#he WILL happily have sex but ONLY if it will be emotionally healing for the other party

[nevertheless-moving]

I'm not quite there yet but I KNOW that after wind and truth featuring Szeth and Kaladin's Unwell Adventure, I WILL be adding Kalaszeth to my all encompassing mental cabinet of beloved possible Kaladin ships.

---

Which introduces a new funniest time travel companion for a new funniest post book 5 time travel scenario.

Stormlight au 31:

Szeth, having jump scared the bridge crew by appearing lightly glowing in the dark while they were having stew, been hastily ushered by the captain into the bridge four barrack, only to sit on the floor and stare dead eyed at nothing: Kaladin, standing between the crew and the man on the floor:

---

Lopen looked around. As usual, he could tell that the men were silently crying out for him, the Lopen, to take charge and speak.

"So!" he said cheerfully. "Gotta say gancho, very excited to meet an old friend of yours! Nice to take some mystery out of that mysterious past of yours, eh?"

Kaladin shifted from foot to foot, face twisting a bit. He had been acting strange since that terrifying glowy high storm vision of his a few days back. Even more broody than usual, which was storming saying something.

"It must be difficult," Rock said slowly. "Being Shin man with great powers and shardblade."

A shardblade which he had summoned unceremoniously, causing all of bridge four to scramble for weapons, only for the crazy man to hand it to Kaladin with a mumble, then sit on the floor.

Kaladin had sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, before placing it, very, very carefully, under his bed.

A storming shardblade. Under the Captain's bed.

"A Shin with a shardblade who wears white," Moash added sarcastically, eyes flickering to the Captain's bed even more than usual.

(White may have been a stretch, what with all the mud and possibly dried blood. Still. Lopen could perhaps see Moash's point.)

"Yes," Rock said. "Why, were I more suspicious man, I would say Captain, this man on the floor, he can not be Assassin in White? Surely most wanted, most dangerous man in all Roshar is not here, in the place we sleep, asking for aid. Surely it would have been mentioned if this man who caused the war we even now are a part of, was old friend of yours?"

"I..." Kaladin trailed off. "I promised to try and protect..."

The whole bridge crew groaned, Skar even throwing his spear at the ground. Bad form, that.

"Storm's sake lad!" Teft growled, arms in the air. "You can't befriend and save every wanted criminal you meet!"

"If it is of help -"

The men started at the unnerving dead voice coming from the so far quiet assassin.

"We are not truly friends. Merely -"

He said a word, presumably in his language, then frowned, the first recognizably human emotion that had crossed his face.

"I do not know this word in Alethi. In Azish it is I think -"

He said something that made Sigzil choke on air, jaw dropping. "Uh," the Worldsinger stammered out. "I. Ah. I think. That might be the wrong term."

The Captain seemed to pale slightly. "Szeth, we can talk about that later," he said quickly. "We should probably figure out a plan for you to surrender to Dalinar - or Elokhar - without you getting immediately executed - Yes, Dalinar is probably-"

"Perhaps," Sigzil interrupted, voice higher than usual. "You could define the meaning of the word you used before."

"Sigzil!" The captain hissed.

"Captain?" Sigzil challenged, voice still slightly too high.

"I was emotionally and mentally unwell," the assassin in white said in his monotone. He paused. "Even more so than currently."

A few of the men took a step back.

"Stormblessed..." he looked up at Kaladin, and his voice seemed to soften, just the slightest bit. "He felt pity for me. Then he helped me feel. Helped me think that perhaps, someday I would feel the desire for life. He did this despite no great love for my being."

Many of the men nodded at that. Sigzil's shoulders slumped in relief.

"He accomplished this primarily by fucking me in a cave."

The nods froze. Sigzil closed his eyes.

The Captain slapped a hand to his face.

"The translation for this from my language would be 'pity fuck', but there is more cultural nuance..." The Assassin shrugged. "In any case it is not a bond such as that of friendship. My soul is still far too damaged for that."

"Szeth..." The Captain said, looking down at him with obvious concern. He glanced at the room, blanched at the men's expressions, then slowly pressed his head back into his hand.

Moash made an indecipherable noise and stomped towards the door, before making another noise and stomping back.

The Captain kept his palm pressed to his face.

A sudden wave of epiphany hit Lopen. "Hold on. Now hold on just a storming minute!"

The room turned slowly from staring at their Stormblessed leader to staring at Lopen.

He pointed accusingly at the Captain. When the man failed to pull his massive hand from his beautiful face, Lopen faced the others, glaring.

"I know that I joined bridge four late! But are you telling me that before I got here, the whole famous 'pulling everyone out of bridge crew misery' was actually the captain...I mean did storming all of you..."

He made a deliberate gesture, pointer finger moving extra emphatically to make up for the missing hand with which to form a hole, meeting each man's eyes with a challenge.

Drehy let out a wheeze. He and Skar looked at each other before dissolving into quiet, helpless laughter. Drehy sank to his hands and knees, wheezing more, and Skar bent over, tears streaming down his face as he gasped around his laughing.

"That ain't an answer!" he said indignantly.

He looked at Teft, but the older man had put both hands over his face. His shoulders seem to shake occasionally. Lopen's eyes narrowed as he turned to Rock.

The horneater had a hand over his mouth, but he brought it down, coughing once as he stroked his beard.

"What," Rock said mildly. "You thought it my stew that bring back men's will to live? You honor me, the Lopen."

Lopen gaped at that, and he wasn't the only one. The handful of other 'late' additions, men who had been rescued on the field from other crews, started in shock.

The rest of the crew completely lost it at that point.

Skar and Drehy collapsed further, banging their fists on the floor. Bissig started laughing as well, falling onto Natam, who had made a strange grunting whine at Lopen's question, a whine which grew louder at Rock's reply.

Moash's lips turned up reluctantly before a snort escaped against his will. He fell back against a wall, knees seeming to grow weak. Another snort. "Imagine!" he gasped out. "If he just started punching people in the stomach, ran around like a madman, and expected people to follow him!"

Leyten went from chuckling to a booming laugh at that, clutching at Pete and Yake to stay upright. He looked at Lopen, who made another questioning gesture. That was enough to send all three toppling over, Leyten loud enough to be heard the next barrack over.

Renarin squeaked from the corner as Natam hit the wall beside him in mirth, howling. Talek's breath, he had forgotten the lad was there, light eyes wide in shock.

Shen was next to him. Was it Lopen's imagination, or did even his eyes seemed to be sparkling with mirth? No storming way...not the parshman...the Captain wouldn't...

"Crazy!" Torfin agreed, cackling. "What kind of idiots would start pooling all their pay to buy storming bandages for doomed men, start laughing during chasm duty, swear to stand by their storming bridge, if they didn't have at least one, um - uh -"

"Stormblessing!" Leyten offered with a gasp from the ground.

Torfin pointed at him, "Stormblessing!" he repeated with a yell. "To remind them that life was worth living!"

Lopen narrowed his eyes, finally coming to a conclusion. "You fellows are taking the piss out on me," he accused.

"You know Captain," Drehy said, whole body heaving, tears still streaming down his face as he lay helplessly on the floor. "I still get nightmares."

This inspired a new wave of laughter mixed with jeers about their own issues, and suggestions for how the captain could help. Lopen shook his head, grinning widely at the room full of uproarious men. Some of his best work. And mostly achieved on accident, which was the best kind of accomplishment!

The Captain finally pulled his hand from his face. There was color high in his cheeks, and he was frowning, but the corners of his eyes were creased with suppressed laughter.

"Sorry Drehy, one time offer," he said dryly, to hoots.

And Lopen," he said, faux apologetic. "I am sorry for the oversight. I... didn't realize you were interested."

The crew edged well into hysteria, most men only able to breathe in strangled gasps and wheeze out an occasional ''Stormblessing!'

Bridge four's captain was good at playing straight man, when the mood struck him.

The Lopen huffed, but decided magnanimously to move past the slight to his honor. Even if it turned out they weren't joking.

"It's still nice to be included," he sniffed. "Ain't that right, Renarin."

The Brightlord seemed to shrink as attention was drawn towards him, face a brilliant red as he pressed into the corner. Some of the laughter trailed off as the crew remembered he was there. More of it got louder, even less uncontrolled.

The Captain's eyes widened and the flush on his cheeks spread to his ears.

"Renarin! Oh - Jezrianssake, the men are full of chullshit, alright? I didn't - that wasn't -"

The Captain gestured helplessly. "The thing with Szeth was - we were - the world was going to -"

He threw up his arms as Renarin's eyes just got wider.

"It was the stew!" He said desperately, turning to look at Eth, who looked bemused back at him. "It really was the stew!" He pleaded.

"I know Captain," Eth said soothingly. "I know I came in a bit later, but I know. That's not exactly something these idiots would be able to keep secret."

"Things might have gone faster, though..." Skar said leadingly, which set off another round of helpless groans and gasps for air.

The Captain rolled his eyes, scoffing, still the perfect comedic straight man.

...He did get the whole joke though, right? The bit of truth in the jeers? The Lopen was not generally interested in the more manly sex but Storms. It was sometimes hard to tell if the Captain realized just how pretty he was, just how much people reacted to his general...Stormblessedness. Not to mention the glowing! Everyone loves a man who can glow and run up walls.

Hm. Maybe that helped explain the Captain and the Assassin.

Moash stumbled, still snorting, over to the Man in White - to Szeth - looking down at him, appraising.

Kaladin grew tense.

Gancho had been especially strange around Moash for the last few days.

"Assassin," he said thoughtfully. "Are you sure it was just pity?"

The wide eyed man, who had remained utterly impassive as the room fell apart around him, cocked his head as Moash leaned down.

"There's a certain kind of person who finds killing light eyes, especially powerful lighteyes, a rather..."

Kaladin cleared his throat, interrupting. "We're not killing the king."

Moash turned sharply, glaring at Kaladin.

"I do not wish to kill anymore," Szeth whispered. He paused, then spoke again.

"I will kill if the Blackthorn orders, or if you ask, Kaladin Stormblessed, son son Tanavast."

Kaladin winced. "Maybe let's not mention...that whole last part when we go to the King. We...we should definitely practice exactly how we're going to explain all this."

He starting towing the still blank faced - no there was a bit of confusion there, if you were looking - infamous Assassin to his office, the men letting out the best jeers they could (considering their incoherent state) as they went.

"You should for sure mention the 'pity fuck' thing though," Lopen called helpfully. "The King will definitely be interested in that."

#Stormlight archive #kaladin stormblessed #My au #stormlight fanfic #Stormlight au no 31 #Szeth/Kaladin #Words of Radiance au #lopen and szeth: untapped comedy tagteam?? #lopen szeth and kaladin: three people who will just fucking say things??? #i made myself laugh and as always that's whats important #New most entertaining kaladin sexuality: sex positive ace whose thing specifically is #he WILL happily have sex but ONLY if it will be emotionally healing for the other party #bridge four: that's just pity fu- #kaladin: IT'S PART OF A JOURNEY TOWARDS MENTAL RECOVERY I DON'T KNOW OKAY I'M STILL INVENTING THERAPY #wind and truth speculation #rhythm of war spoilers #crack #you know those two glowing men are going to have some feelings at the very least while adjacent to each other. #overnight in a cave is optional i can supply that myself if need be #cosmere #nevertheless cosmere

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

A Man's Worth

Tup x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1: Death in the Shadows

gif by @kamino-coruscant

Summary: Your date-night with Tup is interrupted when your stalker finds you and won’t leave without you. Tup heroically comes to your defense, but is overpowered by the assailant and you are taken away. After your rescue, Tup struggles with his insecurities and self-worth as he tries to heal physically, mentally, and emotionally.

Pairing: Tup x Fem!Reader

Characters: Tup, Echo, Fives, Fox, Rex, Kix, Jesse, Dogma, Hardcase

Tags & Warnings: 18+, established relationship, domestic fluff, minor suggestive themes, stalking, kidnapping, violence, blood, major injuries, whump, trauma, angst, hurt/comfort, self-worth, masculinity, depression, PTSD

Word Count: 6.7k

Author's Note: This was supposed to be a one-shot, but it decided it wanted to be more. Don’t ask me where the idea came from. It was the first thing that popped into my head when I read the bingo square. Writing this was painful, but chapters two and three are worse, so... As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta Read: By the lovely @commander-sunshine because sometimes I think my work is trash.

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Obsession

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

“I am so full,” you groan while exiting the restaurant. The fresh evening air hits your face and you take a deep breath to refresh yourself.

“Me too,” Tup agrees as he rubs his stomach. “I’m kind of glad the other place messed up our reservations, because this place was amazing.”

“Right?” you pop a mint into your mouth and offer one to Tup. “This is definitely going on the list of favorites.”

“Absolutely,” Tup agrees while taking the mint. He clasps his hand in yours and you stroll leisurely down the sidewalk together.

Date nights are your favorite nights. You and Tup always make it a point to set aside one night, while he’s on leave, dedicated solely to each other. It’s a time of bonding and learning about each other. Even though you’ve been together for two years now, you don’t want to get complacent and lose the spark that you had in the beginning. In order for the night to be considered a true date night, it must consist of three things: food, fun, and intimacy.

The food portion of the night has happily concluded at the new restaurant you just left. After your original reservation was mysteriously lost, you wandered down the streets looking for somewhere else to have dinner and this little hole in the wall with a crooked neon sign piqued both your interests. The inside had a lively atmosphere and good music. And although the menu was limited, the portions were huge and you barely finished your shared dessert.

The fun portion was completed before the food. You found out the hard way that food before fun only ended up making you both sick, so you switched them around. Tonight you swept the floor with Tup at mini-golf. He talked a good game, but his mini-swing lacked any sort of form. His golf balls landed in the water, in the dirt, over the fence, and in someone's drink cup. You really didn’t think someone could be that bad at mini-golf, but Tup is always surprising you.

Now, all that’s left is the intimacy portion. Intimacy can be anything as long as you do it together and are completely alone. Some nights you will bake cupcakes and make a mess with the frosting, or take a hot shower and wash each other’s hair, or cuddle up with a good holo-film and eat copious amounts of junk food, or just have sex. The day usually ends in sex, but it isn’t the point, or the main focus of date night, so it always falls to the bottom of the list of priorities.

The sun is setting beyond the horizon as you make your way home and you sigh in contentment as you lean your head against Tup’s shoulder. He glances down at you, smiles, raises your clasped hand to his lips, and kisses your knuckles. You smile warmly in return for his affection. Today’s date night is perfect and the weather could not be better. It’s not too hot, which is always a concern in the summer, with a light breeze that brushes gently by your exposed skin. 

You continue walking down the street, clasped hands blithefully swaying in the air like a young couple in love, relishing in each other’s presence. You see a bench coming up in your path and instead of letting go of Tup’s hand and going around it, you climb up it to walk across. Tup doesn’t miss a beat and continues holding your hand from the ground while you stretch out your other arm to balance. Once across, you gracefully hop off the end and continue your journey.

“You’re adorable, you know that?” Tup praises as he leans over and plants a kiss on your temple. 

“Stop it,” you laugh and tap his arm in jest.

Tup flexes his bicep and twirls you around to rest against his chest. He crosses his arms over your stomach to trap you and you giggle. He leans his chin atop your shoulder and whispers in your ear. “Never.”

You close your eyes and place your hands on his forearms as he sways back and forth, slowly dancing on the sidewalk to non existent music. You let yourself melt into his body’s warmth, feeling his firm chest against your back and his strong arms holding you, securing you in a gentle embrace. You don’t care who’s watching and you don’t care what they think. When you're with Tup your inhibitions and insecurities dissipate like clouds on a sunny day.  

You open your eyes and continue to sway when you catch a glimpse of a figure out of the corner of your eye. Your body stiffens and a shiver runs up your spine. You study the figure and your stomach drops as your heart rate increases. It’s him. You can’t believe it. You don’t want to believe it. How did he find you? You try to look away from his menacing presence as he observes you from the shadows, but you can’t. Your blood runs cold as fear washes over you.

Tup feels your muscles tense against his own as you stop swaying with him. The sudden change in your demeanor demands his attention. He notices goosebumps forming on your arms and wonders if you’re getting cold. He mentally kicks himself for not bringing a sweatshirt with him in case you needed it, however, something about your shivering feels off. The evening air is warm, not cool, as demonstrated by the sweat forming on the back of his neck.

“Cyare?” Tup asks in concern while cocking his head to the side.

You don’t answer, too afraid to form coherent words. It’s as if someone glued your mouth shut.

“Cyare?” Tup asks again, this time gently turning you around to face him. The look in your eyes tugs at his heartstrings. He can finally see what he was feeling emanating from your body, pure fear. 

You startle at the movement and look into Tup’s deep amber eyes, searching desperately for safety and comfort. Tup stares back, silently asking what you need from him, waiting for you to speak. You finally mutter the words. “I want to go home.” The syllables are soft spoken, almost broken, as if one more utterance would break an invisible dam, releasing a cascade of emotions. 

Tup doesn’t understand what is happening, but he does understand you, and if you say it’s time to go home, then it’s time to go home. For him, no more words need to be spoken. Whether you want to talk about it when you get home or not is up to you, but that’s not his main concern at the moment. His only concern is your safety and your wellbeing. He nods at your request, giving you assurance, clasps your hand in his, and begins walking towards home.

Tup takes ten steps and you abruptly stop. He doesn’t notice at first and continues walking, but stops when he feels the resistance as your hand strays from his. He turns on his heels and furrows his brow with concern. He doesn’t understand what is causing this sudden trepidation, but he’s growing worried. Is it him? Did he do something to cause this? The thoughts nag at the back of his mind, but he shoves them away in search of something more definite from you.

“Can we take the long way home?” you ask nervously, your gaze fixated on the shadowy figure Tup was inadvertently walking towards.

Tup’s confusion continues. The long way is ten blocks from your position. The short way is only two blocks. Tup scratches his head and searches your features. He watches you pick at your fingers, biting your lip, your legs trembling, and the way your chest heaves as if you’re being deprived of oxygen. He scans past you, desperately wondering what or who is scaring you so fiercely that you want to walk an extra eight blocks home, but nothing catches his eye.

Tup is snapped out of his focused gaze by you tugging on the sleeve of his t-shirt. “Please?” you plead with shaky breath, tears threatening to escape your eyes.

Tup’s heart shatters. He’s never seen you like this before. “Yes, of course,” Tup rushes to say when he realizes he’s taking too long to respond to your original question. “We can stop by that ice cream stand in the park on the way. Sounds good?” 

He gives you a small smile, hoping for your bright and cheery disposition to return at the prospect of your favorite summer treat, ice cream, but you don’t smile back and answer only with a slight nod. Tup frowns, his efforts to lighten the mood fail, but he takes your hand in his and grips it tightly to reassure you of his presence. If anything, he wants you to know he’s there for you, even if you never tell him what’s wrong, he’ll always be there.

You both walk in silence as you wind the long way around to your apartment. Tup continues to scan the surroundings, still searching for the source of your sudden fear, but he can’t locate it. The thought of him being oblivious to such an enormous fear of yours makes him feel insecure about how attentive he is. Maybe he missed it in a conversation or maybe you said it in passing and he forgot. He racks his brain trying to figure it out, but the dots won’t connect.

A cold shiver runs up Tup’s spine and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, stopping him dead in his tracks. This feeling. He knows this feeling, intimately. He first felt it on Umbara as a shiny and he never forgot it. The feeling of cold eyes watching him from the shadows, waiting to strike him down. Is this what you saw? Is the source of these threatening eyes what is terrorizing his love? His breath quickens and he turns around, putting himself between you and the menacing gaze.

Tup steels himself, his eyes scanning for the source. He knows it’s out there, waiting, coiled, and ready to strike at him with venomous fangs. Then he sees it, the figure in the shadows that’s been watching and following. How long it’s been following you both, he’s not sure, but he’s going to end it here and now. He lets his training kick in and prepares himself physically and mentally. He’s faced many enemies and he’s not going to back down from whatever this one is.

The figure, realizing it’s been noticed, steps out of the shadows. Tup’s eyes grow wide as he looks at the towering figure and he takes a cautionary step back. The man is massive, at least three times his size and built like a gunship. Tup’s heart rate increases as he feels naked and exposed without his armor and his blaster. He understands now, your fear, because that same fear is biting at the back of his spine, threatening to alter his fight response into a flight response.

The large man takes a step forward, and Tup takes two steps back, pushing you back along with him. This isn’t good. Tup scans his surroundings quickly but there’s nothing he can use as a makeshift weapon. If this encounter turns violent, it’s going to be a fist fight and it won’t be pretty. The man steps forward again, chuckling darkly as Tup takes another few steps back. Tup glances over his shoulder and grimaces as he notices you’re both being backed into an alley.

“You thought you could run away from me again, did ya?” the man sneers.

Tup is baffled by his words, but he feels you bury your face into his back and a few pieces begin to click in his mind. “Do you know this guy?” Tup throws over his shoulder as he continues to back you both into the alley.

Your legs tremble as you try to move in step with Tup. “He’s…” you attempt to force the words out. “He’s my stalker.”

Tup curses under his breath as he mentally calculates the different outcomes, none of them ending well. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Tup asks, trying to swing his voice to sound more inquisitive than condemning.

“I thought he couldn’t find me here,” you answer through a shaky voice. “He’s been obsessed with me for years. I have eight restraining orders on eight different planets.”

Tup curses under his breath again. “Do you have a restraining order for him on Coruscant?” Tup continues his inquiry, well aware that it’s a dumb question. 

You nod your head and ball his t-shirt tightly in your fists. This is your worst nightmare. You’ve been moving from planet to planet for years attempting to shake him, but he always ends up finding you. There’s not a police force in the galaxy that has been able to catch him. He’s elusive and cunning, a stark contrast to his brutish appearance, and he’ll do anything to make you his. The sheer terror you feel in this moment is overwhelming and you want to vomit.

“What’s the matter baby?” the man asks. “Why aren’t you happy to see me?”

You flinch at the words. A muscle in Tup’s jaw tics as anger brims under the surface from your terrified reaction. He gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. 

“She’s not your baby,” Tup scoffs at the man’s false insinuation. 

“Oh?” the man raises an eyebrow. “And what are you supposed to be?”

“I’m her boyfriend,” Tup states confidently while using every bit of conviction he has. 

The man laughs loudly and points at Tup. “Him? You chose a clone over me? This subhuman blaster fodder is your boyfriend? Don’t make me laugh baby.”

Tup narrows his eyes as ire burns in his gut. The insults about his existence don’t bother him anymore. Not everyone has the same view about clones, but he’s still flesh and blood, like any other lifeform, and it doesn’t make him any less human if he shares the same DNA with a million other men. He has feelings, a personality, likes and dislikes, just like everyone else. No. What’s really bothering him is your tears soaking through the back of his shirt and it fuels his anger.

The man walks forward. “Come on baby, I’m taking you back home.”

“Over my dead body,” Tup snarls as he steps forward to meet the man’s movement. It no longer matters that he doesn’t have his armor or his blaster. This is carnal. This is something ingrained in him that just feels right. An overwhelming instinct to protect what’s his. No one is taking you away from him, not while he’s still alive and breathing.

The man straightens up to his full height, flexes his muscles, and cracks his neck. “I was hoping you would say that.”

His intimidation tactic is working as Tup feels an incredible wave of dread wash over him. He discreetly slips his hand in his pants pocket and activates the distress beacon on his comm link. Whether anyone will actually see it and come to his aid he doesn’t know, but it’s better than nothing. Tup takes a deep breath, gently pushes you aside, and stands his ground. He’s a clone trooper after all and he was bred to fight. This is what he’s good at, and he’s going to do it.

“Come on, clone,” the man taunts with a wave of his hand. “Show me what those little arms can do.”

“Sooran ni’jagyc,” Tup shoots back as a challenge.

Your jaw drops in shock. You’ve never heard something so vulgar come from Tup’s mouth, at least not when he’s with you. You imagine his vocabulary must be pretty colorful as a soldier, so it’s not surprising, but it sounds weird coming from his lips. You watch nervously as the two men square each other up, like predator and prey. You slink back to a reasonably safe distance into the alley to give Tup the room to maneuver without you getting in his way. The tension in the air thickens. 

The man lunges forward and Tup quickly evades his first strike. The attacker is large and his movements are sluggish and unrefined, whereas Tup is smaller, quicker, and more precise with his movements. Tup remains weary, even with his slight advantage from years of training. They play a game of hit and miss for several minutes and you fidget with your fingers and tap your foot as you watch. Your stomach lurches at the brutal swings as you wait for one to find its mark.

Sweat begins to form on Tup’s brow as he dodges another swing. His stamina is still good and if he can keep outmaneuvering his opponent, he just might tire him out. The man is getting frustrated that he can’t land any hits and his movements become more erratic and desperate. Tup takes the opportunity to look for an opening, anywhere he can land a hit. He finally sees one and goes for it, but Tup’s fist is caught mid-flight, the man’s hand encapsulating his entirely. 

“Gotcha,” the man says as he peers down at Tup with a devilish smirk.

Dread washes over Tup’s face at the realization that he’s been caught. He knows it’s over. He knows he can’t break free, not from the iron grip surrounding his hand. He once again feels small, naked, and afraid for not only his life, but also yours. A part of him recognizes he may not survive what comes next and he glances back over his shoulder to give you the best smile he can, knowing it may be the last one he gives you. 

“Look away, mesh’la,” Tup orders as calmly as he can. He doesn’t want you to see what’s going to happen next.

You nod, but you don’t intend to look away. At your confirmation, Tup’s gaze snaps back to the man towering over him. He tries to yank his fist out of the man’s grasp, but it won’t budge. The man watches Tup’s feeble attempts at breaking free and laughs. He rotates his fist outward, slowly bending Tup’s arm, forcing the clone to his knees as he winces from the twisting force. Tup grabs the man’s arm with his free one to try and stop his movement, but it’s not enough.

Crack

You gasp at the sound of breaking bone and the agonizing scream that follows. You put your hand over your mouth as your stomach churns. You’ve never heard Tup make a sound like that. It’s an unnerving and frightening sound that reverberates in your mind and echoes through your eardrums as it bounces off the walls of the alley. You should have listened and looked away. The sight of his arm twisted and mangled into a position inhumanly possible is not one that will soon leave your mind.

“Tup!” you yell as tears roll down your face.

“I said, look away!” Tup cries through labored breath, pain radiating through his broken voice.

This time you listen, clamping your hands over your ears and squeezing your eyes shut. You slide down the alley wall, slumping to the ground, and place your head against your knees. You don’t want to see it and you don’t want to hear it. You don’t want to witness this horrific display. It’s unfair that Tup has to suffer because of you. He didn’t do anything wrong and you wonder what you could have done differently to prevent this from happening, but nothing comes to mind.

Crack

You flinch at the fracturing of more bone and the excruciating shriek that follows. You press your hands firmly over your ears, but no matter how hard you try, you can’t drown out Tup’s tortured voice as he groans in pain. You want it to stop, all of it. You want him to stop. You want him to leave Tup alone and both of you go back to the way your night was before your stalker arrived. You flip through images of Tup in your mind and try to focus on his soothing voice and warm smile.

Crack

Your happy memories are shattered like Tup’s body while his anguished cries float across the air and find their way between your fingers and into your ears. You let out a frightened whimper at the noise, even though the sound of his suffering is your morbid reminder that he’s still alive. You want to open your eyes, but you're afraid. Then you hear a different sound, a gasping of breath. No. He’s going to kill him. You finally brave a peek at the scene and you gasp in horror at the sight. 

Your stalker has his hand wrapped around Tup’s throat, holding him several feet off the ground as blood drips from his pant legs and puddles on the ground beneath him. Tup’s limbs are twisted in a way they shouldn’t, with pieces of bone sticking out through bloody skin and ripped clothing. The pain he must be feeling is indescribable. You watch helplessly as Tup wriggles his mangled body gasping for whatever breath he can while using his only good hand to pull at the hand choking him. 

You slam your fist on the ground and sob. You’re desperate for someone to save him, anyone, but there’s no one. It’s just the three of you. The only person who can save Tup is you and you’re not even sure if you can. You think about how Tup selflessly threw himself at his adversary to protect you and you want to do the same. You want to protect him, save him, because it’s better for Tup to be alive without you, than to live knowing his death was your fault. 

You pick yourself up off the ground and stand on shaky legs like a newborn bantha. With one step at a time, you approach the man holding your mutilated boyfriend, stopping as you reach his side. You look up at Tup, his face is almost unrecognizable and his hair has left the confines of its tie with locks of curls pasted to his face with blood. Your heart breaks. “Please,” you beg with a shaky breath. “Please, let him go.”

The man moves his gaze from the bloody toy in his grasp and peers down at you. “Why should I?” he asks with a huff.

You take a sharp inhale and steel yourself. “If you let him go, I’ll go home with you,” you breathe out, completely surprising yourself with your resolve.

The man raises a curious eyebrow at your proposition.

“N… o…” Tup croaks out from beneath the man's chokehold, his eyes trying to meet yours, but all he sees is a film of red.

Annoyed by the talking piece of meat in his grip, the man takes his other hand and slams it against Tup’s jaw, knocking it out of place with a single deft movement. Blood flings from Tup’s face and splatters across yours as he lets out a stifled groan. His head rolls back as he fades in and out of consciousness. You gasp in horror at the violent act and you raise a trembling hand to your face to wipe Tup's blood off, taking a moment to stare at the crimson stain on your fingers. 

“There,” the man smiles satisfactorily. “Now we won’t be interrupted.”

New waves of terror wash over you as shock threatens to take over your system, but you continue to stand your ground, determined to save Tup. “Please,” you ask again with as much sincerity as you can muster. “Please let him go and I’ll go home with you.”

The man contemplates your offer and finally drops his toy. Tup gasps, with what little ability he has left, as he hits the ground hard. You sigh in relief, but it quickly turns to more horror as you watch the man kick Tup in the stomach and hurl him against the wall of the alley. At this point, Tup can’t make any more noises. He just lies against the wall, limp, bleeding, and broken. You look up at the man and beg him to leave Tup alone. You beg and beg and beg, crying for him to stop.

The man walks over to Tup’s mutilated, bloody body and picks him up by the neck again, his twisted arms and legs dangling lifelessly. The man looks at you and smirks. “Do you know where clones belong?” 

You whimper, stifling back a sob, and shake your head. 

“In the trash,” the man laughs as he tosses Tup’s body in the closest dumpster.

You tremble at the echoing thud Tup’s body makes when it lands in the dumpster. You wonder if he’s dead. He must be dead. No one can survive that level of physical abuse. You fall to your knees and sob. You sob for your lost love and you sob because it’s all your fault. You brought your past into Tup’s present and now he’s paid for it with his life. This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t the life you wanted and now you’re mourning the life you had. The life you loved.

The man grabs your arm and yanks you up from the ground. There’s nothing more you can do now. You don’t have a choice. All hope has been lost. You have found yourself at the end of a very terrifying road with no one to protect you and no one to save you. You swallow hard and accept your fate, a fate that Tup died in vain to prevent. You reluctantly go with the man who murdered your love, turning back to look into the alley one last time to mouth a silent I'm sorry.

“You’re overreacting,” Fives criticizes while putting his hands behind his head. “He probably hit it by accident.”

“That doesn’t sound like Tup,” Echo argues as he concentrates on the beacon. “He could be in danger.”

“It’s date night,” Fives reminds Echo with a cheeky grin. “The only danger he’s in is getting blue balls.”

“Real mature, Fives,” Echo rolls his eyes without looking up from the data-pad. 

“Listen,” Fives starts, “I was having a great night until you dragged me out here, in full kit no less, to track down Tup and his girlfriend.”

“Yes, I’m sure your hand is missing you very much,” Echo jokes with a small smirk.

Fives flicks an unamused look towards his brother and scrunches his nose to mock him. “Ha-ha, very funny.”

“Just shut up and focus,” Echo says with annoyance.

Fives crosses his arms against his chest in protest and continues walking beside Echo in silence. They follow Tup’s distress signal, winding their way past shops and restaurants illuminated by fluorescent neon signs. The vivid colors and bright lights dance across their armor against the dark backdrop of the night. They stop momentarily when the beacon alerts them to the location of Tup’s comm link being only a little distance up ahead. 

Trading concerned looks between each other, they warily continue forward. Echo watches the beacon closely, the beeping pattern matching his anxious heartbeat. There’s no reason for Tup to be here in an empty street like this. They walk past an alley and the beeping from the beacon slows. Echo puts a hand across Five’s chest to halt him, then takes a few steps back. The beacon beeps faster as he approaches the entrance of the dark alley.

Odd is the only word the two Arc Trooper’s can come up with as they share a nervous look. They step into the damp alley, flicking on their helmet lights to see into the darkness, but nothing catches their gaze. There’s nothing in the alley other than garbage, dumpsters, and mysterious liquids littering the ground. They continue to look around, the beacon guiding them to the distress signal. The beeping is loudest by the dumpster and they move towards it to investigate.

“I knew it,” Fives sighs as he puts his hands on his hips. “He lost it and it ended up in the trash. I told you it was nothing to worry about.”

Echo grumbles at Fives’ words, crosses his arms in annoyance, and leans against the opposite wall.

“He owes me for this,” Fives says as he walks toward the open part of the dumpster. He grips the metal side with both hands and hoists himself up to peer inside. He prepares himself for the stench, but nothing could have prepared him for the horrific sight. A beaten and bloody clone. His breath hitches and his stomach jumps into his throat. He swings his legs over the side of the dumpster and jumps in.

He kneels next to the clone. Their body is so mangled and twisted, he can’t tell who it is. He brushes the hair out of their battered face and his heart sinks. A blood stained teardrop under their right eye. No. It can’t be. This can’t be Tup. Fives’ heart races. He puts two fingers to the side of his brother’s neck, checking for a pulse, repeating ‘please don’t be dead’ to himself over and over again, a silent wish. Then he feels it, a faint rhythm pushing back.

“Hang on vod’ika,” Fives whispers as he gently brushes more strands of the blood-caked hair away from his face. “Hang on for me.” He debates whether he should move Tup himself, but with the amount of bodily damage, there’s no good way to pick him up without injuring him further. Fives curses to himself. “Call the corries,” He orders through comms. His voice is steady, but conceals a bitterness.

Echo is startled out of his roaming thoughts and pushes himself off the alley wall he was leaning against, “What did you find?”

“I said call the corries!” Fives yells, his voice now demanding as anger and worry seeps through. “And get a medic!”

Echo is taken aback by Fives’ aggressive tone and jogs over to the dumpster to see what he found. If they need the Corrie Guard and a medic, it can’t be good. He jumps up the side of the dumpster and leans over to see Fives kneeling next to a bloody body, a clone trooper’s body. Echo’s face contorts beneath his helmet and he wants to gag, not just at the smell, but also at the morbid sight of bones sticking out of the beaten trooper’s lifeless body. 

He stares for a moment longer when the realization washes over him like the raging waves of Kamino. The distress beacon, the alley, the dumpster, the bloody clone. It’s Tup. There’s no denying it, those lengthy curls, the tattoo under his eye. It’s him. Echo’s blood boils and he lets go of the side of the dumpster, landing back on the ground with a soft thud. He calls it in, his normally stoic voice steeped in fear and anger. Fear for his brother’s life and anger at the perpetrator.

After the call is made, Echo makes a second terrifying realization. He looks farther down the alley, scanning it for another life. A second cold wave washes over him. You’re not here. You’re not in the dumpster. You’re not in the alley. You’re nowhere to be found. The thought that you did this to Tup flashes across his mind, but dissipates just as quickly. There’s no way you could do this type of damage to a clone trooper. No, it must have been someone else.

The Coruscant Guard, led by Fox, finally arrive on scene. Flashes of red and blue illuminate the area and the alley is marked off with yellow crime scene tape. Late night bystanders stare in curiosity at the commotion, crowding the corrie guards as they try to keep the public out of the way. Echo gives Fox a rundown of the situation and mentions that you were out with Tup and are now missing. Fox records the information and places a reassuring hand on Echo’s shoulder.

“We’ll find who did this to your brother, and locate the missing girl,” Fox promises. 

Echo worries his lip and takes his helmet off, tucking it neatly under his arm. “With all due respect, sir,” Echo begins, pausing for a moment to decide whether he’d like his next words to be a question or a statement, "we’d rather take this one.” He knows they have no jurisdiction on Coruscant and no business taking on local crime, but this is different. This is one of their own. This is their brother. He has to try. He has to find a way for them to be involved, to get revenge.

Fox pauses at the bold statement, his expression hidden behind his helmet. He studies the ARC trooper in front of him, a level of burning passion and rage alight behind his eyes. He can already tell there’s no stopping this clone, or his brothers. Even if he orders them to stay out of it, they’ll never obey, and that will just create more paperwork for him. Fox sighs, hoping he doesn’t regret his decision. He points to his men. “The boys will give you what you need.” 

Echo nods his thanks and Fox nods back before returning to his men to explain the new situation. Echo grits his teeth and clenches his bicep around his bucket. He’s angry. No. He’s furious. His brother is lying in a pool of his own blood, straining for air, and walking a thin line between life and death. His only thoughts now are retribution. Whoever did this is going to pay in blood. He takes a deep breath to calm himself and walks back to the alley to check on Fives.

Extricating Tup from the dumpster is no small feat, not with the amount of damage done to his body. The corrie guard had to bring in special tools to take apart the side of the dumpster piece by piece. Fives stays inside the dumpster with Tup and shields him from the sparks as they cut the bolts loose. Once the side of the dumpster is removed, medics work delicately to lift Tup out of the garbage and onto a stretcher. Fives does his best to help, but the medics push him away.

Echo watches the medics work and approaches the hole in the dumpster once Tup is safely removed. He peers inside and sees Fives still kneeling in the garbage, his armor covered in blood. Covered in Tup’s blood. He watches as Fives picks up the flashing comm link that was hidden beneath Tup’s body. He grips it in his hand and chucks it past Echo while yelling in frustration. He pulls his bucket off his head, leaving blood stains behind from his soaked gloves. 

“How did this happen?” Fives asks, his voice angry and quivering.

Echo drops his gaze and kicks the ground. He has the same question with the same nonexistent answer. He lifts his gaze back up to meet Fives and offers a hand to help him out of the dumpster. Fives takes a deep breath and grabs his brother’s hand to pull himself up. They both sigh and lean against the wall of the alley, neither knowing what to say. Their silence is broken when Fox comes back around to grab their statements and to let them know he contacted Rex.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the squad to show up. Some in their civvies, some in their armor, and some in gym clothes, but all with worried looks plastered onto their faces. Echo and Fives maneuver out of the alley to greet them, waving back to Fox in thanks for his help. Their brother’s eyes plead for answers, for explanations, for anything that will tell them what’s going on. They see the blood stains on Fives’ armor and murmurs erupt between the clones.

“Maker!” Captain Rex exclaims when he sees Fives. “What happened to you?”

Fives chews on his lip, unsure of what to say when he realizes Fox didn’t tell them what happened. “It’s...” he pauses, the thought forming into a painful crushing weight on his chest. “It’s not mine.”

“Then who’s is it?!” Rex questions vehemently while looking around and doing a mental headcount of his men, desperately trying to figure out which one of them is missing from the ranks. 

Fives casts his gaze to the side, unwilling to meet his captain’s anxious and questioning eyes. He doesn’t want to say it. He doesn’t want to keep saying it. The amount of times he’s already had to recount what he’s seen is one too many. The words are like poison, slowly peeling away at the layers of his tongue, making it raw with emotion. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore. It makes him sick. The words, the smell, and the image twists his gut in discomfort.  

“It’s Tup’s,” Echo answers when he notices the distant look in Fives’ eyes. The words are like sharp needles pricking his lips as they exit, leaving a bitter and bloody aftertaste. 

Shock sweeps over the group of clones like billowing smoke, stinging their eyes and stealing their breaths. Their respective nights had been interrupted by an emergency comm from Rex notifying them that one of their brother’s was the victim of a crime. Dinners had been left cold, warm beds had been abandoned, and activities had been ditched at a moment's notice. They thought they were prepared for whatever this crime was, but they were wrong, very wrong. 

“Hey!” Kix hollers after scanning the area to locate Tup. “That’s my trooper!” He runs over to where the medics are attempting to stabilize Tup for transport and demands a debrief from the lead medic. 

The two medics argue back and forth about Tup’s condition and who has jurisdiction. Kix gets in the lead medic’s face, pointing a finger at his chest, and yelling expletives. No one gets in Kix’s way or tries to stop him, because they all feel the same way, the same fear and anger. Fox overhears the heated discussion and intervenes between the two clones before a fight breaks out. He sees the same fire in Kix’s eyes as the ARC trooper and lets him take the lead of the medics on scene.

Fives watches the ordeal and rubs his hand across his chin, pulling at his bottom lip in exasperation, while absent-mindedly leaving a trail of blood across his chin and goatee. Echo notices the striking smear and cringes at his brother’s appearance. He steps in front of Fives and brings his hand up to his twin’s face to wipe it away. Fives leans his head back in resistance to the odd gesture, but the glint in Echo’s eyes convinces him to trust what he’s doing. 

“You should change into something else,” Echo mentions as he works to wipe the blood off. 

Fives looks down at his armor and a small alarm sets off in the back of his brain. He drops his bucket and looks at his hands, pressing his fingers together while watching the blood ooze from his soaked gloves. He was so wrapped up in helping Tup, he didn’t even notice just how much of his blood was on him, staining him with a constant reminder of his brother’s mutilated body. He rips his gloves off and starts yanking his armor off, stripping like a madman in the street.

He needs it off. All of it. He doesn’t want to see it anymore. He doesn’t want to remember the disgusting images in his head. He’s seen blood before, lots of blood, but not this blood. This blood is different. This isn’t the blood of the faceless enemy, this is the blood of his brother. He claws at his blacks, desperately trying to remove them from his body in a frenzy. Through his hysterical haze, he feels Echo place two firm hands on either of his shoulders and he stops. 

Fives looks into Echo’s eyes as Echo breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth. He copies Echo’s breathing, slowly bringing his panicked breath in sync with his brother’s calm breath. Once he settles in the new rhythm, Echo closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Fives’, silently reminding him that he’s not alone and that Tup is still alive and fighting. Fives closes his eyes and lets his mind go blank, mentally preparing himself for what comes next.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

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A03

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[unohanabbygirl]

To be quite honest I wouldn’t want Luke to fully recover as if by some miracle everything turned out okay. Not because I don’t want him to but because him relapsing is perhaps the most raw and realistic outcome at this stage. I do want him to eventually heal but that will take some time, and somehow Luke suddenly deciding to quit his “bad” ways and go straight seems too good to be true. Individuals with addiction issues stay in addiction because they are still emotionally and mentally hurting. Drugs offers an escapism from the past, it helps denying that anything bad happened. Luke doesn’t yet have the tools and skills to deal healthy with his emotions, his reactions towards everyone is exactly what I would expect from someone who’s emotionally damaged as him. Running away is also more likely for Luke. He’s not just feeling like the outsider but that somehow the family was doing so much better without him. And also he’s the loner now, the one who doesn’t share in those memories, so why should he start now, it’s too late, I can definitely understand if Luke decides to crash with his old friends or go back to his old ways.

Going back to his old ways once the truth of everything comes crashing down is the only way things can go at this point without throwing everything we’ve established in the trash, so I agree with you 100%. Having Luke just jump back to the person he was thousands of years ago just because some memories shook themselves forward isn’t how things work.

Yes, he has Lucerys Valeryon’s memories, and yes, he was once that boy. But that doesn’t change the fact that Luke Rivers is who he is now. Who he’s been and all he’s known for nearly eighteen years in counting. If anything, a relapse back into drugs and unsafe sex with strangers is more likely to occur once he remembers the past since it’s all too much to bear. These dangerous practices are his coping mechanisms, the only way he can deal with stress because whether or not his family wants to admit it, Lucerys will never come back. That innocent boy who happily held his big brother’s hand and practically worshiped the ground his mother walked on above all is still dead.

When things are at their most fresh, Luke will completely deny it at all. Choose to jump back into club scene and fast life as a means of running from his own mind until he runs on empty. And that’s a whole other can of worms.

The reality of this situation is a lot for anyone to handle but especially a kid who’s had no one to rely on but himself. Yes, there will come a time when he goes back to his family and they begin healing. However jumping right into the big happy family reunion mode is too good to be true.

#asks

[melis-writes]

Moth to Flame [Michael Corleone x Reader Series, 18+ Smut] Chapter 15 - Revelations.

Read on AO3 / Read Chapter 14 [AO3] / Tumblr / Chapter Masterlist / Fic Playlist.

18+, explicit smut read.

Upon the revelation of Michael's wedding photos with Apollonia from Sicily, all hell breaks loose. A thousand questions swarm your mind, believing yourself to be the "other woman"--confused and filled with an all consuming heartache as you struggle to understand why Michael chose to lie to you. Almost at your one-year anniversary, the two of you experience a bitter, everlasting fight as you struggle to discover the truth, believing you've been used and cheated on. The overbearing guilt on Michael exposes his most emotionally vulnerable side yet, fearing if you're unsatisfied with his answers, he's lost you. With the last of your dignity and tears pouring from your eyes, if you can't hear the full truth of what really happened in Sicily from Michael, then you'll be the one that leaves with the children--refusing to be another option alongside Michael's previous lovers.

[WARNINGS]: Heavy, long smut / Oral sex.

[SUGGESTIONS]: Anons for requesting: A steamy, long love-making smut scene with Italian sweet nothings / More emphasis on Michael's sexy hair.

1949. Your name is Victoria Ferrari, and you’re the only daughter of one of the most powerful mafia families in New York—the Ferrari’s. When the Ferrari family began to gain heavy influence and power, it struck a power imbalance with the Corleone’s. To bind the families together as one in an offering of peace, friendship and business, you are to be married to their youngest son, Michael Corleone. As you ensnare yourself in the life of a mob wife by Michael’s side, what you don’t know is his old ties with Kay Adams, your best friend from Dartmouth, and that he returned from Sicily a widower. A ruthless mob boss to be, you unravel Michael’s dark past and the brutality that has changed his personality. You find yourself adapting to your new life, betrayed by those you love most, and in high profile to Ferrari and Corleone family enemies. Falling deeply in love with Michael, you enter a life and marriage filled with secrets and darkness. Bearing his children, supporting his crime empire and following him into the shadows, you’re unable to deny your passion and desire to the new Don. When it comes to Michael Corleone, you are but a moth to a flame.

The photograph case falls out of your hands and hits the floor face down, shattering to pieces as Michael watches—feeling his mind buzz at the questions going through it.

Having not opened the photographs since he returned a few years back, then while still aware he had them, Michael threw them in his junk pile with the rest of his office trash much longer ago than he can remember.

When Michael rekindled things with Kay, it seemed out of the question yet again to look into his past. Michael knew there would be no answers there. He wanted nothing to do with the photographs or memories after he met you, trying to close the cover to that chapter in his life.

Over your dresser, the nightstand, the coffee table, over the fireplace, by the dining room, and the end tables in the living room are various photographs of you and Michael together, especially from your wedding.

Photographs of you extending your hand out to show off your dazzling engagement ring next to Michael, the two of you by the altar, the two of you dancing, standing happily in front of the villa together when you both first moved in, pictures of you and him with the twins, in the hospital after birth, and various other portraits of the two of you cheek to cheek are to be found everywhere in the villa.

None of them matter at the sight of the Italian-Greek girl in the wedding photographs with Michael, showing an entirely different version of him not just by physical appearance but by expression.

Even his hair is different—much looser, almost fluffier in a boyishly handsome style. A healing bruise upon his cheek, an innocent look in his eyes. It’s hard to believe it’s actually Michael Corleone in the photograph. The man that stands before you couldn’t be any more different from such an image.

The Michael Corleone you know, met and married, is stern, serious, dominant, in control of everything, and makes all the rules. He’s growing in power and influence by the day, has friends in powerful places, twice as ruthless, and is the prodigy Vito Corleone didn’t even expect him to be.

Michael no longer has any look of innocence upon his face, having been through hell and back—twice. It’s almost 1950 now, and four years since Apollonia has died. He was unconscious for two weeks after the incident of Apollonia's death; never having the opportunity to lay whatever remains of Apollonia could be scraped off to rest before he had to return to New York immediately.

Michael feels indifferent at the sight of Apollonia and his wedding photographs from years back. He doesn’t feel hurt, upset, or melancholic—he feels absolutely nothing. With Michael's marriage and bond to you, his attraction to Apollonia no longer exists. All he sees and wants to see is you—only now you remain before him broken.

Michael's only surprise comes from how the photographs got into your hands or if you were the one to find them. A million observations about your reaction are all he can think of as he stares back into your glassy, tear-filled eyes.

Michael takes a step to approach you as you hold out your hand, stopping him instantly. “No, don’t!”

You shudder, feeling each part of your body ache with your heart as you reach down, grabbing at the broken case with the photographs, cutting your hand in the process. You pick it up this time to stare back at the portrait of Apollonia, discerning out her Sicilian features.

Michael He takes another few steps toward you, but you stop him again, this time by hurling the photographs across the room and to the wall as it shatters again.

“Victoria.” Michael blinks at the sudden display of show, having never seen your calm disposition break into such anger before.

You let out a shaky huff, glaring at him. “Who is she, Michael?!”

“Victoria—” Michael refuses to stand back, walking over to you as you let out a howling sob, leaning back against the dresser and throwing your arm over it, knocking over as many wedding photographs of the two of you as you can find.

“Take it! Take them! Take them all to hell! Take these stupid photographs—” One by one, you smash them to bits as Michael lunges over to you, throwing your hand off the dresser and forcefully pulling you up from the floor. “NO! Let me go! LET ME GO! Don’t fucking touch me!” You shriek back, refusing his touch as you flail about, reaching to grab the broken frames on the ground, cutting yourself again and again as you throw them around wildly. “YOU LIAR!”

Michael doesn’t listen to you. None of your reactions stop him from holding you up to your feet, grasping harshly at your wrists with both hands. “VICTORIA!”

You sob loudly, refusing to look Michael in the eye. “Stop it, stop it! Let me go! I don’t want to see your face!”

Michael knits his brows. “Victoria, I can explain! Listen to me, goddamn it! I can explain everything—”

“I said, let me go! Get your hands off me!” You struggle against his firm grip over you, attempting to push him away to no avail.

“You're going to hurt yourself stop it—” Michael grunts. “STOP IT! ENOUGH!” He raises his voice sharply, demanding at you.

You stop attempting to wriggle free, tears pouring out of your eyes as you face him directly, a look of disappointment, heartbreak, and betrayal all looming over your expression.

“I said, enough.” Michael glowers at you.

“Y-you liar…” You hiccup back at him, feeling your heart shattered into a thousand pieces along with the photographs.

Michael lets go of your wrists as you quickly snatch them away from him.

“Listen to me.” Michael's stern eyes focus on yours, “and I will explain. You will listen to me.”

“No, I won’t!” You shout back in his face, immediately taking the opportunity to bolt out of the bedroom as fast as you can without a single look back.

“Victoria!” Michael shouts back, running after you. “Don’t you ever walk away from me!”

You sob harder, rushing into your office room. You slam the door shut but have no time to lock it as you can feel the pressure of Michael’s shoulder hit back at it.

Screaming at him, you give up and run to your desk just as Michael bursts in. You hold up a recently taken photograph of the two of you, looking upon each other’s faces and smiling that you keep upon your office desk as you work, threatening to drop it to the floor. “Not another step!”

Michael grits his teeth in anger, knowing he’s in the wrong but feeling infuriated by your reactions, now getting yourself harmed in the process too. “Don’t you dare!” He warns, pointing a finger at you.

You raise a brow at Michael, knowing you’re not bluffing. You grip your nails over the frame harshly, demanding answers. “Who is she, Michael? Whose that Sicilian bride of yours?! Does she even know we’re married?”

“Put it down, Victoria. You’re going to wake the twins.” Michael's voice grows louder, “put it down, and I can talk to you about all of this. Put it down.”

“Okay.” You croak, setting it down on your table before holding up your wedding band to him. “And what about this?”

“Victoria…” Michael’s irritation begins to grow as he watches you take it off your finger, throwing it at him as it hits his chest and lands on the floor. “VICTORIA!” He huffs out in frustration, immediately picking it up and putting it in the pocket of his dress shirt as he comes straight for you.

“You’re a liar! A liar! A cheater!” You bawl as he pulls you up to his body by your arms, the anger in his eyes growing tenfold. “I loved you! I love you, I love you, Michael, and this is what you do to me?! To our babies?!” Your voice breaks from all the shouting and crying.

Michael’s expression begins to soften at your words as you scream-cry in his arms, hitting at his chest to push him off of you again, “stop fighting me—I told you I’m going to explain everything! How dare you run off from me like that when I’m talking to you?!”

“There isn’t…” You struggle to breathe, finally stopping the thrashing about, “a damn thing you could tell me…” Fresh tears spill from your eyes as you look into his, “you broke my heart, Michael Corleone.”

“You’re coming with me.” Michael lowers his voice, tugging at your arm to lead you out of the office. “Move it.”

“No! I don’t wanna go anywhere with you!” You try to bat off his arm as he practically hauls and drags you into the bedroom without another word. “Let me go, Michael!”

“Enough, Victoria, okay?! Enough!” He lets go of you as you stagger back, holding onto the blankets of your bed.

“Or else what?!” You yell back defiantly, “you’re gonna tell your other wife I found out about the two of you?!”

“She’s dead!” Michael narrows his eyes, fuming. “There is no her—there is no other bride or woman! She’s dead, has been for years!” Strands of his hair come loose as he huffs out of his nostrils and leans down swiftly to pick up the two photographs now that they’ve come out of the destroyed case.

You swallow hard, watching Michael as he holds up the photographs to you, never looking at them once himself. He takes Apollonia’s portrait, ripping it and the wedding photograph of him and her to shreds before your eyes.

“She’s dead; she’s nothing to me anymore, do you understand?” Michael balls up the scrunched up pieces of the photograph, tossing them directly into the crackling flames of the fireplace.

You sniffle, keeping quiet.

Michael sighs quietly to himself, letting go of your face as he reaches down to pick up the shattered frames of your photographs with him, carefully placing them upon the dresser. “I told you I was going to explain everything, didn’t I? Don’t ever do this to me again, do you hear me?” He gestures to the glass before holding up his personal favorite wedding photo, the two of you first gazing upon each other at the altar as the priest was blessing and officiating your marriage. “Do you have any idea how much these mean to me? How much you mean to me? And our children?”

You weakly rub at your sore eyes, feeling your bottom lip quiver as you can barely muster up the will to say anything back. “You l-lied to me, you held it from me…”

“I did it to protect you, Victoria.”

“K-kept it from me…” You shudder from the sobs, peeking at him from one eye.

Michael steps over the glass with a disappointed sigh, gently taking your hand in his--examining it for any cuts or scrapes from the broken glass. “That was all in the past. I’m not that man anymore nor is that my life anymore.”

“She—she’s dead?” You hiccup, swallowing hard.

“Yes.” Michael answers sternly.

“How did she…?” Yo

“She was killed in an explosion back in Sicily.” Michael's expression doesn’t waver. “We were married for a year.”

'A year. We’re just shy of a year together…' You narrow your eyes at Michael, both finding some sort of relief from his honest answers at last but a sense of disgust and the unavoidable heartache in your chest.

“Why?” Your voice strains out heavily with sobs as your fears continuing pouring down your face.

“Why?” Michael's eyes meet yours for a second as he takes both of your hands in his.

You stare at Michael angrily, waiting for a response as you quickly snatch your hand back at the first opportunity.

“That’s a stupid question, Victoria.” Michael has a refusal inside of him to answer.

“No, it’s not. I deserve to know—“

“Why does anyone do anything?” Michael interrupts with a sarcastic, rhetorical question, beginning to grow irritated with your hostile tone towards him. "Don't be ridiculous."

“Why, Michael?!” You spit back.

Michael grits his teeth, placing both his hands upon the dresser as he slams it shut abruptly. “Watch your tone with me.”

You throw your hands up in surrender, getting off from the bed and directly approaching him. “I’m not the one that hid away a wife I had and lied about it! That’s what Sicily was all about?!”

“STOP IT!” Michael's eyes narrow at you, filled with a wave of growing anger. “Why did I marry her? What kind of a question is this?”

“I just want to know.” Your eyes scour his with the same temper. “Because I was your so called ‘arranged’ wife, wasn’t I? And she wasn’t? Don’t tell me you don’t see the obvious difference.”

Michael sighs loudly, rubbing his eyes tenderly. “Victoria…”

“TELL ME!” You shriek in demand. “She wasn’t arranged, was she?! You just went to Sicily and found her?”

“Yes!” Michael exclaims back. “Yes, I did! That’s how we met!”

You force a weak smile at him, nodding slowly. “Yeah… Now I get it. Nothing quite like being struck by the Italian lightning bolt when you see a woman, huh?”

Michael knits his brows, appalled deep down at how you read him. “Victoria—“

“And then there’s me." You break into another series of sobs, pointing at your chest. “Just a family pick to be arranged to marry you, right? How could you ever know or care?”

“You think I’m married to you out of obligation?” Michael scoffs. “Do you hear yourself?”

“You probably love her more. Or still do.” You stare down at your trembling, bandaged hand. “What would I know, right? How could I ever compare? I’m just your business deal. Maybe I’m not even what you truly want. I’m just the other woman—“

Michael spins you around to face him directly, pointing a finger at you. “Don’t ever, ever, refer to yourself like that, do I make myself perfectly clear? You are my wife!”

You struggle to steady your shaky breath. “Just an obligation for our families.”

Michael rolls his eyes dramatically, “so it’s come to this. Now you’re just saying anything.”

“It’s true.” You push him off you, quickly batting at your eyes to stop the flow of tears picking up again. “You’re Michael Corleone; the hell would I know…”

Michael's brow twitches as he notices you ignoring him as if nobody else was in the room, beginning to open the closet and grab out your suitcase. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” You rub the back of your hand against the bridge of your nose, setting the leather suitcase upon the bed.

“No.” Michael immediately makes his way over to you and throwing the suitcase across the room, landing on the shattered glass. “You’re just going to leave?”

“YES, I AM!” You scream back at him, hearing the cry of the twins start to come out from the nursery in response. “And I’m taking—“

“You’re not going anywhere, and you’re not taking our children!” Michael raises his voice over yours, pointing his finger at you demandingly.

“I AM! Who knows what else you’re hiding from me?! Lying to me about?! How can I believe anything coming out of your mouth?! For all I know, she’s still alive waiting for you in Sicily!”

“You and the children are not going ANYWHERE! You hear me?! VICTORIA! Don’t walk away from me!” Michael hisses as you make a break for it to the nursery. “VICTORIA!”

Running to the nursery as fast as your shaking legs can take you, you trip by the doorway, barely holding your balance as you clutch onto Verona’s crib—looking upon your baby daughter, who cries out in unison with Niccolò.

“I’m taking them, I’m—“ Your hiccupping sobs break through as you’re just about to reach in to lift Verona up into your arms.

You feel Michael lunge back at you, grabbing you from behind hard—taking you back into his relentless grip. “Look at me! STOP THIS!” He shakes you, forcing you to turn to him. You cry back out, powerless in his hold as your sobs mix with that of the twins in the room. “You’re not going anywhere, or so help me God—“

“I’m gonna ask!” You screech out, “I’m gonna ask your father! Your mother! EVERYBODY! She’s still out there, isn’t she?!“

“You won’t prove anything.” Michael lowers his tone. “Because I told you the truth and nothing but the truth. There is no such thing! You’re the only woman in my life. I told you what you wanted to know. You're the love of my life, Victoria."

You stop attempting to squirm free from Michael, swallowing the lump in your throat as you feel your heart pound at his words. Eyes slightly wide at the response, you notice his are reddened, filled with tears as he picks you up to your feet, breathing heavily.

Michael lets go of you, scooping up both of the whining twins in his arms and holding them against you so the both of you have them in your embrace. The twins sniffle alongside both of their parents, balling up their tiny hands and beginning to quiet down, recognizing you both.

Michael lets out a deep breath, giving a small kiss to both Niccolò and Verona’s foreheads before his eyes land on yours. “You’re my wife. You’re the mother of our children. Look. Look at them.” He gestures to the twins who clutch against your chest, sleepiness waning over them.

You sniffle, bouncing them in your arms gently, hugging your little babies.

“The love and respect I have for you are unmatched. You’re my life, my family, my home. You are my future.” Michael runs a hand down your shoulder, “come back to the bedroom, please. I want to talk to you. I don’t want to sit here and scream at you, and definitely not in front of our children. I want to prove to you I’m being truthful—but I need you to listen to me.”

You give out a small, glum nod, defeated as you tuck the twins back into their crib, feeling Michael’s eyes on your back as he begins to leave the nursery.

Making sure your babies are comfortable and lying on their backs, you take one last look before making your way towards the bedroom, keeping your eyes down on the floor.

Forcing back another flow of tears, you stand before Michael by the edge of the bed.

“Look at me, Victoria.”

You slowly raise your head up to face him, unable to form out a single sentence from how strained and slurred your voice has become from the scream-crying.

A distressed look remains upon Michael’s expression, filled with clear, raw emotion towards you. “I know you hate me for this. I don’t blame you. I shouldn’t have kept this from you.” He takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over it. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” You hiccup. “Why did you k-keep it from me, to begin with?”

"Because I completely let go of my past once I left Sicily. Everyone I knew there, where I stayed, who I was, also died with Apollonia.”

“Apollonia…” You repeat quietly. “That’s her name.”

Michael nods at you. “Yes. After I left New York, I, as well as my family, were convinced I’d have to remain in hiding for some time--at least until tensions cooled with Sollozzo and McClusky's deaths. When I arrived, I decided to settle, to make a life for myself.” Michael lies, knowing he had no intention of making Sicily his home even for a short time; he was a visitor and nothing more, but it was Apollonia who ultimately forced him to settle down because Michael couldn't even go near her without traditionally courting her first.

Michael simply cannot tell you that his decision to "settle down" came abruptly at the first sight of a girl he didn't even know before.

“Could have told me that.” You wipe at the tears on your cheeks. "I'm the most understanding person in the world. All you had to do was tell me."

Michael begins to caress your cheek gently. “Had you told me the same, I wouldn’t react well to it either. I couldn't know how you would react or when would have been truly appropriate to say, so I chose not to. I completely understand your reaction now.”

“You seemed worried.” You comment back, moving closer to Michael as he takes your hand, leading you to sit on the bed with him.

“I was.” He admits. “You’re my soulmate. I don’t want to lose you over something from my past.”

You blush furiously, looking up into Michael's eyes with hope. “I am?”

Michaelnods back, cupping both of your cheeks. “Yes. You’re more than some fever dream or fantasy. You think if I didn’t love you, I would have children with you? Share my bed with you? Give you my last name? You don’t give yourself enough credit for anything, Victoria. Everything you do is for our family and me; how could I not be indebted to you? I owe you a life like this. I owe you much more. And I promise you, Victoria, I promise, I’m going to spend a lifetime making this up for you.”

“But…had things been different?” You pout back at him, wanting the full extent of his answers.

“They aren’t.” Michael wipes at your tears, “this is fate. Our destiny. We wouldn’t be having this conversation otherwise and if we were, it would be no different than what happened with Kay. I would never marry for the sake of getting married. It has a lot of sentimental value to me as well. I can’t be strangers with someone I share my life with—give my last name to.”

“And Kay…” You lead on.

“Yes, Kay as well.” Michael continues to explain, “both women came into my life at very different moments. I only believe in the life I have.” His eyes soften, “we can go off to war, or we can practice law. We do what we can to carve out our own paths, to live our own lives, but we still come home to who we truly are. That’s what’s real—neither you nor I can ignore it. I’m not stupid—I know at some point in your life, at Dartmouth or not, there were others for you too. And now we ask ourselves what changed—why we left. It’s destiny, Victoria. It’s our fate, and I stopped struggling against it a long time ago. If you told me this today, I would also think I’m the ‘other man.’”

“Why?”

Michael looks into your eyes. “I accept your past and move forward from it, and I choose not to delve into it because I’m a very protective and defensive person—“

“You’re jealous.” You point out.

“You’re no different, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but—“ You begin.

“But you don’t realize it. I sleep next to you every night. I spend time with you. I have kids with you. I married you. I want to be with you. Not my past. The extent of my reaction would be very different compared to yours, however. I love only you, Victoria. It’s going to remain that way for the rest of my life—this I’m certain of. I never question that you love me, but you do, and I hate it. You won’t admit it to me. Everything I do is for you, and I’ve spared no method by my hands to keep you safe from those who’d wish to harm you, or…” He takes a moment, his expression twisting to annoyance. “Anyone who wants to lay eyes on you, for that matter. I don’t share. Understand?”

“Yes…” You hide an amused smile from your lips.

Michael leans in, pressing a warm kiss to your lips. “I’ll take you to Sicily.”

“Sicily?” Your eyes widen.

“I never got to give you a proper honeymoon.” Michael murmurs, grazing his thumb against your lip. “Not with what has been going on of late. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“Y-yeah?” You hiccup, feeling tears pooling in your eyes.

In truth, Michael hides behind the fact that he didn’t have any way of explaining it to you without the risk of hurting you or raising your suspicion, no matter his honesty. It’s coupled with many reasons why with the primary being he simply didn’t want you to know. That you knowing serves no purpose, creates no meaning—does nothing.

Your heart hurts and throbs before Michael, trying to understand—to take it all in and accept it, but the heartache is all too consuming at the moment.

Michael takes you in his embrace, pulling your body against his tightly as you sob into his shoulder.

Michael's arms lovingly wrap around your body. He rests his head over yours, rubbing up and down your back to soothe you.

Your eyes burn at the tears, feeling sore and abused from the repetitive crying as you let out everything inside of you, from the moment you saw the photographs to screaming back and forth at each other.

For a moment, all you knew and believed about Michael Corleone seemed to waver, seemed to be covered in a thick fog of dishonesty, and you couldn’t take it—physically or mentally. W'hat if I was the second woman? What if everything I had been living was a lie?'

“I’m sorry, darling. I’m sorry.” Michael lowers his voice, whispering in your ear. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You can’t speak out as your tears have clouded your vision and the scream-sobbing slurring your speech as your throat feels raw and deeply sore.

You clutch onto Michael as if it’s the last embrace you’ll ever have, feeling your tears quickly soak through his dress shirt.

Michael doesn’t usher you or attempt to stop your crying. He lets you take it all out, talking to you in a calming tone. “It was my decision, you know. I wanted to marry you. I did.” He runs a hand through your hair, pushing aside stray strands. “We both had a choice, family matters or not. There was something different about you when you walked into my father’s office that day.”

You listen intently, sniffling about.

“That was the first time we saw each other. Do you remember?”

“Of course…” You slightly peek your head up.

“It was almost a year ago.” Michael gives your forehead a small kiss, inhaling at your scent. I couldn't get my eyes off you." Michael softly kisses your cheek. “I was staring at my future wife, you. You could have left at any given moment.”

“What do you mean?” Your wrap your arms around Michael's shoulders.

“Before the engagement ceremony, or even after. Both of us could have. We weren’t forced to marry one another.” Michael pulls you up closer on his lap before reaching into his dress shirt pocket. “Had we truly not felt something for each other then, we had all the time in the world to leave.”

our eyes find your gold wedding band in the palm of his hand. A wave of bitter sadness rushes through you as you remember how you took it off your finger and threw it at him just moments ago.

“This is just a ring.” Michael holds it out, looking into your eyes. “It has no meaning on its own. My marriage to you says more than a material item could. But if your heart isn’t it in it, then something like this doesn’t matter at all, does it?”

You nod, remaining quiet as he gets off the bed, gesturing for you. “Come here.”

You take Mihael's hand, hopping off the bed, careful to avoid the chunks of glass beneath you as he reaches down, picking up each smashed frame of your wedding photographs and moving the thrown open suitcase aside.

“I’m sorry.” You croak, covering your mouth at the sight.

“You had every right to act the way you did.” Michael sets the photographs upon the dresser carefully, rolling up the sleeves to his dress shirt as he clutches your wedding band in the palm of his hand.

Your eyes widen as he looks upon you, slowly getting down on one knee.

“The way our family does things has always been unconventional, Victoria. Believe me, when I say, family arrangement or not, I would still find my way to you, and I would still marry you—Sicily or not. I want to give this meaning for you because you deserve it.” Michael holds up the ring between his index finger and thumb. “I never had the opportunity to ask then. So—will you marry me?”

You gaze back at him, feeling tears about to spill from the corner of your eyes as you nod, smiling weakly and extending your hand out. “Yes! Yes, I will.”

Another rare time Michael flashes a smile at you, slipping the ring over your finger and giving your hand a soft kiss. “I told you, I’m going to do whatever I can to make it up for you.”

Michael stares down at your hand for a moment, running his over yours gently before pressing his lips down upon the back of your hand once more. “You are my true bride, Victoria.” He grazes his lips and the tip of his nose up your arm until he reaches your elbow, leaving a trail of tiny kisses before his hands find your hips, and he moves in closer, sealing a deep kiss upon your lips.

“I’ll—“ He kisses you again, each kiss growing hungrier and sloppier, “make it up—“ he rubs at your waist, “to you, I swear.”

Face flushed red and lost in his kiss, you give in, lacing both of your hands with his as the two of you share the intimate moment.

“Ti voglio bene.” (I love you.) Michael breathes, repeating it over and over again. “Ti voglio bene, Ti voglio bene…”

“Ti amo di più…” (I love you more.) Your breath hitches as his hands slide down onto your thighs, squeezing at them as he slips them underneath your nightgown.

“Let me make it up to you, darling. Let me…” Michael's eyes darken with lust as he kisses both of your thighs sloppily. “I haven’t been able to please you in so long.”

You shiver in delight at Michael's touch, finding yourself increasingly drawn to him and his seduction. His chestnut eyes peek back at yours between your legs as he continues to keep eye contact with you, kissing up and down your calves. “Only if you let me.”

You give a shy nod of approval, knowing how badly you crave him yourself, melting at his touch as he massages at your feet, continuing to kiss and suckle sweetly in between your thighs, making his way upwards.

With each kiss, Michael grows closer to your sex, and you feel your legs start to quiver at the build up of arousal returning to you, starting to slightly soak at your panties.

“God…” He breathes hotly in between your legs as he presses his lips up to the wet patch in your panties.

“M-Michael…” You whine out softly, barely able to keep yourself sitting upright.

In an instant, Michael snatches your panties right off your legs, keeping his head between your legs as you run your hands through his soft, jet-black locks.

“You’re perfect…” He inhales at your scent again as you cringe, blushing furiously and clutching one hand down upon the bedsheets.

You give out a soft gasp, feeling the tip of Michael's Roman nose trail down your clit agonizingly slowly, causing you to buckle your hips up in response. Taking that as a green light, Michael buries his face into your mound, cupping your ass with both hands as he uses his thumbs to spread your lips apart.

You moan loudly, throwing your head back, feeling Michael's warm tongue sucking upon your clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure soaring through you. Sensation after sensation, Michael uses his thumbs to apply a bit of pressure around your pussy, rubbing in a circular motion as his tongue does the work.

Filthy moans escape your lips as you find yourself enthralled by how he memorized each sweet spot in your body, watching through half-opened eyes as he keeps his perfect pace, sloppily eating your pussy. Michael pushes your nightgown up above your stomach, revealing his bedroom eyes dripping with sex as strands of his hair cling to his forehead.

“Michael, Michael…!” You cry out, your legs shaking against his shoulder blades, each moan louder than the last.

Michael presses down his tongue against your clit, licking up the juices trickling down your thighs and only burying his face deeper in response. You feel as if the orgasm building in your gut is about to explode as Michael grazes his nose against your clit again, this time flicking his tongue in and out of your pussy.

You cry out, feeling his warm tongue inside of you as Michael only continues to press his nose down over your clit until you feel your orgasm unwind inside, completely taking over you.

You orgasm around him, looking down now to see a completely different version of Michael Corleone. Enthralled by every inch of you, his dark eyes scour upon your body with months long, deep longing desire.

“Ti voglio bene.” (I love you.) Michael groans out against you, hovering over you with his hands spreading your thighs open completely.

Feeling as if the room got ten degrees hotter, your fingers make do with the buttons of Michael’s dress shirt, throwing it off him along with his dress pants and briefs in a heated rush. Completely naked above you and fully erect, he helps you shrug off your nightgown quickly, leaving you in nothing but your bra.

The scent of his freshly washed, clean skin hits you as he unhooks your bra, letting it fall off the bed to reveal your tender, full breasts.

Michael reaches down, pumping his member before you as a droplet of his precum drips upon your inner thigh. “Voglio te… Ho bisogno di te…” (I want you… I need you…)

The arousal flaring inside of you is too much to ignore. Your body practically writhes and begs for him by the second as he takes your thighs, wrapping them around his waist.

Michael's messy, tousled hair hangs over his forehead, his eyes dark like onyx as he gazes at you—a dangerous passion growing inside him. “I’ll be gentle, darling, I promise.”

A shy smile forms over your lips as you tighten the way you wrap your thighs around his hips, each touch against his skin feeling like fire. You gyrate your hips forward, feeling his tip dangerously close to your entrance as Michael takes the hint, thrusting in ever so slowly.

A moan escapes both of your lips as Michael rolls his eyes back, inhaling sharply.

Just the sound of his velvety voice moaning out is enough to bring you to your knees as Michael makes you take every inch of him until his hips come into contact with your pelvis.

His tone is filled with a longing desire as he embraces you lovingly, beginning to thrust deeply and slowly in and out of you.

“Fuck, you’re so tight…” Michael exhales shakily.

The familiar, intense sensation of pleasure Michael’s been craving for months hits him hard, and he’s unable to keep his mouth shut from moaning about—generally preferring to keep his groans quiet—something he has trouble with when it comes to oral.

“Michael—ah!” With every inch of his cock thrusting inside of you, you can’t help the loud whimpers coming out of your mouth as your lip trembles, your body reminding you just how aroused and horny you get with his teasing, dirty talk, and the slightest of his touch.

“Oh my God…!” You moan loudly, feeling him kissing the outline of your jawline, leaving sloppy, harsh little kisses in pace with how he makes love to you.

“I love you, I love you…” His thrusts are in a slow rhythm, his hips moving in unison with yours.

Your eyes scour over his perfect, naked body, pressing yourself against Michael as he continues thrusting upwards, teasing every sweet spot inside of you. “I’ve waited so long to feel you again… Let me have all of you…”

“Per favore—“ (Please—) You shiver as you can feel his breath against your neck, the scent of sex surrounding the two of you as he trails the tip of his nose against your jawline, leading his kisses down your neck. “O-Ohhhh…”

Your clit throbs badly against Michael , feeling his waistline come in contact with it with every thrust, fucking you perfectly slow to feel all of you.

“Y-yes, Michael… yes—Oh! Yes!” The feeling of his warm, wet tongue against your hot skin sends waves of arousal pulsating through you, your body begging for more. “YES!”

“You’re close…” Michael chuckles breathily, his hands cupping and massaging at your breasts—the tenderness only amplifying your pleasure. “I make you feel good, huh? Answer me.”

“Y-yes, yes…” You nod back at him quickly, barely able to talk back as you feel him thrust even deeper.

Michael grazes the tip of his tongue against your bottom lip before pressing in for a full kiss. Butterflies swarm in the pit of your stomach as you feel your orgasm dangerously close to approaching.

With another thrust, you lazily gaze up at Michael, whose hair, a complete mess and dangling loosely over his forehead from his thrusts, now cocks his head back—letting out a much louder moan over yours, attempting to grit his teeth to keep quiet as his heavy breathing and groans take the better of him.

You grin back at him, out of breath; the sounds of him making love to you like music to your ears.

“Sei così perfetto.” (You’re so perfect.) Michael pants, the sound of skin slapping against skin being heard between the two of you as his lips find yours once again.

You moan in his mouth, feeling him slow his thrusts down but hit directly at your G-spot, over and over again. “V-Voglio di più!” (I want more!) You cry out loudly, your lips just a centimeter shy of his.

“Dimmi che mi vuoi.” (Tell me you want me.) His voice falls to a husky whisper as his hand makes its way down your waist and beneath your thigh, giving your ass a firm slap.

“Voglio te, Michael!” (I want you!) You groan out in response, whining for more as you dig your nails into Michael's back, holding onto his firm back.

Michael raises your thigh up, pushing it up to your shoulder as you can hear the sloppiness of his cock coming into contact with your soaked pussy.

Michael gives out a shaky breath, holding your hips with both hands as he quickens his pace, giving you several sloppy, full-mouthed kisses. “I’m gonna cum in you, baby…”

You see him strain to keep quiet, pressing his lips down firmly as he grunts, squeezing his eyes shut, surrounded by the sounds of your wetness sloshing in contact with his cock and your moans building up louder and louder.

“Y-yes, please—“ Michael takes both of your thighs, pushing them up to your shoulder blades as he continues fucking you straight on, almost at his breaking point.

You giggle back, out of breath and highly amused at Michael's expression—intoxicated in pure ecstasy as he enters you in and out.

You jerk your waist up in response, feeling yourself cumming around his cock against your will, half gasping and half moaning.

“Ah!” His voice drips with sex as he angles his hips, striking at your G-spot.

Michael jerks his head back, letting out his loudest moan yet as his cock twitches inside of you, his seed spilling out in several spurts.

He attempts to cover his mouth, but you hold onto his arm, swatting it away to hear all of him. “Fuck. Fuck!” Michael hisses, stopping, still buried inside of you as he finished his orgasm, clutching onto your shaking thighs.

Your orgasm hits you like a shockwave, making all your muscles writhe at the incredible feeling flowing through you—nothing like you’ve felt since he pounded you pregnant in his office almost a year back.

Michael shudders in pleasure, pulling out of you and placing both of his hands on the bed, still above you. He regains himself quickly, chuckling down at you. You find yourself on Michael's lap before realizing his hardness still poking at you.

You gasp quietly, exchanging a surprised glance with him.

Michael stares at you, licking his lips and raising his brows up in invitation.

You eye his length, blushing to remember he was just inside of you moments ago.

“Don’t.” Michael speaks out softly, holding out a finger. “Or I won’t be able to stop.”

“Thought you said you owe me.” You smirk at him, moving over closer on your knees.

“Touché.” The two of you laugh quietly amongst one another.

Your heart skips a beat at the rare sound of Michael’s soft laughter as the two of you make eye contact—a mutual longing and love behind both of your eyes.

You get onto his lap, still on your knees with both your thighs on the side of his as you reach your hand up and into his silky, black hair, tousling it between your fingers.

'He’s absolutely perfect.' Your cheeks sting red as Michael sits there before you, a more innocent, relaxed look in his eyes rather than his signature stern gaze at everything.

You liken him to a Roman statue, unable to deny how severely attracted you are to this man.

“You have that look in your eyes again.” Michael whispers to you. “You looked at me like that when we got engaged.”

“I-I did?” You blink, looking back at him.

“It’s so you have no question about how I feel about you. Think I made that and my intentions very clear tonight.”

“Definitely…” You lean in, planting a small kiss on the tip of his nose. “But I want you to open up to me more.”

“Just you.” Michael clarifies, “I can do that.”

You point at the corners of your mouth, frowning sternly. “Michael Corleone always looks like this.”

Michael stares back at you in the exact same manner.

You burst out in a fit of giggles, “you’re doing it again!”

“You’re trying to make me more like Sonny?”

“What’s wrong with Sonny?!” You laugh harder.

“What isn’t?”

“Stoooop!” You playfully smack at his shoulder, covering your breasts with your arm. “I’m supposed to be mad at you.”

Michael pulls your arm down, scolding you. “Tsk tsk, let me see.”

You attempt to cover them again with both arms to no avail.

“Let me see…” Michael cups your sore breasts, placing a kiss in between them.

You flush red, running a loving hand through his hair as his eyes peek up at you. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Michael moves back, gesturing down and pumping himself slowly. “You thought I was?”

You clutch at your reddened cheeks, inching yourself closer, so you’re directly above his member.

“Come on, baby.” He angles his hips upward. “I’ll let you, with one warning.”

“Which is?” You place your arms around his shoulders, just slightly hovering over his tip.

“I’ll be merciless.” Michael's eyes darken as he trails his hands down your stomach.

“Show me…” You push your hips down, taking all of him inside of you once more with a shuddering moan.

Michael exhales in response, steadying his hips as he leans his back against the headboard of the bed. You force your shyness aside as he guides your hips with his, pounding upwards inside of you at a quickened pace, leaving no room to catch up.

“Faster?” Michael searches your eyes for a response as he bounces you up and down on his cock.

You nod shakily, feeling the delicious sensations of pleasure return to you, now doubled by how sensitive you’ve become from your last orgasm.

“That’s right…” Watching you in amusement, Michael speeds up, slamming up into your pussy just as he said—mercilessly. “Take all of me in…” Your pants mix with your moans as he fucks you at a completely different angle from your previous missionary position.

Unable to form a coherent sentence with Michael ramming up inside of you, the only thing to escape your lips are moans in response to the intensity of the pleasure he makes you feel, thrusting every inch of him fully in you.

He throbs deep inside of you, using one hand to secure your hips upon his and using his free hand to toy with your clit, rubbing at it in quick circles as you whimper loudly, unable to control the buildup of your orgasm as Michael has you completely enthralled over his cock.

“That’s it—come on baby—” Dripping with a mixture of your and his cum as your orgasm tips over the edge, taking over you, Michael speeds up his pace, groaning and never stopping as he clasps a hand over your mouth, muffling your screams of pleasure.

Squirming and groaning against Michael, your lower body convulses around him—his pulsating cock only continuing to slam in and out of you faster than ever. You gasp shakily, unwarned by him as you feel him cum inside of you again—both of your chests pressed up against each other.

“Oooh…” You wince in pleasure, barely able to hold on, as Michael lifts your hips up, pulling out of you. “I…I…” You cling onto him—a flustered and freshly fucked mess.

“You fuck so good…” Michael whispers back at you, knowing the effect his dirty talk has on you.

“M-Michael…” You blink up at him in a haze from your orgasm as you remain in his embrace, attempting to steady your breathing as he holds onto your quivering thighs. “Oh my God…”

“I know you like the back of my hand.” Michael pushes a curtain of your hair behind your ear. “I know what you like—I missed you… I missed making love to you.” The two of you share a sweet, breathy kiss.

You and Michael stopped having penetrative sex at your seventh month of pregnancy, with Michael having decided himself, much to his dismay, for the comfort and safety of you and the twins, no matter how slow or careful.

The intimacy between you two became softer as a result—kissing in each others’ embrace, cuddling for hours, hands roaming down each others’ bodies, with the occasion of you performing oral sex on him, even though with your hormones you felt more aroused than ever.

Michael’s been dying since to return the pleasure to you, to feel your warmth around him and make love to you eagerly. The intimacy you two share is never one-sided as long as it can be helped.

Never did a single night pass where he didn’t take you in his embrace, gingerly rubbing and kissing at your baby bump and chuckling when he felt one of the twins kicking.

During the last four months of your pregnancy, Michael's overprotective side flared out the most. He didn’t let you wear any shoes that had even the slightest heel and hired a personal chef and a maid so you wouldn’t have to tire yourself. Perhaps he doesn’t admit it out loud, but even you know deep down his thoughtfulness and caring towards you is limitless, always present.

“Ti perdono.” (I forgive you.) You say to Michael softly as he caresses the side of your cheek with the back of his hand. “I forgive you because I love you, but Michael…”

“But?” Michael pulls up the blankets to your chest, taking you in his embrace.

“Don’t ever do that to me again, please.” You force back a wave of tears. “Don’t keep things from me…don’t lie to me. Please—my heart hurts. Promise me.”

“Yes, of course. I promise, darling. I’m sorry.” Michael murmurs quietly, giving your forehead a soft kiss as you rest your head upon the pillow.

“I just want you to be more transparent with me.” You give him a slight nod, cozying up to his side. “You can be open with me; I want you to know this.”

“I know, darling.” Michael muses, “I’m trying. I never had the opportunity.”

“I’ll be patient for you.” You smile back at him, lacing a hand with his. “Always. I missed seeing you like this…being with you like this.”

Michael gazes back at you, lost in a brief moment of thought to himself as sternness crosses over his face. ‘Who the hell found those photographs? This was all entirely planned. Sandra, or Connie…’ He can’t shake off the uncomfortable feeling, unable to put a name to his suspicions. ‘Somebody who clearly had access to my office.’

“Michael?”

“Hmm?” His eyes look back down on you before coming to a realization. “Oh—again.” Niccolò’s crying breaks out from the nursery once more.

“Here—” You begin to sit up before Michael shakes his head, coaxing you back down.

“No, no. Darling, let me.” Michael gestures to the bandages. “Do we have a bottle?”

You nod back, blushing at his fatherly initiative. “In the nursery.”

“Alright." Michael grunts, getting out of bed and grabbing his briefs on as you giggle to yourself quietly under the covers, admiring his physique from behind.

“You sure you won’t need my help?” You call out as Michael grabs on his crinkled dress shirt, about to exit to the nursery.

“I’ve got it handled.” Michael replies, heading back into the nursery and turning on the lights, finding Verona half stirred from the sound and Niccolò whining, attempting to kick about.

“Hey, hey…” Michael ushers, scooping up his son into his arms, quickly grabbing at the full bottle over top of the dresser.

Niccolò places his tiny hands over Michael, wiggling in his arms as Michael holds at him properly, gently grasping the bottle and bringing it up to his lips. “There we go, little man.”

Niccolò latches on immediately as Michael continues to hold the bottle for him, watching in fatherly awe at his infant son blissfully drinking away, his dark eyes peeking around the room.

Michael glances over at Verona, finding her drifting back to sleep as he walks over, assuring she’s laying on her back as he continues to feed Niccolò.

Noticing the sound of the crying immediately going down, you sneak out of bed, careful with your hand and to avoid the glass on the other side as you peek out from the doorway, watching Michael humming in a hushed tone to Niccolò as he holds up the bottle, pacing by Verona’s crib.

‘Sleeping soundly…’ Michael notes, noticing Niccolò pulling the bottle away from his mouth. “All done?” He whispers back to him, setting it back aside where he got it from.

“Hic.” Niccolò lets out a sound, cooing quietly in Michael’s arms.

Michael embraces his son gently, running the back of his index and middle finger against Niccolò’s cheek softly. “Love you, little man.” He plants a tiny kiss upon Niccolò’s forehead, holding him, so Niccolò’s head peeks over Michael’s shoulder as he rubs his back in slow circles.

You can’t hide the beaming smile on your face as you spot Niccolò gazing lazily at you, his little fingers curling up into tiny fists as his eyes slowly begin to flutter shut.

“What did I say?” Michael whispers urgently to you, turning around. Instead of sternness over his face, he appears relaxed, fatherly, enjoying the little bonding moment with his son. “I'm taking care of it."

“I couldn’t resist.” You blush, watching Michael grab at the cloth upon the babies’ dresser, wiping at the corners of Niccolò’s mouth.

Michael’s eyes gaze from yours to Verona’s and Niccolò’s as he gently lays him on his back in his crib.

You approach, placing your hand on the rim of the crib next to Michael as he wraps a loving arm around your waist. “He’s always the fussy one, isn’t he?”

“Maybe for now.” You speak back quietly, pointing at the corners of your mouth again. “But then when he grows up, he’s gonna be like…” You make another serious, stern face, mocking Michael.

“You’re doing it wrong. Like this.” Michael stares back at you—his expression completely empty.

You cover your mouth, stifling a fit of laughter as he reaches down, grabbing you into his arms bridal style as the two of you make your way out of the nursery and back to the bedroom.

“Either you’re sleeping on my side tonight or on top of me.” He decides, glancing at the glistening mess of the glass shards surrounding your suitcase. “I don’t want you to accidentally step on any of these.”

“The maid is going to hate me tomorrow, isn’t she?” You pout, rubbing at your arm.

“She used to clean for Connie, so don’t worry about it.” Michael carefully leans over, taking the broken photograph frames of the two of you from the wedding, setting them upon his nightstand. "It's something she's unfortunately used to."

“And those…?”

“You don’t worry about it, darling.” Michael rubs at your hips, gesturing you to get into the middle of the bed as you crawl in, making yourself comfortable underneath the comforter, pulling the blankets over you. “I’ll have them redone before you even wake up.”

Walking over to the fireplace, Michael carefully puts it out, setting the poker aside and rolling up the sleeves to his unbuttoned dress shirt. He gets in with you, pulling you close to his embrace.

“Get some rest for me, alright? I don’t want you to have exhausted yourself by morning.” Getting next to you in bed, Michael brings your hand up to his mouth, leaving a little kiss over it—his eyes briefly admiring at your wedding band once more upon your finger. “Goodnight, darling.”

“Goodnight, my love.” You whisper back, snuggling up to him—your heart finally feeling at ease in the comfort of his arms as he closes his eyes, his breathing steadying.

Your eyes fixate upon the darkness of the bedroom, landing on the still fireplace and its fresh ashes, remembering how Michael so easily tore up and tossed his old wedding photographs in there without even a single glance.

“She’s nothing to me anymore, do you understand?”

You feel a tug of jealousy in your gut, reassuring yourself from what he told you, unable to pull your eyes away from the blissful sight of Michael peacefully beginning to drift off—his hair a tousled mess and his dress shirt beyond wrinkled only loosely hanging off his arms and shoulders.

Tears burn in the corners of your eyes as you relax down your tense muscles, knowing although your mind and heart remain at ease tonight under Michael’s promise and honesty to you, you feel the ache in your heart continuing to linger. The soreness in your throat, the cuts on your hand—all reminders of the horrible night you wish you’d be able to pass off as just a nightmare, but it’s reality—argument, fight, and all.

Your eyelids flutter shut. Only the sound of Michael’s soft breathing and the cool, evening air flowing in from the ajar bedroom window are to be heard.

Just as your eyes finally close and you begin to clear your mind, you hear Michael’s quiet, raspy voice laced with sleep speak out to you, “I love you.”

#the godfather #godfather #al pacino #michael corleone x reader #michael corleone x oc #michael corleone fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #godfather au #michael corleone smut #michael corleone x reader smut #my writing #michael corleone #moth to flame fanfic #the godfather x reader #al Pacino x reader #godfather x reader #alfredo james pacino #melis-writes #moth to flame fic

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 26: Post Canon

A Moment's Silence | @wingsdestiel

Rating: Mature Word Count: 1,110 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Canon, Fluff, Established Relationship, Falling!Cas, Non-Graphic Smut, Vers Castiel, Vers Dean Summary: Dean still can’t pinpoint exactly when everything shifted into place between them. It had been happening for a long time.

Popping The Question | @vampamber

Rating: General Word Count: 1,147 Main Tags/Warnings: marriage proposal, nervous Dean, Dean proposing Summary: It's just a little question. Easy, right? Not when you're as emotionally constipated as Dean Winchester. But he loves Cas, and wants to be with him for the rest of his life, so it's an obvious choice. Just... will he survive the asking? And how the hell is asking a guy to marry you more difficult than hunting literal monsters?

Dean Winchester is Dead | SC_ript (AO3)

Rating: No Rating Word Count: 1,947 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel and Dean Winchester Reunion in Heaven, Love Confessions, Post-Canon Fix-It, Jack Kline as God, Castiel gardens Summary: Dean Winchester is dead. But he is still beautiful. Still Dean Winchester.

42 (There must be something more) | @chaoticdean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,979 Main Tags/Warnings: Dean Winchester's Birthday, Birthday Party, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Everyone lives because we're final denialists deal with it, Birthday Sex, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, (they do switch but not in this ficlet), Fluff, Dean Winchester is Loved Summary: Dean had spent a lifetime celebrating birthdays in motel rooms and gas stations, beheading vampires or getting thrown through a room by some sort of monsters, when he wasn’t simply forgetting that he even had a birthday in the first place — bigger fish to fry, apocalypse to stop, God to kill… You pick your flavor. But things were different now. Dean was turning 42, there were no monsters in sight, no shitty motel rooms or Gas’n’Sip’s disgusting coffee in the middle of Ohio, and they were throwing a party.

Jingle Bells | @notfunnydean

Rating: General Word Count: 2,638 Main Tags/Warnings: alternative ending s15, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Mistletoes, Getting Together, Love Confessions, Dorks in Love Summary: Dean doesn’t want to celebrate Christmas. He misses Castiel, but maybe he can pull pranks on their guests to cheer himself up? Sadly that backfires. Or, well, good that it does.

Heavenly | @sunshine-zenith

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,864 Main Tags/Warnings: Past major character death, Dean and Cas in Heaven, post-canon/canon compliant, references to grief/mourning, humor, dumbasses to lovers Summary: Cas has been avoiding Dean in heaven, despite Dean's best efforts to find some information on the guy. Seriously, Dean was beginning to feel like a creepy ex (which wasn’t fair since Cas was the one who ollied off to the angel graveyard before Dean could un-bluescreen himself and say “I love you” back, which meant they didn’t even get to be exes), fishing for information from everyone on Cas’s whereabouts. The others made a point to bash over his head how Dean and Castiel had apparently been in love and could have been together for over a decade if he had just gotten his head out of his ass sooner (again, super unfair. It takes two to make up destiel, and it's not like Cas had been rushing to declare his undying love until just before he died for the last time. Unless you count that other time in the barn where he thought he was dying, but the angel totally chickened out when he backtracked with his “I love you all.” This wasn’t all on Dean, and he was taking that fact to the- well. Not grave. They’re all a little past that at that point). Luckily, eventually, Cas comes to him.

Happy Resurrection Day | @mittensmorgul

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,652 Main Tags/Warnings: Getting Together, First Kiss, Road Trips, Canon Compliant, Anniversary Summary: The world didn't end, and Dean and Cas finally get to choose each other. It only took twelve years and a little road trip back to where it all started.

A Healing Touch/New Experiences | @mattzerella-sticks

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,717 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Season 15, Coda to 15x17, Massages, Dean Winchester needs Therapy, Human Castiel Summary: Maybe if Cas hadn't abandoned him, he wouldn't have agreed to Adam's offer. But with free will finally theirs, Cas made his choice, and Dean his. Now he has to live with the consequences - even if they are awkward. He won't die from it, certainly. It's only a massage. But what Dean doesn't know, is that it's more than a massage. It's healing

Pies, Rings, and Heavenly Things | iCeDreams (AO3)

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 5,636 Main Tags/Warnings: Heaven Summary: Cas has been acting strangely. He's been dragging Dean around Heaven, has been trying to cook—and in the process, demolish Dean's kitchen. --- “You’re making pie? ‘Cuz I love pie.” “Yes, Dean. I don’t think anybody could have forgotten your fierce attraction to pie.” Castiel laughed as he pointed towards the mounds of blackberries and apples.

Under the Same Sun | @caparazona

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 13,866 Main Tags/Warnings: Love Confessions, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dean Winchester Has Internalized Homophobia, First Kiss, Blowjobs, Handjobs Summary: In which time is infinite, and so is the list of people willing to help Dean figure out what to do about Cas. A fix-it for a lot of things: Dean's repressed bisexuality, Dean's utterly inexplicable failure to realize what Cas meant, the Charlie & Dean brother/sister content I crave, and Bobby and Sam loving Dean no matter what. Dean and Cas deserve their happily ever after.

thunder road | @dothwrites

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 20,883 Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Canon, Human!Cas, Everyone Lives, non S15 compliant, Road Trips, First Kiss, First Time Summary: After Chuck is defeated and the Winchesters settle into life without God, Dean Winchester is bored. OR: Dean and Cas take a road trip and figure out some stuff along the way.

corinth rains | @theshopislocal

Rating: Mature Word Count: 35,140 Main Tags/Warnings: angst, slow burn, depression, vague suicidal ideation, brief interactions with John Winchester Summary: New and improved Heaven may well be the Happiest Place (not) on Earth. But Dean, it turns out, is still Dean.

#destiel trope collection 2021 #day 26 #post canon #destiel #supernatural #fanfic

[plussizeappreciationfics]

Move on

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Bisexual!Plus size reader

Warning(s): smut, 18+ only, cussing

“O-Oh she’s already in your room?” you questioned perplexed while clinging onto your water bottle, the nasty emotions of jealousy and bitterness coursing through your body as Bucky gave you an awkward nod, his metal hand rubbing his other arm. His eyes quickly scanned you from head to toe and you knew that he was trying to read you, so in an instance you cleared your throat loudly and placed the bottle of water on the counter.

“Okay, have fun. Just don’t be too loud” you politely requested and forced a small smile, hating the way you were feeling. “Thanks and I will” the super soldier promised and then turned on his heel, leaving the kitchen area and going back to his room. Once he was out of sight, you clenched your eyes shut and let out a string of cuss words. You didn’t know that sharing your apartment with your now ex-boyfriend would be so unpleasant.

The two of you had broken up a few weeks ago due to the constant arguing, the love you once used to feel for one another had somehow vanished and instead had been replaced with pure dislike for one another. The break-up was a nasty one too: some disgusting words had been thrown in your faces and doors had been broken from being slammed so hard. You had planned on moving out, not caring that the apartment had been purchased by both of you. You just needed to heal from this emotionally traumatic event but fate had another plan for you: the pandemic happened.

Moving away was impossible so you were stuck with Bucky who currently was dealing with the breakup in his own (and stupid) way: sleeping with any woman he encountered when leaving the apartment. This really was the worst time for you because despite being heartbroken, you couldn’t just get over a four year relationship in a span of a few weeks. You still loved Bucky despite the way you had ended things with him. So, having to hear him fuck a stranger’s brain out on the daily wasn’t helping you at all.

“Oh shit” you hissed to yourself when noticing you had zoned out and had lost a few minutes. The jealousy and bitterness was now cooling down as you made your way to your own room, remembering that you had to prepare yourself for your date. 

Yes, that was correct.

You had downloaded a few dating apps as you couldn’t sit in the apartment 24/7 and mourn the failed relationship while Bucky was getting his dick wet every single day. After creating your profile, you had set your settings on women only. The few profiles you had looked at were very interesting and the women were super nice. 

There were no thirsty comments, no creepy attempts at getting some nudes out of you or stupid and cheesy pick up lines that would leave you cringing to the max. After days of meeting and talking to this pretty transgender woman named Lisa, you were actually excited to leave the haunted apartment and get to know her. You didn’t have any solid intentions for the date, you just wanted to get out and interact with someone.

So, with a soft sigh you started to pick out an outfit and get ready to take a shower.

~~~

“Oh fuck” you moaned when Lisa growled while leaving sensual kisses up and down your neck, her soft hands gently cupping the rolls on your stomach, her leg resting in between your spread ones and giving you just enough friction to leave you craving for more. You bit your lip when she let out a soft chuckle, loving how she had you like pudding in her hands. 

The date had gone very well, the chemistry in between you two was amazing and the good vibes just radiating off of you. Lisa had just gone through her own messy breakup and was relieved to have found someone who was able to relate to her. She was in awe of your beauty and unique personality and immediately had requested to take you out on a few more dates, to which you had happily agreed to. 

When she had walked you to the door to your apartment, she had leaned in and gently asked to kiss you. The second your lips had met each other, they melted into one and the next thing you knew, you were passionately kissing each other while making your way to your room. You were so wrapped into the exciting and lustful situation that you hadn’t even bothered to acknowledge Bucky leaving his room and shooting daggers at your date as he felt a pang of jealousy rush through his body.

“Can I take your shirt off?” Lisa gently asked to which you eagerly nodded your head before helping her remove your shirt. The hookup wasn’t planned but nonetheless, you were happy because you were in awe of this amazing woman. All you wanted to do was to feel her naked body against yours and bring the two of you to the all delicate climax.

“You’re so beautiful” she gushed when your bra had been thrown into a random corner of the room and your breasts were exposed to her greedy eyes. You smiled and removed her shirt before running your hands up and down her naked chest, your fingers teasing her hard nipples while the wetness gathered in your panties. 

Lisa squealed in surprise when you took control and rolled her on her back on the mattress, your thick legs resting on either side of her waist. You leaned down and pressed your lips against hers, your hand sliding down her stomach and into her pants. “Mhm…” you moaned once you felt her drenched sex against your hand, her wetness coating your fingers while you starting to softly rub her swollen clit.

“Yes!” Lisa moaned out and arched her back, giving you all the space to appreciate her smooth and elegant neck with your lips. You went straight to work and increased the movements of your hand, loving the pleasure you were giving your date. You grinded your hips against hers and let out a few moans as the material of your pants gave you the perfect amount of friction against your clit.

“[Y/N]!”

Bucky’s voice came booming from the other side of the door, his loud knocks echoed through your room seconds later while you quickly got off Lisa and made sure that her naked was covered before snatching your shirt from the floor and throwing it back on. “What?!” you yelled once you opened the door and met your angry ex-boyfriend. He was panting in fury while glaring at you, then at Lisa who was now underneath the covers and awkwardly staring back at him.

“I want you back. Tell your date to leave so that we can talk our issues through and stop acting like idiots”.

Your eyes fluttered in surprise as you stared dumbfoundedly at your ex. The nerve this man had to not only interrupt your evening, but to also have the audacity to suddenly claim to wanting you back. You stepped out of your room and closed the door and let out an angry chuckle before glaring at Bucky.

“Who the fuck do you think you are, telling me what to do?! We broke up because we are dysfunctional and not compatible. And you have some fucking nerves to rudely interrupt my date, acting all jealous and possessive while you’ve been busy fucking every SINGLE woman in the city!”.

Bucky hadn’t been prepared for this confrontation and shamefully stared down at his feet as he finally realized how much of an asshole he had been. The breakup had left him hurting too but the super soldier decided to choose the wrong coping mechanisms. Truth was that he still loved you and to witness that anyone could just swoop in and take you away from him had left him afraid and anxious.

“I’m packing my things and am moving in with a friend tomorrow morning. This shit show can’t continue. Goodbye”  you hissed before turning on your heel and entering your room again. You had expected Lisa to have gotten dressed and voiced her discomfort of the whole situation before asking to leave, so seeing her lying completely naked on the bed and waiting for you had you let out a pleased sigh.

“I know that you’re hurting. I am too. And I’m not expecting anything from you, but I want to help you forget about this whole mess for a while and after that I’ll help you pack your belongings. Is that okay?” Lisa explained, her eyes holding nothing but truth in them. “I’d love that” you smiled while slipping out of your clothes, appreciating the naked woman lying on your bed. She giggled when you joined her and immediately captured her lips in a sensual kiss while your hands roamed all over each other’s bodies. You didn’t know how things would work out once you’d move out, but you knew that you’d get over Bucky and heal from this.

Tag list: @jamesbarnesappreciationclubub  l @pleasantdreamqueen l @disneymarina l l @harleycativy  l @sparklemichele l @melaninmarvel l @amethyst09 l @the-force-of-imagines l @bossyboyd03 l @pebblesz892 l @stars8melanin l @brittyevans l @toc1985 l @janeyboo l @badassbaker l @winters-beauty l @cannonindeez  l @ilovefanfic86  l @adorablespecialsnowflakes l @brittanyovens l @kanupps06 l @jazmynejack l @thebookwormslytherin l @theunsweetenedtruth l @talannalew l @littlexmissxfandomxlover l @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes l @crimsonash330 l @booklover2929 l @aranelgrey l @panda-duuu l @thisismysecrethappyplace  l @titty-teetee l @honey-anon l @princess-evans-addict l @hp-hogwartsexpress l @malindacath  l @letsdisneythings l @scorpionchild81 l @shado-raven l @alisoncdariel l @plutoneu l  @queenoftheworldisdead l @briannab1234l @miyaeadys-blog l @thenamelesscorpse2185 l @hihellogoodbyebruh l @nackrosor l @nerdgurl1985 l @2darkskinbeauty l @bugngiz l @african-melanin-goddess l @barnes-wilson-love l @ktiz90 l @let-the-love-in l @forlornfortitude l @robinredboob l @hopefuloperaangelnerd l @kola95 l @partypoison00 l @alwaysadreamingoptimist l @reniescarlett l @g0thicdream l @mayasopinions l @captaintightpants58 l @leillee

-Emmanuelle 💋❤️

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bisexual reader #plus size reader

[baepsaesbae]

Heal Me, Kill Me Ch.3

Pairing— Kim Taehyung x reader

Genre— Vampire! Tae x Vampire Hunter! y/n, ANGST, Smut +18, fluff

Warnings— Oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, being tied up, Dom!Taehyung, ass eating

Word Count— 6.6k

Summary— You’re one of the best vampire hunters in the world. That’s to be expected when your parents are the best of the best. Your life had solely revolved around ruthlessly killing vampires. You were essentially a cold blooded machine. However, things take a turn once you meet Kim Taehyung, your latest target.

“When will I see you next, dear?” Taehyung asked as he walked you back to your car.

“When would you wanna see me?” you replied.

“Honestly, I’d never want you to leave. I’d selfishly keep you all to myself,” Taehyung lightly pinned you against your car door. 

“Maybe one day you could,” you say, wrapping your arms around him.

Taehyung planted soft kisses on both of your cheeks. You pulled him in for a deep kiss right as he began to step away. One hand cupped his cheek while the other got lost in the tresses of his long dark hair. Taehyung reciprocated your neediness as he roughly grabbed your ass. 

“I still need to repay you for the other day,” he seductively whispered.

“I’ll remember that for the next time,” you winked, “Meet at the flower shop tomorrow?”

“Sounds like a plan,” Taehyung gave you a final goodbye kiss.

The drive back was awful. You were torn. Torn between duty and passion. It was your duty to kill Taehyung, but your newfound empathy kept you from doing so. Even when Taehyung was on the brink of death, you couldn’t commit to your plan. 

Telling yourself that you needed to know the truth behind your parents’ death was just an excuse. Of course you want to know the details of what happened, but that’s not what stopped you from killing Taehyung. 

You just...couldn’t. You didn’t want to. Maybe there could be a way to fake his death? It could create the perfect cover to run away together. Maybe he could live with you in secret. Well, he probably wouldn’t appreciate the fact that you kill his brethren for a living. 

You have a month before Yoongi contacts you again. He’d know something is up by then. You’ve never taken longer than a month on a mission. Thinking about all this gave you a headache. 

You decide to do the responsible thing. You’re going to enjoy the month you have with Taehyung and worry about all of your problems when you can no longer run from them. Aside from the moral dilemma of having to exterminate your boyfriend, you actually felt happy. It felt nice having someone by your side. 

You fantasized about seeing the world with Taehyung. You wanted him to teach you more about plants, cook for you, and maybe most importantly, love you. The concept of love had been completely foreign to you. However, being with Taehyung sparked something you’ve never quite felt before. Was it simply the mortifying ordeal of being truly known by someone else? Or was it the acceptance and appreciation for the real you? Maybe it was a combination of both.

You hopped into the shower before your thoughts became too philosophical. You set your phone’s speaker on full volume and sang along to your favorite songs. TWICE had the best songs to sing and dance to in the shower (dancing in the shower can be dangerous, but you like living life on the edge). 

Being emotionally exhausted allowed you to fall asleep quickly. You woke up the next day feeling refreshed after a much needed good night’s sleep. Pairing a black maxi dress with a knitted cardigan, you felt cute and comfy. 

Biking to the shop was a simplicity that you enjoyed. It was relaxing, the scenery was gorgeous, and the simple act of biking to work made you feel like a normal person. There was a new shipment of flowers that arrived, along with a fresh set of bouquet orders. 

‘To keep you busy while your target takes his time, thanks flower girl :)’ was scribbled on a note atop the orders.

You rolled your eyes, silently cursing Yoongi. Thank god Taehyung was coming today, you could put him to work. You began to fill up multiple vases with water and plant food, humming as you worked. 

“Good morning ___,” a deep voice sang out as soon as the door opened.

“Morning dear! You’re in a good mood today,” you spun around to greet him.

“Of course, because I get to see you! I see you’re prepping vases. Do we have more orders to fill?” he asked excitedly.

“Indeed we do! I’m glad you’re excited about it,” you handed him the stack of orders. 

You admire Taehyung’s sharp yet delicate features as he glossed through the orders. His mouth moved silently as he read the order descriptions to himself.

“Do you only take orders for funerals?” he asked when he finished.

“Huh?” you were taken by surprise.

“It just seems like all of the bouquet orders contain flowers that symbolize sympathy in some way. Lilies, carnations, and especially chrysanthemums. In most European cultures, chrysanthemums are only used for funerals,” he explained. 

“I have no idea what these bouquets are for. I, well I guess we, merely fulfill the orders,” you shift uncomfortably. 

Taehyung was remarkably sharp. You remembered that Yoongi said these flowers are for the families who have been victimized by vampires. 

“Ah, okay. I was just curious. Let’s get to work, love. Can you bring me pink carnations and lilies please?” he asked.

The day was filled with nonstop preparations. You tied decadent bows around the vases that were finished as Taehyung arranged the most beautiful bouquets you’ve ever seen. He shyly explained that he loved art in all forms, and bouquet making was its own special artform.

“I used to paint a lot as a hobby,” Taehyung admitted.

“Why’d you stop?” you asked.

“I had no more inspiration. No muse, I guess you could say,” he said sadly.

“Do you still have your paintings? I’d like to see them.”

“They’re hidden away somewhere in my house, but I’ll dig them back up for you. It might make me a little sad though. I miss painting.”

“Why don’t you pick it back up? It doesn’t matter if you have a muse or not, just paint whatever comes to mind,” you shrugged.

Taehyung looks at you, visibly amused, “What do you think I should paint?”

“A dick,” you deadpanned. 

“A what?” Taehyung was shocked.

“A penis,” you cracked a smile.

“___! You’re so vulgar,” Taehyung blushed.

“I’m just kidding! But just for the record, I think your dick is pretty enough to paint,” you smirked.

“You think so?” Taehyung’s voice lowered.

He reached over to cup your cheek before leaning in to give you a quick kiss. Feeling playful, you lightly bit his bottom lip as he pulls away. Taehyung’s eyes darkened as soon as you did that.

“Someone is feeling bold,” Taehyung tsked before pulling you into him.

Grabbing you by the ass, he hoists you up and sets you on the counter. He harshly kissed you as you wrapped your legs around his waist, begging him to get closer. Taehyung kissed up and down your neck, before harshly sucking on it. The sudden pain caused you to cry out and squirm, but Taehyung’s firm grip prevented your escape. Taehyung chuckled at your response.

“Don’t think you can get away with being cheeky with me, darling,” he cooed in your ear.

His hand slipped between your thighs, his cold fingers lightly inching closer to your core. 

“Taehyung…” your voice trailed off.

“Yes, darling? What do you need?” he teased.

“I need you to--”

The front door chimed, interrupting you. Taehyung dragged you off of the counter with inhuman speed, spinning you back to your spot with the bows. The quick force made you dizzy, but you were grateful for it. It would have been embarrassing for a customer to catch you in such a compromising position.

“Hello again dear,” a familiar voice called out to you. 

You turn to see elderly couple smiling at you from the front of the shop. The elderly woman was waving at you.

“Good morning! How are you two? Here for your roses again?” you politely welcomed them in.

Taehyung is smirking to himself as the conversation continued. You wanted to hit him for being so brazen. The elderly couple updated you on their bakery, saying that next time they’ll bring you fresh goods. You laughed and told them you would gladly trade flowers for their baked goods. 

“Who is that handsome boy over there? Is that your lover?” the elderly woman whispered to you. 

“Oh, I uh, I guess you could say that. That’s my boyfriend,” you blushed, suddenly becoming shy.

“Wow you hit the jackpot, girl,” the elderly man remarked, “That boy might very well be the most handsome young man I’ve ever seen in my life. Besides myself of course.”

The couple laughed and you couldn’t help but join in. Taehyung shyly looked over and respectfully bowed. You could tell he reverted back to his timid and stoic state. You had forgotten how standoffish he was around new people. 

The elderly couple happily left with their regular bouquet of roses. Taehyung’s tension melted away as soon as they left the store. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself, they seemed sweet,” Taehyung apologized.

“Don’t worry about it. They’re the only customers I’ve ever had here. I guess the shop makes its money from all of these orders,” you resumed tying bows.

Taehyung’s smirk crept back onto his face as he snuck a glance at you.

“What?” you asked with annoyance. 

“Nothing.”

“Taehyung.”

“That’s me.”

“What are you smirking at?” you asked.

“Maybe you should look in a mirror,” he suggested. 

Horrified, you whipped out your phone. At first, you didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. There was nothing weird on your face. But then you saw it. A huge hickey was showcased in the middle of your neck. It was impossibly dark and its sheer size had you in awe. At first you were impressed, but then the dismay set in when you realized that the elderly couple must have seen it. No matter how blind they were, there was no way they could miss that. 

“Taehyung, you asshole!” you scolded him.

“Did you not enjoy receiving that?” he questioned.

“I did, but I didn’t want to show it off to my only customers!” you cried out.

“I’m sure they had their fair share of fooling around when they were younger,” Taehyung teased as he took your hand and pulled you closer, “Should we resume where we left off?”

“Can you remind me where we were?” you nipped at his ear. 

“Certainly,” he growled, hoisting you back onto the counter.

Planting kisses across your jawline, his hands spread your legs apart. Again his fingers flitter a trail in your inner thigh. Your neediness caused you to roughly press your lips against his while weaving your fingers in his hair.

His fingers grazed your clothed pussy, causing you to shudder. He lightly teased you, slowly rubbing your clit in a circular motion. 

“Faster,” you begged.

Taehyung obliged, picking up his speed. He applied more pressure, bringing you closer to the edge. Pulling aside your panties, his long fingers ran between your folds. You threw your head back in pure bliss.

He slowly inserted a finger into you, relishing your moans as he got deeper. You were so wet that he easily added a second finger. He took his time entering your pussy.

“You’re so warm, darling. And so wet. Is this all for me?” he gazed into your eyes.

“Yes, Taehyung. Oh mm,” was all you could say before trailing off into a moan when his pace picked up.

His fingers curled to hit your g spot with each pump. It was getting too intense, and your breaths became quick and shallow. You were right on the edge when Taehyung removed his fingers entirely. Your pussy clenched around nothing, and you whined at the sudden emptiness.

“Can I taste you, dear?” Taehyung asked.

You quickly nodded, desperate to get to your high. If Taehyung reduced you to this much of a mess with just his fingers, you could only imagine what his mouth could do. 

Taehyung buried himself under your dress, draping the fabric around his head. At first you couldn’t help but giggle. It looked a little silly, like he was hiding under your dress. Your giggle was replaced by a gasp when his tongue made contact.

He began lightly licking stripes through your folds, flicking your clit with his tongue each time. His tongue took its time exploring your intimate area, flattening out in order to gain the most coverage. 

His attention was then focused solely on your clit. He circled it with his tongue before gently sucking on it. The new sensation made you cry out even louder, but your voice hitched when he plunged two fingers back into you. 

The knot in your abdomen returned as your grip on Tae’s hair tightened. His free hand kept your legs spread open as you began to thrash around when your climax got closer. Taehyung was now moving his fingers at an inhuman pace, and his tongue was getting rougher on your clit. 

You let out a final cry as you release all over Taehyung, the intensity hitting you like a truck. You’ve never had an orgasm like this before. You were panting hard to catch your breath while Taehyung appeared from under your dress.

His face was glistening with your juices. He shot you a smug smile before wiping his face with the back of his hand. He seductively licked your essence off of his own hand. If you weren’t so spent, you would have immediately jumped on his dick after seeing that. 

“Did I satisfy you, ___?” Taehyung questioned.

“I believe so,” you exhale, “The evidence is all over your face. Wait, I think it’s on your forehead?” 

“Probably. I’m pretty sure you squirted. The inside of your dress is a mess,” Taehyung shrugged.

You hopped off the counter and sure enough, there was a puddle on the counter. Your dress was also a wet mess. A random passerby would have thought you wet yourself. You were flustered by the thought.

“I made quite the mess, huh,” you sighed.

“That’s my fault. Should I never repeat that mistake?” Taehyung playfully jabbed.

“I never said that,” you replied defensively, “But now I have to clean that up.”

“Can I help?” he offered.

“You can help by finishing the rest of the orders. I can take a few days off when all the orders have been fulfilled,” you suggested.

“A few days? Would you be free to spend those days with me?”

“What else would I do?”

Taehyung got back to work quickly. You chuckled at his diligence. To your surprise, Taehyung managed to complete the orders by the end of the day. He loaded up the cart by himself and hauled it over to the post office in record time. No doubt the postal workers were in awe at his sheer strength when they saw him single handedly bring drag the full cart. 

“So, are you free tomorrow?” Taehyung asked shyly when he returned.

“I think my schedule just cleared up. Why do you ask?” you played along.

“Would you like to come over and have a day on the lake with me? I can fish while you nap alongside me,” he suggested.

“Lemme think about it,” you pretended to mull it over, “I guess you convinced me. I’ll come over around 10? Or is that too early?”

“It’s never too early for you, darling. The best fishing happens around dawn anyway,” Taehyung replied.

“You want me to come around dawn?” your eyes widened.

“That would probably be too early huh? We can do something else instead then. Wanna be lazy and watch Netflix?”

“I thought you didn’t like technology,” you teased.

“I don’t. But I enjoy lounging around with you. And you got me hooked on Marco Polo.”

“Hell yeah I did. Just wait till you see Peaky Blinders!” you beamed enthusiastically.

“Can’t wait. I’ll see you tomorrow then?” he asked as you both stood outside the shop.

“Yes sir. It’s a date,” you nodded.

You found yourself waking up early the next morning, the excitement of seeing Taehyung made you restless. Was his hold over you that powerful? Or perhaps it was something else that had him never leaving your mind? Those questions swam in the back of your head as you picked out your outfit for the day. 

With your laptop bag in tow, you hopped into your car. It was around 8am by now. It was by no means the crack of dawn, however it was early enough for you to lull back to sleep if Taehyung really wanted to go fishing.

The sun was blocked by a thick wall of dark clouds, which was the normal weather in this area for some reason. Even without the sun shining down on you, a faint warmth hugged your body as you approached Taehyung’s house (and no, it wasn’t humidity). This feeling was new, and you couldn’t quite place it. It was as if the sheer buzz from your romantic feelings kept your cheeks warm 24/7. 

The front door swung open immediately after your first knock.

“___! Good morning, my darling. You’re here early,” Taehyung greeted you.

“I woke up early and decided it wouldn’t hurt to show up a bit earlier. Do you still wanna go fishing?” you asked.

“We can certainly try, if you’d like. We can have fish for lunch if I catch anything,” Taehyung pondered.

“I can potentially try more of your cooking? In that case, I definitely want to try,” you piped up.

Taehyung nodded in agreement. He helped you put your stuff away before disappearing to gather fishing supplies. In his absence, you blankly stared at the table where you tried to poison him just a few days prior. Was it a mistake to change your mind? If it was wrong to let him live, why did it feel so right to be with him?

“I got everything! Did you want to fish too? I only have one rod, but we can share,” Taehyung called out, snapping you away from your thoughts. 

“I’m fine with sharing. I’ll take a nap if I get bored,” you smiled at him.

You carried the fishing rod to the lake alongside Taehyung, much to his chagrin. He argued that he was more than capable of carrying everything by himself, but you claimed that you would feel useless if you didn’t help him. He let you carry the lightest item as a compromise. 

 Taehyung easily guided the little boat to the middle of the river. The shores were barely visible in all directions. It would be incredibly easy for either of you to dispose of the other. His back was turned to you as he cast off his line. A simple flick of your wrist and Taehyung’s head would be lost in the lake. Your body tensed up at the thought.

“Isn’t this scene so serene?” Taehyung broke the silence.

Your gaze moved from his back to the calm waters. It was indeed beautiful. Fog rolled along the surface of the lake, making it even harder to see the shoreline. Normally this would be perceived as eerie, but it was oddly romantic to you. 

Your body relaxed as you rest your head against Taehyung’s firm back. This predicament you were in was silly. Maybe if you came clean to Yoongi he’d support you. Afterall, he wanted you to have a normal life. Being with Taehyung for the last few weeks has made you feel like that kind of life was possible. 

“It’s beautiful, Taehyung. Like you,” you responded, hugging him from behind. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” he was amused.

“Of course I do. But so would anyone who’s ever seen you.”

“Your opinion is the only one that matters to me, ___. Thank you. You are the most stunning creature I have ever laid my eyes upon,” Taehyung happily hummed. 

“You’re too sweet. I feel so at peace right now. I think I’m gonna fall asleep,” you yawned.

“Go ahead, darling. This may take awhile,” Taehyung chuckled. 

You succumb to slumber almost instantly. It was an enjoyable nap until your dreams turned odd. You were enveloped in darkness, shivering. You gasped for air but to no avail as you struggled to breathe. 

“I wish I didn’t have to do this,” you heard a faint voice say.

“Tae? Taehyung are you there?” you cried out.

You abruptly woke up with a gasp, your sudden movement rocked the tiny boat.

“___? Are you okay?” Taehyung turned around to comfort you.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I guess I had a bad dream,” you replied.

“What did you dream about?”

“I’m not sure. It was weird. I couldn’t see anything, but I was extremely cold. And there was this voice. It kind of sounded like yours but I can’t really remember,” you shivered.

“Well, you’re okay now, darling. I’ll make sure no one can ever hurt you,” Taehyung reassured you, “Good news, I managed to catch 3 fish! They’re a pretty good size.”

Taehyung triumphantly showed you his catches. He was right. The fish were pretty sizable. You couldn’t wait to eat whatever he cooks up with them. 

You tried to shake off the uneasiness from your dream. Luckily, Taehyung distracted you on the way back. He started humming a tune, which soon turned into a song.

“I still wonder, wonder, beautiful story,” Taehyung sang aloud.

  His voice was captivating. You’ve never heard a voice so angelic before. His song calmed your nerves almost instantly. 

“I didn’t know you could sing. What can’t you do?” you asked in awe as you entered his home. 

“I just dabble in it. I have many hobbies. Like painting, as I mentioned before,” Taehyung admitted.

“You say you like to paint, but as soon as we have a painting date, you’re gonna reveal that you’re the next Monet or some shit,” you shook your head.

“I’m happy you hold me in such high regard, darling. I’ll admit that I’m a better cook than I am an artist,” he chuckled as he began prepping the kitchen.

“Oooh I can’t wait! Do you need any help?” you asked.

“No, I think I can handle it on my own darling. You just relax and keep me company, okay?” he made eye contact with you.

You smiled and complied with his request. You never grew tired of conversing with him. Before you knew it, the dish was complete. The fish were filleted in the most ornate manner, with a skill level on par with Gordon Ramsay. The taste was even more exquisite than the appearance. You’ve never foodgasmed before, but this dish just did you in. Taehyung gave you a boxy smile when you praised his food. 

The remainder of the month was filled with days similar to this one. As promised, you helped Taehyung tend to his garden as he gave you advice on how to not be a plant killer. One day, you surprised him with a painting date. You brought over small canvases and paints, only to find out that Taehyung has his own studio set up in one of the many rooms in his humble abode. Nonetheless, he was delighted by the surprise (turns out he also really was the next Monet, his paintings were incredible). 

You also began to spend the night at his place. You made it a habit to bring an extra set of clothes to leave in your car just in case. Taehyung even got you your own toothbrush to leave at his place (how romantic). 

Tonight marked the two month anniversary of you two meeting each other. Taehyung wanted to commemorate this day instead of the day you guys actually started dating. You thought it was odd, but you didn’t argue against it. 

He surprised you with an extravagant bouquet that he arranged himself. Dressed up in a suit and treated you to dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town. You dressed up too, the clothing was reminiscent of how you dressed on previous missions. 

You honestly forgot that you were on a job. You were too busy living out the life of your dreams. A normal one with the bonus of being in love with a gorgeous man who happened to love you back. The thought that your month of peace was nearly over crept up on you while you were getting ready. You pushed the thought away immediately. You still had time to live out your fantasy, even if it was fleeting. 

Your red velvet dress dipped scandalously low on your chest, and it hugged your curves promiscuously. Taehyung’s jaw dropped and transformed into a smirk as soon as he picked you up. 

The meal at the restaurant was good, but you both knew that Taehyung could cook a better one. But it was nice to go out for a change. You could feel eyes on you during the entire evening, but you weren’t sure if people were staring at you or your date. After all, your date’s appearance rivaled that of the gods.

“Did you enjoy your meal, darling?” Taehyung asked as the waitress took away the plates. You noticed that she took every opportunity she could to interact with him, such as filling up his water every time he would take a sip. You were going to say something, but decided against it since you couldn’t really blame her. 

“I did! I’m stuffed,” you huffed.

“Not yet.”

“Hm?”

“You’re not stuffed yet,” Taehyung repeated himself, then continued to lower his voice, “You look ravishing tonight. You’re always stunning, but tonight I don’t think I can control myself.”

“Who said I want you to?” you teased, leaning over to further expose your cleavage.

“Where the fuck is the check? We need to go immediately,” Taehyung flagged down the waitress.

Taehyung sped all the way back to his mansion. Every bump in the road caused you to squeeze your legs together, increasing your horniness. You tried to get Taehyung to put his hand on your thigh, but he refused. He claimed that if he touched you now, he’d have to take you then and there.

You couldn’t wait to get to your destination. You and Taehyung shared some sexual encounters, but he insisted on taking things slow. He did not want you to feel pressured to have sex with him (even though you made it clear that you truly wanted it). However, tonight was different. Taehyung would finally have his way with you, just like you’ve been wanting since you laid eyes on him.

He carried you bridal style all the way up to his room. He roughly threw you onto the bed, causing you to giggle.

“Get your giggles out now, love. I promise you, you won’t be laughing for the rest of the night,” Taehyung growled with a tone you haven’t heard before. 

You pulled him into bed with you, your lips locking into a passionate kiss. Hands began to wander as the kiss deepened. As tongues delved into foreign mouths, articles of clothing were being stripped off. You tossed off Taehyung’s suit jacket and began to unbutton his shirt. Taehyung grew impatient and ripped your dress in half. You whined in protest since you actually liked that dress, to which Taehyung laughed and promised to get you another. 

Now both in your underwear, Taehyung stopped to gaze at your nearly naked body. Your matching black lingerie made you look sinful, and Taehyung was ready to indulge. Your hand lightly grasped his bulge before it was swatted away. 

“Nuh uh, babygirl. You obey me. You are only to do what you’re told. Understand?” Taehyung scolded as he tied your wrists together with a rope you didn’t realize he had nearby. 

“Yes sir,” you responded. His dominance made you wet before he even touched you there.

“Good girl. Flip over,” he demanded. 

You followed his order, rolling over to lay on your arms and knees. You propped your ass out for him, wiggling it around playfully. A harsh slap stung your bottom, causing you to yelp out in pain.

Taehyung pulled down your panties, running a finger through your slick folds. He teased your clit, rubbing it in circles agonizingly slowly. Before you could complain, he licked a long and flat stripe along your pussy. His tongue swirled and flicked at a euphoric pace that had you seeing stars. He inserted two fingers into your soaked pussy as his tongue traveled to your ass.

You gasped at the new sensation, you’ve never had your ass eaten before. You tingled in new places as his tongue explored the intimate region. His fingers curled in you as he pumped them into you. You felt your climax build up as your pussy began to clench.

“Cum for me, babygirl,” Taehyung ordered, increasing his pace. 

The control he had over your body was incredible. You had an intense orgasm as soon as he uttered those words. Your body shook under him as you released the knot that formed in your lower abdomen. 

Taehyung flipped you onto your back with ease. Your chest was heaving and you tried to catch your breath.

“I think you’re wet enough for me now,” Taehyung smiled as he finally tugged off his underwear. 

You eagerly spread your legs open for him, signaling that you were ready. Taehyung relished the sight. He rubbed his cock along the folds of your pussy, hitting your clit with every stroke. You were oversensitive from your orgasm, which made you cry out each time he played with your clit.

“Are you ready, baby?” Taehyung teased your entrance with his tip.

“Please fuck me already. I can’t take your teasing any longer,” you begged.

Taehyung happily obliged. He took his time entering you, enjoying your drawn out moans. He let out a low groan when he finally bottomed out. He filled you up perfectly. He lingered in that position for a little too long. You had the silly idea of being cheeky.

“I guess you could say that I’m stuffed now,” you smirked.

“You haven’t felt anything yet,” Taehyung scoffed as he finally began to move.

His thrusts were powerful, allowing his dick to hit you in all the right places each time. Your moans were getting louder with every second. Your tied hands reached between your thighs, but Taehyung harshly grabbed your wrists.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” Taehyung admonished. 

As punishment, he pinned your tied up hands above your head as he began to pound into you mercilessly. You were lost in pure bliss when he did what you were trying to do earlier. He applied the perfect amount of pressure to your clit to make you go wild. Your body began to quiver again under him.

“Let’s finish together,” Taehyung panted. He was close. 

“Taehyung, I love you,” you made eye contact with him.

That sent him over the edge. The sincerity mixed with lust in your eyes was the final straw. He released his hot load into you as you also surrendered to your pleasure. 

“Now I would say that you’re stuffed,” Taehyung joked as he leaned over to kiss your forehead, “I love you too, ___. So much. More than you could ever fathom. In a way, you saved my life.”

“I did?” you were still out of it from your two intense orgasms.

“You did. But we can talk about that another day. I’ll get something to clean you up,” he chuckled. 

You were already asleep by the time he returned with a towel. He smiled to himself, wondering how you can go from sinfully seductive one second to downright adorable to the next. Taehyung happily cuddled up next to you and soon followed suit in slumber.

You had to return back to your house the next day. You stupidly forgot your laptop charger and Taehyung was whining because he wanted to watch Peaky Blinders. Taehyung dropped you off and waved cutely as you left the car. You promised that you’d watch the show with him the next day. 

The moment you stepped foot into your cottage you noticed something was off. The door gave way too easily, and the aura had changed. The once peaceful atmosphere of your safe haven had been replaced by an eerie stillness. It was akin to the silence before a major storm. 

You silently surveyed the immediate surroundings as you closed the door behind you. You knew you weren’t alone. Acting as if nothing was wrong, you casually walked to the bedroom. The intruder was watching you intently. 

You stretched nonchalantly, in hopes of luring the intruder out. It worked. A rustle of movement was heard behind you, allowing you to easily evade the attack. In a motion almost unseen to the human eye, you had your attacker pinned to the ground with a knife at their throat (it’s good practice to always keep a weapon on you in this profession). 

“I really thought I had you that time,” your attacker sighed.

“Jungkook? What the fuck are you doing here?” you angrily questioned, tilting his chin up with your blade. 

“I could ask the same thing,” he retorted, unfazed by the knife at his throat, “What the fuck have you been doing here for the past two months, ___?”

“I’m on a mission. Is that a problem?” you masked your alarm.

“It is if you refuse to kill your target. I’ve been tailing you for the past week. You’ve had so many chances to finish that thing off, yet here we are,” he replied smugly.

“Did Yoongi send you?”

“Who else?”

“Go back and tell him that I’m working on it.”

“You want me to lie?” Jungkook dramatically dropped his jaw.

That angered you, causing you to apply just enough pressure with the knife to break his skin. A line of blood trickled down the blade.

“Why did you choose to reveal yourself now?” you snarled.

“I got bored. Tracking you is boring. Watching you pretend to be in love with that thing is boring. I came to give you an ultimatum. Either you kill it, or I will. That thing killed your parents, ___. You have to remember that it’s a monster,” Jungook challenged you, “Guess little Miss Number One is finally slipping.”

“Fuck you. All those years of chasing after my ass finally getting to you? Second best isn’t such a bad thing.” you mocked.

“Fuck me? If you insist,” Jungkook winked, “You know, this position is kinda hot. You into knife play?”

“Shut up, Jungkook,” you say in disgust, finally releasing your hold on him.

You sit on the bed, watching Jungkook as he paced around your room. Processing his ultimatum had you in a trance. By now, you had no chance of killing Taehyung. You foolishly fell in love with him. 

However, you didn’t think Jungkook would be able to win in a fight against Taehyung. Jungkook is too brash, and Taehyung is too powerful despite his atypical behavior. Even if Taehyung killed Jungkook, that would only cause more problems. The VEC would be even more eager to exterminate him, and will probably send multiple teams in to do the job. Maybe you could convince Yoongi to call it off. Maybe, by some miracle, he would listen to you.

“___? ___? Yoohoo. If you’re gonna ignore me, you should at least stop staring at my dick,” Jungkook stood before you.

“Huh?” you were pulled out of your daze and looked up at him , “Oh. Don’t flatter yourself, Jungkook. I wouldn’t stare at your shrimp dick even if my life was on the line.”

“My Jungcock is the size of a jumbo shrimp, thanks for noticing,” Jungkook grinned.

“God, you’re so disgusting,” you rolled your eyes.

“And yet the vamp ladies can’t get enough of me. They’re willing to die for this dick,” Jungkook nodded.

“I don’t think they’re exactly willing, but sure. Do me a favor, go back to Yoongi and tell him that the job is done,” you say quietly.

“Oh? You’re gonna kill your lover boy?” Jungkook raised an eyebrow. 

“Duh. It’s my job. It’s just been hard to find an opening--”

“Bullshit. I told you, you’ve had numerous openings. You just refuse to take any of them for some reason. Don’t tell me that you’ve actually gotten attached to your target,” Jungkook said in disbelief.

You remained quiet, avoiding eye contact. There was no use in lying, Jungkook would see right through you.

“Holy shit, ___. You dumb bitch,” Jungkook laughed.

“I told you that I would handle it. Just go tell Yoongi that the job is done,” you pleaded.

“And get chewed out in your place? No thank you,” Jungkook sat beside you, “So, what happened?”

You tell him everything. Despite him being a dick, Jungkook was probably the closest thing you had to a friend. He was orphaned due to a vampire attack, so the VEC took him in. You’ve been rivals since you were kids. 

“Sounds like you might actually have real feelings for this thing,” Jungkook said after hearing you out.

“He’s not a thing, his name is Taehyung,” you admonished, “But yes, I think I actually am in love. I fucked up big time, Jungkook,” you exhaled in exasperation. 

“Feels bad man,” Jungkook shook his head, “Major F.”

“Ok thanks for your sympathy,” you huffed.

“You still have to kill him. You know that right?”

“I know. It’s just going to be really hard,” you fought back tears.

Jungkook watched you struggle to hold everything in. He pulled you in for a hug. You suddenly let it all out, crying into his chest. Everything came crashing down. You have to fulfill your mission. Even if you failed, the VEC would pursue Taehyung relentlessly. You owe it to him to give him a peaceful death. 

Your special poison. That’s how you’ll do it. Once he’s immobile, you’ll be able to behead him in one quick motion, making it virtually painless for him. But god, it’s gonna hurt like hell for you.

“Do it the next time you meet him. If you don’t, I’ll kill him myself,” Jungkook said after you finished crying. He said it in a tone that let you know that it’s not a threat, but rather a promise that he’ll back you up. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night. You tried to convince yourself that Taehyung was just a monster that charmed you to bend to his will. You tried to believe that he doesn’t actually love you. You tried to believe that everything was a lie. 

But you just couldn’t. 

You didn’t want to think about how tomorrow will be the last day you’d ever see him. It would be the last time he would ever hold you in his arms, the last time he’d gaze at you with his beautiful eyes, and the last time he would ever say that he loves you.

You drove to Taehyung’s house the next day, as promised. Taehyung waited for you in his usual spot on the fountain’s edge. His lips curled into a smile as soon as you drove in. God, you’d miss that smile.

He bounded over to you as you parked the car.

“Hello darling! Oh, are you alright?” Taehyung asked with a concerned look when he saw your puffy eyes, “Have you been crying?”

“I got emotional last night. It was stupid. Don’t worry about it,” you faked a smile. 

“It’s not stupid if you cried over it. What upset you?”

“The thought of losing you,” you answered honestly.

“Aw, that’s sweet. Don’t worry, my darling. You won’t be rid of me any time soon,” Taehyung pulls you into a tight embrace to reassure you.

“I hope not,” you quietly replied.

Published October 16, 2020. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2020 Baepsaesbae.

#bts smut #kim taehyung smut #taehyung smut #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #bangtanshadowfamily #ksmutclub #bts angst #kim taehyung angst #bts fanfic #kpop fanfic #taehyung videos #taehyung x reader #bts fluff #kim taehyung vampire #vampire bts #kim taehyung fluff

[jennycalendar]

my top ten calendiles fics (that i wrote)

this rec list took me a solid chunk of time to compile, because my fics are my babies and i honestly wanna throw quite a few of them up here. but EVENTUALLY i stopped being indecisive and finally managed to get this sorted, so here goes! if you wanna read some of my stuff, this is the stuff that i am the most proud of/in love with/would cry if someone asked me leading questions about it + drew me fanart of it. these are not ranked except for the top two, because the first one is my baby and the second one is still very beloved to me.

under the cut, because i have loving commentary!

1. as day follows night (multi-chapter)

Looking for a safe place to stay after her accidental murder of the Deputy Mayor, Faith Lehane allies herself with a mysteriously powerful witch—and stumbles into a fairytale mystery that's bigger than anything she could have anticipated.

(this fic is my goddamn baby. this fic is my C H I L D. this fic is the fic that i took extensive notes for and spent most of my freshman year of college thinking about and ended up as this terrifying love letter to fairy tales and jenny calendar and the complexity of the way she chooses to love people. i love this fic with every fiber of my being and always will.)

2. i still want to be your girl (multi-chapter)

Five years ago, Jenny Calendar ran from Sunnydale and didn't come back. Now, with the First threatening Sunnydale and the Slayer line, she's returned to help stop the apocalypse--but Rupert Giles isn't the man she remembers, and he isn't exactly delighted to have her back in his life again.

(i have a very persistent soft spot for later-seasons giles, but this was one of the few fics where i went “okay but what about battle-hardened jenny” and i’m very proud of the result. it was really fun to think about what might have changed about jenny over the course of five years, and now that i’m thinking about it, i might be really interested in writing a giles pov of this fic at some point? that’s totally a concept to come back to at some point. anyway.)

3. kind of like hydrogen peroxide

Here was the problem: Ripper had no idea how to talk to Jenny without somehow managing to make her want to kill him.

(i do NOT deserve rights if a fic from the ripper au doesn’t make its way onto this list, and this one is my very favorite. i love thinking about dumb teenage giles who pretends to be a rebel but is actually very very soft and very very in love with his equally dumb and genuinely rebellious girlfriend.)

4. spirit-touched

“Thank you, Buffy,” Giles said, “but I would prefer to conduct this research on my own. I’ll be looking into some rather…” He felt himself blushing, and resented it. “Some rather intimate details of ghost-human relations.”

“What does that—oh god, you want to figure out how to have sex with Ms. Calendar,” said Buffy.

(making this the first smutfic i posted was still the most cursed power move i have ever pulled off. anyway that influx of asks in 2016 about ghost jenny and human giles and their sex life inspired this and it ended up being SO funny and SO sweet and i am SO proud of it.)

5. very really married

Giles and Jenny's flights to Sunnydale both stop over in Las Vegas. On the same day. Naturally, a chance encounter leads to a drunken marriage, one that they mutually agree to keep up for appearances.

Which is to say: Giles is going to have to figure out how to hide his fake marriage from his new Slayer (and everyone else) while also hiding his new Slayer from his fake wife (and everyone else). And his complex feelings for Jenny aren't helping anything.

(EVEN NOW, THIS FIC MAKES ME GIGGLE TO THINK ABOUT. i am saving my reread of this particular gem for a rainy day, because it was my love letter to season one and my daydreamy fantasy re: what it would look like if giles and jenny had silly odd-couple energy that really just came from them being fake married and badly hiding it as they fall very deeply in love.)

6. days in goodness spent

This feeling—whatever Giles is feeling—this is bone-deep. He’s never felt it before. He’s been in love before, he’s admired someone before, he’s respected someone before, but this feels like all of those three things held together by something else he can’t quite name. He searches, desperately, for the words that will tell Jenny this, but nothing that has been written can describe the way it feels to be held by her right now.

(In which Rupert Giles gets the chance to fall in love all the way, and it changes him just a little.)

(this one didn’t immediately come to mind when i was drawing up the list, but my brief rereads led me to conclude that it is an underappreciated gem! i’ve written a lot of different takes on giles and jenny’s relationship, but i particularly love calling giles out for idealizing jenny. also i like that this is more abstract than some of my other older pieces, where i really get into the nuts and bolts of wanting to depict Every Single Part of giles and jenny’s relationship trajectory. this one has more fun with the flow of the story.)

7. no one else could heal my pain

“Friday,” Giles echoed.

“Yeah. As an overnight weekend trip to hunt down some books I need.” Ms. Calendar smiled playfully at him. “Isn’t that the kind of thing you’d do for fun anyway?”

(this one was SO recent and SO fun! it’s kind of my love letter to the standalone longfics i consumed voraciously when i was fourteen, because there are some really great older calendiles fics that are just long and winding adventure-y narratives about the two of them goofing off and falling in love. i wanted to echo that here a little bit and it was a delight to write.)

8. myosotis latifolia

Years and years ago, the truth would spill out, and Rupert—in his endless romanticism—would take her hands and tell her she only needed him by her side to feel welcome and loved. But it’s been over a decade since they’ve been that close, and those years have created a distance between them just as insurmountable as the distance between them, now, on the steps leading into his lavish gardens.

(Rupert Giles is an esteemed member of the Watchers' Council, as well as a happily married father. Jenny Calendar knows that that's never been what he wanted.)

(ahaha this one is a big ouch moment but i really love it regardless? i think that giles and jenny are kinda fundamentally incompatible in a lot of ways, and part of the intrigue of their relationship is watching them try and figure out how to compromise and adjust after years of being rigid and inflexible individuals -- giles intellectually, jenny emotionally. so this fic is a lot about that.)

9. the grieving process

After Buffy's death, Giles makes his way to Jenny in LA.

(i don’t know why this one still sticks with me! it just! does! it holds up and i love it and if you wanna read about giles and jenny falling in love in a way that is healthy and authentic without any secrets -- but also obviously very sad -- definitely pick this one up.)

10. decently clothed

“Jenny, are you selecting my wardrobe based solely on what is and isn’t easy to divest me of?”

“…no,” said Jenny.

“That’s not even remotely convincing.”

(i wrote this one during a particularly difficult time in my life, and it was a really special moment for me, because i’d just come out of a period where it had been difficult for me to find the time or emotional energy to write. whenever i return to it, this fic is suffused in that warm and hopeful joy i felt when i posted it and realized that i had not, in fact, lost my touch. so it’s always gonna mean the world to me.

plus it is very silly and sweet! my specialties.)

#fic #calendiles #so i stayed up till 3am for this. i do not deserve rights anymore

[deadmomjokes]

For me, part of being asexual means that I get really, REALLY grouchy about a lot of romance in media. Rather, the obsession with romance, sex, and sexuality in media. I am that person that will roll my eyes and turn off a movie if it looks like it’s turning into some steamy nonsense, and I will never willingly sit through a romcom even if you paid me. Sex scenes? I’m out. Passionate kissing? Peace, I’m going to the kitchen, want anything? Call me back when the actual story gets back on. Ridiculous ‘ooh they have such SEXUAL TENSION and chemistry, let’s see how close we can get to making them kiss and just have them breathe heavily in each others faces to get our audience all bothered’? I will end you all. I HATE when books or movies or shows throw in a romantic or sexy subplot just for the lols, at least what I perceive as the lols. Basically, a romance has to be really super duper well-crafted for me to get behind it and not be just utterly enraged or completely turned off from the story.

(Also please note that when I use the term romance in this context, I’m using it as a catch all for ship-based storylines that, due to our culture’s obsession with sex, usually include or hinge on sex or kissy scenes.)

That being said. When a romance is done well, and I mean really well, I absolutely 100% lose my mind. I feel that mess in my soul.

So with that introduction, allow me to lay out a few of my favorite (and, in some instances, most maddeningly painful) romances/canon ships in media.

(read more because I went off. like I said, I feel this way too deeply when it’s done well.)

Winry Rockbell and Edward Elric in FMA:B. Slow burn, mutual pining, mutual cluelessness, what’s not to love? So soft and tender and funny all at the same time, and the mad respect Ed has for Winry is absolutely delightful. She does her own thing, and he’s totally supportive, just as she is of him. And a happily ever after??? UGH, I can’t, it’s perfect. The most straightforward and least convoluted of my whole list, and it’s comparatively easy to breeze through. FMA:B is great anyhow, so do yourself a favor and go watch it.

Audrey Parker/ Nathan Wuornos in Haven (with major caveats). Caveats first: they went overboard with the sexy stuff in my opinion. It got too smutty for me, but my tolerance for that stuff is super low, and it did still air on TV, so evidently it wasn’t as bad for the target audience as it was for my sex-in-media-repulsed self. I also find the final seasons to get a bit stale and repetitive in terms of them trying to advance the love story narrative (all the plot points for it got addressed in earlier episodes/seasons, so why are we going over it again??). They also have a bit of an issue in some episodes with dragging out conflicts because the characters just won’t talk to each other like adults. But overall, taken as a whole, it hits hard. Again, we have a slow burn, mutual pining dynamic that starts as a genuine platonic friendship, and transforms into a dimension and time defying chosen soulmates love story for the ages. The things they would do to save each other, even if it means they can never be together, just so they have the joy of knowing that their beloved is okay. The tiny ways they take care of each other- Audrey testing Nathan’s coffee to see if it’s too hot, Nathan slowing down so he doesn’t out-pace her, it’s just adorable.

Faramir and Eowyn in The Lord of the Rings BOOKS. This is an interesting one because it happens really quickly and between two minor characters. But Tolkien did this really interesting thing where he established these two characters separately, and then brought them together and played off what we knew about each of them in context of everything else that had happened with the main story, and suddenly it has, as one of my professors would say, “the illusion of depth.” Faramir absolutely falls head over heels for Eowyn but won’t act until she can deal with her own crap and be emotionally available. Eowyn realizes that she was hung up on ideals, illusions, and false dichotomies. Faramir has been through a lot and is looking for peace. Eowyn is looking for who she really is when she realizes she has more than two choices in life. They find healing together, and in the process, find what they were looking for in each other. And all that happens in the space of, like, 4 pages. I LOVE IT.

Sam Carter and Jack O’Neill in Stargate SG1. This one will hurt you to no end. You will hate life. But gosh dang if they aren’t perfect. This is the slowest burn and most mutual pining of all slow burn mutual pining ships to ever grace media. I’m talking 8 seasons of these two sharing feelings but being unable to express it for one reason or another. What are those reasons, you ask? Jack is her superior and respects her too much to put her in that position. No fraternization on the team. Sam has career aspirations, he won’t ruin her life. He’s got his own issues to work through and knows he isn’t emotionally available. Sam is clueless for a while, then when she realizes she has feelings for him but it couldn’t be because of their work dynamic and because he’s still dealing with his own crap, she tries to move on but keeps coming back to the unspoken fact that she still loves him. To the point that she breaks off her own engagement to a great guy because she realizes she was only trying to move on-- and wasn’t successful. They are clearly in deep for each other, and yet they keep making excuses why they can’t say it.

In the whole series, they never officially get together, and I HATE THAT. There are multiple alternate realities and timelines where they are together, and happy, but in the main timeline, they can’t get over themselves, and it hurts so bad because they’re so perfect. Jack knows she’s the smartest person in the room, and he supports her and defends her and listens to and defers to her. He respects her first as an expert, then as a colleague, and then as a woman whom he deeply loves even though he can’t find it in him to love himself. She appreciates his experience and leadership, and trusts him implicitly. She knows she’s got more book smarts, but relies on his judgement and ability to remain calm under pressure. She also knows she can be real with him, and he knows that when she calls him on his BS he better listen. She is his conscience, and he is her backbone. And in between episodes where they’re clearly pining for each other, and even during, they’re really great friends and a great team. I could seriously write an essay on why this ship is both perfect and intensely frustrating, but then again, you could just watch a great and classic series and see what I mean for yourself. (Then you’d also get to meet the perfection that is Teal’c, and watch Daniel Jackson’s transition from Milo Thatch in Space to sassy beefcake demigod who still loves archaeology.)

Beren and Luthien, Tolkien part 2, electric boogaloo. A love so powerful it transcends death, fate, hell and heaven all at once. It’s kind of wild and not what you’d expect if you’ve only read LotR (or only seen the movies), because it’s more a classic fairy tale than anything, but hot dang if it isn’t still one of the most powerful, moving, deeply impactful love stories in all of writing. It’s even a “love at first sight” narrative and I STILL fall hard for it. This story legit moves me to tears every dang time I read it, or even think about it too hard.

It starts as a simple “forbidden love” story, but these two loved each other so much that they defied one of the most powerful kings in all the world at that time (who was also Luthien’s dad, oopsies), defied Satan himself and marched into Hell just for the chance to be together, and then changed the very way the world works forever just so they could stay together and not be parted. Luthien is a total BEAST, while never giving up her gentle, loving, and tender nature. For the love of this man, she defies her father’s wishes and breaks herself out of her own dang tower to go rescue her prince instead of the other way round, she sends Sauron (yeah, he’s here too!) scurrying with his tail between his legs, wrecks his house, and frees all his slaves and prisoners just to try and get to Beren, drags his butt out of heck part 1, then willingly walks into literal, actual Hell with him and proceeds to enchant Satan and all the demons within. Then she gets her bf outta there after he loses his hand, and goes back to face her father unafraid. Basically, Beren undertakes a literally impossible task just for the chance to be with Luthien, but Luthien is the one that makes it happen because she loves him too much to sit around knowing he’s going to die. She’s willing to die with him rather than live without him, but more willing to dare death to come at her and get some because ain’t no way she’s losing him.

Then, at the last, when all should have been their happily ever after, everything goes wrong and she loses her beloved, and instead of mourning forever, she yeets off her mortal coil out of pure “Oh no you didn’t, not after all we went through” just to go stand before the God of Fate and the Dead and plead with him to change the rules of the universe itself just so that she can be with Beren. And he does it, because their love is so strong. Just for them, all of existence is rewritten so that they might never be parted.

And if you don’t think that’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard, consider also: these two crazy kids were so wonderful that the Goodest Boy in all the world, a functionally immortal and super-intelligent dog sent from heaven itself by a literal god, willingly turned on all his masters and spontaneously learned intelligent speech just so he could help them out and be their Good Boy til the bitter end, thus (in Tolkien’s mythos) starting the whole “man’s best friend” thing with dogs. So yeah. And, uh, Tolkien based it on him and his wife, to the point of ripping their first meeting frame-for-frame from real life. It’s too much y’all.

Anyhow, this post is way, way too long, but I was just feeling the need to get that out there. Maybe I’ll have more in the future, but for now, this is what was on my mind. Particularly the last two.

#long post #romance #asexual #stargate sg1 #haven #fmab #tolkien #lotr

[spnwriter]

Maybe he doesn’t want to take the chance.

AN: there is a slight sexual theme to this one, it’s talked about but nothing graphic. just a warning. <3

I  should have known better. Hunters don't get the apple pie life. We don't get a happily ever after. Dating isn't something hunters get to do. I was only hunting part-time, trying to get out of the life but it's never easy. I grew up in it, my dad had me hunting as soon as I could hold a gun. After he died, I killed the werewolf that killed him. Unfortunately, the whole pack came after me so I didn't end up getting out. I slowly started to taper off how often I took cases. So I figured I'd try to date, have a semi-normal life...it wasn't working. I had been seeing this amazing guy, Mikey. I hadn't told him what I do on the side but, I have a feeling he'd take it well. Things were going swimmingly. I really thought that he could the reason I get out of the life. No such luck, I got home from a hunt and found a skinny little blonde on top of him. And just like that my happily ever after goes up in smoke. He said it was because I was never around. He had needs that I couldn't cater to so I broke his nose before getting in my car. I drove as fast and as far as I could before the tears started blinding my vision. I pull over on the side of the road allowing the sobs to take over my body. I actually thought he loved me. He said he did but then again, everybody lies. I just so happened to be on the other side of one this time. I suppose it's some kind of cosmic karma for lying as much as I do in the hunting life. I slam my hands against the steering wheel as anger fills my body. How dare he? We were together for a year tomorrow. I didn't hunt that often, in fact, I was hardly gone at all. Maybe a couple of days once a month. Dear God why me? Why can't I be happy? A sob wrecks through my body. I tried to hard. I tried to have a 'normal' life. I wanted that, why can't I have that? My thoughts drift, I wonder if it'd be uncalled for is I went back and shot him? I mean like in the knee or something...

. “Maybe a little.” a gruff voice says from behind me. 

  I jump turning around to stare into familiar ocean blue eyes. 

  “Cas! You scared the shit out of me!” I snap at the angle in my back seat as I wipe the tears from my eyes. 

  “My apologizes, I heard your prayer and wanted to check on you.” Cas explains looking at me through the rearview mirror.

“I didn't pray.” 

  “Not in the normal way no but I did hear you.” Cas sighs placing a hand on my shoulder before we arrive at the bunker. 

Sam and Dean are sat at the library table. They both look up at us when we appear in the room. 

  “What happened?” Sam asks standing quickly to rush over to me. He inspects my body for injuries, gently cupping my jaw in his hands as his eyes scan my body. I reach up grabbing his wrists. Sam and I had always been close. Since I met him the younger Winchester and I got along well. Alright, alright I may have a small (massive) crush on the tall hunter but who wouldn't? Sam is such a sweetheart, so caring and eyes on the eyes. I know he'd never like me back so I settle for being his friend. I'd rather have him in my life in a  platonic way than not at all. These three men around me have always been there for me. They're my family. This is where I had planned on going before Cas zapped me here. I knew this was the place I could get my head back on straight. Heal and not be judged for it. 

  “I'm not injured Sammy.” I whisper as his eyes soften at the notice of the dried tears on my face. 

  “Mike cheated on her.” Cas exclaims “She was in her car crying, she prayed.”

“Cas!” I sigh “Come on.” 

  Sam is quick to wrap his arms around me, holding me tight. He places a gentle kiss on my cheek before whispering “You deserve so much better. I'm sorry he did that you.” 

  “I'm going to kill him.” Dean exclaims loudly before grabbing his gun and walking towards me. 

  Sam lets me go as I say “Hey if anyone gets to shoot his ass it's me.”

Dean is quick to replace Sam. He wraps his arms around me. “I'm sorry Kid. I know you loved him.” Dean whispers kissing the side of my head before walking back to the table. The thing is, I didn't love him. I liked him but, I could never love him the way I love Sam. No one could ever hold a candle to the younger Winchester. I suppose that's why I was with Mikey in the first place, to get over him but, it didn't work. I just kept comparing them and I ended up getting heartbroken anyway.

Sam takes my hand in his, leading me to his room. He shuts the door behind us as I flop on his bed. He laughs lightly before taking the spot next to me. He turns his head towards me asking “Do you want to talk about it?” I frown looking at the ceiling. 

  “I'm starting to question my choice in men. I ended up being destroyed physically, emotionally and I don't understand. Love is supposed to heal you but it doesn't do that for me. I've been cheated on more times than I can count, I've been replaced with someone better, I was lied to by the person I love. He said he loved me. He didn't though. Love fucking destroyed me. In the end I'm left wondering if I'm good enough. Maybe I too blind to see the real me. What if the real me isn't good enough? Maybe love does heal but I'm just not good enough? Maybe I'm the reason he cheated and chose someone better, prettier, thinner. Maybe I'm the reason he didn't love me. Maybe it's me. Maybe it's all my fault.” I vent, allowing my insecurities to show. 

  “Y/N, look at me.” Sam says voice gentle

. I turn to face the hazel eyes I love so much. He frowns at me placing a hand on the side of my face. 

  “You are not the problem. It isn't your fault he cheated. You didn't do anything wrong. You are an amazing woman. You are a beautiful, kind strong woman. He just didn't see it. It's his fault, not yours.” Sam whispers. “As for him picking someone 'better' I don't think it's possible. Yeah, she may have been thinner than you but, that doesn't make her better than you.” “He said he did it because I was gone too much. He had needs that I couldn't meet...” I hesitate not wanting to voice what I was actually thinking about what Mikey had said. Yes, Sam and I were best friends and yeah we had talked about sex before but never alone. It's always been with Dean present. Mostly because he's the one who brings it up. I really don't want to have this conversation with him but at the same time, I really need to voice this stuff. I can't let it sit in my head and overwhelm me. 

  “Was he trying to imply that you didn't meet his needs...” Sam asks, confusion in his voice. 

  “I think so...I don't know I really didn't stick around to hear an explanation.” 

  “A  relationship isn't all about sex Y/N. If you weren't meeting his needs he should have talked to you about it not cheated on you. I mean if he got off he shouldn't have any complaints.” 

  “By that logic I should have been the one having complaints.” I joke, not thinking that I just admitted that Mikey never got me off in our entire almost year relationship. 

  “Wait, you're telling me he never got you off? “ Sam sits up suddenly causing me to follow his actions turning my body to face him. “Like ever?”

“Kind of an awkward conversation Sammy.” I blush

“No, no, you brought it up. I want to know.” 

  “If you really must know no he never did,” I admit.

“You guys were together for a year.” Sam utters, obviously trying to wrap his head around the new information he'd just been told. 

  “Believe me, I know.” 

  “Did he never go down on you or something?” Sam asks, unashamed of how personal of a question that was. 

  “Sam!” 

  “Come on, we've known each other forever. We can talk about sex. Especially when it's bashing you ex douche bag.” I give in, knowing I can't really say no to him. I sigh before bringing my legs to sit with them under me. 

  “Once and I didn't...you know so he figured I didn't like it...truth is it was awful.” 

  “So foreplay consisted of what?” Sam asks moving to sit against the headboard. 

  “Nothing really. Some dry humping, light fingering but only enough to make sure I was ready for the main event.” I shrug. 

  “You're kidding me right? Did you ever give him head as foreplay?”

“Yeah, all the time.”   

“And yet he wouldn't go down on you.” 

  “I don't know, the sex was never amazing.” I sigh 

  “Yeah sounds like it.” Sam huffs “So what? You had to finish yourself off?” 

  I nod “Usually after he'd gone to bed or in the shower.” 

  “So you haven't had an orgasm that wasn't given to yourself since you've been with that asshole?” 

  “Hum, I guess not.” I hadn't really thought of it like that to be honest. 

  “How did you survive?” 

  “A bit dramatic Sam but, I had toys to help. Was quite fond of my vibrator for quick but if I had the time...I dragged out the Bruce.” I admit, not knowing why I couldn't stop the word vomit coming out of my mouth. Sam's eyebrows shoot up as he observed me. 

  “And Bruce is?” Sam asks licking his lips. 

  “Oh that's my nine inch dildo.” Was I really about to talk about my toy collection with my best friend and secret crush? Guess I am.

  “And it was bigger than Mikey?” He asks eyes not leaving mine

“Oh yeah by a lot.” I don't look away from his eyes. What the hell is going on? 

“So he was small and bad in bed?” 

  I nod still not looking away from the hunter before me. Something in the air as we stay looking at each other. Something in his eyes I haven't seen when he looks at me. No one says anything as we just openly check out each other. 

  “So...why did you stay with him?” He asks, voice soft.

  “Honestly?” I pause finally breaking eye contact, eyes trained on my hands in my lap. “I was trying to get over a guy that'd never feel the same.” 

  “How do you know he'd never feel the same?” 

  I looking up  “I'm not good enough for him.” 

  “Maybe he thinks the same...and that's why he never showed any interest?” 

  “Why would he think that? He could have anyone he wants?” I ask understanding we're dancing around our feelings. 

  “Maybe the woman he wanted was with someone else and he thought he'd never get his chance.” 

  “Maybe the guy she was with messed up and he does get his chance after all.” “What if he's scared to take that chance?” I can see the hesitation in his features as he eyes me. I smile slowly crawling over to sit in front of him. 

  “Maybe he doesn't have to be the one to take the chance.” I smirk before climbing in his lap, legs on either side on his slim hips. His hands grasp my hips quickly. “

Y/N.” Sam starts looking down at me. 

“D-did did I read the situation wrong?” I ask suddenly insecure at my bold assumption that it was, in fact, me he was talking about. “Not at all...I just want to make sure that we are on the same page here.” The fear leaving my mind as I understand he wants us to be opened about our feelings rather than continuing to dance around them. “I'm in love with you. Have been since that salt and burn two years ago.” I smile “Dean was hurt and couldn't go with you, it was the first hunt we did just us.”

 Sam smiles “Yeah, I remember that hunt. I dragged it out so that I could spend more time with you, but when I realized I loved you is when you almost died on that werewolf hunt...If Cas wasn't there...” 

  “Don't think like that Sam. I'm alive.” He doesn't respond instead he presses his lip against mine. We both smile into the kiss before he pulls away resting his forehead on mine “I love you.” “I love you too.” 

  “Be mine?” 

  “I always was.”

#sam winchester imagine #supernatural imagine #spn imagine

[another-kakashi-blog]

Ataraxia - kakairu fic

Title: Ataraxia

WC: 3k+

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: kakairu

Summary: 

He opens his mouth and says words that make Iruka want to flip them over, want to drill Kakashi into the mattress, want to bite into his shoulder, dig his nails into the other man’s sides, mark him all over, touch him in ways no one else ever could. 

He says words that make Iruka want to prove him wrong. 

Notes: A gift fic for the lovely @aizawashovta Thanks for always being such an amazing friend. If you’re reading the notes here you’re missing out on my gushing in the notes on AO3 so go check that out. 

Read it on AO3 here

Ataraxia

It begins as warmth, something he’d grown accustomed to over the past few years, but something that never ceased to make his heart skip happily in his chest. The heat spreads, permeating his back, down his thighs, and a fire of his own making pooling low in his belly. 

A soft sigh whispers across the nape of his neck and he shivers at the cool air. 

Calloused, deft fingers trail along his stomach, lightly stroking down the valley between his hips, before gently ghosting over his quickly growing erection, one finger flicking over the slit in his head.

There’s another exhale, followed by a sharp inhale as the heat source’s hips grind into his ass. 

Iruka gasps as the fingers trailing along his length finally curl around it, giving him a few languid, lazy pumps. 

“You awake?” Kakashi breathes out heavily from behind him. 

Iruka laughs, before it cuts off into a stifled moan, as he bites his lower lip. Kakashi’s hand twists around his cock, going a little faster now, as the other man’s hips continuing dry humping the back of his legs. 

“Hard not to be,” Iruka says. He shifts onto his back, Kakashi’s limbs removing themselves just enough for Iruka to roll over before the touch starved jounin is sliding back against his side, throwing a thigh and leg across Iruka’s own, and a pale arm over his stomach. Kakashi briefly seems to toy with the idea of continuing his soft ministrations, dragging his pointer finger in a senseless pattern across Iruka’s chest, but that’s soon dismissed. 

Kakashi glances down at Iruka’s now full cock and then up at Iruka’s face and he sees the other man’s pupil is blown wide in the eye he doesn’t have shut. He licks his lips once and Iruka’s attention is redirected solely to how delicious and plump and perfect they look, even with the small cut in the corner still healing from a few recently removed stitches the jounin received on his last mission. 

You know, you and the medic might just be the only people who’ve ever seen my face and lived to tell the tale, Kakashi had joked. 

Iruka brings his hand to Kakashi’s face, cupping his cheek, dragging his thumb across the light pink mark. He wonders if it will scar, looking like a curved exclamation point with the beauty mark below it. He’s about to share his findings with Kakashi when the other man sucks his thumb into his mouth and successfully shuts down all of Iruka’s thoughts. 

Kakashi’s tongue works Iruka’s thumb as his hips begin grinding into Iruka’s thigh again. 

“ Fuck, Kakashi,” Iruka groans out.

The other man’s eyebrow raises, before he releases Iruka’s thumb, smirking. 

“Now that sounds like a plan,” he says. 

Kakashi’s hips stop moving and Iruka didn’t think he’d missing having a cock sliding up and down his side, but he really does. Kakashi’s hand wraps around Iruka’s wrist and he guides Iruka’s fingers back to his mouth. Kakashi begins liicking and sucking on each digit just as expertly as he had done numerous times on his knees, his mouth full of Iruka’s cock, in the living room, the bathroom, the kitchen, hell even the hall when they were desperate enough, when missions and classes were taking up far too much of their lives and if the few feet to the bedroom meant more time without the other it was too much to bear. 

Once satisfied, he brings Iruka’s hand behind himself and Iruka knows where Kakashi wants him,  needs him, but he was having plenty of fun watching Kakashi so desperately trying to get himself fucked. So he plays dumb, he wait to get his fingers in that delicious, tight heat until Kakashi insistently places his hand against his entrance. 

He can’t help the chuckle that slips out as Kakashi glares up at him when he doesn’t move his fingers. 

“What, do I have to do it myself?” Kakashi asks impatiently, and Iruka’s heart skips again. Kakashi was adorable like this. He was terribly impatient when it came to sex and more than a little pouty when he didn’t get his way, even when he requested Iruka take him down a few notches after weeks spent in charge on his longer, more emotionally taxing trips away from the village.

Iruka raises a brow in challenge, silently saying, maybe. 

“Ah, well, I’m still a little sleepy soooo,” he answers, teasingly. 

Kakashi’s eye narrows and his grip shifts from Iruka’s wrist to his hand, and Iruka can’t stop the surprised gasp as Kakashi pushes two of his slicked up fingers into his own hole. 

Kakashi’s eye shuts and his mouth pops open in a relieved, shuddering exhale. Iruka feels the other man’s muscles tighten and relax around him, before Kakashi’s grasp slips down to guide Iruka’s hand, pushing his fingers in and out slowly, Kakashi’s hips rolling down to meet him, fucking himself on Iruka’s fingers. 

He feels like his whole throat has dried up at the sight. 

“Y-you gotta be kidding,” Iruka stutters out. 

Kakashi shifts, rolling halfway onto Iruka, making sure to keep his hand firmly against his ass, still rocking onto Iruka’s fingers, as he lays across Iruka’s chest. Kakashi’s eye opens and now he’s the one with the shit eating grin, before he leans down to hungrily kiss Iruka’s lips. 

Iruka moans into the embrace, his hips jerking up as Kakashi’s thigh slides into the space between his. When they part, Kakashi gives him a little nip, right in the spot where the cut Iruka had been admiring earlier was. 

Kakashi’s hand moves, going for a third finger, but Iruka decides he’s done pretending he’s too lazy to participate. He gently slips in the third finger on his own, taking over the prep as he scissors and curls his fingers, brushing up against Kakashi’s walls in the way he knows the other man loves. The low whine that escapes the jounin is proof enough that he’s doing just as well as he usually does. 

The other man’s hot pants cover Iruka’s sweat dampened collar as he brushes the tips of his fingers up against that spot in Kakashi he was so very intimately in tuned to, and Kaksahi reacts just as sinfully as Iruka had hoped for. His pale forehead presses into Iruka’s skin as Kakashi curls further into him. One hand in Iruka’s hair grasps a handful of the sleep tangled strands and tugs reflexively, the other curled into a fist against Iruka’s ribs, looking for something to hold onto.

“A-ah!” Kakashi gasps as Iruka retracts his fingers, pulling fluidly out of his entrance, giving one of those plump, but solid cheeks a light smack that leaves Kakashi shuddering atop him. Iruka drags his hand up the other man’s lower back, trailing over his spine and shoulder blades lazily. 

Kakashi groans, not happy to return to the lethargic energy Iruka had been projecting when he’d first awoken to his boyfriend grinding against him. 

“What?” Iruka asks, teasing smile back in place. He brings his other hand up to poke at Kakashi’s beauty mark, earning him a narrowed eye and another grumble. 

“I’m still sleepy,” Iruka lies, he was anything but. “You want my cock that bad? Take it yourself.”

Kakashi’s eye widens for a moment, then his face sets in the same way it is when he accepts a duel from Gai he knows without a doubt he’ll win. 

“Oh? So you’re just  too tired  to do any work huh?” Kakashi asks, pushing himself up away from Iruka. He watches with interest as Kakashi shifts above him, throwing a leg around Iruka’s waist to straddle him. Kakashi’s hand returns to his cock, slowly, tantalizingly caressing the underside with just one finger. 

“I have to do it all myself, huh?” Kakashi asks, swirling his finger around Iruka’s head, and he can’t stop the moan that leaks out from Kakashi’s light touch. 

Abruptly, Kakashi’s hand wraps around him entirely, two quick pumps later and he’s moving his body, his lean, chiseled, somehow actually glowing in the way the light above their headboard is casting across his damp skin, body, to position himself over Iruka’s cock. 

“It’s okay, babe,” Kakashi says, his tone dark, hungry. His eye peers into Iruka’s and for one second he loses his breath. “Just  relax ,” he says, and Iruka feels the tip of his cock press up against Kakashi’s rim. 

Without a single pause, without blinking, without showing any reaction at all, Kakashi sinks down his shaft like he was born to take Iruka’s dick. When he bottom’s out, hand splayed across Iruka’s stomach, his muscles tightening around Iruka’s cock in a way that makes him want to do nothing more than thrust up into that remarkable heat, Kakashi stays absolutely still. 

He opens his mouth and says words that make Iruka want to flip them over, want to drill Kakashi into the mattress, want to bite into his shoulder, dig his nails into the other man’s sides, mark him all over, touch him in ways no one else ever could. He says words that make Iruka want to prove him wrong. 

“I do my best work solo.”

It’s only after rocking Iruka to his core with his voice alone that Kakashi feels the need to actually move, to take Iruka’s body down with his mind too. 

If Kakashi was one thing, it was extraordinary. In all aspects of his life, he went above and beyond, always, without fail. 

When he was out in the field, never allowing the mission or his comrades to be in jeopardy, never choosing one or the other. 

When he was training his students, finding new ways to advance Naruto’s skills in remarkably short periods of time. 

When he was surprising Iruka for his birthday, with a moonlight walk across the bridge they’d shared their first kiss on, a bundle of gorgeous white lilies placed in the exact spot where Kakashi had pressed Iruka’s back into the railing. Then, a trail of petals leading to the training grounds where a sparring session had turned rather heated. A teleportation jutsu to Kakashi’s apartment, where a rather meager amount of boxes lined the floor, his bookshelves and windowsill bare, the only thing still made up being his bed, with a dusting of lilly petals across the covers. 

I left some on the new bigger mattress I got three jounin to help me wedge through your apartment door too if you’d rather break that in, or-

Iruka hadn’t let him finish, pushing Kakashi onto his old mattress for the last time, avoiding the metal spring that had snapped who knew how many years ago in the lower left corner. He’d been dropping less than subtle hints that they should move in together for the last year and a half and Kakashi had dodge them all with the same accurate precision he did kunai. 

It was the best gift he’d ever received. 

This, though, watching Kakashi’s hips as they gyrated above him, grinding down onto his cock, Kakashi’s thighs trembling against his sides as his walls tighten around Iruka, trying to take him deeper, always, this was making its way to second place.  Kakashi’s head tilts back, his silver hair falling away from his face, but some strands still stuck to his forehead from the sweat. His mouth hangs open as he pants and moans openly in the safety of their bedroom. His fingers twitch against Iruka’s stomach, looking for purchase.

Iruka decides he’s done playing the receiver. 

He wants to give as good as he got. 

Iruka’s hands move from where they’d settled against Kakashi’s thighs up to the other man’s hips, letting them follow Kakashi’s movements for a bit, the rise and fall as he thrusts up and down on Iruka’s cock. 

When Kakashi falters for a moment, his back arching, one of his hands flying back to brace himself on Iruka’s leg, Iruka knows it’s time. 

He slides his hands up farther, then around Kakashi’s back, pulling him forward, and the other man comes willingly, lying atop Iruka’s flushed chest while still grinding onto his dick. His movements are slower with the new position and Iruka rolls them onto their sides, gripping Kakashi’s thigh and pulling his leg up over Iruka’s hip to allow him better access. 

Then, bringing his other hand to the back of Kakashi’s head, pulling him in close, staring at his one grey eye, pupil blown out, sweat dripping down his forehead, Iruka begins moving in earnest, thrusting into Kakashi’s hole with vigor. Kakashi cries out, his head jerking back, but stopped by Iruka’s hand. His eye closes instead, a long moan escaping through his lips as Iruka continues his new relentless pace, taking control, all semblance of sleep completely washed away. Kakashi’s arms tangle around his shoulders, his nails digging into Iruka’s upper back as the other man holds on tight, his ankle hooked around Iruka’s hips pressing into him just as hard. 

Kakashi follows each thrust, chasing after it every time Iruka pulls back. He’s needy and desperate and clinging onto Iruka’s body like it’s all that’s keeping him here and Iruka is soaking it all up. He’s cherishing each scratch of Kakashi’s nail, each brush of their chests sliding together, each hot breath shared between them, the tremble in Kakashi’s legs and hips as he nears his climax. 

It’s all Iruka ever wanted. 

He pulls Kakashi’s head closer gently, the other man’s eye popping open to look at him, no questions, only answers. He immediately leans in, capturing Iruka’s lips in his. 

Anyone who thought Kakashi wasn’t capable of love was a fool, a deprived fool. 

There wasn’t a cell in Kakashi’s body that didn’t thrive off of it, didn’t hum to the tune of it, didn’t exist on a frequency made exclusively of it. 

Iruka slips a hand between them, wrapping it around Kakashi’s neglected cock, sandwiched between their stomachs. He begins slowly pumping it, thumbing over the precum slicked head, feeling his own orgasm building low in his belly with each thrust. 

The way Kakashi has been tensing and jerking into Iruka’s body meant he was close, each pound of Iruka’s cock meeting Kakashi’s sweet spot. 

When Kakashi pulls away from the kiss, one of his hands unlatching from Iruka’s back to tangle lightly in his hair instead, he catches his breath just long enough to whisper on an exhale, “I love you.”

It’s easy, the most simple thing Iruka does every single day. 

It’s uncomplicated, in every way. 

It’s true, honest, unquestionable. It’s something he feels in his gut, in his heart, in his head. He feels it in the way Kakashi’s smile flickers onto his face each morning when Iruka opens his eyes for the first time, in the way Kakashi brings him back his favorite tea every time he returns from a mission in the land of waves, in the way Kakashi wraps his arms around his stomach, burying his face into Iruka’s shoulders, letting all the burdens of his past seep out of his body. 

“I love you too,” he’d said it hundreds of times now, but it never felt any less, any different from the very first. 

He thrusts into Kakashi again and he knows it will only be a few more before he’s finished so he tugs Kakashi closer, hands splayed across that pale, scarred back, finding the long crisscrossed one to the left of the dip in his spine. He never asked about it, but always found it in moments like this, always pressed his fingertips into the too-smooth, jutsu-healed skin. He didn’t know what it was from, but it felt grounding somehow, as if each pass of his hand was proof Kakashi was still here despite it all, still his. 

No one else could make Kakashi bite into their shoulder like he was doing to Iruka right now. 

No one else could make him bury his head into the side of their neck. 

No one else could have him arching back, the heel of his foot digging into the small of their back, as his body tightened around their cock. 

No one else could make Kakashi feel this good, make him scream out their name as he came, could make him continue to ride their cock as his body began to grow slack, ever courteous, ever the selfless man he’d always be. 

The sight of Kakashi’s blissed out face is enough to make any person come, and looking back, Iruka would like to think it’s what made him finish too. Truth be told, it probably had more to do with Kakashi’s eye opening post-orgasm to stare into Iruka’s eyes, his breath still coming out in little gasps, but finding enough air somewhere to say one simple phrase. 

“C’mon, Ruka. Fill me up.”

Iruka does just that. 

Moaning out a curse, digging his hand into that scar, hips spasming, he rides out his orgasm, pulsing deep inside Kakashi’s spent hole. When he’s done, giving a few small, tired thrusts to finish off, he doesn’t bother moving just yet, knowing Kakashi and he shared a desire for post-coital cuddles. He relaxes his hand against the other man’s back, letting his fingers trace circles in his skin instead. Kakashi mumbles softly, something indistinguishable, and shifts closer, tucking his head beneath Iruka’s chin. 

He gives a small chuckle, his breath moving a few strands of silver hair as he does. 

After a few long minutes of being wrapped in Kakashi’s long limbs, he feels restless, ready to shower and get started with his day. He rubs his hand up and down Kakashi’s back more insistently, says, “What do you want for breakfast?”

He’s met with silence. 

Iruka’s eyebrow quirks and he leans his head back, suddenly feeling that Kakashi’s breaths are perhaps a bit  too even and steady. 

He manages to peel an arm out of Kakashi’s embrace, and brushes the jounin’s hair away from his face. 

Asleep, he’s asleep, eyes shut, lips parted just a bit, face completely and utterly relaxed. There’s still a light flush to his cheeks, but he’s completely at peace. 

Iruka’s eyebrow twitches. 

With my cock in his ass. 

He’d never pulled out and with the way Kakashi has him ensnared, he’s not going to anytime soon. 

“Mahhhh, Kashi!” Iruka whines. “You woke me up and now you’re back asleep!?” 

Kakashi nuzzles in closer to his chest, a low, content sigh coming from the sleeping man. 

There’s a different kind of warmth spreading over Iruka now. It wouldn’t be the first time they drifted off like this, and knowing Kakashi, he’d wake up ready for round two soon enough. 

This particular position, though, was a first. 

Iruka shifts his hips, earning himself a small gasp still dripping with pleasure from Kakashi. 

He may not be able to go start breakfast, but he was plenty ready for the next meal whenever the other man stirred awake. 

#kakairu #kakashi #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #iruka #kakairu fanfic #my fanfiction

[twdmusicboxmystery]

10x11: Morning Star - Details

Okay, let’s talk details. I’ll go chronologically.

***As always, spoilers abound below for 10x11. Don’t read until you’ve watched!***

The very first thing we see in the episode is Beta collecting tree sap. They dig into the trees and collect the sap into these little…things. They kinda look like animal bladders to me, but I have no idea if that’s what they actually are.

It’s this tree sap that they use to start things on fire during the battle. My first thought on seeing this was of Tyreese. Back in S4, Carol put tree sap on his arm and it helped heal him. I think it’s got anti-fungal properties and that’s why, but still. It’s a healing agent. And I even want to read into the fact that they had Lizzie and Mica find it. Only because of the parallels/anti-parallels between them and Beth. I think we could argue that a Beth proxy found the cure for Tyreese. And I honestly don’t remember another time we’ve seen the tree sap symbol used. It’s not very often that they use it.

So then I googled to see if tree sap is really flammable, and it is. I found this: 

Also, if you’ve read @frangipanilove​’s tree trunk posts (I’ll repost them later in the week) you know how important tree trunks are in general.

But here’s the thing that REALLY jumped out at me. Once it hits—and EVERYONE gets drenched with it—Jerry smells it and literally says the line, “It smells like a Christmas tree.” Cuz, you know, pine sap.

So we have an agent of healing, that BURNS, a Christmas tree reference, and it’s used as a weapon. 

That’s like fourteen rabbit holes all rolled into one.

Okay, let’s switch gears to Eugene. 

There’s a clock behind Eugene that seems to read 1:33. 

So me and @wdway​ and @frangipanilove​ all discussed what this might mean. First of all, this is definitely a Slabtown clock. What I mean is, this simple, white, plain wall clock with regular numbers (vs. roman numerals or no numbers at all) isn’t seen very often. The biggest time it was seen was with Beth, when she woke up at Slabtown. The only other time we could think of where we saw this particular kind of clock was in 7x08 when Daryl escaped the Sanctuary, which was also super important.

My brilliant friends came up with a few possibilities of how we could interpret this. We looked at it point to S1 ep3, S3 ep3, series number 33 and series number 133. For me, I lean toward the 1:00 hour pointing to S1, but I had to figure out the right way to interpret the minutes, because S1 only had 6 episodes. So I think you’d have to divide the hour by only 6 episodes. And assuming that’s the case, the clock is almost exactly half way through the hour, which would suggest ep 3. And what happened in 1x03? Rick reunited with Lori and Carl. So we’re looking at a symbol of reunion. More than that, they believed Rick was dead. He got left behind by them. Um…in Atlanta? So we’re also talking about a resurrection theme.

Then @wdway started talking about the clock in Still. Remember that Beth and Daryl passed the grandfather clock in the golf club. The first time, it said 2:52. When they passed it again, it struck 3, which means 8 minutes had passed. I interpret that as 8 years passing before Beth returns and they “reunite.” But @wdway made the very good point that all the 3s we see around Beth could well be pointing toward reunions, just as Rick had the original reunion with his family in 1x03.

So then I re-watched the episode and I noticed something else.

When Rosita comes upstairs looking for Eugene and ends up answering Stephanie on the radio, it doesn’t focus on the clock like it does on the first, 1:33 clock, but we do see the clock again very briefly in the background and it says 2:00, so roughly half an hour has passed. So that reminded me of the passage of time in Still. And while it’s not a 3:00 clock, it is drawing closer to 3:00, right? But there’s something else I thought of, too.

When I first thought of the 1:33 clock pointing toward 1x03 my first thinking was a little flawed. I didn’t immediately think of Rick’s reunion with Lori. I thought of the fact that that’s when Daryl first came into the show. And I sort of leapt from that to it being a Bethyl thing. Then I had to stand back and go, “wait. That doesn’t hold up because Beth didn’t show up until S2. Okay, never mind.” But of course the Rick/reunion explanation works very well.

But now looky, looky. We have a 1:33 clock (Daryl debuts in 1x03) and a 2:00 clock (Beth debuts in 2x02.) Just saying.

I think those are the biggest things I noticed on re-watching. Here are some more minor ones:

In this pic, Zeke is totally in a crucifixion pose, and then they talk about “dying tonight,” which is at least partly a sex reference, but I won’t get into that. He’s sort of taking a martyr pose here, and I think this is yet another way they’re pointing at his looming death fake out. I have no idea how it will come about, but I think they could be setting it up with this battle. I’ll come back to that.

Zeke gave Henry’s armor to Lydia, which is a lot like Carol giving Daryl Beth’s knife after she did. Something of hers that he fights with.

I also noticed Eugene made a Waterloo reference, which is a famous battle.  I was thinking they might use it as a template for this battle. I looked it up and nothing huge jumped out at me, but I don’t think we got far enough into this battle to know for sure either way, so no sense in getting too excited about it yet. 

I’m going to address a Caryl theory. I really don’t go into the tags myself, but others do and send me things to get my take on them. So, this is a detail I totally missed, and I actually think it’s a stellar observation. In this scene, there are 8 windows behind Daryl and Carol, and the 7th one has a light on in it.  A light in the darkness is definitely a Beth thing, right?

Well, the shippers are actually counting this as 16 windows because there’s a top and bottom pane. Which means the light is on in the 14th “window.” They’re interpreting that as ep 14 being the one in which Daryl and Carol will finally hook up and live happily ever after. (Please give me a minute to control my laughter.)

But as I said, I do think it’s a good observation. Maybe it does point to something happening in ep 14, but it won’t be Daryl and Carol hooking up. If we count the ACTUAL number of windows (8), that’s the number of years it’s been since Coda. And having the light on in the 7th window actually supports biblical Christian symbolism. 7 is the number of perfection and therefore the number of Christ.

And as I said, I don’t mind the “episode 14” possibility. It just won’t be a Daryl/Carol romance thing. I think the only way to save Carol at this point is if Zeke lives, and I think he will. So what does that mean? Maybe in 14, he’ll go to the hospital and discover that he can be saved. Something like that.

But the thing is, I think there’s a good possibility Beth will be involved in that, too. 

Predictions:

So here’s the thing, guys. I now we’ve come up with a million ways in which Beth might return. I know I’ve campaigned for it being through the Michonne/Virgil story line. And it might still be. There’s no way to know for certain. But I have a really good feeling about this Eugene story line as well. I mean, they’ll be going to a hospital. One that filmed at the same location as Grady. And there are other clues I’ve mentioned above and yesterday: the fact that Charleston is at the crossing of two rivers. The fact that there’s water involved at all. The fact that we see a clock representing reunions, and then time passes. The fact that Eugene “loses” Stephanie for a short time after Rosita gets on the radio and then finds her again by singing to her. (Remember Daryl’s “I Never” line about never singing out in public.)

So I could see this playing out like, Zeke, Eugene, and Jerry go to the hospital and Beth is there and Zeke also learns that he either doesn’t have cancer or else that it can be treated fairly easily through their radiation. I also think he (and possibly Jerry with him) will get a death fake out in there somewhere. But Beth’s return would “save” both Daryl and Carol emotionally. Remember my post about the clock in Edwards’ office. Because Beth saved Carol at Grady, I think her arrival will save Carol in some way here as well, though it will probably be emotional/psychological, rather than physical. I’m just saying I can see this story line leading to that. Will it? That remains to be seen.

Also, I mentioned yesterday that this is a replay of 4b, in which everyone will scatter and end up in small groups, right? Well, that’s been pretty much confirmed by one of the sneak peeks, in which Aaron and Luke (who is injured) are out in the woods together and run into Negan, who doesn’t seem to be with the Whisperers right then, either.

And I think this thing with all of them running around in the woods could easily lead to Zeke’s death fake out, or else to Negan saving Judith in some way, which was foreshadowed in 9x16.

I also talked yesterday about the Glenn theme, right? Let me say a few words about that, and then I’ll stop for the day.

I was re-watching the scene in 5x10 where Maggie opens the trunk and sees the Beth walker. I was actually looking for something else entirely, but it struck me in a way it never has before, and in a way it couldn’t have before this season.

Maggie opens the trunk, then gets freaked out and shuts it. But the walker is pounding on the inside so she goes back to kill it, but of course it gets stuck. Glenn comes to help her. He’s the one who opens the trunk and kills the walker and then leaves the trunk open. Kind of like this? 

 But 2 things about that jumped out at me. Maggie left…and then returned. How many times have I said that Lauren’s absence from the show, no matter what they try to infer about her contract, has been long planned? I think this represents that Maggie would leave for a short time and then return before she truly understands what happened to Beth (i.e. that she lived).

But it also strikes me that Glenn being the one to open the trunk for her is important. Now, I’m not saying Glenn is secretly alive and we’ll see him again in the show (unless it’s a flashback) but I think he’ll be important somehow in helping Maggie understand the truth. I don’t know how that would manifest in the show, but I was thinking about that, and then in this episode, the camera focused on Glenn’s portrait, and Daryl starred at Glenn’s grave, and we know Maggie is returning in 10b.

See what I mean? So I don’t know what this all means in terms of events in the show, but I’ll be keeping an eye on it.

Also, if you haven’t, watch THIS deleted scene from 10x11. It has major shades of Still in it. See if you can spot them. ;D

I’ll stop there for today. Thoughts?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

[buddiebeginz]

So there’s this article that’s going around bashing the Reylo fandom as a response to Katie McCort’s article on ‘Systemic Hatred of Women’. Normally I would link back to whatever it is I’m referencing so people can draw their own conclusions but I refuse to post the link to the first article mostly because it’s just a nicely worded hate piece against Reylo and our fandom and it doesn’t need more attention from me. I’m sure you can find it if you look around the antis are sharing it. I’m still going to respond to some of it though because it’s a lot of the same things I see going around about our fandom and I want to address some of them.

There is this misconception that the Reylo fandom is almost exclusively made up of cis gendered, straight, white women and that’s just not true. We’re an incredibly diverse community made of various races, sexualities, genders, ages, etc. It’s clear that it’s easier for people who dislike us and the ship to dismiss us by saying well they’re all just a bunch of white women who want to ship the two main white presenting characters. They also mostly assume we’re teenagers so that’s another way they get to patronize us by acting like we’re simply a bunch of children who can’t make good choices even when it comes to which fictional characters to ship.

To that effect I think because many dismiss us all as a small (but loud) fraction of white women in the SW fandom it makes it easier to say we’re all racist. We as a fandom need to stop allowing this. This idea that our fandom as a whole is racist is false and in many cases is being used mainly as a weapon against us not to call out real instances of racism. People who don’t like us and our ship have just decided it’s okay to blanket our whole fandom as toxic and racist without real proof to back it up. Even those times when there have been people claiming to ship Reylo sending harassment and being racist they don’t represent our fandom. There’s a different between the actions of single individuals and an entire fandom using their collective power to hurt people and the Reylo fandom has never done that.

I also resent the idea that it’s our responsibility to find these people and deal with them. Is it important to call out problematic behavior when you see it? Of course. But we are not responsible for babysitting every corner of the internet looking for someone who has a Reylo icon and possibility sent out a racial slur. I’m genuinely confused why this responsibility falls on the shoulders of Reylo shippers to police our entire fandom but not on the SW fandom as a whole to do something about the many many problematic people calling themselves SW fans and sending hate. I don’t see people calling all SW fans racist because some chased Kelly Marie Tran off social media. I don’t see people calling all SW fans misogynistic with the amount of disparaging things that’s been said about Rey as a character and with how many didn’t even want a female protagonist for the ST. Or how TLJ was one of the most criticized in large part because it was more inclusive to female fans.

No apparently those are just trolls who don’t represent real SW fans. So why then does that logic not apply to the Reylo fandom? Maybe perhaps because it’s easier to try and get rid of a ship that the general SW fandom hates and silence it’s fandom by claiming it’s one of the worst things a person can be. Who is really going to want to be associated  with a ship or fandom if they think it’s racist right? I’ve seen new SW fans coming on tumblr asking about Reylo and the antis are quick to jump to them and tell them how toxic and racist it is (not to mention they claim it glorifies abuse against women which 🤦) filling these people’s heads with lies. I don’t care what people think of me I’m used to shipping the ships that everyone hates but I do care that people lie about us and our ship and don’t even give people the chance to make up their own minds.

As for the situation with JB which was also included in the anti Reylo article it’s clear the person who wrote this has a huge bias. Anyone who cares how people are treated would look at that situation and recognize JB was out of line, his actions caused real world harm to people. NO ONE is saying JB hasn’t been the target of racism from SW fans but to put ALL of that on the Reylo fandom is not only messed up it’s simply factually wrong. There are people who would never ship Reylo and who never wanted a leading black character in SW who have sent JB hate. The Reylo fandom just continues to be the easy target.

There’s a part of the article that talks about how some of the people who ship Reylo do so as a way to work through trauma in a fantasy that’s not possible in reality. They also say that one of the reasons people ship Reylo is about kink and bsdm which maybe these things play a factor (for some) but it’s not necessarily the main one. In the first place yeah Reylo is a fantasy not possible in reality it’s a soap opera in space. I recognize there are things that happen within their relationship that wouldn’t happen in real relationships but there’s also a lot about their ship that’s very much grounded in reality, which is a significant part of the reason people are drawn to them.

I’ve been through trauma myself and media has definitely helped with healing but I don’t look at Reylo as some fictional manifestation of reclaiming power that was stolen from me. I don’t look at Ben as some de facto stand in for my abuser and Reylo as some fairytale version of how things should have been. I don’t see Rey as someone who managed to get her “abuser” to change and then they lived happily ever after. I see two messy people who helped each other grow and change throughout the course of three movies. If anything I think Reylo helps me because I relate a lot to Ben. He’s shown me that it is possible to break free from the darkness and as person who has struggled with mental health problems my whole life it’s an incredibly important message. Rey and Ben together showed me it is possible to find someone who can understand you no matter what you’ve been through and no matter how alone you feel.

As for incorporating kink into Reylo many of us definitely do enjoy the smuttier side of fandom but I know for me that wouldn’t matter if I wasn’t emotionally invested in the ship. I think some assume the main reason we ship Reylo is because Adam is hot or Rey and Ben together is hot and it’s all simplified to being about sex but for the majority of us the ship is about so much more than that. I’m drawn to Ben and Rey because of the complexities of their stories both together and individuality. There’s this idea now that liking a character who does anything with questionable morals means you’re a bad person but I personally have never been drawn to the innocent characters. Both Rey and Ben are more grey not fully good or evil and I love that about them. More importantly I’m drawn to how much it’s clear they love each. Even in TFA they understood each other in ways no one else could because of their bond.

I feel like in order to get Reylo and especially Ben as a character you have to be willing to think deeper about the media you consume and some people only want surface level SW. On the surface it’s just bad guy Kylo Ren vs Rey but there is so much more going on than that if you look. I think people forget that fictional media is open for interpretation. Scenes like where Ben tells Rey “you’re nothing, but not to me” is one people have twisted to mean something manipulative when I don’t see it that way at all. To me Ben was trying to tell her he sees her. He sees that she came from nothing that she has no one like him (because he’s felt so abandoned by his family for so long) but she’s not nothing, to him she’s everything you can tell in how he literally begs her to stay with him. This is isn’t some example of me deliberately twisting facts to suit my narrative of what I want the characters to be this is simply that I see the scene differently than some one else might. I don’t get what’s wrong with that?

I know this got long and kind of rambly I just needed to vent. I just wish the hate would stop. If you don’t like Reylo don’t ship it. Learn to live and let live. Nothing we are doing is hurting anyone. We are shipping two adult characters because we see something positive here. I don’t get how something that’s about love something that brought so many people together can inspire such hate in others.

#reylo #sw! #(if you really want to read the article message me and i'll give you the url) #rbfan

[dokidoki-tae]

Surviving

So I wrote some HCs about La Squadra surviving their injuries. I apologize for any inaccuracies.  I did my best in looking into some medical stuff for them especially Melone ugh But I didn’t dive deep into it. So here you go. Ya BOYS surviving their fights.

Risotto:

What the fuck was he doing in Sardinia AND he was in the hospital? How serious was this? He never went to the hospital no matter the injury. This was serious and he wanted you to stay home? Was he insane? You wanted to fly over there, but Risotto himself had spoken to you after being MIA for THREE MONTHS and told you to stay put. You were used to his long missions, having waited a similar period of time. You had argued with him, insisting you go to him. If he was contacting you, that means he wasn’t on the mission anymore. “I’ll be let go soon and back to you. I’m sorry for worrying you.” You felt like he just squeezed your heart. Risotto, as long as you’ve known him, as never apologized for worrying you, only for keeping you waiting. Your voice cracked when you told him to hurry back.

When he walked through your door, he looked normal, you wondered if he was really hospitalized. Then you got a closer look and saw the scars on his face and looked down at the rest of his body. Those look like bullet holes. As if he read your mind, he explained what happened though omitting some information. You couldn’t keep yourself from looking especially after he removed his cap and saw that his head had been shaved as they performed surgery there. He should still be in the hospital, you thought. “You don’t have to worry. I can take care of myself from here.” He read your mind again. 

You were scared to sleep, afraid something would happen to him during the night. What if he went into shock or something? You also were afraid to sleep next to him in case you pressed on one of his wounds. He was still sensitive in those places.

It wasn’t until the next day you noticed that something happened to his foot, and at closer inspection, you realized it had been sliced clean off and reattached from the looks of it. Before you could ask him, he told you it was fine, and he still had feeling in it and it was not infected. You were exasperated and emotionally exhausted because you still didn’t know in full detail on what happened, and he wouldn’t tell you. You learned to accept it.

Every night you made love, you kissed all the bullet scars on his body, making him shiver. If anything “good” came to this, it was the fact that getting Risotto to shiver and tremble was easier now than ever before. Giving extra attention - kissing, sucking, licking- to his scars got him coming faster than you did when clenching around him.

Risotto still liked to show off his strength by carrying you and fucking you standing, showing that his injuries will never prevent him from holding back on making sure you feel good.

Prosciutto:

When you enter his hospital room and see him in his battered state, you throw yourself at his side, wailing and calling his name between your sobs. He had been there for several weeks, taking so long to contact you because Prosciutto was unwilling to reveal formation about himself. He relented and revealed you as his emergency contact. 

You stayed by his side, encouraging him to talk, but he only stared blankly at the ceiling and refusing to look at you. You’d think he was in a vegetative state, but he would paw at his now amputated legs. He had lost both his legs and one of his arms. You nearly fainted when you were told the state he was found. It’s a miracle he survived. 

He rarely spoke a word to you while in the hospital. The only times he spoke to you was when he asked you to leave when the nurses were going to bathe him. When you offered your help, he barked at you, calling you names and to leave him alone. It broke your heart, but you tried not to let it get to you. 

When he was ready to go home, you made sure your house was equipped for him now, scheduling for things to be changed and renovated for him his disability. He was pissed when you told him, but he held his tongue. He knew you had his best interest at heart

He was scheduled to get physical therapy and prosthetics, and he didn’t want you there either. It had come to light, he was embarrassed for you to see him in such a pathetic state as he struggled to get used to his new limbs. 

It took him a while to get back into sex. He couldn’t get hard; he couldn’t stand you looking at his body, but patience and open communication are key here. For a while, Prosciutto had to have the lights off, liners on, and sometimes a blindfold. After some time, he began to be confident again by the way he ordered you to touch yourself with a growl. You happily and enthusiastically did as you were told. 

He eventually learned to rely on you and not be so reluctant to ask for help. He asks you to come to his physical therapy, to bathe with him, to help him with putting on his prosthetics. At some point, you take massage therapy classes to properly massage his stumps.

Pesci:

You were scared and angry after being notified of his hospitalization. Prosciutto had promised you that he’d look after him and make sure nothing happened, and now he was in the hospital. You wanted to yell at Prosciutto, but considering he didn’t inform you and was with Pesci at the time, you concluded something serious happened to Prosciutto as well.

Both men were hospitalized in the same place, running into Prosciutto’s significant other in the same place, looking disheveled and tired. They told you that Pesci was alright. “Both are alive.” And that’s what mattered. You were shown his room and gasped when you saw his entire body covered. His face had stitches all across it; you could tell the cuts were deep. You wouldn’t be surprised if it reached his skull. He also had a brace around his neck, knowing it was because it was broken when they found him. Your stomach was uneasy but that didn’t stop you from kissing his uninjured cheek. 

You noticed the change in his demeanor when he woke up; his eyes looked a lot colder and meaner than the man you first knew. His eyes softened when he saw you there by his side until he finally broke down into tears himself, repeatedly telling you he was sorry. 

His body was slowly healing, but they had not been able to save all of his limps, replantation had not been successful in all areas. Pesci looked dejected but your support was enough to get him to be a little more positive. The ones that did take, it would be a while before Pesci would have full control over them again and was given information about a therapist. 

While he was in the hospital and in your company, he was more animated than when he was finally released. You had distracted him from his failure on the mission and his failure to Prosciutto. You couldn’t always be there for him, so he was often left with his own thoughts. 

You encourage his hobbies again and make sure they keep him mobile because you don’t want his replanted limbs to go stiff. 

Having sex again isn’t difficult, Pesci feels a bit insecure but when you tell him his scars are sexy. He feels confident. Even with his stump, he doesn’t feel any uglier especially when you give it special attention. 

Formaggio:

When you entered and saw him unconscious on that hospital bed, you passed out immediately. Your heart couldn’t take seeing him like that. His injuries only happened recently, and you were told he might be in this state for a while. When he finally woke up and saw you, he gave you a weak smile. Even now, he was still trying to be suave. But the pain was too much to handle, and he passed out again when the nurses rushed to his room. 

After some time, he would remain awake and hold a conversation. He didn’t tell you what happened and would change the subject. 

You watched the way the nurses looked after his injuries. You felt like throwing up whenever you saw them remove his bandages and see his burnt flesh. They were bad. Your stomach was most uneasy because of the thought of some maniac did this to your beloved and was running around free in Italy.  He did like to make jokes, “you did say you found scars sexy.” But you can see in his eyes that he was worried you’d find him grotesque. “You’ll always be handsome and sexy to me, Formaggio,” you’d tell him sincerely. He’d look away, trying to hide the tears threatening to escape. 

Formaggio had many treatments for his burn injuries because they varied throughout his body. From skin grafts to antibiotics ointments, moisturizers. The first couple of months were painful, and Formaggio was short-tempered and hostile mostly from the pain and frustration. He calms down when you dress his wounds and put ointments on him after the skin grafts. It’s his favorite time to flirt. 

Once his wounds are closed and he’s out of the hospital, you’ll have to help him take care of himself or else he’s going to get frustrated, leave them alone and die of a serious infection. Moisturizing can be very intimate; he’s usually watching you intently when you rub it on him.

Despite his injuries healing, he feels insecure when you look at him. He acts like he isn’t bothered when he feels people looking at him since his injuries still left scars, but he’s paranoid and once lashed out and yelled for people to stop looking at him in a public space. 

Body worship is important before having sex. Just like Prosciutto, he had a hard time staying erected and beat himself up for it, so you have to take control and give attention to his body, reminding him that he’s still sexy as ever. Usually, he’s more turned on when you’re putting moisturizer on him. He’s developed a kind of pavlovian response when you bring out the moisturizer, he gets an erection.

Illuso:

You nearly drove yourself insane trying to find this man. He went on a mission and disappeared for months. You thought he had died until you got a random text message from him telling you he was alive. You wept the whole day, thanking whatever almighty being was listening.

For a while, you only communicated through texting, often asking him when he was coming home which he always ignored. He did nothing but add to your anxiety. Why wasn’t he answering your question? The one question you wanted to know? He responded too quickly for any thoughts of cheating to cross your mind. When you opened up about your worry, Illuso revealed he was gravely injured and didn’t know if going back was a good idea. He managed to get medical attention as quickly as possible but the damage had been done. 

You didn’t care about that, and you did what you could to reassure him. Ultimately, it was his decision and you’d wait for him as long as it took him. Giving him space allowed him to feel more comfortable and be closer to you. You found this out when you found notes and gifts from him throughout your home. He was in the mirrors, but you weren’t going to push and force him out. Every morning, you’d go around your home and place a kiss on your mirrors in case he was watching. 

Coming home at the end of the day, you’d find he was in your home, and the thought eased your heart, knowing he was taking care of himself by eating. 

You left notes for him in the mirror and at times, you sat in front of your mirror in your bedroom and masturbated, hoping he was doing the same on the other end (he was). You couldn’t be physically intimate, but you wanted for both of you to have fun. Eventually, it did take a toll on you because he was reluctant to show himself despite knowing he was there. He was so close yet so far. After crying one night in front of the mirror, asking him to hold you, you went to bed and felt him crawl in with you.

He asked you not to look at him, so you were content to have his arms around your midsection. You reached for his hands and felt your heart jump when you looked and saw one hand covered in blisters, the skin gummy, and he was missing the other ones. He felt you tremble as you cried, attempting to pull him closer. You pulled him to have him wrap his arms tighter around you, refusing to let him go. 

He didn’t leave you the next morning, but he hid his face from you, asking if you could buy some medical face mask for him. You obliged him and went to the store and quickly came back. He locked himself in the bathroom and asked you to step away. You waited in the living room when he came to join you on the couch.

The face mask didn’t hide the severity of his injury. You couldn't tell what he was hiding, but you knew it was bad. You wanted to take him in your arms and hold him. “Lulu...” You moved closer and lay your head on his chest, and he held you tight. He apologized for worrying you but he thought it was best considering his state.

It took a very long time before he showed you what was under his mask. It took all your strength not to look away. It looked like his entire face had melted off and pasted back on. His lips sagged and you could see the side of his teeth. You went from feeling sick to furious. What disgusting fucker did this to the love of your life? You took his face into your hands and kissed him, reassuring him that he was still the one you loved.

His entire body was similar to his face, it was covered in blisters and swollen and felt gummy. He said during his time away, he was in the hospital and very little could be done due to lack of information on what caused it. That didn’t stop you from taking him to bed. He wondered if you found him disgusting, but you didn’t hesitate to take him as he was. 

You were going to look into plastic surgery and look into it for him, to see if that’s what he wanted to be confident again. 

Melone:

You stood and listened to the list of long-term effects Melone will have to deal with due to the snake venom. You felt cold when they told you that he would be dealing with a lot of health issues. Your first thought was, “why was there a venomous snake in Rome?” You broke down, nurses doing their best to comfort you. 

You go back to his hospital room and gently caressed his face in his sleeping state. You thanked God that he wasn’t comatose too. You don’t know what would happen to your mental state if he was. 

Melone did his best to act per usual, but he slowly deflated as the day progressed. He wanted to see you and speak to you, but the venom left him completely blind in one eye and partial in the other. His tongue suffered from necrosis, so speaking to you was near impossible for now. He tried to speak but after not understanding him for the 5th time, he gave up. He could tell you were blaming yourself for not being to comprehend what he was trying to say.

Melone also suffered from paralysis on the left side of his face, though you were told it wouldn’t always be like that.

Before he was released, they warned that Melone had a high chance of chronic kidney disease and to make sure to check in with your local hospital in Naples, so he gets the proper treatment if symptoms appear in the next couple of months. 

Melone’s envenoming also manifested through flaccid paralysis (loose or floppy limbs) that initially involves extraocular (muscles that control eye movement) and facial muscles, gradually descending to bulbar, neck, respiratory and limb muscles. He risked going into cardiac arrest as well. Knowing all this gave you an anxiety attack when you got home and Melone was finally asleep. You couldn't sleep, knowing everything he was going through. What if you lost him?

He had to go to monthly hospital visits to make sure he didn’t die due to these effects. You couldn’t always accompany him due to work. You also attended therapy together to get through this time. Melone didn’t like that the therapist tried to talk to him about his childhood trauma from being sexually abused though. 

Talking with him wasn’t as difficult, as he had a speech therapist, and it was easier to understand even though he couldn't pronounce or enunciate some words. It was enough to be with him and hold his hand. He did open up about hating not being able to see you like he used to.

You were hesitant to have sex, having to get confirmation that it was alright as long as it wasn’t too strenuous or rough on him. Melone wasn’t able to see you, but at least he could feel you. Your moans were still music to his ears and his moans and gasps were music to yours. 

Ghiaccio:

You flew to Venezia after getting a call from a hospital there, telling you that you were the emergency contact for the man currently admitted. You immediately bought tickets from Naples  You couldn’t keep yourself from breaking down as you whenever your mind began to wander. As long as you’ve known him, he was never hospitalized before. You tried to think good thoughts, sometimes laughing when you thought of Ghiaccio reacting to saying “Venice” instead of “Venezia” like he would rant about at times. But you only broke down harder.

At the hospital, you were prepared to expect the worst and the staff informed you of his injury and to be prepared.

You felt your world shattered when you saw him so vulnerable and small in his hospital bed. His face was swollen and he had bandages and had tubes in his neck to help support him and his breathing. Taking deep breaths, you kept yourself from sobbing when you took a seat next to him. When he woke up sometime later, he couldn’t speak, having had a surgical tracheotomy and speaking was near impossible. You teared up as you were hoping to hear his yells. 

Ghiaccio looked dejected when he was told he would have the tracheal stoma permanently due to the severe damage around the larynx, and he needed to use it for breathing at night. He is given a speech therapist to help him learn how to talk with the new device. The air in the room drops a couple of degrees but your support is enough to calm him down. 

It’s difficult seeing Ghiaccio so dejected as you’re both told of the ways to look after his device such as cleaning and how to reduce chances of infections. You can tell he wants to let loose and scream something, but his injury prevents him from doing so. He felt so helpless for the first time of his life. It was as if he was being further humiliated for surviving and now has to live like this.

Finally home, he doesn’t fight you when you looked after him, though he does push you away at times. He’s reluctant to go to speech therapy, but you convince him after several weeks go by when he didn’t get to talk to you.

Sex can be difficult for him because he feels embarrassed when you give his neck attention because at times he ends up coughing or breathing on your face while you kiss his neck. Over time, he gets over it the more you give him a positive reaction. He doesn’t yell like he used to but he flips the bird more time than you care to count. Despite taking speech therapy, and being able to talk, he learns sign language since he can communicate faster and tell you how he feels with passion.

#jojo hcs #risotto nero #prosciutto #pesci #formaggio #illuso #melone #ghiaccio #my writing #jjba #la squadra

[iamvegorott]

Trickshot but they take care of the septics like parents. Like 5 times they helped the others and 1 time they get comforted at one point. I know your busy and take your time. Can I be tagged in Undercover Love?

Still A Dad

I still yearn for the old days, to a degree. I would never replace what I have, but I’ll always miss seeing my angels as much as I want. Now, I have a new family to take care of, with children who are more careless than the ones whose age don’t even have double digits

“Are you sure you don’t remember where you last had it?” Marvin asked JJ as Chase was on his knees in front of the couch, hand under and searching.

“Anti take my monocule run,” JJ explained, trying to put the blame away from himself.

“You’re a fucking liar!” Anti shouted from the top of the stairs, currently grounded from the first floor till the monocle could be found. “I gave it back, you’re just too prideful to admit you lost it.” JJ signed a few choice words at Anti and Marvin just sighed while shaking his head.

“Ah-ha!” Chase cheered out when he felt his hand touch something smooth. “I knew it.” He chuckled when he took his hand out, holding the missing monocle.

“How many times have I told you to keep it on your chain?” Marvin huffed while Chase used his shirt to clean the eyepiece.

“Broke.” JJ’s face made it clear that he was telling a really bad lie.

“You sit on a throne of lies!” Anti shouted, jumping on the top step.

“Antisepticeye.” Marvin scolded, getting Anti to sit back down in a pout.

“If it really did break, I’ll give it a look and make sure it stays.” Chase offered with a smile that said he knew JJ was lying as well.

“Fine, fine.” JJ silently laughed with an embarrassed face and stepped away.

“Can I come downstairs?” Anti asked.

“Yes, you can come downstairs.” Chase chuckled.

Sadly, with my new children being actual adults, there was no time for me to learn how to handle certain feelings that come with being old enough to count beyond how many fingers one has.

“Have you tried asking him?” Marvin suggested to Anti, who was hiding in a pile of blankets and pillows on his bed.

“I can‘t do that!” Anti’s head popped out of the pile, cheeks a bright red. “Do you want me to die!?”

“You’re not going to die if you ask Dark on a date,” Chase said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You don’t know that. I could explode on the spot.” Anti protested.

“Because that’s what happened when I asked Marvin out.” Chase raised a brow at Anti.

“I’m not human like you,” Anti mumbled, hiding under the pile again.

“You can’t run from your feelings,” Marvin stated.

“I sure as hell can try.” Anti’s said, voice muffled.

“This definitely answers everyone question of if he just wanted to have sex with Dark.” Chase grinned when Anti popped right back out of the pile.

“This is a lot more serious and complicated than a simple fuck,” Anti said. “I know when I’m horny and this feeling I get when I’m around him isn’t that.”

“And what would that be?” Marvin asked.

“My stomach like, doesn’t hurt, it like tickles when I’m near him. My face gets all red and I’m like overly happy when he just barely brushes his hand against mine and I just want to hold it and his face looks nice and he’s all suave and handsome and charming and…” Anti let out a yelp and curled up under the pile once more like a frightened kitten.

“Someone’s in love~” Chase sang.

“Shut up!” Anti shouted.

“He wants to hold his hand~” Marvin joined in.

“I’m going to die!”

“I feel like we should let him know.” Chase tapped at his chin.

“Know what?” Anti asked.

“I’m not so sure.” Marvin hummed.

“Know what?” Anti asked again, peeking his head out from the end of the pile.

“I don’t think he can handle it.” Chase had to bite his cheek to stop his laughter when Anti had his upper half come out from under the pile.

“I can handle it.” Anti said.

“Maybe we should let him figure it out on his own.” Marvin suggested, chewing on his own lip when Anti was out of the pile completely.

“What is it?” Anti demanded.

“Dark likes your face too.” Chase winked and he and Marvin broke out in loud laughter when Anti squeaked and his face went bright red.

“R-Really?” Anti asked.

“Ask and find-” Chase stopped himself when he saw Anti glitched away.

“That was easier than I thought it would be.” Marvin admitted.

While those problems can usually be taken care of with just some words, it gets complicated when words can emotionally heal but not physically.

“I don’t need it.” Henrik protested as he moved Chase’s hand away from him, the spoonful of medicine almost spilling.

“You do need it, you sound like a dying horse.” Chase stated, putting the medicine right back in front of the sick doctor.

“I have work to do.” Henrik said.

“You have a cold, you can’t get anything done when you can’t breathe for more than a minute without losing a lung.” Chase hummed when Henrik was going to protest again but a coughing fit cut him off.

“Okay, maybe I’m a little sick.” Henrik finally admitted.

“Whatever gets you to take this.” Chase moved the spoon closer to Henrik’s mouth and was happy when the man allowed Chase to put it in.

“That tastes like death.” Henrik grimaced.

“Welcome to being on the other end of it.” Chase chuckled.

“Where are the bandaids?” Marvin asked as he came into the room, Jackie in tow and holding a paper towel to his finger.

“What did he do?” Chase asked, placing a hand on Henrik’s chest to make him stay down, knowing he’ll try to get up and help.

“He was trying to help JJ cook and forgot how to use a knife.” Marvin huffed.

“Anti distracted me.” Jackie protested.

“Would all of you stop blaming Anti for everything?” Chase sighed.

“He actually did this time.” Marvin shrugged.

“Bandaids are in the desk, top left drawer.” Henrik said, tapping on Chase’s hand to get him to move it, but the man didn’t.

“How bad is it?” Chase asked.

“Just a nick, but it’s in the crease so it won’t stop bleeding since Jackie can’t stay still.” Marvin said as he went to the desk.

“I didn’t get any blood on the food.” Jackie said with a shy smile.

“Good job.” Chase enjoying the proud look on Jackie’s face when he said that.

“At least it’s nothing too bad.” Marvin said, now going back to Jackie as he unwrapped the bandaid. “Our doctor is out for the count.”

“I’m not dead.” Henrik grumbled.

“I think I can still hear his voice sometimes.” Marvin teased a little and bandaged Jackie up.

“Thanks!” Jackie chirped and took off.

“How’s Henrik?” Marvin asked.

“Still dead.” Chase laughed while Henrik just grumbled some more

With most of them being so old, they really don’t need me for simple tasks. I don’t need to hold their hand to cross the street or tuck them in at night, but one of them still needs me like that

“Chay?” Robbie’s soft voice came from the bedroom door. Chase was at the desk, looking over some paperwork the Ipliers sent over for him to sign as the unofficial ‘head’ of the Septiceyes and Marvin was on the bed reading.

“What is it, buddy?” Chase asked, letting Robbie know he could come in.

“Patches can’t see.” Robbie held up a little stuffed raccoon.

“I’ll get the jar.” Marvin rolled out of bed and went over to their dresser.

“Were you playing rough with Patches?” Chase asked as took the stuffed animal, giving it a quick look over.

“I didn’t mean to.” Robbie was rubbing the toes of one foot into the ground. “He wanted to fly, so I let him and he hit the wall.”

“Looks like I didn’t sew the last eye in that well.” Chase chuckled as Marvin came over with a jar filled with buttons. “Want to pick out a new eye?” Robbie excitedly nodded his head.

“Are we giving him the same size or different?” Marvin asked as Robbie went through the jar.

“Big like yours.” Robbie said to Marvin, not seeing the look he and Chase shared a look as their hearts both warmed. “This one!” Robbie happily gave Chase a very large button that barely fit into the area where the raccoon’s eye would be.

“Do you want me to show you how to sew a button?” Chase asked, his little sewing it already out and opened.

“Yeah!” Robbie bounced up on the desk and leaned towards Chase, eyes on Patches.

“Do not let him touch the needle.” Marvin warned as he returned the jar to the dresser.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Chase chuckled and started sewing, Robbie watching him like a hawk and absorbing every movement he did.  

While I do love caring for them, helping them and just being with them in general. I do have to admit that at times it can be draining.

Chase and Marvin sat together on the couch, leaning against each other and fast asleep, having been too tired to get up and make it to their beds for a quick afternoon nap. Chase had an arm around Marvin and had him in a protective hug and Marvin was just curled up against Chase’s side, head nuzzled in the crook of his neck.

It was only three o’clock but the two were exhausted since the day had more chaotic than most. Robbie lost Patches, JJ has a bad cough, Henrik and Jackie have been arguing all day over something they don’t even remember anymore and Anti was being…well, Anti.

“I think three will be plenty.” A voice whispered, a hint of a glitch in it.

“Okay.” A younger sounding voice responded.

“Me and JJ finished, hopefully, it’ll still be warm when they wake.” An accented voice commented.

“If not we can heat it up.” A final voice stated.

“They’re stirring!” The first voice whispered with urgency. “Go, go, go!”

“Huh?” Chase blinked his eyes open and smiled brightly when he saw that he and Marvin were covered in blankets and there were freshly baked cookies on a plate next to him.

But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Wanna help me and give me some support?

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[fic-for-fic-sake]

Hopeless?

Tags: @lokixme @amor67figment-love @scarlettfandomempress @thatweirdwalangpake @crazylittlewitch @harleykittykat @bluegirlusa1 Links to parts one, two, and three.  

NSFW Warning, Loki x reader

Part Four: 

She took a deep breath and calmed her thoughts. She took her glass of wine and sat at the counter. She was aware that Loki’s eyes were on her the entire time, watching her like a hawk. She also became aware of her lack of attire, adorned only in her black satin robe. Loki walked and sat down opposite of her, almost studying her. Neither one ready to break the silence, they sat there for a moment, until it became unbearable. 

“How are you back here?” Y/N questioned him. “I thought you died.” 

“I did” Loki simply stated. “I thought I died when I sacrificed myself for my brother, but then I wasn’t dead. I hid myself as my father until I was ready to be found. But what do you care? It seems I was right.” Loki finished as he looked at her. 

“Right about what?” She questioned him. 

“I knew Captain Rogers fancied you. I’m just shocked that you allowed him to bed you.” Loki replied harshly. He was hurt but he wouldn’t let her know. 

“Loki you left me. I still don’t know what to believe. There are two versions of you that I know. I know the version who healed me and said I had the heart of a warrior, but I also know the version that killed hundreds of people for selfish gain. The monster who attacked New York. Who hates the human race.” Y/N responded still confused but mad that Loki would speak to her like that. She wouldn’t let herself get walked over. 

“So is that what you think of me? That I’m a monster?” Loki whispered, his eyes piercing into hers. 

“I don’t know what to think!” Y/N shouted suddenly angry. “I meet you and you’re harsh and cruel and unforgiving. But later you’re kind and sweet but then you don’t return. I’m left with the stories that everyone tells me. How you hate humans and almost destroyed New York.” 

Y/N stood up and began to rinse her glass out in the sink. She could feel herself being worn out by this conversation and after the emotionally draining conversation she had with Steve earlier she didn’t think she could take more. She could feel the hot tears start to burn her eyes and she tried her best to blink them away. She honestly didn’t know what to think of Loki. Was he kind, or was he cruel? Should she tell him how much he had consumed her thoughts in the past five years? 

Wordlessly, Loki stood up and placed his glass next to the sink. Y/N turned around to see him only a small distance away from her. 

“See darling, that’s where you’re wrong.” Loki mused quietly as he began to walk towards her. He continued until her back hit the countertop. He leaned over her dominantly and caged her in place with his arms. “I don’t hate all humans, how could I?” Loki questioned as he began to place a strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture made her breath hitch and Loki smiled darkly, loving the reaction he got out of her. “I don’t hate you dove. How could I? When you’re just so captivating. Have you any idea how many times I’ve thought about you since that day I left? How angry I was at your fellow teammates, at your precious Steve Rogers, for putting you in a position in which you couldn’t possibly win.” He spoke softly as he hooked his finger under her chin to get her to look him in the eyes. His harsh green eyes locked with hers and she lost it.

She couldn’t believe the admission she had just heard. Had he really spent all that time thinking about her? Her mouth went dry and she wasn’t able to find words. All she seemed to be able to do was wrap her arms around his neck, and kiss him, hard. 

Loki’s mouth accepted hers as he hungrily kissed her back. After all this time thinking about her he wasn’t about to lose her, not again. His arms wrapped around her waist as he pressed his body against hers completely. Their bodies molded together perfectly and a delicious fire began to eat away at them, from the inside out. 

Y/N threaded her hands through Loki’s thick, black hair. She loved the feeling of it between her fingers and she gently tugged it, eliciting a moan from Loki’s mouth that she happily swallowed. 

Loki’s lips left hers as they began to travel the length of her jawline until they reached her ear. He nibbled the tip of her ear and smirked at the moan she let out. Breathlessly he breathed into her ear, a command. 

“Jump” was all he said, his command coming quietly but unyielding. 

Y/N was in a daze, drunk on lust and wonder and obliged without a second thought. She wrapped her legs around Loki’s torso as she brought her lips down to his once more. She moaned as she felt his arms snake their way across her midsection and then his hands splayed across her back. 

Without breaking the searing kiss, Loki had transported them back to his temporary chamber. Before Y/N could register what was happening Loki had her form pressed between his body and a wall. She could feel his clothed erection grinding against her bare core. She gasped for breath as Loki sucked a spot at the junction of her neck and her collar. 

“Fuck Loki” She breathed as she grabbed a fistful of his hair and threw her head back giving him better access to her throat. 

“I love hearing you mewl for me pet. I wonder how loud you’ll get before you wake everyone.” Loki mused as he brought a hand down between their two bodies and roughly pinched her swollen clit. Y/N yelped in pleasure as she felt her hips thrust towards Loki’s hand on their own accord. 

Loki roughly pushed two fingers inside of her aching pussy and she moaned at the sensation. Loki’s hands were as cold as ice and the temperature difference was enough to make her see stars. 

“That’s it pet.” Loki husked as he pumped his fingers inside of her at an unrelenting pace. “So aroused for me are you? Tell me, have you ever fantasized about this? Touched yourself and imagined I was the one doing it? Hm?” 

Something about the way Loki made her feel made her mind cloud over with lust. This was nothing she was used to. Sex with Steve was gentle and giving, but not this. Loki was rough and teasing, using his words as much as his ministrations to push her over the edge. 

“Yes.” She breathed as a response. She dug her hands roughly into Loki’s shoulders as he continued to work her soaked core with his fingers. Just as she could feel her walls start to flutter around his fingers and her orgasm build up, he removed his fingers from her and placed her back on the floor. 

“Bed. Now.” He rasped in a tone that promised swift punishment if she disobeyed. The thought of that sent a delicious shiver through her whole body, turning her on more than she thought possible. 

“Or what?” She replied defiantly. 

“Don’t test me pet. I’ve waited too long for this moment. Make me wait any longer and only one of us with be satisfied with the outcome.” Loki smiled mischievously in a manner that suggested he would get what he wanted either way. 

 Driven by lust Y/N walked over to the bed and barely had time to lay down before Loki’s body was on top of hers, pushing her body further up the mattress with his own. 

“Don’t come unless I say so, understand?” Loki demanded as he captured Y/N’s lips with his own in a heat searing kiss. A kiss that promised a release of five years of build up, if she were willing to comply. 

It was impossible for Y/N to think let alone reply as Loki lifted her right leg to wrap around his hip so he could easily position his member at the entrance to her core. She could feel his tip teasing her folds, pushing in ever so slightly just to leave again. Making her hips thrust up to try and meet him. But he was faster than she was. In a second he used one of his hands to pin her hips to the bed and he pulled away from her mouth, taking her lower lip harshly between his teeth. 

“Do. You. Understand?” He questioned again, Lust dripping through every one of his words. Y/N looked up into his eyes to see the lust blown pupils surrounded by only a thin ring of emerald. She felt her body shiver in anticipation. 

“Yes.” She replied breathlessly as she wanted for Loki to take her. 

With that admission Loki harshly thrust into her, giving Y/N no time to adjust to his size or movement. His cock was long and slender, and her walls quivered around him trying to adjust to his size. She moaned his name as her nails dug into his shoulders and her hips met his with each snap. 

“So wet for me Y/N. You feel so good for me dove.” Loki cooed as he continued to thrust into her harshly. She wrapped her other leg around his waist to give him better access and she moaned at the result. He was hitting her g-spot directly which made her throw back her head in passion. 

“Fuck Loki, right there.” She screamed as he pinned both of her arms above her head with his hands and drove into her deeper still. She could feel her release coming and as hard as she tried to hold it back Loki could feel it too. 

“I’m gonna come.” She panted as her hips snapped up to meet Loki’s with each unrelenting thrust. 

“Not yet.” He growled into her mouth as he took one of his hands and lowered it between their two bodies. He found her bundle of nerves and began to rub it harshly as she cried out in ecstacy below him. He felt her pussy throb around him and knew she wouldn’t last much longer. 

“Come for me Y/N. Let everyone know who’s making you feel this good.” He breathed into her ear as he continued to pound into her. With his command she felt her orgasm begin to rip through her. She screamed his name over and over as she saw stars. She felt Loki fuck her through her aftershocks as he chased his own high. A few moments later he was praising her name as he came inside of her. 

After a few moments they untangled their limbs and Y/N stood up and began to put her robe back on. 

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” Loki questioned from his position in bed, nude body seeming to glow in the darkness. 

“Going back to my room.” Y/N responded as she tied the satin material around herself and began to walk towards the door. 

“Why is that?” 

“Because I need to sleep?” Y/N replied, slightly confused. She also needed to get back to Steve before he realized she was gone but she didn’t think she should tell that to Loki. Something told her he wouldn’t respond well to knowing that Captain America was asleep naked in her bed. 

“Sleep here.” He replied and she suddenly felt him at her back. His erection already creeping back to life and pressing hard against her backside. 

“I can’t.” 

“Worried a certain Captain will wonder where you’ve gone off to?” Loki said with a trace of malice laced in his voice. 

“How did you know about that?” Y/N whipped around in response, coming face to face with Loki’s harsh gaze. He was studying her the way a hunter studies prey, calculating his next move carefully. 

“I’m the god of mischief and lies Y/N. Surely your SHIELD training told you that. You can’t possibly still think Steve Rogers is right for you. Not after what just happened between us.” Loki stated as he caged Y/N between his arms. He leaned over her in a deliciously domineering manner. “From the first time we met I told you that you craved subjugation.” Loki went on as he brought his thumb over to ghost against her lips. Parting them slightly. “You can’t tell me that, that mortal has managed to make you feel as good as I do. That he can possibly know your body and your needs like me.” Loki whispered as he continued to part her lips with the soft pad of his thumb. He was studying her, seeing how she would react to his words and his actions. 

Y/N could feel her heart rate pick up once again. The sheer thought of what Loki would do to her was overwhelming her mind and body. She felt herself respond to his expert touch, felt her tongue sweep out and meet his thumb. He smirked proudly as he pushed the soft flesh into her mouth and she wrapped her pert lips around the appendage and sucked. She enjoyed seeing his eyes widen as she lazily swirled her tongue around his thumb and he tested her as he pushed it further into her soft mouth slightly triggering her gag reflex. Before either one of them could take it any further there was a harsh knock at the door. 

“Brother.” Thor sounded from the other side of the door. Y/N’s eyes went wide as she tried to remove herself from the situation but Loki’s smirk just grew wider. He brought a finger up to his lips silently shushing her as he pulled his thumb out of her mouth. He pulled it into his own for a few seconds before letting it go with a harsh pop. 

“What is it Thor?” Loki replied, annoyance heavily present in his tone. He gently pushed a stray hair behind Y/N’s ear as he waited for his brother’s response. He enjoyed seeing her like this. So worried that someone would find out their little secret. That the only thing standing between them and discovery was a thin panel of wood. 

“Valkyrie and I require your assistance, we’re selecting a place for New Asgard today and need your input.” 

“Can’t it wait?” Loki questioned back, not wanting to give up Y/N just yet. 

“Do not try my patience Loki.” Thor’s voice grated from the other side of the door. 

“Fine, I’ll meet you in five, but this better be good.” Loki replied as he peeled himself away from Y/N’s tantalizing form. He took a quick look over her body. The way her skin was slightly flushed from their recent fucking and how her hair was all over the place. Her robe was slightly more open than it should be, revealing that delicious bit of skin in the valley of her breasts. 

“Until next time pet.” Loki said with a wink before he opened a portal back to her room and escorted her through it. She barely had time to think before she was sitting back on her bed, Steve still sleeping peacefully where she had left him.

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