you and Josh into a tranquil sleep.

Masterlist Link

Divider: saradika and saradika-graphics on tumblr

Gif: harryshumjjr

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

COLLISION

Astarion x Y/N - Chapter 6 - 3.4K WC - NSFW 18+

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5 NSFW 18+

Chapter 6 NSFW 18+ (you are here!)

Chapter 7 NSFW 18+

Warnings: Cazador getting his shit absolutely wrecked, inner turmoil, penetrative sex & oral sex NSFW 18+ (no descriptions of genitals, gender neutral), fluff, drug usage (elixir), violence/murder

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

You laid in the lush grass atop a hill near camp. Using the owl bear as a pillow, Scratch under one arm, and Grub under the other. Your eyes hazily watched the sunset, the comfort of the animals making you feel warm and happy inside. 

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people you know…” you say aloud.

“How did you know I was there?” Astarion scoffed.

“Maybe you’re not as stealthy as you think.” You smiled, opening your eyes fully to see him. 

Astarion sat next to you, gently going for your hand. The owlbear lowly growled. Astarion snatched his hand back, looking at the owlbear as if it betrayed him. You giggled before slowly sitting up and stretching. You gave each animal their well deserved pets before chucking Scratch’s ball down by the stream where they all ran off to. 

“That oversized snack growled at me.” Astarion said, still in shock. 

“Maybe it’s because you call them ‘an oversized snack.’” You said as you shifted your position so you were lying down but your head was in Astarion’s lap.

“Something’s troubling you my love?” Astarion’s eyebrows were drawn together in concern, his big doe eyes present. He smoothed over the creases of your face, pushing your worries away.

You huffed. Tomorrow is the day you take down Cazador and you worry Astarion will elect to ascend himself. Over the past few weeks running around Rivington and Baldur’s Gate, every time he spoke of Cazador, he spoke of the ritual. He spoke of how he wanted to ascend. You picked at your nails, maybe now is the right time to tell him about you, so he can make a better choice. 

“I think it’s time I tell you the truth.” You said eyes flicking to him before sitting adjacent to him. He immediately went to hold your hands, growing more concerned by your stoic face and distant eyes. 

“Darling whatever it is… it won’t change us.” He spoke softly.

“I’m not sure how to explain it, and you'll probably think I’m insane by the end of it….” You paused, sucking in a breath before letting out a sigh. “I'm not from Toril… I’m from Earth which is pretty similar to Toril. My world is full of technology, it’s run by machines…” Astarion’s eyes watched you intently. 

“In my world… there is a game… and it’s where all of you live… you’re a game character where I’m from. It’s why I know so much about all of you… it’s why I’m so nervous about tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow I’ll finally be free.” Astarion said with a tinge of confusion in his voice.

“Free, yes. But you have a choice to make and that will decide everything.” You gave him a minute to process everything.

“What happens tomorrow? You said you knew about us all so you must know how everything ends.” he asks curiously.

“You will choose to ascend or not….” 

“And once I do?” he said.

“You’ll be free and have power… but you’ll lose yourself. Everything about you that makes you… you… it’ll be gone. You won’t love me, you’ll want to control me. You’ll kill so many people…” you looked anywhere but at him. 

“The spawn? There’s only seven and they aren’t exactly innocent.” he scoffed.

“Not seven… 7000. Children, innocents, fools, the random unlucky… That is what troubles me, Astarion. I love you and I want you to be happy and live a life you can be proud of… and I understand after spending 200 years in the shadows power sounds delicious… but… but you become something… other.” your voice wavered a bit at the end and Astarion didn’t miss it. “But I will leave the decision with you, it is not one I can make for you… just be prepared to live with the outcome of your choice.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Astarion said, sitting in silence with you for what felt like days, “So you’re from another world?” He smiled at you a bit. “Glad to know my charm works across the worlds.” 

You chuckled a bit, the worry still eating at the back of your mind, this wasn’t a game. You can’t simply pick the right dialogue and make him not ascend. This will be his choice, he has to make it alone. And you just have to hope to god he chooses the right thing. You’ll love him regardless. You have to, he has your heart. 

“I have questions…” he started.

“I figured you would… Anything you want to know, I will answer.”

“What is the year where you’re from?” He looked like a child, ready to burst with inquiries. 

“2023,” you smiled at him, “I was born in ____.” 

Astarion’s eyes looked at you with wonder, “Are there more things like your phone in the future?”

“Oh yes, much grander too. Our technology knows no bounds. It is always changing, advancing.” you told him.

“Sounds powerful, helpful even.” he said tracing the lines on your palm.

“It has brought humanity great advances… and great pain.” you said solemnly. 

“What do you do in your realm?” he changed the subject knowing the slight pain in your voice, not wanting to make it worse. 

You laughed, “I’m an… alchemist.” this wasn’t entirely untrue, you worked in the chemistry lab at your university, working to make a substitute for white blood cells which would aid the world immensely. You had only been doing it for a few months before you got sucked into the game.  

“Is that why you chose to be a cleric?” he asked.

“Yes, though the alchemy I practiced was to aid humanity. The alchemy I practice here is… different.” you said, not knowing if those were the right words. 

“Vampires in your world?” he asked.

You giggled. “Maybe once, but for the most part they are fantasy. So is everything else you have here. Dragons, fairies, druids, potions, wizards, devils… all of it. None of it exists in my world, they’re fairy tales.”

“Sounds mundane,” he retorted. “Are people in your world happy?”

“Is anyone truly happy?” you asked, your eyes looked dull. “I… I’m staying here, Astarion. I don’t want to go back. I am happy here, with you. And… that, that’s all I need. It’s all I want. Us, everything else is background noise.” you said kissing the back of his hand, eyes finally looking up to him.

“I… don’t know what to say.” he said.

“I dropped a lot of information on you. I’m from a completely different planet, possibly a different plane of existence… you take all the time you need.” you told him shifting to get up. 

He held your hand and got up himself before slipping something on your finger. The shadowblade ring, his hand adorning the other. “I do know that I want you with me, always. I may not understand your world, perhaps I never will. And you chose quite the damaged artifact to love,” You shook your head at him holding his hand tightly, caressing his face gently. “Whatever comes, we shall face it together. I care for you deeply, I love you, I see you.” 

You knew you were crying like a big sap, but you couldn’t help it. You let out a relieved chuckle, pulling him into a kiss, just as the sun faded away behind the horizon. “I see you too. Together?” you asked him, holding out your pinky. He stared at it not really knowing what it meant. You hooked your finger with his, “Promise, this means promise.” you explained.

He squeezed your pinkie in his, “Promise.” 

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

The battle against Cazador was long and brutal. You used everything you had in you, your spirit guardians fighting to give you some sort of reprieve. Cazador’s helpers fought hard and by the end of the fight, everyone was exhausted. 

Astarion ripped Cazador from his coffin, screaming at him. You hung back with everyone, wanting to let Astarion take the lead on this. Astarion held Cazador’s staff, the iridescent red lights swirling about. Astarion had a decision to make. His eyes held fury towards Cazador, he wanted to make him pay. 

“Astarion” your voice rang out, it sounded distant and echoed in his mind. He was lost in a haze of hatred. He could feel the power emanating from the staff. The world was at his fingertips and all he had to do was take it. He came out of his trance when he felt a trembling hand cover his on the staff. Your eyes were puffy, tears brimming but you wouldn’t let them fall. Your voice quivered as your lip trembled.

“Astarion…” you said again with a whimper.

“Darling… the heavens and the earth are ours to take… I want to give you everything… give us everything.”

“I have everything I need…” you said softly, voice still wavering. “I will stand with you between the heavens and the earth but… but you have to stand with me. Please…” you begged him, the tears starting to slip at the very thought of him ascending. You smoothed your thumb over his ring, the one matching yours. The one tying you together.  “I cannot face the world alone, darling please...” you looked into his glowing red eyes. Perhaps he was too far gone.

Astarion shoved you back before planting the staff in front of him, red magic swirled about the room as if it was leaking from every crevice. Astarion twisted the staff. You heard… the gates in the hall open? You whipped your head back to look at Astarion. He was looking down at Cazador, staff discarded on the floor. 

He didn’t ascend. 

You watched him in what felt like slow motion, he stalked towards Cazador, pure resentment on his face. He stabbed and slashed his old master repeatedly. Until he was nearly cut in half. The others looked at Astarion with horror and understanding. He fell to the ground sobbing; finally, you rushed to him. Arms securing themselves around his waist, head resting on his shoulder. He slumped into you, shaking violently. You whispered words of affirmation to him, hoping to calm him. The others left the hall, getting to the spawn to explain the directions to the Underdark. Astarion eventually turned catatonic, it felt as though he wasn’t breathing. You gently pulled away to peer at his face. His eyes were closed, he looked… at peace. You barely touched your fingers to his jaw. His eyes stirred beneath his lids for a moment before opening to reveal his scarlet eyes. His eyes were soft, his face relaxed. He looked so vulnerable like this. 

“Are you ok?” he whispered.

“What? Of course I’m ok, are you ok?” you asked in disbelief. 

“I’m… numb? The weight of everything, it’ll take time to settle in.” you nodded in agreement. “Can we go home?” Astarion asked, searching your eyes.

“Let's go home.” you kissed his forehead. You both stood, pain settled in different parts of your body, reminding you of the battle. 

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

You met everyone else out front, everyone looking empathetically to Astarion. You entered the portal and were instantly transported to your little grassy hill. You led Astarion to his tent, both of you sitting on the bedroll. The silence between you was comfortable.

“Thank you.” Astarion said randomly.

“For what?” you asked genuinely. 

“For saving me from… myself. I felt a fraction of that power and it was glorious, but… I also felt no love when I looked at you. I wanted to dominate you, control you - nothing more. It felt wrong. I couldn’t do that to you.” he admitted, feeling disgusted with himself.

“I’m proud of you, ya know. You gave 7000 people a chance at life again.” you said, smiling at him.

“Ever so hopeful.” he chuckled at you. His eyes held the smallest bit of fire in them, but fire for what?

Astarion grabbed your hips and draped you across his lap. You gasped, taken back by the swift action. He softly captured your lips in his, moving slowly. His hands explored you with a feather light touch, getting progressively needier. His hand snuck up your leg, between your thighs.

“May I?” he asked quietly, barely pulling away from your lips.

You nodded, attempting to pull him back to you.

“Words, I need words.” he said leaving kisses on your jaw.

“Yes… please…” you breathed out, already lost in him. 

Astarion put his hand to work, pleasing you with intentional touches. Your head fell back and your eyes rolled. You ran your hands over his chest, trying to feel all of him. You tugged at his pants. His eyes met yours before he hooked his fingers into the soft fabric, pulling it down. Astarion forced your hips down roughly, holding your waist tight with one arm, the other holding your face. You and Astarion moved your small clothes to the side before having him fill you up in the most splendid way. 

“I love you” Astarion whimpered out, his breathing becoming more ragged by the minute.

You rode him slowly, savoring each movement. Astarion pulled your shirt open, going to town on your chest and all the spots he knew made you tick. Astarion picked up the pace, he was desperate and sloppy. You came first with a stifled moan, Astarion soon after with a grunt.

You rolled over to reach inside your supply pack. You handed Astarion the familiar bottle, Elixir of Folly. 

“Oh my, how I’ve corrupted you.” he said with a smirk, resting on his elbow as he opened the bottle. He took a few swigs of it before passing it back to you, the warm numbing feeling overtaking his lips. 

“Hush, we deserve to celebrate.” you smiled while drinking the rest of the potion.

Finally laying down together, you traced the features of his face, “Perfect.” is all you could say.

Astarion smiled at the word. He kissed you again before cuddling into the crook of your neck.

“What do you dream of?” you asked softly, playing with the curly wisps of hair at the nape of Astarion’s neck.

“You.” he mumbled into your neck, you could feel the smile on his face. 

You chuckled before gently tugging at the roots of his hair. He groaned before pulling his head back enough to look into your eyes. 

“Seriously, you’re free. And immortal. Gotta come up with some plans to fill that eternity.” your finger traced down his nose and ghosted over his lips.

Astarion looked off distantly. He was immortal. He hadn’t even considered the fact that he would live forever and you would not. He knew he wanted to turn you. As you said - a life without each other is no life at all. He could help you as a spawn and then you could make your plans to see the world. You just have to agree to a life in the shadows. Astarion didn’t know if he could ask that to you.

You noticed the silence but let it beat on. When Astarion’s hold tightened you spoke up, “What is it?” you said, looking at him with concern. 

“I… I have something incredibly selfish to ask of you…” he said, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Honey you can ask me anything, why do you sound so scared?” you said, face scrunched up. 

“Because it would change everything…” his eyes met yours.

“Oh gods please don’t tell me you want to have a baby…” you looked at him with shock and a bit of caution.

Astarion laughed, a full laugh that made the corners of his eyes crinkle, it calmed your heart. “No darling… vampires rarely conceive anyways.” he sucked in a breath and willed his unbeating heart to calm itself. “I want you to become immortal.” 

Silence. 

“I know it would change you and everything you’ve known. You’d have to live in the shadows. You’d have to drink blood. You’d become undead. It is possibly the most selfish thing I could ask of you and I understand if that is not the path you want for your life… but… the thought of you… not being with me for eternity… it eats away at me and I can’t… I won’t… I just…” 

You pulled him into a tender kiss. Silencing his babbling. You knew the moment you fell for the vampire that your fate would forever be mingled with his. If that meant giving up aging and your days in the sun - it was a small price to pay. 1000 lifetimes, one true love. What more could you ask for?

“Astarion,” you said, your eyes glazed over, the elixir working in your body. Unwinding every muscle, relaxing every joint, quelling every concern, a euphoric pit in your stomach. Astarion watched you with big eyes, bracing himself for the worst. “I will stand with you between the heavens and the earth as long as you stand with me. Forever?” you questioned holding your pinky out to him. He smoothly rolled on top of you so he was straddling your frame. He lent down, sliding his hands into yours and moving them above your head. His lips met yours, “Forever, until the world crumbles around us.” he kissed along your neck. The elixir was amplifying all of your sensations. His kisses felt like fire against you, contrasting against his icy fingers that trailed along the hem of your shirt. Not waiting for him to ask, you pulled your shirt off. 

Astarion traced his lips over any and all available skin, never getting enough of you. He slid his hand up your thigh as you raised it to wrap around his waist.

“Eager little pup?” he said between kisses. “Allow me to show you my gratitude? And what you have to look forward to for eternity." He wore the most sultry, lust filled, down right devilish smirk.

You nodded at him, watching as he descended to plant himself between your legs. His arms hooking around your thighs to keep them open and keep your hips pressed to the bed. The second his mouth was on you, your hands flew to his snowy curls. He knew exactly what made you feel good and yet, he explored you. Trying to find every little thing that made you see stars. Your back arched and Astarion’s grip on you tightened. He loved feeling you writhe beneath him at every little touch. The more you moved the closer you got and Astarion could feel it. He continued his ministrations, adding more pressure. You toppled over the edge, the elixir setting your body alight as you came. He kept on you until you tugged his head back, breathing heavily and trying to regain any semblance of composure. You pulled Astarion to you, capturing him in a deep kiss.

“Was it good?” he asked.

“Pffft… was it good? I think that was the hardest I’ve ever cum in my life.” you laughed, kissing him again before looking at his pants and back to his eyes. 

“No more darling, one is enough for me.” he said, caressing your face, you nodded in understanding. 

“When do you want to turn me?” you asked, basking in the afterglow. 

“When do you want me to?” he asked, this was about you in almost every way. Your comfort and consent was his priority. 

“Tomorrow?” you asked, playing with his hand that found itself tracing the curve of your waist. 

“Tomorrow it is.” he said.

“Will it hurt?” you asked, the smallest bit of apprehension in your voice.

“It isn’t pleasant… it will hurt but only for a few moments. Then you’ll just feel… numb for a bit.” Astarion said, trying to recall how he felt 200 years ago. 

You nodded, figuring it wasn’t all roses and daisies. Anything was to be endured if it meant you had him forever. 

“Sleep now darling, tomorrow we embrace eternity together.” he said, kissing your lips, cheek, and forehead. 

You snuggled further into his chest, legs mingling with his. The elixir pulling you into slumber quickly, “Love you.” was the last thing you whispered out before soft snores came from your lips. 

Astarion traced letters into your shoulder as you slept. A - E - T - E - R - N - A , he paused briefly before continuing his writing, A - M - A - N - T - E - S. He would love you forever, and he hoped to all the gods in a collective prayer, something he hadn't done in a millennium, that you would love him back - just as much - for just as long.

Hey everyone! I hope this chapter is to everyone’s liking, I think this story might be coming to an end :( don’t worry tho! I’ll post other new stuff. Please send requests, I love them! Thank you all for reading Ilysm 💖💖💖💖

[agbbswts]

"...I know you help me a lot, but there's a gap between improving my personality and anihilating it. By stating all these reasons, I think I've made my point."

"Am I, at least, allowed to disagree?"

"Of course you are although..."

"Don't bother, my question was only rethorical."

"Well I didn't mean to be disrespectful I just wanted to word an opinion." Replied Alicia clearly feeling this conversation wasn't turning into her advantage.

"Disrespect isn't only a meaning affair, I'm afraid, but it can't help betraying some intention..."

"That's pretty extrapolating and..."

"Let me finish will you! I know a certain young lady who's grown an attitude lately."

Yikes! That 'young lady' appeal could only lead to one thing...

"An attitude which made her foolish enough not to fear an immediate and lenghty over-my-lap lecture."

Alicia was left with stammering an answer or keeping quiet. But words didn't flow easily anymore so she wisely chose the latter.

"And talking about immediacy, I've got the perfect tool available. Only one foot away so to speak."

At that Alicia realized a slippering was already on its way. It wasn't the first time she was about to be smacked with one of 'Mrs Jensen's' (Esther) footwear. Whether with one of her hard leather soled slide sandal last summer or her wedged heel furry slippers before many a bedtime. One these occasions she truly knew and felt she'd been spanked!

Now her bottom was about to taste one of these elegant but nasty looking new red mules. Judging by the flapping sound their heels made while Mrs Jensen was walking on the carpeted floor, it only meant they were heavy and whippy. Otherwise Mrs Jensen would have never considered them as a potential correction implement. Anyway the nerve endings of Alicia's buttocks were already in 'run for it!' mode.

"B-but you walloped me with a hairbrush only two days ago..."

"I did indeed but in which oneiric dimension do you imagine you would be spared from an emergency hiding after you temper tantrum?

Don't fool yourself, girl, rhetoric again. Do not even try to retort...

"It manifestly demonstrates I might have been soft with you. A mistake I'm not eager to reproduce."

Apparently soft was a notion Alicia interpretated very differently. Well not synonymous to ten minutes bending over Mrs Jensen left knee, legs clamped between her thighs, nose a few inches above the floor and only prevented from touching it by her two wrist tightly clutched in her disciplinarian's left hand. And, of course in her right hand that dreaded hairbrush spanking metronomically over and over, painting in a crimson soreness both of her cheeks and their adjacent thighs tops, with a redoubled attention to her sit spots. Up to the point that the prospect sitting down was more and more becoming an utopia.

"What if I apolgize sincerly?"

"We both know you'll have plenty of time to do so once you're across my knee."

"Maybe not on the bare? I'm sure It'll hurt just as much..."

"Don't be silly Missy, I don't intend to punish your clothes."

A very low expectation with that one but worth a try! She let her jeans drop, quickly followed by her panties.

"Er... Corner time too I suppose?"

"Finally some sense here. half an hour on your knees, nose in contact with the edge of the wall and, obviously, my handiwork on display" "Or rather slipper-iwork to be more pertinent." added Mrs Jensen chuckling.

Some relief at last. Mrs Jensen still had some humour left in her. So no strap or cane on the horizon.

"I also have a slight variation in mind but I"ll tell you about it once I've warmed you bottom fairly and tho-rough-ly."

"As you please Ma'am."

"See you're getting even better. But aren't we forgeting something darling?"

"Oh! Sorry Ma'am. Would you be nice enough to address my behavioural problem by the mean of a good bare bottom spanking as to..."

"Hum!" interrupted Mrs Jensen while raising an eyebrow.

The implement, don't forget the implement, stupid! Alicia reminded to herself.

"Sorry again. By the mean of a good bare bottom spanking with your slipper as to teach the error of my ways and make a better person of me?"

"Why, it will be my pleasure sweetheart. Now come and lie over my lap. You can rest you elbows and legs on the sofa. I want the back of your thighs at reach as it seems I've been neglecting them during your last lesson. But likewise I'm trying to improve too. However I must insist: no excessive kicking neither punching on my furniture or I'll have you back in the same position of your previous 'hairbrushing', am I clear?"

"Very much so Miss, thank you for being so diligent and kind with me." replied Alicia trying to sound as sincere as possible.

"Now young lady, let's get this over with." Concluded Mrs Jensen with a wave of her slipper, summoning Alicia towards her.

Forty five minutes later, Alicia was enduring the last moments of her seemingly endless corner time. Her eyes were still puffy from the tsunami of tears they'd delivered. Fortunaltely the floor was soft, thus her knee joints weren't suffering too bad but their skin was rather itchy. The back of her thighs were worse, shining red from the burn, without speaking of their muscles who were on the verge of buckling, risking her to sit down on her heels with every instant. That would mean an inevitable cry of pain, therefore breaking the absolute quietness' rule of her corner's repentance. And likely a trip back over Esther's knee to feel the bathbrush her cross hands held straight behind her back. That was the variation Mrs Jensen had mentioned before, not only to prevent any rubbing attempt but also to sense the dissuasive weight of the tool.

Her bottom certainly didn't need that. It was even darker than the rear side of her legs with some distinctive white patches localized on her sit spots. The oval shaped marks of her two days old's hairbrush thrashing had reappeared and regained colour. The heat was everywhere and she wouldn't have been surprised if it were literally generating steam. The pulsations of pain emanating from it were still coming but increasingly spaced out over time.

Alicia guessed it was the point (Mrs Jensen would have called it virtue) of a slippering. Worsening a previous spanking. Now she was recalling the slipper session she'd earned at night a few months ago after a dose of the cane earlier in the afternoon, and how she'd ended up gagged with a scarf because her disciplinarian had felt annoyed by too loud howling. No need to wonder anymore why the slipper was Esther's favourite for second helpings.

"You may get up Alicia."

At last...

"Leave the bathbrush on the coffee table and come to me please"

Getting rid of this ominous instrument made her suddenly much happier though it was still not far. So Alicia had better stay cautious.

"You've been nice and obedient in the end. I'm proud of you. It was a long journey considering from where you started. But tell me young lady, what did we learn today?"

"Er... That I must reason before talking because hurting people's feeling is very mean. That I ought to trust the wisdom of more experienced persons than I am even if I think I know better... And that I don't want to taste the switches the hazel tree would provide if ever I dared overeact again the way I did."

"Almost perfect love and above all?"

"My apologies Ma'am. Misbehaving should always be dealt with the appropriate spanking without taking account of the proximity of a previous one."

"That's my girl. I gather we wouldn't want to put that little red devil back to work, would we?"

"Certainly not Ma'am unless you deem it necessary of course."

"No. That will do for today my dear. I'm delighted to have been able to help you again. Would you be willing to reward me for that?"

"Nothing could please me more Miss."

"That is really a sweet thing to say my dove. Let me change into that silk robe you love so much before you do. I'll bring some arnica balm for you on the way"

Then Esther left the room with her flawless catwalk's gait.

Not so long ago, Alicia was wondering if she wasn't completely dehydrated after all her crying. The dam that had just collapased 'downstairs' proved her wrong...

Dedicated to @spankingwishes and her other wonderful blogs @spankingwishes-longer & @spankinganthologies

[j-oneseungz]

1:47 AM | han jisung

genre: crush au, very 18+ suggestive, crush! han jisung x fem! reader

warning(s): very very suggestive! smut adjacent, reader is shy yet horny, allusion to cunninglingus and fingering, pet names (princess, baby)

word count: 622

…

It’s the way that he pushes you on his bed that throbs your core. It’s the way that his lips tenderly kissing your hair and slowly inching their way to your neck. It’s the way that you forbid yourself from getting a taste of Han Jisung yet his charms have some power over you like voodoo magic.

Denial is such a beautiful thing. Every girl on campus has this massive La La Land crush on him. By every girl that also includes you. But no one has to know. You’ve reiterated many times to people how Jisung is not your cup of tea and how you have a different type. Lying could only get you so far and unfortunately, the young man can see through your bullshit.

Now, he’s on top of you. You don’t even remember how you ended up in his place. Blurry in-between details you can’t recall were buried somewhere random in your brain. All you can recall now is the way his hands feel on your skin… and his lips. How you desperately want to feel them on yours.

“Is there something in your mind princess? Would you like to stop?” He stops his kisses to look at you with his pretty eyes. Fuck. You can feel yourself get wetter by the second. He’s such a gentleman. Discreetly, you squeeze your thighs together, hoping to get some friction. Though you try to be subtle with your neediness, Jisung is able to see through you. He looks down on your lap and smirks to himself. Augh goddamnit.

“I-I- Ji- I really want to kiss you,”

His eyes widen and his smirk was replaced with a smile you could melt into. “Why didn’t you say so in the first place baby?”

You stumble upon your words again. “I was-was shy… I don’t. I just didn’t know how to say it.” Now you were really embarrassed. You tilt your head down while looking away from his handsome face. Way to go! He probably thinks you’re a loser now.

Once again he kisses the strands of your hair before tilting up your chin to face him. “Y/N. You can tell me anything that you would like to do,” he whispers, “anything you don’t want to do. Anything princess. You can trust me.”

Such a sweet guy. His words brought butterflies to your stomach. You sit on his lap and you bring your lips close to his. “I really want to kiss you.” You say such words with such assertiveness that he didn’t even hesitate to fulfill your request.

He started out slow and gentle. His soft lips were heaven sent. Yet as heavenly as they were, those devious lips hunger for more. Passion simmers the yearning you have for both of each other, leading for tongues to fight for dominance. You moan as he bit your bottom lip. He tastes like intoxicating wine and you tasted like candy that he will always want to savor.

Both of you pulled away from each other to catch air. By now you know your panties are soaked to the brim. Jisung smiles at you and you marvel at his swollen lips with some red lipstick.

“Wow. You’re amazing,” he says as he kisses your knuckles.

You give him a chase kiss on the cheeks. “No you’re amazing Ji.”

Now it was his turn to be flustered. “Oh hush you.” Red was spreading throughout his cheeks.

You giggle at his reaction before asking, “You know what would be more amazing?”

“Hmm?”

“You eating out my pussy you made so wet.”

His smirk returns once again. “That does sound amazing,” he sighs as his deft fingers make their way under your skirt and between your thighs.

…

A/N: WOAH!!! This is the first time I’ve written anything relatively spicy and so I hope you enjoy! Please don’t hesitate to leave any comments on how I can improve my writing!

[thewayofthemandalorian]

dreams dashed and divided - chapter six

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Series Rating: M

Chapter Rating: M

Word count: 4,874

Notes: A lot happens in this chapter. Lots of information and revelations are discovered. This has one of my favourite scenes in the entire fic, so I’ve been particularly excited to share this one. It’s another heavy chapter in parts like the previous one was but we’re almost in the home stretch. I hope you enjoy!

This fic is cross-posted to AO3 under the same name and my taglist can be found linked in my bio as well as my masterlist which is linked below.

Comments/reblogs appreciated.

Chapter warnings: Canon-typical violence, stabbing, drugs/medicine (morphine-adjacent), fear, distress, death mention, loss of parents mention, grief/mourning, angst, near-death experiences, passing sexual references,  age gap: older man/younger woman (in flashbacks reader is 20 to Din’s 27, and in current day is 29 to his 36).

previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist (main) || masterlist (din djarin)

“I’m sorry I shot you,” you say, your voice gravelly. “And for… saying what I said that first day when you came to find me.” 

Your head is leaning against his shoulder, his pauldron removed for your comfort. One of his hands is in yours, the other on your leg. 

“It’s fine…” he pauses, considers. “…Cyar’ika,” he says hesitantly. You missed hearing him call you that. “You were angry with me. You had every right to be.”

You sigh and close your eyes. “Will you ever tell me the whole side of your story?” It isn’t that you don’t believe him—you do, but you’re missing information that would give you the entire picture. 

Mando’s quiet for a long minute. Considering. “Yes. Not right now, though. Let’s wait until we get out on the other side of this. We have enough to worry about.”

You can agree with that. Around a yawn, you ask, “Why did Xi’an end up in a New Republic prisoner transport ship by your hand? And how?”

He’s asked himself that very question. “I considered killing her,” he admits. “It would have been easy to, but I knew that would be the easy way out. I wanted her to live with herself, knowing that there will be no redemption or getting out of this. She’ll have to live the rest of her sorry life with the knowledge of what she’s done and the consequences of those actions. As for the how, I… found myself having to work with her recently against my better wishes. Aside from the obvious, she double crossed me on this job and I gave her some long overdue comeuppance.” 

You nod against his shoulder. “‘S a good reason.” You yawn again. 

“Go to sleep, cyar’ika. I’m not going anywhere. You need your energy for tomorrow.” 

You mumble something. “What about you?”

“I’ll be fine. I can go without sleep for a little while.”

You’re just on the cusp of sleep when an ember from the fire pops, making you jump. 

“It’s all right,” Mando reassures. There’s a pause. “Gimme a second.” Untangling himself from you for a second, he unclips his cloak and wraps it around you. “There,” he murmurs. You hum sleepily as he puts an arm around you. 

You must fall asleep because the next thing you know, the sun is just beginning to peek its way over the horizon. Mando has moved you so that you’re lying down, his cloak still wrapped around you; vaguely you remember him coaxing you onto the ground so that you can rest easier. You blink slowly. The others are still asleep. Glancing at Karga and his crew, your hackles raise. You don’t trust him. His answers were too easy last night. 

Mando’s still sitting on the log, statue-still. You wonder if he might be asleep. Now that you’re beginning to wake up, the ground is hard and uncomfortable. You need to stretch. Get ready for today. Stretching your legs, you pull the cape off you and drape it over Mando’s lap. You lower your head so it’s touching the top of his helmet, put a light hand on his shoulder. He stirs. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” you whisper apologetically. 

“‘S fine. I need to get up anyway. We need to get going.” 

The words of last night hang between you. Not in a necessarily uncomfortable way. It’s clear to both of you that there’s still more to be said. Now is not the time to say them. You’ll have time later, though how much time, you’re not sure as he’s still bringing you back to Kijimi when this is over. 

Not for the first time since being picked up by Mando, you wonder what it would have been like if things had gone according to plan. You’ve wondered that a lot over the years.

- - - - 

Nine years ago, 0ABY

“Mando made me an offer last night,” you whisper to Zarah as you’re getting ready to open the cantina for the day. Your friend looks at you expectantly. “He’s joining the Guild of Bounty Hunters on Nevarro and he wants me to be his partner,” you say excitedly. 

Zarah raises her eyebrows. “Wow,” she says. Though she tries to hide it, she’s clearly not impressed. “Did you say yes?”

You nod, unperturbed by her cynicism. “I’m finally getting out of here.” 

She makes a noncommittal sound. “You as a bounty hunter, though?” she asks, giving you a once-over. “Can’t really see it, no offense. Just… doesn’t seem like you,” she remarks. 

Ignoring the jab, you say, “That part doesn’t really matter. I’m finally getting out of here, Zarah.” 

Zarah can tell there’s no dissuading you. “When are you going?” she asks. 

“Mando had to go and finalize everything with Karga, turn in a bounty as well. He didn’t specify. A few days at most.” 

Little did you know, the bounty that Mando was charged with was Xi’an’s brother, Qin. He frightened you. They both did, but he didn’t annoy you the way Xi’an did. The sooner he’s done with the whole lot, the better. Something you both agree on. 

“I’ll be back soon, cyar’ika,” he’d said to you the night before as you handed him your packed bag of things you could go without for a week. Clothes, trinkets. “I’ll take care of everything and we’ll be seeing the galaxy together in no time.” You had leaned up and kissed him on the cheek of his helmet. 

“I’m glad you’re excited,” Zarah’s voice interrupts your memory, “but are you really sure that this is a good idea?” 

You roll your eyes. “Yes. It’s something I want to do. And when have I ever done anything that I want to do?” For once, she doesn’t have an answer. “We’ve been living in fear and in hopelessness and misery for a long time. When the rebels destroyed the Death Star a few months ago, it felt like the possibility of something new. Is it so selfish to hope for a better life? To strive for it? To do something for myself for once? This is my chance to do that. With someone that I lo—really like.” 

That shuts her up. “As long as you’re sure.” 

“I am.” 

“I’ll miss you,” Zarah offers honestly. “You’re the closest thing I have to a sister and you’re finally doing what we all wanted to do.” 

You give her a hug. “It’s not goodbye forever. Plus, I have to come and see you in action as the queenpin of Kijimi once Zella retires.” 

Three nights later, you’re getting ready for bed when you hear movement downstairs. Your heartbeat quickens in anticipation. 

You can’t wait for him to come up the stairs, so you go downstairs to meet him, ready to be on your way. “Mando? Is that you?” 

There’s no answer. Odd. Usually he says something in the affirmative. It’s dark. Curfew was hours ago, all the lights off. Ordinarily, you’d leave a light on for Zarah, but she spends more nights at Arden’s or Zella’s these days. 

“Who’s there?” you say.

A giggle. Xi’an. Your hackles raise and you back up, wishing you had your blaster on you. She sighs before saying, in an almost sing-song voice, “You really should have stayed out of things that don’t concern you. This will take care of that from happening again.”

That’s all you hear before a literal stab of pain erupts in your ribcage on your left side. 

Darkness. 

When you come to, minutes or hours or days later, you’re in an unfamiliar place. It takes a minute to register that you’re in Kijimi’s medcentre. You don’t feel much of anything thanks to the cocktail of morphling and bacta coursing through your bloodstream. It’s all a bit hazy, like you’re floating a bit. You think you might want to stay here. It’s warm and comfortable and it’s soft, like you’re on a cloud. Everything’s soft and blurred at the edges and you don’t think anything is capable of hurting you. There’s no pain, but there’s nothing else either. Your vision is blurry, but you think you see Mando standing over you. You blink and he comes into focus. He’s standing stock-still, barely composed. “Who?” he asks, his voice pure steel. 

Your voice is raspy; it feels like someone stuffed your throat with burlap. “Xi—” He hands you a glass of water that’s on the bedside table, helping you take a sip. You try again, voice hoarse. “Xi’an.” 

Mando doesn’t say anything and you find yourself struggling to stay awake. You need to talk to him, but first you just need to rest your eyes for a second…

When you wake up again later, Zarah is sitting at your bedside. Mando’s gone, if he was ever there to begin with. “Thank the Maker!” she breathes when she sees your eyes are open. “Don’t try to move just yet, okay? I’m going to call the medic.” 

Your eyes are hot with tears you refuse to let fall. “What happened?” you croak. 

“You were stabbed. By one of the Mandalorian’s former associates,” Zarah explains.

You vaguely remember the events that she’s describing. It seems more like a half-forgotten dream now. 

“You’re very lucky. The medic says that if the officer had been even a few minutes later in finding you, you would have died. I’m going to stay with you in the flat until you’re back on your feet.” 

That piece of information bounces off you. You notice that the bacta and the morphling has worn off. You can feel the stab wound now, practically radiating pain. 

You want to see Mando. He was here, you were sure of it. He has to come to take you away from here. You’re supposed to see the galaxy together. Just you and him. “Mando?” you dare to whisper, blinking against the hot tears that are very close to falling. 

Zarah shaking her head is all the confirmation you need. He’s not here.

The twin tears that have been threatening the entire time finally leak from your eyes and you let out a shuddering sigh, forcing yourself not to shed any more tears. He’s just delayed, that’s all. Had to go apprehend Xi’an. He’s coming for you. He’s not leaving you behind.

He promised.

You repeat those words in your mind over and over as the medic administers more bacta and morphling and you return to your hazy, dreamy cloud. 

Mando’s coming back for you.

He promised.

- - - - 

Present day, 9ABY

“Cyare, are you all right?” asks Mando. 

His voice pulls you from your memory. “I’m fine.” You shake your head, attempting to clear the memory away. 

Mando clearly wants to say more but the others are beginning to wake. You walk back to the campsite to gather what you brought along with you. 

“We should head out,” says Karga. 

The monster last night killed two of the Blurrgs, so you allow Kuiil to take the last remaining one. Mando and you walk in step a few paces back from Karga and his Guild entourage, the child right behind you in his pram, and Kuiil taking up the rear on his Blurrg.

Up ahead, you can faintly hear Karga discussing something with his Guild members in low tones. Exchanging a glance with Mando, you ask, “Do you think they are having second thoughts?” 

Mando shrugs. “Could be. Keep your eyes on them,” he instructs. 

You nod. “I will,” you reply.

Along the walk, the groupings change. By the time the town comes into view, Karga is walking alongside you and Mando and the child with the Guild members and Kuiil behind you. Karga takes a few steps forward. “I guess this is it,” he says. 

Before either you or Mando can react, Karga’s shot the Guild members behind you. You and Mando pull out your blasters as quickly as you can, the Guild members falling to the ground, dead. He holds his blasters upright, showing that he’s not intending to shoot again. That doesn’t encourage you or Mando to lower your weapons. 

“There’s something you should know,” Karga says, walking over to one of the downed members, pushing him over with his foot and kicking away the blaster before turning to face you. “The plan was to kill you and take the kid. After what happened last night, I couldn’t go through with it.” You keep your weapons aimed at him. “Go on. You can gun me down and it wouldn’t violate the code. But if you do, this child will never be safe. Let me take the child to him and then you two…” 

“No.” Mando lowers his gun. “He’s right, but he’s going about it the wrong way. The client is obsessed with getting the kid. He won’t stop until he gets him.”

“At the risk of sounding obvious, it’s a trap,” you point out. 

Mando holsters his blaster. “Take me,” he suggests. 

“What? Bring you?” Karga repeats. 

“Tell him you captured me. I’ll get close to him and take him out,” Mando explains. 

Greef likes this idea. “That could work. Give me your blaster.”

“This is insane,” you say as Mando hands over his blaster. 

Mando agrees. “It’s the only way.”

“I’m coming with you,” you insist. 

Karga is about to disagree but then he thinks of something. “You can be the one that brought him in. It would fit well with…” He gestures at the two of you. “And you can bring the child!” 

Mando shakes his head. “No way. We’re going to fool them instead.” Explaining his idea, Mando turns to Kuiil. “Can you bring the child to the ship, lock yourself in?” 

Kuiil nods. “I will protect the child.” He hands Mando a commlink and picks up the child from the pram as Mando takes out his cuffs, handing them to you. You don’t lower your gaze as you put them on him, making sure that they aren’t on too tight. The three of you walk into town in silence, the empty pram following close behind you.

After a tense, almost standoff at the entry to the town, you notice something’s not right. “Why are there so many stormtroopers?” you whisper. “I thought you said there were four.” 

“The client travels with four. Security has increased since Mando took off with the kid,” Karga replies. 

Your heart won’t stop pounding. You can practically hear it in your ears. There is so much room for error and you can’t shake your feeling of trepidation. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” you murmur. 

“Me too,” Mando replies. 

You arrive at the safehouse and Karga shoves Mando in, you coming in last, your blaster pointed at Mando. Your hands are shaking. You need to summon your queenpin energy. Deep breaths. Steadying your hands, you school your features. Don’t show anyone that you’re afraid. Don’t let them see your bluff. You did this for nine years, you can do it now. 

“See?” Karga mutters. “Four stormtroopers.” He ushers Mando to a table where an old man is sitting. This must be the client. “Look what I brought you. As promised.”

The client stands. “What exquisite craftsmanship. It is amazing how beautiful beskar can be when forged by its ancestral artisans.” He touches the beskar of Mando’s chestplate almost in awe. Mando doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. You can feel the nervous tension radiating off him in waves. He turns to Karga and offers a drink. Karga agrees and you all sit down at the table. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice more stormtroopers coming in. You don’t hear what the client has to say. Something’s not right. 

“The Empire improves every system it touches.” You choose that minute to resume listening and you nearly crush your blaster. 

“Is that so,” you say calmly, so calm it almost unnerves you. 

Karga and Mando both turn to look at you. The client doesn’t seem bothered. “Safety, prosperity, trade, opportunity, peace. Compare it to what is happening now.” Your hand is shaking again beneath the table. “Look outside. Is the world more peaceful since the revolution? I see nothing but destruction and chaos.” His beady eyes dart between the three of you as he speaks. He sets your skin on edge. You’d love to give this man a piece of your mind. Not just for hunting down an innocent child, but also for his views and undoubtedly what he did during Imperial rule. Does he know what happened to your father? You can’t say anything. Can’t risk anything. Not now. Were the situation different, though, there would be no stopping you. “I would like to see the baby,” the old man says suddenly. 

“Ah…” Karga smacks his lips. “It is sleeping,” he says, thinking quickly. 

This doesn’t seem to bother the Imperial officer. “We all will be quiet. Open the pram.” 

Your heart must stop. This is it. You risk a glance at Mando. Just as your fate is about to be decided, the client’s hand inches away from the control panel that would open the very empty pram, there’s radio chatter and a stormtrooper comes over to the table, whispering something in the old man’s ear. 

“Please do not think me to be rude, but I must take this call.” 

A tiny reprieve. 

As soon as he’s out of earshot, you hiss, “Give him his blaster. This is our chance.” In your panic, you missed Mando slipping his cuffs off. Karga hands Mando his blaster. “What are we going to do? There are a lot more than just four of them.” 

Karga doesn’t know what to say to that. “You get one shot,” he tells Mando in an undertone. 

You can’t hear what’s being said on the holocall. The client is speaking in hushed tones to presumably another Imperial officer. 

The client looks back and then he falls to the ground, a blaster bolt hitting him square in the chest. He’s dead. 

An explosion of noise erupts as blaster bolts start raining fire on the cantina. Mando pushes the table over, giving the three of you protection, guarding you with his body. It’s absolute carnage and chaos. Droids and stormtroopers alike going down left and right. You’re shaking so violently you’re sure you’re going to pass out. 

The blaster fire stops suddenly, just as quickly as it had started. Mando touches your arm, says your name. “Are you all right?” 

You nod shakily. “Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

“I’m fine too, by the way,” Karga says. “Thank the Maker, the child isn’t here.” 

The three of you get up from your hiding spot, weapons in hand, and dart over to the viewport that’s been shot clean away. “Kuiil,” you hear Mando whisper into the commlink. “Have you made it to the ship yet?” You don’t hear the answer. “Get the kid on the ship and get him out of here. We’re pinned down!” 

None of you notice the two stormtroopers speeding away.

Outside there is a small army of death troopers, weapons out and at the ready. Another squadron of stormtroopers is quick to follow. A lot more than four. “This is bad,” you say. An understatement if ever there was. 

- - - - 

“You have something I want.”

Din Djarin is going to die here. You all are. He knows this. He runs through a list of options in his head of every possible way this could play out, and they all end the same. His only hope is that the kid gets out of here and is safe. He was ready to die for the child once before and he’s ready to do whatever it takes to keep him safe now. He made a promise and he fully intends to see this through, regardless of whether he lives or dies.

Din remembers what he said to you on Kijimi all those many years ago. About his parents and how they wouldn’t have been proud of who their son was. When he was a small boy in the days and years following their sacrifice, Din had struggled to understand the meaning of sacrifice and the importance of theirs. He found it completely unfair; their loss had left and still leaves a hole in his chest that he’s struggled to fill for almost his entire life. He only really began to understand their sacrifice when he began working with Ran and the others. The first life he took. The innocent bystanders on Alzoc-III that he’s never told anyone about. When he met you, things really started to change. He already wanted to be a better man, to better honour their sacrifice. Meeting you just gave him the push he needed. 

And then the kid came into his life. When Din was sure he was going to die protecting the child in the immediate aftermath of storming the safe house he finds himself in again, he finally understood why his parents did what they did to save him. 

He likes to think that if his parents could see him now, they would be proud of their son and the man he became out of the ashes of his former life.

“You may think you have some idea of what you are in possession of, but you do not.”

He just wishes things were different. He’s dreamed of you for years. You never left his head, not for a single day; you are his greatest dream, his greatest wish unfulfilled. 

He never got a chance to tell you so many things. What happened back on Kijimi. You never got to see his face. Never got to see the galaxy with him. You’re never going to be able to truly mend fences. Grow old together. He’s going to die without ever having heard you say his name. You’re going to die afraid and alone and so far away from the people you know and it’s his fault. Again. For the second time, he’s failed you. 

“In a few moments, it will be mine.” 

All Din can do is hope that, despite the lack of response, Kuiil made it back to the Crest with the baby and they’re safely away from here. He never meant to get attached to the kid. Never meant to fall in love with you. But he couldn’t help himself. It was so easy, on both counts. He was starting to think — starting to hope — the three of you could be a little family one day. 

“It means more to me than you will ever know.” 

Din looks at you. You’re trying to put on a brave face as they set up an E-Web outside, but he knows you. He knows you so well. Your eyes say it all. You’re terrified. You know it’s over. He wants to reassure you that everything will be all right. That you’ll be safe. But he can’t make promises that he can’t keep, especially not to you. He learned that lesson long ago. He can’t fix everything. But he can at least fix one thing. You deserve to know his name before the end. His real name. He says your name, strokes your chin with his thumb. “I need to tell you something.” 

“Right now?” you manage to ask. You try to keep your voice steady, try to maintain the facade of stoicism, but Din sees right through it. 

“Yes, right now,” he says. “It’s important.” 

Rapid gunfire interrupts you. You and Mando turn to look at Karga who’s overturned a couch and is shooting at a sewer grate. He attempts to kick it in, but that does nothing. 

“Your astute panic suggests you understand your situation,” says the Imperial officer from outside. “I would prefer to avoid any further violence, and encourage a moment of consideration. Members of my escort have completed assembly of an E-Web heavy repeating blaster.” Though you saw them assemble it, your heart still sinks. The Imperial officer explains what it is and how it operates. “Perhaps the decommissioned Mandalorian hunter, Din Djarin, has heard the songs of the Siege of Mandalore, when gunships outfitted with similar ordnance…” 

Din doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence. Neither do you. Din was this close to telling you. He didn’t want you to find out his name this way. In a moment of taunting and jest. He wanted to be the one to tell you. 

“Is that your name?” you breathe. “Din Djarin? Is that who you are?” 

It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard, his name being spoken by you. All he can do is nod. 

“And perhaps Kijimi’s queenpin,” the man continues, saying your full name, “can speak of relatives to this heavy blaster. Given that she runs several weapons out of her cantina of similar ilk. I wonder what her dearly departed father would think of his precious daughter participating in such behaviour. Or maybe she knows of such weapons from her estranged ex-lover Din Djarin himself. The two of you have been tracked since you were reunited and engaged in what can only be described as a lovers quarrel at Kijimi’s starport before departing to Arvala-7.” You and Mando share a look, a shard of glass piercing your heart at the mention of your father. “You really should have listened to Zarah Bliss, Din Djarin,” taunts the man, “and stayed away from your darling queenpin like Miss Bliss told you to those many years ago. You were doing such a good job of it, too, staying away from her, doing as you were told. But you wanted to be with her again. You just couldn’t stay away. I can’t say that I blame you. And you, queenpin, should know better after all this time than to stick your nose in places where it doesn’t belong.”

Din’s heart sinks. This isn’t the way you were supposed to find out the rest of the story. Or at the very least, find out who’s involved with the prevention of your ill-fated reunion nine years ago. He can’t help but think this man—Moff Gideon, he thinks it might be, based on what little evidence he has—who knows so much about all of you for one reason or another, might be right. If he had listened to Zarah, you wouldn’t be in mortal danger right now. You’d still hate him and think the worst of him, think that he abandoned you and had Xi’an try to kill you, but you would be safe. You wouldn’t be about to die in a dingey, shot-out cantina with him and Greef Karga. He’s failed you, Din thinks again. Moff Gideon is right. He couldn’t stay away from you. Even if he tried. And he tried. Maker knows he tried so hard. He knows that he should have done things differently. He should have told you his name the first time he met you, should have shown you his face the first time the two of you made love. Should have ignored what Zarah Bliss said and gone back to Kijimi to take you away from there. Told you he loves you long before he did. Made you his wife. 

You turn to face Mando—Din. Confusion is now mixed with your terror in your eyes, beginning to make its way to the rest of your facial features. You can no longer retain your look of practiced stoicism. All Din wants to do is explain. Keep you safe. Protect you. He doesn’t want anything to be going the way that it is, but he doesn’t have a choice. If there is any consolation in this dire situation, it is that he has known you and your love, and that is no small thing. If he had to do it all over again he wouldn’t change much outside of the things he would do differently with you. His decisions early in life led him to you. Led him to the kid. And he wouldn’t change any of that for the entire galaxy.

“What is he talking about, Mando?” you ask, your voice sounding very far away. “What does he mean? What does Zarah have to do with—?”

Din doesn’t have a chance to answer because Moff Gideon chooses that moment to continue in his monologue. “I also advise disgraced former magistrate, Greef Karga, to search the wisdom of his years and urge you to lay down your arms and come outside.” The three of you share a glance of do we listen to him? “The structure you are trapped in will be razed in short order and your storied lives will come to an unceremonious end.” 

Moff Gideon and Karga go back and forth for a minute and it is made very clear very quickly that you cannot trust this Imperial officer to make assurances that he will keep. Not that you did before.

“I will give you until nightfall, and then I will have the E-Web cannon open fire.” With that, he walks back to his TIE fighter, leaving the three of you alone.

You look at Din and repeat your question from a few minutes ago, knowing that now is not the time, nor do you have the time to discuss it. “What was he talking about?”

--- taglist in reblog.

[custardcove]

First Memories

Chapter One - Custard Cove

Roaring shoreline. Lapping waves. Warm sun, salty air, chirping seagulls. Drifting in and out of consciousness, these were the sounds and senses Alice recognised.

Movement was impossible, her limbs felt like they were full of cement—or perhaps sand, as plenty lay beneath her. Somehow, she wasn’t damp. Perhaps the sun had dried her out. She didn’t feel sunburnt. All she wanted to do was sleep, though the pull of the sea was a real threat. In this state, it was difficult to feel strongly about anything.

“Alice?”

Was someone there? There was a blurry, indistinct shape peering over her. Yes, it was probably a person. It was too much of a strain to keep her eyes open, so they fluttered shut.

“Can you hear me? Alice!"

***

Alice awoke in a warm house, surrounded by cushions. A large stuffed owl sat nearby, presumably for her comfort. There was sand in her hair, and she felt like she needed a wash, but the blanket she’d been covered with was still clean. Something about the room she was in was familiar, but she wasn’t sure what it was. It wasn’t just the floral-patterned wallpaper, or the lavender and earthy wood scents, or the comforting babble of voices from beyond the door. The familiarity came from a combination of all three.

Pansy’s.

This wasn’t the same house she knew. Or was it? Moving her limbs was still somewhat strenuous, but Alice forced herself off the guest-bed, inching forward with the hope of confirming her suspicions. She didn’t want to make a fuss. Poking her head around the bedroom door, she saw a hallway, some few doors on her left and the banister and stairs to her right. This was the furthest room upstairs, then. Feeling nosy, she shuffled out and opened the first door to her left, which was revealed to be a bathroom. To decide on how to proceed, Alice glanced back over to the stairwell. There was nothing she wanted to do more than take a bath right now. It didn’t seem like anyone was coming, so she entered, locking the door behind her.

The bath did well to ease her exhaustion. Soap, shampoo, and conditioner were conveniently available, and there was enough in the containers that she didn’t feel guilty about using them. Midway through her wash, there was a tap on the door, making her freeze. A familiar voice brought her relief again.

“You in there?”

“Having a bath,” Alice replied with haste.  

“Oh, sorry—that’s alright. I’ll see if I can find you somethin’ to wear. I’ll put it outside the door, okay?”

“Okay.”

Footsteps that had to belong to Pansy tromped down the hallway as Alice resumed her bath. She hoped she wasn’t being a bad guest; she hadn’t even spoken to her host face-to-face, but Pansy didn’t sound like she minded. Besides, the circumstances were already unusual. Alice borrowed a towel from the cupboard to dry herself, though remained in the bathroom until she was sure Pansy dropped clean clothes by the door.

Once Alice slid the clothes through the door and put them on, she was ready to go downstairs. Her host had provided a pair of pyjamas and a dressing gown to cover herself with, both of which were slightly too large, but clothes were clothes. Alice tied the gown’s belt tightly around her waist so that nothing would fall down, then carried her sandy outfit to the living room. She was surprised by what she saw. Her deduction had been correct, this was indeed Pansy’s house and the pyrokinetic pseuman was sat on one of the living room’s sofas. What Alice hadn’t accounted for was the infant settled on Pansy’s lap.

Before she could think to say anything, Pansy noticed her. “Alice! I’m so glad you’re okay. Seein’ you lying on the beach like that frightened me something awful.”

“Oh, um…” Alice shuffled further into the room and sat on the adjacent sofa, putting the clothing-load beside her. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault—I’ll wash those for you when I’m done with Prim here.” She nodded, adjusting her hold on the child. “How’d you end up there?”

Alice frowned, trying her best to recall. How did she end up on the shoreline? What was she doing before that? The more she thought, the less she understood. She didn’t want to admit how patchy her memory was. “I don’t … remember.” Before Pansy could express concern, Alice directed her attention to the baby and asked, “Where’d you get that?”

Pansy’s troubled frown morphed into a grin. “My daughter? Gave birth.”

“You married?” Alice prompted.

“No, unfortunately. I’ll tell you the whole story sometime, but for now let’s just say I, er, found Mr Wrong.”

“Ah, um, okay.” She rubbed her neck. “Her name’s Prim?”

“Yeah! Short for Primrose. She’s a psychic.”

“But I thought—” Alice paused, blinking, thankful that she could still remember facts she’d picked up about pseumans. “—that your kind didn’t develop powers until you were twelve.”

“Prim’s kinda like Mom,” Pansy explained. “Got her powers early. Gonna be some effort to train her, but I couldn’t be more proud.”

“I see. I’m not the biggest baby enthusiast, but she’s cute. Eyes like yours.”

“Aww, thanks.” She smiled warmly, before returning to an interrogative stare. “But hey, this isn’t about me. Don’t think I’ve forgotten what you said just now. You can’t remember how you washed up here?”

“I can’t.” Alice recoiled in her seat. “If you don’t mind me asking, where exactly is ‘here’ anyway?”

“This place? Erryton.” Pansy nodded. “Costal town near Glimmer City, moved here only recently m’self. And while I’ll admit I’m concerned about you, hon, that bout of amnesia isn’t uncommon for folks here.”

The human’s eyes widened. “It’s … common? Isn’t that worrying for the townspeople?!”

“Well… nah. It’s not big stuff usually, it’s more or less a memory-gap. Only what they were doing before they got here—not where they came from or how to get back home. Some folks can remember how they arrived, but not how long they’ve been here. And apart from that, it’s the ideal neighbourhood.”

“You’re taking this very calmly, Pansy,” Alice squeaked, nearly standing until her exhaustion dragged her back down. “If everyone is forgetting, I’d want to leave before it gets any worse—”

“Well, that’s the thing—it doesn’t get worse.” Pansy shrugged her shoulders. Primrose squirmed in her arms, but she was only stretching. “Nobody forgets any more ‘n that.”

“I just think it’s something someone should be looking into,” Alice huffed, shaking her head. “But anyway, there’s one small thing I do remember.”

“What’s that?”

“I think I’ve lost something. Or that I was looking for something. Not always the same thing.” She scratched behind her ear, glancing over at one of Pansy’s many potted plants. “But I don’t know what it is.”

“Hmm…” Pansy thought for a moment, before snapping her fingers with inspiration. Her daughter stared at her hand in surprise. “Actually, I think Queenie found something of yours! I haven’t seen you around for ages, so I didn’t think much of it at the time, but she was showin’ it off and stuff.”

“Queenie?” Alice searched her memory banks for the name. Yes, she knew Queenie. Somehow. Rich, lived in a mansion, part dragon, had an affinity for blue roses, was … dead? Evidently not. “What’s the something?”

“A necklace. A sort of, you know, one of those heart lockets?” Pansy gestured at nothing. “Can’t prove it is yours or nothin’, but I remember you had one, ‘cause it was enchanted for your HP. And it doesn’t look like you got it no more.”

Alice pondered this. It wasn’t leaping out at her as the thing she’d been looking for—there was no ‘aha!’ moment. But there was no question about it, she’d lost her locket too. “It could be. Maybe she even knows what happened to me.” Or, heaven forbid, she was what happened. “What should I do? I can’t just walk into her house, can I?”

“Nah, you’re right about that. Queenie’s villa isn’t someplace you can just waltz into. But you could always write her a letter? I know she reads ‘em.”

“A letter.” So they were playing the long game. “Better than nothing, I suppose. Ugh…”

“You okay?”

“I’m just exhausted.”

Pansy stood up, carrying Prim over her shoulder. “A’ight, I think it’s about time I made you something to eat. I’ll wash those clothes for you, and you can rest here as long as you need. Though I reckon we should call your parents sometime soon, let ‘em know you’re here.”

“Okay. Thank you.” Alice hesitated before adding, “I’m glad you’re the one that found me.”

“Me too!”

---

|| Next ||

[michimichim]

moonlight | lia

disclaimer: top!genderneutral reader x bottom!lia

it must be about twenty-five past ten when you make it to her place.

you find the apartment dimmed in a warm apricot glow with the blinds partially shut so the warm, milky glow of the moon still permeates the living room. the windows remain open, letting in the warm, garden-fresh breeze blend with the sweet lemon spice lia likes to dash around the apartment.

the quiet drone emanating from the t.v gently fills in the comfortable silence of the room, its screen paused on a mario kart race with a switch controller lying adjacent to the remote, waiting for its owner to return to it. peeking around the corner, you find said owner lounging on the couch, half-turned to face you, her legs curled up beneath her with a book nestled between her lithe fingers and a soft linen throw covering her thighs.

“hey,” you croak, setting your bag on the table situated in the hallway.

lia’s fingers still from their writing for a moment, barely registering your arrival before her lips are slipping into a tender smile, a lingering glint of sleepiness on her face as she greets you back. you laugh out contentedly when she reaches out to you, her lips slipping into a heavy pout, and you take her hand without hesitation, allowing yourself to get pulled down.

sinking into the silken cushions with a tired sigh, your arm slung over the top of the couch, fingers overhanging her shoulder, she’s quick to gravitate towards you.

“thought you’d be sleeping by now,” you note as you shift position, facing her properly. the light mellows out over your features, washing away the sleepless nights from beneath your eyes and colors your skin in technicolour – lia thinks she’s never seen someone prettier.

“not without seeing you first,” she replies, soft locks of ebony hair falling like a curtain in front of her eye. she can’t help it; she worries about you. more often than not she finds herself sitting in this living room, staring at the door like a hawk, ears alert for the turn of the doorknob, the jiggling of your spare keys struggling with the lock. “i missed you.”

“is that so?” you question, warmth and a teasing tone in your voice, your eyes languidly scan down her body to admire how your shirt hangs aesthetically on her, fitting over her lithe frame. one hand subconsciously begins sifting through it carefully, the other pressed flush against her warm skin. “is that why you also started playing mario kart without me?”

lia titters, unfolding her legs over your lap. “oh, we can play,” she peers up at you through doe eyes and untrammeled mirth dancing in her mousy colored nebulas.“just no excuses when you lose. again.”

“so i let you win, once or twice, and suddenly, you’re a little shit.” you muse, running your hand over the side of her legs – they glisten under the subdued glow of the light – and hum approvingly when goosebumps spread all over her skin. moments like these were rare. moments where you were not swallowed up between work and daily life. where you could show up after a tedious day and crash at her place. “was that the aim of your call?”

she leans her head against your shoulder, knuckles caressing your cheek, then dipping to stroke the skin at the nape of your neck. “hmm, no, the aim was to finally get you to come over.” her hands are affectionate, long and thin, they fit so perfectly massaging the knotted spot between your neck and shoulder. “did you eat?”

“mhm,” you reply, lip quirking.

“i have tea,” she offers, scooting farther into your side when you move to brush the bangs toppling over her forehead. “dessert?” she asks once more after the slight shake of your head.

this right here is also part of your routine; she asks if you’ve eaten yet, you either tell her yes or no and depending on that answer, she’ll order something whereas ten minutes later you would be too engaged with your head between her thighs or on them, playing competitive multiplayer games online.

“i’m okay, sweetheart,” you glance down at the journal lying open between you, over the detailed, checkered lines and drawings, writings and doodles. the journal was something she obtained at your suggestion, she filled it with anything that came up in her head whenever it’d wander off. “what were you writing?”

“not much,” lia whispered, the expression on her face is somewhere between caught and a bit too flustered to be ‘not much’. “still wanna see?” she asked, seemingly buzzing with quiet energy as she places the small book between you.

as pure and innocent, and adorable the idea was, the journal was not meant for just about anyone’s eyes. some – most– of the pieces are brow-raising. detailed texts of you conducting rudimentary activities to lyrics deciphering rather compromising acts are scribbled in elegant swirls three pages down.

she reaches out, and you allow her hand to wander, snuggling under your shirt and up your stomach, fingers tickling the spot beneath the hem of your bra. your limbs tangle into a jumbled combination of knees and legs, warmth trickling in your bones, and it’s the unique place you crave to remain at right now.

you nose along her temple, then stroke your lips over the area. she smells like mango and laundry detergent, and everything pleasant in between. “still wanna see.” you confirm, and she goes over the little doodles and rundown of the recent days.

you smile against her cheek. “when was this?” you ask, smoothing small kisses on her cheekbone, feeling her fingers under your shirt sailing up and down your skin. there’s a small drawing of a dog with what looks like cake on the side.

“at the pier,” she responds while soothing leisure circles with her thumb above the hem of your jeans, then retreating to point at the tiny drawing of a dog at the bottom corner of the page. “with the manager’s dog, remember?”

“right.” you smile fondly at the memory. you resume your skimming until you land on the most recent, gaze sliding down the page, the words scribbled across take a second to digest. lia senses the shift, instantly growing restless for an emotion to cross, anxious for a reaction from your end. it’s only when you turn to her and her eyes flick up to meet your burning stare, a quiet smile crossing your mouth – that constant smile that makes her fall hard and fast – that her heartbeat roars up to her ear because she knows that smile. she’s familiar with the stern, yet gentle stare that melts right through her; it comes with the feeling of wetness sticking to her pussy lips, inner thighs rubbing over your lap.

“read it to me,” you say, brushing your thumb over her lower lip, never quite pressing against it like lia wants you to. the presence and feeling on her lip make her want to kiss the tip, dip her tongue along the length before finally parting her rose lips to swallow to give it lazy licks with appreciative and wet sucks.

one of your arms is still enclosed around her, keeping her in a possessive, tender hold.

knowing better than to stall, lia clears her throat, lifts the journal – partially to hide her reddened cheeks, the other to focus solely on the words she’s written instead of the heavy-lidded gaze you’ve trained on her.

“i woke up longing for them again,” lia glances at the next sentence and blinks, teeth biting into the pretty, soft cushion of her lower lip. "their mouth on my neck, their hands between my thighs, beneath the pretty panties i ordered last week, the one with the red lace and shin material just so i could feel their fingers on my clit –" she has to stop and take a breath; is this sentence ever ending? for a breathless second the following words look like a cliché, which is remarkably annoying because she’d convey it numerous times in her head.

the fingers that were tenderly caressing her lip trail downwards to her plump chin, her sleek neck that you don’t hesitate to grab between gentle fingers: "– to have their fingers tease at my folds, pressing against my hole as they leave stark hickies on that spot on my neck." she reaches the maddeningly imponderable period at last, and there is no deceiving the lively pleasure, the sensual frisson spreading over her body.

“continue,” you rasp, peering at her through wide eyes, turned dark as the depth of the ocean that lia finds herself disregarding what she was in the process of saying. to say this side of her is thrusting wild thoughts into your head is an understatement; it’s provocative, and she knows precisely the impact it sustains on you –– the sensuous rush that starts somewhere low in your abdomen and radiates through your core into a gradual, throbbing wave.

it makes you want to take eternity ravaging her; a constant reminder of what she can be: a porcelain girl, one who rouses lust in those around her despite herself; a warm essence dribbling sweet and bitter for ill-intentioned lovers to dig their decaying teeth into, to lift the rhythm from her beating heart and split petals from her chest.

before she can begin spluttering, you unlatch the ultimate move and lower your mouth to the arch of her neckline, efficiently quelling her will to keep going. you kiss back over the faint, purpled spots you’ve littered on her neck a week ago and judging by how quickly her breaths become pleasant sighs, you know she’s done for.

it's proving more strenuous to focus on her lines when your mouth suddenly closes on her throat like that – gathering skin between your teeth, licking and sucking at the flushed skin. she stumbles twice on the words, a moan slipping in between before she’s tilting her head back for more access.

with a hand underneath her thighs, you bring her closer into you, grazing your teeth on her skin. this time she lets go of the leather journal to drift her hand over the crook of your neck, nails skimming down your shoulder.

it was no good, nothing is going to impel her to finish the entry. you made sure of that with your ridiculous velvet and nectar-sipping lips, and that was the end of the story.

as you trail back up, palpable lips capture yours, kiss seeping into your soul and digging a home beneath your skin just to leave you breathless at the memory of her languor-glazed cupids. she provides trees in your ribcage but succeeds in stealing the oxygen from your lungs.

you can taste the smile against her lips, a muffled noise escaping your throat as she scratches her nails through your hair. and just as the light of the moon comes intruding through the window, whispering stripes of the curtains onto your skins, she does the same with calamitous fingertips planting stars farther down, just slightly, teasing the waistband of your underwear. slipping her fingers in and drawing it out before letting it snap back.

“where should i touch you?”

the question earns you a picturesque sight in the form of a dusting pink seeping across the apples of her cheeks, skin prickling from the attention, tempted to crawl into your lap and kiss the rawness of your lips – no matter how sore and flush hers feel. “everywhere.”

“everywhere’s not quite specific.” your arms, still enveloping her, begin to travel from their chaste position to her sides, purposely skirting the outline of perky nipples through the flimsy material of her t-shirt. you already know where you should touch, evidently, but the teasing is incomparably more rewarding at the moment.

she moans, shifting between the space of your legs. “do i need to beg?” the way she suggests it begins hot arousal curling in your gut.

she’s not unwilling to beg, her speech a murmur streaming down your skin, voice shredded to bits. she asks again, stammering in a low groan as she squirms closer to you, back flush against your breasts. her hands attempt to grasp at something, anything, fluttering but not quite able to.

“i can’t touch you properly if you can’t stand still, kitty.” you hum, making a little pleased noise under your breath as you grope shamelessly at her body – not quite rough, just … careless in a way that makes lia blush. she’s blushing to the roots of her hair when she recognizes the nature of your hum. it’s the same as when you get an idea. usually the best ones, but in this case, it could only have more definitions.

“give me a kiss?” you request, hand trailing up the inside of her t-shirt, warm hands on even warmer skin. her body gives a shiver as you skate your fingers up her ribs, gliding across prominent bone and sleek skin as they ruck the loose-fitting shirt up to her collarbones. once her chest is bare to the tepid air, you bend your head to kiss along her awaiting lips.

they part and your tongues flick and curl together in a languid lust-drunk rhythm. lia whines as one of your arms wound around her waist, pressing her further against you and the other, with familiar callouses, fondles her breast. her nipples perk readily and her back arch as she tries to match the pace, bucking into the teasing sensation of her peaking nub between your fingertips. you repeat the squeezing motions, slow and methodical in your explorations, endeared and pleased at each response she gives you.

then her tongue makes an appearance, wet, slippery, and traces your swollen lips. you make a noise you don’t recognize at the back of your throat – something hot and needy.

only once her cries recede to moans and then to whimpers do you switch sides, leaving the first nipple bright and swollen while you take up the other.

the other that had been paused at the curve of her ribcage, slither down, tugging on the edge of her cotton shorts. you trail at the inside of her thighs, thumb pressing and teasing against her cunt.

lia’s mouth that had been hovering yours, warm breath against your lips, cherry red, parted slightly and they demanded more – more of the feel, the heat of your mouth again. so without further thought, she slides her hand behind to caress your jaw until her thumb rests on that temptingly lower lip. her thumb presses into the flesh, slipping sideways while you tease and catch it between your teeth.

just then your other hand pushes further, fingertips just disappearing beneath her underwear. the tips of your fingers brush against her lips, feeling the wetness lingering. it’s easy to slide a finger inside, slow and delicate, it doesn’t take much for her to get used to the intrusion, her body responding beautifully, breath quickening as she wills it to move, pleading silently with a hand over yours.

undeterred, you continue at your leisure while tugging on her nipple, mindful of the pain underscoring pleasure. you can feel the rough fabric against the back of the knuckles inside of her underwear brushing in time of your slow strokes.

“feels good?” you murmur, trailing a feather touch to the outside of the areola, flicking it onto the bunched nerves to watch her twist in pleasure. you continue to circle the tortured skin with flicks of your fingers, biting your lower lip at the mewls coming from lia.

“mhm.” she barely rasps out, her hips rolling up against you, brain ​​fuzzy and clouded by pleasure. a stifled whine escapes once your fingers retract to start playing with her clit in a slow coaxing motion.

you’ve never really needed to say much. her lewd moans, sighs and the sounds her pussy makes each time you fuck into her tell you more than she thinks she ever could. you’ve already grown so accustomed to the little things that words hold an unnecessary weight against your body language.

you curl your fingers up into her core, slow strokes that require mastered knowledge of her body, forearm sinewy with concentration. she watches your wrist curling, tendons tightening, doe eyes wide, hair the color of gold chocolate falling over bright cheeks and strands sticking onto her mouth. a cute yelp-turned-moan escapes lia as you bury your face into her neck, sucking on the same sensitive spot you were teasing earlier.

she feels so full already, and you’re only using your fingers, but it’s already so much – every nerve in her body is attuned to your hand; the thumb and index clamping around the areola with just enough pressure to send yet another wave she can feel down to her clit.

lia wrenches her head backwards, pain lancing over the skin, jaw dropping first on a cry that echoes off the walls and then on a gasp that scraps her throat. you start rolling the sensitive bud in time to the tugging and it’s near .. poetic, so gentle it becomes pleasurably painful.

your pointer brushes against the hardened tip and lia’s hands are already bunched in the fabric of the couch beneath you, nearly ripping it as she attempts to remain still through the hard shivers taking over her body.

“choke me.”

“thought you’d never ask.” there’s nothing but admiration in your tone as you pinch the nipple on a whim, eager to give her a happy ending. your fingers flex around the fine and slender column of her neck, your other hand strokes a thumb absently over her nipple and lia loses all strength to contain her high pitched moans.

tingling pleasure roils over her. she tells you to pinch again. to squeeze down as she exhales softly.

“how cute.” you purr, licking a stripe up her neck while your hand pursues its work at her nipple. in the buzzing, inebriating pleasure expanding over her, lia is cognizant that she’s past wet, still dripping, smearing your palms and slicking your fingers.

she shuts her dazzled eyes as the fierce pleasure piles up in steady waves, a rising tide overtakes her, and her entire body draws up tight. sensing her climax, you squeeze her tits together, tugging at the nipple you had left alone as you suck harder on her neck.

lia’s head drops back with a moan, cunt squeezing as the stinging pain dulls into an endless pressure.

she sluggishly reaches out with quivering fingers, fingers locating your other hand and twining them together. ambrosian hair pools like molten nectar in the hollow of your collarbones, breath fanning gold on your skin, a frown marring her features before sleep takes over consciousness.

[sweetsbfreex]

a father’s duty

Summary: brought to u by the wholesome picture of Cevans sewing up dodger’s stuffed lion 🤧

Warnings: Talk of trauma (nothing too in depth) and talk of sex

Pairings: Dad, Husband!Ransom x reader

-

You and Ransom were cuddled up together on the couch, some random movie he had chosen that you weren’t paying attention to. You wanted to cuddle, but he insisted on watching this movie so a compromise had to be made. And the feeling of his hand going up and down, inside your shirt, against your arm; Could only make you purr in contentment.

And you were meant to doze off if it wasn’t for the dramatic, high pitched scream of pure agony. You both shot up from your seats, looking at each other wide eyed before dashing up the stairs (Ransom ahead). 

Until you were in the doorway of an overly purple room.

“Mommy! Daddy!”

Ransom let a small, stunned gasp at the feel of a teary eyed four year old, Celeste bolting to his legs. Her small arms had tried to wrap around his legs as she sobbed into his jeans, fists tight as she clutching the denim. 

Confused you had leant down adjacent to her, Ransom peering down from his stance, lifting her arms to softly run circles over her back. 

“What’s wrong baby?” a fake pout on your lips.

“She’s dead!” she had sobbed, her puffy cheek making contact with his expensive jeans to make eye contact with you. 

“What? Who’s dead babe?” Ransom asked, tilting his head downward, eye brows stitched together. 

She propped her chin up against his leg, “Daffy” she blubbered, extending her arm behind her to point at the limp stuffed bunny a few feet away.

“Fucking––” He couldn’t finish his sentence a hearty laugh emitted into the otherwise somber air, still laughing (some tears streaking his face) he had picked up the once blubbering girl so she saddled on his hip. 

“Ransom! It’s not funny and language, god”

“C'mon” he dragged the n, “You gotta admit this is hilarious, she’s so dramatic...I wonder who she gets it from” he smirked, looking at you knowingly. 

“You” you appointed, holding back your smile. 

“As if” he scoffs rolling his eyes. 

“Daffy!” Celeste exclaimed, snapping the two from their loving trance. 

“Right!” you snapped yourself back into mom mode, making way to Daffy and your way back to the two, watching Ransom wipe the tears from Celeste’s face, calming her down in a hushed voice.

You sidle up next to Ransom lifting the stuffed animal, so the both of you could evaluate the state of her favorite buddy. You looked up to him, watching his face scrunch up, almost like disgust, but you knew he was just very confused.

“Jeez leste, what’d you do?” 

The light yellow bunny up front was perfectly fine, but once you had turned it around a tear in the fabric of the it’s “spine” was parted, the thread poking out along the hem. 

“I–– I was just spinning her around”

“Is that really what you did” you prompted.

“No..” she set forward shyly, resting her temple against her father’s shoulder. “There was a string and then I pulled it by accident”

“By accident?” Ransom asked, eyebrows raised. 

“On purpose” she mumbled, eyes tearing up slowly.

Celeste is probably the biggest liar the two of you know. You both have been working on that habit, reassuring her that it was fine and being honest is better most times (minus surprises, safety, etc). You both had even resorted to acting out examples for her. She was getting better, but ever the fibber she still found a way to slip into the habit. And when you had asked her why exactly she loved lying, she only replied with a quib “It’s fun!” giggling to herself. 

“Hey it’s okay, you were curious” he cooed, “Mommy will fix it don’t worry” 

You looked up at him mesmerized, not so surprised at the father he was becoming. Remembering all those nights he had kept the two of you up, even the day you were in labor, he had been worried. How was he ever supposed to love a kid properly–– let alone his–– when he never had that benefit. All these what ifs running through his head in a cycle.

He had even taken it upon himself to sign you both up for those parenting classes. The ones with the fake dolls. Dolls that he held gently as if they were alive.

“I will. You’ve had a long day, love, you wanna go to bed now?” you asked her, smiling. 

She nods silently, reaching her hands out to you. Ready for the familiar night routine to begin.

––––

After Celeste had been put to bed, it was not you and Ransom being the only two up. You were both in your shared bathroom, getting ready for bed. 

You groaned, catching the attention of Ransom. “Sewing that thing is gonna be some work” watching yourself in the mirror as you rub in your lotion. 

“You’re tying that thing together, how hard can that be?”

“I’m sewing it together” 

“Tomato, Tomahto” he responded. 

“Fine, since you think it’s so easy why don’t you fix it for her?” 

“Deal. I’ll take another night of anal as my end” he says this confindently, not expecting another word for you, as he saunters past you briskly but not before placing a kiss to your check and a rough smack to the ass. 

Ransom.

–––––

And god did he take this seriously. Making sure you were up this entire time as he achieved his new level of domesticity. 

And you did, sitting up against the headboard as you watched him sit shirtless across the sized room. 

He sits in the barrel chair. the stuffed animal in his lap, a spool of light pink thread to match the bunny in between his legs, and a packet of needles in his hand. 

“Babe you have to––”

He holds up a hand, stopping you from saying whatever you were about to say.

“I got this babe” he tells you, looking at you wearily as he pulls up a video (‘how to sew stuffed bunny animal together’) on his phone. 

You watch him watch the video,switching the show you were watching to make it seem as if you weren’t watching him too carefully. 

He squints, focused as he listens to the lady in the video.

“You look so cute”

“Thanks” he grumbles, placing a thimble on his pointer finger. 

He was like a cute grandmother. His eyebrows brought together and tongue poking through his cheek, which you teased him endlessly about. There was just something about watching a brawly, grumpy man like him knit. So you pulled your phone out wanting to take a quick picture. 

“Put. it. down.” he tells you, not even looking away from his task.

“Wha–– You’re really creepy, you know that. Smile” you demand of him. “It’d be so cute for the album”

He of course doesn’t smile instead raising the stuffed animal to cover his face from the camera, but you were quick enough to get something before that. Smiling fondly at the adorable photo of his concentrated face. Once you had your fill of serotonin, you closed the device and reached over to set it on your nightstand. 

“You gonna give me a kiss goodnight before you go?” he asks you stoically, head still looking down at his task. 

“Yes Ransom. Just give me a minute’ you respond, shimmying yourself from the soft sheets. You make your way besides Ransom–– naturally he wraps one arm around your waist to bring you–– leaning down and placing a kiss to his cheek (which he smiles at) then his lips. He pulls back first only to return again for a deeper one. Sending you off, finally, with a pinch to your ass. 

“Goodnight, Baby” you tell him over your shoulder on your way back to the bed. 

“Night y/n/n.”

–––––

“y/n” is whispered in your ear and the shaking of your shoulder is what causes you to wake up. You turn your head over your shoulder to see Ransom standing over you gleefully. 

“Ransom?” you rasp, turning your whole body over to face him, looking at the clock on your night stand. “It’s two in the morning!”

“Thanks captain obvious” he mutters, rolling his eyes. Yet, he lifts up the stuffed animal. Both hands on either paws, holding it up to show you. “I finished!”

You instantly noticed the band-aid wrapped around his thumb and the brightest smile on his face. Through it you could see how proud of himself he really was. He really was getting a hand of this dad thing he was still figuring it out. 

Ransom, however, could only think about how tired he was and how strained his eyes felt––probably rimmed red. With the amount of times he had to rewatch the video because he missed or didn’t understand a step. But, for his little girl it was definitely worth it. 

“Well, look at you. You did so good bub” you extend your arm up lazily to then loop it around his neck, bringing him down for a kiss. 

If only his conceited friends could see him now. Thinking about how Danver, one of the many friends he had dropped, would berate him passively. Calling it a women’s role most likely. 

“Thank you” he settles one more kiss, “Let’s go”

“Go where?” you chuckle

“Leste’s room...where else? She’ll need him to sleep the rest of the night comfortably” he explains, removing your arm from his neck. To gently tug your hand.

“You sure?” you ask hesitantly.

“Hundred percent, let’s go”

––––

You open the door slowly, the creaking sound it emitted making you cringe. And when you’re hushed by Ransom, you twist around instantly sending him a stink eye.

And you both stand against the side of her bed, you crouch down. Raising your hand to her shoulder. 

“Lesty” you whisper, your thumb running circles over her shoulder. 

She wakes up slowly, as always. The clear indication that she is awake being when she raises her hand to rub at her eyes.

“Mommy? She stops and gasps, “Are we going to Disney?” asking the question with glee, she sits up, her hands placed over her book patterned pajama pants.

You and Ransom share a short laugh. Remembering how you surprised her just like this months ago. The frown that overtakes her face makes you both want to laugh. 

“I’m going back to sleep” she tells you both, already reaching for her blanket. 

“Wait” you laugh, holding her hand. “There's a surprise for you” 

At your announcement, Ransom steps up holding out the sewed up stuffy. Her tiny hands covered the gasp she let out, muffling it.

“She’s fixed!” she’s astonished, running her fingers  along the stitches. 

Celeste felt like a jumping bean with all this happiness filling her body and she wasn’t sure how to express how happy she felt. So, she jumped onto her mother, arms latched onto her neck. Kissing her cheek incessantly.

“Thank you thank you thank you-”

“Actually––” you start.

“Woah! Woah! Woah!” ever the dramatic, “Momma didn’t do this. I did babe” he tells her, a gobsmacked, playful expression on his face. 

Ransom’s replica quickly unlatched herself from y/n, rocketing herself into his arms. He held onto her tightly. Falling in love with the toothy smile–– albeit it was missing a front one–– she gave him. He was rolling around in her appreciation towards his gesture. This was all he wanted. To be a better man for you to marry and be a better father for his daughter.

He brought her into him a little bit, placing a kiss to her forehead. 

“Anything for you Leste” he tells her in a hush. 

You rise slowly from your crouch, knees a bit sore from how long you were down there. Just in awe of the love they both exerted towards each other. Ransom’s hand lightly flying over the back of her head and Her tiny palm coddling his cheek.

“Time for bed?” you ask the two of them, your hand naturally going to Ransom and Celeste’s shoulder.

“Yeah. I’m tired” she tells you, dragging out the h. Setting her cheek to her dad’s muscled shoulder. Nuzzling her cheek against it lazily. 

“Yeah? Well let’s put you in bed first” Ransom responds. 

You walk behind the two, as Ransom sets her down gently on her bed.

He sets a kiss to her cheek then he pulls back, watching the way her arms tighten around the stuffed animal. 

“You love it?” he asks, a proud smile etched on his face. 

“Yes” she whispers, “Thank you, daddy” her palm caressing the top of it’s head. 

“Anything for you Leste” he reaffirmed. He needed her to know that he’d do anything. Anything. To keep a smile that bright on her precious face. He didn’t want her to doubt if he ever loved her or if she could ever come to him about anything. He especially didn’t want her to think that she’d be second to his work. 

He loved her too much and decided, right when you told him the news, he’d learn from his parents’ mistakes and trauma he had to deal with. 

“Goodnight, honey”

He gets up from his spot watching you lean over placing a kiss to her cheek, tugging the crocheted blanket to Celeste’s chin. 

“Night baby” you tell her sweetly.  

“Night” she replies to the both of you before snuggling into the duck more. 

––––

RIght when you shut the door, you expect to face Ransom’s back walking towards your bedroom. But try not to scream, startled, when your head meets with his chest.

You look up, probably not the smartest thing to do. “You ready for bed?” you ask nervously, each hand landing on his broad shoulders. 

With the way he was looking at you, you would assume you were the last stash of biscoff cookies he always keeps fully stored in the house. Especially, with the other Drysdale in the house, the cookies went by faster when they used to.

“Don’t think so..We made a bet. Remember?” he smiles

“RIght now?!” you hiss lowly. He must have lost his mind. “You woke me up at like three in the morning”

“It was actually two” you whack his arm at his smart mouth, of course he doesn’t react.  “Anyway. A bets a bet. Let’s go baby” he crouches down, lifting you up swiftly into a bride-groom like position.

“Ransom!” you whisper, taken by surprise. 

“A quickie and then we’ll drop her off at your parents tomorrow to get to the real stuff tomorrow” he asserts.

With that, he picks up his speed. Taking you both down the hallway. Once he’s arrived at his destination–– the bedroom–– he throws you on the bed. Laughing to himself with how stricken you look. You should be used to this by now, he tells himself. 

“Ransom!” is the last of his name he hears with a tone of scolding mixed with shock, before he gets to work. When he climbs on top of you quickly––like a lion to prey––biting your neck. 

-

if you enjoyed pls don’t forget to reblog or give feedback if ur up to it <3

[angelatsumu]

gala (m. izuku & b. katsuki)

hello friends! it's been a while, but i am back with some bakugo/izuku x reader food <3

warnings: NSFW! minors DNI or i will eat your whole family. fem!bodied reader, izuku called izzy, izzy calls reader puppy, cucking, thigh riding, m! masturbation, oral (f! giving), cumeating, mean bakugo, dom!izuku & dom!bakugo, very subby!reader, alcohol mention

NSFW under the cut, also not proofread <3

katsuki is not the nicest guy when his gorgeous girl is being so clingy to Deku

your giggle rings through his ears as he watches from across the room, the way you clung to Izuku's arm like a fragile doll was driving him mad. that dress hugged your curves too tight, inching up your side with every keen into izuku, and without thinking he'd slide his hand down and adjust it for you, hands ghosting over your curves. he knew what he was doing, having pro-hero Dynamight's special girl draped over his arm like some prize, some prize he hadn't truly won. katsuki's blood was boiling, but he knew he couldn't cause a scene. after all, Deku had mentioned the gala to him, and he seemed disinterested. when you brought it up, begging to be taken to your first hero gala, he brushed you off, claiming he didn't want to show you off to the world just yet. so, here you were, Deku's prize for the evening. knowing you decided to go with his comrade, Bakugo swore he would only go to the gala to be sure you were safe, that he wouldn't get jealous. the seething was telling a different story.

your emerald ballroom gown that hugged your curves so tightly got hitched on the swell of your thighs once more, catching enough to displace the thigh slit just enough for Deku to blush. once again his hand snaked around your hips, tugging the dress down only slightly, and this time his hand held its place on your hip. a blush rose to your cheeks as your sipped from the champagne flute in your hand, eyes scanning the room for your lover. you knew katsuki too well, and you knew he would be at the event the moment you agreed to Deku's invitation. your eyes met his, and he cut his eyes at you before rolling them. you immediately divert your attention back to Deku as he squeezed you closer to him, clearly aware of your boyfriend's presence. Izuku's touch made you feel hot, the lingering circles he traced into your hips with each flirtacious giggle and stolen glance. you'd be lying if your senses weren't intoxicated on Izuku's hero demeanor, finding yourself at the end of this desire to be saved by Deku.

"how 'bout some water, puppy? you've had quite a few of those." the comment itself was innocent, but the thing that caught you off guard was the nickname that made your knees buckle. he knew, the sly smirk as he handed you a glass of water told it all. "hm, o-okay," you gasped softly, taking the water from him and having a few sips to clear your head. Deku's left hand never leaves your side as he watches you, drinking in your reaction to his words. you felt hot, like you were boiling under your skin. bakugo felt the same, more than aware fo the effects Deku had on his girl. still, he waited. bakugo was amazing at playing the long game, more than willing to edge you for hours to get a point across. still, tonight, watching your hands linger on Deku's chest, eyes gazing into his lustfully, chest heaving at the mere charisma of his friend, he knew something more than edging needed to be done.

just as you were collecting your thoughts from the gutter, deku reaches into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. he grins when he sees the caller and immediately answers. "i knew you couldn't stay away," he starts, eyes scanning the room for your lover. he sighs contently when they lock eyes, listening to your lover's undeciphered words on the other line. "oh, i fully intend to," he remarks, a sly chuckle leaving his lips as he placed his phone back in his pocket. you look to deku with confused eyes, and he beams down at you, squeezing your hip an inch tighter. "puppy, we have business to attend to," he whispered in your ear, placing a chaste kiss against the shell of your ear. you blush deeper, nodding your head slowly and allowing him to lead you from the middle of the ballroom. he ushers you to the elevator, insisting he needed to stop at his hotel room before continuing the evening.

deku has you pressed against the door of his hotel room within seconds of entering, his knee coming between your legs to spread them apart. his lips immediately speckle kisses along your neck, moans leaving your lips. "i-izzy, please," you whine, eyes screwing closed as your curse yourself for allowing your resolve to fade. "i love it when you call me that, doll," he groaned against your skin, large hands roaming your body and settling one on your breast the other on your hip. "call him it again, teddy~". your eyes spring open as you crane your neck to see your beloved boyfriend sitting with his legs crossed in the chair adjacent to the window. deku lets out a groan against your skin, groping your breast over the gown as his presses his thigh into the gap between your legs. "you couldn't just stay quiet for another minute, huh, kacchan?" izuku grins against your skin, feeling your breath hitch as you realize your beloved boys had set you up once again. "daddy wants to watch, teddy. be good to izzy," katsuki scolds you and your cunny throbs at the command. deku's hands reach to bunch up your dress around your waist to reveal you had opted out of panties for the evening, and both boys let out a soft groan. "so you planned on fucking him anyway, huh slut?" deku directs his attention to katsuki, shooting him a warning glare as katsuki holds the menacing, shit-eating grin he normally held.

deku turns back to you lovingly, sliding you onto his thigh so that your bare cunny throbs against his toned muscle. he stood there, entranced by your overwhelmed expression as you worked your hips on his thigh, desperately seeking any stimulation to your swollen clit. "getting your mess all over my emerald suit, puppy~" he teased, earning a chuckle from katsuki. your eyes closed softly as your form subconsciously clung to izuku while you chased your release. you could feel their eyes burning into your skin, and that made your blood run even hotter. deku scoops you into his arms, carrying you to the mattress where he sat on the edge of the bed, sliding his thigh between your legs once more. he held your hips in place to halt your movement, left hand reaching to pinch your cheeks and make you look at him. "i want you to make a mess of my expensive pants, and then, you'll do the same for daddy, okay?" your eyes scan his face for any semblance of joking but found nothing. you sighed, realizing you were in for the longest ride of your life. you nod softly, beginning to work your hips over his toned thigh once more. your cunny dragged against the soft material of his slacks, the texture making your body tense with each roll of your hips. deku took the opportunity to slip your dress off of your shoulders, freeing your breasts for his lips to caress. izuku brought his tongue across your left nipple, sending a chill up your spine as he began circling and nipping at the sensitive bud. "izzy~" you whined, feeling the coil in your stomach begin to bend under the pressure of the brewing pleasure. you could hear the sound of skin slapping, and went to turn your head when izzy's hand stopped you, holding your head in place. "you look at me when you cum, bitch," he grunted, sending your body into a frenzy as your high approached. you bucked your hips faster against him, clit catching the ridges of his slacks with every haphazard rock. his words rang through your ears alongside the grunts from your beloved boyfriend's mouth, and you overheated, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. "good girl," deku grinned, helping you rock your hips through your high as your body slumped over him. when he was content, izuku's movements of your hips stopped, and he held you close to him as you took your time recovering.

once the heave of your chest slowed down a bit, izuku placed a chaste kiss to your forehead, but you craned your neck, whining incoherently about your lips. you needed the intimacy, even if you knew katsuki never let you kiss izuku, saying it was only meant for him. "what's this? puppy wants a kiss?" Izuku's sly eyes cut to Katsuki who crinkles his nose in disbelief, resolving on being meaner to you than had been originally planned. Izuku places a sweet, gentle kiss to your lips and you melt into his touch again, feeling the fire inside you reignite. without a second thought, katsuki had stood and scooped you out of izuku's lap, bringing you over to his chair where he'd been angrily steeping.

"you're not cumming anymore, so I hope that was worth it," katsuki groans, shoving you to your knees. "aw kacchan, come on-" 'shut up. she's my brat, and I decide when she's lost her privilege to cum'. you shiver at the idea of katsuki using your throat and leaving you high and dry. he takes his cock out of his pants, swollen pink tip oozing precum as his hand tangles in your hair. you peer up into his eyes, puppy dog like eyes of yours melting that hard exterior. "fuck" he moans, stroking himself in your face. you whine, knowing he's resolved to make you watch. "daddy~" you sniffle, realizing you crossed the line into unforgivably bad girl and he was not one to show mercy to bad girls. his hand moves quick along his member as he stares down at you, pliant and patient as your thighs rub together to create some sort of friction. "f-fuck, 'm close, you little bitch" he noticed the way the harsh name made your legs tremble when deku mentioned it, and the two men exchanged smirks as your shook from the build-up of your desperately needed release. his angry tip oozed more pre-cum as you writhed and whimpered below him, tongue lolling out of your mouth as you anticipated his release. "come here-" bakugo grunted, taking the back of your head and shoving his long, girthy shaft down your throat, the warmth sending him over the edge as he shot his seed down your throat. the harsh speed of the cum burned your throat, eliciting tears from your soft, fucked out eyes.

katsuki came down slowly, chest heaving as his gaze softened slightly as his beloved girl. "good job, puppy~" izuku whined, his own release creeping upon him as he stroked his cock to the sight before him. you held katsuki's member in your throat, leaned forward on your knees enough for izuku to see your glistening, soaked cunny. at the thought of your velvety walls, he shot ropes of cum all over his hands and fingers. katsuki pulled out of your mouth with a pop, a languid whine leaving your lips at the loss. katsuki grinned at his silly girl, gesturing over to deku. "go clean up izzy's fingers, and kiss him. make him taste himself, puppy," bakugo commanded, a blush rising to your cheeks as you crawled over to izzy. Izuku pressed his fingers into your mouth, drooling pooling and slipping out as he depressed your tongue. once you collected his seed, you leaned forward to plant your lips chastely. deku moaned against your lips, deepening the kiss to swirl his tongue throughout your mouth, definitely catching katsuki's residual seed in his mouth before pulling away with a string of spit. "even my cum tastes better than yours, kacchan" izuku smirks at him, and katsuki furrows his brows at him, sliding his trousers off entirely. "give me twenty minutes, i'll send my puppy over to you with a fresher load to taste, cum eater." izuku blushes at the thought, shaking his head as he pets your hair softly.

[oitommothetease]

Invisible String (11/?)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2.3k words

Warning : fluff, angst, shitty Steve, Don’t ask me why I make Steve so unlikable in every thing  I write( PS I’m still mad at endgame Steve), mention of sex

If someone had told you that you would wake up snuggled to your boss — naked — you would have told them to fuck off and leave you alone. Not that the idea of James in your bed was repulsive, no, it was actually quite the opposite. You wanted him so much that it scared you because he — well, he was so gorgeous, and you were you. And he even looked better lying in your bed while the sunlight peaked onto his face from the window, making his stubble and hair appear golden-ish. Even as hard his exterior was, everything about him, mostly sleeping in your bed, appeared soft. 

“You know, watching people while they sleep is kinda creepy,” James said, his voice gruff from sleep and you felt heat rushing through your body. God, his morning voice was so hot. It took a second for your brain to register his words and when it did, you moved your gaze away from him.

“You’re beautiful,” you blurted out. You could feel him rumbling as he rubbed his still sleep-dazed eyes.

He gently lifted his hand to place it on your face, caressing your cheek softly with his knuckles as he said, “You are beautiful."

You jokingly rolled your eyes and shifted your face slightly to plant a kiss on the inside of his palm. “Don’t you have a club to run?” 

“The club can wait,” Bucky’s hand trailed off from your face to your waist and he flipped you, situating you on his lap and kissed you lazily while his hands roamed around your body. 

***

Bucky felt like he was dreaming, he felt as if any moment you’ll slip out of his grasp and he would have to wake up. This was too good to be true, you were too good to be true. After an incredible morning, which included him pounding into you in your bed and then on the kitchen worktop and then in the shower. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself, he needed to touch you — feel you — make sure you were here with him safe. 

It wasn’t just sex, it was so intimate that it felt so much more. The time when he wasn’t buried inside you, you’d talk about everything. He told you that when he was a kid, he loved baking. His mom worked, so he spent most of his time helping his sister with her new hobby. Rebecca soon grew out of it, but Bucky didn’t. He told you he’d love to open a bakery in a foreign country.

“You know, we can go to Europe,” you suggested. “You can open a bakery and maybe some chocolate whiff is all I need to break out from my writing slump.”

Bucky’s heart ached at your confession, he was delighted to know that he wasn’t the only one that was fantasizing about a future with you. He had never told his ambitions to anyone, mainly because when he did tell someone, they laughed at him. His career and exterior did not match his dreams, and soon those dreams died. But you made him desire that peaceful life. He wanted peace and tranquility in his life with you. Maybe tomorrow he would wake up and realize that this was some dream, and he was alone in his apartment and not in your bed. 

“Have you thought of a name yet?” you asked, “For the bakery.”

“Did you recall that song you were humming?”

 “No,” you said, “But I’m sure it will make a great bakery name.”

You curled up into his chest, you were almost asleep. He kissed the top of your head, refusing to succumb to sleep, holding you tightly so that even if this was an elaborate fantasy that his mind had conjured, he was adamant to still make the most of it.

***

After leaving your house to get ready for work, that's when he finally realized that this was real. You were his, and he was yours in a sense that no amount of words could comprehend. You hadn’t put any official labels on your relationship, but the way you moaned his name and breathlessly whispered, “I’m yours. All yours.” multiple times in his ears was enough.

Bucky hated when people called him James, it reminded him of his father, but the way you said his name with adoration filled in your eyes and tone made him content. You made him feel content and happy with everything you did without even realizing it. Bucky hoped he could do the same for you — make you feel at peace.

“I’ve been calling you since morning,” Steve commented the moment Bucky entered his office. He eyed the group of people — Steve, Sam, Clint, Pietro, Wanda, and Peter in his office before exhaling. Although Bucky was their boss, that didn't deter them from treating him like the friend he was. He didn’t mind that either, these people gave him a sense of belonging — a family, and he would give his life for them just like they would for him.

“I was asleep,” Bucky lied. And of course, his friends didn’t buy it.

“I came by your place this morning. You weren't there sleeping,” Steve retorted. He didn’t like how his best friend who he saw as a brother was hiding things from him. 

Fuck, Bucky thought. Admittedly, he wasn't at his place, he was at yours. He didn’t know what to say when six sets of eyes were looking at him expectantly. He couldn’t tell the truth, he wasn't a kiss-and-tell kind of guy. He wanted to avoid telling because you met these people every day, and it would become awkward for you; but mostly he didn’t want anyone to find out because it was so new for him that he was scared to even mention your relationship, terrified of jinxing it. 

Just when he was about to muster up an excuse, a soft knock on his office door snapped everyone’s attention towards the entrance. Bucky’s relief was short-lived the moment he realized it couldn’t be anyone except you. Now everyone was looking at Bucky impatiently, waiting for him to respond. 

If it were anyone else Bucky would have asked them to go away, but it was you. You were knocking at his door. He wanted to see you, see the marks hidden behind the concealer or collar when he sucked your neck a little too hard the previous night and this morning. Mainly, he wanted to see you.

“Come in,” He said, ignoring the stares his friends were giving him. His breath hitched at your sight, you were really breathtaking. You weren't looking at him or anyone in the room. No, you were holding two coffees and a bag of donuts in your hand. Your eyes were focused and you were looking inside the bag, searching for a dish to put his donut in, when you said, “I knew you'd skip breakfast after you left this morning. I brought you -” 

“Y/N,” Wanda cut you off.

Bucky internally thanked Wanda because he didn’t have it in him to stop you from speaking.  And that’s when you finally looked up and were met with seven people staring at you. Sam, Wanda, and Pietro were looking at you with a smirk on their face. Peter looked down at his feet. Clint was clueless and confused. Steve wasn’t looking at you, he was staring at his best pal who lied to him about his whereabouts. And Bucky’s eyes were fixed on you and when yours landed on his, he smiled at you and shook his head, telling you that he got you.

“What are you doing here, Y/N? Your shift doesn’t start till night,” Pietro informed, he was clearly teasing you. And soon a sense of understanding came to Clint’s senses when he joined the dots and his eyes widened before a smirk formed on his lips.

“I… I,” you stuttered. Your brain couldn't come up with an excuse this quickly. Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but you raised your hands and the packet of donuts with it and excitedly said, “I brought doughnuts!”

“Thank you!” Bucky exclaimed, swiftly walking towards you, taking the donuts from your hand, and placing it on the table. He draped his arm around your waist before leading you outside his office. His friends knew now, he wasn’t going to tone down the PDA in front of them. He just didn't want you to feel awkward or under anyone's subjection.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” you started once you were away from everyone. “I wouldn’t have if I knew -”

Bucky’s lips landed on yours, stopping your rambling. His arms snaked around your waist, pushing you flush against his chest, and you wrapped your hands around his neck. “It wasn’t your fault,” he mumbled adjacent to your lips and you sighed in relief.

“I just wanted to bring you breakfast since we couldn’t have it,” you pouted, flusteredly thinking about the morning activities that stopped you from having breakfast.

Bucky beamed down at you and planted another soft kiss on your lips. “How about I make it up to you at lunch,” he suggested, “I'll bake something for you too.”

You nodded excitedly and were about to leave when Bucky gently took your wrist in his hand. “Doll, text me when you reach home, yeah?”

***

Bucky dreaded going back into his office, he knew he would be bombarded with questions and knowing smirks. He decided to rip off the band and entered the office. “Okay, go for it, ask away.”

“How long has this been going on?” Steve was the first one to question.

“I mean, officially since last night.”

Sam was about to drop a snarky comment when Pietro chimed in. “Who asked who out?” 

“I asked her out,” Bucky answered, and was bewildered. “Why is that important?” 

“I knew it!” Wanda cheered and raised her hand, palms up, towards the blond. “Pay up,” Pietro grumbled before handling her sister 20 dollars.

“You guys bet on us?” Bucky asked and was met with amused snickers from everyone except Steve. Peter stepped forwards before saying, “I had no part in this, Mr. Barnes.”

The twins rolled their eyes before Steve interjected another one of Sam’s almost snippy comments. “She is the reason you attacked Rumlow, isn't she?”

Sam raised his hands in frustration and turned towards his husband. “Come on, babe. You just had to ruin the fun.”

Bucky exhaled and answered honestly, “Yes, but I can’t tell you why. You just have to take my word for it and trust me that he deserved it.”

“Buck, I’m not saying I don’t trust you, but you have to understand where my fear is coming from,” Steve said, “I know Rumlow and I know he's planning something big. We have to be careful. You can't be distracted by this girl, pal.”

Bucky was furious. He did not expect his best bud to say that. Steve knew how much Bucky pinned for you, he knew how much Bucky wanted you. How could he just say that about you after knowing all of this? “That’s rich coming from you after you told me to be happy.”

Bucky huffed in disbelief, his voice filled with venom. “Well, guess what, pal? She makes me happy.”

Nobody dared to intervene between the childhood friends. Everyone knew that Steve was saying stupid shit out of concern, but Bucky couldn’t see it. Bucky would fight anyone for you, even his best pal.

“You attacked our enemy because of this girl that you’ve been with since what — a day?” Steve scoffed sarcastically, and Bucky’s breath was drawn and his fists balled.

“I attacked him because he-” Bucky cursed himself and inhaled sharply. He couldn’t do this to you, it wasn't his decision to tell. You had decided that nobody would find out about what Rumlow did to you, not even cops, and Bucky respected your decision. He wouldn’t do this to you, especially not out of anger and in front of multiple people you didn't even know.

Before Steve could say something, Bucky’s phone vibrated on the table. A text, Bucky assumed it was you, informing him that you had reached home. You — thinking about you made him take a breath and calmed him a bit. He decided he would text you in the privacy of his office, after his friends would leave. He would text you back or better call you when he wasn’t fuming with rage at his best friend, then he would take you out on a lunch date. 

Bucky was about to reach for his phone when Clint finally spoke up, “Steve, we will be careful, okay? We will contact our sources and find out about Rumlow’s plan.”

All the heads present in the office accepted this decision. Sam scolded Steve and Bucky and made them hug out their issues like kindergarteners. Peter offered to make a drink and everyone made their way downstairs towards the bar, leaving the office and Bucky’s phone unattended.

What Bucky didn’t know was that Rumlow’s plan was already in action, in reality, he had even succeeded in his plan.

If Bucky had checked his phone, then he would have realized it wasn't a text from you, instead, it was a text from an unknown number with an attached photo. The picture was of you tied to a chair, your eyes half-lidded with drugs and tears, and a bruise forming on your left cheek.

TAGS :  @bananapipedreams @akkinda10 @rivers-rambles21​ @emmabarnes @valsworldofcreativity @boofy1998 @marvel-3407 @mybuck @priii @coffeebooksandfandom @ladydmalfoy @shaking-a-jar-of-bees @elizamalfoyy

[doubleleoenergy]

V. Off to the Races, Lolita Series

My old man is a tough man, but he got a soul as sweet as blood-red jam. And he shows me, he knows me. Every inch of my tar-black soul.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: bestfriendsdad!Andy Barber x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mentions of alcohol, mentions of relationship violence, rape, and murder, pet names, passionate sex,

Words: 4025 (I am SO sorry for this)

Summary: Andy takes y/n on a weekend getaway while Jacob and his friends are out of town.

Two weeks had dragged on since Andy had gotten a taste of y/n’s sweet nectar, and since then nothing. It wasn’t like they really had the chance to be alone, Jacob and the other boys weren’t going out late at night or on the weekends as they usually did. Andy had to settle for his hand every night, reminiscing on their oral escapades.

It didn’t help that Andy had been swamped with cases, court appearances, and tons of paperwork. He had spent every night of those two weeks at the office until his eyes physically couldn’t stare at the cases in front of him anymore. Andy even showed up on the weekend to fit in a little extra work, hoping it would help take care of some of the load but to no avail. He was completely and thoroughly exhausted, and he could tell that y/n was as well.

She had worked directly with him on a few late-night cases, the rest of the time being spent shadowing Neal fucking Loguidice. It was great for her internship to do so, getting new perspectives of different attorneys in the office, but it was not as good for his jealousy.

By Thursday evening the heavy load of cases and paperwork had seemed to disappear, and Andy was grateful for being able to leave the office at a decent hour. With y/n in tow, he ducked into his Audi, waiting for y/n to get comfortable in the passenger seat before roaring the vehicle to life.

“Is it just me, or have these past two weeks been exhausting?” He asked, glancing out of the corner of his eyes at y/n as he drove. Andy knew her answer before she even opened her mouth, a loud groan leaving her lips as she rested her head back against the seat.

“You’re telling me, if I have to hear Neal mention one more time about his new kickboxing class, I’m going to gouge my eyes out. He really fucking sucks.” Her words elicit a chuckle from Andy’s lips, a smile of pride seeping onto his face. It was good to know she didn’t have any interest in Neal.

“We should do something fun this weekend, just the two of us. Maybe you’ll let me finally take you on a date” He suggested, lulling his car to a stop at the next red light. Y/N raised an eyebrow in his direction, cocking her head to the side. “Andy, I already told you, I don’t do relationships.”

Andy rolled his eyes, shifting in his seat to look at her. “Yeah, you said that, but I’m in it for the long game, y/n. You have to admit there’s something between us.”

“Andy…” She sighs, watching the sun setting out the passenger window. Sure, there was definitely something between him. Was he different from all the other guys before that she had hooked up with? Yes, of course. First off, she had never been with a man his age, someone with a career, a house, and a car of his own. He even had a pension and a life insurance policy; she hadn’t hooked up with any men who had those.

The car is silent as they pull into the garage, Andy immediately shutting off the car and sitting back in his seat. Y/N looked down at her lap awkwardly, reaching for the door but Andy stopped her with a tug to her wrist, getting her to look up at him.

“You want to be an attorney, right?” The question has her furrowing her brows, looking at him as if he had said ‘You know the sky is blue, right?’

“Of course, you know that, but what does that have to do with-” Andy cuts her off by holding up his index finger, loosening his grip on her wrist. “Attorneys defend their cases in court to a judge or jury, who then ultimately decide the fate of their clients. Their job is to convince someone that their claim is right.” Andy rests one hand on the steering wheel, a smug smirk crossing his lips.

“Saturday morning we’ll leave for a weekend getaway, planned by yours truly. This will all be part of my case as to why we should be together, no more games, officially together. You as the judge will examine the weekend's evidence and conclude on whether we should be together. If you decide after the weekend that you don’t think so, I’ll leave it alone and we won’t have to discuss it ever again. But I’m hoping for it to change your mind.” Before she can protest, Andy holds his hand up. “And I’ll even get us a room with two beds, no funny business, promise. So...will you hear my case out?”

Y/N had to admit, she had never been chased by a guy so ferociously, but what was the harm in seeing the evidence and getting a free weekend vacation out of it? She stuck her hand out for him to shake, a professional gesture for their arrangement. “Alright, I will gladly hear your case out.”

Andy had arranged it all down to the last detail, including lying to Jacob and the boys about an important conference for work that they both had to attend that weekend. Of course, he didn’t suspect a thing, he went out of town for conferences all the time, and thus his plan was set.

When Saturday morning finally arrived, Andy was feeling great. He had gone for an early morning jog, took a long shower, and even trimmed his hair and beard. Andy dressed in a plain white t-shirt and dark denim jeans, packing his bag with his essentials for the evening before walking out into the kitchen. As usual, the boys were all still asleep, hungover from their late-night game of shot roulette, which left the house extremely quiet.

Andy couldn’t help the smile creeping onto his face as he walked into the kitchen and saw y/n waiting at the counter, a familiar plate of breakfast and coffee next to her. “It’s a Saturday, you know that right? Thought breakfast was for workdays.” He stated, moving to sit at his usual spot beside her.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” She responded, taking a swig from her coffee mug. Andy’s eyes wandered along her body; her outfit of the day effortlessly beautiful. She wore a tight white bodysuit tucked into a pair of figure-hugging mint shorts; a pair of matching wedges slipped onto her dainty feet to complete the look.

“You’re right, it is.” Andy’s silverware moved to cut into his meal, chewing thoughtfully as he thought about the day ahead. “You’d think that by making me breakfast you were trying to plead your own case.” He teased, engulfing another bite of his food.

Y/N rolled her eyes at him, moving to set her now empty coffee mug in the sink. “I’ve got nothing to plead, you on the other hand, do.” She waits with her back to the counter, playing on her phone until he finishes his meal, setting his plate in the sink behind her.

“Are you ready to go?” He questioned, grabbing his duffel bag off the floor. Y/N followed suit, grabbing her tiny black suitcase and following him out into the garage. Andy grabbed the suitcase from her, setting it with his own bag in the trunk before they both got into the car, backing slowly out of the driveway.

It was a beautiful day out, the sun was shining, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” Y/N asks, crossing her legs.

“Would it matter? You’re not familiar with the state anyhow.” He retorted, pulling up the address on his GPS as they started on their journey.

“True, I just want to know what I’m getting into.” Her eyes locked on the GPS, noticing the destination was an hour away. “Rockport? What’s in Rockport?” She asked, raising a shapely brow in Andy’s direction.

“Well for starters, it’s along the ocean, which guarantees a good view. It also has great shopping, beaches, and restaurants. It’s a nice little getaway.” Andy turns on the radio as the car goes silent, y/n admiring the view as they drive.

The silence in the car was comfortable, both of them enjoying each other’s company, and before they knew it, they had arrived at their home for the weekend. They were staying at the Cove at Rockport, a beautiful inn right along the ocean. It was even more classy than the photos online, and Andy made quick working of getting them checked into their room.

Andy and y/n walked together down the long hallway to their room, room one on the first floor. Unlocking the door with the key provided, Andy pushed it open, allowing y/n to step in and take in their living arrangements.

The main room was huge, donning a cute little breakfast nook adjacent to the kitchen, a living room, two separate bedrooms, and a bathroom. The decor was all beach themed, of course, shades of blues and beiges filling their sights.

“This definitely deserves a point towards your case.” Y/N admitted, chewing on her bottom lip. It was honestly the nicest place she’d ever stayed at, more luxurious than what she had expected. Walking further into the space, y/n pushed open the sliding door, the sound of waves hitting the shore bursting through her ears as she took in the view. It truly was gorgeous, much different from shitty life in Ohio.

“So, I did alright with my first piece of evidence?” He chortled, leaning back against the cool wall. Y/N continues to take in the view outside, a light breeze picking up and blowing her hair off her shoulders.

“I’d say so.” She shuts the sliding doors and walks back to investigate the sleeping spaces, setting her bags in the room with a large picture of a beach umbrella over the bed, the smaller of the two. “Well, what else do you have planned for your case? Because if this is it, I can come to a decision right away.”

Andy moved his own bag into the opposite room before walking into y/n’s and sitting down on the plush comforter. “I wanted to start the trip with a walk downtown, explore some of the shops before we get ready for our dinner reservations at six.”

Ah, he even sprung for reservations, what a smart man. “Sounds good, let’s explore.” Y/N got up from the bed, grabbing her purse before Andy followed her out, walking out of their room towards the lobby.

Downtown was only about a five-minute walk from the inn, an enjoyable stroll filled with laughter from a group of teens on the sidewalk, birds chirping in the trees, and the smell of fresh muffins wafting from the window of a bakery on the street. “Well, where should we look first?” He asked, turning to look at y/n for guidance on where she’d like to go.

They had spent about two full hours downtown, walking in and out of all the little shops, picking up a blueberry donut to share from one of the bakeries, and taking photos of each other along the Rockport streets. Most of the photos Andy took of y/n were very Instagram appropriate photos, staring down the camera and moving from angle to angle. On a few photos though, Andy would say something to make her laugh, snapping away at her genuine reaction.

Before long they were walking back into the room to get ready for their dinner reservations. Andy was pulling out all the stops, dressing up in one of his nicest black suits, a matching black tie situated atop a crisp white button down. He spritzed on some of his favorite Versace Eros cologne, adjusting the laces of his dress shoes before walking out into the living room. Andy had ordered a dozen red roses to be delivered to the suite, arriving shortly after he had finished getting ready, sitting on the couch with the flowers and waiting for y/n to walk out. God, he hoped this wasn’t too cheesy.

After about five minutes of waiting anxiously, the door to y/n’s room opened, noticing her delicate silver peep toe heels first. His eyes roamed up her toned and tanned legs, settling on her baby blue dress, off the shoulder with slightly puffy sleeves, a tie in the front revealing just a bit of cleavage. The ruffles on the hem swayed as she moved, her eyes taking in the sight of him as well with the flowers.

Suddenly Andy stood up, holding out the flowers to her. “You look incredible, Lolita.” There went the pet name again, though it was always so fitting for her. “Shall we go?” Y/N silently thanked him for the flowers, taking a whiff of their sweet aroma before setting them down on the counter near the door. She followed Andy to his car, waving him off when he tried to open her door for her. Her expression stayed on Andy the entire drive, inhaling his intoxicating cologne, licking her lips. Y/N had to admit, he always looked great in a suit.

The restaurant was only a ten-minute drive from the inn, a little classy seafood restaurant along the ocean coast. It was packed with people, a quartet playing Sinatra’s finest hits off in the far-right corner of the room. Some people were dancing, some were sitting along the bar against the left wall, while most were diners enjoying their meals at their table.

Y/N and Andy were led to a table near the back wall facing the ocean view. Andy started off by ordering a bottle of chardonnay for the table, taking in the sight of y/n lit up by the candlelight provided.

“This is beautiful, Andy.” She exclaimed, her eyes scanning the room and all the happy couples around them. Andy smiled before opening his menu, mulling over what to order. “I told you, I’m great at pleading my case. And as you know, I almost always win.” Y/N rolled her eyes, opening her own menu. “Key word, almost.”

After deciding on what to eat, Andy getting the seafood gnocchi and y/n ordering the lobster bisque, Andy poured them each a glass of wine, holding his up towards hers. “Cheers to an unforgettable night.” He exclaimed, clinking their glasses together before they each took a sip of their respective glasses.

As they wait for their food, Andy and y/n sit and talk more about their likes and dislikes, what they want in the future, and the day they had downtown. Their food arrives during the conversation and they continue to talk while they indulge in their meals, all the food just as incredible as the atmosphere.

About thirty minutes later Andy and y/n take in their last bites of food, sitting back and enjoying the liveliness around them. As they waited for their check to arrive, the sound of Sinatra’s hit ‘It Had to Be You’ started drifting from the quartet. Andy smiles, holding out his hand towards y/n as he stares down at her. “Dance with me?” He asks, taking in her surprised expression before she scoots herself out of her seat, grabbing his hand as he led her over to where the other couples were dancing. Andy places his hands on the small of her back, y/n wrapping her own around his neck as they sway to the tune.

“This is definitely not as good as dancing together at the club.” She joked, making Andy laugh. “Well, technically I wouldn’t call that dancing. More like...gyrating, or maybe dry humping? Definitely not the same.” Her smile brightened; his eyes locked on her as they moved. It was as if they were the only people there, like the whole world stopped to see them dance.

“For nobody else gave me a thrill. With all your faults, I love you still. It had to be you...Wonderful you...It had to be you…” The quartet crooned, the song ending and a few of the couples clapping in response. Andy’s eyes bore into y/n’s, licking his lips before leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to her lips, holding it for a moment before y/n pulled away, clearing her throat and letting go of his neck.

“M’sure the bill is on the table.” She stated, walking back towards their chairs. Andy let out a huff of disappointment, following her over to the table and paying for their meal before they walked in silence back to their car.

The car ride felt riddled with tension, the tension continuing to build as they got back to the room. “We need to talk, y/n.” He admitted as the door of their suite shut behind them, crossing his arms against his broad chest. Y/N leaned her weight against the wall between their bedrooms, tilting her head up to look at him.

“Andy…” She started, becoming silent again and chewing on her bottom lip. Andy’s stance becomes more tense, taking a step closer to her. “I want you, y/n. And not because of how mind-blowingly attractive you are. You are intelligent, thoughtful, and selfless. You’re not stuck up or fussy about material items. You make me feel like I’m in my twenties again, you make me feel like I’ve never felt with another woman.”

He takes another step closer to her, hovering above her due to his height. She puts her hands on his chest to stop him from moving, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“I’m terrified of this, Andy. How do I know you won’t turn out just like my piece of shit father, huh?” She leans her body weight against the wall, peering up at him.

“Look, I know how you feel, alright?” He moves away from her again, his back turned towards her as his hand ruffles through his hair. “I know firsthand, my father...he’s also in prison. He went to prison when I was young for raping and murdering a 19-year old woman. I vowed to myself to never ever treat a woman without kindness and respect. Though my marriage with Laurie wasn’t perfect, I’m sure she’d say that I was nothing like my father, and nothing like yours for that matter.”

He turns back to look at her, arms outstretched. “I promise I will never hurt you; you can trust me. I’m all in, y/n. And I meant everything I said.”

She processes his story of his father, realizing they had a lot more in common than she once thought. Her heart is beating so fast she thought it might splatter in her chest, closing the distance between the two quickly. Her hand came up to grip his jaw, leaning up and kissing him lovingly. They continue to kiss, y/n parting her lips to allow Andy’s tongue to slip inside, exploring her mouth and causing her to moan. After a moment they both pull away breathless, her hands playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Okay...I’m all in too, with you.” Her words are all Andy had been wanting to hear, gripping her waist and kissing her lustfully this time, pushing them backwards until they both hit the wall again with a groan. His lips trailed a line of kisses down her neck and along her collarbone, shrugging off his suit jacket and making quick work at the buttons on his shirt, practically ripping the buttons off completely.

Y/N is tilting her head back against the wall, helping to push off his now open shirt to expose his God-like torso. This was her first time seeing his chest, running her cool fingers against his abs as he kissed back up her neck and into her mouth.

He plays with the fabric on sleeves of her dress, pushing them down so that she can fully shimmy out of the pale blue fabric. Her breasts are on full display, no bra to pull down, and Andy growled at the sight of them. They were just as perky as they had been while peeking through her outfits.

He nudged her body in the direction of his bed, hands making quick work of his belt and pulling down his trousers, kicking them into a pile as he walked into the bedroom after her in only his Calvin Klein briefs. Andy moved forward to kiss her again, knocking them both over onto the bed, a breathy laugh escaping her throat. 

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful, my little Lolia.” He purred, his hands coming up between them to knead over her delectable breasts. Y/N cried out from the touch, grinding her hips up into Andy’s to evoke a similar noise from him. “Andy, need you…” She whined, her back arching off the bed, her panties rolling against his clearly clothed hard cock.

He slipped his hands lower, teasing his fingertips along her folds, already slick with her desire. “Need what, Lolita? Need you to tell me exactly what you want.” Her hands rub his cock through the thin fabric, a whine of impatience leaving her lips. 

“Need you inside me, Andy. Please, fuck my pussy.” Her words ignite an animalistic groan from his lips, pulling off her and scooting her up further onto the bed until her head touched the pillows. He quickly tugged off his boxers, stepping out of them before shimmying her out of her panties, tossing them aside.

His eyes grew dark as he took in her naked form in front of him, stroking his cock. She really was the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and she was all his. Andy moved onto the bed, hovering over y/n with his cock dragging against her glistening folds. He was bigger than the guys she’d been with before, and the thought alone excited and terrified her. Her fingers land on the skin of his shoulder blades, pressing in lightly as she locks eyes with him.

“Andy, please.” She begs again. Andy keeps his eyes on hers as he pushes in slowly, giving her time to adjust as he moves inch by inch into her cunt. Her nails dig a bit deeper into his skin, mewling as he continues to press into her until he finally bottoms out, holding himself in place. 

“God, my little Lolita, you’re so fucking tight...you’re milking my cock and I haven’t even moved yet. Do you want me to move?” He leant down and pressed a passionate kiss to her lips, waiting for her mumbled ‘mhm’ against him before he rolled his hips into hers.

The pace started slowly, building up speed with every little noise y/n’s mouth made, coming undone underneath him with each thrust. They continued to share soft kisses, moaning into each other’s mouths, y/n’s hands locking around his neck.

“Andy.” She breathed, her walls tightening and releasing around him. “Wanna cum for you.”

Andy quickened his pace, kissing along her pulse point on her neck. “Cum for me, Lolita. Want to feel you cum on my cock.” It doesn’t take her long after his sentence before she’s tightening her walls again, crying out as her orgasm rips through her. Her eyesight is full of stars, and it takes a second for her to regain her vision, focusing on Andy’s face once she does.

“M’gonna cum in this pretty cunt, fill you up to the brim.” He states, thrusting a few more times before coating her walls with his release. He stills inside of her for a moment before pulling out slowly and plopping down with his back on the bed next to her.

They both lie in silence, staring up at the ceiling, panting. The sex was incredible, better than they both could’ve imagined. Andy’s arm wraps loosely around y/n’s shoulder, tugging her into his chest and pressing a loving kiss to her forehead.

“You’re mine now, it’s official.” He looked down at her with a lazy smile, watching as her fingers began to trail up and down his chest. “Guess you could say I won yet another case.”

“Shut up, Andy.”

Tagging those who may be interested. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list: @my-divine-death @blackwiddows @sokovianheadtilt @fuckandfluff @rattlemyb0nes @rootcrop @turtoix @sylvielaufeydottirr @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @ccmarvelxx @rebelemilu @tenaciousperfectionunknown @agentofbarnes @serendipityrogers

[the-bau-quinjet]

The Perks of Cold Weather

Hello! This is just a whole lot of fluff because I need some positive vibes this week. Feel free to send some requests my way if you’d like! They can be as specific or as vague as you want and I’ll do my best. None of my ideas are currently working for me.

Summary: Reader and Spencer have some fun in the snow in a small town in Alaska.

Words: 2996

Warnings: none I think

When you first started at the BAU, you were quick to realize the group was more like a family than coworkers. It was clear in the little things they did for each other on case, like the way JJ and Spencer would comfort each other on particularly difficult cases to the slight bickering that would inevitably start up between Derek and Emily about anything that didn’t really matter.

 You were quick to find your place in the little family as well. Well, not find it so much as fall into it, but you didn’t mind. You were only 28 years old, meaning you were the youngest member of the BAU. Being the youngest meant a lot of teasing from the “older sibling” personalities of everyone except Rossi and Hotch. Their personalities were much more parent-esque. With how much they’d tease you, you were always quick to jump on the chance to tease them for a change. The perfect opportunity arose when a case came up in Alaska.

Penelope walked through the bullpen, calling you all into the roundtable room right before you left for the day. “Hello my wonderful crime fighters. I wish I had better news, but this case is a real whammy. Three women have been found stabbed to death in a small town in Alaska.”

 The collective groans of just about everyone in the room were quiet, but obvious.

 “I know, I know. Another freezing cold case. I wish I could send you to LA all the time, but alas bad guys aren’t deterred by freezing temperatures.” She went on to explain the details of the case before Hotch dismissed everyone with his typical “Wheels up in 30.”

 The team dispersed to collect their go bags- and winter items for the cold weather they would surely be facing in Alaska- before meeting on the jet. When you got there, everyone else was already boarded, and you couldn’t help but feel the low energy of everyone on the plane.

 “Don’t tell me the lot of you are afraid of a little snow?” You can’t stop the smirk from appearing on your face as you sit down across from Spencer and adjacent to Emily, Derek, and JJ.

 “Big words from someone who hasn’t been on a case in Alaska yet.” Derek’s reply comes without hesitation. The grin on your face only grows when you realize that everyone really is feeling low because of the impending winter wonderland.

 “Don’t tell me you’re excited for the cold weather?” JJ shivers just asking the question.

 “Of course I am! I’ve always loved the cold. There’s something so magical about watching snow fall. It feels like Christmas!” The four of them stare at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You are seriously telling me none of you like the snow?” You scan all of their faces in disbelief, eyes landing on Spencer last.

 “Don’t look at me. I’m from Nevada, it’s basically the desert. Winter in Las Vegas is comparable to fall in DC. The last time it snowed with any significance was in 2003 and that was only an inch.” Spencer nearly starts rambling about weather patterns across the US, but cuts himself off.

 “You all are seriously killing my good mood with your bad vibes. I will change at least one of your minds by the end of this case” You say in a huff while putting your headphones on. You try to catch up on some sleep before you all reconvene to discuss the case.

 After the briefing and right before landing, everyone starts bundling up in layers upon layers of sweatshirts, jackets, coats, gloves, scarves, and hats. You pull a sweater on over your long sleeve and zip up your FBI jacket, adding a cute beanie more for aesthetics than warmth. You’ve never been one to get overly cold, so you skip a few layers everyone else put on.

 The rest of the team marches off the jet as if they would rather be anywhere else, but you don’t let it deter you. You exit the jet with a smile on your face, taking a deep breath of the cool Alaskan air.

 “You really are enjoying yourself?” Spencer asks with a small smile. You meet his eye, the look on his face giving you butterflies, before responding.

 “Of course I am. It smells like winter!” The two of you share a laugh as you get in the SUV headed to the police precinct to actually get to work.

 --

 The case only lasted two days. You were glad to have solved it so quickly, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t going to miss the snow. After the case files are all packed away and Hotch goes off to coordinate the jet, you head outside to absorb every last ounce of winter possible.

 “I thought I might find you out here.” Spencer sits next to you on the bench as you stare at the flakes falling from the sky.

 “What can I say, I just really love the cold.” You reply without turning your head. “Maybe it’s weird, but I would pick cold over hot any day.”

 “I don’t think it’s weird at all! I think it’s kind of cute actually.” That gets your attention and you turn to see he’s looking at his hands in his lap, fiddling with his thumbs. “I like how happy you are when you look at the snow.”

 Of course, that makes you smile again. “Thank you, Spence.” You can feel your cheeks heating up, but you’re quickly distracted by the sound of Derek calling the two of you back into the station.

 “Hey lovebirds, Hotch needs us.” You roll your eyes at Derek before standing up, offering your hand to Spencer to help him up. He takes your hand, squeezing it slightly as he rises from the bench. He only drops your hand when he goes to hold the door open for you, leading you back inside. The team gathers in the conference room, Hotch walking in with a grim expression.

 “I’ll cut to the chase. We won’t be able to fly home until this evening. The snow from last night on top of the storm that’s about to pass through is too much to clear right now.” Everyone, including you, sighs before nodding in understanding. As much as you would love to stay longer, you know it sucks that everyone can’t go home to their families. “This case is wrapped up, so feel free to just explore the town or relax in the hotel. We should be able to take off at 9:00 pm, so I expect to see all of you on the jet by 8:45.” Those words were music to your ears. As everyone begins to pack up to head out, you turn to Spencer.

 “I can’t believe this. It’s like a snow day! I’ve always loved snow days! We would always go outside, have a snowball fight, build a snowman, and try to build an igloo but end up giving up when it collapsed for the third time.” He chuckles at your enthusiasm, but nods along as you both walk out of the precinct toward the hotel just down the street. “Then we’d go in for lunch, make hot chocolate and cookies, and watch all our favorite movies.”

 “Is that what you want to do today?” Spencer asks as you both walk into the hotel lobby.

 “I mean, in a perfect world, yeah. That is exactly what I would want to do today.” You smile wistfully as you think back to your childhood snow days with your siblings.

 “Well then, let’s see how perfect we can make the world, just for today.” Spencer’s smiling as he says it, taking in the confusion and shock on your face.

 “You mean… You want to build a snowman? With me?” Your heart is beating so forcefully, you wouldn’t be surprised if it flew right out of your chest.

 “Yeah, and all the other things too.” Spencer’s words are soft and unsure, contrasting the confidence of his previous statement.

 “But you don’t like the cold weather…” You simply can’t fathom why he would volunteer to do these cold weather activities when just two days ago he was talking about how little snow he experienced when he was younger.

 “But you do, and we’re stuck here anyway. So, why not?” Hearing that he would spend his day off playing in the snow simply because you want to does things to you that you chose to ignore for the time being.

 “O- okay… yeah, let’s do it! ” The two of you smile at each other for a few seconds before you each bring your things to you respective rooms with a plan to meet in the lobby in fifteen minutes.

 When you get to your room you pull out the warmest clothes you brought to Alaska. Although it would suffice for walking down the street, it’s not exactly made for playing in the snow. After getting dressed you meet Spencer in the lobby. He is dressed in warmer clothes than you, but still not snow proof.

 “I don’t know if this is a good idea…” Your excitement to start this day with Spencer has dwindled since imaging the cold, wet clothes you’d end up in. “The key to a good snow day is waterproof clothes and we definitely don’t have any. How am I going to make you like snow if you’re freezing and wet at the end of the day?” You would expect the resident genius to agree with you, but instead of a grim expression and a nod in agreement, Spencer’s smile grows.

 “Don’t worry about it. Just come with me.” He leads you outside of the hotel with his hand on the small of your back all the way down to the town store. “What needs to be waterproof? We can find snow pants, jackets, gloves, and boots right here.” He looks so pleased with himself as he leads you around the store to collect all the items you’ll need. He even picks out a sled for the two of you.

 After checking out, he leads you back outside where you pull the waterproof gear on over your warm layers, tossing the tags into a nearby trash can. Before you can say anything, he is again leading you through the town with his hand on the small of your back. He stops when he reaches the park, turning to you once again.

 “Where do you want to build the snowman?” You mirror the grin on his face as you run across the park to a flatter area.

 You begin compressing the snow in your hands to form the ball that would eventually become the bottom layer of your snowman. Spencer copies your actions, forming a lopsided ball for the middle. You leave Spencer to work on the head while you search around the nearby trees for sticks to use as arms and rocks to use for the eyes and buttons.

 After finding the perfect set of sticks, you return to see Spencer adding a carrot nose right in the middle of the head.

 “I didn’t even see you buy carrots!” He laughs at your childlike enthusiasm, moving aside so you can add the sticks to the middle. You also add the rocks you gathered for the eyes and buttons. Spencer surprises you again by pulling out a hat and scarf to add the finish touches.

 After forcing him to take a selfie with you and the snowman, you walk across the park to find a good sledding hill. You find the perfect hill, and offer to go down first since it’s going to take some effort to form the path. Spencer watches you scooching your way through the snow, forcing the sled down the hill, laughing hysterically. You haven’t been able to enjoy snow like this for years.

 Spencer was hesitant to sled down the hill together, but one pout from you and he climbed on right away. The sled picked up pace is you barreled out of control, flipping and rolling down the hill.

 You took the opportunity of a distracted Spencer to form a snow ball, waiting until he was only a few feet away to throw it at him. Of course, as soon as it hits him it’s game on. The two of you are running through the park, hiding behind trees, and dodging each other’s snowballs. Spencer, being uncoordinated, mostly missed you. That is, until the very end of the snowball fight when he hits you right in the face, the surprise causing you to fall to the ground.

 “Y/N! Are you okay! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” He’s cut off by your laughter.

 “Relax Spence, its fine! It was powdery snow. It’s not like you hit me with a chunk of ice.” You smile at him as he helps you to a standing position. You’re so focused on standing up without slipping on the compressed snow beneath your feet, you don’t realize how close the two of you have become.  When you look up to meet his eyes, your noses are nearly touching.

 Without much thought for the consequences, you lean a few inches forward, ever so slightly brushing your lips against his.

 Spencer is so stunned, it takes him much longer than he’d care to admit to reciprocate your affection. So long in fact, that you’ve pulled away and are frantically trying to think of something to say to save your friendship when he pulls you back in.

 The two of you don’t pull away again until the need for air overpowers your need for each other. You stay close though, foreheads pressed together.

 “Let me take you on a date. A real one where we go into knowing it’s a date.” Spencer says it all in one breath.

 “Oh, Spence. This whole day has been a perfect date, even if we didn’t say it at first. But I would love to go on another with you.”

 The two of you are all smiles as you walk back toward the café near your hotel. You’ve been outside so long it’s nearly dark- granted it gets dark around 4:00 this time of year in Alaska. Upon entering the café, Spencer is quick to order two hot chocolates and cookies to go.

 “I know it’s not the same as baking them ourselves, but we don’t have access to an oven in the hotel.” He says, squeezing your hand before leading you out of the café.

 You would blindly follow Spencer anywhere, but that doesn’t stop you from asking him about it. “Where are we going now? I thought we were going to eat…”

 “Back to the hotel. We have one more thing to check off the list for your perfect snow day.” Of course he would remember your list from earlier in the day. “So tell me, what’s your favorite snow day movie?”

 “That’s actually a tough question. It changes depending on the mood.” You are genuinely trying to think of the perfect movie to end the perfect day as you walk back into the hotel.

 “I’ll tell you what, why don’t you go up to your room and pick out a movie that fits ‘the mood’, and I’ll meet you there in a few minutes?” You simply nod in response, too lost in thought to contemplate where he could be going.

 15 minutes later you have finally picked out a movie to watch when Spencer enters your room, carrying a takeout bag.

 “I finally found a movie!” You smile at him as you show him your computer screen. Anastasia is queued on your Disney+.

 “Perfect. We can now officially start our date.” He smiles, pulling the food out of the bag, he hands you a cup of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. Your heart warms at the sight of it. You know Spencer has an eidetic memory, but you still get butterflies at the idea of him remembering your favorite cold weather food.

 The two of you sit against the headboard, setting the computer between you to play the movie. After you’ve finished eating you shuffle around on the bed, moving the laptop so you could cuddle with Spencer.

 “I’ve got another reason for you to like the cold weather.” You state matter-of-factly, eyes still trained on the movie.

 “Yeah? What is it?” Spencer’s eyes are trained on your face.

 “It’s better for cuddling.” A small grin appears on your face at the sound of Spencer’s airy laugh. He pulls you closer, both of you completely content.

 --

 As much as you love the cold and snow, dragging yourself out of Spencer’s arms and into the cold air to get to the jet on time was not an exciting task. In fact, it put you in a slightly sour mood, something Morgan was all too quick to pick up on.

 “What’s the matter L/N? The cold weather got you down?” He laughs at your annoyed expression.

 “Not a chance, Morgan. I quite enjoyed our little snow day actually.” You smile at Spencer as you pull your blanket from your go bag and sit on the couch.

 “You actually played in the snow? It was only 22 degrees today!” You can’t help but shake your head. 22 degrees is cold, but nothing compared to how bad it can get in Alaska.

 “We did indeed. I think I managed to turn Spencer on to the cold weather too.” Spencer sits down next to you encouraging you to share your blanket.

 “How’d you manage that? I’ve been to on enough cases with Pretty Boy here to know he prefers the warmer ones.”

 “It’s actually rather simple.” Spencer replies, shifting his arm around you on the back of the couch. You smile as you close your eyes and lean into his touch. “Colder climates make for better cuddles.”

tag list:

@mac99martin​ 

[titan-fodder]

Prima Vista Part IV

[ previous ]

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao. 

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings. 

 The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow. 

 The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway. 

 "Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!" 

 A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough. 

 "Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

 He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy." 

 "My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please." 

 "Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

 "'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice. 

 Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you." 

 You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it. 

 "Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

 "Didn't even notice," he reassures you. 

 Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen. 

 Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

 She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

 "Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later. 

 "You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

 "Uh, yeah. I could eat." 

 Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything. 

 "Sandwiches okay?" 

 Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth. 

 "Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich. 

 You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

 He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask. 

 He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days. 

 Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow. 

 After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

 It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer. 

 "It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free." 

 Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better. 

 You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie. 

 He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow. 

 "I can pick something else," he tells you quietly. 

 You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften. 

 "'S'fine."

 "Are you sure?" 

 "Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

 He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be. 

 He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies. 

 "You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

 "You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

 You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress. 

 Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep. 

 That's good. You could use a nap. 

 He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours. 

 But first. 

 As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf. 

 It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before. 

 The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses. 

 Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward. 

 They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother. 

 Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

 He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book. 

 Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

 He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole? 

 Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible. 

 It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on. 

 Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

 Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left. 

 The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album. 

 He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

 "Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album." 

 Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes. 

 "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

 You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

 But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length. 

 "Why didn't you ever tell me?" 

 "What's there to tell?" 

 Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth. 

 "It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

 Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books. 

 "Is it, though? Is it really?" 

 "I..." 

 Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language. 

 Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you. 

 It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

 At least it makes sense now. 

 "I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it. 

 You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch. 

 Then, you flop back down on your pillows. 

 "So. Any questions, Zacharias?" 

 He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

 A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

 "Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease. 

 "Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

 Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up. 

 "Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous. 

 "He left." 

 "Yeah."

 And then he gets the full story. 

 Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

 "Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

 The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom. 

 "He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick." 

 He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since. 

 "I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

 "Were you ever close with him?"

 You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

 It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

 At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him. 

 He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk. 

 "Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

 Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice. 

 Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him. 

 "I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

 Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies. 

 "Have you seen him since?" 

 You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

 Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction. 

 You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

 "Anyway," he mimics. 

 "I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

 "Is this why?" 

 "Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

 "Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know. 

 Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months. 

 "So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

 "For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

 "Mm. I guess."

 The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better. 

 Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster. 

 Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark. 

 When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest. 

 It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate. 

 You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth. 

 He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut. 

 Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer. 

 He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth. 

 Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

 Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

 He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

 So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you. 

 After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other. 

 He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now. 

 If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back. 

 He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself: 

 I love you. I love you, I love you.  

 You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day. 

 You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

 Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

 Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear. 

 Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it. 

 And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

 You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

 It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

 He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening. 

 The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

 You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail. 

 Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence. 

 Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can. 

 Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

 “Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

 He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

 “You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

 “Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

 “Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

 He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

 Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip. 

 “Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

 It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you. 

 “I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

 After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way. 

 You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done. 

 Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it. 

 Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock. 

 He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

 It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying. 

 Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

 Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger. 

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books. 

 It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice. 

 Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town. 

 It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway. 

 Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder. 

 The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!" 

 Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

 A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles. 

 "It's fine. You can calm down."

 You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused. 

 The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him. 

 "You're Zeke Jaeger."

 He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

 Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players. 

 You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face. 

 "Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

 He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

 You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself. 

 "Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

 Your stomach flips at the mention of him. 

 "We're not dating."

 Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

 "No. Just friends."

 He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain. 

 "Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try. 

 He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

 "I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

 "Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

 You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

 "I'll walk with you," he states more than offers. 

 Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.  

 But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen. 

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does. 

 Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

 These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip. 

 Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

 You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

 He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

 You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

 It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

 “You listening, sweetheart?”

 Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

 “No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

 “That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

 “It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

 Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

 You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor. 

 Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

 The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

 “Yeah, okay.”

 He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

 No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said. 

 What a fucking joke. 

*

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside. 

 “You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

 “Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

 “Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

 You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

 “Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

 He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.” 

 He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

 Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day. 

 And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

 Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

 Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece. 

 If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

 But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

 What is happening to you?

 “So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

 But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

 You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

 Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

 His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

 You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car. 

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

 Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

 You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys. 

 “I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

 “Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

 Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

 “I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

 “I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

 You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes. 

 “Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

 You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

 Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

 “Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

 “You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

 “I—”

 “It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

 Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him. 

 But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

 He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

 Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

 Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that. 

 “What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

 You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

 “Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

 “Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

 “Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.” 

 God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

 Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

 “Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

 Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

 “What?”

 “Come here.”

 Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

 More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

 “Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem. 

 “I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

 “For some reason I don’t believe that.”

 You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

 That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his. 

 He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth. 

 You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

 “Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

 The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more. 

  And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

[imaginethathaikyuu]

kinktober - day seventeen

tendou satori - overheard 

kinktober faq kinktober prompt list  

NSFW warning featuring: mutual masturbation, dubcon, tendou overhears u and decides to join the fun wink wink, very very light dom tendou/sub reader  other tags: neighbors to friends to lovers, a lot of exposition, tendou works at a bakery isn’t that cute

gender neutral reader  word count: 2745

-

Thin walls. 

Tendou had come to realize that was the reason his apartment’s rent was dirt cheap. 

He’d noticed it a year ago on the second day he moved in; his hearing was far too perceptive to not notice every creek in someone else’s floorboard or knock against a neighbor’s wall, but he could hear much more than that from any adjacent apartment. 

The person in the apartment to his right was out of their mind to think their singing in the shower sounded anything other than torturous. The person above him had two dogs that made about as much noise as a bull. The guy across the hall talked to himself, a lot. 

And the person to his left was you. He didn’t hear much from you, at first. You were a couple of years older than him; pretty and sweet and kind to the core. An ideal neighbor, if you asked Satori, and a good friend in recent months. He’d lend you laundry detergent when you needed it, and you’d invite him over to have tea as a thank you. He mentioned he worked at the bakery at the end of the street, and the next day you made good on your promise to visit him at work and try anything he recommended. When you realized you both had the same taste in comics, you started your own mini book club, using each other’s collections as your personal libraries, and spending hours discussing the intricacies of a single page. 

You were close by, and he thought that maybe that was why you had become such good friends so quickly. You liked his taste in books and he liked the way you made his tea, and silent moments with you in your apartment were just that. He’d gotten comfortable with your presence before he ever realized it, long before lingering touches or caught stares or shared secrets. 

Maybe it was the night you fell asleep in the middle of watching his favorite movie that he finally put it all together; when the only noise you had made in an hour was a weird snore that made him laugh loud enough to wake you up as you stayed sleeping anyway. 

Your head fell against his shoulder as the credits started playing, and he was ready to sit there all night. 

“It was good,” you mumbled, having woken up without him realizing. 

“Was it?” he asked, and he lifted his arm and draped it over your shoulder, and you just curled into him. 

“Mhm. Really liked it, Satori.” 

“I’m sure.” He laughed, and you laughed, too, and he felt warm without noticing it. He was so in his place that he didn’t even know. He could laugh with you and pull you closer to him and press a kiss onto the side of your head, all without thinking, because he didn’t need to. 

But the moment shattered at the sound of a baby crying from an apartment down the hall, and it pulled Satori right back down to earth. Like he’d been suddenly reminded of the existence of everyone else in the world, realizing that it wasn’t just the two of you and this one room. 

His arm around you felt heavier. Your hand on his leg was burning. He realized the kiss was probably too far, and so he offered to go and let you sleep. You pressed further into him, seeming to contrast the fact that you didn’t decline, and Satori soon returned to his apartment to find a collage of questions waiting for him. 

Up until recently, you were just a neighbor. And then you were just a friend, until you weren’t - until he realized he was happier with you than he was anywhere else. 

As his heart grew fonder for you he found himself paying more and more attention to every noise he heard coming from behind the wall he shared with you. 

Soon, he knew the routine you followed every night. He could hear it. 

As soon as you got home from work, you turned your music on and played it loud. The songs weren’t much of his taste at first, but he learned to get used to you playing songs you loved on repeat. And he’d do nothing but smile as he listened to you listening to these songs, learning more of the words each time you played them, until you moved on to the next single to overplay. 

You showered at the exact same time every night; the pipes in this building were obnoxiously loud, at times they sounded broken. And he only just realized the whirring noise that started at seven every evening was coming from your room. He’d ask you why you kept your showers on a strict schedule, if he didn’t feel like such a creep for knowing that in the first place, but he simply chalked it up to another one of your quirks. 

And over time, as your relationship started to evolve past friendship, landing in some uncanny space where you held hands all the time and kissed only sometimes, Satori found himself even more in tune with every creak from your floorboard. Every song you played. Every word you mumbled to yourself. Every shower you took. And every whimper, gasp and moan he heard fall from your lips late at night. 

It was embarrassing, at first, when he heard those sweet sounds and had to question what in the hell you were doing. And as it clicked in his mind, he ran to take a cold shower and forget the embarrassment caused by accidentally eavesdropping on you. You were having an intimate moment and he had no right to listen to that, no matter how badly he wanted to. 

He’d do almost anything to drown out the sounds because the thoughts you were causing him to have were nothing but pure sin, and he could hardly stand to look you in the eyes the day after he listened to your moans and thought about being the one causing them. 

Satori couldn’t help that you sounded so pretty while touching yourself, and some nights he was just too lazy to find his headphones to drown out the noise; some nights he couldn’t stop himself from lying in bed as your moans got louder and his cock grew harder, throbbing with every gasp and groan coming from you, aching to be touched to the sounds. He’d have to grind into a pillow for some relief, but it was never enough. 

You were so loud, pleasuring yourself as if no one could hear you, and he had to wonder if you were doing it on purpose. Couldn’t you hear every one of his gasps and stifled groans as he was rutting into the mattress, too shameful to fuck his fist? Didn’t you know he could hear every noise from your lips, every creak of your bed frame as you rocked your hips, every sweet sound your sex made as you fucked yourself? 

You knew - you had to know, or else you wouldn’t put on such a show every single night. And tonight was anything but an exception. 

But tonight… he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t take it. His hand moved on its own accord to his shorts, and they were tugged off before he even knew what he was doing. 

“Fuck.” He said it loud. Loud enough for you to hear. And he was sure you heard him because you started moaning even louder, and Satori’s resolve was gone. 

He’d never worked up to actually getting off while he listened to you. It was one thing he just couldn’t do, no matter how much he wanted to - that would be too far, too wrong. 

But he couldn’t take it anymore - he needed to cum, and he needed to do it while listening to you. And maybe he’d feel guilty afterwards but it was your fault - he’d tell himself that you knew what you were doing just to feel better about it. 

He heard you begging, “Fuck, please - please,” and his hips jerked at the thought of you begging for him, begging for his cock and everything he’d love to give you. Is that what you were thinking about, too? 

It only took a few seconds of stroking himself for Satori to realize that this wasn’t going to last very long. You sounded so fucking pretty, panting and whining and begging; Satori could almost see you lying there underneath him, needing him, obeying him, giving in to him. 

He wondered if he got you too worked up on your movie date hours ago, when you ended up in his lap grinding against him to the beat of the forgotten movie. No matter how hard he pulled you down it wasn’t enough friction, and despite all the dirty words he’d whispered to you neither of you seemed brave enough to push things along. You pulled back from his kiss, obviously overwhelmed and breathing hard, and the last bit of his willpower stopped him from just devouring you right there. He could see it was too much, so he told you, “Let’s finish the movie,” and that’s what the two of you did, but the way you kept your thighs squeezed together and fidgeted with the rings on his fingers didn’t go unnoticed by him. 

And as it turns out, he’d gotten you so worked up that you had to release all that tension yourself. How rude, to take that pleasure from him - to lie in bed and play with yourself when he was the one that caused all that excitement. It was his lips, his hands, his cock that had you soaked and sounding so needy. And what Satori would give to let you have more of what you needed - he was torturing himself, really, by holding back and not taking you those short hours ago. 

But there he was, touching himself when you were the one who deserved to be; maybe he was a hypocrite, but you left him with no other choice. And he’d been moaning just as loud as you were without even realizing it, but just the same, you had quietened down. 

It was nothing more than petty whimpers and whines coming from you now, mixed with heavy breaths and a rare squeak from your bed frame. What were you doing? Were you holding back? 

You were mumbling something, and even though he couldn’t quite make out what you were saying it was still turning him on, keeping his hand tugging his cock, leaving him breathless and needy - but then, what he swore he heard you say had him shaking. He had to stop and just breathe so he didn’t bust right then, because there was no way he heard you whimpering his name - he couldn’t have heard you right, you couldn’t have been brave enough to do that.

But then, again, he heard it. “Please… Satori… want you so bad, please…” 

And, “Fuck,” his mind might’ve been playing tricks on him but he didn’t care, “holy shit,” he’d moan your name right back to you and fail at keeping it modest, “oh my god, I need you - fuck - so bad, I need you,” and at that point he didn’t know what was stopping him from going next door and giving both of you what you needed. 

The rush this was giving him was enough; the images of you he’d thought up would last until he could see the real thing. He already had you begging for him - this was just the build up, just to have a little fun before he gave in and knocked on your door and gave you everything you were asking him for.  

The more you moaned his name and whined out pleas, the closer he got to cumming; it wasn’t his hand getting him there, it was only you pushing him along. His fist was nowhere near good enough, not when you were right next door waiting for him, already soaking wet and prepped to take his cock. But he could probably get off to the thought of burying himself in you alone - and being so close is what kept him from stopping. 

He heard you say, “I’m close - gonna cum,” a warning likely meant for him but an announcement to every resident on your apartment floor with how loud you said it. But Satori felt like he could hardly hear you - he was one step ahead of you and he felt like his head was underwater, like you’d thrown him deep into some euphoric ocean and all he had to do was swim to the top.  

He was sure he’d never felt so good in his life, and the only thing that could’ve made it better was seeing you unraveling for him rather than only listening. He knew you were looking prettier on the other side of the wall than in his head but the mental image was all he needed until he could breathe again. 

It felt like forever until he broke the surface, and when he did he struggled to catch his breath or shake off the tingling in his legs. And he was met with silence; unfamiliar and uncomfortable. What’s worse, he had a mess to clean up - a mess you caused, much better suited to be on your stomach rather than his own. 

He tried not to drown in the quiet, tried not thinking about what exactly just happened minutes ago for the sake of avoiding regret and guilt and fear. It wasn’t that big of a deal, he thought, yet the irrational thoughts crept up on him anyway. 

Maybe you didn’t mean it. Maybe you were only using him to get off. Maybe it was his fault for taking it so seriously - it was nothing more than risky, sexy fun. 

It wouldn’t matter if he didn’t like you so much. If you were nothing more than two neighbors taking advantage of thin walls to get off together, he’d have no issue. But that isn’t what you were - not to him, at least, though maybe you felt differently. 

Satori was overthinking all of it, but you were being so fucking quiet, and he didn’t know what to do about it; he was finally tugging his shorts back on, and debating saying something loud enough to get your attention, when the silence was finally broken with a knock on his door. 

He was sure a neighbor had heard that escapade and decided to call in a complaint, and he was preparing himself for that conversation when he opened the door and found you on the other side of it. 

And even with all of his overthinking, this conversation wasn’t one he was ready for. 

“Oh - hey.” 

“Hi.” 

You were cute - he came close to just blurting it out, confessing every thought he had as he watched you acting shy and docile after working up the courage to knock on his door. 

“Do you wanna…” 

“Talk about what just happened?” 

You laughed, that same laugh you gave him every time he said something dumb or too smug. It was never at anything funny, but he found it cute, anyway. 

“We could just watch a movie instead.” 

“Just watch a movie?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, and you can pick so I can take a nap.” 

He scoffed at you but stepped to the side to let you in, anyway, despite that hit to his fragile ego. “Fine - you just make sure to keep your hands to yourself this time.” 

“No promises,” you called back, having already made yourself comfortable on his couch. 

And that’s when something seemed to snap - this tension was unbearable and now that he knew you were wanting him, it was pointless to keep up an act. You both felt it and there was no reason to hide it, or pretend it wasn’t there, so Satori wasn’t going to. He was going to take this as far as you would let him; he was going to make you his as long as you would say yes. This wasn’t just friendly anymore, and there was no charade worth keeping up. 

He knew why you came over - you were just too afraid to say it. But he’d work that out of you eventually; he’d have you begging for what you wanted soon. And he could hardly wait for it. 

“Then why don’t we just skip to that?”