#i am not touch-starved or craving to be held for hours if someone were to

[winterstorm032802]

Rayla being touch-starved for contact that isn't followed with almost dying or such. Rayla being touch-starved because she was alone for some time before finding Stella. Rayla being touch-starved, and once Callum hugs her when they aren't around others, she almost collapses into his arms and sobs. Callum not getting why she's crying, but soon enough, realizing it whenever he holds her hand or gently brushes past her and she tenses up or her eyes fill with tears.

#the dragon prince #tdp #rayla #callum #rayllum #rayla x callum #i am NOT projecting #you can't prove it #i am not touch-starved or craving to be held for hours if someone were to

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

The Trouble of Love Languages

Dean Winchester x plus size reader

Dean’s love language is quality time and acts of service while the woman he loves most in this world craves physical touch, which is the one thing he can’t stand.

Warnings: angst to fluff, they’re both in a bit of the wrong here, Dean has touch aversion, arguing, Dean is definitely an asshole with lots of unresolved issues, slightly toxic relationship?, break up, reader is ever so slightly touch starved, lovers to ex’s to lovers again, drinking, crying, comfort, hopeful ending, Sam is a good wingman

WC: 4.7k

Minors DNI

Dean Winchester hated to be touched. After spending all of his life with minimal kind physical touch with the people he cared about, it was no wonder he had an aversion to it. He could put up with a hug or slap on the back to his brother and fleeting kisses to his girlfriend’s cheek or forehead but everything else was off limits.

She did her best with what she got but sometimes, she just wanted to be held against his broad chest and inhale his unique scent of cheap cologne and gunpowder with just a hint of cherry pie. She wanted to feel the warmth of his body pressed tightly to her but her love for the hunter kept those needs locked behind a steel door that she never noticed had begun to rust.

Y/N sighed, putting down the massive book on werewolves that she had been studying for the past few hours. There was a tight band around her head that was slowly drawing tighter and tighter as a killer tension headache set in. She glanced over to the other side of the library where Dean had his feet perched up on the table as he leaned back in his chair, mindlessly sucking one of the lollipops Y/N had bought for Halloween.

He was only wearing a gray henley today instead of his usual many layers of plaids and shirts so she could see, very clearly, the way his muscles moved under the fabric and the slight pudge of his belly. Those dazzling green eyes were fixed on a new edition of some car magazine he picked up on the way back from a hunt. Y/N couldn’t help it.

Slipping from her own chair, she glided over to him. “What’cha reading?” 

“Magazine.” He grunted but she knew he wasn’t being mean, sometimes Dean just didn’t want to talk. Without thinking, she laid her hands on his thick shoulder and gave them a squeeze.

Dean flinched out of her grasp, turning so quickly that Y/N had to take a step back to avoid being knocked over.  His chair clattered to the floor as the library settled into an explosive silence. Y/N knew Dean could be scary, he’s been through so much trauma, seen and experienced things twenty times over that no human should ever have to see or experience even once. He told her of his time in hell and as a demon but promised that she would never be scared of him because he would protect her.

But now, as his chest heaved with heavy breaths, he was positively terrifying. “How many times have I told you not to do that?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “You know I don’t like to be touched and yet you still continue to do it. How long is it going to take before you get it? I. Don’t. Want. To. Touch. You.” His voice was level but filled with anger, a rage she had only seen when he confronted the worst kinds of monsters imaginable.

“Dean I’m sorry I-“ 

“You know maybe we shouldn’t even be together. Time and time again, you do this and you always say you’re sorry and that you won’t do it again but then a couple days later, you do.” Y/N’s heart was breaking right in front of the hunter but he was too blind with fury he couldn’t see it. “I can’t be with someone as fucking needy as you. It’s every goddamn day! I can’t get one second of peace with you being so clingy.”

That was the last straw. Y/N pushed a finger into his chest, shoving him backwards. He knew how insecure she was about her need for affection and constant reassurance, but until now, he never made her feel like it was an inconvenience. “Then yeah we shouldn’t be together. But you’re not going to be the one to break us up, I am. You’re a selfish man Dean Winchester. I don’t ask a lot from you. I ask that you take care of yourself, that you don’t cheat on me, that you treat me with respect and maybe the occasional hug so I don’t feel like one of your one night stands when you roll off of me after sex.

“I deserve someone who wants to be near me, who tries to understand what I need instead of brushing me off because you don’t want to make the effort. I am sick of being treated like a toy you can pick up and put down whenever you want a quick fuck or comfort. So Dean, you got your wish, we’re done.” Y/N turned and stormed off, her eyes burning with tears that didn’t fall until she could no longer hear her now ex destroying the library.

It was sad how quickly her bags were packed, only a duffle bag and a backpack that housed her entire life. She paused as she lifted the flannel she often wore to bed, the red and black fabric was soaked in Dean’s scent and never failed to make her feel safe every time she wore it.

It felt like a reminder of her faults, of all the things wrong with her that he couldn’t put up with. Scoffing, she threw it onto the bed they had shared only a couple hours ago. There was a quick knock on the door jam.

Sam, the gentle giant that he was, leaned on the wood, brown eyes big with concern. “Where’s Dean?” 

“Don’t know, don’t care.” She snapped, quickly zipping up her bag and tossing it over her shoulder, barging past him.

“Hey hey, what’s going on? Did you and Dean have a fight?” He trailed after her like a puppy, sadly watching as she stomped towards the garage which notably was missing the prized Impala. A cruel part of her mind cooed that it was probably parked at some bar where he would find someone better than her. 

“If you can call it that.” She muttered, throwing open the door to her truck and shoving her stuff in. Just as she was about to climb in herself, Sam’s hand wrapped around her forearm to hold her back.

“What happened?” Tears quickly rolled down her full cheeks, wetting the shirt she was wearing as they made their way down her neck. She turned to look at the men who had become her best friend, her voice firm with a slight quiver of sadness. 

“We broke up.”

With a quick pull of her arm, Sam released her and she stepped into the cab of the truck. She rolled down the window, giving him a somber look. “Take care of him, ok. And-“ Y/N debated her next words carefully before speaking again. “Tell him I love him, even if he doesn’t believe it. He needs to know he’s loved.”

And with that, she drove off, leaving behind a very confused Sam and a life that she wished she could have kept.

——————

Another town, another hunt, another bar. That’s how it always went and for a long time, Dean was content to keep it that way. Then she blew into his life like a hurricane, knocking everything off path and forging her own. No more random hookups or drinking beer with every meal. She even made him get rid of all the guns he mounted on the wall in his room.

And now, the hurricane had passed, leaving behind destruction and a hole the shape of her in his heart. But she would not come back, he made sure of that when he called her clingy. He knew it was wrong but he couldn’t stop himself from saying it. He regretted it the moment it left his mouth and watched as the light in her eyes died.

She was gone, because of him, because of his stupidity he lost the best thing that has ever happened to him and the only thing he could do was accept it. So, he went back to his old ways, paving over the path of destruction in his soul the only way he knew how, beer, hunts, and women. 

Sam decided to stay in the motel that night, shooting his older brother a look so devastating that Dean couldn’t meet his eye for fear he would see the disappointment and pity he already felt in himself. But Dean slipped out the door anyway and headed for the closest bar, truly not giving a shit if it was any good or not.

The music was too loud, the lights too dim, the beer too stale. Dean, however, was determined to stay, trying to convince himself that he could go on without her. He downed his first drink quickly, not letting the taste hit his tongue before his glass was drained. Signaling for another one, he rested his elbow against the sticky bar counter.

It was familiar, like returning to your childhood home. But it felt wrong. The voice in the back of his mind was screaming at him to leave, to find her and crawl on his knees begging for forgiveness until she came back. That voice was silenced with another glass of cheap whiskey.

The hand planted on his chest was familiar too. A touch he could tolerate because he knew what came after, sweaty bodies rutting together until that rush of dopamine hit him and he could feel like a normal person for a while. She was pretty, young too and obviously enamoured by the sexy older man with a gruff voice that bought her drinks and made her feel special.

Another drink. She asked him to go back to hers and he agreed, following blindly after her as she led him away. He couldn’t remember the walk to the non descript apartment, only coming back to himself when she took his hand in her own, shooting him a wink that he supposed was meant to be sultry but just served to lessen the ache in his cock. 

Her slender fingers hooked into the belt loops of his jeans, tugging his thin hips into hers and pulled him into her home. The door slammed shut behind him, blindly following her. 

A grunt was knocked from his lungs as she moved him onto her bed, sinking to her knees with hooded eyes. “Lemme take care of you baby.” Her voice was grating on his ears. Dean resisted the urge to flinch when her palms were laid on his muscular thighs.

It was so wrong, a nightmare he couldn’t escape but at the same time, didn’t want to because he wanted to prove something to himself, to validate his anger and his rage at the woman that loved him so much. Dean felt her tug at his belt and was broken from his thoughts.

“Stop. Just stop.” He all but shoved the girl off of him in his haste. 

“What the hell!” She chastised, quite obviously offended at having been rejected by this man that until a few seconds ago, seemed very keen to have a night of fun with her. Dean shook his head and with a muttered ‘sorry’ left her kneeling on the bedroom floor.

“You fucking dick!” She called after him, and he couldn’t help but agree.

——————

Jody’s home was pleasant enough to live in. With home cooked meals every single night and a deluge of girl talk with not only the Sheriff but the two teens in her charge. It was a good distraction for a while, getting caught up in the usual antics of the young women that Y/N imagined Sam and Dean were like when they were younger.

But even the best distractions can only last for a little while. And each night, as she settled into the small bed graciously given to her, Y/N just felt alone. She was out of place here, a passing visitor that had overstayed her welcome long ago. No matter how much Jody may have protested the opposite and Claire and Alex insisted that they loved having her there, this wasn’t Y/N’s home.

Her home had always been Dean. His presence had soothed her soul in a way that nothing had ever done before. She lived for nights where they would drink and laugh themselves silly or when he would prepare her coffee just the way she liked it in the morning. She desperately missed how his face would break out into an uneven and frankly goofy smile when she teased Sam.

In a vain attempt to stop her mind from going down a road that she knew would make her spiral, Y/N shoved her headphones in her ears and blasted a random playlist. The soft guitar and crooning voice so similar to Dean’s had her eyes burning with tears. Her chest ached as she thought about the way he sang to her in the car, his hand on the seat beside her plump thigh, not quite touching her but close enough she knew it was there.

Tears rolled down her temples wetting the pillow beneath her head as she let herself mourn the love she had lost. Her sobs were silent, mere hiccups as she forced herself not to make any noise to alert the others. She couldn’t take anymore of their pitying looks.

She hugged herself tightly as her nails dug into her soft forearms, her chest heaving with her cries. Images of the man she considered her soulmate with another woman sent her deeper down the rabbit hole of self-despair. She could only imagine what he had gotten up to in the weeks since she left and it was driving her crazy.

The song faded out, leaving Y/N alone with her thoughts for a second too long. The brightness of the screen blinded her for just a moment before she clicked on the last text exchange in her phone.

I love you sweetheart

The low buzz of the outgoing call rumbled against her chest where she placed her phone face down. In the silence between each ring, she was doubting her decision more and more. Why should she reach out first when he was the one that broke them? 

“Hello?” His raspy voice came out crackled through her head phones, making her heart jump slightly. 

“S-sorry butt dial.” She panicked, quickly hanging up but not before hearing him call out, “Wait! Plea-“ Y/N threw her phone onto the pile of her clothes in the corner of the room, ignoring how it was now ringing again, a photo of her and Dean lighting the screen.

Sleep did not come easily that night even after her cries ceased, her eyes finally fluttering closed as the sun began to peak over the horizon, dousing the room in a soft pink.

——————

It was rare that music didn’t play in the Impala. There was almost always a constant stream of classic rock that spewed from the radio, yet the silence was more overwhelming than the usual loud songs Dean sang along to. 

Sam was deeply concerned for his older brother. He knew the break up hit him hard, no matter how hard he tried to hide it, but the younger Winchester didn’t think it was this bad. Dean reeked of the same whiskey he religiously drank after they lost Bobby. His clothes were rumpled and dirty, the Impala, his prized possession looked dull and lifeless, caked with dirt and dead bugs.

Dean hadn’t shaved in the weeks since she left so he now sported a semi-impressive beard which Sam attempted to make fun of just the same as his own facial hair had been but Dean had merely grunted and ignored him. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” He attempted to start a conversation.

“Jody’s.”

“Why?” The one word answers were nothing new, but at least he was talking. Dean’s green eyes flicked briefly over to his brother before returning to the road. 

“Hunt.” Sam sighed, slumping back against the leather bench of the car, his focus shifting to the world that was speeding past them. He was sick of this self-pitying attitude that was slowly driving the older man to madness when it could be solved so easily.

“If you pulled your head out of your ass, you could get her back.” The air in the car turned to ice. “Don’t act like I didn’t hear you frantically calling her last night.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He growled, knuckles turning white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. But Sam kept pushing.

“She’s the best thing to have ever happened to you and you just let her leave. Or maybe you just never loved her since you went home with someone only a week ago, that’s why you didn’t put up a fight.” 

“Shut up Sam.” Sam, that should have made him worry. He was only called Sam when Dean was pissed and on the edge of an almost toddler-like melt down. 

“I’m just saying, if you really wanted to, and I mean really really wanted to, she would forgive you. But you don’t want to make the effort.” The tires screamed as Dean pulled off the road with a flick of his wrists. Sam was jerked sideways with the force but then was sent the other direction as Dean fisted the front of his flannel and shoved him back against the car door.

His eyes were wild with fury and his next words came out in a snarl. “I can’t get her back. Don’t you understand that. I just can’t.”

“Why not?” He pushed, desperate to get his brother to finally come to his senses. “You know she loves you and that she would do anything for you. What made this fight so terrible?”

“Because I can’t touch her!” The silence quickly returned as Sam tried to comprehend what he was just told. “I can’t touch her Sammy.” Dean was on the edge of tears. He released his shirt from his grasp like the fabric had burnt him and buried his head in his hands.

Sam had never witnessed Dean like this before, like his world was crumbling down before him and he wasn’t doing anything to stop it because he had just given up. No matter the circumstances or insurmountable odds that had faced him, he always pushed through with his can-do attitude and unwavering loyalty to those he loved. But now he was being consumed by a hopelessness so many monsters had attempted to instill in him but never could.

He was heartbroken and suffering. He lost the woman who knew his soul and yet still loved him. Sam knew what that despair felt like, to have such a great love ripped away and not giving yourself time to lament on that loss. 

“Dean.” He started but was quickly interrupted.

“I couldn’t give her what she deserved. I couldn’t be that loving boyfriend she wanted so badly. I couldn’t even fucking hug her without feeling like I wanted to push her away. And I knew it was hurting her but she was right, I am selfish. I wanted her to myself even if I could see her slowly dying inside.”

The sun was quickly setting over the brothers, the reds and purples giving way to a deep blue. They watched, for a moment, as the stars began to appear and the darkness surrounded them. “I’ve hurt so many people in my life. My hands have been stained red with blood for so long and she was the one person I couldn’t stand to hurt. Yet I hurt her so badly that she ran away from me.”

“But you do want her back don’t you?”

Tearful green eyes looked back at him. “More than anything.”

“Then we need to make a pitstop, I have an idea.”

——————

Y/N couldn’t help but notice Jody’s worried glances towards the front door as they ate dinner. “Alright Mills, that’s the eighth time you’ve looked at the door in five minutes. What’s going on? Do you have a secret lover coming over?” Claire snorted in her drink but quickly recovered as her surrogate mom shot her a glare.

“No, I do not have a secret lover. Thank you very much. I’m just waiting for a package.” Y/N raised an eyebrow at the older woman, still incredibly doubtful.

“It’s almost 10 at night, why would a package be delivered this late?” 

“Well, I-“ The doorbell rang, saving her from having to give another lame excuse. “Excuse me a moment, there’s my package.” Y/N narrowed her eyes at the Sheriff, not saying anything else.

Alex sighed, shaking her head, like she was in on some conspiracy that Jody had set up. “Have you got anything to add?” Y/N teased.

“Nope, nothing at all. Isn’t that right Claire?” Said girl, who was sitting to Y/N’s left, just huffed and took another large bite of her food.

Y/N ignored the muffled voices coming from the entryway, assuming that Jody, being her usual friendly self, was making conversation with whoever was at the door. Then, “hey girls, I need your help for a minute.” And without so much as a groan of annoyance, both teens stood and rushed from the room.

Before Y/N could follow after them, she heard the front door slam shut and the obvious sound of a car engine starting up and then driving away. “What the hell?” Just as she stood from the table to investigate, a large figure blocked the doorway.

“Dean?” 

“Hi sweetheart.” She melted at the sound of his voice clearly after so long and not through the crackly and broken version she heard through the dozens of voicemails he left her the night before. She itched to run into his strong arms but remained in place, her hand absentmindedly falling to the table, laying her palm flat against the butter knife she had been using. “I hope you’re not planning on using that on me.”

Dean gestured to her hand in a joking manner but only succeeded in making her scowl at him. “You look like shit.” He winced at her tone.

“I deserved that.”

“You deserve a lot worse. What the hell do you want Winchester?” Dean sighed. His body tilted forward, like he wanted to get closer. Running a hand through his hair, which was slightly longer than he normally kept it, his eyes dropped to the ground.

Y/N watched as he deflated, the usually stoic image of the hunter before her crumbling to dust and leaving a man that looked truly broken. “I didn’t mean to call you clingy.” Straight to business, good. She thought.

“But you did. And you did it knowing full well how I feel about that word.” Unconsciously, her voice softened as he nodded along to what she was saying.

“I know and I’m sorry about that. I’m- fuck- I’m sorry about everything.” Y/N didn’t object when he took a tentative step forward and she cursed her body for not recoiling as he drew closer. Yet she couldn’t bring herself to move away. “I wish I could be the man you want, the one you deserve, but I’m not and I don’t think I will ever be.”

“Not really selling your case here Dean.” 

“Just- just let me get to my point and then you can cuss me out. I love you and I want to change for you. I want to get better at touching you and I’ll do whatever it takes to bring you home. Besides Sammy’s been pouting a lot without you there and it’s getting really fucking annoying.” Of course the man couldn’t get through a serious discussion without being a dumbass.

Dean stood inches from her now, and Y/N could see how his hands trembled, either from anxiety or the copious amounts of alcohol she smelt from him, she didn’t know. “I don’t want you to change, Dean. I love you for who you are but you really hurt me and-“

“I know.” He cut her off. “I know and I want to make it right, if you’ll let me.” His green eyes shone with tears

“Goddamn you and your stupid puppy dog eyes.” She grumbled. Dean smirked. “Alright! Jesus, we can try again but I expect so much fucking grovelling, like ten times more than I had to do when I accidentally ate the last slice of pecan pie.”

He smiled and nodded, placing his hand on the dining room table mere millimeters from her own. “Anything you want sweetheart.” 

“And no sex for the foreseeable future, not even over the clothes stuff.” He winced at that but still, his smile did not waver.

“And, and, fuck I can’t think of anything else with you looking at me like that.” She whined and turned her head so she didn’t have to look into his eyes anymore. Y/N gasped as a finger hooked under her chin, guiding her gaze back to the man she still loved so much. His smile was even softer now, almost dopey with love.

“I’ll do whatever it takes, even if that means never getting to see you in anything less than fully clothed for the rest of my life and giving you all of my pie. I just need you, sweetheart.” His forehead dropped to her own, the tips of their noses brushing together in an act so intimate it made her chest burn with affection.

“Did you sleep with anyone else?” The question hung heavily in the air, pressing down on both of their chests like a massive weight. Dean breathed out harshly through his nose and Y/N froze, already fearing his answer, she began to pull away. But without any hesitation, his right arm wound around her thick waist and tugged her into his chest. Caught off guard, Y/N planted her hands on his chest.

She felt the way his body tensed beneath her palms, still so unused to being touched but he didn’t let her go like he would have before. “The short answer: no.”

“And the long answer?” Her throat felt like it was closing up with the onslaught of tear building behind her eyes.

“A girl brought me back to her place and tried to go down on me but I didn’t even kiss her. I left before she got my belt off.” Unable to stop herself, Y/N chuckled.

“You just left?”

Dean’s cheeks coloured with a rare flush. “Yeah, I walked out the door and she was still on her knees calling me a dick.”

“Well she was right about that.” And they stayed like that for a moment, letting themselves be reminded about how much they loved each other. Pressing a quick kiss to her forehead, Dean stepped away.

“Wait here, I have something for you.” With a few long strides, he left the room and then quickly reappeared holding a canvas bag with the phrase ‘act like a lady, think like a boss’ printed on the side in big, bold lettering. “Don’t diss the bag sweetheart.”

And before she could snark something back, he pulled a teddy bear from the bag. The bear seemed to be a regular plush at first glance, but when Dean handed it to her, Y/N couldn’t help but smile brightly. The toy easily weighed 5 pounds and suspiciously smelt of Dean’s cologne. “I thought that this could be a substitute for when you want to cuddle. But this is temporary, cause I will get better. He’s just a placeholder.”

“He?” 

“Yeah.” He sighed happily. “Little Dean Jr.” Holding the bear tighter to her chest, Y/N stood on her tiptoes and finally planted her lips on his. Her skin burned as the soft kiss quickly turned more passionate and his newly grown beard scraped against her. Fingers curled into his hair, Y/N yanked him even closer as Dean’s hands fell to her generous ass, giving her cheeks a light squeeze.

Reluctantly, she pulled away first, her lungs screaming for oxygen and her brain telling her that if she kissed him any more, she would end up in the back seat of Baby with her legs over his shoulders. “This is a start. But I will not have you talk to me like that again. If you do, I’m gone and you won’t ever see me again.”

“I promise, I’ll do better.” Content with his answer, Y/N pecked his swollen lips. 

“The bear was Sam’s idea wasn’t it?”

“But I named him!” 

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[mistydeyes]

Are your pairings still open? Feel free to ignore this if they aren't

Pronouns:

She/her

Appearance:

5ft tall (short as hell) and chubby.

I'm very Pale with freckles and green eyes. I have dyed black hair cut into a shag with bangs.

I'm very insecure about my body and kinda hate the way I look. I may have a slight eating disorder but Im usually fine. Currently trying to lose weight healthily.

I dress kinda alternative in blacks and am always wearing a bunch of jewelry. (Mostly ones I make). I am also always wearing boots (Often platform boots).

I wear tight pants both beacause they look good and I have sensory issues. I can't stand loose ones and mostly wear yoga pants.

Other:

I love to sew, crochet, make jewelry, draw etc... Basically anything where I get to create something. I love seeing an idea come to life. I'm constantly making things and I like to fidget with anything I get my hands on (meaning I have a habit of breaking stuff) (oops).

I constantly crave affection (but will never admit to that) I really love cuddling, and am definitely touch starved but anyone who knows that has figured it out themselves. Because for some reason my brain thinks I don't deserve any of it.

I am way too nice to everyone, even at my own expense and tend to Bury my emotions when I am in pain. I have Depression and some anxiety and tend to worry about if anyone I know actually likes me while simultaneously thinking that I don't deserve anyone to love me.

I am shy and awkward as heck. But I will talk your ear off if you get to know me.

I love all animals and have a particular fondness for the odd ones. Reptiles and fish are awesome but I love everything including worms that I will rescue from the sidewalk.

I own some fish and shrimp that I love. My plecos and my gecko are like my babies. Especially my boy Groot. He's an albino bristnose pleco and is very ugly, but I love him so much. My entire phone is photos of him and my leopard gecko Leo. (Resisting the urge to attach one) (nevermind) (I'm attaching photos of him, Leo, and my other pleco- Carlos)

I know a lot of random facts about animals and can rant for hours about my interests. Very passionate about animals and their care. Love all mine even if I might play favorites.

I'm also not super Great at reading social situations. Expecially flirting. I am so oblivious and unless someone is incredibly direct I won't notice it or think it's a joke.

I will gift people I like things I make. I make a lot of plushies in particular that I create. I love to see people happy

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish (a/n: ur lil pets are absolutely adorable!! i literally cannot get over how cute they are, thank you so much for including pictures of them)

How you met: The first time you and Johnny met was definitely a story that entertained all your friends. It all started when you were at the pet store buying crickets and mealworms for your geckos. As you inspected the container of dried insects, someone came up next to you. You first noticed his basket was full of a 5lb bag of dog food that he effortlessly held in one hand. The next was his smile that lit up is face as he looked at you. "I think a restaurant would be a better place to find food don't you think," he asked you and you were a little confused. "But these aren't for me, they're for my geckos," you corrected and his smile faltered a bit. "I uh was just saying maybe I could take you to a nice restaurant some time," he sheepishly said and rubbed the back of his neck as his face grew pink. You had a habit of being terrible at reading social situations and were blushing profusely. "OH, I'm sorry I'm really bad at telling when people are flirting with me," you corrected. "Don't worry, I'm Johnny by the way," he said as he shook your hand, "how about I give you my number and you can call me when you're free? It looks like you have a little army to feed." He wasn't wrong, you were rushing home to feed your babies and this was just meant to be a pit stop. He read out his number as you typed in his number on your phone. "And don't worry if you don't want to, I won't take it to heart," he joked and went to go pay for his things. You stared at your phone for a while as you looked at his contact name "Johnny AKA pick-up line guy."

A peek into your relationship: "Open it," you said excitingly as you pushed the box into Johnny's hands. You had been working on a gift for him for ages and were happy to finish it just as winter was approaching. You had tried your best to keep it a secret and delayed the project as Johnny would always find a way next to you. "Alright, alright, chill little lass," he said as he pulled apart the layers of gift wrap and the lid to a box. You watched intently as he grabbed the two items which sat on a pillow of tissue paper. "You've really outdone yourself, bonnie," he said as he pulled out a crochet hat and scarf. "Heard you can get cold when patrolling and I thought it would keep you warm," you smiled as he inspected the stitches. He eventually saw that you had sewn a little patch with a dog that looked similar to his. "Yer attention to detail is something else," he said as he tried on the set for you. You quickly grabbed your phone as you snapped a picture of him. "That one's a keeper," you said as you laid your head in his lap. He took this time to pepper your face with kisses as you laughed at his stubble brushing your face.

Months later when he was on deployment, you got a message from Ghost that showed the scenery of a snowy cliff and in the center of photo was Johnny bundled up with his scarf and hat.

#izziespairings #madebyizzie #cod mwii #mw2 imagine #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #mw2

[tatestripedsweater]

Crimson Sheets

Plot: James certainly wasn’t afraid of a little blood, so when your period arrived he took great pleasure in easing those cramps of yours

James Patrick March X Fem!Reader

Warning: Blood Kink, Oral (Female Recieving), Period Sex

Word Count: 2,271

A/N: If any of these ^ aren’t your thing simply don’t read, the warnings there for a reason dears. I tried my best with his smut, hope you enjoy!

Protective was an understatement of how you’d describe James, if anyone was looking in your direction one quick glare from him and they’d be gone. Quite literally after a few hours.

So when he saw you curled up in the bed you two shared; which was mostly used for fucking, his heart sank. Small whimpers left your lips as the sheets covered your figure, he often liked whimpers escaping your throat but this was a completely different scenario entirely.

It’s not that he hadn’t been with you when you were on your period, you just simply tried to avoid any attention to which he’d figure it out.

‘’My darling.. who do I need to kill?’’ Kneeling beside you by the bed, his big hand moved your hair back so he could see your face properly. Your eyes red and puffy, he would hurt the person who had put you in this state, part of him had a suspicion that it’s Elizabeth.

‘’No one.. it’s nothing James..” He could always tell when you lied, your voice went high and you couldn’t bare to look him in the eyes. James’ jaw clenched as he tried to compose himself, not wanting you to see the rage inside him with you in this fragile state.

‘’Darling.. dearest.. tell me’’ The pet names he called you made your heart flutter, even though you both came from different eras in the world you could help but fall for the man kneeled by you. Yes he was a killer, and the anger in him sometimes frightened you but he was the only man that you had been with that out your needs first.

‘’I’m bleeding..’’ The anger went from his eyes and it soon turned to worry, lifting up the sheets he saw no evidence of the red substance. He was acting like a doctor, examining you for any injuries. ‘’I meant between my legs James..’’

‘’Oh..’’ You half expected him to walk away, back in his day women rarely spoke of such a thing, just suffered in silence. But the smirk on his face said otherwise, what was going through that brain of his? ‘’Darling you should’ve just told me, I am sure I know a way to ease your pain’’

Before you could even question him James had already moved so he was kneeled above you, his tall stature made you feel tiny. You sometimes wondered how you got so lucky, he could have any women he wanted yet he picked you.

‘’ I hear orgasms ease a females menstrual pains my dear, so that is what I’ll give you’’ Before you could even protest to the idea he lifted your night dress, James cold lips caressed the skin of your stomach before leaving open mouthed kisses on soft and supple skin.

A groan left his lips when he heard the noises that was leaving yours, anyone would think you hadn’t been touched like this before, James knew how sensitive you were to his touch and used that knowledge to his advantage. Kissing his way down to your stomach he saw a glint of fear in your eyes, James could tell no man has ever pleasured you through on your period but he wasn’t going to stop. Not even for a little bit of blood.

‘’Darling I take the lives of others, I practically bathe in their blood, this inconvenience of yours is not going to bother me one bit’’ Using his teeth he peeled of your underwear down your thighs, he knew just how to get you writhing under him. From the material of your underwear grazing against your skin as he pulled them down made goosebumps appear on your skin, he couldn’t help but let out a dark chuckle at how sensitive you are.

Looking away you felt your cheeks go bright red as he looked between your thighs, you couldn’t even respond but only with a moan as soon as his lips wrapped themselves around your clit. James’ hands pressing down against your stomach as he held you in place, he felt himself get harder with each moan that you let out.

He didn’t even complain of the taste, in fact he loved it. The mixture of your cunts natural wetness and the copper of the blood was enough to make him grind down against the bed as he lay between your legs. Squeezing his head between your thighs he pried them back open, even in times like this James wanted complete and utter control over you.

‘’J-James..’’ Leaning your head back against the pillow you took everything he was giving to you, his tongue was like magic. Moving a hand down you gripped onto his raven hair, which made him not only groan against you but nipple slightly on your clit. The sudden feeling made you jolt ever so slightly, a smirk plastered across his face.

‘’Be careful with pulling my hair dearest, you know how excited that makes me’’ Oh you did indeed, the first time you done it, it was my accident, but the reaction you got out of him was enough to make your underwear from to your ankles.

Teasing your cunt he parted your lips with his fingers as his mouth still assaulted your clit, using his index and middle finger he thrusted them inside you. Your moans were getting louder with each stroke of his fingers and every suckle of your clit, but he didn’t dare stop now, not with you completely under his control.

You hoped to god he wasn’t going to stop, you felt like you were in heaven, as soon as your legs started to tremble James just knew he had you right on the edge. He was like a starving man taking his last meal, James could spend hours between your legs with no complaints what so ever. Curling his fingers inside you, James hit the spot, he knew just from the way your hips bucked and how you cried out his name like a mantre.

‘’James please!’’ A mixture of curse words and his name left your lips as your orgasm started to take over, you felt like fire was pooling down in your stomach. It wasn’t a bad feeling, not at all, it was the most pleasurable moment you had experienced. Your knuckles turned white as you gripped onto the bed sheets for dear life, James’ eyes were on you the whole time as he worked you through your orgasm.

‘’There she is..’’ He muttered against your cunt as he slowed down to ease you from your high, you were like an angel to him. It was like light had surrounded you, the only pure thing he had in his life yet you were like a whore in the bedroom. His to take as he pleaded, and he certainly didn’t hear any complaints from you.

Slowly pulling away he got back up on his knees, and the sight before you was enough to make a nun swear, from the tip of his nose all the way around his mouth was covered in your blood. Licking his lips he hummed in satisfaction, at this point you didn’t even care about the bedsheets Mrs Evers had to clean after this, the way James looked deemed him a wild animal.

‘’Now dear, let’s get to fucking that cute cunt shall we?’’ The expression on his face was absolutely sinful, and you were sure you’d be welcomed into hell when the time came.

Unbuckling his belt and throwing it somewhere forgotten, he pulled his clothes off with ease. He was like a god, but telling him that was surely going to boost his ego so instead you kept it to yourself. James’ cock was purple around the tip due to it being confined within his clothing. Pre cum ran down the underside of his of cock, growling he saw you bite your lip, knowing exactly what was going through your mind in that moment.

‘’Later, right now this is about you dear’’ James lifted your legs up and around his waist, pulling you closer to him. His cock run across your slit teasingly slow, blood coating his cock as he fired James knew what he was doing to you and he loved it. He had you purring like a kitten and the man hasn’t even fucked you yet, there was one thing about James and that’s that he liked to tease. Wanted you to beg for what you so craved, wanted to hear you tell him how you wanted it.

‘’Please.. use me, I’m yours..’’ Oh you certainly were, and he reminded you each day. Whining as his names dug into your hips, leaving half moon shapes, his hips snapped forward as his cock filled you up deliciously.

‘’Oh that’s it! Take my cock darling!’’ He snarled with each thrust of his hips, he kept it hard and fast, the sheets below you looked like someone had been murdered and honestly it wasn’t the first time that happened within this room.

You were screaming underneath him, the whole hotel was sure enough to hear the both of you. Looking up at him desperately your eyes met his dark ones, the bed was creaking under you both, the headboard banging against the wall. ‘’D-dont stop!’’

‘’I don’t plan too darling!’’ James leaned down and moved your legs up and over his shoulders, the new angle forcing his cock deeper inside you. His hand met the back of your head, pulling your hair tightly to which forced your head up, leaving your neck exposed.

James’ lips met your neck in a hot frenzy, biting down hard on the flesh until he was satisfied with the purple mark leaving in his wake. The only noises in the room were that off you both moaning, and skin slapping together and the wet noise of his cock thrusting inside your cunt, his balls hit your ass with each thrust and you were sure there were going to be bruises just from that.

Sweat formed on your skin, the light making it glisten. His stamina was something you’ve never came across before, I guess that was a perk of being dead, he could go on forever if he could but you, still alive and well could not.

You were careful not to touch the scars on his back, knowing that he’d disapprove and anger him, instead your nails gripped onto his ass cheeks, pulling him deeper inside you if that was even a possibility. His cock filled you up to the brim, your cunt squeezing against him like a vice had such obscene noises leaving your lovers mouth.

‘’Darling your divine, a work of art!’ He snarled each word with a hard thrust, making you squeal out. James always praised you during times like these, it wasn’t exactly gentle sex but it wasn’t the roughest he’d been with you. You were his life, and soon to be wife, Mrs March.

‘’James I don’t think I’ll last much longer..’’ He could tell, from how your legs shook on his shoulders and the squeezing of your cunt around his cock. His orgasm was dawning too much James always made sure to make you cum first, there wasn’t anyway he was going to fill you up beofre you’ve had pleasure overtake your body.

Not caring about the now dried blood around his mouth he kissed you, hungrily yet lovingly. The taste of your cunt mixed with tobacco and the metallic taste of your blood had you whining against his lips, you didn’t expect to find it so arousing, but by god you did and you certainly wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to do it again.

Holding you close he started to loose his rhythm, he was holding back from his own release and you could tell, with each thrust it was getting sloppier and sloppier. The noises your bodies made together was something out of a porn, his breath ragged as your cunt squeezed against him yet again. ‘’J-James..’’ Whimpers left your lips as you felt another orgasm approaching, the burning sensation coming back in your stomach but much stronger this time.

‘’Cum for me darling, let go’’ His voice much deeper than usual along with his words sent you over the edge, clinging onto him for dear life your cunt tightened around his cock once again, forcing a loud moan from your lovers lips. Your orgasm took over your entire body, you started to see stars, it was beautiful and erotic, arching your back as he kept thrusting even after your orgasm, he knew how sensitive you were.

‘’Fuck darling!’’ A snarl left his mouth, he sounded like a wild animal, a beast if you will. His met yours once again hungrily as his thrusts lost more rhythm before his hips stuttered against yours, growling he filled you up with his cum. The smell of blood, sweat and cum filled the room like a whores perfume, it was a scent you could get used too.

Panting heavily below him he watched you with adortion, James thought he’d never find another woman after Elizabeth but once you checked into the hotel it all changed. He had to make you his, and he did, but the fear off loosing you outside of the hotel overtook his senses everyday you left the premises.

One day he would kill you, James knew he would, with or without your consent. But for now he held your hot and sweaty figure in his arms, you completely oblivious to the plans he had in mind for the future.

#american horror story #american horror story gifs #ahs #ahs gifs #ahs hotel #american horror story hotel #james march ahs #james march gif #james march #james march imagine #james March smut #ahs imagines #ahs imagine #ahs smut #American horror story imagine #American horror story smut

[tomtenadia]

A Little Braver  - 16

So, here we are with part 16. Be prepared for the olympics of fussing. Our bird boy goes all out to fuss and take care of his girl. And Aelin fusses about him too because Rowan is not well either.

CW: light mention of alcoholism, death, hurt/comfort and some light smut.

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

Rowan’s phone had pinged with a message and like a desperate man he had grabbed it from his pocket and stopped in his tracks and his heart raced.

It was a text from Aelin.

I am sorry.

That’s all she had said. What did she mean by that? Was she okay? Was she sorry because she had left? Or worse done something insane?

His brain was in overload on his way back to his office, all sorts of thoughts rushing all together, including some very dark ones. She could never… she would never do that.

He looked at the time on the message and saw it had just been sent so he tried his luck and phoned her. His heart loosened a notch when the phone rang.

Please… please answer me.

“Hi.”

Gods, she sounded terrible. He could tell just by one word.

“Aelin… are you okay?”

Silence.

“Please, where are you? We are all worried sick.”

She told him an address.

“I will be there soon. I am coming.”

“Ok,” was all she managed and as soon as he closed the call she felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe, maybe with him at her side she would get better.

Rowan called Aedion straight away “I am going to her. I will keep you posted.”

“Wait, I want to come as well.”

“No,” said Rowan quite sternly “It’s best if I go alone. I am not sure she is okay and two people might be too much.”

The man on the other side of the phone sighed “I understand. Just… just look after her, please.”

“Always.” Said Rowan, realising the weight of his words.

On his way out of the office he met Gavriel and explained him what happened and that he had to go and had no idea when he was coming back. He was glad he had met Gavriel instead of Lorcan. The man would have given him so much grief for putting her again in front of his career, but he could not care less. Aelin was not okay and finding her was all he cared about. His job was, again, at the bottom of his priorities in that moment.

“Go, look after her and don’t worry about work.” The man patted Rowan on the shoulder.

“Thank you.”

He walked quickly out of the base, fearing someone else might stop him. Got to his car and drove home. He got changed out of his uniform, packed some clothes, he had no idea how long he would be there, she might not be ready yet to go back home and he was not leaving her alone again. 

Once he was done he got back to the car, entered the location in the sat nav and started driving. She had gone deep in the Staghorms mountains. She had hidden away properly. No one would have thought of that.

The drive had been nerve-racking and the trip seemed endless. The mountains were getting closer but not fast enough and he was already one the verge of the speed limit. He needed to be with her quickly. The voice over the phone was still haunting him. It was lifeless and flat and it had terrified him. 

Please be safe, he kept repeating in his head, please be safe, please.

It was finally two hours later when he spotted the signs for the holiday park she had mentioned. She had told him cottage 21. He followed the signs on the path and eventually spotted it and her car outside. He took a deep breath, parked the car and grabbed his stuff. The few steps to the door felt endless, then he gathered his resolve and knocked at the door. 

A minute passed and finally the door opened and he almost gasped at the image in front of him. She looked like a wreck, dark shadows under her eyes, now devoid of their usual light. She had a blanket wrapped around her and it looked as if she could barely stand. 

How could have he missed how bad she was? He should have pushed to stay at home a little longer and go and see someone as soon as he noticed the first signs of ptsd. He was an idiot.

Aelin looked up at him, then her face broke and burst into tears and leaned against his chest. Rowan’s arms went quickly around her body and held her tight “I am here,” he whispered to her while kissing her head “I got you.” He stepped inside, without ever letting go of her, dumped his bag on the floor and closed the door. Then he lifted her in his arms and walked to the bed and deposited her down.

He toed off his shoes and joined her. Aelin nested in his arms, letting him envelope her fiercely. She grabbed his t-shirt and cried.

“Let it go. Let it all out.”

And she did and he let her, whispering only I love you from time to time.

Eventually she fell asleep in his arms but never said a word. She would talk when she felt like. He was definitely not going to push her. Slowly and carefully he disentangled himself from her and went to his next mission. The cottage had a kitchen and he doubted she had used it. There were a few dishes in the sink that he washed and stowed away. Then he opened the fridge and noticed a couple of ready meals and nothing else. He knew she could not cook. 

Rowan sighed. He really had to teach her. He grabbed his phone and searched for a place where to buy groceries in the area. Once he found it he scribbled down a note to her just in case she woke up and found him gone.

Rowan came back thirty minutes later and found Aelin still asleep. Good.

He went to the kitchen and unpacked all the food he had bought. She needed some sustenance and he was planning to bring her back to her former self and food was the way to start. He knew she had not cooked for herself and probably survived on junk food. 

A sound came from the bedroom and he went to have a look and found her awake and sitting in bed.

She was staring at him in disbelief “You are really here?” Her voice still haunted.

He took a step to her “Yes, I am here,” and sat down beside her, caressing her face gently. She leaned into the gesture “I thought it was a dream.”

A gentle kiss on her lips “I am really here.”

Aelin bowed her head “I am sorry I—” he stopped her.

“Shhhh. It’s okay.” Another caress “I am making lunch. We eat first, then if you feel like, we can talk.”

He stood again and walked to the kitchen and Aelin, still wrapped in her blanket, padded behind him. 

Seeing her that broken hurt him deeply. She walked to his side and hugged him at his waist, leaning her face on his arm. He let her and went back to cooking without moving her. It felt as if she was craving contact with him and he was not going to deny that to her, no matter how awkward it made cooking.

“It smells lovely.”

“Better than those ready made meals.” He gave her a smile and her head went back to his arm.

With his free hand he grabbed a piece of the carrots he was slicing and passed it her.

“It’s a vegetable.” She complained.

“Yes, and you need it. Your body needs it.” He pushed and Aelin finally took it.

“So bossy.”

He stooped down and kissed her and gave her a slice of chicken and she took that as well and more eagerly “Thank you for cooking for me.”

“It’s fine. If I don’t do it you will just keep eating those horrible meals.”

She snuggled closer “but they are easy to make.”

“I know, but now you have me and cooking for you makes me happy.” And he looked down in her blue eyes and sadness hit him again. He could not stand seeing her so broken. 

“Do I?”

“What?”

“Have you?” She asked him, staring in his pine green eyes.

“Yes,” he said softly kissing her lips “To whatever end, remember?”

Aelin nodded and dried her eyes with the back of her hand “Come on grampa, this lady here is starving.” And she gave him a very faint smile. It was a start. She was trying and for now it was enough. It would take time and he’d at her side during her recovery.

Once he was done they sat at the table and ate in silence.

“Is Aedion mad at me?” She asked timidly while eating his amazing meal. She had not realised how hungry she was until she had Rowan’s food in front of her.

“Worried, mostly.”

“I didn’t mean—” but he stopped her again.

“Eat, relax, then we can talk all you want.”

Once they were done, Rowan washed all the dishes and Aelin helped him to dry them and put them away, making small talk.

Dishes all clean and tucked away, Aelin took his hand and guided him to the bed. He sat down with his back against the board and she snuggled against him. She finally abandoned the blanket and let his arms do the job.

“I am sorry I left,” she started “I was…” she took a deep breath. Where to begin? How could she even begin explain to him how she had felt? “I was happy to go to back to work. It felt good, I was ready, but there was, deep down in me, a lingering fear and I ignored it.” He let her talk and she tried to gather her thoughts “Once I was at the station it became too much. The interactions but worst of all, the memories. I had a panic attack before getting to the station. Then I had one in my office and freaked out after the guys left. The look on their faces, the sadness reminded me that I almost died. The bells almost rang for me this time.” His arms tightened “every time I wake up from a nightmare all I can feel are my lungs and skin burning and the feeling of suffocating. And I burn. Every time I burn.” She gently touched her injured arm “when they left for the call the sirens brought me back to that night and in a moment I was in that hangar again. Stuck. Lost. Burning.” Aelin paused but Rowan never interrupted her. “I was not okay. I knew it. You told me over and over again to go and speak to someone but I didn’t want to admit that I needed help.” He felt her shaking “I put up walls as I did when Sam died and I left. I thought that being alone was going to help but it got worse. I felt lonely and lost like the night of the fire when I got trapped.” She felt his lips on her head “I wanted to call you but after the way I left I could not face you. I was terrified you’d be mad at me and leave me because you had realised I was too much bother and I was not worth the trouble.”

“Never.” He finally whispered “I went insane because I had no way to be with you and help you.”

“I hurt everyone.”

His finger lifted her chin “you did not. We all care about you. We were just worried.”

“I can’t go back yet. I just can’t.” Her face again hiding in the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay,” he told her and kissed her nose “we’ll go back when you feel ready.”

“You don’t have to stay.”

“No chance I am leaving here on your own while you are like this. No. My job, everything else can wait and if Lorcan suspends me again, who cares.”

“You are risking to ruin your career to look after me. Lorcan made that quite clear.” She looked up in his eyes and they were full of sadness.

He loosened a breath and leaned his head against the back of the bed “I already neglected one woman because of my job. I didn’t realise how much until I found out the divorce papers. It’s not happening a second time.”

“But—” he shut her up with a kiss.

“I am struggling at work at the moment with Fuzzy’s death and all that is going on I…” he paused “I have my own ghosts and I know how you feel just now.”

Aelin’s mind travelled back to the day she had watched him fly and Lorcan had mentioned about the fact that Rowan needed that day because the student’s death had reminded him of his dark moment “Tell me,” she whispered to him, caressing his face. He had listened to her, now it was her turn. 

“It was my first year as instructor. I had this amazing group of students. They were all very eager to impress. There was one of them “Carrot” who was a bit on the shy side. He was skilled. He was good, but always felt less skilled than the rest of the class. He would never give himself enough credit of how good he was. So I had a chat with him. I told him I believed in him and that I wanted him to believe in his skills a bit more.” He caressed her head in an absent minded motion “I pushed him to dare a bit more. Not much, as long as he was comfortable, but I told him I knew he had skills and I wanted him to be a bit less other people’s shadow for once.” Rowan’s hand tightened on her back “One day during practice I put him in charge of his group. I wanted him to have more confidence. And boy was he good. He was one of those pilots who had a knack for flying. I was proud of him. Then it all happened in front of me in a matter of seconds. He was busy giving orders to his team that he flew through someone else’s wake and lost control of the plane. I tried to help him recover as much as I could but the plane started spinning and soon got into a graveyard spiral. He probably lost consciousness and he crashed on the runaway in a ball of fire.” He finished his tale and was silent for a moment “he reminded me so much of Fuzzy. They were both similar and shy boys with great talent. Carrot’s death destroyed me. I went into my own personal graveyard spiral. I was put on leave and I started drinking heavily. It was a bit before I met Lyria. I was alone and I just hid at home denying my pain and staying away from my squadron mates. I pushed everyone away. Gavriel in the end was the one who helped me to find my way back, after he found me on the floor of my own house verging on alcoholic coma. I know how you feel right now. It took me a while to find the courage to go back, to fly again. I knew it was not my fault but I kept thinking that I was the one who pushed him.”

She turned to him and kissed him “we have in common more than I thought.”

“We can both hide away for a while. I know it’s the coward way but I don’t care just now.”

Rowan nodded “let’s take a week to ourselves.”

Her hand sneaked under his t-shirt and touched skin “I like your plan, captain.”

Rowan shuffled away and got off the bed “let me make a couple of phone calls,” he leaned forward for a kiss.

Rowan returned ten minutes later and found Aelin reading a book. She still looked haunted but the decision of staying at the cottage for another week had removed a bit of the harsh lines in her face. He realised that probably they both needed that break. Lorcan had been strangely quite okay with him taking time off and for a second he thought he heard misheard him. But no, apparently he had his CO’s blessing.

He had also phoned Aedion and given him an update on Aelin. Told him that she was having a hard time but that he was going to help her and that they would stay away for a week. The man had eventually relaxed.

“All okay?” She asked him when he got back from his phone calls.

“All fine. I also called Aedion and told him I got you. He was very relieved.”

She cuddled back into him once he sat back on the bed “he was trying to help so much, but I didn’t want to worry him. He fusses about me just as bad as you do.”

“He cares about you, madly.”

“I know. We grew up together and he always protected me. He has always been at my side and I owe him so much.”

“I can take you out hiking, if you want. I think fresh air and nature will do you good.”

She looked at him in surprise “really?”

He nodded tenderly “I know a few paths around here. Easy stuff since we don’t have the proper gear.”

“Yes,” she said happily and for a brief instant her smile was back and Rowan realised he’d do anything to see that. He’d move the world to see her smiling and happy. He didn’t want to see ever again the shell of a woman he had seen that morning.

“Good, but today you rest. You’ll have another decent meal tonight and hopefully an easy night.”

“As long as we cuddle….”

Rowan snorted “as if I could stop you. You always end up asleep on top of me and I have all your hair in my mouth. Hurricane.” And he flipped her nose and she loved when he did that. It was such a silly gesture but it was the affection behind it.

“What?” He asked her at her curious expression.

“I just…. I just can’t believe sometimes that you are the same guy that could barely laugh at my jokes when we met all these months ago. I mean my bra joke was epic and you ignored it.”

Rowan pulled her closer in for a deep kiss “I did not. They day I went to get you clothes I opened your underwear drawer by mistake and saw a bra. You have no idea of the thoughts that crossed my mind.” He squeezed tenderly “and I had no idea I was capable of falling so quickly and so hard for someone. It was the way you stood up to me the day of the fire. You left me speechless and no woman before managed to do that.”

“Not even Lyria?”

He shook his head “some friends introduced us and played a bit of matchmaking. I liked her, she was nice, but it was a slow burn. She was very quiet and to be honest she was the complete opposite of you. She loved gardening, cooking, baking and absolutely no love for adventure.”

“Sam and I met on a call. When Dorian became chief, Sam got promoted. I saw him other times we had worked on calls together, but there was so much to do that we never interacted. Then one evening we had this horrendous fire, once he made captain, and we worked together with the two squads. Next time we had both a day off he invited me for coffee. We hit it off straight away. He was the sweetest man ever. He was kind and funny. Sometimes when we were on the job he used to make dirty jokes to make me laugh.”

“He sounded like a great guy.”

“I miss him so much.” She confessed quietly “and I think all my problems right now are also bringing back memories of his death.”

Rowan brushed a rebel strand of hair from her face “how did it happen?”

“An explosion in a warehouse. He was near it. He just…” a sob escaped her and she quickly placed a hand on her mouth “he was near it. He burned. His burns were too severe and he did not survive. I didn’t get to see him one last time. When we arrived, Thomas stopped me before I could see his him. But when I saw the body covered by the white sheet I knew it was him. His right hand had come free and I spotted the ring I gave him and that he wore on his thumb.”

Rowan’s arms brushed her back. That could have been her, a part of him kept telling him. But he pushed the anguish away.

Aelin took a deep breath and brushed her tears away “I think it’s enough dark stories for one day.”

He smiled at her “I agree.”

“Fancy watching stupid tv shows and make fun of them?”

He raised an eyebrow in question.

“It’s fun.” She grabbed the remote and started flipping through the channels “look,” she pointed to the tv “it looks like it’s pilots. Wanna see if it’s correct? I like watching shows with firefighters and spot the mistakes.”

“Your idea of fun is weird.”

Rowan sat comfortably against the head of the bed and Aelin took her place between his legs. She pulled her blanket to her and his arms wrapped around her waist.

“The whole point of the game is to be loud when you see mistakes.” She explained him.

“Oh well, what he just did? It breaks so many rules I can’t even start.”

Aelin’s hands went on his on her tummy.

“What an idiot. He just let himself and his wingman completely exposed. If we did that during training we would get sent back to flight school.”

She felt like laughing.

“Go on, buzzard. That’s the spirit.”

“Ok, if you do that in real life you are an idiot. They are clearly flying at high altitudes and you do not remove the mask. No matter how much you want to celebrate winning the dogfight. If for any reason the cockpit loses pressure you don’t have much left.”

“Ro, we are only half an hour in. This movie sucks.”

He shrugged “the planes are quite awesome though. I think they are a mix of different real ones.”

“Ok, the actor is definitely not my type but I must admit that those jump suit of yours make you all so much sexier.”

Rowan roared with laughter then went back watching the movie but not following the plot. His hands had started tracing lines up and down Aelin’s arms, she pushed her back deeper against his chest and his chin went on her shoulder.

He was enjoying this. It felt natural to have her in his arms and cuddle and make fun of stupid movies. She looked a bit better and he also noticed a very faint smile and he called it progress compared to what he saw in the morning. 

“Ok, the love interest has appeared. I bet they are having sex within twenty minutes.”

Rowan pointed at one character “he is going to die. I have a feeling. His callsign is flapjack.”

Aelin patted his hand “what about storm trooper?”

“Oh no, he is the villain. The antagonist. He will be humiliated at the end of the movie but he will not die.”

“It’s because they are the best pilots?”

“Actually they are terrible. Both of them. In real life they would not last five minutes.”

They watched the movie in silence for a while until Aelin felt Rowan tense all of a sudden. Then in the movie the afterburners of one of the pilots stopped working and he lost control.

Rowan stood quickly and left the house.

“Shit.” Apparently she was not the only one suffering. How could she have missed how bad it was for him as well? She had been so centred on herself that she had forgotten about him. Gods she was the worst girlfriend ever. He had been thoughtful and caring all while he was struggling as well.

She ran outside and found him sitting on the grass in front of the cottage, his head on his knees and his arms at its side. 

“Ro,” she kneeled at his side and brushed his hair “I am sorry. I am so, so, so sorry.” She felt tears sting her eyes.

He pulled her to him “why are you apologising?”

“I was so selfish. I was so wrapped up in my own mess that I forgot that you were going through some tough shit as well. I am the worst girlfriend ever.”

He leaned forward and kissed her “I love that.”

“What?”

“You calling yourself my girlfriend. I really love the sound of it.”

“Ro, are you okay?”

“I will be fine.” He brushed her off and then grabbed her and pulled her on the grass with him pulling her body on top of his.

Aelin stared in his eyes and still saw pain in them. He was not fine. Not even remotely, but he was being tough for her. He was pushing his pain away to be strong for her. They had to be strong for each other. 

She caressed his face and then kissed his nose “you can talk to me too, you know? It’s not just my walls that are bad. Yours too. I am here for you. We can take care of each other. Be a little braver day by day, together.”

“Kiss me.” Was all he said and she did. Avidly and deeply and he opened for her and she teased his lower lip with her teeth and his hands sneaked along her sides. Aelin straddled him properly and felt the bulge under his shorts. She kept kissing him and their tongues met. Her hands fisted in his hair and the moan that left her was a clear direction of where her thoughts had wandered. He rolled her over and pushed her off him. Aelin was about to protest but Rowan lifted her in his arms and ran back into the cottage.

She pulled him on top of her all the while grabbing his t-shirt to get it off him. They undressed each other in a frenzy of need and when Rowan was finally naked as well, Aelin grabbed him and pulled him on top of her. She needed him badly and had no time for foreplay. Not the first time around. 

From the way he positioned himself on top of her she knew he was feeling the same. 

“I need you…” she whispered in his ear and those words were Rowan’s undoing.

It had started to get dark when Aelin and Rowan finally lay exhausted in each other’s arms. The first time had been intense and mostly a way for both of them to forget in each other arms. The second one had lasted a bit longer and it was less a way of escaping and more one to find each other again. The third time had been the complete opposite. It had been long and sweet. Whispering sweet nothings to one another, taking their time to explore their bodies and drag the sweet apex from the other.

Rowan was staring at the ceiling while Aelin was sprawled on his naked chest.

“At least we know that in bed we are pretty epic. I am wiped. I mean, happy, very satisfied but wiped.”

She heard him chuckle gently, his hand travelled down and his fingers twinned with hers. The hand went to his mouth and he kissed it “I am exhausted too, but very, very satisfied.”

Her stomach grumbled and Rowan laughed “and that’s my clue.” He moved from underneath her and got off the bed and walked to the kitchen stark naked.

Aelin turned on her side and pillowed her head on her arm, staring at him wearing the apron but leaving his backside exposed. The scene was ridiculous.

“Sexy.”

He wiggled his backside and Aelin giggled. The man was perfect. His body was muscular and thanks to his strict diet and exercise regime he didn’t have a gram of fat on him.

“How hungry are you? Back to your normal levels?”

“Almost.”

He smiled, that was a great sign. Her appetite was coming back “I’ll make a bit more just in case you are still hungry after the first portion.”

While he cooked she stared at him in her cozy spot in bed under the blankets. She had spent four full days in bed and she had come to hate it, but now that he was with her it was perfect. Also, his scent of pine and snow was everywhere and she felt at home.

“Don’t fall asleep or you will miss dinner.”

“I can’t. If I sleep I will miss the beautiful view in front of me.”

He clenched his butt in response and Aelin laughed. It was a silly thing but it made her feel light hearted.

Once he was done cooking he walked to the bed with two bed trays and gave one to Aelin, then went back to get the food.

“Here we go, milady,” he gave her the food and got back to get his, then got rid of the apron and joined her in bed.

She turned her head to him “thank you for dinner,”

He just kissed her “eat.”

Once finished eating, Aelin stood and cleared all the dishes and loaded the dishwasher, then got back to him. He had the tv back on and was watching a cartoon.

She laughed. She really did not paint him like the type of guy to watch cartoons.

“What?”

“You are watching cartoons.”

He patted her side of the bed inviting her to join him again “they are fun.”

She curled against him and eventually they both fell asleep.

***

As usual Rowan was the first one up.

Aelin was curled at his chest and he was glad she had managed to sleep all through the night without any nightmares. He gently kissed her head and got off the bed. He went to his bag and grabbed a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and got dressed to go out for a run. 

Although it was full on spring, the air in the mountains was much cooler so he wore a hoodie as well. He got out of the cottage and took a moment to breath in the fresh air. The location was super peaceful and he realised he hadn’t done that in a very long time. He hadn’t slow down in what felt like forever. 

Another full breath and he left. He knew Aelin would be asleep still for a while if she had gone back to her standards. He had left her a note just in case. Behind their house there was a path leading into the woods and he took that setting himself up for a challenge. Off track running was far more challenging than on the pavement. But he welcomed it. Welcomed the opportunity to switch off his brain for a while. The path started to rise slightly as he got deeper in the woods. He could hear a river so he followed it. He spotted berries along the path and thought about coming back and pick them and make Aelin a nice cake with them. He continued along the river for a couple of kilometres until the roaring sound of the water increased and he noticed a gigantic waterfall, opening up in a pool at the bottom of it. The water was crystal clear and he was positive Aelin would love that. He could take her along that path. It was easy enough and she should manage it. 

Rowan sat along the path and stared at the scene for a while, then decided to climb down to water level. 

Once down he crouched and took a sip of the water and it was refreshing. He wetted his hair and face and climbed back up and slowly made his way back to the cottage. 

Half an hour later he was back at the cottage. Tired but he felt recharged at the same time. The run had been good.

Back in the house, Aelin was still asleep and he laughed but did not wake her up. She needed it pretty badly. So sneakily he padded to the bathroom and went for a much needed shower letting the warm water soothe the ache in his muscles. He chuckled when he realised that without Aelin to keep him company, his showers reverted back to the military efficiency of a run against time to finish before the hot water ran out. He grabbed a towel from the rack, patted his hair dry and then donned it around his waist. 

Still in a towel he walked to the kitchen and made breakfast and at the smell of food he heard Aelin wake up. 

“I smell food,” she said from the bedroom. A moment later she was behind him, wearing only the t-shirt she used as pyjama. Her arms around his waist “you were not in bed.”

“I went for a run.” He replied while concentrating on cooking “French toast is fine?”

“Aye, aye captain.”

“I found a nice easy path that we can walk along today.”

“Good, but I am mad at you.” She told him while caressing his naked back.

“Why?”

“You took a shower without me.”

Rowan chuckled “you were sleeping.”

“So, so rude.”

“Menace, sit down and grab some coffee.” He ordered her. 

Aelin gave him a mocking salute and filled two cups with coffee and took her place at the table.

“Did you had a nice sleep?” He asked worried. She had been quiet all night and that had been a good sign but she still didn’t look okay.

“I did, actually. I had no bad dreams or anything. I think it was you presence at my side. I felt safe in your arms.”

He gave her a big smile “do you feel up for a walk?”

Aelin nodded eagerly while taking a bite of her food “I need fresh air. I have been cooped up in here for too long.”

“Good, then finish your food.”

An hour later they were outside in front of the cottage.

Aelin had a pair of shorts, a t-shirt and a hoodie. Rowan had convinced to wear something warm. He loved to fuss.

He had the same attire and also a backpack filled with water bottles, lunch he had prepared and packed for both and for some reason unbeknownst to Aelin two towels as well. 

“Do you need all that stuff in you backpack? We are just going for a walk, not a mission on top of the Staghorns.”

“Always,” he said, walking in front of her “you do not go out on a walk in the woods without food, water and basic first aid supplies.”

He slowed down and got to her side and grabbed her hand “we have to do survival training while we are at flight school,” he told her “we had to learn to survive in the wilderness in different types on environments and also in a very cold climate. Also how to survive in an enemy zone and what to do if we get captured.”

She looked at him stunned and a part of her ignored the last words. Captured meant to be in enemy hands and possibly torture. For a brief second she felt sick at the image of him in an enemy cell being beaten up. Quickly she brushed the bad thoughts away. 

“It’s in case we suffer a malfunction and we are forced to land. We need to be prepared for anything and to know how to make it out alive.” He had continued while she zoned out.

“So if we get lost in the woods you would know how to keep us alive?”

He nodded. 

“Damn, you are more useful than I thought.”

Rowan roared with laughter.

Then they reached the area with all the berries and stopped Aelin and he walked to one of the bushes. He grabbed a plastic container from his backpack and started picking berries.

“What are you doing?”

“They are berries, I saw them during my run. I will make a cake.”

Aelin walked to him and he offered her a blueberry “Are you sure they are edible?”

He rolled his eyes “yes, Fireheart.”

He opened his palm to her and offered her a few more. They tasted delicious.

Rowan went deeper into the bushes but Aelin did not follow. She sat on the side of the path and waited for him to come back.

He did so twenty minutes later with an air of satisfaction on his face. In his hands she noticed the container full of different berries and in his other hand a smaller one “this one is for snacking.” And he passed her the smaller container.

Aelin then noticed his legs covered in cuts “your legs.”

“Ah it’s nothing, the bushes have thorns. There’s a river appearing quite soon I’ll wash there.”

The path wound among the trees and they slowly walked enjoying the fresh air and the peace “it smells like you.”

Rowan looked at her with curiosity.

“You smell of pine and snow and right now we are surrounded by pine trees and it just smells like you.”

He gave her a gentle kiss and they kept walking until he heard the sound of the river and he knew the surprise would come soon enough.

“It’s so beautiful out here.” Rowan turned to her and saw her serene face and he relaxed. The walk had been a good idea.

“Come on. We are not there yet.”

She skipped a few steps in front of him and his heart melted. She looked as carefree as when he met her but a part of him was wondering if that was a mask she was putting on for him.

She peeked beyond the trees and saw the river flow down in the valley “can we go down?”

He took her hand again “be patient.”

She huffed a puff and kept walking at his side and Rowan could tell she was getting restless.

“Fine,” he yielded. “There is a majestic waterfall down the road. Race me to it?”

She gave him the most amazing grin “you betcha. See you there, grampa.” And she sprinted, leaving him behind. 

Rowan raced after her and not long after he had caught up to her, most likely thanks to his long legs. He had also a backpack but that did not stop him from taking over and eventually reaching the waterfall before her.

She arrived a couple of seconds later and bent over, hands on her knees “you…” she was breathless “have long legs. Not…” another breath “fair.”

He chuckled and helped her up “look,” he said pointing at the waterfall.

Aelin followed his finger and gasped amazed. The waterfall was tall and fierce. The spray created a beautiful rainbow and at the bottom there was a pool of the most crystal clear water she had ever seen.

“Let’s go down.” She grabbed his hand and pulled.

Carefully they made their way down and as soon as they were at water level, Aelin ran to the pool and went on her knees to play with the water. It was chilli but so gorgeous. She tasted a palmful and it was super refreshing. Rowan joined a minute later and sat beside her “what do you think?”

Aelin stared at the gigantic waterfall “so stunning.” Then she stood and started peeling off her clothes.

“What are you doing?”

“There is no way I am not taking a swim in this paradise. We did it in Doranelle and this is so much better.”

“It was also much warmer.”

“Up to the challenge, captain?” Aelin was now towering over him completely naked, her long blond hair unbound.

Rowan stood in silence and undressed in front of her, meeting her wanton smile.

“Come,” she said to him offering him her hand.

Step by step they entered the water which was not as cold as Rowan expected. The pool was exposed to the sun and quite shallow, allowing the water to warm up a bit.

They walked to the centre and then he sat down on the bed and wiggled a finger to Aelin. She joined him and straddled him “you brought the towels. You knew this would happen.” Her hands brushed his hair and angled his neck so he was looking up at her.

“I saw the pool this morning and I thought at how naughty we could be in it.”

“I like the way your mind works.” She kissed him and pushed her naked body closer to his. She stood on her knees and she felt his hands grab her buttocks. One of his fingers traced lazy circles around her core teasing her. Aelin lowered herself down to him, grinding against his finger.

His free hand went around her neck and pulled her mouth close to his “I need you… to touch you, to kiss you… to be inside you…” his voice rough with desire.

“Then go ahead, captain. Fuck me senseless.”

Rowan stood in a swift motion and lifted her in his arms, her legs wrapped around him. He moved toward the waterfall to one side with less water and walked under the water and behind it and Aelin noticed a small cave.

“Privacy,” he told her once through and moved against the rock wall, pinning her body against it.

“Now, where were we?” His breath tickled her neck and she felt his tongue tracing the length of it. With one arm he held her up whilst the other slithered down along her thigh, between her legs were the proof of her desire was there for him to feel. The tip of a finger found its way inside her and Aelin closed her eyes and once the whole finger eased into her a moan left her lips. His head tipped down and took one of her hardened peaks in his mouth. Aelin’s back arched and her lower abdomen felt the proof of his growing desire. Aelin moved against his hand and he responded by adding a second finger and curling them inside her reaching that hidden spot.

“Fuck.” His thumb brushed her clit and Aelin was glad she was in his arms because she doubted she’d be able to stand. His free hand grabbed her leg “both of them around my waist,” he told her against her mouth.

“Please…” she told him her hands on his back, pulling his body closer.

His fingers left her and for a moment she missed their presence inside her. His hands went to her hips and angled her and she felt his tip nudge at her entrance. A moment later he eased fully into her and stilled for a few seconds letting her enjoy the feeling of him filling her. Gently he pulled out and slammed into her straight away, Aelin’s nails leaving half-moon marks on his back.

“You feel sooo…” another thrust “perfect. So bloody perfect.” She angled her hips sightly and at the next thrust she screamed in pleasure. They kept the rhythm steady until she felt her body ready to tip over the edge. Her muscles tightening around him. He groaned and his lips kissed her hard.

“Aelin—” her orgasm swept over her like a river that had broke its banks, powerful and strong. She felt him pick up his speed prolonging her high until he joined her as well in blissful oblivion and eventually relaxed spent against her.

Aelin turned her head and kissed the corner of his mouth “I scratched your back,” she added apologetically, hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

“For this?” He kissed her, never putting her down “totally worth it.” 

He moved away from the wall and started walking back to the pool and both sat back in the water.

Aelin pulled away from him and swam in the crystal waters while he sat with his back against the edge of the pool and looked at her.

She stood in provocation “seen anything you like, captain?”

“Go back swimming, menace.”

Aelin laughed and splashed him playfully then went back to enjoying the water.

Rowan on the other hand, left and went to the bank and started drying himself up and getting dressed again.

“Spoilsport.” She shouted at him when she saw him leave the pool.

“You should get out too, you don’t want to get too cold. The sun is moving and the pool is going into the shadows, it will get cold soon.” He pulled out her towel and opened up for her “come on,”

She stood and went to him. Rowan enveloped her in the big towel and then used his one to brush her hair dry as much as he could. Once she had clothes on as well he moved them to a patch in the sun and they sat back down “Sit here, it’s sunny and it will help you dry your hair.”

She obeyed him and then saw Rowan open his backpack and pulling out all of his stuff. He had water bottles, a thermos with coffee, the tub with the berries and two tubs with their lunches inside.

She always felt spoiled by the care he showed to her. She had to find a way to repay him.

“Eat.”

It was much later in the afternoon when they finally got back to the cottage. After the pool and the waterfall they had continued along the path and deeper into the woods and they did a super long circular walk that in the end brought them at the entrance of the holiday park.

“I am exhausted,” she complained sitting on the bed. Rowan stopped in front of her and kissed her nose “you have freckles and your face is nice and red, you have some colour on you.”

Not like the shell of a woman he had seen the day before with pale lips and dead eyes.

She extended her arms to him “kiss,” she begged but he walked away grinning without her seeing him.

“Whitethorn,” she barked.

He turned and gave her a chaste peck on the lips but her hands grabbed the back of his head and pulled him closer.

“Thank you.”

“For the kiss?”

She shook her head “for being here. For not giving up on me. For finding me.”

He kissed her softly “I will always find you.”

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp​

@jlinez​

@swankii-art-teacher​

@courtofjurdan​

@whimsicallyreading​

@tillyrubes10​

#rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #aelin galathynius #fluff #angst #Throne of Glass series

[jangmi-latte]

I feel so awkward doing this even anonymously but I have an NSFW one-shot request for Idia. (Cause I feel like there isn't enough of him) The reader feeling ignored by Idia while hes playing a game(maybe multiplayer and thats why he can't pause?) and them deciding to get his attention by giving him a blowjob. ...This killed me to ask cause I'm on a similar level of awkward to Idia himself. T~T

❝ 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞! ❞

➻ content: this is a cafe...where did the nintendo switch and keyboard come from...

➻ warnings: nsfw, blowjob // added disclaimer: idia gave consent! if someone dares come to attack me that what reader did was wrong, then please try and re-read the words that will come out of idia's mouth. thank you c:

➻ comments: i think this is my second shroud i. request. anyways, darling anonie, when you gotta be a hoe, you gotta be a hoe. especially with these twst bois? dear me, you can’t avoid that. sometimes, this cafe turns into a strip club and honestly, who am i to complain? i really need more background on shroud’s character. he’s hard to grasp, y’know? and THIS is what made me research and interview my friend with dicks...

“By the left—there! I got him!”

How long has it been? Not like you have counted. You have never felt so sexually frustrated and irritated to the point of glaring at the back of your boyfriend’s head. It has been three hours—three hours as you may think—since he has last given you attention. Too occupied on his game as if his life depended on it— as he always says. You exhaled through your nose and crossed your arms. “Idia,” you called. 

No response.

“Idia,” you called out louder.

Still none. The continuous clicks of his gamepad pissed you off even more. He would have gone deaf with how loud his volume was. Did you regret letting him play his game even when he said he would just battle the boss level with a friend of his? Yes. Greatly. In exchange, you were left to your own devices. Especially with how bothered you are with your panties being damped.

You shouldn't have read that erotica while waiting for your boyfriend. What if you masturbated in front of him, would he notice you? The chances are low. Your teeth nibbled on your lower lip, eyes never leaving Idia's form. Irritating as it may be, he just wore a black tank top and sweatpants. Who are you to complain? It was rare for him to show some skin. 

Eyes started to drift lower, down to his neck, on to his broad shoulders, and down to his hips. Your teeth dug into your lower lip harder. He was hard. A gamer boner surely does exist and the size of his bulge has made your thighs squeezed together. Your vagina tingled and pulsed with your throat drying up in desperate need. 'Idia, please pay attention to me...'

What if you try to catch his attention again in a different way?

Quietly as possible, you crawled on all fours. He was immensely distracted. Nothing can bother him with all his attention focused on his game. You manoeuvered yourself under his desk and in between his spread-out legs. Your heartbeat raced as you come face to face to his boner. Your eyes looked at him, still no reaction. Your hand went up to his thigh, rubbing his lap sense fully. He jolted. His eyes immediately shooting towards you who is in between his knees.

“y/n...?!” he whispered yelled, shocked and flustered. Idia may be an introverted nerd, but he wasn’t dumb. He knows what you’re implying. He noticed his boner– embarrassed and ultimately turned on already. You smiled and laid your head on his knee, innocently humming out the words, “Do you want me to help you?”

The way he sharply swallowed made you pull on your lower lip. “Idia? Are you okay?” you asked. Were you doing something wrong, you wonder? Maybe it was a bad idea to catch his attention like this–. 

“Please...”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. He looks adorable, so vulnerable. No holding back now. You wanted him, he gave you consent, you follow your desires. Swiftly and skillfully his pants and boxers went down to his thighs. His cock sprang out of its restraints, your hand wrapping around him.

The choked gasp that welcomed your ears made you giggle. His panicked yellow eyes instantly looked down at you. Speechless, flustered, and most possibly horny.

"You still there, man?" came from the player in his headphones

Sharply inhaling, Idia replied, "Y-Yes." He continued on with his game, trying as much as he can to ignore you as he shifted his attention back to playing. His adam's apple bobbed with every swallow he did, cheeks a dark red, eyes moving everywhere, and yet did he stop you? No.

You shifted back to looking at his cock, precum was starting to spill out of his tip already. You breathed out through your nose as you stuck your tongue out to collect his liquid that dripped down his length. Oh fuck. Your libido has risen higher. Your patience has worn thin.

Air expanded your lungs before you leaned forward, pushing your head down as his cock occupied your mouth. Your hand pumping the remaining base that wasn't able to fit. Idia shakily inhaled, hissing as his hands quivered around the controller. It would be embarrassing to let out a noise so wanton. Be naughty, Idia. This is what your imagination has been craving for. Your body to be swallowed in pleasure you have been ignoring.

You moaned as you pulled your head back before pushing him back into your mouth. Your hand moving along with the bobs of your head as you slowly yet deliciously sucked him off. Letting him feel the drag of your tongue on his base before rubbing on his tip. More precum dripped into your mouth, greedily licking it off as the tip of your tongue grazed against his slit.

Idia slammed his head against his headrest and panted as quietly as he can. He can’t make it obvious he’s getting blowjobbed. “Dude, dude he’s by the corner!” Concentrating as hard as he can, he looked back at the screen. Letting his eyes peek down at you and back at his game. They’re almost done. So close to victory.

You felt him harden more. He was too erect, you could sense him nearly reaching his high. Opening your lips, you engulfed his penis and sucked him off. Your cheeks hallowing yet your head moving up and down so painfully slow. Your eyes looked up at him, making eye contact for a brief second before he looked away again. You wanted to taste his cum and leave him begging for more. Being bold, yes. That’s the fun of having him multitask. Before you finally spread your legs, 

You have to make him cum first.

 You released him from your mouth, a string of precum and saliva stretching from his cock to your lips. You hand pumped him erratically, your lips rubbing against his shaft, and your fingers trailed down to massage his balls. Idia’s mind was growing hazy, his hips were thrusting subconsciously at every touch he felt on his sensitive cock. He was close. So close, and you haven’t even gone all out yet.

“I-I...Just o-one shot left..!” Idia grunted out. His thumbs diligently began pressing harder on the controller keys. You hummed and moved your hand back to his tip, thumb circling around and pressing on his tip. “You can do it, Idia,” you purred and returned to sucking him off. Placing both hands on his thighs, you swallowed him wholely and fucked his cock with your mouth. Easily slipping him in as you moaned in delight with every thrust he tried to resist.

You can taste him already.

He was twitching in your mouth as you bobbed your head faster. Delighted to see him melt in pleasure as his rigged panting began to be more audible. One press, one attack. He got it. He nearly got it. Just one more shot.

“We did it man!”

He immediately removed his headphones and  covered his mouth as his hand reflexively held on your hair. Thick strings of his cum shooting in your mouth while you pulled away. White semen staining your face, neck, and chest as you watched his slit squirt out the remaining liquid. You swallowed and licked some that stained your lips before looking up at a wide-eyed Idia.

“What?”

“W-Why did you swallow?!” he screeched and covered his face. You look adorably devilish. Why would you just give him that look after sucking him off mid-game and swallowing his cum? You’ll be giving him a heart attack at this point. 

You grinned and wiped off the stains on your face. “That’s what you get for not paying attention to me.”

“We won bro. Let’s play again next time. I’m starving!”

How fortunate of you that Muscle Crimson did not hear anything that had just occurred..

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #diasomnia #pomefiore #savanaclaw #ignihyde #scarabia #octavinelle #heartslabyul #night raven college #ツイストワンダーランド #ignihyde x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #twisted wonderland scenarios #x reader #spicy delicacy

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 4021 Warnings: fluff, mentions of the Holocaust

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Thank you also to Ary (formerly @johnnynunzio) for helping me with information and resources for the history of Romani people during the Holocaust

PART 14 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Walking up the steps to the hospital becomes a little difficult as you zig-zag through groups of people trying not to hit anyone with your umbrella. Under the overhang of the building you shake it out after closing it, hoping the umbrella doesn’t drip too much on the floors as you make your way to the elevator.

It’s been a really wet day but you don’t mind it so much considering all this rain is supposed to bring beautiful flowers next month and the hope of something beautiful is exactly what you needed now.

It hasn’t been the easiest going to work every day. Metro-General is where you first met Billy and now that you’ve broken up it’s all you can think about every time you have to head down to the ER.

Wanda came over that night you got back from work and broke the news that she and Sam spotted Billy with another woman. You insisted on seeing the proof, the pictures being the final push in your decision to end things with Billy.

You admitted how things weren’t the same anymore, his attitude plus lack of caring when you were sick really made you reconsider your relationship. It had been a few days since you spoke to Billy but you wanted to call him out in person, meeting at a coffee shop to discuss things.

Confronting him was easier than you thought but watching him lie to your face was not. You had proof and he still accused you and your friends of lying just to make him look bad. After a small outburst he finally fessed up to seeing the woman named Krista. Billy didn’t tell you how long he had been cheating which pissed you off but you walked away feeling good about ending things.

It didn’t mean that you felt good. You knew that it was Billy’s loss but still, it didn’t feel good to be cheated on. You questioned everything. Was he lying from the beginning? Was work the real reason he had to cancel a few times? All of these questions made you doubt your self-worth.

Your friends were great after your breakup, each one of them there for you, readily offering up a chance to kick Billy’s ass if you let them. You all went out to celebrate how you “took out the trash,” round after round dedicated to your new freedom. But being surrounded by everyone in relationships didn’t make you feel the best, everyone except Bucky.

You might have had a little too much to drink that night and in a tearful drunken cry you might have asked him what was so wrong with you to make Billy cheat.

Bucky might also have had too much as he slurred his answer, but still he was insistent.

“There ain’t nothing wrong about you Y/N. Nothin’. Assholes like Billy treat the world like it belongs to them, like everything is up for the taking, no consequences apply. But he’s wrong and he lost the best thing to ever happen to him. You hear me? You’re the best thing that could happen t’anybody.”

You replay Bucky’s words in your mind as you pass by the nurses’ desk where Billy gave you his card. It was his loss.

Since the breakup you’ve been throwing yourself into work again. Dating Billy wasn’t a mistake, he just wasn’t the right person for you and after careful consideration you decided to chalk up those feelings you might have had towards Bucky towards all the care he gave you when you were sick. 

Bucky was your friend and a great one at that and so you made sure to fill your weekends by keeping a promise. You and Bucky began your pizza quest and it has been amazing. Your pants don’t quite agree with you but it’s definitely been worth it.

In between cases you responded to a text from Wanda. The exhibit she had been working on for The Jewish Museum is opening in a few weeks and she wanted to confirm you would be there. Like she really had to ask, of course you would.

Over the last few months she’s been working so hard on this and you couldn’t wait to be there to support her. Everyone was going and Sam made sure to take the day off.

Bucky: You up for a trek to Brooklyn?

The message caught you off guard but still brought a large smile to your face. You replied quickly asking what he was talking about and by the end of your shift it was decided; you and Bucky were going to Brooklyn for pizza. 

“I haven’t been here in forever,” Bucky said, while opening the door to Spumoni Gardens for you.

“These better be worth the two transfers Bucky. I am starving!”

You may have exaggerated a little but you were pretty hungry. Bucky insisted that you must try this famous pizza, arguing that Brooklyn is technically within the boundaries as part of your pizza quest. Semantics aside, you trusted that the hour long trip to get here would be worth it.

Spumoni Gardens was famous for their Sicilian pie and Bucky ordered one the moment you were seated. Soon enough twelve thick slices were laid out in front of you in the most interesting looking square of pizza you had seen before, with the sauce on top.

With a skeptical eye you squint at Bucky who urges you to take a bite, eagerly awaiting your response. There was no denying it, as you sank your teeth into the deliciously thick crust, with sauce and cheese hitting your taste buds like a pinball setting off lights and sound as it hits the winning targets.

A proud grin settled on Bucky’s face as he held up his own slice, taking a bite as he watched you dab at the bit of sauce in the corner of your mouth with a napkin. His eyes light up, raising his brows in a silent request for your opinion.

“So good.” Every bit of enthusiasm is behind the few words you’ve said, combined with the smile that stayed plastered on your face as you quickly took another bite, needing to taste the symphony of flavors again.

Bucky paid for everything despite your protests. He insisted that since you indulged him in his craving after a long day of work it was only fair. Side by side you slowly strolled back to the train, making a promise to come back for the spumoni when you haven’t stuffed yourselves full of pizza.

Conversation was always easy with Bucky, making the ride back home a breeze. When you reached your block you saw familiar faces headed towards the building.

“Hey guys,” Bucky greeted Clint and Natasha, as they walked with their arms linked to the door.

“We just had the best pizza!” you blurted out, unable to control your enthusiasm for the amazing dinner you had.

“Oh yeah, well we just had some shitty pasta.” Natasha playfully smacked Clint in the stomach for his blunt remark. “What? It wasn’t good!” he snarked.

“We just came back from a wedding expo,” she added.

Her lips were tense as they pressed together. They had been wedding planning for a while, not getting very far. Natasha’s work had set her back, which she didn’t mind since she was excelling professionally but it did require her and Clint to push back their wedding date a few times since they couldn’t commit to the time frame required.

“It’ll come together in time,” you said, offering a hopeful smile.

“All I know is Sonny Burch is not going to cater our wedding. That food was awful. Now tell me more about this pizza.”

Clint was practically drooling throughout the elevator ride as you and Bucky described the incredible pizza you had. After saying goodnight to them you and Bucky held back your laughter hearing Clint begging Natasha to go to Spumoni Gardens tomorrow as the elevator doors were shutting.

“Thanks for dinner Bucky,” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek before unlocking your door. “Oh wait! Hang on one second!”

As you went inside your apartment you missed the way Bucky touched his cheek, still feeling the tingle of your lips against his skin. A moment later you came out, handing him a wrapped present.

“For taking care of me last month when I was sick.”

“You didn’t have to Y/N.” He meant it, whatever it was you got him really wasn’t necessary but you insisted it was.

Your lips pressed together with excited anticipation, staring at Bucky with widened eyes as he began to tear off the wrapping. He held up the stretched white canvas rectangle with vertical lines of varied height going across it. He smiled kindly, unsure exactly what he was looking at which was fine, his gift needed a little explanation.

“It’s Herrmann’s Psycho score in soundwave form.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped open as he stared at the vertical lines that conveyed every beat, seeing the taller lines represent the higher strings, the greater tension of the score. It was so unique, so perfectly suited for him and he knew you truly understood who he was.

“I love it. Thank you so much Y/N.”

One arm wrapped around you as he held the artwork out of the way. This gift reaffirmed the feelings he felt for you, making it harder to deal with the fact that he wasn’t going to do anything about them.

After your break up with Billy you made it very clear that you were not interested in dating. This was not the time for him to open up to you. He didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t comfortable with so once again Bucky needed a distraction from his feelings. This is how he found himself back on the dating apps.

He finally went on a date with Bobbi, a few actually, only to find that the real chemistry they had was in the bedroom. The longer Bucky stared at the artwork you gave him the more he felt like calling her to help push aside you and thoughts of the amazing non-date that you had, but he knew she was out of town for the weekend.

Bucky’s too tired to get involved with calling someone else so instead he settled down in front of his keyboard. His fingers glide across the keys as he’s filled with inspiration, pouring his heart into a melody with you on his mind.

Wanda paced back and forth in her apartment, stopping each time to check her reflection in the scalloped mirror above her dresser when she passed it. The way she swept back the few loose tendrils of her now more conservative light brown hair wasn’t out of vanity but nerves, needing to do anything to stop the shakiness of her hands.

“Hey, everything’s going to be perfect. I promise you have nothing to worry about,” you said, offering open arms to Wanda.

She was so fidgety she was barely able to stay in your embrace for more than a second. Wanda couldn’t help it. Tonight was the opening of The Jewish Museum’s exhibit on The Holocaust and Wanda was extremely nervous. Knowing this day was so important to her, you took off from your internship, promising Elena you would make up the hours.

The buzzer of her doorbell rang and Wanda jumped with excitement. “Mom!” Wanda called out, running towards the door.

It had only been a few months since they saw each other but on a stressful day like this nothing comforted Wanda more than her mom.

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you sweetheart.” Marya wrapped her arms around you and it felt like home, and seeing her brought back all the memories of your youth with Wanda and Pietro.

It was impossible not to think about him, especially considering he shared so many features with his mom. Piet would have been so proud of Wanda today and amidst the hug you choke back the tears you felt forming.

Wanda needed to be at the museum early so you and Marya went for a light dinner first as she headed there. Catching up was easy and Marya told you how proud she was for all the hard work you’ve been putting in to get your degree. The passion behind social work was unspoken because she already knew how deeply you felt about the circumstances of Wanda and Pietro’s upbringing.

“I think about it sometimes… what could have been.”

The twinkle in her eye suggested she knew the childhood crush you harbored for her son. It wasn’t something you ever admitted before. Even Wanda didn’t know.

“Years ago I finally had the strength to go through his things. I may have found your names in a heart, scratched on what should have been his notes on American history.”

You brushed aside a tear that trickled down along the curved cheek from your smile. Piet hated history so doodling became a common way to pass the time, and knowing he felt the same doesn’t make it any easier in losing him.

Marya brought a napkin to her face to soak up her own tears. She apologized though you told her there was no reason to. “So tell me, are you seeing anyone?”

As you retold the story of putting off relationships while you earned your degree you saw her mouth pull into a frown.

“Don’t put your life on hold, you know how quickly things can change.”

Her advice didn’t feel like a lecture, and you knew you might have jumped the gun on calling off dating again; not everyone would be like Billy.

An intricately detailed archway leads you through the main doors and into the crowded lobby of the museum. It’s past the normal operating hours, premiering the exhibit for the media and friends and family first.  

You spot your friends gathered together in the corner and happily introduce them to Marya. Sam smiles a little wider as he introduces himself. “Yes, that Sam,” he replied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Bucky is wearing his long hair down, neatly tucked behind his ears and even in all black he stands out. The white printed pattern on his black button down shirt draws your eye to the velvet blazer that makes him look incredibly sophisticated.

“You look great,” Bucky said, as you both leaned in to press your cheeks against each other for a kiss.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you and the shine of your beige satin shirt. The delicate gold chain you wore draped lower than the V-neck cut and he let his eyes linger down your body, from the black pants that hugged your figure to the pointed black heels.

“Thanks, you look pretty good yourself. Ooh fancy,” you said, running your hands along his velvet lapel.

The chatter in the lobby grew for another ten minutes until you were directed to follow the group towards the exhibit. Marya was accompanied by Sam and both their faces lit up as they spotted Wanda, standing proudly beside a curtain that was drawn across the entry of the main room. Her eyes twinkled as she spotted them, you and everyone amongst the crowd.

A man not much taller than her walked in front of the curtain with a microphone in hand. He introduced himself as the museum’s director Phillip Coulson. Wanda had always spoken highly of him and you can see why. He was soft spoken with a kind smile, welcoming everyone to the exhibit.

“On the eve of Yom HaShoah we invite you to do what is asked, remember. We remember through stories, from letters that made it out while their writers did not. We remember through pictures, of people and the faces we strive to never forget, of discarded belongings left behind deemed as irrelevant as the lives of their owners. As we remember the decimation and destruction we also remember the endurance, the survival. We remember and we will never forget.”

A round of applause breaks through the crowd with the increased flashing of camera lights as Director Coulson gestures to Wanda who proudly draws open the curtain, opening the exhibit.

The large room is painted in a somber blue, as if the life had been sucked out of a once vibrant sky. It’s fitting. This is a place of reverence, surrounded by artifacts that tell a painful history.

There were three smaller rooms connected to the main area, each showcasing smaller exhibits, one of which you knew was the one Wanda was most proud of. She stood in front of it, awaiting her friends so you could walk through it together.

“It’s called The Ghosts of Genocide and it focuses on the Romani aspect of the Holocaust.”

Unlike the main room there were few displays. One wall was dedicated to Philomena Franz, the first Romani woman to document her experiences in the concentration camps. You read the information beside her photograph, “Zwischen Liebe und Hass” (“Between Love and Hate”) was her autobiography, the dichotomy of a happy childhood against the brutality of Auschwitz.

The next photograph was of Elena Lacková, a Slovakian Romani poet and playwright. “Holocaust Romů v povídkách” (“Holocaust of Roma in short stories”). A copy of the out of print book was behind a glass enclosure.

The large wall featured the paintings of Ceija Stojka, an Austrian Romani Holocaust survivor. You chew on your bottom lip tensely as you stare at the images. Simple ink depictions of dead bodies stacked in a haphazard pile like they were nothing more than logs meant for a fire. One image burns itself into your brain, “Mama in Auschwitz” the wide-eyed look of fear immortalized by the memory of a child.

“Wanda.” You clear your voice of the thickness that built up inside, the heavy lump that weighed on your chest from reading everything. “Forgive me if this sounds disrespectful but I thought you were supposed to incorporate the history of those who were Jewish and Romani.”

She sighed heavily. “I was but there are so many factors that play into the reason why I couldn’t; loss of information being a big one but also most people didn’t specify that they were Jewish. Obviously we know that some were but it was an issue of safety. They were already dealing with being Romani and the prejudices that came with that so they couldn’t come out with it. It’s why we have this.”

She turned you around to the far wall, glossy black tile shines against striking spotlights.

“But it’s blank.”

She nodded, pointing to the dedication. “For the countless, nameless Jewish-Romani lives lost.”

You reached out to touch the wall, your palm against the cold tile; the emptiness that contrasts so starkly in a place filled with history on every wall. And you suppose the lack of information is a lesson learned in history itself.

“This is pretty powerful stuff,” Bucky’s voice called out from behind you.

“Yeah. It is.” You didn’t have any more words.

When the night was coming to a close everyone went home quietly. Wanda’s achievements would be celebrated another night. It was comfortably silent as you and Bucky left the elevator. The unexpected feeling of your arms wrapping around him for a hug was surprising but nice and he deepened the action, firmly pulling you closer to the soft fabric of his blazer.

“Sweet dreams Y/N,” he whispered before you went inside.

That night Marya’s words replayed in your mind and after the exhibit’s reminder on how precious life is you promise yourself to be open to whatever the future brings.

Golden hues begin to creep in on the blue sky ahead of you. As the day starts to wind down the city doesn’t stop. Construction is contained by go-away green walls, with orange and white barricades used to redirect traffic on the busy street. Brake lights flare as the cars begin honking incessantly at the driver going far too slow for the city’s standards.

You see it all from the observation deck of the High Line, accompanied by Bucky and a dozen other people enjoying the first weekend of warmth. You climb the stairs away from the crowd and find a bench beside a small tree.

Bucky opens the box he’s been carrying for a while, revealing two unique and delicious doughnuts that you couldn’t wait to try.

“What’s the square one again?” you asked, licking your lips in anticipation.

“Blackberry jam, and the other is rose I think?” his voice raises with uncertainty. “It looks like a rose at least.”

That it did. The dough was shaped to look like a rose in bloom, with a pink glaze over it. Both were tempting you and the decision was tough but you chose to try the jam filled doughnut first. Hands made sticky by the glaze, you tried your best to pull it apart evenly for Bucky to have an equal share.

Your head nodded in approval as you tasted the sweetness of the jam, mixed perfectly with the airy dough. “This is good,” you said, with your hand hovering over your mouth as you continued to chew through your words.

Bucky brushed his fingers down the corners of his mouth, wiping them on a napkin afterwards and you laughed to yourself. When you were ready Bucky presented the rose shaped doughnut to you as if he was handing over a bouquet.

“How sweet,” you feigned sweetness, bringing your hands together in your best impression of a Disney princess pose.

He let you rip off the first piece of the doughnut, finding it had come apart in a small crescent which was fine, you weren’t sure you could eat much more than that.

Bucky cleared his throat as the glaze melted against his fingers. “So, uh, I have something to ask you.” His nerves stilled momentarily as you hummed in response, sucking the glaze off your fingers.

“Will you be my date to my cousin’s wedding?”

You weren’t sure what he was going to ask but this was definitely not what you imagined. It surprised you especially considering the long list of available women he had to choose from and you couldn’t help but ask him that.

“Them? No. They’re not good enough to bring to a wedding,” he replied.

“Bucky that’s horrible!” you playfully scoffed.

His head dropped down, cringing at his words. “I didn’t mean it like that! I don’t really know any of ‘em that well, and it would be nice to have a friend with me and just have fun.”

Thoughts were running through your head faster than you could process them. Being asked to be Bucky’s date seemed like a dream come true. Yes, despite losing hope in dating after what you went through with Billy it didn’t stop the crush you had on Bucky from growing. But your mind stopped your heart from indulging in its fantasy, reminding you that Bucky legitimately had a long list of women to choose from and you were one of many.

His reasons for asking you made sense, you were very close and sometimes you questioned Bucky’s intentions. He’s never made you feel uncomfortable, it’s the opposite. You’re always comfortable with Bucky, no matter what you do. It feels like what a relationship should be except without the intimacy.

That was the scariest part of it all. Part of you wanted to take a risk and see if there could be something more to what you had but what if it makes you just another girl on his list. A convenient person to sleep with along with the others.

“Please, I already RSVP’d for two,” he begged, staring at you with big eyes as his plush bottom lip protruded out comically far.

The tug of war between your brain and heart wins in favor of the latter as you agreed to go with him, convincing yourself that it’s just a date to a wedding with a friend and nothing more.

PART 16

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

[jxkkska]

r u mine?

ft. Iwaoi

Iwa had put on their favourite song while Tooru was washing the dishes. He reached up behind him and held onto his stupid flat assed lover. He wondered, how much did he actually love that jerk.

“Iwa chaaan~ lemme work”

Iwa stayed quiet for a bit. Then he stayed in his quietest voice.

“Tooru, please don’t go. Please don’t leave me.” and then let out a sob.

Whatever was holding Oikawa together broke apart. He was shattered but at least he could act as if he was strong, at least for his Iwa chan.

He turned towards his ace and wiped away his tears.

“Iwa chaaaan~ come one, dance with me. You even put on ghost of you .”

and then they began to sway.

Slow dancing at midnight in their kitchen was a total iwaoi thing to do. They did it a lot. It was their way of showing love. Even though it doesn’t show, but Iwaijumi is a huge sap. He was the type of lover everyone craved.

The songs continued, one after another and the couple kept swaying. Iwaijumi had his head layer on Tooru’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeats. Alive.

Tooru cupped Hajime’s face with his left hand, while the other was on his back, holding him. He kissed Hajime, soft and careful, as if he’d shatter into a million pieces. He was going to miss those soft lips.

Iwaijumi didn’t want the slow kisses though. He was starving for Tooru’s love. He kissed back with inevitable urgency, tasting the tears. He wondered, who’s was it.

His or his lover’s?

The slow kissing turned into make out sessions which left them both panting.

Iwaijumi moved onto Tooru’s neck. He was gonna mark him. Mark what was his. He was gonna show the world who Oikawa belonged to. Oikawa Tooru was his, and only his.

Tooru was a sweaty moaning mess by the time Iwaijumi covered his neck with hickeys. That’d be hard to cover for his flight in 4 hours. Or he could not cover them at all.

His back hurt from leaning against the sharp edge of the sink for so long.

“ Iwa chan, let’s go to our bedroom.”

Iwa grunted in response and smashed his lips on Oikawa, devouring him. In one swift motion, he picked up Tooru and headed for the bedroom.

Tooru was out on the bed slowly and cautiously, Hajime’s lips never leaving his. Their clothes were discarded soon enough, lips never losing touch.

It felt like if they didn’t hold each other, the other would slip away. Forever.

Iwaijumi abruptly paused. He kept staring at Tooru, opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again.

“It’s fine Iwa chan, take your time.”

When did his voice become this angelic?

Iwa was on top of Tooru, hand intertwined with his. Finally after an eternity, he spoke up.

“Tooru, are you mine?”

Tooru laughed quietly and said, “ of course Hajime. I’m all yours.”

“Tooru, are you really mine?” and with that he picked up a small box and held it infront of his lover. “Say yes, Tooru.”

Tooru couldn’t think. Iwa proposed? Asked him to say yes? What should he do? Stay back? No, that’s not a possibility. But say yes? But he wouldn’t be around. He doesn’t want iwa to choose anyone else. But he won’t be around. What if his iwa chan falls in love with someone else? But iwa is Oikawa’s and his only. Iwa belongs to him. And so did Tooru. But what would happen if he wasn-

“Tooru?”

Hajime’s voice snapped tooru back to reality.

“I- YES.”

The answer shocked iwa chan more than it shocked Tooru. Iwa chan couldn’t believe what he heard.

“Tooru say it again. Please.”

Hearing Hajime say please broke Tooru’s heart. Hajime never had to say that word. Iwa was vulnerable and Tooru could see that clear as day.

“Yes, Hajime. I am yours.”

and with that Hajime wiped away Tooru’s tears. When did he start crying? Iwa hurried to put on the platinum band with 4 diamonds [matching his own] on Tooru’s ring finger and then kissed his knuckles. Tooru tried to laugh but that only came out as a wobbled cry.

He literally jumped into Iwa’s arms and held on tight, so tight that iwa couldn’t actually breathe.

“Iwaaaa~ ,” his voice straining, he said, “ you’re such a hopeless romantic. What am I going to do with you?” and tried the best to laugh.

When Hajime didn’t say anything, Tooru noticed that he was shaking with cries. His eyes were red and puffy. Did Tooru ever see Hajime cry like that?

Tooru kissed his tears, and then put on Hajime’s matching band on his finger. He intertwined their fingers.

“Make love to me, Iwa chan.”

Iwa wasted no time to worship his Tooru.

It started with Hajime showering him with kisses, all over him. His beautiful eyes. His plump lips. His neck. His rock hard abs. His thighs. Inside his thighs. His knuckles. Everywhere. Then it lead to kissing oikawa breathless.

Hands all over each other, memorising every curve and dip.

Tooru held on to Iwa chan’s back so hard that it was scratched, and closer and closer to bleeding.

Iwa licked his fingers and slowly eased one in and out of Tooru, torturing him.

“More”, he breathed and iwa was delighted to oblige.

Soon enough he had three fingers inside tooru, stretching and teasing him. He had found the spot which drives Tooru crazy. He was now knuckles deep, hitting that spot.

“Ahhh AHHHHH iwaAAAAAHHHH-“

“Huh nnghhhh iwaAAAHH there ahhh”

“IwaaaAAAAAAAHHHHH-“ damn screamer.... the neighbours were aware of tooru’s condition, and soon they’d hear iwa fucking him senseless. Not that it bothered any of them. The rest of the world didn’t matter when they had each other in their arms.

“Iwa, give it to me, pleaseeeee”

“Give what, tooru? Use your words.” Iwa commanded.

His fingers alone were driving him to the edge of insanity. No wonder what that dick would do.

Even after years of being made love to, tooru would never get used to Iwa and his behaviour during sex. He was soft, he was rough. But he was Iwa chan, his iwa chan.

“Give me your dick, please. Please iwaaAHHH-“ He was cut off by Iwa smashing his lips on Tooru’s just as he pushed his fingers even deeper. Tooru moaned greedily and pushed his tongue into iwa’s mouth. They fought for dominance and when they broke apart, they were drooling all over.

Iwa dragged his fingers out and was ready to put on the condom when Tooru stopped him.

“Don’t use that. I NEED to feel you.” Tooru and his beautiful face, always driving Hajime crazy.

He positioned himself infront of Tooru’s entrance and looked at his over for confirmation. He pushed into Tooru painfully slow.

Eyebrows scrunched together and breathing hard, iwa was fully inside Tooru, leaving him gasping for air.

“Tell me when you’re ready for me to move.”

After sometime, Tooru hummed and spoke out, “yeah, go now.”

That was all it took for Hajime to fuck tooru senseless. He moved out, painfully slow, and then abruptly slammed hard, earning a scream of shock and of pain and pleaser from his lover.

“Iwa chaaan ~ that will be the death of me.”

“and if that makes you stay, I’d be more than glad to do so.” Iwaijumi could barely manage the last few words as slammed harder into tooru.

“Mhhmmmmmmhhfff tooru, so good, soo good for me.”

He continued his cycle of backing up slow and then slamming painfully hard for a couple more minutes which led to Tooru coming all over their tummy.

Tooru gripped the bed sheets so tight that his knuckles turned white.

“So quick, tooru?”

Tooru wasn’t in any position to reply. He was panting. All the pleasure had put his mind in a haze.

Iwa still hadn’t come and was hard as rock. He pulled up Tooru and now he was embracing him but didn’t let go before he placed a pile of pillows and cushions directly under Tooru’s lower back.

Tooru stared back at his lover with tear stained eyes, and beads of sweat across his forehead. Iwaijumi moved away the hair from his eyes and kissed his forehead.

“So beautiful, and all mine.” He barley finished the sentence when he pushed into Oikawa and the new position had made him feel all sorts of things.

“Ahhh a-a-a-A-A-AHHHHH!” That was too much for Tooru. He felt like he was going to come again.

Iwa had tooru’s dick in his hand now, precum oozing out.

He fondled with it for a bit and then started moving. The sensauof being fucked and having his dick rubbed was driving oikawa over the speed limits to his climax.

“Huhhh aaahhhhh.” This time it was Iwaijumi who moaned that loud.

“Iwa chan I wanna come. Please let me come.”

“Beg for it, baby.”

Whoever were their neighbours had their sleep robbed on for a good amount of time. The slapping noises were loud enough to keep the whole neighbourhood awake with them and the memories would be enough for a year or so.

“Please please please please please IwaaaAAAA-“ he was now full on screaming and begging. Iwa didn’t let him come, not yet. He was waiting for tooru to cry and beg.

Which absolutely didn’t take long. “Please iwa chan.” He was a crying mess now.

“Oh beautiful, hush now.” with that he shut out Tooru’s cries with a loving kiss. Tooru came all over their abs and Iwa chan painted him from inside with his cum.

He pulled out of tooru slowly, but not before staring at his beautiful lover. He stared at where their bodies connected. Only if we could stay like that for the rest of our lives.

Iwaijumi Hajime dreamt. Sometimes he dreamt of sweet memories. Where he grew old with his lover. Old yet still madly in love. Sometimes he dreamt of making love to Tooru. Absolute wet dreams, which he of course executed after waking up. He also dreamt... of something bad. Stuff he couldn’t even dare to say out loud. Dreams where Tory had left him. Alone.

Tooru put his fingers between Hajime’s scrunched up eyebrows and spread them apart, he tends to do that when he’s worried. Iwaijumi smiled back at him, the smile which never failed to make Tooru’s hear skip a few beats. He was till holding Tooru, tight.

To clean up Tooru’s cum, Iwa licked it all of from the other’s abs.

The gesture alone was enough to make Tooru’s heart stop.

Tooru got up, regardless of the aching back and the pain in his ass where Hajime’s pelvic bones hit throughout their love making. It was probably red. Tooru had flipped them and now he was on top of his lover, straddling him. He kissed him, full on the lips and got down.

He began by kissing his thighs and slowly neared the apex. He kissed the tip of Iwa’s dick and looked up at him. He started by licking it and then started taking it in his mouth. Iwa was restless. Tooru was staring him while he did a splendid job of sucking him off but the pace was torturous. He grabbed Tooru’s head and pushed his dick funky in his mouth. The sudden thrust had made oikawa tear up.

“So good. So good at sucking me.” Iwa was breathless. Did anyone tell him how great Tooru was at giving head?

Iwa continued to arch his back and then slowly move tooru’s mouth in and out real fast. Tooru was gagging now, his cheeks hollowed out but neither of them planned to stop anytime soon. Tooru was quite loved it when his iwa chan fucked his mouth like dogs in heat.

Tooru’s abrupt halt had angered Hajim a bit. The fuck? But then oikawa took iwa out of his mouth and whispered to iwa, “ don’t come already”. How the fuck was Iwa chan supposed to hold back now?

Tooru positioned himself nicely over Iwa’s dick, paused for a bit and then slammed the hardest he could.

“HOLYSHIT TOORU!” iwa was moaning and screaming by them. It’s official, tooru was the death of him.

“mhmmmm iwaaAAHH you like that?”

“Fuck yes, baby.”

He slammed once more before saying, “see how deep you are, love?” and picked up Iwa’s hand and pressed it to hit abdomen. Hajime was deep, really deep. Iwaijumi was blushing furiously, ear turning pink, but he loved how deep inside he was. Loved how they were connected.

“Babe, go harder.”

That was Tooru’s signal to drive Hajime insane with his rapid thrusts and moaning. Iwa’s grip on tooru’s hips hardened, leaving marks. Tooru had his head thrown back and Hajime swore that it was the most beautiful scene ever, and he was the only one fortunate enough to see it. The way sweat beaded his forehead, his messed up hair, eyes watering and lips red and swollen from all the kissing and biting it.

“Don’t hold your voice. Let me hear it.” And that was tooru’s signal to let out all the screams and moans and whimpers he was holding back.

“a a a A AH AHHH iwaaaaaAAAAHHH” ~ that’s what the neighbours heard all night long.

By the time they were tired, come had painted their faces, body and insides.

Tooru had gotten off Iwa’s lap and was now laying beside him.

“Tooru, has your chest ever felt tight and you were barely a bale to breathe when you’re with the one you love ?”

Tooru opened his mouth to speak but he realised that it wasn’t a question. It was a confession.

“When I’m with you, I forget all my everything, everyone and it’s only you who’s in my mind. I can’t just stop thinking of you. You’re the first and only thing I think of after waking up and before sleeping. You’re always on my mind. You know your useless banter? No matter how much I complain, I love hearing you speak. The way your lips move. The way your tongue hits the top of your mouth. I’m awestruck when I notice how your eyes light up when you see a worthy opponent or when you find your favourite things. The way your eyebrows scrunch up when you’re nervous. The way the skin around your eyes crinkle when you laugh. Your laugh, huh that’s my favourite sound. Every octave of it is mesmerising. Your eyes are the deepest forests in which I get lost. You’re my sunshine, the love of my life.” At this point Hajime’s voice was slurred. He didn’t notice how he curled up beside Tooru during his confession.

Tooru had his arm under Hajime’s head, wrapping his body around him. His arm was now wet with fresh tears, and his vision began to blur.

He almost fell asleep but, Hajime’s sleepy, “please don’t leave me Tooru” had stolen all his sleep.

He stared at his lover for as long as he could, memorising every detail. He moved her hair away from it and kissed the forehead of his sleeping lover, and then took his arm out without waking him up.

He packed all his suitcases and checked his passport. He was just about to leave when he turned away from the door and went near Iwa chan.

“Only if you knew, Iwa chan.” and kissed him full on the lips.

Iwaijumi smiled in his sleep. Must be a nice dream.

Tooru escaped at dark, when the rest of the world was still asleep, along with his beloved. He didn’t care what ep anyone thought of his red eyes but the tears wouldn’t stop coming.

Iwaijumi woke up grunting and was greeted by an empty bed. I should get used-to to it.

He though of his recent dream. It was one of their childhood memories. Oikawa said he would never give away his Iwa chan, and that he’d always beside him.

His phone tuned off last night after playing all those songs, so he waited for it to charge while he waited for the coffee to grind. It was past noon and scorching sun was making him sweat uncontrollably. There was a ghost of smile when he remembered the “adventures” of the previous night, but the loneliness had darkened his heart. He already missed him.

The phone blew up with notifications as soon as it turned on. Hajime picked up the cup of coffee with one hand and the phone with the other, and headed towards the living room.

He scrolled through the notifications as he waited for the tv to turn on.

27 missed calls from Mattsun

15 missed calls from Makki.

7 from Kageyama Tobio.

10 more from Mad dog chan.

3 from Ushiwaka.

1 text from Tooru.

12 missed calls from Kunimi.

6 from kindaichi.

And a lot of texts from gc.

They sure went crazy lol, iwa thought.

He ignored all the notifications and opened the text from Tooru.

10.54 a.m.

I love you, Iwa chan.

He smiled at the words of his lover.

He thought of the memories they had, and the memories they were yet to make. He wanted to have a family with Tooru, their own world. He’d call him his husband and perhaps they’d have a child and a dog. They’d grow old together. They’d be by each other’s side. Forever.

He looked up at the tv and a cold shiver ran down his spine.

Never in his worst nightmare he imagined this would happen.

Breaking news~

“Plane to Argentina crashes with another, survivors: zero.”

He felt his world shatter in seconds.

Tooru said he loved him.

Tooru was his.

Tooru promised to grow old with him.

Tooru was supposed to be aliv

Only if Hajime knew how much Tooru loved him.

Only if Hajime held Tooru back.

Only if Tooru could see Hajime for one last time.

Only if Hajime could see Tooru for one last time.

He screamed his lover’s name until his voice broke.

Tooru said he was Hajime’s. Tooru said he loved him. Tooru said they would grow old together. Tooru said he would never let his Iwa chan be alone. Tooru said he would always hold Hajime’s hand. All his promises…. So where was he now?

Hajim’s tears never stopped. Nothing would bring back his Tooru now.

Would his heart ever stop bleeding?

#iwaoi fic #iwaoi #original content #writeaway #haikyuu!! #volleyball #yaoi love #gay boys #major character death #argentina #japan #anime #fanfic

[strawbrrysun287]

Need a Blanket?

Jin just KNEW that the three little brats on the floor above his dorm had everything to do with this.

Jin KNEW that Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung the ungrateful brats they were started the fire. No one else was stupid enough to be doing something to cause a fire at TWO IN THE DAMN MORNING.

He was having a perfectly good dream about owning his own cafe, being the talk of the town, and rolling around in a pile of money. Only to be rudely woken up by the screeching of the fire alarm and his resident advisor using the master key to bust his door down then rushing him out into the freezing cold night.

Jin hated his resident advisor because the college-level senior always seemed to have the biggest stick up his ass. Then again having something up the ass nine out of ten times was pleasurable so maybe he had the stick shoved down his throat… Well, if done correctly even that could be delightful… okay maybe the stick was embedded into his shriveled-up brain who the fuck knows.

Back to the issue at hand, his stupid resident advisor refused to let him grab a jacket or anything and it was freezing out in the middle of November. Of course, he was turning into a damn popsicle and getting crankier by the minute.

Every time he tried to ask someone what was going on they would just wave him away like he was some first grader who kept bugging them about when their next snack time would be and if they kept it up he would be turning them into the next snack and feed them to ravenous starved freshmen.

As he looked around at all the students rushed out of the dorm he noticed most had the decency to bring jackets or blankets. Except for one poor soul who was rushed out in a simple pair of briefs but at least he had friends who were wrapping him up in their collective blankets.

Jin knew he should have said fuck it to the advisor and grabbed a jacket anyway. It wasn’t like the fire was on their floor and it seemed like the sprinkles that were activated stopped the fire from spreading anywhere except the room where it was started.

Speaking of the fire that started and ruined a perfectly pleasant night, Jin continued to look around seeing if he could find the culprits just so he could give them a piece of his mind.

Even if he already knew deep down who started the fire that caused all of this.

Finally, his eyes landed on his three annoying dongsaengs with their heads down looking properly chastened by the firefighter who seemed to be more than a tad red in the face.

Okay, now he kinda felt bad for the three shitheads. Jimin looked close to crying while Taehyung and Jungkook looked like they were two seconds from dropping to their knees and begging for forgiveness.

Maybe he wouldn’t be so hard on them later but as the chill seeped into his bones he debated on whether or not he should go over and take over for the poor fire captain just so he could lecture the idiots himself.

After he lectured them of course he would make them a good breakfast to remind them he still loved the idiots.

Idiots that they have always been.

Still loved nonetheless.

His entire body started to sag between the tiredness that was finally catching up to him and the cold that had his body going numb.

Before he could think of a plan to steal one of the blankets someone from his dorm had he suddenly had a wall of warmth envelope him causing him to stiffen before relaxing without even thinking about how weird it was.

Once that thought finally occurred, his eyes snapped open in surprise, and looked around frantically for the cause of the warmth.

Immediately he noticed a thick plush royal blue blanket draped around his shoulders and someone a little taller than him standing directly in front of him with a questioning look on his face.

Oh fuck, the mystery man was talking. What did he say? He really should pay more attention to these things. Uh… maybe he can pretend he was confused. Well, he was confused so he doesn’t have to pretend.

“I’m... I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” Was he really that cold? Was that his teeth chattering together?

“No no no. You’re fine! You’re fine! I was looking for my hyung and seen you shaking. Your lips are kinda a... They are kinda turning a weird blue shade? Noticed you didn’t have a blanket or jacket and figured I could share mine. I sleep curled up with my sweater on and cocooned into my blanket so when they woke me up it just all kinda came with me instead of taking time to untangle.”

“Thank you. For the blanket. My resident advisor just kind of pulled me out of bed then shoved me out the door. He’s kinda a dick and I’ve been spending the last hour and a half thinking about how I was going to kill him and use him as an ingredient in my next meal then serve it to all the freshmen.”

“That’s... That’s a little violent, isn’t it? I mean, on second thought, it is freezing out here so yeah. Just make sure I don’t eat any of it okay? The thought of eating human flesh doesn’t exactly get me warm and fuzzy…” Mystery man let out a soft chuckle and wow that sound made Seokjin feel warm and fuzzy. What the hell?

“I promise I won’t feed you any of it. I honestly wouldn’t even feed it to the poor freshmen. I would just throw his body into the lake. No use ruining my perfect cooking dishes over him.”

With a grin, Seokjin held out his finally warm hand.

“Kim Seokjin, nice to meet you uh…?”

“Kim Namjoon!”

Okay so maybe Jin was a little weak for the other’s large hand wrapped around his. And maybe they held hands for a little longer than necessary but it was warmth and Jin was not about to say no.

Plus he kinda liked it.

“You know, I feel kinda bad keeping all of this warmth to myself. I bet I would warm up even faster and you could stay warm too if you join me under the blanket?”

Seokjin’s lips pursed like he was trying to be completely serious but a flirty smile broke out over his lips instead as he opened up his arms to let Namjoon get closer to him.

Jin was gonna take his chance. He was cold, tired, okay maybe a little delirious but Namjoon was hot and what did Jin really have to lose?

Seeing Namjoon’s lips quirk up into a smirk, Jin knew he made the right decision and shook his arms a little telling the other to hurry up.

Quickly Namjoon shuffled forward and Jin’s arms wrapped tight around the other’s waist before burying his face against Joon’s chest. His nose was cold okay?

“You know… we’ve shared a blanket and this counts as snuggling. I feel like I should ask you out on a date. Get to know each other more? Maybe share more than a blanket?” And fuck. Seokjin thought he was bold but this guy was BOLD.

“I think I would like that Namjoon… I think I would REALLY like that. How about after we get some sleep we can go out for coffee together? I’m gonna need some type of caffeine in order to survive throughout the day.”

“You know you could always come back to my ro-”

“SEOKJIN HYUNG!!!”

“Seokjin Hyung!”

“Seokjin Hyungie!!!!”

“Ungrateful disrespectful brats who will not live to see morning…”

“Technically Seokjin it is morning?”

“Shut it Namjoon or I am stealing your blanket and will leave you here freezing.”

“Yes, Seokjin~”

Taking a deep breath Seokjin waddled a little in a circle so that he and Namjoon were still pressed up tight against each other but in a way that he could stare at his three dongsaengs approaching them.

“Hyung that fire captain kept yelling at us! He yelled at us for an entire hour about fire safety and blah blah blah. It’s not like the fire KILLED anyone. Honestly, the dramatics were not needed.”

Seokjin loved Taehyung but right now he wanted to wrap his now warm hands around the younger’s neck and choke him out.

“Well in his defense, we did kinda start a dorm fire and now our entire room is charred after being up in flames and the school has to deal with insurance and getting out stuff back. Which they graciously said they would but in the meantime, we have to find a place to stay.”

And okay, maybe Jimin was Seokjin’s favorite because of the way his cheeks puffed out when he was pouty and how he was responsible yet irresponsible at the time. But always managed to keep his two best friends under his thumb so things never got too out of hand.

Well, no one has ended up in jail yet, so Seokjin hasn’t had to give them bail money which is a plus in his book. Nor has anyone ever had to go to the hospital. So on that note, it’s a definite win-win.

“You know Seokjin hyung… we could always stay with you… Jimin and Tae can crash on the couch in your dorm and I can take the floor? Please? It will be like we aren’t even there!!”

Seokjin called bullshit immediately but at the same time, he knew he couldn’t leave the three on their own. All of them were like his younger brothers, even if one, unfortunately, was his younger brother that he loved dearly but would never admit to.

“I… yeah. Yes. You guys can go ahead and stay in my dorm. You three are lucky I have a single or else it wouldn’t have been so easy. PLEASE do not touch anything that could even possibly start a fire though do you hear me? If I catch any of you three in the kitchen area I will have your heads on a platter by the end of the hour.”

“Yes, Hyung!”

“Yes, Hyungie!”

“Yes Seokjin”

“MANNERS JUNGKOOK”

“Yes SEOKJIN HYUNG”

“Better… Now you three go I need to finish warming up.”

Seokjin was hoping and praying to the fates that the three would just completely ignore Namjoon’s presence and leave the two be to continue to flirt but no. It was never going to be that easy.

Before he knew it he had all three of the little gremlins surrounding him all staring at Namjoon with curious and amused eyes.

“So… Who are you?”

“Why are you holding hyung like that?”

“Aren’t you Yoongi hyung’s friend?”

There goes the tiny hope of peace Seokjin was so desperately craving.

“You don’t have to answer their questions, Namjoon-ah. They are little brats who are going to be sleeping in the grass for the rest of the night.”

“It’s okay Seokjin, really. I don’t mind answering their questions. Ah, I’m Kim Namjoon, your hyung was cold and turning into a popsicle so I intervened. And I am Yoongi hyung’s friend but I can’t seem to find him? I know he is fine because we got ushered out together but then he disappeared somewhere. Probably to keep sleeping.”

Okay, so he was attractive, warm, amazing voice. How much more could he take of this?

“Namjoon, this is Jimin AKA my favorite dongsaeng. The one beside him is his soulmate Taehyung. Then the third rascal is actually my younger brother, Jungkook. He is the one you have to watch out for when it comes to puppy dog eyes. He is the reason I got dared to get a tattoo on my ass then when I tried to back out of it he conned me into it.”

“You have a tattoo on your…?”

“Yeah that’s more second date material don’t you think?”

Seokjin stared at Namjoon with an impish grin and watched as the other nodded his head in agreement.

“Second date. Right. How do you feel about making this our first date, yeah?”

With a playful smack to Namjoon’s stomach, Seokjin just shook his head with a smile.

“How about we go back to your room while these idiots go back to mine and we can get to know each other a little more personally?”

“You know what, that’s the best offer I’ve heard in my life. Let’s get out of here yeah?”

As Namjoon and Seokjin headed back into the door rooms that were now accessible the three stood staring at them with a mixture of shock and amusement spread across their faces.

“GET YO MAN JINNIE HYUNG!”

“GET IT HYUNG BUT PROTECTION!!”

“WE NEED THE KEYS TO YOUR DORM JIN!!”

(I couldn't get this idea out of my head so with tired eyes and tired minds, here ya go <3 Happy reading <3)

#Namjin #namjin fic #vminkook are little shits #kim namjoon #Kim seokjin #small fire

[yconic]

"Divorce is a special kind of pain. It's like death without a body, " is what they say when two halves of a whole heart separate.

Tony never understood when he was younger, never extended the notion of two people who gifted each other to eternity in union splitting up beyond 'Just not talking for a bit.'

He looked at it from a small perspective belonging to a small person, as if the people in question were just two good friends who couldn't decide on what game to play, hurt each other, and needed space.

His parents had done it more times than he cared to count. The frigid silences and artificial prompt politeness between the socialite power couple Howard and Maria Stark could last for two days, or two months, depending on how deep the issue picked out that time ran.

Tony sat straight as he watched the clock tick away, dutifully counting the hours that would bring Maria closer to home from whichever elicit travel affair she filled her time with while Howard closes himself into his workshop, stewing in anger and bitterness that leak out from the door he's not permitted to trespass.

He learns to measure the gravity of their squabbles, - If it's a small argument, Maria picks Germany, France, or Spain. She sends a letter stating the duration of her stay. She sends Tony well wishes, with a touch of formality for a mother, and her name is elegantly plastered on the bottom in cursive.

When Howard fucks up, she picked China, Britain, or Italy, and she disappeared from the earth until she emerged at her like. Howard is Howard, - the relationship between him and his son was too cold for Tony to tell how his father was like without the disdain gleaming in his eyes, but the liquor cabinet always needed at least a daily refill after a spectacular drama.

He looks back at those moments and realizes, with a shade of pity coated in something more sour, mellow but active, that divorce was never an option for them, the cycle of co-dependency and maintaining legacy had to be kept no matter how demanding that task was.

He can't bring himself to be angry when he feels so bad for them. All that money, and they couldn't buy a second of peace.

It doesn't take long for him to realize his parents don't love each other.

Tony was young, but he was never a child. He was naive, gullible, innocent, - but he was awake. While he didn't clearly understand what love was, he looked at the unhappy frowns on the miserable faces of the pair and thought: 'If that's how love looks like I want no part in it.'

He doesn't love people for more than one night, - A full week if their company was good enough to distract him from the rich golden color of his whiskey that gradually tastes bitter, and more bitter every time. It's not love, he knows, - He keeps that special for his family. But the kind of feeling he has with strangers, with nobody's with a name, resembles what he knows of love too much for him to change meaning.

He won't know how "love" feels like. He refuses to be the caged bird his mother was, to take form in the monster Howard let himself become.

Then, life gives him Steve.

He nests into Tony's life like a storm with skin, hair kissed by sunshine and eyes filled with an ocean that the brunette longs to sink into. He has a boyish charm to him, an old soul that swoops Tony off his feet. It makes him want to slow down, even if he belongs to the future, to activity, to progress. He wants to sit and listen to the stories Steve has, told in a Brooklyn swird that gives character to every word.

Steve looks at him like Rhodey told him all people should look at him. 'Like they can't see the status, or the money, or the power. Like they just see Tony, and nothing more. Because Tony will always be enough. ' Steve looks at him like he hangs the moon for him.

Tony never stood a chance. He looked at Steve, and thinks: "Oh, shit. He's It for me."

He just knows that this one, this Captain, decorated to the teeth, hiding in awkwardness at this petty mingling, social climbing Gala, lowering himself at the bar because he didn't know anybody, was made for him. And if Steve clings to Tony the whole night, he agrees with the parallel drawing out on his part.

He doesn't leave Tony's side, arm snug and comfortable around his middle like they've known each other for longer than time itself, and Tony loves it more than he has the courage to say.

Steve looks at him when the epilogue of the night strikes, too soon for either of their likings. He's tall, broad-shouldered, strong but has the softest eyes in the world. It hurts Tony to arch his neck to stare, but he doesn't want to miss a thing. "I've... I didn't laugh like that since I was in tour. You made my night, Tony."

"It's nothing, -" Because it really is. Considering the sins to his name, the least he can do to atone some mistakes is make as much people as happy as he can. And Happy is a great look on Steve.

He does learn one thing: When Steve says something, it stays how Steve says it. "No, its everything, Tony. I didn't smile once since coming home, " he croaks, like the confession pains him, and Tony aches alongside him. "Everyone is worried about me, saying that, that I seem upset, or sad, or just, never happy anymore, but how else am I supposed to feel?"

"You can't let others tell you how you feel, " Tony soothes, without thinking, a hand softly brushing against Steve's cheek. A frisson zaps through him at the feeling of the soldier's stubble spiking his skin. Steve leans into his touch like it's the most normal thing in the world. Tony's heart grows. "It's not even in your control, so why should it be in theirs? " He understands how Steve feels. More than the world would care to listen.

"Exactly. So, if it's not too much trouble, " his shyness compliments Tony's smitten. "Would you mind making me smile again?"

Tony is, utterly, indubitably, irrevocably, without a shade of doubt, fucked.

He smiles anyway. "You know, soldier, I think I could pull some strings."

---

Their love is like rain in June. It's mellow and distractingly peaceful, makes their worry and everything that ever went wrong scarce away. They can breathe around each other even when they feel like drowning. For once, Tony feels like it'll be okay.

But Life decides to do what it always does when Tony finds something good. It takes, and it takes, until there's nothing.

Steve tells him about Bucky. About the fallen brother that vanished in the mission that stole everything for Steve. "Only one soldier fell off that train, but two died that day, " God, Tony is so worried when Steve talks like that. "It should've been me. I wanted it to be me."

Tony listens and he pictures Rhodey falling. Steve loved Bucky in ways he couldn't even hope to understand.

It turns out, Death is not something so permanent after all.

It's a lovely night for them when Steve gets that call. He's wrapped around Tony and holds him in his arms as if he'd rather go to war again than let him go and Tony's heart never beat so loud for anyone. He would have never let Steve answer if he knew that phone call was the beginning of their end.

Bucky's alive again, is reborn from snow and war and ashes. Broken, but alive. Held captive by terrorists and is unmade, undid, but still alive. Everything around Steve is lost after that.

Tong gives him space and resources, help, support, he gives everything to Steve like on their wedding day. He gives him his care and gentle hands and soft words and love with a heartbeat. And Steve is just... Too preoccupied looking at Bucky to notice. Tony feels like a selfish bastard for wanting his soldier to look at HIM instead of coddling his friend at every moment notice.

He wants Steve to stop suffocating Bucky when he already looks like he's just inhaling instead of breathing.

He wants his husband back.

That's why he deserves what's coming to him. That's his punishment.

They drift apart slowly, as most terrible pains start.

Steve starts spending more and more time around the mental help facility Bucky asked to be enlisted into after his hasty return that had everyone clutching at their pearls. He wants to do it alone, Tony figures easily, starves for a journey he wants to walk himself, for the kind of autonomy only a man who lost it for too long craves.

His bitterness aside, Tony marvels at how similar they are. Maybe In another life, he and Barnes would've made a handsome pair of kindred souls.

Steve doesn't agree. He looks sickened, struck even, at Tony for having the Gall to suggest maybe Barnes would be more responsive if he talked with someone who had mirroring experiences. "God, Tony, you don't... You're not a soldier. You're just a man. You've been through pain, sure, but not like Bucky. No one went through what he did. I'm honestly speechless you ever thought you could compare."

Steve says that, it's why it hurts so bad. The man who swore he'd walk back into the hellfire of war just to find the people who hurt Tony and tear them apart.

The man who couldn't be moved by anything. No nightmare, no night terror, no panic attack, no argument. Nothing convinced Steve to leave. He stayed through it all.

The man who cried relentlessly when Rhodey walked Tony down the alter because 'He couldn't believe how lucky he was to marry someone so beautiful.'

The man who hasn't written Tony a love letter every morning like he used to do in over a year.

The man who spent more time sleeping in hospital rooms than in their bed.

The man who used to not go even one day without saying "I love you". Tony can't even remember the last time this sentence was spoken between them unless he said it first.

The man who agreed to couple therapy, then acted like it rained the next day.

Tony would will himself to shove this under the rug. To put a blind eye to it, to make it work, to ignore Rhodey's disapproval and Pepper's warm worry, to push away the pain blossoming in his chest, threatening to overspill.

But this man adopted a child with him.

---

"That one" Steve points to a small boy, thin but sturdy-looking even in the hand me downs from the orphanage, short limbs supporting a mess of brown hair that looks impossibly soft. His eyes are big and kind. Tony wants to take him home and feed him. "That one's ours."

His name is Peter, and he got into a fight with older kids when they wanted to stomp on ladybugs. He pushes back, but not unkindly. He's no bully. Instead, he takes the time to teach them why disrespecting and hurting nature is wrong, then takes their hands into his own, playing with the tiny creatures for hours.

Tony falls in love immediately. "Let's bring him home, Cap."

---

He can't do it. Tony can't look into Peter's adoring eyes, wide and brown that feel more like a mirror than anything, and see the fear he had for Howard, or the sadness for Maria. Tony can't handle looking at the love of his life and see another him.

Steve is Peter's role model. His knight in shining armor, his protector, everywhere he goes he sings praise to anyone who cares to listen. About his fearless father, his heroic antics that seem so tall for him. "My daddy's a superhero!" Tony doesn't have the heart to take that away.

And Tony loves Steve too much to see him become Howard.

So when Steve misses their son's 5th birthday party because he had more pressing business in D.C, Tony realizes bitterly, there's no saving this. People labeled him as a mechanic, a futurist, but he feels unworthy of both when he couldn't fix or foresee this.

There's no coming back from this.

Natasha doesn't voice it, but she doesn't need to. She tucks her phone away after a third failed attempt to coax, threaten, and guilt Steve into joining them, with muted movements, and Tony can tell she agrees.

Tony's grin is too wide when he looks down at Peter when he drags him off to paint his face, unaware of his father's turmoil. He laughs. He smiles. He celebrates. He has a nice day with his family.

He pulls Pepper aside and asks her to prepare his lawyers in the same breath.

This is why Tony knew love wasn't made for him.

---

Tony's always been good at hurting himself. The more pain he inflicts on himself, the less it'll hurt when someone else does it. So he unpacks the stash of letters he kept locked away in a seif, because they're prized to him, more than any sleek car or company, and reads them before he burns the bridge.

They feel like warm kisses and goodbyes.

'Left for a grocery jog, ran out of coffee. It's supposed to be cold, so don't you even think about leaving the house without a jacket! I'll know. Take care of yourself, even when I'm not there. '

' I love waking up next to you every morning. I love how you hide from the sun in my chest. I love how grumpy you are when Pepper calls for updates and all you do is cuddle me and whine. I love your messy bed hair and how you fall asleep in the shower.

'I never cared for jewelry before but seeing my ring around your finger never gets old. I still can't believe you said yes, but I'm glad you did. You deserve more, but you settled for someone like me. I can't believe it when you say no one would want you forever, I hate that someone made you think like that, that they let you go, but their biggest mistake is my biggest win. Jokes on them.'

'I can't imagine my life without you. Its all radio silence and broken static. Like an artist with a blank canvas and grey paint. You're the best damn thing that ever happened to me, and the fact that I have you means there really is someone up there looking our for me. I'm never letting you go. I love you, I love you, I love you, '

Tony stains the paper with tears as he listens to the song of heartbreak in his chest.

---

"Nat, " Tony pleads, choosing not to look at the tremor in his hands as he neats the papers he wants to see burn. "There's no need for that, come on. You know I love you, but I'm a big boy. I don't need you to hold my hand for this."

Natasha shrugs. "Indulge me."

"He wouldn't do anything to me."

"I thought there were lots of things he wouldn't do. Like stop loving you, for one, " she doesn't mean to be a jab, but Tony strokes his right arm and lets the hurt wash off. He sometimes forgets how blunt and terrifying Pepper's wife is capable of being. "Being paranoid is worth being safe."

They find Steve in the kitchen, sitting stiff and unfamiliar as if he didn't design the place himself. Tony swallows down the pressure in his throat and forces his eyes to stay dry. He wants to rest his hands on Steve's shoulders and pepper the lines of laughter on his flushed face with kisses.

But they're behind that now.

Steve raises his eyes to look at him. He's tired, run-down, missing the spark Tony marked as one of his favorite traits of the blonde. The life wasted from them, telling Tony that he's surviving, but not living.

Tony looks at him back and his eyes say, 'Me too.'

Steve's mouth twists into an imitation of a smile, tries his luck at mimicking something of the reassurance and ease variety, to hide his emotions with a mask of cracked peace Tony undressed a million times, just as Steve undressed his. He's always been good at reading the man. Or, was.

Steve's eyes fall on the documents Tony's holding with his naked hands, no ring in sight, and Tony watches something die in him.

The room drowns in silence for a while.

Natasha stands as a loyal shadow at his side, silent but sharp, hands folded in front of her crotch like a guard dog waiting to pounce. There's a forced calm into her breathing that puts him even more on edge.

Papers brush smoothly above the marble surface, ear piercing to him. Red hot blazing into white noise. It's the most terrible sound he's ever heard. He prefers his breathless, agonized screams in Afghanistan to this.

Steve recoils away, standing up suddenly and shakily, as if the documents are bombs about to kill him anytime now.

He turns his head, refusing to look at them. Refuses to accept they're real.

"Throw those away, Tony, " he says, voice edged with the kind of suffering that would bring Tony to his knees on other circumstances."Get them the hell away from me and never bring them up again, you hear me? I'm serious.''

Carefully, Natasha chimes in, tone mild and neutral. " Steve. Tony would like to speak with you about something, alright? Let's sit down, and talk like grown-ups, -"

"Where's your ring!?" Steve shouts, tiptoeing at the border of desperate and hysteric. Tony wants back into the cave, wants the water to take him away from all of this. It's hard to kill something that's already dead. "What did you do with it!? Why aren't you wearing it!? You PROMISED me, you promised you'd never take it off you JERK, you lying -"

"And you promised to love me until the day we die, but by the looks of it we both could use a lesson in honesty, " Tony cuts icily, colder than colder. His words are resigned, hollow, at the brim of mechanical. He thinks all the people who say Starks are more machine than men had a point. "I'm the fuck up in this relationship. What's your excuse?"

He thought he'd feel vindication watching Steve taste a fraction of his sorrow, that his destroyed look would make something in Tony retaliate. It does nothing. Tony loves him stronger, fiercer, and there's no win here for anyone.

His mouth tastes like ashes.

He just wants to stop, to sink in his bed and swim in ratty hoodies drenched in cheap but sweet cologne, smudged with paint of all shades, and feel Steve's arms shield him from the world.

He wonders if it'll keep Steve up at night, how it never occurred to him that the danger he wanted to defend Tony from might have his face.

"I'll do better. Tony please," Steve begs him, and Tony wonders if the situation is so low a man with his nature would resort to that. He's shaken by big hands engulfing his own for exactly a moment before Natasha intervenes, pushing the blonde away with a hint of regret. Steve recovers, looks right through her at Tony who wants to wipe his tears away. "I'll do better, I'll- I'll spend less time with Bucky if you want, -"

"Bucky isn't the problem. It's not about HIM, it was never about him, this is US, Steve. We, our marriage, our family, its been here longer than Bucky. I never wanted you to - to erase him from your life, I just wanted my husband. Peter wanted his daddy. Bucky could've been apart of that, but you just, you just pushed us aside,-"

"I won't do that anymore. I, - Do you want me to be at home more often? I can, sweetheart, I can do that no problem. I can be at home, I can make time for dates and-and for activities, I can take Peter to the park and play ball, - Do you remember that? How we used to play until he fell asleep? I don't mind, its no problem, -"

Something in Tony snaps.

"WE'RE NOT YOUR FUCKING CHORES," His voice is more roar than man, ragged, tight, pushed to the last limit. The garden of silent pain, fury, rage, and fear he's been harboring finally blossomed into something that seemed to shake the world. His body shudders. "We're not some,- some pestering tasks that you have to save your precious time to complete! Some fucking pets other people have to force you to care of, or some dirty laundry you decide to wear whenever you feel like washing! We're your damn FAMILY,- " A sob hitches his anger, and by the broken look on Steve's face, it's worse than any rage.

He narrows his eyes in disbelief, as if Steve was some stranger and not someone he gave years of his life to. A laugh is pushed out of his chest, choked, long, and terrible. "I would've ended this sooner if, - God, if I knew how much of a burden we became for you."

"Tony, Tony don't say that, " Steve's face is blotched red, painted in punishing torment. "I love you and Peter more than anything in this life. You're mine, both of you, how can you think I don't love you? I, -"

"Just love Bucky more, " Tony finishes, note flat, accepting, rehearsed. His voice feels as hollow as his chest when Steve flinches. "I'm just... I'm so tired. Steve,I'm tired, and- I can't do it anymore. My son, my baby is not going to be a burden on anybody. I can put up with a lot of shit, but Peter is my limit. I can't and I won't put anyone above him. Not even you."

Horror shines bright and clear on the blue eyes Tony loves so much. He spots Steve's finger tremble at his sides, notices the hesitant movement of his Addams apple.

Natasha was wrong. It's a rare occurrence, but it happened.

Steve never stopped loving him.

It makes signing the papers so much harder.

---

Steve lost Bucky to ice, snow, and time. Tony loses Steve to fire, anger, and distance.

---

Pepper is surprised when she hears Steve ended up signing willingly.

She doesn't want to ruin the calm air that finally settled over the emotion packed atmosphere surrounding the living room, currently stashed with carton boxes filled with Steve's stuff, ready to be delivered tomorrow as Tony wanted, but it's a needed talk.

"What did you say to convince him?" She asks, not demanding an answer but clearly expecting one. "I'd just assume Nat had him in an arm lock until he agreed, but, in all honesty, Steve would probably lose an arm than do what people tell him to. Seriously, I've seen anarchists with more respect for authority than this guy."

Tony laughs, too loving and too fond for this predicament. "I said you'd drag his ass through every courtroom in America and drain him of everything he's worth?"

"Mmm. Try again. I mean, that's a Sunday for me, but he's already heard that talk before." Giggles are shared between the pair on the couch, snuggled under fuzzy blankets with wine glasses that clink slightly. Pepper's face relaxes into something sympathetic, earnest. "Was it something Peter related?"

"No, " he shakes his head. It never crossed his mind once, no matter how hurt he was. It felt too much like what his father would do. " Peter is his son, too. No matter what happens between us. There's no changing that. "

"No one would blame you if it came down to that, you know that, right?"

He hums. Pepper waits.

"I asked him to let me say goodbye to my husband instead of forcing me to stay with Howard."

A sharp intake of breath settles something cold beneath Tony's skin. He closes his eyes, and accepts the wine Pepper pours in his cup, neither commenting on how it spills over the rim.

---

Talking to Peter is the hardest part.

He doesn't understand why suddenly there's only two people there instead of three, why he isn't woken up by two pairs of arms tickling him and kissing his sleepy eyelids every morning, why Tony's laughter isn't echoing through the house as Steve spins and twists him around in the living room dance session they had at least once a week.

Why, apparently, Steve now has a permanent residence in DC and can only see him twice a week as their legal agreement states.

Why he has to live in two different places and split his playtime.

Why Tony bought a new apartment and they had to move away, stretching the distance between them and Steve.

"Is Papa comin' home today?" A hand squeezes Tony's heart painfully tight at the small question. He looks down at his son, smaller than usual and playing with his fingers at his feet. His frail shoulder raise, housing an anxious breath as he awaits an answer.

Tony takes his tiny hand in his own, leaning down to press kisses on the back of his son's palm, apology on his lips. "Yeah, baby. He has to come and pick up his stuff. Maybe you can play a little when he arrives! I'm sure he'll be happy to see you. "

Steve sends Sam to pick up his things and Tony feels guilt bite at him for hissing 'coward' in his mind.

Peter is excited to see his uncle Sam but the disappointment when he hears a truck coming instead of the deep rumble of a motorcycle engine doesn't wash off. He soldiers on, smiles for Sam because as little as he is, he's careful with people and their emotions. His goodness is organic. He takes after Steve like that.

Sam's always been frustratingly talented at deciphering his thoughts, even when his face is emotionless. It's one of the many reasons why Tony thinks him and Rhodey match so well. "He said he's really sorry he couldn't come, but... Okay, his excuse is just sad, because I doubt you'd believe he'd rather attend a Zoomba class than see you and Peter. Truth is, he's scared."

"Of facing me?"

"Of hurting you."

"Yeah, well, he's already got that job done on the to do list, " Tony huffs, petty and aware. He tosses Peter his baseball that lands in the backyard, gently nudging him away from the conversation. They watch the ball of energy squeal in delight as he runs to fetch it, tension momentarily on hold. "Sorry. You don't need my shit. Let's just load this and be done with it."

Sam huffs. "Man, I've been involved with your shit for a while. Appreciate the feeling but it's a bit late for that. Trust me, me and Rhodey have in length discussions about it. I'm neck-deep in white boy drama, but well, sacrifices of the job. Not much you can do."

He's playful, Tony knows this, in the corner of his brain that isn't raided by anxiety, yet fear claws at him, sharp and cruel and unexpected. Coldness spreads inside him like wildfire, almost matching the thoughts racing in his mind. Sam and Rhodey were talking? Were they arguing? Had Tony harmed Rhodey's relationship as if he didn't wreck his own enough?

"Talk?" Tony rasps, pushes the words out of his constricted throat that seems to close more and more, synchronizing with his lungs. Sam's wide, concerned eyes tells him the surface looked as bad as the inside."You... You and Rhodey, you guys- Bad talk? You, you fought about it?"

His mind torments him by showcasing Rhodey yelling in Sam's face and Sam yelling back, both standing their ground like two soldiers on a mission and defending their friends like avenging angels. Rhodey is more brother than friend, he'd take his side, like the devoted friend he always proved himself to be, but he watches with a cut breath as Rhodey locks himself in his room and weeps.

Rhodey sharing his fate is Tony's own horror movie.

"...ony! Tony, deep breaths, come on, " gentle hands guide him away from the void his own psyche trapped him into, speaking in a low voice that plucks him back up little by little. "Come on, in and out. Focus on my voice, that's good. Listen to me, Rhodey and I did not and will not fight about this. We're fine, Tony, promise! We agreed, no side pickers. This isn't war, and we won't get into some life or death fight for your and/or Steve's honor, " he tries for a little grin. ''I mean, I'm not supposed to tell you, but we don't like you guys that much."

Tony laughs, at once, a pathetically small sound, but he's grounded enough to laugh. He basks in the lack of sound around them, like the silence of an after battle, suffocating, but free.

The quiet hangs in the air as they load the truck, too, not oppressing, but welcomed, with a touch of comfort that burns just right. When the last box is secured and road-ready, him and Sam stay just a bit on the porch to stare at the house. Because that's what it is, isn't?

'Is papa comin' home?'

There is no home. Not if Steve's missing.

"Steve said you can keep those, if you want," that sentence made Tony hunch his shoulders, releasing that bitter aftertaste in his mouth again, blending with something sweet, and igniting the warmth that pierced as deep as his very marrow. "Nothing he loves or wants back is in those boxes."

Yes, Tony wants to scream. I want to keep the sketchbooks he has for me. I want to keep the photo albums. I want to keep the paint, the charcoal, the brushes. I want to keep the stuffed animals he won me at the fairs. I want to keep his clothes. I want to keep the dances in the living room. I want to keep his love, attention, care, worry, sadness, anger, grief. I want to keep my husband.

Instead, Tony reaches for his back pocket, and squeezes his ring. It burns in his palm, almost begging him to put it back in it's place, or on his finger, where it fitted like it always belonged. His being feels it, as if connected, and he decides to even the odds in the cowardice department.

Sam holds his breath as Tony hands him the ring, with hesitance, with no indication he wants to. "You sure about this?" It's a careful question, painfully gentle, far softer than Tony deserves.

No. Not by a long shot. "Yeah, " he mutters, almost lost in the air. "It's not mine anymore."

Sam curls his hand around the ring, pockets it, and Tony wrestles with the urge to ask for it back. His eyes are trained to the floor, on his shoes, the fine leather ones Steve bought for him on their anniversary, he realizes.

He watches droplets of water splash and dissolve into the concrete. It's raining, he figures, he should take Peter inside or he'll catch a cold. He looks up to watch the dark clouds, and the senine blue above mocks him.

"It's okay, " Rhodey picked a good one, Tony thinks, as Sam covers his crying form away from Peter's eyes. "It's okay, Tony. Just... Let it out. You earned this."

"I tried, " he sobs in Sam's neck, sobs his demise his failure, his bottled cocktail of emotions that waited to implode. "I tried, Sam, I tried so hard, I swear I did."

"We know you did, Tony. We all know."

---

Peter wants to meet Bucky one day.

"Papa used to talk about him all the time, " He says, oblivious to how vexed Tony is hearing that. He apprehends himself, reproaching that he should be over it already. "He sounds pretty cool! I want to see his Terminator arm!"

"It's a Tin Man or Robocop arm, at best, " He smirks at the pout Peter throws his way, smoothing it out with his thumb. "And he's in a hospital. You and I hate hospitals, remember?"

Peter whines and makes his eyes larger, pitifully glassy and sad, just the way to wrap Tony around his little finger. "Daddyyyy, pleeeease!" He hooks his fingers around his arm, hugging it close to his chest and his lower lip trembles.

He imagines Steve behind him, smothering a laugh in his shoulder, egging Peter on like two conspirational buddies. He melts, pushing the rush of yearning back, and knows it's a battle lost. Peter is too lovable, too determined, too bright eyed.

He's morbidly curious, in a way, to see what was so special about Bucky that it made Steve want to trade that.

---

Bucky and Peter hit it off in a heartbeat.

The facility hosting Bucky is uncomfortably pristine, from door corner to ceiling. Everything is tailored and arranged with ridiculous precision, clinical, professional, boring, and detached, as most medical spaces are. His workshop dances circles around it in the personality field, and he tells Bucky as such.

He laughs at him. "That's an interesting way to say you're a chronic untidy mess."

'Chronic untidy hot mess, " Tony corrects, hating how easily he falls into conversation with him. He tells himself it's merely a distraction from the stomach twisting smell of medicine, stingy and sharp smothering the air. "How offensive. I demand a trial by combat. Peter, make him pay in blood!"

Peter turns to Bucky, unblinking. "Your hair's greasy."

A theatrical gasps spreads in the room from the blue eyed brunette. Tony beams, kissing Peter's cheek. "That's my boy. I'm sure Bucky's bleeding a lot on the inside."

"Yeah. You know, where blood usually is, " Bucky snarks, heatless, propping Peter off from the spot on his leg and putting him on the ground . "Why don't you go ask nurse Joy to give you some magnets for the arm? Your father and I gotta talk adult business."

"Uncle Clint says adult business is just gossip for grown ups. " Peter retorts, smirk on his lips, half raising on the edges of his mouth. He got the smugness from him, that much Tony will admit. Bucky huffs a laugh that mirror Tony's own and waits for Peter to be out of the hearing range to say his next words.

"I owe you an apology."

Tony blinks, hastily, and speaks before he can even register what he's saying. "No, you don't. Drop it." It comes off razor sharp, yet Bucky must be used to worse, because he doesn't falter.

"I ruined your marriage. There's no forgiving that, but I DO regret it and you'll damn well listen to what I have to say."

"Look, I appreciate it. I do. I'm not... Mad at you. You're just in the crossfire of this clusterfuck. There's no forgiving because there's nothing to forgive, " he murmurs under his breath, words quiet, but sincere, he realizes. "My failure is my own to carry. "

"Stark, relationships need more than one person. Stevie ain't exactly blameless in this whole thing, - Far from it, trust me, I let him know. He got the scolding of the damn lifetime, because he threw away a damn good thing. He made a home for himself and then demolished it. You didn't hand him the sledgehammer, he picked it up on his own dumb self."

"You know, your philosophy lesson would impact me better with wizard lingo. Throw in a riddle or a prophecy and I might bite. " Receiving a blank stare to his quip, Tony sighed, eyes downcast.

"Look. I called it off, alright? I lit up the matches, I burned down the bridge, and I watched it turn to ash. But it was meant to happen, one way or another. We were just too different. Guys like me break the world apart. Men like Steve put it back together. He'll move forward. Like he always does."

Bucky's reply is instant. "No, no he won't, " it's said with such conviction, with such a finality, that it has Tony freezing. "He'll never move on. Not from this. I've never seen him like that for anybody, hell, never seen ANYONE like that. You and him? That's a forever kind of deal. You don't need a ring and name change for that to last. You don't have a choice."

Tony swallows, slowly, unsure. "So what? We just keep path crossing like fate has us tied together, in each other 's range but standing on parallel lines, never meant to cross? This isn't a fairytale, Barnes. It's real life. And even if it wasn't, that's still far from fair."

"It is real life. Which means it ain't fair, Stark. "

Tony takes Peter home, cuddles him closely as if he might disappear, and eyes the empty area around the right side of the bed with a lonely glint that burns in the darkness.

---

The first time Tony meets Steve after the divorce, it's for Natasha's birthday party.

Time jumps from slow to fast, alters between stagnation and overwhelming in the first 6 months that pass after the finalization of their parting. Some days are agonizingly slow. As if the world wants him to stomach every second, consume every minute, where Steve is not with him, isn't his anymore, and choke on the pain that tastes just as sharply as the first time.

And in some, time goes by in blink record, not keen on giving Tony the courtesy of healing, of moving on, of according him the patience or kindness in adapting his feelings to his pace, to accommodate to the arrangement it dragged him in.

Concern crawls inside him regardless of how many times he buries it, makes a tangly nest right in his chest, and makes no effort to move. He doesn't blame Steve for not wanting to meet him, to look at him, to give him the chance of staring into the bright, baby blue eyes that hold everything beautiful in the world.

Tony's seen the wonders of the world, all 8 them, and they all pale put next to Steve.

He feels seething, scalding guilt showering him for thinking that. Because Steve is not his to worry over, not his to call wonderful, not his to care for. Not anymore. He repeats that like a mantra against his eardrum when Natasha asks him if it's fine if she invites him to her party, too.

It's the perfect excuse to see how he's doing, but Tony elects to ignore that and remind Natasha grown-ass people don't ask other grown-ass people for permission on what to do. "Do I look like Pepper to you? No? Then why would I order you around?"

A discreet smile reaches Natasha's features, exhibiting confidence but betraying relief. She loves them both, Tony knows, and wants her friends first, not the fallen lovers. "Just wanted to know if I should hide the sharp knives or prepare some spare sheets."

His face heats ferociously, climbing all the way to the tips of his ears, and all the embarrassment in the world is worth listening to Natasha laugh. Something sharp-edged inside of him brittles at the prospect of seeing Steve, thought, and he holds his tongue from saying something of that nature won't happen.

In the company of his solitude and shame, Tony wonders later, is he afraid of seeing Steve again because he fears the blonde is not doing okay, or because he is?

Later on, he sees Steve stand in flash before him, chatting with some faceless figures, hair longer than last time and flattened slightly at the nape, sporting a beard that framed his gorgeous face perfectly. The impeccable balance between scruffy and well-groomed. Tony itched to run his fingers against it.

"It's the divorce beard, " Clint muses, elbow jolting Tony in the side to show the humor. "Give him a few more weeks, and you'll see him shopping from the Hobo shop. All wrinkled shirts and ketchup stained clothes or something. Men are useless without their wives.'' He winks in Tony's way, but Tony is too entranced by Steve to acknowledge it.

His fists are bruised, Tony notes with a wince as he gets drunk on Steve's form with a studious gaze, creamy skin battered and laced in a cluster of dark purple, crimson, and small patches of yellow shaping his knucklebones.

A trail of question rests blistering on his tongue. 'What happened? Who did that? Who were you fighting? Why? Are you okay? Did you win?' But he closes his eyes and bites his tongue, knowing these questions don't belong to him anymore.

He gave up his rights to that.

But then, Tony spots them.

His breath is knocked out of his lungs in a silent punch, eardrums pushing out all the sound attempting to penetrate his ears. His fingers loosen so much they almost drop his water, feeling tingly numb. Tony's eyes, large and surprised, trace the circle of gold curled around Steve's fourth finger, gleaming softly against the artificial light around the dining room.

Steve is still wearing his ring.

But then, his chest burns and booms, heart roars fiercely behind his ribcage as he notices the thin string of black leather circling around Steve's neck, loose as a necklace, hanging low enough for Tony to eye the shape of metal halo looped right in the middle of the material.

Steve was wearing Tony's ring, too.

The realization left him petrified in place, more statue than man, in stunned shock as he bore into his former lover who only then noticed the brown eyes looking at him, transparent astonishment clear as crystal in his features.

It's like a spell breaks.

Tony's limbs move mechanically, on autopilot, running to the nearest room, getting himself away from what his body detects as danger. Urgency is packed on his step, taking him to the bathroom in record time, but Steve's always been the runner, more athletic between them, and his sprinting lands him a spot in the sleat Tony wass about to slam.

He's pinned to a wall effective immediately, feels cold tiles plant clammy kisses on the back of his head and neck. Tony almost hisses at the force of the slam, but before he can make a peep, his lips are stolen in a savage, fierce kiss.

It's pure desperation conveyed in the most unconventional way. Steve pounces on him, lips wild against Tony's own, pouring every emotion he went through in the past few months,- Longing, yearning, craving, hunger, desire, - his being, his love, his soul into that kiss, barely giving Tony the chance to breathe.

"St-Steve, " He gasps, head tilting slightly to the side to escape the ministrations, to gulp air, moving to avoid the chase at reconnection Steve is playing at by trying to capture his lips again. "Wait, wait a minute, -"

"Missed you, " Steve's voice is thick with want, hitching in the small puffs of air that came off raggedy and breathless, words melting over Tony's mouth. Steve's face glows with a blush he wants to kiss with inhuman greed. "I missed you, I missed you,Tony I missed you" Tony's fucked.

#wHAT UP ITS 5 AM AND I CAN'T SLEEP #my writing #writing #stevetony #stony #mcu #marvel #alternative universe #tony stark #iron man #steve rogers #captain america #bucky barnes #peter parker #pepper potts #rdj #robert downey jr #chris evans #natasha romanoff #avengers #fluff #romance #angst #james rhodes #blackpepper #iron bros #iron falcon #friendship #sam wilson

[kuroharada]

For the fic thing can we get Muzan punishing his S/O for being disobedient and acting up? Can be NSFW if you want...

I was hoping there would be a request for some Muzan! The devil himself is probably in love with this man, so you can bet that I am! I did struggle a little bit with this one, so I hope it’s okay!

GENERAL WARNING: There is going to be plenty of violence, but nothing NSFW.

BONUS: The song I listened to while I was writing this!

DEMON SLAYER

MUZAN KIBUTSUJI

The first thing you learned about this man: It really didn’t take much to upset him. Every time you made even the slightest mistake, he would waste no time “correcting” you. Typically this came as a harsh strike to the face - a large gash that took its time to heal up. “Mercy” didn’t seem to be a part of his vocabulary and he was always cold as ice despite declaring that he held love for you on a regular basis. You would have given anything to never hear him utter those words again, but you had no say in the matter. You hadn’t made the choice to be here, he had made the choice to bring you here. You were never allowed freedom of any kind, and you never would be. Not like when you were still human.

So when you spoke up in protest of his order to his subordinates to kill your old peers, it came as no surprise that he simply looked at you with rage in his eyes and sent the other demons on their way. You couldn’t help trembling as he stared at you in silence. It was almost more terrifying when he said nothing than when he was demanding things from you.

“You interrupted me,” he finally said. “Explain.”

Eyes like pinwheels - spinning with deep fury - he awaited your response. Whether you said something or not, you were in for it. The silence was horrifying, the sound of your blood pumping through your veins positively deafening in your ears. There was no right answer, you had come to know. You had done something unforgivable in going against him, it didn’t matter how minuscule the offense.

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

“Are you afraid?”

You were petrified by his gaze, held in place by the fear of being bisected again, a fear he had been all too willing to introduce in you. You knew that no matter what was to come, you wouldn’t be enjoying the next few hours. Not that you were ever allowed the luxury of “enjoying” things anymore. He seemed determined to control everything he possibly could, and that was just what he did. You stopped being a “person” the moment he took an interest in you.

Your silence fueled something in him.

“I give you the opportunity to speak your piece,” his tone never changed, “And you give me silence in return?”

“I’m sorry...”

Accompanied by a horrid burning sensation and the smell of blood was the realization that he had just torn your throat out. You heard yourself make a strange, desperate gurgling sound and saw him lick the blood from his fingertips. You could never tell what you saw reflected in his eyes, but your mind immediately jumped to the word “hungry” this time.

“Is that all you can say? How many times do we have to play this game before you learn your lesson?”

The wounds on your throat had almost closed up, your chest soaked in blood, but now your arm was missing. You heard yourself scream when the pain finally hit you. He held the missing piece by the wrist, simply looking down at you as a mouth on his chest disposed of it before disappearing as if it had never been there in the first place. He observed carefully, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips as he listened to your pained gasps and whimpers. It would grow back in a matter of time, of course, but he was content knowing that it would take a somewhat considerable amount of time to do so.

“Forgive me!” You heard yourself cry out before you could bite your tongue, “Forgive me!”

“Are you trying to give me an order?”

“N-no!”

He said nothing as he drank in your suffering, and then he was behind you. Before you had a chance to react, he had pulled you to your feet and held you in place by your remaining arm. You could feel his chest against your shoulder and you could hear his breathing quicken ever so slightly. He ran his nails up your arm and along your chest before closing his fingers around your neck, forcing your head back as he brought his nose to the angle of your neck, grazing your flesh with his lips. You could feel him watching your involuntary reactions closely. You didn’t dare to move, afraid that he might tear out your throat again, or take the other arm if you weren’t careful enough.

“You’re so easy to read. Tell me, do you fear me?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to voluntarily speak, so you nodded your head.

“Pitiful.”

He wanted you to be afraid of him. He told you that was how you were supposed to feel, that it’s how your love for him should manifest. He wanted you to worship and revere him as you would a God, seeing as that was what he was in your new world. He had made you into a monster, forever imprisoning you in a life of his design. It had been so long since you had seen even the stars, and you had come to wonder whether their existence would ever matter again. You longed to see something other than these twisted walls and his cold face. Someone that wasn’t his direct subordinate. His scent was ingrained in your mind and you had long since given up on searching for any others. You had given up on searching for anything that you could consider “pleasant” in all of this.

You felt him pull back just a little, and then swiftly sink his fangs deep into your shoulder. Unable to hold back a scream, your body attempted to wrench itself from his grasp unsuccessfully. He held you in place easily as he began to gnaw at your flesh. You felt his teeth tearing the sensitive tissue to shreds and heard him give a satisfied chuckle. When his teeth cracked bone, he quickly threw his head back, tearing a large chunk out of your shoulder. He always made sure it would heal, but it took a great toll on what was left of your sanity to have him devour pieces of your body so often as he did. You came to dread it growing back in the fear that he would simply take it away again.

Your arm had returned, and he quickly took it by the wrist when you subconsciously attempted to claw at his fingers, still wrapped tightly around your neck. He was a beast, but he was almost never beastly. This was something you had grown to be grateful for, though you sometimes wished he would just finish you off when he tore your body apart so casually.

Upon being released, you immediately fell to the floor and curled in on yourself, unable to bring your hand to touch the fresh wounds as you felt them slowly heal, the sensation being something like squirming maggots.

He wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand as he looked down at you.

“You truly are pathetic. You crave death like a starving dog, I can see it in your eyes. You’re ungrateful, disobedient. Are you sorry now, too? Are you suffering enough to remember your place?”

Suddenly, his hands slammed down on either side of your head and you were met with a horrible, spiteful smile directly above you. You would never grow used to displays of emotion from him, joy being the one you dreaded the most. When he smiled, he was watching you bleed and cower before him. You supposed he was right about your weakness, but you wondered who would behave differently if they were in your situation. He wiped tears from your cheek with his thumb, holding your face in his hand as he gazed deep into your eyes for any sign of the fire you had shown when you spoke against him.

“Beautiful...”

It was so easy to forget that he “loved” you - he never gave any sign to indicate anything other than animosity. He didn’t bother hoping for you to reciprocate. He never had to “hope” for anything. In fact, it seemed he was glad that you were so afraid of him. He held the firm belief that that’s how it was supposed to be. If you were afraid of him, you would behave, and if you behaved, you would be perfect, and if you were perfect, you wouldn’t experience such intense pain. That being said, he expected you to love him, of course. It wasn’t an option, it was a demand. He was perfection incarnate, so your unconditional love was no question.

“Have you given in? Are you going to submit? I can see the defeat in your eyes. You should be thanking me for showering you in my attention.”

You had no choice, so you gave a weak, “Thank you...”

He looked content, pulling back to stand as he pulled you to your feet, taking you into his chest and resting his hand on your shoulder where the missing piece had grown back. In stark contrast to his previous demeanor, his face looked soft and gentle. You wished you didn’t find that comforting, knowing full well that it was entirely false. When he wasn’t hurting you, he was pretending you had a perfect life together and expected you to follow along.

“You must be hungry, hm? Just wasting away... Come, why don’t we spend the rest of the night together? I brought you a treat.”

With that familiar note sounding off, you turned to see what he was talking about, your eyes widening with an audible gasp. 

The “treat” he had brought you was one of your old friends.

He smiled down at you coldly.

“Dig in.”

#muzan #muzan imagines #muzan kibutsuji #muzan kibutsuji imagines #yandere imagines #fic requests #possibly triggering content #Anonymous

[star-killer-md]

Dream a Little Dream of Me Pt. 5

oh MY GOD. I swear this update bent me backwards and fucked me harder than Kylo Ren ever could. Like dear sweet jesus I don’t know why it was so hard for me to get this shit out of my brain and onto my google doc but she really just wasn’t having it. Anyway, here it is. Not entirely certain if I’m all the way happy with it, but it what it is and hopefully the weird symbolism and imagery came across well. I’m an english major so I can’t like not input that shit into my writing even if its a Kylo Ren smut fic. I hope you all enjoy this mess of an update. You’ve all been incredibly sweet and supportive and like you’re just great people. My lovely coworker beta’d this for me and more than one old woman definitely overheard us talking about Kylo’s dick while at work. 

As a side note, I am new to the game of writing smut for the most part (and like long form fic) and I want to branch out Into writing more kinks and such, so if there is anything you want to see from me, please send a message! I need the practice 😂

AO3 Mirror

Part 4

Warnings: nsfw, violence against the reader, violence against Kylo, they may or may not have a physical altercation in this, minor blood mentions (like very minor), dirty talking, inappropriate use of the Force, lots of angst, like oh god so much, cockwarming if you squint, some amount of softness cause the author is a little bitch 

Ship: Kylo Ren x Negotiator!Reader

Word Count: 7.6K (buckle up babes)

He wasn’t looking at you. 

He hadn’t looked at you all morning. 

You were looking though, couldn’t stop looking. Ever since you’d woken to find your bed empty and the Commander sat on the couch across from you, scrolling mindlessly through his datapad. There was a plate with crumbs left scattered on its surface and cup on the nightstand beside him.

You thought it might have been coffee. It was odd to think of him eating or drinking, for some reason you’d assumed before he didn’t need too. That seemed foolish now that you knew just how real he was. 

How did he take it, you wondered. With cream? Sugar to ease the bitterness? Or did he like the way it burned and tingled without anything to numb its acidic sting. 

On the small table in the corner, a silver room service tray sat abandoned. The fresh fruit was growing warm, filling the room with a sickly sweet scent that couldn’t even begin to cover the stench of avoidance that hung in the air. 

He hadn’t spoken to you all morning either. 

You both had yet to speak. 

You might have asked about the coffee, but then you noticed the very clear indent of a head on the pillow beside you. A few black hairs stood out starkly against the cream colored sheets. 

And then you remembered. 

Someone’s breath washing warm over your face, the glimpse of him bare from the waist up, your favorite mole, the shower water pounding over pink skin, his name in your mouth— 

And it became clear why he wasn’t saying anything. 

Because he knew what you’d done. 

And you knew he knew. 

And he knew that you knew he knew. 

It felt horribly awkward breaking the stillness of the room, so you didn’t move from the bed. Just sat up, letting the covers pool in your lap as the fruit slowly rotted and neither of you spoke a word. Once you thought he might have glanced at you from the corner of your eye, but when you turned, he quickly looked back down at the glowing screen in his lap. 

Eventually, you’d had enough. Throwing the sheets off your bare legs, you climbed out of bed and padded quietly into the refresher. You shut the door with a click and heard the immediate shuffling of fabric from outside. Soft footsteps and the sound of pouring liquid filtered in from the main room, but the extra clink of a spoon stirring or the dripping of cream was decidedly absent. 

He drank it black, then. 

The thought settled heavily in you. 

Your reflection in the mirror was pitiable, puffy, tired eyes staring back at you blankly. You ran the water, splashing some on your face and tried not to think about what you’d ‘seen’ the Commander do in the shower behind you last night. 

But one look at the slate gray tiles had images of his hand curling against them, the other wrapped around— 

You buried your face in one of the hand towels and groaned into it. Was he staring at your empty bed and thinking the same thing? Were scenes of you writhing on the sheets playing themselves on loop in the Commander’s head? Could he feel the lingering want for him in the air around you?

Outside the door, you heard something that sounded suspiciously like Ren choking on his coffee. 

Staring down into the basin, you felt a terrible realization cresting over the horizon. He knew about last night—that was a given. You had heard him, seen him, felt him in some ethereal way you could not explain. He’d been in you too, a presence in your head, an audience to all that you thought of him. 

But was that really the first time?

Because—now that you thought about it, really stopped and breathed it all in—the empty, lonely, half-filled and never completed feeling that sat deeply in your bones was only ever gone when he touched you—only ever relieved when he visited you in your sleep. 

And you had been blessedly free of it last night, when you lay breathless and trembling with a pleasure that did not belong to you. 

In fact, you did not feel it even now.

You thought of his face. Too identical, every mole and freckle right down to your favorite of them in the same place. The same eyes, same angle of his teeth, same ears just a bit too big and hair that fell in his face. The same baby curls by the crown of his head. 

It was simply impossible for your mind alone to have crafted such a perfect replica. 

There was no denying it. 

And it was only now dawning on you—that, in fact, it had always been him. 

The Commander Ren who drank black coffee and did everything in his power to enrage you at a moment's notice was one and the same with the Kylo who had plagued your mind for months. Whom you had not so secretly craved like he was ambrosia and you, a starving mortal at his feet. 

Your breath shook as it filled your lungs and clawed its way back out like the secret of it was trying to burst free from its prison in your ribcage. 

Outside, the Commander was moving again, and you listened, feeling the pull in each step—like he was walking through honey. 

The soft swish of his pants was the only sound apart from your shallow breathing. There was something alive in the air and it was waiting. 

The shadow of his feet came to a halt outside the door and you heard the soft thump of his hand resting against it. You were compelled by a force—the Force maybe—some unknowable tugging in your veins. Your feet found their way to stand toe to toe, palm to palm with Kylo Ren, nothing but the thin wood of the door between you. 

There was a stillness settling in the room, and when you closed your eyes, you could see it. 

He was there, clear as the void of space and twice as lovely—standing, staring through the barrier between your bodies. And you felt him see you too. Felt yourself full to the brim and fantastically whole. 

You wanted to touch him. 

Needed to touch him. 

And you knew he would let you. 

Because he always had before and you couldn’t stop your hand from pushing against the wood, prying it away to reveal Kylo, your Kylo, your Commander to you and then— 

Then it all shattered. 

The door between you was flung nearly off its tracks as someone rapped twice loudly from the hall. You barely had time to register the awful sinking sensation, like a knife carving you in two as the Commander met your eyes for the first time that morning and you felt nothing.  

The knocking came again and you gazed at him frantically. 

“Get in,” you hissed under your breath.

He stared at you with his pretty brown eyes, frowning like he always did. The man before you was simply your uncooperative Commander who could do nothing but cause unnecessary inconvenience. There was no more glimmer in his gaze to tell you the last few minutes hadn’t been just another dream. 

Your eye twitched as you stepped out past him and gestured towards the empty space left behind. 

“I’m sorry, would you like to be found out?”

The tapping on the door repeated itself and you pointed harshly at the bathroom until he finally slipped inside, knocking his shoulder into you as he went. You shut the door a little harder than strictly necessary.  

A familiar voice called to you from outside. 

“Miss Negotiator?” 

When you’d opened the door, Lem Alba was standing in the hall just outside. In his hand he held a small package. 

You apologized politely, “I was just about to get in the shower.” 

“Ah,” he nodded. “I won’t keep you too long then, just came to deliver this and to let you know that Representative Gahl has invited you to travel with his personal security team tomorrow morning.” 

“Oh, right,” you tried not to sound disappointed that he hadn’t forgotten your conversation, and took the parcel from his hand. 

It wasn’t that the gesture was entirely unusual, but Gahl didn’t exactly strike you as someone important enough to warrant a whole team of guards. You thought anxiously of Atreus. 

An example. 

“Why with his personal team, may I ask?”

“Well, I probably shouldn’t tell you this” Lem looked up and down the hall before leaning in conspiratorially, “but one of the staff was found dead a few hours ago, so we’re increasing protection to some of the more high ranking individuals.”

The shock on your face was mostly genuine, “Shit, that’s horrible.” 

Lem nodded and sighed, leaning up against the door frame, “Yes, well that’s what we’ve been dealing with all morning.” 

You chuckled, “Don’t you just love doing jobs that aren’t yours?”

That’s why I’m here, you almost said but thought better of it. Something told you your audience wouldn’t appreciate the comment. The hard, invisible pinch on your thigh confirmed your suspicions. 

“You got that right,” he mumbled and stood up straight. “And I should get back to it.” 

“Of course,” you gave him a thin smile and moved to close the door but Lem’s hand caught it at the last second. 

“Let me know,” he cleared his throat, “if that’s not the right fit. I can have another sent up.” 

Glancing down at the package in your hand, you felt your face grow hot, “I will.” 

You meant to shut the door quietly, Lem still smiling at you from the other side, but the knob was ripped from your hand and it slammed closed with a bang. After a few seconds you heard the bathroom door slide open revealing Kylo Ren, taking up the entire archway. 

His size might have intimidated you if you hadn’t been so angry. 

“Care to explain yourself, sir?” you’d asked, all mercy and craving for him dying away as he stared at you blankly, jaw set on edge. It really was so amazing how this man could flip your moods like a switch. Night and day. Your hatred of him was forever inevitable. 

“I should ask you the same, officer.”

Outwardly he looked unfazed, eyes flicking to the package in your hand, but you’d seen him like this back on the Finalizer. The eerie calm before he snapped like a bowstring and left destruction in his wake. Before the bodies of officers who wronged him littered the floor and you were left to clean up the rubble.

You were walking on thin ice and it was cracking. 

You took another step. 

“If you’re insinuating that I’m the one jeopardizing our position here, then you are sorely mistaken,” your voice came out in a harsh whisper and grated your throat. 

The coffee cup on the nightstand rattled. 

“Remind me,” he took a menacing step towards you, “who here was it that agreed to leave the district with a group plotting against the Order?”

You met him head on, “I’m sorry you’re so woefully ignorant of diplomatic proceedings, but it wasn't exactly as if I had a choice.”

Cracks skittered up the porcelain as Kylo’s hands flexed, curling into fists at his sides. A rush of slick warmth flooded you at the sight. You tried to beat down the rising wave of sick arousal, but truly you couldn’t help it. Not when he looked at you with those pretty eyes blown wide and black with some dangerous suggestions. Not when his fingers were biting into his palms and you were imagining the marks they could leave on you. 

“Watch your mouth,” he gritted out each word, perfect teeth flashing behind his pink lips. 

You didn’t. 

“At least I know not to leave a body for them to find!”

The slight twitch of his eye was the only warning you got before the cup across the room splintered. Shards sharp as knives exploded out in an arch catching on your clothes and littering the rug. In the same split second Kylo Ren pounced like a predator on the hunt. His fist connected with the wall next to your head, dusting the side of your face with paint chips as it crumpled under his hand. 

You stared, gaze flicking between his shaking arm sticking out of the newly formed hole in your wall and his wild eyes—feral, lovely. 

For a minute, neither of you moved, just stood breathing each other's breaths and waiting. Again, he was only inches from you and you wished that you’d gotten to glimpse him before. That you could have slid the barrier between you aside and seen him soft and melting instead of untamed and steel hardened. 

But it seemed neither of you could let go of this savage security blanket of rage for each other. 

And if this was the closest to him you could get, that would have to be enough. 

You felt yourself draining, deflating, shrinking and cast your eyes down in surrender. Kylo pushed off the wall a second later, turning his back to you and burying his hands in his hair. He folded onto the sofa, legs spread and elbows on his knees. 

You’d seen him like this in a dream once, held his face in your hands and begged for him to take you. 

His eyes flicked to you still standing against the wall. 

“You’ve done this before,” he mumbled into his palms. 

You gaped. 

“Um, could be more specific, sir?” 

The look that comment elicited nearly turned you to stone. 

“Oh, if you’re talking about the strategic murder of political elites,” you let out an uneasy laugh and moved to perch on the edge of the bed, “then yes, I’ve arranged them.”

 You weren’t exactly proud of that, but it came with the job description. Par for the course as they say.

It was a dirty thing to do in the world of politics, and you felt much more satisfied when you had properly manipulated your opponent into submission rather than just killing them off. Your throat began to grow tight at the thought of yourself, shot in the back walking away from the mediation table. Just like the man who had this job before you.

Everything in the First Order came stained with blood and you were being called to pay the piper. 

What goes around comes around...as they say. 

“And?” his short tone brought you out of your stupor. 

You furrowed your brow, “Commander, are you asking me how I’d plot my own kidnapping and murder?”

He waved his hand for you to continue as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be asking. You supposed, in this world it was. 

“Alright then,” you sighed and flopped back on the mattress. “I would do it somewhere big, somewhere with an audience so the message gets across. Instill fear and go out with a bang.” 

Kylo’s head shot up, “They're planning on broadcasting the campaign announcement and the Order’s endorsement.”

“What?” you lifted your head off the pillows. “Did the dead body tell you that?”

“He wasn’t dead at the time,” Ren clapped back and pushed himself up in one smooth motion. 

He reached for his helmet sitting by the arm of the couch and slipped it over his head without a word. You watched him replace his layers, clipping the large belt in place and tugging on his boots. 

“Well, if I was going to kill me that’s when I’d do it,” you said, rolling on your side to watch him tighten the laces. 

Kylo didn’t say anything to that. Just stood and marched his way past the hole in the wall and stopped by the door. 

“Don’t—”

“Leave this room,” you interrupted. “I know.” 

The Commander huffed once, nothing more than an exhale of static and let the door click shut behind him. 

*** 

That was almost two days ago, and you hadn’t seen him since. 

Well, he’d certainly been there—the warm spot on your bed told you as much—but he was gone by morning and you’d left with the Representative and his team not long after. 

Currently, you were lounging in one of the large, soft chairs on your private balcony watching the waves and enjoying your first moments alone since arriving at the villa. Most of the day had been filled with hours upon hours of dull discussions where no one really wanted to hear what you had to say, but expected you to say something anyway. Finally, you’d been able to slip out while the rest of the staff sat down for drinks in the drawing room. 

The sound of the sea drifted up from the shore and settled around you, blanketing the small deck in a layer of artificial calm. The sun had begun its descent, and the water glimmered golden in it’s dying light. 

Now, there was just you and the ocean and your thoughts. 

Which, if you were honest with yourself, wasn’t that much of an improvement. 

Because you were thinking of him. 

Because that’s all you ever did anymore. 

Thinking of how you wished he was here and how you never wanted to face him again. Thinking of how you wished everything was simpler. 

And how you didn’t wish that at all. 

It was true, at first Kylo Ren had been nothing to you. His existence was more of a myth, a legend that you heard whispered, but was easy to disbelieve. How could a man like that exist, you’d thought. People didn’t live off of blood and waves of rotting bodies, they didn’t feed on power or bend the very fabric of the universe to their will. 

But they did drink coffee, and brush their teeth, and sleep beside you when they thought you wouldn’t remember. Real people tied their shoes and put holes in your wall when you talked out of turn. 

You thought of your first dreams of him, when Kylo was still soft and kind and not wholly himself—warm and gentle and lacking. You thought of him filling out around the edges, becoming clearer and sharper in words and reality. You thought of him cursing you, of holding his touch hostage and making you come apart cruelly empty of his skin. It was as if you were summoning something old and dark, drawing him more completely to you with each ritual. Everytime you came with his name in your mouth, another hook sunk and dragged him in. 

As if whatever had placed him there had taken its time, pulling pieces of him into your head until even when you were conscious, it was impossible to keep him from slipping into the forefront of your mind. 

And now that you’d been given a taste of it—of relief from the awful pit that drained you dry and was never satisfied—you were shaking again, ravenous like a starved animal with the loss. 

You got the distinct feeling there would always be something standing in between you and the Commander. Always something, always something, always something keeping you just a hair's breadth apart—making sure your palms never quite touched. 

It wasn’t enough to just hate him anymore, to feel your bones shake with the need to make him feel the same pain he inflicted on you. 

In your desperate attempt to craft something to fill the void in your small existence, Kylo Ren had become the tendons and threads which knitted you together into one, cohesive whole. 

You needed all of him, unencumbered, uninterrupted, raw and real with his teeth sunk into you. 

And really, how wrong was that?

Well, you knew the answer was most likely very wrong. But there was a reason you were good at your job and it wasn’t because you were in possession of a perfectly functioning code of ethics. 

You breathed in the salt spray off the sea and let it coat your lungs. The crashing of the waves rumbled in your chest like a drum beat, steady, sure, and comforting. No matter what, there would always be other worlds, other oceans, other lives that kept going even when yours did not. 

You were falling asleep, eyelids heavy and dropping every few seconds. 

And soon, you would dream. 

*** 

He was standing at the end of a dark hallway, just barely silhouetted by the strips of moonlight filtering through the windows.  His back was to you, so you called his name softly. When he turned, his face was blessedly bare and pale and shocked. 

“What are you doing here?” Kylo hissed. 

You stared in confusion as he moved swiftly down the hall, grabbing your arm and tugging until you stumbled behind him into a side passage. 

The second he stopped you wrenched your hand from his grasp. 

“What are you talking about?” you snapped and he whirled on you, massive, gloved hand clamping down over your mouth.

“Keep your voice down,” he said, caging you against the wall. 

The tip of his nose brushed against yours as he spoke. Your cries of protest were muffled by the soft leather, its smoke stained taste invading your tongue when you tried to speak. Shaking your head in his grasp, you manueved one of his fingers between your lips and bit down, hard. The fabric caught on your teeth as he ripped his hand away and cursed. 

“Fuck, you—!” a small trickle of blood dripped from the hole in his glove where your teeth had torn at the flesh. His eyes were venomous, “I told you not to leave your room.”

“I didn’t—” you were cut off abruptly as voices began to echo down the abandoned corridor. 

You both stared wide eyed at each other as the sound of footsteps approaching grew louder. Quickly, he stepped forward, pressing both your bodies flat against the wall. You didn’t dare breathe as two figures passed by your hiding spot in the shadows and entered the door at the end of the hall. 

Kylo was so close you could see his throat move as he swallowed, his chest right up against your face, the scent of him washing over you. Something hard was pressing into your thigh. You convinced yourself it was just his saber, despite the warm pulsing you felt every time you twitched against him. 

He was looking down at you, lips parted as though he might speak, but the voices filtering out from under the door drowned anything he might have said.

“Representative, we can’t be too hasty.” 

Each word dripped down your spine leaving a viscous and greasy trail. You knew that voice. 

An example. 

But why would you be dreaming about Gahl and his so-called advisor? 

“You aren’t dreaming,” Kylo whispered, exasperation clear as he spoke. His eyes bored into you, leaving behind painful trails wherever they darted across your skin. “Now shut your mouth before you get us caught.” 

His hand found your mouth again, his fingers prying it open and pressing hard down on your tongue. You gagged around them, the iron of his blood coating your teeth as he pulled harshly down on your jaw. It ached and popped but no sound escaped. 

You’d read somewhere before that you can’t feel pain in your dreams, but you certainly felt that. 

He was right. Not a dream then. 

You swallowed around Kylo’s fingers, hints of metal and smokey leather dripping down your throat. His eyes were fixed on your lips as they stretched around him. The warm, hard presence at your thigh ground into you by an almost imperceptible inch. 

“You said if we took the girl, he’d come.” 

It was Gahl this time, his voice rougher around the edges with age. You found yourself letting your hips curiously rock up just a hair while you listened for the slight hitch in the Commander’s breath you knew so well. 

Your heart nearly stopped at the sound—not his saber. 

“Ren will come sir,” Atreus purred. “I’m sure of it.” 

“How can you be so sure?” Gahl sounded unconvinced. 

You sucked lightly, letting your tongue trace a slow line in the gap between Kylo’s fingers. He growled low into your ear, “Behave.” 

Yeah, you thought, it’s really gonna be me who gives us away.

“I saw it sir, when he was here before, the girl was in his head.” 

That gave you pause, and you narrowed your eyes searching his face for any reaction. He remained blank but for the slight crease in his brow, and the shaking of his breath. Your mind raced at the implication. You’d certainly been aware that the Commander was constantly in your head, but you were almost entirely sure Kylo Ren hadn’t given you a second thought until very recently. 

“I still don’t understand what is so remarkable about that woman,” Gahl grumbled from behind the door. 

Well you certainly weren’t going to argue with him on that, although it felt a little unnecessary to keep bringing up just how expendable you were. 

“I can’t explain it either sir, but he’ll come for her. And if he doesn’t, her death will prove to be more than motivating enough to draw him in.” 

You felt like gagging at every word leaving that man's mouth. Kylo’s fingers in your mouth turned sour the longer you listened. 

“You had better not be wrong, Atreus,” Gahl warned, his tone darker and sharper than you’d ever heard from the old man. “I want that masked idiot dead and the First Order at my feet by the end of this election cycle.”

Every muscle in your body was tensed, clenched and pulled taught like a coil, your jaw clicked as you worked against the intrusion in your mouth. Suddenly the scent of him was too much—the air hanging heavy in your lungs and never quite exhaling fully. 

Gods, Kylo Ren really was the source of all your turmoil. 

Your tongue and teeth and lips pushed and bit against his fingers until he finally pulled them from your mouth. 

You were going to die here—you were going to die here and it wouldn’t mean anything. They were right, you were unimportant and your death would be nothing more than a blip in the First Order’s radar. And somehow Kylo Ren had managed to put you right in the middle of the crossfire. 

You needed to get away, couldn’t bear to hear whatever came next. 

“Get off me,” you hissed, wrestling against his hands trying to keep you in place. 

“Stay still—” His voice was sandpaper on your skin and you needed to leave, had to leave, had to get as far away as possible— 

“I said,” you managed to position your hands squarely on his chest and shoved with a surprising amount of force, “get off me!”

Kylo Ren stumbled, actually stumbled back and stared at you with an awful, bitter cocktail of shock and anger and something else you didn’t have the time or patience to place. Father down the hall, a door was opening and voices approached from the hall. 

Everything faded to black far before you ever heard what they said. 

***

You were on your feet before you could even open your eyes. 

The sea was calling and you were going to listen, the small stones of the shoreline sinking between your toes as you rushed down the small path from your room. Waves were crashing in pairs when you finally made it to the water's edge, stripping your evening clothes off piece by piece like shedding skin, needing to be free. 

Free of nothing. 

Free of everything. 

The salt spray churned and rolled over your ankles and calves as you waded out into the sea. Something was pulling you, stronger than the currents, tugging you out into deeper water and you let it until your head sank below the surface and the sound of muted thunder waves roiling was a cacophony in your head. 

You were drifting, mind and body being tossed about. 

Confused—reality doesn’t have a clear border anymore and you couldn’t be sure what had happened and what hadn't, what should have happened but didn’t. 

Scared—you didn’t want to die, it wasn’t something you’d thought of before despite the nature of your employment, but you realized now that it was never your strength or wit keeping you alive, just luck. 

Angry—boiling inside at the thought of your unshakeable insignificance.

Angry—unwilling to die over the wounded pride of men who constantly underestimated you.

Angry—at yourself for inexplicably wanting one of them anyway. 

You let out your breath and screamed. Let the bubbles leave your mouth in a rush of air and pent up frustrations. The rumbling shock of diluted sound waves reverberated in your chest. You shrieked until your ears popped and your lungs were empty and water rushed to fill the vacuum left behind. 

And for a few moments, when nothing remained inside you and the world was in a strange, unbalanced limbo, you felt it. Inside that crater within your soul that wept and lamented its lacking, there was a spark. Something bright and firecracker red like a lost ember which had forgotten the fire of its youth. 

And you knew what you needed to do to feed it, to let it burn, to fill yourself to the brim and overflow with totality. 

Your head broke the surface like an eggshell, water streaming into your eyes as you gasped in lungfuls of wind off the sea. Someone was shouting for you. Far on the shoreline, a massive black silhouette stood bathed in starshine and the moon.  

It took a moment for you to realize he was yelling at you.

“What are you doing?!” 

His voice barely carried over the rushing water and the sound of your arms splashing to keep you afloat. 

“None of your business,” you called, turning to swim farther out into the depths. 

You could hear his frustrated shout as the waves kicked up over his boots. 

“Get back here,” he snarled. 

You weren’t able to make out his face, but you were sure his lips were pulled back, bearing crooked teeth ready to rip your throat out. 

He might do just that with a little coaxing. That was fine with you. Your anger was one meant to be shared. 

“Make me.” 

You could feel him snapping even as you drifted deeper out to sea. He was fraying, about to break and you wanted it. Wanted him drowning in the same turmoil as you. 

“You want me to make you?” he was raging now, hands tearing at his clothes, “You want me to fucking make you?”

You watched as he was revealed to you and tumbled into the surf, incoherent fury sapping all the grace from his steps—demise personified parting the waters.  

The moon glinted off Kylo’s skin and he practically glowed with it. In spite of yourself, you thought he looked every bit a prince, so painfully handsome in his own, strange way–inimitable and all the more lovely for it. Inky black water swirled and the breakers crashed against the bare expanse of his chest, like the sea itself was desperate to steal a taste of him.

Something within you–scarlet and glimmering–stirred. 

Something that ached. 

Something that yearned. 

Something hungry.

You watched him wade towards where you were floating, felt the current shift and draw you to him like a sinking ship. In his eyes you saw that same spark, red and crackling and alive. There was a beast in his bones and it smiled. 

And you knew, you would let it take you. 

But not without a fight. 

You kicked and struggled against the Force pulling you to him, not certain if he was the one controlling it or if it had its own mind and movement. But it was a futile effort either way. He was on you in seconds, fingers like claws grasping your ankle and ripping you through the water to him. 

He growled and grabbed a fistful of your hair, dragging your head underwater without warning. But you flailed and felt your foot connect with the hard plane of his stomach and his grip on you slipped. 

“This is your fault,” you screeched when you came up again. 

He was heavier than you, larger and sunk faster in the deep water. You maneuvered your hands into his hair as well while he tried to stay above the surface and yanked him down—shouts turned to bubbles—until he raked his nails across your bare chest and the sharp pain made you let go. 

Kylo’s head connected with your jaw as he came spluttering to the surface and your mouth flooded with the metallic taste of blood. It dripped from your lips in a stream and you spat out a mess of red stained sea water, watching it splattered over his handsome face in rivulets. 

“You brought this on yourself, you arrogant little slut,” he roared, shaking your shoulders in his hands until the back of your hand cracked across his face. 

“I’m the slut?!” you shrieked. “You can’t even be in the same room with me without your dick getting hard!”

He was right now too, you could feel the prominent, warm pressure of his cock slotted against your stomach. And whether or not there was a heat building between your thighs at the thought of it was neither here nor there. 

Blood still dripped down your chin as you both ripped at each other's hair, slippery with sea salt and plastered to your skulls. 

“You think I can’t hear you begging for me,” his face is so close you can see all the hairline scars that ran through it, connecting the dots between his freckles. 

Your nose brushed against his, “I’m not the one avoiding the subject!”

His knee slipped hard into the space between your legs and you yelped. 

“You have no idea what’s at stake here,” he gritted through his teeth. 

“My life, asshole,” you bristled. “I’m gonna die here trying to fix the mess you started!”

Neither of you spoke after the words died on your lips, just floating and gasping with the exertion of staying afloat. In the following silence, with the adrenaline pounding behind your ears, Kylo’s eyes were locked onto yours—black pools like the dark water. 

Seconds passed and you let whatever dying flame was inside your chest grow until its heat under your skin was blistering and driving you forward into the only thing that would offer any relief. 

Kylo’s lips were plump and soft under yours as they crashed together, your teeth clacking with the impact. It didn’t matter, not when his tongue licking into your mouth was the most soothing sensation you’d ever felt. 

His hands were frantic, grabbing fistfuls of your flesh and pulling you as close to him as possible, leaving no inch of skin untouched. Your legs wound around his hips, locking ankles just above the lovely curve of his ass. He groaned into your lips and you felt it in your bones. 

Tell me, he spoke in your head, and it felt as though he had always belonged there. 

Your ribs were cracking open to let him spill in, to fill in all the holes that riddled you. 

Tell me, he repeated again and it sounded like praying. 

His teeth caught your lip, sucking blood into his mouth so you could be inside him too. And he was so hot against you, all pale naked and sinful. You’d never realized someone could feel so solid, so painfully real and not just a trick of the light in your mind. Arms of pure, corded muscle locked around your back and crushed you to him as his feet found purchase on the soft sand. 

The sea was spitting you back onto the shoreline, waves crashing over your entangled limbs. It was no longer clear where you ended and Kylo began. 

It was not close enough. 

Kylo, you whimpered hoping the connection went both ways and he would hear you too. 

I’m here, you felt the pebbles of the beach kick up as he stood out of the surf and walked you up the beach. I’m here, tell me. 

His mouth never ceased to move against yours, biting, sucking, drinking you down to soothe the burn of the salt. Between your bodies, his cock was twitching. And now that you were blessedly free of the water, you could feel yourself dripping with need for him. 

You’d been this close once before, but it hadn’t felt anything like this. 

Kylo walked you up the beach, kneeling down in front of his pile of discarded clothes and landing in a heap on top of you. He ground his hips down, the tip of his length catching on your clit. The sound you made was inhuman, pure desire. 

The rocks of the beach bit into your back through his cloak, but you hardly noticed when his lips wandered down your neck. He growled and sunk his teeth into the flesh between your shoulder and neck, sucking a mark into your skin you would never be able to hide. 

You reared up, ready to paint more bruises on his skin when a hand closed around your throat and slammed you back into the earth. 

Tell me or you can’t touch, he groaned. 

You huffed and whined when he pinned your wrists in one hand above your head. No matter how hard you pulled, you couldn’t break his grip and you knew before he must have been letting you hit and kick and scratch at him. Must have liked it. 

You squirmed at the thought. 

His lips ghosted over your collarbone, other hand skimming up to palm at your breasts. Kylo’s mouth closed over a nipple, rolling it on his tongue and nipping when you bucked your hips into him. 

You watched him lap at your skin, loving the wet streaks he left behind. 

I hate you, you shot back. 

He smirked against your chest and moved on to torment your other breast, all the while grinding his cock between your soaked lips, coating himself in you. 

Lying won’t get you anywhere, he punctuated the statement with a particularly hard thrust over your clit. 

The slide of it was delicious and maddening and you needed more. 

I’m not lying, you said, although the string of moans leaving your mouth when he circled the tip of his dick over your entrance was not at all convincing.He pushed in just barely, never hard enough to actually grant you any relief. 

I know a lie when I hear one, his voice was velvet and it was driving you off the edge. 

But you would fight till the very end. It was one of your few redeeming qualities. 

Fuck you. 

That’s a bit more accurate, yes. 

He chuckled darkly resting his head on your sternum so he could watch as you helplessly rolled your hips while his cock remained frustratingly not in your pussy. 

Fine, you signed and he flicked his eyes back to your face. 

Kylo’s movements stilled and he pulled his hands back, leaning down to rest on his elbows above you. Some of his pretty sea-curled hair tickled your nose. 

“II wantwant youyou,” you whispered feeling it echo through whatever presence was allowing you to transfer your thoughts without really speaking. 

His breath hitched in that beautiful way that you loved. 

And then you were screaming—really truly screaming—his hand clamping down on your mouth to stifle the noise. 

But the wave of otherworldly pleasure and searing pain that washed over you when he thrust his hips, cock sinking into your cunt to the hilt in one swift motion was entirely too much bare. 

Though, Kylo was not faring much better. His face fell into the crook of your neck and he groaned into the skin. He didn’t move for a few moments, and you felt your walls tighten around him. He was massive, you’d known that, but never had you expected to feel so full.

You cared very little then, about whether or not you were going to die on this godforsaken planet, not if he could fuck you like this. Not if you got to feel Kylo Ren in every conceivable part of your body. 

He let out a shaky breath into your neck and pulled himself up. 

“I’m going to ruin you,” he gasped, drawing his cock out of you until only the tip remained sheathed in your warmth. “Ruin this pretty little pussy for anyone else.” 

Kylo slammed back into you, making your tits bounce as his hips slapped against your ass. You knew he was right. There would be no coming back from this—for him or you.  

“No one will ever feel like I do,” you retorted, clenching harder around him as he worked up a steady rhythm. 

You watched the muscles in his abdomen twitch as you tightened yourself and he reared back on his knees, grabbing your waist with his massive hands and hoisting your lower body off the ground. 

The new angle stretched you even more and every thrust caught that elusive spot inside you that had your thighs trying to snap shut against his hips. 

“Fuck, Kylo!” you cried, as shameless as always. 

“What?” he grunted. “You want it harder? Want me deeper?”

“Yesyesyesyesyes,” you babbled, needing anything he would give you. 

Kylo delivered on your request. You felt him in your stomach, each thrust was quick and sharp and angled just right and you had never felt anything like you did now. 

He was in your head still, his presence was warm and glowed a dim, sultry red that made your mind hazy—illuminated parts of yourself you’d thought were forgotten. Passion, that’s what he felt like, deep and forbidden. Delicious truth. 

“You keep saying you aren’t a whore, but look how well you’re taking my cock,” Kylo mused. 

You knew you were in his head too, could feel yourself leaking in through the cracks. He was thinking about how magnificent your pussy felt swallowing his length, how badly he wanted to cum in you, claim you and make you keep his release inside. 

There was fear there too. 

Longing and something darker. 

You wanted to take it away. 

“Only for you,” you muttered between thrusts, crying out when the Force loosed it tendrils over your skin. A shapeless finger rolled and teased your clit while two others kneaded at your chest. 

“You’re a whore just for me?” he was coming unhinged, you could sense it in the way his cock was pulsing in you. 

You nodded, bringing a hand to rest over his on your waist.

“Good girl.” 

He threw his head back, and you admired the lovely angle of his throat against the night sky. The Force on your clit was unrelenting and you wouldn’t last much longer, the tight coil of pleasure was building in your gut and spreading through your veins like quicksilver. 

“Kylo, I’m gonna—” you were cut off by his hand grabbing you by the hair and crushing you up into his chest. 

He sat your ass on his knees and lifted you up, dragging you back down onto his cock. You were like a rag doll in his hands as he wrapped his arms around your back and slammed you down. There was no space left between your bodies, nothing but the slide of your sweat slicked skin and his breath on your face. 

Even surrounded by the scent of sex and the sea you could still smell fresh mint lingering on his tongue. 

That might have been what finally sent you toppling over the edge. Or maybe it was the look on his face—brows furrowed and lips parted in a pleasure only you could bring him. Or maybe it was just the finality of it all. 

That Kylo Ren was unequivocally and irreparably linked to you now in some way. Be it through the blood in your mouths or his cock painting your insides with cum as you sobbed and clenched around him, circling in a feedback loop of each other’s orgasm. He was panting in your ear, spewing curses you couldn’t comprehend and fucking you through your release and his. 

This was something bigger than it seemed, you knew it when you heard him grunt your name while his mouth latched back on to the mark on your neck. Knew it when the glowing red presence in your head didn’t fade and the empty feeling you’d called friend all these years didn’t return. 

Knew it when he let you stay wrapped in his arms for a few precious seconds, his softening length still filling you with its pleasant, stinging warmth. 

Knew it when you felt the softest press of his lips to your neck when he lifted his head and pressed yours to his chest with a massive hand. 

His heart beat steadily under all the bone and sinew. 

It wasn’t until then that you became consciously aware he had one. 

“You aren’t going to die,” he whispered. 

And you wished you could believe him. Almost said so, but the words never came out, got lost somewhere in between your lips and how his skin was so much softer than you ever imagined it would be. Then he was pressing two fingers to your temple, a wave of unwilling sleep falling over you in a lovely, red blanket. 

And this time, you didn’t dream.  

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

Taglist lovelies:

@thewilddingleberries​ @contesa-lui-alucard​ @obsessionprofessional​ @kit-jpg​ @findyourdarkness​

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagines #kylo ren x female reader #not canon compliant #star wars #reader insert #star wars sequel fic #kylo smut #kylo ren smut #dr. b writes

[frostedfaves]

Let It Happen (7)

Masterlist

Pairing: Amy Santiago x fem!reader

Summary:  Amy made the mistake of dating Teddy and vowed immediately after to never date another guy on the force again. Luckily, her new coworker is a woman. Reader insert with fem!reader, told entirely from the point of view of Amy Santiago. Doesn’t follow the show plot line and no Peraltiago.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: none, just real soft

A/N: sorry this took so long but I hope you still enjoy it!

-

I did it.

I finally went on a date with a woman.

And not just any woman, no. I went on a date with the first woman in which I’ve been able to create some type of reality from my daydreams. The first woman I’ve held and kissed and longed for more the moment it ended. All we did was talk over food, laugh, and continue to kiss and it was the best night I’ve ever had in my life because suddenly she was mine.

Even with knowing how official things are, I wanted to take my time. I expected a fight with this, as I’d experienced with everyone I’d dated in the past. I always had to dance around the subject, pushing away when hands moved too fast or politely declining to meet families after a terrible first date. One look at me and she knew everything I wanted, needed and more.

I quickly discovered she’s a very touch starved individual. Physical touch is something I crave, but my newly labeled girlfriend seems to survive on it. When her fingers weren’t carrying fries or a burger to her mouth, they were laced between mine. At some point after she finished eating, she made her way to my side of the booth and settled in with my arm around her. I didn’t mind a bit.

My hand rested on her knee as I drove, her own palm keeping it warm as she quietly sang along to the radio once again. I kept my eyes on the road but my ears became funnels, pouring in every sound but only holding onto her voice. I wish there was some way to fossilize it.

“I had such a great time tonight.”

The words brought me to the realization that I’d parked in front of her building for the third time that night. I watched her hand as it reached out to turn the radio down, continuing on to hold the side of my face. Instinctively melting me. I took hold of the hand, leaving a trail of light (apparently ticklish) kisses from her palm, up her arm, to her shoulder, up the side of her neck and right to her cheek.

“What’d I do to deserve all this?” she giggled.

“Exist,” I told her in the most nonchalant of tones, hoping she’d hear it for the truth it was.

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

“Always.”

-

I sighed heavily as I went to unlock my apartment door the next night, not at all thrilled about coming home to be alone. I’d finally picked up a longtime hunted perp, and it turns out he was absolutely fucking stubborn. By the third hour of interrogation, I just advised Y/N to go to her own home tonight. After a six hour journey that eventually led to a desperately needed and detailed confession, I wanted nothing more to sink into the mattress as I wondered what my love was doing without me. After stepping inside and seeing a soft light coming from my bathroom, I had a feeling that wouldn’t be happening soon.

I kept my hand over my gun as I quietly approached, breathing out a sigh of relief as my eyes came across the sight of Y/N’s back to me.

“Babe, what are you doing here?”

She jumped slightly before turning to me with a smile. “Jesus Christ, you’re quiet. Welcome home!” She skipped over, slipping her arms around my neck as she left a gentle kiss on my lips.

“All this for me?” I asked as I took a look around. Tiny lit candles covered the toilet lid and one of the shelves in the tub, which was filled with soapy water and flower petals. A bottle of wine and a clean glass on the sink.

“Yep! I hope you don’t mind. Rosa told me where your spare key was and I had Charles text me when you finished your interrogation so I could start setting up. Don’t worry, I didn’t tell them anything about us.”

“I don’t mind,” I told her with a breathless laugh, giving her a slightly firmer kiss in return. “And I wouldn’t mind that either.”

“We can talk about that later, baby.” She pulled herself out of my arms, pushing me carefully toward the bath. “Now pour yourself a glass and get in! I’ll get dinner together, because I know you haven’t eaten.”

She was out of the room, closing the door behind her before I could respond. As I began to undress, I felt a prickle of tears at the corner of my eyes. We’ve been together not even a full 24 hours and this is the best treatment I’ve ever received. I couldn’t help but wonder if I deserved something (or someone) as precious as this. Couldn’t be sure, but I plan to protect it and her with everything that I have.

-

“Morning, Ames!”

I searched across the bullpen quickly, smiling as my slightly tired eyes met her bright ones, a shy wave directed toward me. My expression shifted into a frown as I watched her slip into the break room instead of approaching me with her usual hug. I sat my bag down at my desk, peeking to ensure she was alone before following her in.

“Is something wrong, babe?”

Her eyes widened slightly as she faced me from the coffeemaker, returning to normal as she took a deep breath.

“Yeah, sorry. I panicked.” She gave a quick glance at my confused look before turning all her focus to the mug she was holding on the counter. “We never got to talk about who we were keeping our relationship private from and I was afraid I’d slip up.”

“Hey, we don’t have to stay hidden if you don’t want to,” I assured her as I came closer.

“Yeah, but I know you like to keep your work and dating life separate.”

“That was before I had someone to be proud of dating.” I placed my hand on her free one with a grin. “Besides, I’m not the only one in this relationship. You’re allowed to have input on this, too.”

“Well in that case…” Her worried frown slowly transformed into a grin of her own as she stared at our hands. “I want everyone to know how proud I am to date you, too. If you’re comfortable with that.”

“I’ve never been more sure. Come on.”

I left a kiss on the side of her head just above her eyebrow, picking her hand up from the counter and pulling her behind me as I reentered the busy bullpen. Lacing her fingers with mine as she came to a stop beside me, I cleared my throat and amplified my voice over the noisy room.

“Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”

-

Tags: @gaulty74 @xetherealbeautyx

#amy santiago series #amy santiago imagine #amy santiago x fem!reader #amy santiago x reader #amy santiago #b99 fic #b99 imagine #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn nine nine imagine #b99 x reader #b99 fanfic #brooklyn nine nine x reader #jake peralta

[valkblue]

Being a Behavior technician requires a certain amount of dedication to the job — the rigorous type, bordeline rigid. That’s what is expected to be at peak efficiency regarding analysis protocols and diagnostics for host service and calibration.

For that, Vivian thinks she might be the worst tech in her department. 

— masterlist, AO3

Chapter 1 on 12

Chapter wordcount: 2,486 Story status: Complete Rating: General Warning: people swear a lot, technobabble counts as swearing as well (believe me)…

Author’s notes: This is the first time I post a fanfic online. A real big one I mean. Not just crackfics... I’m emotional. I don’t know what the schedule will be yet because my queue is acting up, but everything should be out regularly, or something that looks like it. This first chapter is an intro to the main character and what she does, and I hope you’ll enjoy this story and its characters all the way!  Also, I really want to thank @pheedraws​ and @something-tofightfor​ for their heartwarming feedback on the whole story. Thank you SO much!!

Have a good time reading, and my askbox/messages are open! 💙

— Chapter 1

Now wasn’t a good time to yawn…

And yet, Vivian had nothing else to do but wait right now, wait while the progress bars slowly filled up on her tablet screen.

Now wasn’t the time, simply because some of her colleagues were passing through the hallway, behind the glass panels of her cubicle, and among them was the head of Behavior department — incidentally, her superior.

No doubt they were all about to grab a bite at the restaurant and Vivian held back an almost envious mumble; she was starving! But before she could go eat anything, she had to finish with her last subject on her morning schedule; host ID#DH410829420391, named Mildred.

And Mildred was back at the lab on account of a negative report about her response time during interactions with other hosts but also with guests. A lag that only happened in character mode, not in analysis. So, Vivian started with refreshing her lexical base and improvisation engine. It took some time to check the entire tree but as of now, it was done.

"Can you confirm if the update’s complete?"

"Confirmed," Mildred answered right away, her voice flat and her look vacant.

"Back in character mode."

Mildred seemed to wake up and blinked once before focusing her attention  back on Vivian.

"Mildred?"

"Oh, I’m sorry," she answered with a hint of a shy smile. "I must have drifted off, I believe… The working hours at the farm are ungodly sometimes!"

The response time was more than good, now. The improvisation too.

"I was wondering if there’s a lot of clients at the farm these days," Vivian asked.

The answer was not long to come.

"Certainly! Our cattle sure gives the best milk there is. No matter what the competition says!"

"How many green bottles are standing on the wall?"

Questions and procedures were always more or less the same to determine which bits of code, settings or values could cause an issue or start to glitch like crazy!

But today, for Mildred — and Vivian — everything was back in order, and each/both of them could soon return to the the usual course of their scheduled day.

It was about time for Vivian to take a break, if she was reduced to that kind of wisecrack…

A glance at her wristwatch, even while her tablet displayed a more accurate time than the watch hands, and Vivian concluded her analysis. She folded the tablet, slid it back in her jacket pocket, and left the large glass room after one last embarrassed look at Mildred she was leaving there, naked in the dark. Vivian didn’t even fight down a shiver. It was actually freezing cold in there!

She comforted herself with the thought that Mildred didn’t feel anything in this state, disconnected, and that a team wouldn’t take too long to come get her, do her hair, dress her up and put her back in rotation in no time. Barely as much as Vivian had for her lunch break… and that was just enough to go all the way up to the hub restaurant. But the bosses here didn’t care much about how long the lunch breaks lasted, as long as the work was done in time.

So, Vivian didn’t hurry to get to the elevator she shared with two co-workers who only interrupted their chitchat about hockey results for a vague greeting.

At this hour, the restaurant was a bit more crowded but it still wasn’t too hard to find a seat in the large and relatively peaceful room. The whole vibe in it was corporate though, even in that staff only room; every dish were stamped with the park logo and name — from the bottom of the plates to the salt shakers — and a flat HD screen displayed a bunch of Delos branches ads that looked much weirder without sound.

After a while, one didn’t really pay attention to all this anymore… A few months was enough to make it all part of the landscape and for the mind to simply stop noticing it.

And Vivian had been working here for three years, now.

However, she was still bothered by a few details sometimes, such as the huge white walls that spanned all the way up a balcony floor and a domed ceiling or the fact that the stalls were lit with a pale light under which the food turned to a sickly colour.

Hopefully, under the less saturated lights of the main room, the Caesar salads and the turkey-tomato sandwiches were back to a more appetizing hue.

Her tray loaded with a potato-corn salad, a big glass of water and a piece of bread, Vivian walked towards the tables, eager for her potatoes to lose their blueish glint. Just shy of the screen, she recognised a familiar face, Margaret’s, another Behavior tech from her team. Both were on friendly basis now, where it was possible to enjoy some time together and to laugh a little, even if it took them a whole year to finally break the ice.

Margaret waved at Vivian when she saw her pick her way across the room, inviting her to join them — them being Margaret, and three other guys from their department.

"Did you hear the latest, Vivian!?" she blurted. "I’ve been told that Damon Dyers is in the park, at this very moment!"

"Damon… Dyers?"

Vivian didn’t even hide her puzzlement while sitting in front of her.

"The actor," one of the three guys — Luke — pointed out. "Marge was just exposing how she’ll mooch the control room techs for a footage…"

"Listen, if you were as thirsty as I am about this guy, you’d understand!" Margaret replied.

To that, he quipped:

"My husband would be pissed!"

All chuckled in approval before returning to their almost emptied plates, while Vivian had barely touched her own.

"Can you imagine," Margaret daydreamt, leaning back in her seat as in a comfy armchair, holding her Pyrex glass like a snifter of bourbon. "Damon hunting down Escaton in the hills…"

Vivian scoffed; she could imagine, indeed.

At the table, Charles, Thawal and Luke didn’t pay any more attention to them, carrying on with their chat about retro gaming. Vivian would probably have preferred to be part of that conversation; not that she didn’t know shit about movies and their actors, but more like aside from a few exceptions on which they got along swimmingly, she didn’t have much taste in common with Margaret. But she listened to her friend anyway as she kept going after a sip of sparkling water:

"How am I not supposed to be hot on the idea!? I’ll deadass find someone to bootleg me some footages!"

Vivian smiled out of politeness, not saying much, as always. Her mouth was full anyway.

"Oh, by the way!"

Margaret took another swip of her glass before putting it down on the table and leaning towards Vivian.

"Apparently, they’re going to burden us with a whole new bunch of hosts in two or three weeks," she said, with all the serious she could muster. "I heard that from Elsie. Narrative must be trying to compensate for something, if you know what I mean…"

Vivian knew very well.

"We barely have time to light a fag between two sessions already and they plan to add another hundred on our backs!?"

She snorted disdainfully.

"Don’t know what they’re spicing their coffee with but it isn’t doing them any good."

"No shit," admitted Vivian, a bit testy at the idea. "Unless they also plan to hire? Did Lowe say anything about it?"

Margaret shrugged.

"No idea, I haven’t talked to him in a while."

She patted her blazer pockets then sighed softly; Vivian understood her attitude as relief, and a craving, even a need to light a cigarette.

"You should ask," Margaret pointed out with a smile a tad clenched in the orbicularis muscles. "You like him, right?"

Vivian approved; she admired his thoroughness, his love for details… A lot could be learned while working under his care and Vivian found him both spirited and friendly.

Margaret didn’t quite share the feeling, however; in her own words, he was giving her the heebie-jeebies.

"Anyway, I’m off," Margaret stated with an even greater impatience in her voice. "I gotta light one before the crazy afternoon waiting for me!"

She gathered her cutlery on her tray, adding:

"Not giving up on the idea to come across Damon fucking Dyers, though! At least in video recs. Wish me luck!"

Vivian nodded and Margaret put her tray away on the sideboard before hurrying to the exit.

Her colleagues had changed topics next to her, and now they were talking about cars, motorcycles and mechanics. As she didn’t know much about that topic, not as much as in computers, she listened only a little without taking part.

Then, Vivian finished wolfing down her potato salad and her glass of water; she would soon return to her shift and examine a series of hosts, the characteristics of which she overviewed on her tablet from her timetable’s folders. It was simply routine checks, and Vivian liked that kind of sessions; it was like meeting with a friend, just to catch up with them.

But for now, she would take a few minutes to get some air and natural light on top of the hub before diving back into the high tech depths of the Mesa.

At seven in the evening, closer to eight, Vivian was glad to be back to her on-site apartments. Once again, she had grabbed a snack at the restaurant but the room was much more crowded than it was at lunch and came close to a headache before reaching "home". She could have dined here, cooked something on her induction hob but she was so tired — or lazy — that, tonight again, she still choose to eat at the restaurant over having to do the dishes!

Now, she was getting out of the shower in her bathrobe and throw herself on her bed.

Living like this, it was like being a teenager all over again, back at her parents’, or at the dorm… but once she closed her apartment’s door, Vivian was totally free to do whatever she wanted. As long as it didn’t involve wrecking the place!

But now, even if she wanted to, Vivian wouldn’t have had the strength to break any chair, nor even to make a mess of the bed… About that, she was actually planning on laying there, and falling asleep in her bathrobe while watching a movie or reading any book she had available on her personal tablet. A tablet that was nothing close to the one she was using every day in the Behavior department labs, but a tablet anyway.

She swiped the covers without any real interest; in all honesty, she was feeling too tired to read. Even something she had already read. And she cringed a little when the minimalistic cover with her automatically signed name appeared.

Yeah, even too tired to read her own words!

Besides, it wasn’t great literature at all — a fanfiction. Two, to be precise. Both about the hosts and their narratives as she could have written about a movie, book, or video game’s characters.

Vivian grumbled, letting her tablet fall flat on her stomach, and she stared at the white ceiling before closing her eyes while nibbling her lips. She had written this almost six months after she started working here, taken over by all the motivation, excitement and creativity around her!

She refocused on herself since but, in the meantime, she wrote these. And even though Vivian considered herself to have a fertile imagination, she still commended herself about how better for everyone it was she hadn’t applied for a job in Narrative…

Rising her tablet up again and tapping on the lit screen, she entered the file and skimmed through it, trying to ignore the grammar mistakes she stopped committing since; and mistakes aside, her stories had nothing exceptional, totally influenced as they were by her mood and the not-so-new-but-still-trendy storyline — Escaton’s and his bandits, essentially…

Over a very short time, when Vivian was still more or less trying to fit into the life of the facility and social circles of her co-workers whose names had yet to be caught, she had heard so many comments, appreciations and reviews for this narrative that she looked into it first.

After all, the park afforded Lee Sizemore, renowned author who made a big name for himself with a "hot and grimy" historical saga, a few years back before running out of puff under his editor’s pressure. And a juicy offer by a video game studio to adapt it. 

She understood; everybody, whether staff or guests, was more or less hyped by the brute force brought by Hector Escaton — virile and dark male figure — to the relative tranquility of the park’s starting point.

And Vivian had been no exception.

If her first story was only about made-up characters to explore the pleasing and well rounded context of Sweetwater, her second, on the other hand, was more audacious, altering shamelessly the story from what its authors had surely intended; victorious over the town after killing the sheriff and all opposition, Escaton and his gang enjoyed their plunder at the Mariposa where Hector fell for one of the saloon girls.

That being said, Vivian remained very proper — maybe totally prudish — in these sort of narrative fantasies of hers; nothing turned freaky or utterly violent…

All she did was throwing a few sentences on her writing app for some evenings, when inspiration struck or simply because she urged herself to follow through with what she started. All on her personal tablet. She knew better than to write that on anything system-tethered. Imagining that a bored somebody could just hack into the system all the way up to her personal data… and end up on that giddy nonsense, made her wants to puke!

Not to mention that it might also be forbidden. Even though she never planned to, she knew she couldn’t share it with anyone, nor anywhere. Not as a park employee. If the guests were writing critiques and other reviews online about their stay, herself couldn’t talk about it from the inside. Confidentiality and shit…

Her texts would remain secret, and her silly fantasies with them. In any case, it wasn’t as if she intended to try anything for herself, and even less with Hector Escaton, all the more since he wasn’t even part of the batch her team had in charge. And also, rumor has it that fantasies aren’t always good when act upon!

With a lazy tap, Vivian quitted the reading app and dropped the tablet on her sheets before burying her face in her soft pillow. She let out a deep sigh in it, relaxed, and in fact, she fell asleep almost right away.

#ocs #oc:vivian #my writing #fic:improvisation only #westworld fanfic #full diagnostic series #westworld fic #westworld

[ragingyandereholic]

Could you do either the doll or pet prompt for Formaggio please? I love that stinky little cheese man

Me too! Stinky cheese man for the win! I'm gonna be using pet since I've already used doll, although I won't be opposed to doing that one for you if you want it later. :)

Pet - "You're such a good pet! Do you want a treat...~?"

(Warnings: General yandere scariness, Formaggio is a pervy dick, he keeps you in a fuckin bird cage lmao, at least there's pillows, Implied mindbreak, implied dubcon)

You had never thought at any point in your life that you would be laying on a bunch of shrunken pillows in a bird cage. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever anticipate that you would even be small enough to be put into a cage in the first place. That would be an insane notion, to think that you could- Yet here you were, laying on your stomach and irritably kicking at the bars as you waited.

You had been waiting here for hours for your captor to return. He was the one who shrunk you down and trapped you in this stupid cage in the first place, telling you that it was "to keep you from running off with anyone else" whatever that was supposed to mean.

As you kicked at the bars, you heard the familiar sounds of his footsteps nearing. Formaggio opened the door with a creak, and walked into the room.

You perked up at the sound, sitting up quickly and looking over at him from your spot in your "bedroom" as he put it.

"Baby, I'm home~" He called as he sat down on his bed, grinning down at your cage on his bedside table.

He unlocked the cage door, opening it up and reaching in. You scuttled back against the back wall of the cage like a scared animal, but that didn't help. He easily managed to grab you and pull you out of the cage, holding you in his palm like one might their pet hamster or mouse.

"Did you miss me? Cause I missed you soooooo much, babe…" He cooed as he leaned down, kissing you on the top of the head affectionately.

You nodded slowly and clung to his finger, rubbing your cheek against his fingertips, "I did...I was so lonely…" You murmured, knowing that if you flattered him enough, he would turn you back to your original height. 

He seemed to do that often. As long as you returned his affections and did whatever he said, he would let you out of your cage, but...if you showed your annoyance and discontent with being his little pet, he would keep you trapped in that cage and taunt you from the outside.

If you tried to fight back, it would be even worse though. He would punish you by keeping you in that cage and blatantly ignoring you, taking away all of your entertainment. It was hell to crave your captor's attention, but you couldn't help it. So you had adapted to your environment, being his pet just to keep your sanity intact.

"I'm sorry I can't be home sooner, baby girl. Work's a bitch," Formaggio sighed as he lovingly stroked your hair with his pointer finger, enjoying how you melted under his warm touch. "I gotta make that money though. How else am I gonna buy ya' a better cage?" He said and leaned down, kissing your head again.

You nodded despite your desire to beg him not to keep you in the cage anymore. You had to keep him happy or the consequences wouldn't be pleasant at all...

You held his finger close, closing your eyes and clinging as tight as possible...He was so comfy and warm...The pillows in the cage didn't have the same human warmth that his skin had.

"Aww...Someone's touch starved~" He crooned as he laid back, setting you on top of his chest, looking down at you with a slight smirk, "I told ya' you'd warm up to me! Such a needy, little thing you are~"

"Can we cuddle…?" You asked quietly, but really that was your attempt at requesting he turn you back without accidentally striking a nerve and making him more likely to put you back.

"Of course, gattina~ We can snuggle as long as ya' want~" He purred slightly as he pulled you closer, kissing you on the head again and resting you in the crook of his neck as he pulled up the blankets.

No dice it seemed. You sighed and quietly said again, "No...like...can we really cuddle? I want to...hold you…" You continued trying to persuade him to return you to your full height.

He paused and glanced down at you, beginning to frown a bit, "What's wrong with this? This is very comfy," He said testingly.

"But...I wanna hold you too…" You tried to come up with an excuse, "It's unfair for you not to get held too…"

"...Hmmm…" He hummed. Shit. He was on to you…

You nervously clung to him, hoping you could keep this act up without bursting into tears and making him mad. 

"I need more persuading…" Formaggio slowly began to smirk as he looked down at you. 

"H...How?" You stammered out as you sat up into a sitting position and looked up at him nervously…

"Tell me you love me," He demanded, staring down at you and waiting for your response..

You hesitantly nodded and choked out an, "I love you…" that felt sickening on your lips. You hated how natural it felt to say something like that to him of all people. Was this perhaps...Stockholm Syndrome setting in?

"Good girl...Who owns you?" He continued to ask as he sat up, placing you in his hand and pulling you to eye level with him.

With quivering lips, you hesitantly said, "Y...You do…" trying not to flinch as his green eyes bore into you intensely.

"Say my name. Now...I want to hear you say the name of your owner," He continued, still looking at you in the same invasive manner. He wasn't even grinning or smirking like he had been previously. He was completely serious.

"Formaggio…" You spoke quietly. This didn't impress him too much.

"Louder," He commanded, actually beginning to smirk now as he watched you squirm under his gaze.

"Fo...Formaggio…!" You nervously said louder, watching his smirk widen into a fully fledged grin.

"Good girl!" He said and leaned in, kissing your small face, "Now you'll get a treat for pleasing your master so well, gattina…~"

He sat you down and you began to grow larger again, back to your original height. You were happy for a moment before he grabbed your hands and shoved you down on the bed, pinning them to the sides of your head.

"Formaggio…?" You said nervously as he leaned down, "What are y-" you went to question but you were cut off as he slammed his lips down onto yours, kissing you vigorously.

He slowly began to grind his pelvis against yours, shivering in pleasure as you squirmed underneath him. He finally let go of your hands and slid his hands down, squeezing at your thighs.

You gasped in response and he took this opportunity to jam his tongue into your mouth, pinning you with his body weight alone.

He kissed you like that until you were both breathless and he had no choice but to lean up, a string of saliva connecting you still as you both panted.

A grin spread across Formaggio's lips at your stunned expression and red tinged face, "Are you ready for your reward, gattina~?"

You heard the sound of a zipper. 

"I know that I am…~"

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere jojo #yandere la squadra #yandere formaggio #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo imagines #jojo vento aureo #vento aureo #Formaggio #la sqaudra

[scurvgirl]

Summer Heat

Good gracious I actually wrote something and it’s um. Naughty. It’s PWP, y’all. Fluffy PWP. Because before there was heartache with Miriel and Solas, there was joy - beautiful, sexy joy. Rated E - Explicit

Please remember to reblog if you like! Help your creators out :)

~~

Summer had overtaken Skyhold with a heat wave and sun. For the many southerner occupants, the heat was unwelcome and odd with the mountain elevation, but for northerners like Miriel, Bull, and Dorian, the heat wave was welcome after a long and difficult winter. For the first time in months, Miriel shed her outer layers and walked around in her preferred traditional garments. Her arms were bare and her hair up, letting her dreadfully pale skin greedily soak up the sun while it could. Dorian had even emerged from his cozy book nook to enjoy the heat, or Bull deciding to run his northern accustomed Chargers through drills. 

Miriel could feel the flowers and trees bask in the glory of the light and heat, or at least she liked to think she could. She was not gifted with magic but she liked to imagine that the plant life was eating this up as much as she and the other northerners were. 

The southerners were even more disrobed than the northerners, fanning their faces and avoiding the sun. The troops Cullen was running were down to their breeches and boots. Metal weapons had been turned over in favor of wooden poles for training purposes. All of which Miriel found more than a little amusing - it wasn’t that hot. She had walked the plains in Antiva in the height of summer - she knew heat. But these southerners were accustomed to snow, sleet, and cold. 

Feeling delighted Miriel walked across the bridge from Cullen’s office to the rotunda. She meant to use it as a shortcut to Josie’s office to discuss an incoming noble from Orlais, but stopped short upon seeing Solas. He was up on the scaffold, painting in a new section of the panel depicting their victory at Adamant. Paint coated his hands and upper arms and his shirt was delightfully discarded to the couch below. Miriel grinned, happy to be waylaid by the sight of her lover’s form. 

Solas was a man who took notice of...everything, but he was often engrossed by his painting that the rest of the world fell away. When he read, he became similarly engrossed. She used his distraction to her benefit and stepped quietly to his chair, then took a seat to watch. 

Some did not understand her attraction to Solas. He was certainly older and was not built like a warrior, but an active scholar. He was bald, and barefaced too. She knew all these things, and it did not dampen her desire for him. If anything, she found his form delightful and deliciously proportionate - he was tall and lean and his legs were so well shaped. His intelligence and knowledge were exceptionally attractive to her, and she practically crooned at the way his voice sounded when he told her tales of his explorations of the fade. He was artistic, and quite frankly, hot as fuck. Her friends could not understand it all they wanted - he was what she wanted, and she had a wonderful penchant for getting what she wanted these days.

She leaned forward in her seat and removed her vest, leaving her just in a loose under shirt and tight breeches that highlighted her shapely legs. With the vest gone, her strong shoulders and arms were full on display, leaving no wonder to her prowess with a bow. He did so love her muscles. She only left the small wrist length leather glove on her left hand, not wishing to have the green light of the Anchor give her away just yet.

Watching Solas paint was always pleasant -  the classical style with which he worked was so interesting to watch take shape. She waited until he sat back on his heels to look at what he’d done in a way that signified he was done for the day. When he nodded silently to himself, she let out a low whistle. 

“I can’t tell which is prettier, the painting or the painter,” she said. Solas whipped around, his face turning bright red to match the paint on his hands. Still, he smiled deviously, pleased at the comment.

“I am glad my skills please the Inquisitor,” he said and she rolled her eyes.

“Do I look like the Inquisitor right now?” For emphasis, she reached up and undid her ponytail, letting her blonde hair fall to her shoulders. She fluffed it with deliberate slowness, knowing he loved her hair - loved to thread his fingers through it, loved to bury his face in it while they -

“No, you do not,” he said low, interrupting her trail of thought. He climbed down from the scaffolding and walked over to the water basin to wash. As he grabbed the washcloth, Miriel stood up and walked over to him. He began to run the cloth against his skin and she ran a finger lightly up his back.

He paused briefly before resuming his wash, “I gather you are in a certain way, vhenan.”

“Always so observant,” she murmured, then angled herself to lean up and steal a quick kiss. Well, it was supposed to be quick. Solas kissed her back, his tongue sliding across her lips. She sighed, leaned into him and deepened the kiss. 

Solas broke away and she leaned up quickly to kiss the tip of his nose. He smiled and pressed his forehead to hers.

“You are insistent today.”

“I’m not the one starting with tongue, vhenan,” she teased, still pressed up against him and even angling her head to brush her lips along his jaw. Early on she learned just how starved for affection he was, just how much his body craved touch. Since then, Miriel had touched him as much as she could without being overwhelming - a hand to his back when she approached, a kiss to his cheek to say hello or good night, holding his hand at the camp fire when in the field, anything to make him remember that he was here and so was she. She once asked him if he had no one to touch him and he had paused and then only said that the Fade was imperfect and it had been a long time since someone had touched him, or wanted to touch him, like she did. 

“I’ll just endeavor to touch you as much as I can, then. Have your Fade adventures, and when you wake up, I’ll be here,” she had told him. His eyes had squeezed shut and when he opened them, they were full of overwhelming emotion.

“Thank you, vhenan.” 

Now, he put his hands back in the water and she maneuvered herself out from under him. The sooner he finished, the sooner she could get him up to her quarters. 

He washed as quickly as he could, taking care to remove every fleck of paint and plaster from his fingers. She knew he moved quickly, but there were moments where it almost felt like the world slowed as she watched the slim length of his fingers be washed, saw them flex in the water. She met his eyes and a distinctive mirth entered his expression. Wonderful, filthy man. 

As soon as he was finished with the wash, she grabbed his hand and brought it to her lips, kissing his fingertips then his pulse. 

“Brazen indeed, vhenan,” he murmured before stepping forward to cup her face and kiss her once more. Heat bloomed between them, putting the heat wave to shame. She adored kissing him, and would happily do so for hours. Today, though, she was very much in a particular mood - a mood that desired Solas and herself naked and writhing with passion.

She broke the kiss, took his hand and began to lead the way to her quarters. It was still the middle of the day at Skyhold, and the rotunda was entirely too public for her. She liked her privacy, as did Solas. 

Of course, there was no doubt as to what was happening as they traipsed through the great hall to the door that led upstairs to her quarters. Without evening looking, she knew Varric was smirking and shaking his joy as if he didn’t take immense joy in seeing his friends happy. 

As soon as they were through the door, Solas shut it behind them and pressed Miriel up against a wall. His mouth was on hers, his hands mapping her body, relearning it. She gripped his shoulders, pressing herself into the heat of the kiss and to his body. Moments like these made the world fall away, made her forget all about her duties as Inquisitor, even about the Mark blazing in her hand. 

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders then jumped up to wrap her legs around his waist.

“Yes, vhenan,” he murmured against her lips. His hands were on her ass, holding her even as he felt her up. She smiled into the kiss, nearly laughing, forcing it to break. 

“Something funny?” He asked.

“You love my ass. I just...it’s funny!” 

His brow furrowed but he smiled, “Ah, well, it is a very nice one.” He gave her a firm squeeze, making her gasp. Before she could respond, he adjusted his grip and fadestepped all the way up the stairs. She held on for dear life until she was being thrown back, landing on the softness of her bed. 

Her heart raced, head swimming as she tried to orient herself. And there was Solas, already pulling his leggings over his shapely form. She bit her lip, her body’s interest blooming with renewed vigor. Miriel followed her lover’s example and removed her undershirt, then wiggled out of her breeches. She did away with her breast band and underwear, leaving her bare to his gaze. The single glove on her Marked hand remained. Solas’s gaze roamed over her body with obvious desire, so she arched her back and shifted backward.

“Solas,” she murmured and that was enough to have him crawling after her onto the bed. He was over in her a moment, slanting his mouth against hers once more. She felt her entire body sigh on a singular thought of yes as he pressed his body to hers. He had his Fade, but she was in the physical world and she could have him here, feel him groan with pleasure, feel his erection pressing against her hip. Her fingers dragged down his back and he shivered with pleasure. 

He slipped a hand between them, his fingers delving for her hot, wet sex. She moaned into his mouth as he began his ministrations, thumb rolling and fingers stroking. She spread her legs wider, but while she meant it as an invitation he stopped.

“Solas, please,” she panted against his mouth, but his mouth was already moving away...and down. “Oh good, nnnngh,” she groaned as his mouth replaced his hands. That wicked tongue of his stroked and delved and made her moan ceaselessly with pleasure. She gripped the bedspread instead of clawing at his bald head. That would be entirely too obvious. 

His tongue circled her clit with purpose and his fingers returned to slip inside of her. Her hips undulated against his touch and her moans spurred him onward as he brought her off, his fingers preparing her for his length. Her muscles tensed and he crooked those fingers inside of her as he increased the tempo of his tongue lashing.

“Fuuuh,” she moaned as her pleasure washed over her, her sheath spasming around his fingers. Even as her pleasure washed over her, she felt herself crave more. 

Solas moved up her body, licking his lips in clear appreciation. She glanced down to see his erection, flushed and hard. 

Miriel put her hands on Solas’s shoulders and in one motion, had him flipped onto his back with her straddling him. As she ran her hands down his body, he held her hips then squeezed her backside. 

“Watch me,” she instructed, reaching for his cock. She adjusted herself and then was sliding down his length, inch by inch.

“Miriel,” he groaned, eyes glued to the sight of her taking him into her. She grinned with victory. Miriel loved this. Loved seeing how mad she could drive him, loved riding him into oblivion. Once fully seated, she took a moment to simply enjoy the feeling of being filled. He had prepared her well and she felt only pleasure at the sensation of stretching. She flexed around him and his hips bucked in response. 

“Patience, sa’lath,” she teased. She leaned forward and pressed kisses to his neck before sucking a bruise right below his earlobe. He groaned, grip tightening on her backside. Taking mercy on him, she rolled her hips, moving herself up and down his length. 

She rose back up and rolled her hips again. And again. She moved on his cock, riding him at a quick pace that had him gasping and thrusting for more. They moved together, chasing their pleasures in sync. Her head fell back, falling into the sensations of heat and tension and the delicious slide of him in and out of her. 

His fingers on her clit shocked her and she mewled in surprised delight. Sparks of pleasure suffused her sex and love seemed to take a singular hold over her heart. 

“Vhenan, yes, yes,” she chanted, grinding on him. He returned thrusts in kind, keeping with her. Her Marked hand throbbed as she felt his magic permeate the air as it always did when he was close. She opened her eyes to watch his glorious face in the throes of passion. Creators, he was beautiful. Gorgeous tension in his face as he neared his end, his full lips and bright eyes, that nose…

“Ar lath ma,” Miriel panted. Solas’s lips parted and he groaned, hips snapping upward and his magic surging as he reached completion. She felt him pulse inside of her, and with a quick motion of his fingers, her world bloomed with sensation and she came with a high pitched cry. 

Her body trembled with aftershocks, and he was still inside of her, softening. Part of her loathed to part, but she knew better. Carefully, she moved off of his cock, but she remained on top of him. Unable to resist the pull of his lips, she kissed him gently. 

Solas sighed and cupped her face. The kiss was languid and sweet, communicating without words what they felt for each other. The closeness they felt with each other, separate from the rest of the world that was a mess and so demanding of her and by extension him. Here, in bed, it was just them, enjoying themselves. 

Miriel let herself enjoy the moment then pulled away with a smile. “Be right back,” she said, giving him a quick peck to the cheek. She dashed over to the washroom and took care of herself. When she exited the washroom, Solas was laying in beautiful naked repose in her bed.

“The windows were open,” he said, nodding to the open balcony to the garden below. 

“Well, it’s not like anyone doesn’t know. Besides, it’s good for the Chantry sister and mothers to be scandalized every now and then.” She left the windows open, with the tower up so high there was a nice cross breeze to counteract the heat anyways.

She looked back over at him and his lovely body, “You’re beautiful.”

He blinked in surprise and a blush spread across his cheeks, “You flatter me, vhenan.”

“I tell the truth! You’re beautiful and sexy, especially after I had my way with you,” she couldn’t help it, she laughed a little. Not at him and not because it was a joke but because she was happy. 

Solas chuckled, “You are beautiful and sexy as well, particularly after you have had your way with me, as you so aptly put it.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed, stalking forward. “I wonder if we’ll be as beautiful if you have your way with me.”

“An excellent wondering, we should investigate.” He leaned forward on the bed just as she reached it, their lips coming together in a heated kiss. And Miriel did so love the heat.

#solavellan #solas #lavellan #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dai #fanfic #citrus #miriel lavellan #miriel #my writing #it's been 80 years since I wrote solavellan #always come back to it