#I fell asleep then had unholy amounts of work to do

[trashburgersblair]

4 and 10 for mech asks

4. Favorite album cover art

High Noon over Camelot! I like how they combined the star and gun barrel (I don't think that's the right word but I don't know that much about guns)

10. Favorite mechs fanfic

this question is unfair because I have to many /lh

The entirety of @ladydragonkiller 's "far away and breathing cleanse air" series is amazing

And "Livestock" by @nammikisulora is also really good and fucked up /pos

[bangtansocean]

I Can Do Better - [KSJ] Part Two

!! You are now reading Part Two of I Can Do Better, click here to read Part One.

⏤ word count: 3.3k

⏤𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: adult content ahead [18+] :

Content Table: 01 l 02 | 03

click here to go back to master list

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The smell of pancakes and the odd amount of light coming from your window wake you up from your sleep.

You lift your head in search of your phone and find it on the floor next to the bed , your reflection staring back through the black screen.

Oh you are in trouble, you think as you turn the phone on, cursing whoever it was that decided to call you at unholy hours to congratulate you for your birthday.

As soon as the screen lights up, there are a few notifications of missed calls and messages from your family and friends wishing you a happy birthday, smiling when you slide all the way to the bottom and seeing the 4 missed calls from your childhood best friend, Jimin.

You met Jimin when you were in middle school. He was the leader of the dance team, and when you applied to be a part of the team, he welcomed you with a warm smile and helped you throughout the years, polishing your moves and helping you fall in love with dance. You found out later that he was actually Jin’s cousin, and Jimin tried to play matchmaker with you both, ending in you and Jin becoming best friends.

Oh yeah, about that.

You and Jin have been unconsciously avoiding each other ever since last weekend, the faint memories of that night taking over your thoughts as you begin to mindlessly scroll through your social media apps.

You wish you could remember more of it, the blurry images of Jin holding you as you cried and as you slept making your cheeks burn. You think about the shower too, a tingling sensation lingering on your thighs as you remember the way his soft, plump lips caressed your skin through the soap.

You remember waking up with a slight headache, Jin’s chest against your back as he snored on the crook of your neck. His arm and leg wrapped around your figure, the warmth of his body being the reason why you woke up in the first place. It took you a while to understand the situation, slapping yourself mentally for letting it go this far.

Did you say something stupid? Does he know? Your mind was working at the speed of light as you tried to remember any of the conversations you had that night, but it all came as a blur to you. You eventually fell back asleep and woke up to Jin being gone, a written note on the nightstand letting you know he went out to play Tennis with some friends and that he won't be back for dinner. He left a glass of water and some medication next to the note, thanking him silently as you took those quietly, unable to stop yourself from panicking as the pills hit the back of your throat.

Was he avoiding you?

You quickly discarded the thought when he came back home that night, greeting you with a big smile on his face and a bag of sweets that he bought for you from the pastry downstairs. You both spent the rest of the night together like you normally would, no one bringing up the events of the night before. You silently agreed to never talk about it, but deep down you both wanted to, so you decided to create some distance between you after that night to avoid saying something atupid, or acting awkward to the point of being suspicious.

You both stayed busy with uni work and your extracurricular activities. Luckily, you are both very active and social, so you barely bumped into each other at home for the past week, and it didn’t feel intentional.

You continue to scroll through Instagram for a while, thanking everyone who congratulated you and sharing the stories they have tagged you in as you think about Jin, laughing at the few crazy videos your friends managed to find from a few years back where you were all drunk and dancing in the middle of the streets. The image of you and Jin dancing a drunk waltz and stepping on each other’s toes makes you smile.

The screen suddenly flashes a new message, diverting your attention to the recent message.

< Message from Namjoon: > Not coming to class today?

< Message from Namjoon: > They changed us to room 277 today, I’ll save you a seat!

< Message from Namjoon: > Oh, and happy birthday!

You smile at the messages, ready to reply when your eyes suddenly land on your clock: 8:45am.

“Fuck!” you curse out loud before jumping out of the bed and running to the bathroom to wash up quickly, cursing yourself repeatedly as you get ready.

< Message to Namjoon: > Overslept, I’m on my way!

You grab your bag from your desk and head to your door in a hurry, startled when you open the door to Jin, his hand mid air ready to knock on your door.

“Oh,” you both say.

“Where are you going?” Jin frowns when he sees your bag, “You are going to class on your birthday?” he says as he stares at you in disapproval.

“Yes, Jin.” You adjust your bag on your shoulder. “Some of us are not top of the class and can afford missing class during revision week.”

You roll our eyes at him, bumping against his shoulder as you walk past him. He sighs before turning around to find you frozen in place, surprised at the sight in front of you.

A homemade happy birthday billboard hangs from each side of the wall of the kitchen, a beautiful flower bouquet laying on the kitchen table, next to the delicious pancakes and the fruit salad that Jin has made for you.

“Jin…” You turn around with your hand over your heart, a warm smile forming from your lips as he smiles back, relieved to see that you like the little surprise he has made for you. You drop your bag on one of the kitchen’s chairs before walking towards Jin, his arms welcoming you in a tight hug.

“Happy Birthday, y/n.” He whispers as he kisses your forehead. He rests his chin on your head as you both breath quietly, enjoying each other’s warmth. Your hands play with Jin’s shirt as he hugs you harder. “I truly wish you get everything you want this year, you deserve the world.”

“Thank you, you’re the best.” You whisper against his chest.

“I know,” He says before you both laugh. You feel his lips planting one last kiss on your forehead before he lets go of your body, sighing in disappointment at the lack of contact.

You feel your phone vibrate on your pocket, taking it out to read Namjoon’s last message.

< Message from Namjoon: > Class starting now

< Message from Namjoon: > Let’s meet before second hour, I got something for you x

“Fuck I’m late to first hour,” you sigh as you stare at Jin with a pout .

Jin blinks his eyes repeatedly before shrugging his shoulders, letting you know how little he cares about you being late to class. You start making your way to the main door, ready to inform Jin that you would come back during your break at 12 to eat the breakfast he made once you were back from class.

“You won't make it on time even if you teleport to school, so sit your ass down and eat the food I made you” He scolds you as he walks towards the kitchen, looking for some cutlery in one of the cabinets. “I’ll drive you to school after breakfast.” he places a fork and a knife on the table, tapping it twice before looking at you with pleading eyes. “I promise.”

You sigh and smile, slowly making your way back to the kitchen and dropping your bag on the floor next to your seat. Jin opens the fridge to pull out a jar of fresh orange juice, your heart melting at the effort he made just for you.

“Some orange juice for the birthday lady?” He asks with a serious tone, mimicking a server at a restaurant, making you laugh before following his game.

“Oh, yes please. You are such a handsome guy, you work here often?” You wiggle your eyebrows before laughing again, Jin joining you this time as he serves the juice into your glass.

“Dig in, I hope you like it.” You notice Jin’s ears turning red as he looks to the floor, a nervous grin decorating his lips while he pulls his chair closer and sits next to you. He pours himself some juice as you take the first bite of pancakes into your mouth, instantly falling into a trance thanks to Jin’s amazing culinary skills.

_______________

_______________

“Are you sure?” You ask Jin, leaving the dirty plates next to the sink where he is scrubbing the pans he used to make you breakfast.

You argued for probably 5 minutes about the dishes. Jin said he would clean everything after he left you in school, but when he came back from changing from his pajamas and saw you doing the dishes, he decided to do them now to avoid you being sneaky again.

You felt bad that he had to clean after cooking everything, and when you offered some help he refused saying that ‘birthday girls don’t do favours on their birthdays’.

“Fine then, you keep cleaning, I'll take the bus to school.” You say as you get your bag and walk towards Jin to kiss him on the cheek goodbye. You were about to leave a small kiss on his cheek when he accidentally moved to speak to you, unaware that you were leaning towards him.

“But-” Jin is unable to finish his sentence when your lips touch his, his heart stopping for a second as you press your lips a little harder, quickly realizing that you were not kissing his cheek.

Those are his lips. On yours.

Oh my God you just kissed Seokjin.

You gasp while moving away quickly, both of you staring at each other with big eyes and your mouth’s partially open.

“I’m so sorry, Oh my god.” You touch your lips in disbelief while staring at him waiting to see his reaction.

Seokjin just blinks a few times, huffing with a grin on his face as he looks down, his ears turning a deep shade of red. “No worries, it happens… no big deal” He replies in a shy tone before biting his lips, closing the water faucet with shaking hands. He leaves the last plate on the drying rack before looking at you, who is still staring at him with a blank expression on your face.

“ I-...” He starts, “I promised you I would drive you to school after breakfast” He licks his lips nervously before continuing “Only if you want, if you want to take the bus I understand.” He adds, his words slow and careful as he rests his butt on the sink counter, crossing his arms and looking down as he waits for your answer.

“Uh, yeah, no. It’s fine” You say. You want to slap yourself across your face for sounding so nervous. You take a deep breath and shake your head hoping to feel less startled. “I mean, I’ll appreciate you taking me, if… you don’t mind.” Jin looks back at you to see you smiling at him, fidgeting your fingers while biting your lips, an act Seokjin grew accustomed to and knows that it means that you are excited and nervous, causing him to smile back at you, his ego rising for some reason at the idea of you feeling giddy because of a kiss you shared. Did accidentally kissing him cause these emotions in you?

“Of course I don’t mind” He says before walking towards the table, grabbing his wallet and car keys and stuffing them in the pockets of his jeans. “Anything for my princess.” He winks at you before walking past you and opening the door. “After you,” He bows jokingly.

His hand indicates you to walk past and leave before him, so you stand in front of him and bow back, making you both laugh as he closes the door and locks it with the key, both of you making your way to the car in complete silence, not wanting to let go of the feeling the kiss left on you both.

The car ride is quiet, the faint sound of music filling the strange vibes as you both hum everyone now and then to the melody of the songs, unsure of what to say or how to break the ice.

“So… you have plans tonight?” Jin speaks first, his eyes glued to the road as he continues. “Are you going out with Minho or something?”

The mention of your boyfriend's name sends a shiver down your spine. You haven’t really talked much since that one night where he left you hanging on your 6th month celebration. He did come over the next day and tried to talk to you about it, but he never apologised and he ended up gas lighting you, trying to make you believe that you agreed to cancel the date because his ex-band mates were in town that weekend. You wanted to fix things, but instead, you screamed at each other and you cursed him out for being a terrible boyfriend, only to have him manipulate you into thinking it was your fault, ending in you having to apologise for blowing everything out of proportion.

You honestly apologized because you just wanted him to leave before Jin got home, knowing that if he were to be present when Minho came over, Jin would’ve punched the shit out of him. He kept texting you after that saying that he would make things right, and he has been trying, but you’ve grown tired of his empty promises.

“Uhh, no?” You reply, unsure if Minho has a surprise planned or something. You make a mental note to call him before class to confirm.

“Oh.. Okay” Jin replies, confused by your lack of emotion. “Did you guys fight?” He asks again, not sure how to continue the conversation.

“Not really, we kind of made up after the fight last week but he hasn't really talked about doing something for my birthday,” you say. “He knows I prefer to spend it with my friends though, so…” You finish telling him while shrugging your shoulders, trying to make your argument more convincing. The problem is you are not sure if you are trying to convince Seokjin, or yourself .

“So you are free tonight?” He turns to look at you after parking the car in the drop out area, the school looking quite empty since everyone is already in class. You turn to look at him and nod in response. “ Would you like to have dinner back home with me? I’ll make your favourite.” He smiles and bats his eyelashes in a comical way, making you laugh before nodding again.

“Sure. I end class at five, but I’ll probably be home by seven.” You confirm with him.

You are not sure why you said you’d be home by seven, but you are hoping to see your boyfriend tonight before heading home so you decided to open up two hours of your day to meet up with him.

The radio turns quiet as you drift your attention to his lips, hyper focused on how his tongue slides over his bottom lip before he bites it, his eyes dancing between your lips and your eyes.

“I- I have to go…” You say in a quiet voice, unable to move from your seat as he stares at you.

“Hmm, yeah.” He replies in a whisper.

You both find yourself unable to move, the tension between you making the car feel extra hot. Jin moves first, lifting his hand and carefully placing it on your cheek, caressing your blushed skin as he leans forward, his eyes glued to your lips as he licks his again.

You start leaning forward too, both reaching for the other in slow motion until your foreheads are touching. Your breaths mix as your chests rise violently, both nervous and in a trance, waiting for the other to make the first move.

It seems like he read your mind, because the second you decided to take initiative and lean in for the kiss, he too, leaned forward, smashing your lips together into a feverish kiss.

Your hands travel to Jin’s hair, pulling his hair back as his tongue teases your bottom lip, making you moan against his lips before he pulls you closer to him.

The kiss is not innocent, nor nervous. Your mouths are moving desperately and sensually, the desire you both felt for each other these whole time unraveling right in Jin’s car.

You begin to move your hips a little, trying to get more comfortable since the arm rest has been digging on your hips for a while, and it’s starting to hurt. However, Jin thinks faster than you, pulling both of the arm rests up and pulling you towards him, inviting you to sit on his lap.

“Fuck,” It’s all that comes out of Jin’s mouth before he pulls his seat back, giving you more space to sit comfortably, both of your legs straddling him as he begins to kiss our jaw, slowly making his way to the crook of your neck where he sucks the skin gently.

You moan his name at the feeling of his tongue circling your sensitive skin, your hips rolling against his boner as a response to his kisses. Your name leaves Jin’s lips in a sweet moan, sending a wave of arousal between your legs as your lips look for his mouth again.

You roll your hips harder, your wet underwear leaving wet spots on his jeans as he lifts your skirt and squeezes your ass, pushing you lower on him. You can feel his boner against your wet core, making you both moan as you continue to kiss.

Until the bell rings.

The sound of the university’s bells startle both of you, making you jump and hit your head with the car's ceiling.

“Careful” Jin laughs before rubbing your head, staring into your eyes as it sinks in.

You just made out in Jin’s car, and this one was not an accident.

You can feel yourself growing embarrassed, panic rising when you notice your classmates walking out of the door, Namjoon becoming visible to you as he dials his phone and puts it on his ear, your ringtone playing seconds after letting you know he is looking for you.

“I need to go.” You say as you struggle to get off Jin’s lap and quickly fix your skirt, feeling like you're about to faint from embarrassment when you see the wet spots on his jeans.

“I’ll… see you for dinner, right?” Jin asks in a quiet voice.

He too, is just as confused as you, but he wants to make sure you are both good for tonight.

“Yes, I’ll… I’ll see you at seven.” You say while picking up your things and opening the door, waving him a quick bye before walking towards the entrance.

You hear Jin’s car leave a few seconds after, turning around to confirm he is gone before holding your chest dramatically, feeling like your heart was about to beat out of you onto the floor.

“There you are!” Namjoon’s voice startles you, turning around quickly. He gets scared at your sharp moves, staring at you with big eyes for a few seconds before smiling at you. “Happy Birthday!!” He exclaims excitedly, wrapping you in a big bear hug. “Let’s go, I have a lot to tell you about before class starts.”

He drags your unresponsive body across campus to your usual bench, and he starts to speak to you about his night antics. However, you are unable to listen because in your mind, you are still making out in the lap of your roommate, forever crush and best friend, Kim Seokjin.

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a/n: Thank you for reading! Let me know if you like it, your likes, comments and reblogs mean the world to me! :) Hope you are having a good year so far! Happy readings! Ceci x

[innaminitus]

Gingerbreads

Pairing: George x reader x Fred

Request: WEASLEY TWINS CHRISTMAS SMUT YES PLEAASE where they both like the reader but like make a deal that it’s either both of them for her or none of them? THANK YOU

Warnings: smut, no twincest

Word count: 2671

A/N: BIG NOTE: if you are not okay with this kind of fic, you are free to not read it. there is plenty of similar fics all over tumblr, you can avoid them, too.

first fic from my Christmas at Hogwarts series! Feel free to send requests!

The hallways were filled with candles and glittery chains, on every corner there was a Christmas tree, decorated with all kinds of ornaments, gingerbreads and dried oranges, filling the air with the specific scent of holidays.

Disgusting.

You hated the so called ‘holiday spirit’ and basically everything that involved anything associated with Christmas. It wasn’t your fault, really. You remembered times when you actually quite liked Christmas. Not much of it you remembered, though, since you were just a small child when it all fell apart. It was Christmas, after all, when your father murdered your mother right in front of you. Cinnamon and oranges only made you anxious now.

Suddenly someone bumped into you from behind.

“Hey, Portkey!” The Weasley twins blocked your view and both walked backwards in order to see you.

“Stop calling me that…” You furrowed at the nickname, but couldn’t help but to smile.

You got the nickname after the circumstances in which you met the twins.

You were scrubbing the cauldrons in Snape’s office as your detention when the door opened and Filch jumped on his chair in which he has been snoring for at least half an hour now. Snape stormed through the door, dragging two boys by their collars. You saw them before, the famous Weasley twins, the jokers of Hogwarts.

“Messrs. Weasley will help Miss Y/L/N clean the cauldrons. I expect them to be clean enough to see my own reflection.”

“Of course, professor!” Filch nodded his head. “I’ll make sure they will!”

But despite what he said, right after Snape left Filch sat back on his chair and started snoring once again. Fred or George laughed at him and grabbed one of the sponges you were using to clean one of the cauldrons from something thick and sticky.

“I’m Fred” one of them said “and this is George.” He pointed at his twin who cringed at the sight of dirty cauldrons.

“I’m Y/N,” you murmured without taking your eyes off a particularly dirty place.

“And how did you end up here?”

You smirked and looked up.

“I turned Filch’s mop into a portkey. He ended up on the roof every time he touched it.”

They both laughed at your words.

“Brillaint!” said George. At least you thought it was George. “We gave the whole first year Fainting Fancies.”

“Only to test them, of course.”

“But Granger ruined the fun.”

You stopped scrubbing for a second and looked at them with dismay.

“What on earth are Fainting Fancies?” you asked, not sure if you actually want to know the answer.

“Ah!” Fred straightened, obviously very proud of himself. “Our invention! We are working on sweets that make you ill.”

“Sweets that make me ill?” You raised your eyebrow.

“Exactly. You take one and have, in example, instant fever. Perfect before an exam you forgot about.”

“You guys are really something else.”

It was in the middle of September. You have become quite inseparable ever since, the jokes and hours of detention really brought you together.

“Ready to leave for Christmas?” asked Fred, almost tripping over an old rug.

You dragged his arm and forced him to walk next to you, afraid he might actually fall next time. George also joined your side.

“I’m not leaving. I always spend Christmas here.”

“Well, actually that makes sense. I wouldn’t like to spend Christmas with a Slytherin either,” Fred laughed, but George stormed him with sight. “What?”

You only talked to George about what happened to your family. One night you were changing the lenses in telescopes in Astronomy Tower, so instead of stars they would show a giant eye of a person who would use them and ended up looking at the night sky filled with dark clouds. You were talking about everything and nothing, and from word to word you ended up confessing it to him. How your father killed your mother, because she wouldn’t join him as a Death Eater. How you run away through the back door of your house and, swallowing tears, stormed to your neighbors. How the Aurors would take your father to the Azkaban and leave you at an orphanage. How no one would adopt you.

“It’s just… Celebrating Christmas in an orphanage is never fun. I much prefer it here than there.”

Fred’s smile fainted. “I’m- I’m sorry, Y/N, I had no idea.”

“That’s fine.” You waved your hand at him. “You couldn’t know.”

He looked at his twin, they exchanged looks that seemed to say more than any word could.

“Alright, that’s it,” George said. “You have to come with us for Christmas.”

You shook your head with a faint smile. “It’s alright, boys. I’m fine on my own, really.”

“Well, we’re not.” Fred stopped, blocking your way up the corridor. “That’s it, you’re coming with us. I already told mom you would.”

You furrowed. “No, you didn’t.”

“But I will, so you better go pack yourself.”

You sighed. Would it really be so bad? Would you go down memory lane and get fifteen panic attacks by the time you step through the door of their home or would you finally soothe the horror you’ve been living in for past twelve years? There was only one way to find out.

“Alright. I’ll go.”

***

You were nervous during the whole train ride, and now you felt as if you were about to jump from your own skin because of anxiety. With the rest of the Weasley siblings and, of course, the one and only Harry Potter you were waiting outside the King’s Cross station for Mr. Weasley, who was going to pick you up. In a car, they said. You couldn’t possibly imagine how exactly you would fit in a car with all the baggage, but magic surprised you way too many times for you to still question everything. This time it was no different – although Mr. Weasley parked a simple black car, he supposedly got from the Ministry (it had something to do with Potter, but you didn’t ask too many questions) inside it was as big as a van. Every single one of you could fit inside, and you still had plenty of room left. They all chattered and laughed during the way, but you were too stressed to even listen to them. You regretted your decision already. You should be at Hogwarts, in your dorm room, alone, reading a book and drinking unholy amount of hot chocolate with marshmallows. The elves would always bring you some food and this perfect beverage since you never joined the rest of the students which stayed as well. But it was too late now.

The car stopped before an old, weirdly crooked house which looked like a patchwork blanket you had when you were little. Somehow it made you feel warm inside.

You got out right after Ginny, with your bag in hand, unsure what to do. You locked your eyes on flying lights around the roof of the house. Could it be fairies? Or just enchanted string of plain lights?

All of the sudden you felt heavy arm around your shoulders. “Hey, Portkey, you alright?” Fred asked, his sight following yours. “Yeah, I know it’s not much, but–“

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted, smiling.

His face brightened and you noticed sparkles in his eyes. Pretty.

“Go on, lovebirds!” Ginny waved at you and you noticed that it was now only you and Fred standing outside. You blushed suddenly and hurried inside.

“Oh, hello, dear!” Mrs. Weasley smiled at you and grabbed your arms, squeezing them lightly. A big warm smile bloomed on her face. “You must be Y/N! How lovely to finally meet you, I’m so glad you’ll spend holidays with us!”

“Thank you for having me.” You smiled back. This woman just greeted you like an old family friend, not an orphan she sees for the first time in her life. It was… oddly nice.

***

You were sitting on a sofa, your knees under your chin, staring blindly at the yule tree, your sight blurred to the point where you only saw points of colorful light. The dinner was wonderful. Mrs. Weasley asked George in a letter what your favorite food was, and of course made it just for you. She also made sure there was no scent of gingerbread spice. It was just a little too much for you.

“You’re not asleep?” Someone’s voice interrupted your mindless procrastinating.

You blinked and turned your head to look at George walking down the stairs.

“Not yet… I’m a little overwhelmed. Don’t mind me.”

He sat next to you. The sofa was quite small, that’s why you put your legs down, and now his thigh was touching yours.

“I know my mum can be… intense. To say the least, but she means well.”

“I know that, and she’s lovely, really, it’s just… I don’t know. A lot to process for me. I haven’t had real Christmas since I was a kid. And you are all trying to make me feel welcome…” You turned your head from him, suddenly ashamed. “I feel like I don’t deserve any of it.”

A second passed, then another, and you felt his warm fingers under your chin. He gently turned your face back to him.

“You deserve everything, Y/N.” He moved so close to you that for a second you were sure he was going to kiss you, but he hesitated mere millimeters from your lips. Hotness flushed your cheeks. He smelled like pine tree and suddenly you decided it was now your favorite scent. You waited for a second that felt like an hour, and slightly moved away in the same moment he moved forward. A small gasp escaped your lips, he leaned even more, undaunted, and kissed you gently. No tongue, not even opened mouth, just lips touching lips. It was a long kiss, though, and when he moved away you felt uncomfortable chill on your mouth.

“George–“

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t–“

“No,” you interrupted. “Do it again. Please.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. His hand landed on the back of your neck, he pulled you to him, and butterflies erupted in your stomach. Enough with the gentleness, he was needy, as if he’s been waiting for your lips his whole life. His other hand was on your thigh, he was turning you more towards him as his tongue slid into your mouth.

“Well, well, well.”

You parted immediately, somehow ashamed. Fred slowly walked down the stairs, a hint of smile on his face. “What do we have here?” He stood before you, hands crossed. “I thought we had a deal, Georgie.” Wait, what? “It’s either both of us or none of us.”

You blinked once, then twice, but couldn’t understand the situation. You looked at George, hoping that maybe he would make it clearer.

“I know, I know,” he sighed “but I couldn’t help myself.”

Your heart missed a beat, but not in a pleasant way. Were they… making a bet?

“Can any of you tell me what the hell are you talking about?” you asked, lovely moment from just a mere minute ago long gone.

George rubbed the back of his head and exchanged looks with Fred. They were doing it again, communicating without words.

He sighed. “We– we both like you, okay? And we agreed that none of us will be with you… unless the other one would also be involved.”

You swallowed hard. Did he mean… to be with them both? At the same time? It seemed crazy but… you liked them, too. They were both handsome, obviously. Would it be so bad?

“Okay,” you said, the steadiness of your voice surprising you. “We can– we can try.”

They seemed as surprised as you were, looking at each other once more.

Fred was the first to speak, after he cleared his throat. “Then maybe… let’s go to our room?”

You nodded and followed him up the stairs, feeling the warmth of George’s body behind you.

It was oddly arousing. You had to be quiet, to not wake anyone. You knew you’d have to be quiet later when… When what exactly? Were you going to have sex? Or was it just your hope?

You entered the twins’ room, bathed in moonlight. It smelled like pine here as well…

Suddenly a hand was on the back of your neck, Fred’s tongue first, a split second before his needy lips landed on yours. You didn’t think, you didn’t wait, you gave back every kiss, your tongue next to his. While his fingers were tangled in your hair another set of hands played with skin under the hem of your shirt, bolder with each passing moment. He traced the curves of your body, shamelessly traveled up, and up, his soft fingers caressed the side of your breasts only to finally land on your hardened nipples. You moaned in Fred’s mouth at which he bit your lower lip.

“You like how he touches you, huh?” His voice no more than a whisper, sent shivers down your body. “Wait till I touch you.”

George rolled your nipples in between his fingers, but soon his hands were gone, because Fred lifted you up. They seemed to have one mind, what one thought the other acted. George sat on one of the beds, Fred seated you between his brother’s legs. His fingers hooked on your pajama pants and your panties, but before he took them off he took a look at you, one eyebrow raised in silent question. You could go back now, they wouldn’t blame you. Only… you didn’t exactly want to go back. You lifted your hips, your answer just as silent as his. He grinned and slid your clothes down your legs. George gripped your shirt and soon it was also gone, but you weren’t cold. You had two bodies to warm yourself and you were gladly going to use them.

George’s soft lips traced the curve of your neck while Fred was watching your arousal grow under his brother’s touch. His hands slowly parted your thighs, showing your already pulsating pussy. His twin’s fingers were kneading your breasts and mercilessly pinching your nipples while his mouth landed on yours, kissing you passionately.

He caught you by surprise, really. Almost making you jump when you felt warm tongue spreading your folds, surprise quickly turning to pleasure when Fred’s tongue started to, gently at first, play with your dripping pussy. Oh, but he was impatient. Soon you were a moaning as he was sucking on your clit and slowly pushing one finger inside of you. George wasn’t planning on being any worse than his brother – his skillful fingers could probably make you come just by playing with your nipples and soon you were biting your lips almost till they bled, only to not moan their names.

The pleasure was unbelievable. Feeling of two bodies against you, flicks of Fred’s tongue and moves of George’s fingers and his lips on yours – it was all too much to bear, too much for one person to experience. And you found yourself lost in this pleasure when Fred joined another finger deep in your pussy. Your muscles clenched on him, he started sucking on your clit, George’s fingers pinched hard and all of the sudden you were almost knocked out by the most intensive orgasm you’re ever had.

They gave you a moment to come down from the high and slowly started to undress when you suddenly heard a knock on the door.

“Can you wrap it up?” You heard Ginny’s whisper. “Mom asked me twice already where you are, Y/N, I’m running out of excuses.”

You got all red and slapped your hand over your mouth, looking at the twins who tried very hard not to laugh. Fred handed you your clothes and George leaned to your ear “We’ll finish it tomorrow.” A shiver went down your spine. Well, now you’ve had new Christmas memory to hold onto.

[devildomdoofus]

Lemon Dreams: Part 1

[NSFW]

Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan

a bit of spicey lil dreams the brothers have of MC. If requested, I’ll add the undateables (minus Luke) into a Part 3.

Gender-Neutral as always.

MINORS:

DO NOT INTERACT

DO NOT PROCEED

Be smart, have common sense.

I’m not responsible for your irresponsibility.

You see the warnings. I put them out plainly. Adhere.

‼️WARNINGS‼️

NSFW, mature theme, mature content, implied intercourse, nudity, swearing, light bondage, BDSM, tidbit of pet play, wet dreams,

IF I MISSED ANY, PLEASE INFORM ME

Author’s Note (Sorry, I’ll try to be brief):

Trying my hand at some “light” N S F W content to see how I do and see how it goes.

Thank you all, once again, for the love and support and positive responses!! You’re enjoyment is the reason I keep doing what I love to do✨ Please: stay healthy, stay safe, stay you, and stay ruling them all, MCs 💕

- DevildomDoofus

💙Lucifer:

Regrettably, it has been nearly a millennia since he’s had any amount of a decent shuteye due to his brothers’ antics, his oversight of R.A.D., and obligations to Diavolo so you can only imagine the amount of fatigue that he felt in his mind, body, and soul. But because of his image and his own personal desire to be nothing short of perfect, he couldn’t simply rest whenever or wherever he pleased. It was outlandish to even consider the idea. Unfortunately, the side effects of denying himself any form of rest were starting to show. It was causing him to make mistakes he wouldn’t normally make and Diavolo had to personally intervene, using his authority on behalf of his dear friend’s health or lack thereof and demanded that he take a day off. He was the only one in all of the realms that could try and convince this workaholic to put on the breaks. You, yourself, have tried before but Lucifer was as stubborn as the days of summer were long and you felt like you were talking to a brick wall. But because Lucifer could not deny his prince’s demands, he reluctantly obliged... but not without absolute confirmation that nothing would go wrong while he was absent and as soon as he felt rested enough, he would return immediately.

Locking himself away in his room while putting a soundproof spell on the outside of it, he finally sits down at his desk and leans back in his chair as he sluggishly closes his eyes. The silence was both mildly relaxing and extremely uncomfortable as it was so rare for the world around him to be so... quiet. so undisturbed. So peaceful.

It was a bit unnerving.

He sighs deeply. This whole resting thing was going to be a lot more difficult than he originally thought. He stands up to go grab a vinyl record, places it on the antique gramophone and turns the device on. The orchestra makes their way through the metal funnel and the melody of the instruments echo beautifully throughout his room. “Much better,” he hums to himself. He tosses his coat aside, unbuttons his vest and drops it to the floor, removes his button-up shirt, kicks off his shoes, and does away with his belt while his pants follow suit. He dons his nighttime robe and finally slides into his bed. As soon as he hits the mattress, his eyes shut and his mind turns off, allowing him to drift swiftly into a deep slumber.

The dream started out like any other dream he’s had in his life; it’s mundane and not much is going on. It’s practically the same as ‘bringing work home with him’ but in his dreams. He’s at his desk, crossing his t’s, dotting his i’s, finalizing some paperwork, and the like, while the stress from his waking hours begins to find its way back to him like a boomerang.

Then, as if by magic, all of his stress melted away as soon as he heard a knock on his door along with your voice calling for him softly on the other side. He smirks. “You may enter.” He kept his head low as you stepped in due to the fact that he was finishing signing a particular paper. “Just a moment,” he instructs, as the last cursive letter finds its place on the paper. He begins to lift his eyes to meet yours. “Now, what can I do for yo-...” He freezes.

There you were, standing before him, in nothing but one of his ties hanging loosely around your neck. His jaw clenches and his fist tighten into a ball so firmly that his knuckles turn white under his gloves.

‘Like a lamb to it’s slaughter,’ he quotes, internally.

Needless to say, the dream takes a more DRASTIC turn and he’s got you bent over the desk, hands tied up with his tie that you so graciously considered to bring with you, and his name pouring out of your lips like a faucet. He’s taking you all for himself, piece by divine piece, with every snap of his hips, bite of your skin, and claw of your flesh. What a sight you were beneath him.

The moment he wakes, his body is covered in a ‘morning’s dew’ of sweat and the sheets of his bed have become painfully heavy on his lower half. His heart is still thumping wildly in his chest and his eyes are darting everywhere in his room, ensuring that he’s alone and no one can see him in such a disheveled state. He uses part of his robe to dab away the sweat from his brow and then rubs his eyes as he collects himself.

Spends the next many few hours calming himself down and hoping that he is blessed by some unholy miracle where NOBODY walks in...

especially you...

with nothing but his tie hanging loosely around your neck and-...

Ah shit.

The following morning at breakfast, he is eyeing you rather heavily from across the table and his brothers take notice but never dare to say a word. They just assume that you’ve done something to piss him off again and want no part of it.

They are not entirely wrong, though. You had unknowingly irked him quite a bit.

You entered his dreams without permission, made such a delectable spectacle of yourself in front of him, and caused him to feel things that no other demon, angel, human, nor any other soul for that matter, has been able to make him feel. And now he has to deal with these explicit thoughts and feelings, especially when you’re around or in his vicinity, along with many other things that demand his attention and it’s all just so irritating. Delightfully irritating. The kind of irritating he secretly enjoys.

The next few days, you never really get the sense that anything is off with Lucifer for how well he carries himself, no matter his circumstances, and yet... he seems to be less physical with you. Normally, he would give you the occasional hand on the shoulder or upper back when you needed guidance, allow you to lean on his shoulder when your days had been particularly rough and you needed to rest, or pinch your cheek when he teased you but lately... he wouldn’t even keep eye contact with you for very long without turning away and- was that a hint of pink in his cheeks? No, surely you are imagining things. Lucifer, blushing? Has the devildom froze over?

💛Mammon:

This poor, sweet and a little bit sleazy man was just SO exhausted from having to get up early that morning when he’d normally sleep in, to go to a school he doesn’t ever really pay attention to, as well as constantly keep lower demons from getting anywhere near his precious MC, bribe Levi to do his homework in exchange for an exclusive Ruri-Chan figurine (which he went into further debt to obtain), keep his overbearing fanbase from his modeling jobs happy on social media... it all was simply too much for The Great Mammon to be doing when he could alternatively be doing something better. Like being lazy sleeping off this R.A.D lag.

He had skipped his last few remaining classes and told you he was headed to your room to crash before school let out and you two could hang out later. He plopped onto your bed, nuzzled his face into one of your pillows, and fell asleep shortly after to your sweet aroma surrounding him.

His dream began as they typically do, with him gambling his Grimm for higher payouts or watching the Devildom stock market fluctuate in his favor... or more often times than he’ll ever admit, it’s just the two of you spending some quality time together alone for a change.

Only this time, his dream didn’t end up the way it typically did.

In his dream, he was sitting next to you on the sofa with his arm resting behind your head wanting to wrap it around you so fucking badly and watching whatever you had put on when it was interrupted by the winning lottery ticket read out. He leapt from couch with a big yell and the winning ticket in hand, and rushed to hug the tv and to kiss the demon inside of it, thanking him, Lady Luck, and anyone else involved in his incredible fortune today. As he turned around to come squeeze you tight with excitement and have you share in his celebration, his whole body tensed and he stopped in his tracks. He had become a deer in the headlights.

You were now lewdly postured on the couch, bare and exposed, excluding how you were practically dripping in gold jewelry/accessories whilst surrounded by enormous piles of Grimm. With one finger, you beckoned him over.

To say that this is one of his all time favorite fantasies would be THE understatement of the millennia.

He was in front then over you in a matter of milliseconds, his demon form taking over his body and stealing noises from you that the entire House of Lamentation- no- the entire Devildom could hear and FUCK he loved that thought almost as much as he adored you he cared about you; the thought that the entire Devildom could hear that you were his and his alone, that no other soul could make you feel like this.

And just as it was about to get really good, he wakes up.

Red faced, breathing heavily, and a thick coat of sweat all over his body. Not to mention the newfound, painful tightness in his pants.

He’s jerking his head around the room to confirm hoping to deny that is was all simply a dream, and to be certain that you hadn’t come back from school early or something and found him like this.

“Unholy shit.” He wipes the sweat from his face and then takes his phone in his hand to check the time. “UNHOLY SHIT!!” You had texted that you were on your way back home 10 minutes ago! He had to be quick.

He replaced the sweaty sheets and pillow cases with new ones, adjusting them so that it looked as it had before he slept on them, tied his school uniform coat around his waist to disguise the ‘friendly neighborhood bachelor,’ and darted like a bat out of devildom to his room, avoiding major hallways and doors to ensure that no one could stop him or chase him down and see him in his predicament.

You can be sure that for the next few weeks, he’s avoiding you like the plague. He sends texts that he is “paying off a debt and can’t make it,” or “Sorry MC, I’m a little tied up at the moment. This Grimm won’t make itself.” and to you it was a little odd, but nothing he hasn’t exactly done before, so you go about your days as normal. Poor Mammon has once spent an entirety of four months working a few jobs to pay off one big loan.

If only you knew how often he was reliving that dream in his head, over and over and over again. For such a thing to become reality? Well... he feels he’d have better luck winning the lottery. But just as he gambled, he wouldn’t give up so easily.

🧡Leviathan:

It is not uncommon for Leviathan to have certain dreams about certain individuals he enjoys, be it anime characters, video game characters, idols that he fawns over, etc. It’s normal. Quite often, in fact, but he would rather LITERALLY DIE before he ever admits to such a thing, much less have anyone think he has a crush. With his brothers as they are known to be, he’d never live it down. Which is one of the reasons why he keeps himself locked away in his room and goes on binges of whatever it is he’s invested in at the time. He’s left alone to do and be as much of himself as he pleases without judgment. It is one particular episode of an anime he had been bingeing for several hours that has him with his head resting upon his keyboard and ever so slightly snoring away as the characters converse in the background. It wasn’t boring in the least, it’s just that his eyes refused to stay open any longer and his body decided for him that it was about time for a proper nap.

His dream began as normal, with him on a quest to save the renowned, royal heir from the ten-headed beast that guarded the tower in which they were kept. The journey to the tower was extensive and not without its obstacles, the battle was epic, in every sense of the word, and the reward for it’s heads would match the gratification of the victory that ensued it.

Little did he know that in that tower, it wasn’t just any royal heir lying in wait for their prince to come, as they had always been. It was you.

You, in all of your glory, draped across the bed and adorned with the finest of cloths that were barely covering your most intimate of skins.

As he entered your bedroom chambers, expecting to find a fictional character he adored in his waking hours, he stops dead in his tracks and his entire body turns red hot in matter of seconds. You could easily hear the thumping of his heart throwing heavy blows at his ribcage, and, if you looked close enough, you could see the steam trickling out of his ears. You could also hear the clinking of his amor, the metal plates shaking against one another as he trembles before you.

Leviathan.exe has stopped working.

Yes, he’s had plenty of dreams like this before but.. fuck.. they were never of you. Much less like this. Believe him, he’s tried on many occasions to at least see your face or hear your voice, ANYTHING. But inevitably, his anxiety and shyness won in the end and you never came passing through his dreams... until now.

You leant against one arm, your lips curling into a smile, and then beckoned him silently with one crook of a finger.

Anxiety and shyness who?

He quickly does away with the heavy armor, tossing them aside, and crawls across the bed to you, to your face, to those precious lips.

He takes a hold of them in his own and seemingly devours you as he strips you of what little cloth covered you and then pushes you back down against the bed. The dream continues with your bodies intertwining in every way that earned him the lewdest of noises from you.

Until he jerks awake with his face a deep shade of crimson, body covered from head to toe in a mist of sweat, and a heartbeat that could put a drum solo to shame. He quickly scans his surroundings as he’s coming back to reality, making sure he’s the only one within a mile’s radius. If anyone thought he was a hermit now, you can only imagine what it would be like if he was caught looking the way that he did. The anime that he had fallen asleep to was now on a screen that was asking for confirmation if he was still watching. He presses the power button on his computer and wipes away the sweat on his brow before leaning back in his chair, eyes glued to the ceiling as he’s recollecting the dream. He sees the faces you were making in pleasure pass through his mind once more and it makes his face turn 30 shades redder and increases the painful tightness in his snug sweatpants. He shakes his head, no longer wanting to continue digging this grave of overwhelming lust, and plants his head back onto the keyboard. Lord Diavolo, please, just kill him now.

The following months, Leviathan stays locked away in his room and avoids you as if you were the final boss of a game he never wants to stop playing. He knew that if he saw you, got near you, or even heard your name being mentioned, there would be no way of stopping his thoughts, his body’s reactions to those thoughts, nor his brother’s comments about how he’s “acting awfully strangely.”

As much as he wishes that he never had the dream in the first place because of all of the trouble it’s causing, he can’t help but relive it over and over again, putting it on repeat in his mind. But to admit to you these powerful feelings and attempt to bring it to reality? Only normies do such a thing... right?

💚Satan:

Line after line, chapter after chapter, book after book, he simply could not put the new series he had discovered down. He was so invested, he’d finish one book and immediately pick up the next. His mind was reeling far too fast for him to stop now and nothing in all of the three realms could do so. That is until his own body waved it’s white flag and begged for him to shut his eyes, even if for just moment. Satan bargained, internally, that he’d allow himself roughly thirty minutes of rest before he’d pick back up where he left off. He sets the book on a nearby desk, settles down onto his loveseat and closes his eyes.

As a man of many talents and faces, his dreams were known to be as heavily diverse as he was, and often times reflected whatever book he had been reading, philosophy he had been pondering, or stress he had been managing. No one particular type of dream frequented more than another.

That being said, in the past few weeks, you had been a bit more physical with him. Whether it was a simple brush of the hands as you two reached for the same novel, late night study sessions ending up in late night study and cuddling sessions, or the occasional linking of arms as the pair of you walked the length of a museum and studied its inhabitants. It goes without saying that you were making an impression on him and his mind, leaving little to no room for any other thoughts than the ones involving you. Naturally, you had found your way into his dreamworld and you were the one constant in the ever changing slumber visions.

The dreams that you were involved in, which were now a majority of them, were mostly sweet; the most intimate being the one time you had placed a chaste kiss upon his cheek. If you were to ask him about these dreams that had him chipper than usual, he would smile and tell you that “they were simply pleasant hallucinations but nothing more.” And he’d be lying through his teeth, desperately trying to keep his cheeks from reddening in front of you. If you were lucky enough that his gaze lingered, you’d catch the tint of pink making its way across his face. The poor inner romantic in him couldn’t help himself. He’s mastered the art of poker face in its entirety, but when it came to you, his willpower and calm demeanor waned into nothingness and he was like putty in your hands. Just don’t push it or there will be Devildom to pay.

This particular time around, though, his dream would take a more unforeseen turn.

In his dream, he had invited you to join him on an outing over to the Royal Library and you two were now making your way to your favorite lone table in the farthest back corner, hidden behind the many shelves of books. After claiming your usual spot, he went to gather the books he wanted to go through and planted himself in the chair to finally open them up and get started. Meanwhile, you had wandered off, presumably, to find and create your very own mountain of novels to conquer.

An hour or so passed and he had made his way through five of his books when he felt a tap against the cover of the one he was currently reading. “Forgive me, MC, but I’m almost done with this paragraph and I need just one more moment to do so.” Another tap against the cover. “May it wait, MC? I’m nearly finished.” This time, you gingerly grabbed the tip of his book and tilted it away from him (a pet peeve of his). Just as he was about to give you his trademark glare of warning, his eyes widen and his jaw clenches, with his fingers letting go of the book and tightening into a fist taut enough to turn his knuckles white.

There you stood before him in little to no clothing, fluffy little cat ears and a tail to match, with a leash and collar adorning your precious neck. You took his stiffened hand, ever so slowly opened it up, and delicately placed the end of the lead into his palm, flashing him your cheekiest grin.

Now you’ve gone and done it. He snaps.

He jerks the end of the lead so that you’re aggressively pulled forward, bending over the table and sending the piles of books to the floor with audible thuds, and your lips crash into his. He uses his free hand to trap cradle the other side of your face as he devours your lips, devours your taste. Impatient and hungry, he soon lets you go with a low growl before standing up and dragging you behind him, forcefully, by the lead, coming to the front of a shelf that leant against a wall and grabbed your waist, lifting you up to push you against it, having more books tumble to the floor with a sound thud, while once again, taking your lips with his. Something about the way you looked, the way you sounded because of his actions, drove him completely mad.

Before it could go any further, he jerks wakes to the sound of someone knocking on his door. He quickly scans his surroundings and when he finds it empty, he breathes a heavy sigh of relief. The knocks continue and from beyond the door, a familiar voice requests his audience. “Satan? It’s Solomon. My apologies, but I just wanted to return a borrowed book.”

He reaches for a nearby cloth and dabs away the sweat that covered his face. He steadies his breathing and in the stablest voice he could muster, he answers back, “Alright. One moment please.”

“Take your time,” the sorcerer replies.

He gathers himself quickly, as the master of his own emotions does, hoisted up from the loveseat, straightens himself out and starts to head for the door but with a quick glance downwards, he pauses. There’s no way he could greet Solomon with such a visible... display...

He takes his coat from the coatrack, wraps it around his waist and finally opens the door with a welcoming smile.

“Thank you kindly for the recommendation. It was a pleasant read,” Solomon tittered in recollection then immediately shifted into a frown of concern. “Satan... are you alright? Forgive my intrusion, but you seem a bit disheveled.” The disheveled man in question nods, chuckling in hopes of deterring Solomon from pressing any further by lightening his aura. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for your concern. I simply had a bit of a nightmare.” Solomon raised a brow and Satan continued in his tall tale. “It had been so long since I’ve had one, so I’m sure you can imagine how unnerving it’s effects had on me.” Moments passed like molasses as Solomon pondered what Satan had said and the uncomfortable silence was wearing down on Satan’s last minute, makeshift composure. “Thank you for returning the book,” Satan’s voice firmly interjecting the fellow wise man’s thoughts as he received the book from his hands, “and I’m delighted that you enjoyed yourself.” He holds the book in front of where the coat covered his waist. “If you wish for more recommendations, I’ll be happy to share them with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some tea to drink and a book to read to calm my nerves. Good day, Solomon.” Before Solomon could get a final word in, Satan slips back into his room and shuts the door. For good measure, he locks it and turns the deadbolt. He shuffles back over to the loveseat where it all began and dropped down, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a heavy sigh. The blush that wanted so desperately to creep it’s way into his complexion the moment he’d awoken was now set free and his entire face turned red. He knew how to keep a tight grip on every other emotion he’s ever had... but love? Lust? This was going to be a challenge.

Outside of the door, not having moved an inch, Solomon stood with his chin snug between the crook of his forefinger and thumb. “Can demons have nightmares...?” He audibly contemplated as he waited a moment, following his train of thought before asking himself aloud again, “If so... then why did Satan have an erection?”

A pair of delicate hands found their way to Solomon’s shoulders and he glanced over them to see Asmodeus leaning in close to his ear. “It’s called a kink, darling.” Solomon politely shoos away the embodiment of lust with a gentle wave of his hand before starting down the hall from which he came, with the demon practically skipping in tow. “Kinks, we both know, I’m aware of. I had just assumed that his.. situation.. would be more relative to Belphegor.”

“Well,” Asmodeus chirped, “that’s what you get for assuming.”

[denkamis]

hi!! could i get double chocolate and cherry with kaminari, shinsou and midoriya please?❤️

idk if i did this right so im sorry if i didnt!

to anon: hey anon, no worries! you did it perfectly :)) aww i love the characters you chose for this prompt, this is adorable. enjoy some fluffy times with these sleep deprived boys from a very sleep deprived writer <3

warnings: none! just some swearing and some bad sleeping habits lmao. reader is gn!

prompt: denki kaminari, hitoshi shinsou, izuku midoriya scenarios + “it’s okay, i couldn’t sleep anyways.”

denki kaminari

denki stays up late playing osu and minecraft

what can i say, he’s just a gamer man

so he’s honestly pretty reliable when it comes to you knocking on his door at late hours of the night

always the biggest cuddle bug, really happy that you go to him first out of everyone

literally drops everything for you hehe

lots of sleepy kisses too

“fuck! goddammit,” denki grumbled, shaking out his wrist as he had just failed the six star version of the intro of blend-s on osu. he had gotten rather addicted to the circle clicking game. this further resulted in denki staying up late on school nights, despite kirishima’s warnings of him potentially falling asleep in class the next day. it was fine, he could always borrow notes from you or jirou anyways!

as he went to restart the map again, a soft knock came at the door to his dorm room. spinning off his computer room chair, he prepared himself to be lectured by aizawa for the fifth time this week about breaking curfew. “aizawa-sensei, i know that i’ve been loud lately but i swear this time it won’t happen- y/n?” he stopped mid-sentence as he saw you standing on the other side of the door. “what are you doing up so late?”

you shook your head, immediately hugging his torso instead. you were clearly a bit distraught about something, but denki wasn’t a mind reader. he figured that from the way you were clinging onto him, it must have been a bad dream of some kind. “hey, hey, easy there! nearly knocked me over, huh,” denki laughed lightly, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your head before closing the door behind you. you clung onto him, face buried in the crook of his neck. it made a small blush dust across his cheeks, a warm feeling spreading through his arms as he held you close. “i hope i’m not bothering you,” you mumbled, to which denki hummed. “you never bother me, babe. it’s okay, i couldn’t really sleep anyways.”

the two of you stayed like that for a long while, denki swaying the two of you back and forth. you could feel gentle lips peppering the crown of your head with kisses. as your heart rate slowed, denki piped up. “wanna stay here for the night? my bed’s missing out on some action! and by some action, i mean sleep. i really can’t sleep.”

you snorted at his words, your eyes flicking up to his goofy yet endearing smile, his eyes bright yet a bit tired from late night gaming. he poked his tongue out at you, making you roll your eyes with a tiny smile of your own gracing your features.

“how could i say no to that?”

hitoshi shinsou

we already know he’s up at these unholy hours

not for any particular reason, just because he can’t really sleep

quite the insomniac that one

and the fact that he can’t sleep properly or well unless you’re with him

you smell like lavender in the morning too bc he puts it in his pillow to help him sleep, thank you

shinsou lay awake in bed, eyes trained on the ceiling as he waited for himself to fall asleep. it was no secret that he barely got any rest, so it was simply easier to just sit and wait until his body exhausted itself to the point where he simply fell asleep. staying as still as he could, he kept counting the amount of times he breathed in and out. it made him acutely aware of his surroundings. the crickets outside his room, the way the moonlight streamed through his blinds, the miscellaneous creaking sounds of the dorms. yeah, he definitely wasn’t sleeping tonight.

he didn’t flinch as the door to his room opened, blinking slowly as his eyes adjusted to the light spilling into his room along with a new figure. “y/n?” he asked, not bothering to sit up. “hey, are you up? sorry toshi, i couldn’t sleep,” you explained softly, allowing the door to close behind you as you tiptoed across his dorm room. his hair was sprawled across his pillow, deep violet locks hiding his hands situated behind his head comfortably. it showed off his arms that were built from training for when, not if, he ever got into the hero course.

a lazy smile crossed his lips at your words, his heartstrings being played by you so seamlessly. “it’s okay, i couldn’t sleep anyways,” he replied with a tilt of his head towards you. he moved over a bit in his bed as to give you space to lay down next to him. you crawled beneath his comforters, inhaling the scent of lavender as you did. apparently shinsou had said that the smell helped him fall asleep easier. strong arms wrapped around your waist, encasing you in a protective embrace as your head rested comfortably against his chest. the comforter was thrown over the two of you. you felt so much safer already.

his large hands were placed on your lower back, his thumbs drawing lazy circles on your skin as his breathing began to relax noticeably. hiding your smile, you cuddled closer to him. to this day, you had never seen shinsou fall asleep so quickly since that night.

izuku midoriya

baby is up studying for a test that’s in like 2 weeks

either that or he’s on an all might video spree on youtube and no that is not the first time this has happened, it is certainly not the last

he has so many stuffed animals in his room probably, like he just has them stuffed in his closet

the all might plushies stay on the bed tho

his cuddles are unmatched tho, change my mind

izuku was pacing around his room, vocabulary words spinning about his mind as he counted them on his fingers. he was mumbling definitions to himself, going over all of them in his head before referencing his notebook to make sure nothing went wrong. amidst his ramblings, a knock at the door made him jump to attention. “come in?” he called out, watching intently as he saw you come into view. his face showed relief, grateful to know it wasn’t aizawa or kacchan complaining about his incessant pacing.

“would it be alright if i sleep here tonight? i’m worrying about my grades and stuff again,” you rubbed the back of your neck with a small smile, trying to play off your question as relaxed as you could. it wasn’t exactly a secret that you had a crush on the boy in front of you. he was kind and humble, wanting to help as many people as he could despite all the circumstances that had the world against him. it was admirable. even now, he looked so concerned from the clear lack of sleep you’ve been getting these past few days. “of course you can sleep here. ah, wait! i have to, ah,” he stumbled over his words as you looked to the bed to see not one, not even two, but four all might stuffed toys on his bed.

“oh.”

midoriya’s face erupted with crimson, shoving the plushies into his closet as he sputtered out various excuses as to why they were there in the first place. when he turned back to you, you were giggling. not at him, but because of the entire situation in general. “you’re adorable, izu,” you told him gently. a light feeling bloomed in his chest upon seeing the smile you held for him. you looked so undeniably beautiful to him, the way your hair was a bit messy and how you stood in your pyjamas. while others, including yourself, would find that you looked completely normal, midoriya loved seeing you be so casual, so comfortable around him.

“you’re sure i’m not interrupting you, though?”

midoriya returned your smile with his own, stepping forward to intertwined his scarred fingers with your delicate ones. “it’s okay,” he murmured softly, holding your hand as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him, “i couldn’t really sleep anyways.”

all works © denkamis 2021.

tags:

@meilbox @honeykami @httpfirx @strawberrysalwa @hey-i-really-miss-you @smexy-goose @satis-kei

want to be on the taglist? see this post!

[eternal-armin]

the demon you summoned

BY THE GRACE OF THE UNHOLY BEINGS I LOVE I GOT IT BACK IM SO HAPPY

the reader sold their soul to the demon [char] to accompany them across turbulent lands to the great cities, rumored to have huge markets and incredible buildings. but reader is weak and cannot protect themselves, so they instill the help of otherworldly forces.

slight fantasy au heavily inspired by insomniac production's demon armin series (i love it so much i love their work hh)

maybe i should make this an actual drabble series

───── ❝ jean ❞ ─────

༻✦༺ you summoned a demon of pride to help not only with your state of mind, but with a venture across your lands ༻✦༺ you were very unhealthy and multiple people in your village suspected you wouldn't be able to make a journey to the larger cities ༻✦༺ this was essentially your last resort ༻✦༺ you were fully prepared for jean to reject your proposal; you were willing to give up your soul just to visit the cities for one day ༻✦༺ seeing how pure your soul was, jean was more than happy to escort you to your destination ༻✦༺ along the way, jean was compassionate to you ༻✦༺ he would ask you questions and you would respond. the more he knew about you, the more he rued the time when he would have to kill you to complete the pact ༻✦༺ the way that your eyes light up when you talk about your passions and your dream to leave the one place you ever knew ༻✦༺ the way you yawned and leaned against him when you began getting tired ༻✦༺ the smile you got whenever you saw something new and went to examine it ༻✦༺ the way you would look at him when he explained what it is, astounded by the knowledge that he held, and that he was honorable enough to share with you ༻✦༺ every time he protected you from any death or injury, you thanked him. jean was unused to it at first, scoffing. then it made his heart warm every time ༻✦༺ both of you were becoming more and more nervous along the way for very different reasons ༻✦༺ when you arrived, you hugged him and thanked him one last time ༻✦༺ jean wanted to cry ༻✦༺ you were so happy he couldn't possibly ruin this for you, ever. ༻✦༺ he pulled you aside for the time you thought you were going to die. instead, he hugged you, and told you how he felt

───── ❝ sasha ❞ ─────

༻✦༺ demon of greed and gluttony, famed to expose any hidden information and protect the operator if given a good enough offering ༻✦༺ you prepared an initial offering of the best foods your village had to offer, all of which were passed down through generations ༻✦༺ she was fairly impressed to see the spread specifically for her, and so was happy to devour the majority of it while you posed the rather simple pact; in exchange for your soul, sasha would protect you during the month-and-a-half-long journey across the country ༻✦༺ for the effort sasha would be putting in, she demanded a fair amount of food and your soul, depending on its condition ༻✦༺ your soul was far more than enough ༻✦༺ sasha dreamed of you becoming part of her retinue, always with her to provide her whatever food she could ever desire ༻✦༺ your cooking skills were certainly developed enough ༻✦༺ sasha was somewhat surprised by the sheer amount of dangers you were susceptible to ༻✦༺ it wasn't entirely surprising. she wasn't usually summoned for these types of things. in fact, she wasn't often summoned at all ༻✦༺ even though sasha was constantly asking you questions, you answered with eagerness and waited patiently if she had to explain something. it was rather impressive to her honestly ༻✦༺ you would make dinner for the two of you, and while sasha ate, you often fell asleep against her shoulder ༻✦༺ seeing how comfortable you were with her was heartwarming ༻✦༺ and she hated it (for the most part) ༻✦༺ when she asked why the big cities were so important to you, you were kind of surprised that she cared ༻✦༺ she was surprised she had asked in the first place ༻✦༺ but seeing the passion in your eyes, she couldn't possibly extinguish it ༻✦༺ at the same time she still needed that soul ༻✦༺ "[y/n]. i have an important proposition. please... hear me out. you have made me feel things demons were never meant to feel. i.. i love you. i love you and i need to have you. but i need to have your soul, too. i need both and the only way i can have both is if i turn you into a demon. you- you can stay here. stay on earth, live your life. but i need to love you. i don't think i'll ever love anyone else."

───── ❝ armin ❞ ─────

༻✦༺ the demon of knowledge and strategy ༻✦༺ it was a fair idea to summon armin for passage, but not for protection. however, cunning strategy can be the perfect defense ༻✦༺ that was your point of view going into the ritual ༻✦༺ he was surprised you asked for his assistance when you could've summoned a demon of treachery to protect you, however respected your reasoning ༻✦༺ in exchange for the beautiful soul you had, he vowed to protect you across the dangerous midlands, and provide you with knowledge as to what you should avoid aswell ༻✦༺ he was like an authority figure for a while. telling you what to do and what not to do, asking you questions in the voice of a principal ༻✦༺ but you always answered those questions with warmth ༻✦༺ "i've heard stories about the outside world, especially about the cities, and about all the different people and food and everything. i wanted to experience it, even if it was just once. just once is enough." ༻✦༺ to armin, it was both heartwarming and heartwrenching ༻✦༺ he knew he was going to be the one tearing you away from the dream you loved so dearly ༻✦༺ armin was a little softer with you from then on, turning into a good friend you trusted enough to fall asleep in his lap ༻✦༺ you were so excited you couldn't sleep for a few days beforehand ༻✦༺ you asked if you could hug him ༻✦༺ when he said yes, you didn't let go for hours, and you were smiling the whole time ༻✦༺ armin was in constant internal turmoil for the next few days until the lights were within reach ༻✦༺ he couldn't do anything to take you away from here ༻✦༺ and he knew he wouldn't live long if he devoured your soul ༻✦༺ "you can grow old here, live the life you dreamed of, with everything you've ever wanted. i will give you anything you ask. and when you die, i can turn you into a demon. we can live together. all you have to do is say 'i love you too.'"

───── ❝ levi ❞ ─────

༻✦༺ the demon of war and battle ༻✦༺ for physical protection or vengeance, one of the first demons people tend to go to ༻✦༺ you treated him more with respect than fawning over him in awe, which automatically had him respect you more in return ༻✦༺ you explained professionally what you needed from him, and what he would receive ༻✦༺ you offered him both your soul, and to serve eternally under him until the last white dwarf died ༻✦༺ seeing your desperation, and your willingness to give up everything you've ever had, certainly spiked his interest in your... pathetic case ༻✦༺ he accepted the pact and you left the village in the dead of night ༻✦༺ levi was rather impressed to see a human taking care of themself well. after all of the pacts he had been in, he had developed a strong sense that all humans were rather... stupid ༻✦༺ your poised exterior would fade slightly whenever you read the yokomerfe a ohemfo, the one book you had about the outside world. it was replaced with a beautiful, childlike wonder that he felt profoundly drawn to ༻✦༺ he would gaze at you the entire time you read by campfire light ༻✦༺ why the everloving hell is he finding a human beautiful in any capacity ༻✦༺ the more levi got to know you, the more intrigued he became ༻✦༺ not just in the life of a human, but in you specifically, and he had no idea why ༻✦༺ he realized why soon after but didn't want to accept it ༻✦༺ however, the way it made him feel...? he couldn't just forget it ༻✦༺ he wouldn't be able to live with himself if he took your life and your freedom from you for eternity ༻✦༺ so the day before you arrived, he brought it up ༻✦༺ "i do not wish to complete this pact. i wouldn't be able to live with myself if i had to take away your soul and make you a servant. i'm doing neither. you can live your human life, and you can choose whether to die and go to heaven, or to live forever as a demon by my side. if you go to heaven, i cannot exist without you by my side."

[softykooky]

Sanctuary: Four

summary: your favorite color is yellow. taehyung’s favorite color is red. your favorite flowers are peonies. you still haven’t asked taehyung what his are. 6.8k words.

genre: mafia au, angst, ot7 x reader

warnings: graphic descriptions of violence, verbal/physical abuse (not from members), blood

author’s note: i love seeing all your messages so much!! even if i don’t post a reply, please know that it does not go unseen or unappreciated. it makes me smile every time :) i hope you guys enjoy! 

one   two   three 

       It had become a lonely routine for you to wait until everyone in the house was asleep to roam the vast halls and pretend that it was only you. It was relieving. To not be in constant fear of your father lurking around the corner or the pretense you had to keep with Soyeon, as much as you loved your sister. It was nice to pretend for a while. Until the sun inevitably came up and you retreated back into your room. 

       You padded to the kitchen quickly, keeping an eye out for any spare family members or butlers that hadn’t gone to bed yet. It was moments like these that needed to be romanticized. So every night, you pretended it would be the last night you get to feel cool marble tile under your feet. The last night you could dance in the quiet of the kitchen with no one watching. The last night you could make a grilled cheese while everyone was asleep and eat it all by yourself. The last night you could just be, with no regard to space and time. No thoughts, and no pain. No mom and dad and Soyeon. That was how you found your happiness in this home. 

       You flipped the spatula gingerly, bursting into a rare smile at the sight of a perfectly golden brown slice of bread. Nothing calms a soul quite like grilled cheeses do. Your mind drifts to Jin’s face when he came to retrieve your plate one day, only to find that the grilled cheese he had made was devoured and the plate was licked clean. Your’s wasn’t even half as good as his was. Maybe it was the type of cheese or the butter. Or maybe the smile that came with it every time he appeared outside your door. 

       You snapped out of your reverie at the sound of uneven footsteps thudded from outside the kitchen. Your blood ran cold as your father, clutching a bottle of vodka to his chest, stumbled into the room and locked eyes on your figure. He smirked smugly and took another swig. 

       “Well if it isn’t my pet. What are you doing out of your cage so late?” His words slurred together and you almost wouldn’t have understood if it hadn’t been for the years of practice you’ve gone through in deciphering your father’s intoxicated words. 

       “I’m...nothing. I’m not doing anything.” It had been a feat for you to even speak up in his presence.

       You’re weak, Y/N. Weak and scared.

       He chuckled darkly. “Yes, that’s right. You always do nothing. You are nothing.” Something inside of you stretched thinly, so close to snapping but not quite as it fought to hold on. Your body shook with the anger and frustration you were not allowed to feel all those times before. All those times he belittled you and made you feel like you were not worth the air that you breathe. 

       “You know sometimes I wonder about just shipping you off somewhere and giving Soyeon the company instead.” He drawls, still nursing the bottle as if it were his baby.

       “But god knows that nitwit would spend the entire fortune on new shoes.” Your hands still clutched the spatula as they shook with anger, yet you stayed silent. 

       “You never did tell me what you did to land in the hands of Bangtan, dearest daughter. Enlighten me. Why would they take you, worthless as you are, in?” He leaned against the table on two elbows, face coming to rest on his hands as he glared at you coldly, smiling even wider at the sight of your teary eyes and quivering stature. 

       “You must’ve made a good whore for them then.” 

       Snap.

       “Do you enjoy looking in the mirror when you see the despicable monster staring back at you?” Your words almost rolled off your tongue uncontrollably. You hadn’t the heart to feel regret for them yet, just staring at your father as his eyes sharpened and he sat up straighter. He wasn’t used to your defiance. 

       “No wonder Mom fucking despises your presence and leaves whenever she gets the chance. You’re repulsive.” In the back of your head, something was screaming at you to stop talking. To shut up and take the brunt of it like you always do, until he fell asleep and you could retreat to your room. But you had been holding in anger for far too long to feel sorry.

       Your father stood up slowly, hands still glued to the glass bottle as his smirk widened in realization of what you had just done. Rarely had you ever talked back to him, much less insult him like you did. Your heart dropped as his chuckles morphed into a full sadistic laugh that bounced off the walls of the kitchen. He looked at you with an intensity you had never seen before and spoke. Deathly calm.

       “Oh, Y/N”, he stalked closer to you, still separated by the marble kitchen island but you still instinctively took a step back. 

       “I’m going to enjoy beating that attitude out of you.” 

       It was a game of moves and countermoves. Each step he took towards you, you took one back. And in the vast kitchen of your family home, it was easy to put distance between you. Easier when he was completely off his rocker after drinking an unholy amount of vodka. 

       “I-I’m sorry, Dad. I didn’t mean it. You don’t have to do this.” Your voice shook as you tried to placate your father, who had rage swirling in his eyes at the sight of you. He said nothing. Only laughing in response. 

       “You’re drunk. Please.” God, Y/N. You and your big mouth. You knew this would happen. 

       With alcohol impairing his senses, it was easier for you to predict his moves and get out of the way more quickly. As he lunged at you with a shout, you dodged out of the way and ran to the other side of the kitchen, heart thundering in your chest. You hadn’t expected him to chuck the heavy vodka bottle at you, clocking you in the temple with a painful thud as you crumpled to the floor. The glass shattered in half at your feet. The familiar warmth of blood trickled down your forehead. Slow footsteps made their way towards your weak form.

      Your father knelt down and gripped the collar of your sweater, pulling your head up from the floor. Your vision was blurred from the pain. 

       “You. I do so much for you.” He slaps you across the face, one hand still clutching your collar. You almost hadn’t noticed the hit in your dazed state. 

       “I give you a roof to live under. Food, clothes, money.” He emphasizes each word as he says it, correspondingly slamming your frail body to the hard floor. You couldn’t breathe as he knocked the air out of your lungs, only helplessly staring up at him through teary eyes. 

       “And this is how you thank me? You ungrateful brat.” 

       Your face contorted to an expression of fury. Damn the consequences, you wanted to fight back. And if he hits you twice as hard for it, then you would pay that price. You reached up and swiped your nails across the plane of his face, relishing in the thin strips of blood that immediately appeared afterwards. His shock gave you time to get out from underneath him. 

       Your father touched his cheek and pulled back to find the palm of his hand smeared in red. It seemed as if that sobered him up completely, expression turning calm and dark. You watched him in half-satisfaction and horror, anticipating his next move.

       He slowly bent down and picked up the half broken vodka bottle that laid haphazardly at his feet, clutching the neck with a white-knuckled fist, face completely devoid of any human emotion. The shattered bottle was jagged at the end he was currently pointing at you, its edges spliced dangerously and glinting under the harsh light overhead. You had two hands raised in front of you, like a zookeeper attempting to pacify an overzealous animal. 

       It only took a slight distraction of his roaring laughter and the shock of his approaching speed towards you for you to let your guard down. You reacted just a millisecond to slow, and the sharp end of the broken battle was swiped across your abdomen, so quickly you almost hadn’t felt the searing pain that made you want to faint right there and then. Like flames licking on your skin. Your hands came up to clutch the bleeding wound that had already drenched through your clothes. Your knees buckled as you collapsed once again on the floor, leaning on the wall for support. Just keep pressure. Keep pressure and you won’t bleed out. Your breaths came out in pained gasps.

       The bottle met the floor with a shattering sound that was far too delicate after what it had done to you in the hands of your father. Like a predator to its already injured prey, your father approached you to come in for the kill. To finish the hunt. His shaking hands gripped onto your neck, so small and thin in his grasp that you were scared it would just break with the slightest pressure. If this was to be the way you left this world, you would make sure he remembered every second. You spat out the blood in your mouth onto his face, grinning in delight as droplets stung his eyes and splattered over his face. He squeezed your neck tighter.

      “You know, I could always make it look like an accident if I killed you here.” His eyes maniacally stared into your’s as the air was suddenly stolen from your lungs, both from his hands and his words. You clawed at the arms that held you to the wall, desperate for some relief.

      “Could leak to the press that your car crashed somewhere. No one would even question it.” 

       Stay awake, Y/N. Fight back. You wanted to. You wanted to fight tooth and nail but all you could focus on was the blood that was seeping out of your stomach and the burn in your lungs as you worked to keep your consciousness. But his grip was so tight and so painful. His bark as stinging as his bite.

       Your father’s hands left your throat abruptly and you gulped in air. Who knew oxygen could taste sweet? You keeled over on the floor, coughing out the pain in your throat and trying to ground yourself. There’s a warm hand on the small of your back, though. Impossibly warm and spanning the entire length of your midsection. It caresses you so softly you almost hadn’t noticed it was there. It pulls you closer across the cold floor into a wide chest and you wonder if you had really died and this was an angel to take you away from such a cruel world. An angel to take you to sanctuary. 

       The angel has such a familiar face when you turn around to meet his eyes though. He looks eerily identical to a certain boy named Taehyung, and his face is creased in worry as your words are stolen from your tongue. The pain reverberating through your body makes it hard to speak, and even harder to stay awake. 

       “Y/N? Don’t go to sleep, just stay for a second longer.” Taehyung didn’t know what to do. Jin was the one who had medical training, not him. He could only stare flabbergasted as your face went impossibly pale and your whole body shook. He looked down at where you still held your midsection, where your hand was completely drenched in red and blood began to pool around where you lay.

       “Hyung! S-She’s bleeding out!” Tears welled in his eyes in sheer panic and desperation, enveloping his own hand over yours to apply more pressure, sorry’s tumbling from his lips when you winced at the pain. 

      Namjoon looked over to the two of you as the rest of the boys dealt with restraining your father. With more force than necessary. Jungkook made sure bruises would be left behind, his anger communicated in the way he held your father down. 

       “Taehyung”, you whispered so lightly as your body objected to the pain of talking. His eyes snapped to your’s, a hand coming up to cradle your face gently. Namjoon appeared at your other side, examining your wounds and frantically yelling at someone over the phone that he shakily held to his ear. 

       “Don’t kill him. Don’t kill my father.” Your voice cracked and you cried both in relief and worry about what was to happen next. Even after this, you didn’t want your father to die. At least not yet. Not before you got the chance to talk to him. 

       “We won’t,Y/N.” Taehyung smiled down at you in his arms to distract your sadness. “Once you’re all better, you can do that yourself, yeah?” You tried your best to return his smile, managing a slight curve of your lips as a shaky breath left your lungs. Taehyung’s eyes widened as your’s began to droop and your breathing had become shallow.

      “Y/N, please stay awake. What’s….What’s your favorite color?” He stammered, slightly nudging you so you wouldn’t drift off. You wanted to laugh at the question, but couldn’t bear to. 

       “Yellow.” 

       “Good, good. Mine is red. What’s your favorite flower?” Taehyung would look back on this later and want to slap himself for asking you such mundane questions while you were oozing blood on your kitchen floor. But it was all he could think of to make sure you stayed awake for as long as you could. 

       You groaned in pain, deepening the furrow in Taehyung’s brow. “Peonies”, you whispered lightly, your voice slowly fading away. You couldn’t find the energy to talk anymore. Or breathe without feeling sharp pain. 

       For once, you felt safe to leave behind your consciousness and fall into the sleep you tried to fight. Safe and warm. Was it his arms that had made you feel that way? Or knowing that they were all there and that your father couldn’t hurt you anymore at that moment. You closed your eyes, the last thought on your mind being regret. You hadn’t stayed long enough to find out what his favorite flower was as well. 

       With the pained sounds of your father in the background as the others threw hit after hit, the two boys at your side could only stare at each other with your limp body in between them, praying to whatever power was up there that they could get you back to the manor quickly enough. That their mistake wouldn’t have cost you your life. 

      “Where’s Y/N-ie? Where is she? There she is!” You erupted into contagious giggles as your father pried the peekaboo hands off your chubby face. 

       “I almost lost you! Where did you go?” An airplane in the form of a spoon piled high with mashed peas made its way to your mouth, your father making whooshing sounds as he expertly slotted it between your lips. You never liked peas, even as a toddler, face twisting sourly and spitting up the majority of the food you just had been fed. 

       He smiled at you fondly, caressing your palm-sized head in his hand. You smeared the spit up food over your bib and table, somehow managing to get it in your hair as well. A warm chuckle bubbled from his chest.

       “Come on, love. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

       You woke up on a cold bed with a sharp inhale, wanting to scream but somehow not able to make a sound. There were so many people. So many voices talking at once that it sounded like no one was talking at all. You tried your best to enhance your wavering focus. 

“Jungkook, grab the bandages.”

“She’s opening her eyes. Grab me another morphine syringe.”

“Y/N? You need to calm down. Everything is going to be alright.” 

       You couldn’t make out the other voices but the last one was familiar. It belonged to Jungkook, and you blindly reached a hand out for anyone that would be willing to hold it. He gripped back with a fervent intensity, squeezing your fingers as if to let you know:

       I’m right here. You’re safe with me. 

       You groaned at the searing pain in your stomach, and the thundering ache that throbbed in your head. It was as if you could feel every cut on your skin, every drop of blood that spilled, and every nerve cell that screamed in agitation. God, you hoped that the morphine someone was talking about would kick in soon. You opened your eyes wider at Jungkook’s face that had appeared above you, like an angel shrouded in white light, and exhaled at the sight. He looked so beautiful, you couldn’t imagine how beat up you looked right then. You were always damaged goods. Bruised and imperfect. You let yourself fade away once again. 

       “I don’t have time for you right now, Y/N. I’m busy.” Your younger self deflated at your father’s rejection, hanging your head in disappointment and trodding to the door of his office. You never objected or cried anymore in front of him. He always said how he hated it, and you wanted to do your best to not upset your father. 

       “Actually, Y/N?” You turned around as the smile grew on your cheeks, ready to excitedly tell him about your day and the test that you aced.

       “Make sure you rehearse your piano piece for tonight, it’s going to be televised. And tell the maid to set out your dress early. We don’t want to be late.” 

       Your father had spared you a tight-lipped smile and eye contact before he resumed his incessant typing on his computer, stressed-out expression permanently etched on his face. The hope that had sprouted in your chest withered away as soon as it came, and you could only nod back to him, not trusting your voice to respond without cracking. You couldn’t pinpoint when he had gotten so cold, but his old self would come back soon, you were sure of it. He would love you again like he did before and you all could be one big happy family. 

       You realized later that night, that perhaps the version of your father you were desperately hanging on had ceased to exist. You practiced your solo like he had said, perfecting each glissando and enunciating each arpeggio until your fingers ached. But there had been so many people and so many cameras. It was your father’s critical stare from across the concert hall that had caused your misstep, and the discordant notes as your hands tripped over themselves. 

      You were punished for it by the wrath of a folded up belt in the palm of his hand. He made you change from your concert gown into a thinner camisole, so that your skin could feel each thwack of leather. So that you could feel how angry he was at you through each strike. You wanted to tell him that you were sorry. That you loved him. You wanted to ask him why he was doing this when you already knew you messed up. But you wouldn’t cry and you wouldn’t object or scream. He always said how much he hated it. 

      “Hyung, she’s awake.” 

      Your eyes shot open, shaking in panic as you tried to adjust to the harsh fluorescent overhead and looked around the room. It hurt to breathe and to move. In fact, you couldn’t even do the latter. 

       “It’s okay. You’re safe.” Jin looked into your scared eyes and slipped his hand into yours, squeezing as tightly as he could to ground you from your oncoming panic attack. Your heartbeats slowed down as he continued to hush you and held onto your hand as if it was a lifeline. Or maybe that was you that was holding on so tightly, you couldn’t tell. 

       You were in a white room. Not the same one that they had thrown you in when you arrived the first time. Not as cold and bleak….and that of course had nothing to do with the boy that was besides you gripping your hand as if he was afraid you would disappear otherwise. There was a strong scent of antiseptic permeating through the air, so heavy you wanted to choke on it. You always hated it. It brought up too many memories you wished to forget. Your eyes darted across the space. 

      Hoseok had been sitting on the chair in the far corner, running a hand through his messy hair and looking like he hadn’t slept in a couple days. You were surprised he was even here to begin with. Last time you talked, he called you many not so nice things before they shipped you back to your father. Jin sighed sadly and your gaze met his again, clearly distressed and welling with unshed tears. 

      “Your windpipe was almost crushed. That’s probably why you have some trouble trying to talk, too.” The scene flashed through your eyes again. You were on the floor and he had been choking the life out of you. Before they came to save you. You passed out and now you were here. 

       “I expect you to make a full recovery, Y/N”, Jin smiled gently. He flipped through a patient clipboard, scribbling down notes you couldn’t see from where you were laying. You pushed through the pain to speak. 

       “Where’s my father?” You recoiled in shock at the sound of your own voice, reminiscent of someone who had been smoking since they came out of the womb. Hoseok eagerly stood up from his seat and handed you a glass of water, which you thankfully took and drained the entire thing. The boys seemed downtrodden after your question, glancing at each other and looking far too uncomfortable. 

       “I’ll let Namjoon explain later, love. You should rest now.” You tried to look away to hide your blush at the pet name he had unconsciously used. It was odd. They had been so cold when you came here the first time, and now he was calling you love and looking after you.

       Don’t get your hopes up Y/N, it’s just guilt. 

       Jin left the room after checking on the white bandages wrapped around your stomach, which you had completely forgotten was even injured among the chaos. You could already see the ugly scar that the bottle was going to leave behind, internally groaning at a new mark you could use to remember your father by. You shut your eyes to attempt to get some more sleep, but felt a presence in the room. You hadn’t noticed that Hoseok never left, and was still sitting there on a chair that did not look comfortable. He caught your gaze and blushed.

       “I’m uh….I’m staying here. Just to make sure you need anything.” If it weren’t for your messed up throat, you would have giggled at his stammering cuteness. The way he nervously played with his fingers and avoided eye contact with you. It was hard to believe this was the same man that wanted to kick you out of the house the second they brought you back. 

       It felt safe, though. To have him there, watching over you so that nothing bad would happen. Hoseok didn’t make any noise or attempt to start any conversation, even if you couldn’t say anything back to him. He just sat there with you, albeit too far away for your liking, watching over you like a guardian angel. It didn’t feel awkward. Just warm. But surely all of this was only temporary, because warm and comforting things never lasted for a person like you. Perhaps they had done nothing to your father. Perhaps he would come after you and Bangtan would be forced to let you go. 

       However, as you sat in the peaceful silence of each other’s presence, admiring Hoseok in the sunlight coming through the window, you would feel alright if this was only temporary. 

      It had felt like you were their prisoner again. Except the door wasn’t locked, it’s always wide open. Jin would periodically come and go to give you food and water and fresh clothes, and you were just there. Sitting passively and staring into space most of the time. The other boys hadn’t made any active attempt to talk to you, and you wondered if it was because of the overwhelming guilt or if it was just because they didn’t care. Even though there was a familiar poetry book on your meal tray yesterday, you couldn’t bring yourself to open and read. You wouldn’t allow yourself to indulge in such things, because the boys were not your friends. They would kick you out once you’ve healed. You wouldn’t let yourself get attached again. 

       Jin tried to hide his wince as he unraveled the bandages around your middle, eyeing the nasty wound and mutilated skin with guilt swimming in his eyes. Times like these, you just stayed quiet and looked away at the window, refusing to see the marks that your father has left on you. You didn’t notice the tears that made their way down your cheeks until you felt Jin’s soft hands wiping them away. 

       It was easy. Too easy to fall into his chest and sob a part of the pain out. As for the rest of it, you reckon it’ll stay with you for the rest of your life. It felt good, though. To have someone hold you with no questions asked and no hollow statements of sympathy. Jin had wrapped you in his arms so tightly and tucked your head under his chin, like a shield from the rest of the world that has tried to hurt you so many times. 

       “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” 

       You couldn’t count how many times he had repeated it to you. Nor had you noticed the quivering in each word as he whispered them in your ear. But you could feel their sincerity, through each breath and pause and the way his hands pressed you against the wide expanse of his chest. You couldn’t find it in yourself to tell him that it was okay, or that everything was forgiven, because that wouldn’t be true. Nothing was okay and the sky seemed to be falling. You didn’t know what your father would do now or what had happened after you passed out at the house. You didn’t know if Soyeon knew where you were or if she even noticed. You didn’t know where you would go after the dust settles down. But right then, at that moment, Jin had held you. And even if everything you were facing felt uncertain...

He hadn’t. 

       “Aren’t you gonna go in, Y/N?” Jungkook and Yoongi stood next to you, switching glances between your figure and the door of your assigned bedroom/ex-holding cell. You could only stare at the wood, tracing your eyes over and and the padlock that remained drilled on to the oak pane. Jungkook exhaled in realization, turning you gently by the shoulders to face him. 

       “You’re not our hostage anymore. I promise.” 

       You hesitantly looked up at him, nodding and turning back to the entrance. You weren’t their prisoner anymore. There was no need to worry. You took a deep breath in and turned the doorknob, swinging the door open and revealing the room exactly as you had remembered it. The bed was neatly made. There was a stack of clothes neatly piled on top of the mattress. And on the nightstand, a tall glass vase filled with pink and white peonies. Your favorite. 

       Yoongi noticed your gaze stuck on the flowers, and gingerly walked to your side. “Taehyung uhh...said they were your favorite. We thought you would like them.” 

       You remained quiet, only staring at the bouquet and running your fingers through a soft petal, so delicate you were scared it would fall into pieces at the slightest touch. 

       “I mean they’re stupid anyway. It was a stupid idea, I should have-” 

       “I love them. Thank you so much.” You cut off Yoongi’s rambling, looking back at both of the boys with a warm smile on your cheeks, skin gaining color again after the incident. You turned around to admire the flowers some more. 

       Jungkook fixed his gaze on Yoongi, noting the pink tint on his cheeks that wasn’t there before. He would have teased him for it had it not been for the same blush that was painted on his own. The boys looked at each other as you held a peony up to your nose, oblivious of the turmoil you had caused behind you with just a smile and a few words. If words could be communicated through a look shared between two smitten people, Jungkook and Yoongi’s conversation would have sounded something like:

       Oh fuck. We’re in trouble.

       “We’re needed in the meeting room, Y/N. Are you ready?” Jungkook coughed awkwardly as the comfortable silence was broken between the three of you. You looked at him confusedly.

       “Namjoon wants to update you. On everything.” Your eyes widened in realization. You set the single bloomed peony down on the nightstand, glancing back to the two boys who could sense your tension from across the room. 

       “What do you mean you left him there?” You practically yelled, your throat objecting to every strain and voice coming out raspy even after the days of recovery, which felt like years with the way all seven of the boys avoided answering any of your questions as if it was the plague. A plague called: Seokjin would have skinned them alive if they caused you more distress when you hadn’t mostly healed yet. 

      Namjoon sighed, disappointment at himself reflected in his gaze towards you from across the wide briefing table. Since you had been cleared to get out of bed, Bangtan had thought it proper to give you a seat at their meeting room, with your very own spinning chair. 

       “We couldn’t do anything after we beat him up. We put a tail on him, though, to track his every move. As much as we wanted to bring him back, your father is a powerful man, Y/N. We are too, but he’s a high government official.” You slumped in defeat, not as confident as you were before. You thought he was in custody somewhere, not still free to do whatever he wanted. He was still in a position to get you back, which would mean imminent death. Yoongi seemed to read your expression perfectly. 

       “Don’t worry, Y/N. We won’t let him have you again.” Again. That had been an awkward sore spot with you and the boys. You all had unspokenly decided to completely ignore it. How easily they had betrayed you and handed you over the first time, writing you off as an ignorant brat. Even after all your assurances that you were not angry at them, they were still convinced they needed to do more to redeem themselves. You smiled at Yoongi warmly, and he tried to quell the thudding heartbeat that annoyingly pounds at the mere sight of you. 

       “So what do we do now?” The boys made eye contact with each other at your question, seemingly as clueless as you were.

       “I strategize that we just wait. Our headquarters are stationed here, this is where we are safest and strongest. Let’s wait for his move and prepare ourselves as best we can.” Hoseok speaks up from two seats away from you.

       “But it’s your call Y/N. Whatever you think is best.” You nodded, staying quiet and looking at the mahogany table in front of you, analyzing your own reflection in the shiny and polished wood. 

       “I think”, you started, catching the attention of the crew as they awaited your executive decision. “We all need a very good night’s sleep. Don’t you?” You stood up from your chair slowly, body still sore and rickety. You reached out for Jimin to help you waddle to your room, which he gladly obliged. 

       “Come on, boys, I can practically see you dozing off in your chairs.” 

      Maybe it was the way you laughed when you said it, looking back at them with expectant eyes and a kind smile on your lips. The way they had someone to care for them in such a mundane way as wanting to make sure they got enough sleep. The sound of your voice fluttering around the cold house that felt cozier with just the power of your presence. The feeling of having someone to protect. As they stared at you, damaged and hurt as you were, something collectively bloomed in their chests. With just a glance towards one another, the seven of them knew. They would keep you safe. For as long as you would let them. 

       “Are you sure you don’t need anything else, Y/N?” Jimin fussed over you smotheringly, tucking and retucking the thick blanket around your frail figure as if one loose thread in the fabric would put you at risk. You rolled your eyes affectionately. 

       “Jimin. You’re going to give yourself a hernia if you keep this up. I’m fine. See?”

       Yes, he had seen. You were still bandaged across your waist, the wounds from the glass bottle taking exceptionally long to heal, even after the stitches. You hadn’t needed stitches on your temple, just an obnoxious bandage. The neck cast had come off, but Jimin could still see the rings of purple and black bruises that lined your skin, stoking the fire of his anger each time he caught sight of it and remembered the scene of your father’s hands squeezing the life out of you. 

       “Don’t look at me like that, Jimin. It’s just a little injury. I’ll be back to shape in no time.” You grinned cheekily, shooing his hands away from trying to fluff up your pillow that in no way needed any more fluffing. 

       He was confused at that. How you pretended to be fine even after everything. They could all see the pain in your eyes and hear it in your words each time you talked about your family. 

       “Okay, fine. Just yell if you need anything.” You nodded.

       “Wait don’t yell, your vocal chords are still healing, just knock on the wall very obnoxiously.” You nodded again.

       “Wait don’t knock you could hurt yourself, just-”

       “Jimin.”

       “Yeah, okay, goodnight Y/N.” He let himself out the door, glancing back at you one last time with something fond in his eyes. He left the door ajar by a centimeter, so that a little light could flood in through the crack. You had expected the familiar clicking sound of a lock to keep you from escaping. But there was none. No lock and no keys assigned to each boy to open your bedroom. You drifted off to sleep with the help of Jin’s prescribed pain medicine. You thought of Soyeon. Your mother. Your father. And the face of seven boys who you had grown unreasonably close to in the short amount of time. 

       Namjoon had been treading sleepily to his bedroom when he had heard you. At first, he shrugged it off, thinking it was just the house settling or a distant breeze. But as he approached closer to your door, he could hear it more clearly. Your distressed whimpers and slurred mumbles. Namjoon quietly opened the door and peeked inside.

       You were tossing and turning on the bed, hands fisting the sheets so tightly your knuckles turned white. Your expression was pained, eyebrows scrunching in discomfort as you dreamed. Namjoon’s heart twisted in his chest. He hadn’t even thought of the fact that you would get bad nightmares, and how they must be even heightened after this. You had seemed strangely fine after they brought you back to their home, never showing more weakness than you had to. You hadn’t even mentioned the injuries. Now you were probably reliving everything while you were supposed to be peacefully sleeping.

       Namjoon leaned down over you, careful not to invade your space. “Y/N, wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” You hadn’t budged, still drifting off in your unpleasant dream. 

       “Y/N?” You had stilled, expression still creased in a frown but no longer rustling. He hadn’t noticed that your hand was gripping tightly onto his until he moved to walk away. For a moment, he thought you had woken up, but the even rise and fall of your chest and light snores that escaped your lips indicated you were still deep in sleep. He sighed, opting to sit down on the rug besides your bed, still keeping your hand encased in his own. 

       It was comforting. To feel the warmth of your skin. To run his thumb over your pulsepoint and feel the rhythmic beating. To hear each breath as it made its way through your chest. Namjoon felt his eyelids getting heavier and heavier by the second. He hadn’t even noticed himself falling asleep, only focused on the weight of your hand in his.

       You woke up feeling still as tired as you were when you went to bed. Your skin was sticky with sweat, uncomfortably rubbing against you and making you far too hot. You flicked the thick blanket Jimin had insisted on trapping you under and relished in the cold air that rushed in to lick at your skin. A snoring sound reverberated impossibly loud in the once quiet room. You froze with fear, snapping your head so quickly to the source of the sound you were surprised you didn’t get whiplash.

       It was Namjoon. Curled up in the fetal position on your rug with a decorative couch pillow under his head, snoring away without a care in the world. The sight made you coo, heart melting at the sight of a grown man sleeping so innocently. He was always so focused on his work. So caught up in the stress of running his gang. You wondered how often he actually got good sleep. It was as if he could feel your stare, and opened his eyes to meet your’s.

       “What are you doing down there, Namjoon?” 

       Wow, he could get used to the sight of you after he woke up every morning, bedhead and all. Even if his view was from an uncomfortable floor. Namjoon coughed in embarrassment, promptly standing up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

       “You, uh...You had a nightmare last night. I came to check on you and then you wouldn’t let go of my hand.” You blushed meekly at his words, a smile growing on your lips as you looked at him fondly. 

       “So, you stayed with me?” You gazed up at Namjoon in wonder, heart threatening to burst at his unexpected act of care towards you. He nodded shyly, scratching the back of his neck as he always does when he’s nervous and awkward. You could feel your eyes tearing up again, wanting to laugh at yourself for being so pathetic and crying over the smallest things. But he had been so ready to stay by your side, even when you were asleep and out of it. You couldn’t remember a time when someone cared enough to do that for you. 

       You stood up out of bed and stood in front of Namjoon. His mouth slightly dropped in shock as he felt your arms weakly wrap around his shoulders, his arms still hanging by his side. 

       “Thank you.” 

       He felt your breath fan over his ear, so soft and delicate. You sniffled, trying to hide your tears from him. Namjoon held you closer to him, pressing you against his chest with the least amount of pressure so as to not aggravate your injury any more. You had felt so small and snug in his arms, he wanted you to stay there forever. He felt a single tear drop drip onto his clothed shoulder, seeping through the fabric of his shirt, and he held you even closer. 

       The door to your room opened with a smack, revealing a huffing Hoseok, and the two of you jumped away from each other, respectively blushes dusting your cheeks and putting on an inconspicuous facade. Hoseok graciously decided to ignore what he had seen. He would tease Namjoon for it later, there was  something more pressing at hand. 

       “What’s wrong?” Namjoon waited for Hoseok to catch his breath, but noted the ways his eyes flickered worriedly to you and the sounds of his men clambering downstairs. Your heart thudded in anticipation at the solemn look Hoseok had on his face, suddenly wanting to empty the contents of your stomach and faint all in one go. You had a feeling you knew what his next words were going to be about.

       “It’s your father Y/N. He’s on his way here.” 

Taglist: @pinkyhim​, @deolly​ , @drunkzseok​, @hope122598​, @uwunamjoon​, @nomimits7​, @bubblebunnylia​, @aquaalanah, @juliie-ocha, @daydreambrliever​, @btsbabby​, @blank-et-noir, @myheartstaysinkorea, @rosiethefairy​, @tiredjedi, @lovemyself-persona​, @jeoncookie-bts​, @annoyingpessimist​, @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh , @btstxtgenre​, @taesugaar​, @hxsxxk-180294​, @bubbletae7​, @uglyratlmao​, @hopetookmysoul​, @supertweetycherry​, @loveyoongles​

[jordanstrophe]

Going Once, Going Twice, part 4

I kid you not, I have re-written this 3 TIMES. I hope I didn’t overlook something *I’m excited to write the next one though*

CW: Whump, Pet Whump, Trauma, Manhandling, Panic Attacks, Anxiety, Restraints, Implied Abuse

Masterlist

Robert pulled up to his home, he glanced at the boy in the back of his truck. Poor thing was exhausted... He was fast asleep in the back, bundled up in his coat with his shackled wrists. He really should have taken those shackles off, but after getting his shoulder bitten, he didn’t want to scare him anymore, or risk losing a finger.

He opened the door as quietly as possible, and gently lifted him in his arms. He didn’t even stir as he was carried into his house. It was one story with a basement, even after his inheritance, he refused to move, as he always loved this place. He only fixed it up a bit and installed a nice kitchen for all his cooking dreams, it was also next to a childhood friend as well, so bonus points. 

He unfortunately didn’t have a spare room, so he was just going to tuck him up in his own bed, and crash in his favorite recliner and call it a night. He pushed open the door to his bedroom with his foot, accidently jostling the man in the process, who slowly blinked to awareness. His eyes shot open. 

Wait, where was he? Was he being carried? Who was carrying him?! 

He let out a yelp, trying desperately to kick his way out of the man’s grasp. “Woah there!” Robert called, as Peter managed to kick his feet out from his arm, but Robert kept a firm hold on his chest. His feet hit the ground and he tried to slink out of the man’s arms, but Robert’s strength kept him held against his chest.  

“Easy, it’s okay! I’m not going to hurt you, calm down!” Robert tried, as Peter cried and struggled. Finally, all the frustration and exhaustion hit him, as he let out one last desperate cry, before falling limp. 

Robert slid down onto his knees with him still in his arms, this was wrong... His first step into his home and this is how he’s being treated. He was manhandling someone who was traumatized. “I.. I’m sorry.” Robert huffed, holding the hyperventilating boy in his arms. “Sshh... It’s okay. I’m going to let you go now. I’m sorry...” He released his grasp, as Peter used whatever energy he had left to scamper away. 

The closest thing was the bed, as his instincts forced him to crawl underneath as far as he could push himself and tried to catch his breath. “Oh no no no... Sweetheart...” Robert sighed, flopping into his chest on the floor, trying to coax the boy out with an outstretched hand.

 “I know you’re scared and exhausted. Trust me, I am too. But I can’t let you sleep under there, please come out so we can get some proper rest, okay?” He knew It probably wouldn’t work, but it was worth a shot. Peter glanced back at him with fearful eyes, too upset to budge from his spot.

Peter hugged himself under the bed. He was being so so disobedient. He couldn’t believe he wasn’t yanked out and beaten half to death for his disrespect. The man paid an unholy amount for him, so why was he being so patient? He felt terrible, and cursed his behavior.

Robert wondered if he should just leave him there for the night and crash himself. But no. He had to take care of this boy now, and he wasn’t going to be lazy about it. He inched over as quietly as he could until he could reach him. He gently placed a hand on his shoulder. The most Peter could react was a very sad little murmur and a flinch. 

“Everything is okay.” He whispered, slowly pulling him closer, and closer. “Can you come out for me?’’ He soothed. Peter gave in, he was tired, and scared, and knew all the man had to do was grab him. 

“I’m s-sorry!” He yelled. He wasn’t going to cry, he was going to be respectful and give his master what was owed. “I’m s-so sorry! I know I’ve been t-terrible for you, I d-didn’t mean t-to... I even bit you, and that’s unforgivable!” He cursed himself.  “Oh sweetheart...” Robert muttered. “You’re not bad, you’re just scared, there’s a difference. You didn’t hurt me either, you just took a chunk out of that coat.” Robert chuckled, brushing the hair from his face. 

He took his hand, as Peter cringed, waiting for a punishment. Instead, the shackles popped off and fell away from his bruised wrists, as Robert tossed them into the trash.  “I.. But-.”  “-Sssh, no buts. It’s off to bed with you now.” He smiled. He took his hand and pulled him up into the bed.

He pushed the heavy blankets down with a knee, and laid him in the plush bed. He whimpered and looked up at him pitifully, clutching the coat to his chest tightly. “It’s alright, you can keep the coat.” Robert smiled. “I’m in the next room if you need anything. Goodnight.” He said, sitting up and turning the light off, before heading straight to his recliner, and passing out himself.  

The unwanted sun rose soon after, Robert crept over and quietly opened the door. Peter was still fast asleep, hugging the coat tightly with a peaceful expression. Thank goodness...

He pondered what to make for breakfast, it was his first morning, technically his first time meeting him too, without him being half asleep, or his teeth sunken into his shoulder... Peter had been through a lot, that much was clear. He was only going to be there for a week, not to his knowledge... But he was going to do his best to make him comfortable and happy.

He cracked some eggs and bacon onto a stove, and even decided last second to also make some pancakes.  After some time, he glanced back at the bedroom. The door was... open!?

“Peter?” Robert called, trying not to let the panic leak in his voice. He ran out of the kitchen towards the open door, but startled himself when he found Peter pressed against the wall, cowering. His face said he had just woken up, but he had some energy now, it seems his fear got turned into curiosity.

He dropped to his knees instantly, still holding the coat in his arms. “Good morning... Master.” He mumbled. It felt so wrong to call someone else master then his previous one. “Good morning.” He smiled, giving himself a moment for the adrenaline to wear off.

“Come on up off the floor. You got up at the perfect time! Breakfast is ready.” Robert lifted him to his feet and steadied him by his arm.

The kitchen was gorgeous, spotless, marble countertops, golden background, hundreds of pots, tools, equipment selectively in their place, and colorful plants lining the windowsill. There was a small table in the center, with a couple of high chairs around it. Robert was a very tall man, so the chairs were quite towering.

Peter looked up at him for confirmation, as Robert nodded with a smile. He tried to hop up onto the chair, but failed a couple of times. “Is it alright if I help you?” Robert asked, as Peter ceased his attempts with embarrassment. He nodded shamefully, as Robert took his arm and gave him a boost up. He set a plate full of delicious smelling food in front of him. He gasped, covering his mouth, glancing up and down between the food and Robert, who gave him a sweet smile. “It’s all yours.” He said.

Every bite was divine, with every bite he felt more and more guilty that he didn’t deserve it. The man paid an unholy amount for him, but was also being so patient with him.

Why?

“So! Peter, is there uhh, any hobbies you like? Something I can get for you?” Robert asked.  “Oh! I like... Being useful, I guess.. Master.” He replied. Robert stopped and glanced up at him. “It’s okay, you don’t have to call me that. It makes me feel like some tyranny.” He laughed. “Is calling me Robert, or Mr. McAllen okay?” He asked.  “O-f course. It’s whatever you prefer, Mr. McAllen.” Using his first name felt wrong on so many levels. 

“Maybe you would like to try painting, or music. I personally love woodcarving. I used to sell some awhile back.” He smiled. 

Yes, yes... He knew it was only a week. But he seemed like such a sweet young man who never got to have fun and express himself. Maybe he should run to the store and buy him a bunch of things, can’t say no until you’ve tried them all!

Oh no.

It was happening.

He was starting to bond with him

Tag list: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @moose-teeth @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @yet-another-heathen @sillypizzazineoperator @freefallingup13 @alien-octopus

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Thank you for reading!

my brain huuuurtttsss

[petrichxxr]

fateful coincidence [2] | l.jh

A/N: here I am yet again wondering if people still read the things I write... I started this series a year ago (I think) and finally have gotten around to updating it...

Word Count: 12,552

Genre: chaebol/heir!au, supernatural elements/deal with the devil, slice of life, romance (slow burn/soulmates)

Warnings: reader (fem) x lee jooheon (monsta x) pairing, mature/suggestive themes, language

Summary: Lee Jooheon is a well-known heir to a global hotel conglomerate, and is next in line to take over the family business. You’re a journalist, aspiring for more, but barely managing to pay your own bills at the end of the month. The two of you are from entirely different worlds, yet fate somehow tangles your threads, and Jooheon seems to know an intriguing amount more about you than he lets on.

You’re forgetting things.

  Like pockets of memory, it starts off small. Miniscule things throughout the day that slowly progress into more important issues. There are holes, you reach in and grasp for something that you know should be there, but nothing comes out. It’s an irritating feeling—to know that something is misplaced, forgotten, but to be unable to identify what it is. It feels as if it’s only gotten worse since the night of the hotel opening, but a part of you is suddenly aware that it’s been going on for much longer than that.

  It’s only after the event, waking up the next day with the taste of alcohol lingering, that you wonder how serious your memory displacement might be—because you realize, waking up, that it’s not even the alcohol that’s making you forget. Yet despite that, you still push everything down. You lock it and the dashing Lee Jooheon away in the depths of your mind, forcefully making yourself forget this one thing. You didn’t have the time to keep constantly turning his words over in your head, attempting to sort through the shrouded mystery that they presented. Not just that, but he was from a completely separate world—even if you allowed yourself time to do just that, he was still untouchable.

  Plus, you didn’t want to relive every single detail as you described the event to Kihyun. There were some important factors that could be conveniently left out—he had refused to talk to you for almost three days, annoyed you’d hung up on him and given him the cold shoulder that day. Despite having a job to do. But you were just as irritated in his behavior and lack of thoughtfulness the day of the event when you’d called out of work. He hadn’t bothered to check on you at all, and you had needed to get to your job. It was as simple as that, but he’d taken it out of proportion and was being childish.

  His childish behavior had dropped after the three days—after he seemed satisfied he’d gotten whatever point he was attempting to make (there was none) across, and after you got some decent recognition from Minhyuk due to the article you’d written. You tried not to consider the fact that it could have been some of Jooheon’s doing that the piece was performing so well, another thought you pushed out of your mind and locked away.

  After the hype of everything between the event and article died down, your daily routine fell back into place. Kihyun was back to his normal blunt best friend act, Minhyuk was as bossy as ever and overworked you, and your daily headaches returned.

  The daily headaches. You wonder if it has anything to do with your missing pockets of memory.

  “Are you forgetting anything?” Kihyun’s voice suddenly breaks through the slight throbbing just beyond your skull, silencing the thoughts that were just about to make everything worse.

  You glance up from your suitcase to see him entering your room, eyes scanning over the piece of paper you’d typed up. A gray cloud of fluff, fondly known to be your cat Silas, expertly weaves his way through Kihyun’s feet. Whenever he did that to you, you’d trip and fall—yet for some reason, he and Kihyun had it down to an art. No matter how much Kihyun multitasked, he was always used to the feline being just underfoot.

  Silas breaks apart from Kihyun and trots across your bedroom to you. “Hey, bub.” Smiling, you reach out and give the cat a few chin scratches. Looking up to Kihyun, you add, “I don’t think so. You’ve taken care of him before though, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  Kihyun frowns. “Not for this extended length of time, though. Does he get separation anxiety?”

  “With how much I work and am away from home, anyway? Doubtful. But who knows, he may miss my presence. Just sleep over here. I have food that’ll go bad and you still have a roommate.”

  “True. Hyungwon just sleeps, anyway. It’s not like he’ll really notice I’m gone.” Kihyun lowers the paper of instructions for caring for the flat and Silas while you’re gone on your trip, eyeing you. “Are you going to get that checked out, by the way?”

  You practically scramble to lower your hands from your neck, realizing Kihyun had spotted you attempting to massage away some of the pain throbbing at the base of your nape. He was always so watchful, it was almost annoying. You understood the headaches were something to be concerned over, but he didn’t have to nitpick so much.

  “It’s not really a work trip, nor a leisure trip. I’ll see if I have time.”

  “Still, you’ll be visiting home while you’re there. You may as well fit in a doctor’s appointment,” Kihyun pointed out, giving the paper in his hand a small wave. “Plus, you’re there a little over a week. Family matters to take care of or not, you’ll have plenty of time. Make sure to get some rest, too. Maybe you just need some decent sleep.”

  You sigh. “Yes, mother, I’ll try to.”

  The sound of Kihyun’s scoff immediately follows, along with his footsteps. Silas, who had been sprawled out on the floor this entire time, scurries away at the sudden weight reverberating across the floor that startles him out of his catnap.

  “Anyway, did you forget anything?” Kihyun asks once more, eyeing your open suitcase in front of you.

  You glance back at your suitcase, a little haphazard with the contents but sorted and all together nonetheless—you just had to figure out how to make everything fit between your checked and carry on baggage—and shake your head. “No, I think I’m good. If I do forget anything, at least I’m going home. There’s usually spare stuff available, or I can just buy it if it’s something small.”

  Kihyun frowns. “You were literally just complaining a few weeks ago about having to spend money on a dress, and now you’re saying you can just buy what you need.”

  “Well, I figure if I forget anything, it’ll be something cheap like shampoo,” you cut him a look, rolling your eyes. Not a gown, you want to say. “Anyway, let’s get some sleep. Flight leaves at two in the morning, and I’m sure that’s going to be a lovely time waking up for the both of us.”

  If possible, Kihyun’s frown deepens. As quickly as you possibly can without making any mistakes, you finish organizing your belongings between the luggage and close everything up, creating a pile to easily collect upon your departure. Kihyun bids a soft goodnight and makes his way back to the makeshift bed he’d created in your living room. You were already dreading the sixteen hour time difference and having to reset your internal clock for your visit to the States. At least all Kihyun had to do was wake up at an almost-unholy hour of the night to drop you off at the airport, then return to home and bed. You hoped sleep would come easily to you on the plane—because as the lights in your apartment are shut off and you close your eyes, the pounding of your headache seems to increase and rear its ugly head in full force—making sleep almost impossible for the five or six hours ahead of you.

—

Sleep comes, at some point—though not easily. But as long as it took to come, it ends in an even shorter amount of time. When you finally do fall asleep, it feels as though only a few moments pass before your alarm begins to go off. You groan, your head still pounding, and roll over to bury yourself further under your covers. The blaring song of your alarm does nothing to ease the throbbing within your skull, and you wonder how you’re supposed to get into an airplane and make the trip. Will the climb in altitude make your head hurt worse?

  It’s Kihyun’s groaning from the other room, followed by his annoyed stomps—that finally wakes you. He silences your phone alarm before abruptly pulling your covers off you, making you groan again.

  “Wake up,” Kihyun orders, and you feel your shoulder shoved at. “You don’t want to be late.”

  “I don’t want to be at all…” Comes your sleepily mumbled reply.

  “We are not having an existential crisis at twelve in the morning. Get up. I will not hesitate to drag you out of bed,” Kihyun warns. “And your apartment floors are wood.”

  Letting out a sigh, you push yourself into a sitting position. Giving your eyes a rub, applying a slight pressure in hopes to ward away the throbbing headache, you drop your hands then blink a few times and allow your sight to adjust to the darkness of your bedroom.

  “You still have a headache?” You see Kihyun frown in the dark.

  “Why are you surprised? It’s a constant thing nowadays,” you sigh once more, pushing yourself to the edge of the bed. “Plus, it took forever to fall asleep. I’ll just sleep on the plane, though. Do you mind packing the car and I’ll get ready?”

  You don’t really wait for Kihyun to answer, knowing he’ll do so anyway without you having asked, moving around to collect the clothes you’d set out the evening before and heading to the bathroom. One of Kihyun’s pet peeves was being tardy, and while you lived close enough to the airport that it wasn’t a huge deal to leave a little later—it had been Kihyun’s idea to at least get there an hour and a half earlier than your flight. Which honestly made sense on any normal occasion, but the airport was sure to be a bit on the dead side considering the time of night.

  It doesn’t take you long to get ready. Your warm morning shower does nothing to ease the tension in your head—a last ditch effort you had hoped might work. By the time you’ve finished a very shortened version of your morning routine brushing your teeth, drying your hair, and applying your facial care—Kihyun already has the car packed and is pouring some food into Silas’ bowl, before pulling a hoodie on and getting ready himself. You gather the last of your toiletry items that need to be packed, and when the two of you head downstairs and you bid your farewell to your beloved feline, you stuff your toiletry bag into the top zipper of your luggage.

  Kihyun was right to urge you to leave earlier rather than later. Despite the distance to the airport, there’s a decent amount of midnight traffic due to it being a weekend. You close your eyes as he drives, the blinding city and street lights glaring against the glass window of the car and burning your pupils and head. Kihyun’s smooth operation of the vehicle makes it easy to doze off a couple of times before you arrive. While the traffic may have been on the heavier side, you still make it early, and with plenty of time to spare.

  “Make sure to tell me when you land,” Kihyun orders as he helps pull your bags out of the trunk of the car.

  “I will.” You’d be sure not to have a repeat of the hotel opening night, where he hadn’t checked in on you when you’d called out, and out of spite you hadn’t bothered to reach out to him. “Make sure you send me plenty of photos of Silas while I’m gone.”

  “He’ll be fine, he’s a cat.”

  You jut out your bottom lip into a pout. “That’s not what I said.”

  Kihyun scoffs, but reaches up to pat your head gently. “I’ll send you photos. Please try to see if you can get into a doctor while you’re there.”

  “You’re going to keep pushing that, aren’t you?”

  “As much as I possibly can,” Kihyun lowers his hand to give you a one-armed hug. “I’m going to miss pestering you. I don’t think we’ve been separated for a week since we met in college.”

  “You could just say you’re going to miss me like a normal person would.”

  “There’s no fun in that though.” Kihyun grins down at you, before nodding towards the entrance to your gate.

  Giving a small wave, you gather your luggage and head inside. In total, it takes about thirty minutes to get your bag checked, get yourself checked in for your flight, and to go through security. Just as you’d suspected, the airport is practically dead at this hour and the lines are nonexistent. However, the traffic had been enough to make a dent in the time, and you thankfully don’t have long to wait before they start calling for your gate to board. There’s exactly enough time to grab a quick pastry from a nearby coffee shop that happened to be open before making your way onto the plane when your seat section is called.

  You board the plane, stow your carryon in the overhead compartment, and then claim your seat and fasten your seatbelt. Having flown before, you stick your earbuds in your ears—figuring you’ll listen to the flight attendants’ usual spiel when the time came—but more eager to make yourself comfortable and attempt some more sleep as quickly and as soon as possible. Especially since you’d been lucky enough to snag an unclaimed window seat. This meant you were tucked away in your own little back corner, hopefully left alone for the sixteen hours ahead by whoever decided to take up being your seat partner.

  Hopefully left alone was too much along the lines of wishful thinking.

  As you stare out the window, watching workers move about below in the dark as they load and prep the plane for takeoff—you suddenly feel an uncomfortable tug on the cord of your earbud, before it’s pulled straight from your ear. You can’t help but grimace, feeling the bud tug at one of your many piercings.

  “What the hell—”

  Just as you speak up, a voice that’s all too familiar asks, simultaneously, “What are you listening to?”

  You blanch as you turn in your seat, coming face to face with none other than Lee Jooheon. He quirks a brow at you, tilting his head to the side as he inserts your stolen earbud into his own ear. You can just barely make out the dimple impressions on his cheeks, his mouth pressed into something along the lines of a smile suppressing an amused smirk.

  “How—” The word falls from your lips, empty and confused. How, what? You wonder. How did he get here? How was he on the same flight as you? How did he recognize you? Not that you’d chosen to sit too far towards the back, honestly—anyone walking into the plane after just boarding could easily recognize a familiar face with an empty seat next to them. You liked sitting toward the front-middle of planes when traveling; apparently, in this case, that was your downfall.

  “Business trip,” Jooheon just shrugs, replying simply. “Why didn’t you ever text me that night?”

  You turn away from him, pursing your lips. Text him? You briefly remembered him handing you a business card, though couldn’t remember where it had slipped off to—too many drinks made it difficult to keep track of something that small. He’d only asked for you to notify him you got home safe, anyway, so what was the big deal? His bodyguard that had escorted you home surely passed that bit of info along to him.

  Had he—a possible multimillion dollar heir—really expected you to text him, unannounced? And why would he expect such a thing?

  Copying his shrug, you glance away from him. “I lost your business card.”

  It wasn’t a lie. As much as you wanted to admit, it was easy to forget the business card and it’s whereabouts. It was easy to forget the possibility of texting him as he’d asked. With the alcohol that had coursed through you, it was easy to forget that entire night. That was something that would probably irk him if you did choose to admit it. However, what wasn’t easy to forget were his words that randomly popped into your mind and turned over in your head, playing like a broken record—Do you really not remember me?

  That, on the contrary, was something that irked you.

  What was there to remember? Had you really forgotten something? It was a question that burned into your mind, day and night, even when you attempted to suppress all thoughts of him. You tried not to allow yourself to think of the events of that day, or him. While the former was fairly easy, there was something about Jooheon himself that made the latter next to impossible. There was no way for you to fight off the burning curiosity he’d created, as much as you tried. You could forget everything but him and his mysterious words.

  “Well, we can fix that,” Jooheon’s reply doesn’t miss a beat. Before you even have a chance to react to his words, you feel your unlocked phone slip through your fingers and out of your grasp.

  “H-Hey—”

  But Jooheon is paying no mind to your protest, and you watch as he swipes out of the Spotify app on your phone to open the dialing screen. His fingers glide across your screen as he inputs his number. He even goes a step further as to open your messages and start a new text to himself—ensuring he also had your number.

  As he hands your phone back to you, you frown, feeling your jaw tense. You glance down at the screen briefly, which he’d returned to your playlist, before looking back up at him. What would he do if you blatantly deleted his phone number? A part of you felt spiteful enough to do so just for the mere fact that he had taken your phone without asking and entered his number. It’s fine, I’ll just delete his number after the flight, you decide. Even if he has my number, I can just block him.

  Whatever kind of coincidence this was—it was just that. A coincidence. Nothing more would amount after this. It was rather unlucky you were stuck here for sixteen hours with the given circumstances, but you reminded yourself that this wouldn’t be happening again, and to just suffer through it for now. But there was a small part of you that wasn’t quite convinced it was merely just a coincidence, like you hoped… his words from the hotel opening night, like a broken record, continued to replay in your mind. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something missing. Something you really had forgotten.

  “I like this song,” Jooheon comments off-hand, and you only hum in response, finally turning away. It would be an understatement to say you weren’t really in the mood to engage him. Maybe he’d only spoken up and said that because you’d been staring for so long, taking your gaze the wrong way. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to be completely lacking in common sense. Jooheon doesn’t push for more of a reply out of you, allowing the two of you to sit in silence as the rest of the flight occupants take their seats.

  It’s almost more unnerving to sit next to Jooheon without saying anything. During the hotel night, before things had gotten weird with what he’d muttered, you two had been able to freely talk without much difficulty. There was something about his energy that made it almost comfortable, yet invigorating, to be in his presence at that time. But now the invigoration has twisted and warped into an unnerving feeling. For the most part, you feel on edge—yet there’s still a high energy, a curiosity, that sparks between you. While the flight attendants review the usual plane and flying regulations, you find yourself glancing at Jooheon. The music still plays between the two of you, having not reclaimed your earbud and he having not offered to return it.

  Despite your better judgement, you’re aware of the way that the wire of the headphones rests against his shoulders, and how in normal, casual clothes—he’s actually quite broad. It’s something you feel like you should have noticed when he was dressed to the nines in a suit, yet so many suit jackets have padding you weren’t actually sure you would have trusted it. But in the simple hoodie he was wearing, you can see the breadth of his shoulders, and you’re positive it’s not because it’s oversized. He looks so simple, the outfit rounded together with some black sweatpants and a white shirt peeking out from underneath the hooded sweatshirt. So simple, and so unlike an heir or someone of his financial status. You try to ignore the fact that your brain keeps yelling at you that he looks good. It’s not important right now—or right ever, actually. Why did your mind feel the need to supply such an observation?

  You’re about to pull your gaze away from your attention on Jooheon, when you notice something as you do so—where his hand lays on the armrest, his finger taps incessantly. The tapping seems to pick up speed, even becoming more sporadic, as you feel the plane beneath you pick up speed with the takeoff. For a moment, you lose yourself in the background noise of his tapping—the tiny sound overtaking your senses and demanding your focus, a rhythmic and hypnotic thing. Don’t worry about him, you tell yourself. But there’s a part of your mind that is just too curious.

  “Are you okay?” You suddenly ask, dragging your eyes away from his fingers. The action seems to feel as though it takes slower than it should. 

  “Huh?” Jooheon blinks at you in surprise, having not expected you to acknowledge him for the rest of the flight. It’s then that he realizes what he’s doing, and he stills his hand. “Yeah, fine.”

  But when you glance down, you notice the way he grips the armrest instead—forcing his muscles to be still. You think he might start vibrating with the anxiety.

  “Are you sure?”

  Jooheon nods, though the action is terse. “I just don’t like flying.”

  “Don’t you have to do it a lot, though?” You ask, surprised. He was the heir to an international hotel chain. Wasn’t he meant to do a lot of flying? Plus, he could be considered a businessman… the idea of him not liking flying and being used to planes confuses you.

  “I—” Jooheon starts, though his words are immediately cut off as the plane picks up, pulling itself off the ground as it officially takes off. Jooheon intakes his breath sharply, the takeoff pushing both of you back against your seats. It’s not a rough takeoff, per se, but you’d definitely had smoother.

  Despite that, Jooheon isn’t handling it well. Something within you pulls toward him—an innate need to protect that you can't quite explain. It’s like a little tiny flame, you feel it stir within you and you can’t help but want to feed it. The combination of his intake of breath, and the way his jaw clenches when he closes his eyes, causes you to reach out without thinking—practically prying his hand off the armrest to take hold of it.

  You wrap your hand around his, giving a reassuring squeeze.

  Jooheon is surprised by the contact—enough so he stills for a moment, opening his eyes to peer down at your hands in curiosity—before he’s caught by surprise by something else. It’s in that moment that your hand folds around his, skin touching skin and your warmth flooding into his system through shared palms—entwining itself around every nerve—that everything stills. The sensation of everything within him simply quieting—the black, reverberating anxiety that shook at his core like a thunderous stormcloud, and the way his stomach twisted with nausea at every jerky movement the plane made. But it wasn’t just that, it was everything from that to standard stresses, a whirlwind of things that needed to be done for work, and the tormenting voices he often had to deal with within his own mind—they all just silence at your touch.

  He finds his gaze locked on your hands, confused and curious all at the same time. He’d never had this happen before. Was this something that was supposed to happen? Even if he wanted to, Jooheon feels as though he’s unable to pull away from the warmth there. Like your palms are magnetized, connected, and something he shouldn’t pull apart. There was a warmth just beneath his hand, where his skin met your skin, that he could feel building like a little fire. But instead of overtaking everything in the way that a wildfire might, Jooheon finds the warmth to be soothing. Comforting, like a warm drink that fills you up—or perhaps closer to the sensation of sinking into the warm water of a bathtub. The silence within him is a welcome sensation that he’d personally like to drown himself in, if only to escape reality for just a little bit and stay suspended where he was in that strange sensation of lulled time.

  For you, the skin to skin contact with Jooheon is scalding. You immediately feel that electricity you’d felt the night of the hotel opening shoot across every nerve in your body like a cosmos, the tiny flame you’d been curious about flare up with a vengeance. The heat that floods through your system at his contact in places you’d never even imagined—the pit of your stomach, the cavity of your chest, the back of your throat, is parching and suffocating and entirely overwhelming. It overtakes you in such a way that you feel your chest seize up, like you can’t breathe. But for some reason, you hang on to him. You wonder if you’ll start shaking from the sudden pressure that feels as though it’s been placed on your body, hyper-aware of the contact of him.

  Yet, for some reason you don’t have the answer to, nor the mind or focus to think about—despite the way his skin contact is scalding, the nerves in your body ignited and burning from his touch—you still find yourself reaching out to him during the flight. It’s almost like it’s instinctual, though you aren’t quite sure how that would even be possible. Every time you notice Jooheon tense or become physically uncomfortable, the incessant tapping of his fingertips against the arm of the seat picking back up—you reach out to him. Your touch stills the anxiety from pouring out of his body in a physical form. It always happens when there’s turbulence, Jooheon seemingly seizing up every time the plane acts up in any way. You find it an odd fear or worry to have, considering he should be someone accustomed to flying so much, but you suppose people don’t get to pick and choose what it is that they’re afraid of.

  For a good majority of the flight, Jooheon opts to leave you alone. As much as he has questions and curiosities, and a need to hear your voice, he doesn’t want to push his luck. Every time your hand finds his whenever the turbulence of the plane gets to be too much for him—everything within him stills after a shock of electricity passes through his system from your touch. It’s like that single strike flashes through his system, piercing through every bit of thick, smoky anxiety in its wake. But beyond that touch,  Jooheon doesn’t ask or prompt for much more. And as the turbulence settles the longer the sixteen-hour flight drags on, the less Jooheon feels your touch that acts as a solid comfort to him. Instead, he relies more on the music the two of you listen to together. You never ask for the earbud back, and the cord of the shared headphones acts as the main thing linking you together the more time passes.

  Jooheon only pushes his luck a little bit every time food or snacks come around. He takes these moments to chat with the stewardess, asking some questions, and pulling you into the conversation with ease. It’s then that you find yourself stuck in small chats with him as he passes you snacks, drinks, or your meal. Luckily, it’s easy conversation that—for the most part—doesn’t push any boundaries, and always has something to do with the food being passed around. Questions like, How does that taste? What’s your favorite food? And barters to trade snacks. They’re interactions that don’t require much of a thought process otherwise, just meaningless words to fill the silence and help pass the time. While most of your interactions with him up until that point had been begrudging, to put kindly, Jooheon couldn’t help but be surprised at how receptive you could actually be.

  In between conversation, you spend the flight trying to get some shut-eye in, as you had originally planned—to no avail. You aren’t sure if it’s the presence of Jooheon being so close to you, his flying anxiety, or the sensation and sounds that came with flying that make it difficult to find sleep. From the corner of his eyes, you’re unaware of Jooheon watching you nod off every now and again, unable to ignore the way your head starts to bob or fall back against the seat suddenly. At these times, you barely manage to catch just a few fleeting moments of rest, something you couldn’t quite place your finger on always stirring you back awake. 

  It’s during one of these brief moments when you stir back awake that you notice Jooheon working on a tablet. At first, you think nothing of it, wanting to go back to sleep—even though you’re almost certain it’s impossible at this point—but, then it dawns on you that Jooheon is focused and quiet, and most importantly: Working, and not bothering you. As much as you hated to admit it, you’d become accustomed to Jooheon pestering you every time you moved even an inch. His silence almost disturbed you.

  You blink a few times, blearily at first, refocusing your gaze and quietly straightening in your seat to peek a glance at the tablet. It sits in Jooheon’s lap, propped against one of his knees that he has raised and crossed over the other leg, where he drags the stylus against the screen, moving a specific item back and forth across the piece he’s working on. You can’t tell if he’s being erratic or indecisive. For a moment, though, you stare—studying what you assume to be some sort of pamphlet being put together for a hotel—before a yawn overtakes you.

  When the yawn subsides, you shift in your seat, leaning closer to Jooheon. You give his elbow a nudge on the arm rest as you peer further over his shoulder at the tablet. “There’s too much white space.”

  You bite your lip to keep from laughing when Jooheon startles in surprise at your sudden intrusion into his space—having thought you were asleep still—letting a curse in Korean slip from his mouth under his breath. Cute, you can’t help but think, offering up a sheepish smile as if to apologize when Jooheon turns his head to stare you down, his eyes screaming offense. Jooheon lets out a small sigh, turning away and lifting a hand up to pat his chest and clear his throat—attempting to settle a heart that had almost tried to jump out of his chest.

  “I can’t get this layout to work,” Jooheon says as he returns his attention to the tablet in front of him.

  You reach over the armrest, and over his arm which holds the tablet, pointing at the screen as you speak. “You should resize these things, and then move this font here, and this image here. You could also do an overlay with a neutral color to offset the layers of this.”

  As you point to what you’re talking about, careful not to touch the tablet and accidentally move something, Jooheon watchings your index finger carefully. You don’t notice the way his brows knit in focus, hanging on every word you say and carefully listening to you. You also don’t notice the way that, as you speak, he’ll find himself losing focus for just a split second to allow his eyes to flicker to your face—so close to his as you lean over the armrest—taking a fleeting moment to admire the way you seem so serious and concentrated, your eyes alight with determined focus. Jooheon glances away from you, and back down to the tablet as you speak, feeling the corners of his lips twitch with amusement. This is what you liked doing. It was the part of your job that you liked, and he could tell. A stark contrast to the night of the hotel opening, which just seemed stressful and forced on you.

  It’s Jooheon’s turn to shift in his seat, leaning closer to you as he pulls his arm back and puts the tablet on the armrest between the two of you. You feel yourself freeze slightly at the proximity, having been so focused on what you were telling him. He lifts his hand, holding out the stylus to you. You blink, glancing at him and meeting his gaze—brief enough that it makes your chest clench—before glancing at the stylus.

  “What?”

  “I’m not going to retain any of what you just said. I got a bit of it. You take over.”

  “You… want me?” You blink in surprise, glancing at the screen of the tablet, and at him again. “This seems important though. It’s for your work, I could mess it up—”

  Jooheon scoffs. “Please, if anything—I’m the one that’ll mess it up. You’re the journalism major here, I’d say you’re much more qualified.”

  “Then why are you doing this?” You ask, relenting and taking the stylus from Jooheon.

  “We acquired a hotel in Los Angeles a few months back that’s been undergoing renovation—for the line of hotels I introduced at the grand opening the other night. The one in Seoul was built from the ground up, but we’ve slowly been expanding and we took a historic hotel and made it our own,” Jooheon explains, watching as you finally touch the stylus tip to the tablet and begin to work. “Anyway, long explanation shorter—the opening for that and the reintroduction of the new management is soon, but we recently lost our marketing manager. We haven’t been able to find someone else to hire, and we’ve got deadlines to reach. I’ve been trying to help out by taking over half of the job duties from the general manager.”

  “That’s very… responsible of you.”

  “Well, this whole chain is my responsibility,” Jooheon muses. “So, yeah. But also my best friend is the GM and his ass is getting kicked. Neither of us are any good at this, we’re just good at the business portion of it.”

  The conversation falls off there, Jooheon realizing you’re focusing. Hearing he and his general manager were struggling made you feel more pressure, and you can’t help but mentally chastise yourself for stepping in and helping, despite how clearly he had been struggling. Luckily, Jooheon stays close to you as he watches you work, leaning against the armrest. You try not to focus too much on the way your shoulders touch, or the way his scent flows into your space as he delegates a little, giving you technical hotel terminology to include and add in as the pamphlet comes to life on the tablet screen and the white space that had been taking up the majority of the screen before slowly melts away. When he challenges something you do, he allows for you to explain your reasoning behind it and listens carefully as you do so. You find yourself surprised at how well he listens, and how easily it is to compromise with him on certain things.

  You two spend a couple of hours working away at the project together before determining it’s finished, Jooheon and yourself both pleased with the outcome. Jooheon is smiling with enough force that his dimples show on his cheeks, and you can’t help but find yourself smiling along with him—his happiness infectious; you’re happy he’s happy, and you’re happy to have helped. Yet even with the happiness, you find your eyes stinging because of staring at a bright screen for so long, and are acutely aware of your beloved ever-present migraine rearing its ugly head even more than it had at the start of the flight. Jooheon takes note of the way you lift a hand to pinch your nose, attempting to suppress the pain throbbing from your skull.

  “Get some sleep. I won’t bother you anymore,” Jooheon comments, lifting the tablet up briefly to give it a small wave. “Thanks for your help though.”

  “No problem,” you mumble, suppressing yawn. His thank you catches you off-guard, enough so that you lower your hand from the bridge of your nose to blink at him a couple of times. But he’s not paying attention, turning away from you to put the tablet back into a carry-on he’d had stowed underneath the seat ahead of him. You shift in your seat—away from the position which had you closer to him—attempting to make yourself comfortable again as you close your eyes.

  Sleep seems like a fever dream to you. Something you’re aware that you’re receiving, but never feeling quite satisfied from it. As if it’s there, but simultaneously not; all a figment of your imagination. You begin to doze almost immediately after closing your eyes, the migraine practically pushing you to do so, because keeping your eyes open hurt too much. The intensity of the migraine doesn’t relent, though, which has you dozing and waking just as you had before you’d begun helping Jooheon with his work. Just as before, you find yourself going in and out of consciousness, nodding off and startling awake when your head begins to bob or tip too far. You sleep in increments—none of it restful.

  Jooheon is aware of your restlessness next to him, but he’d promised not to bother you—and he has to remind himself of that. But the way your head tips and bobs makes him feel anxious for you. Especially because he could briefly recall a mention of a constant headache the night of the hotel opening, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the reason sleep wasn’t coming to you easily was because of that. Had you been serious about it? You had a dry sense of humor, which he found quite amusing, but it had him often wondering if what you said was the truth or not at certain times—and did a decent job to keep him on his toes as he attempted to figure out whether you were being serious at times.

  He gives in to listening to himself constantly telling himself that he had said he wouldn't bother you, though, after too much time passes watching your head nod as sleep attempts to overtake you. That has got to be uncomfortable on the neck… he thinks to himself, completely giving in when he watches your head fall forward a bit too far. Jooheon reaches out to catch your head, guiding it gently toward his shoulder. As he does so, he sinks lower in his seat just a bit, so your head can rest more comfortably against him. He’s a little disappointed to find that the instant calm and quiet that had overtaken him earlier during the turbulence from your touch doesn’t envelop him warmly again—he is, however, surprised to find that after a few moments pass, you shift in your seat closer to him. When Jooheon glances at you after feeling the movement, he finds you still asleep—thankfully—slumping to the side to lean towards him more comfortably, snuggling against his shoulder.

  The way you nuzzle against him has him tensing in surprise—a heat pooling in the pit of his stomach. The action from you and the heat he feels overtake him with a sudden ferocity are familiar. Too familiar. A type of hunger he’d rather not put a name to.

  No, Lee Jooheon. Not right now. He clenches his jaw, glancing away from you and swallowing roughly, feeling parched suddenly. It was strange how different actions elicited different reactions, his body responding in such stark contrast to each. As Jooheon turns away, he carefully lifts his hood up and over his head, closing his eyes.

  He should sleep, too. There was still quite a bit of flight left.

—

You’re met with silence when you finally wake.

  The plane is bustling and alive, a quiet hum of sound that reverberates through the cabin as people speak in hushed tones and get ready for their landing. These sounds all come to you, slowly seeping into your consciousness. Before your body fully wakes—before you begin to tense your muscles and stretch, and a yawn overtakes you while your eyes crack open—your mind wakes first. And you notice something that seems a little off.

  Everything is silent.

  Your headache is completely gone.

  You stay still for a moment, reveling in the odd silence, though your mind is reeling as to why the migraines which had been plaguing you for months were just suddenly gone. The cavity of your skull where your mind rests feels empty, but in an oddly good way. What had changed? What had happened? Was it the ascension in the plane to a higher altitude? Was that even something that could stop chronic migraines?

  It almost felt too good to be true, considering your migraines also came hand-in-hand with your pockets of disappearing memory. For all that to just suddenly stop felt too good to be true.

  Furrowing your brows, you squeeze your eyes closed tighter. You want to stay here—suspended in silence and the darkness behind your eyelids—forever. There was no ache just beyond your temple that caused nausea; the pain so bad sometimes you felt like you might pass out. There was no ache behind your eyes that typically brought about the stinging sensation of tears, and made the glaring brightness of any sort of light hurt. There was nothing. There was just silence. No thoughts, no suffocating pressure, no pain.

  “Are you awake now?” Abruptly, Jooheon’s not-so-welcome, yet familiar, voice breaks through your silence.

  Begrudgingly, you open your eyes, blinking a few times to readjust to the light. And then, you blink again, realizing the tilted angle at which you’re resting.

  “Sleep well?” The hint of amusement in Jooheon’s voice has you jolting upright—and off his shoulder, where you’d been resting your head. You take a moment to stare ahead, refusing to meet Jooheon’s curious gaze that you can feel burning into you. Silently, you swallow down your nervousness and glance to your side, avoiding his gaze for a moment to stare at his shoulder—your makeshift pillow for who knows how long—then you lift your eyes to meet his.

  Without prompting vocally again, Jooheon simply raises an eyebrow.

  You almost hate to admit you did sleep well, considering the push and pull you kept experiencing towards Jooheon. There were too many unanswered questions about him, too many things that made you curious and worried at the same time. He was too mysterious. Admitting something like this to him almost felt like you were placing a playing card right in his hand. There was a small part of you that wondered if his presence had anything to do with it, but you immediately pushed that thought out of your mind, writing it off as absolutely absurd. You barely knew him, how would he have any sort of effect on you such as that?

  Letting out a sigh, you nod finally in answer.

  Jooheon takes the silent answer with a small nod of his own, turning away to gather his belongings which had been at his feet to begin putting in the backpack he had, before pushing it back under the seat before him. “That’s good, you looked like you needed some decent rest.”

  “Apparently so. My headache—or rather, migraine—is gone.”

  When Jooheon straightens in his seat, he turns to look at you again. “You mentioned once you had a constant headache. Was it that bad?”

  You nod. “It would vary. Sometimes it was a headache, sometimes a migraine. Anywhere from manageable to incapacitating, but always constant. It’s been going on for almost three months now, I think?”

  “That long?” Jooheon’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and the corners of his lips immediately follow in the opposite direction, pulling down into a frown. “You mentioned during our first meeting you were stressed, but that sounds like something more than just stress. Have you been to a doctor?”

  “Please, finding the time is too difficult. Don’t start nagging me like Kihyun.” Out of habit, the borderline pushiness of his words has you reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose. There’s no headache there to attempt to subside—which has your hand just as quickly falling down from your face. You frown at your palm, studying it. The habit had been built on stress, and as stressful as Jooheon’s miniscule attempt to nag had been, there was no physical representation of that stress like usual.

  Maybe Kihyun is the problem, you muse to yourself. He did have a tendency to nag to the extreme. Almost like a mother.

  “I’m starting to think Kihyun might be on to something,” Jooheon grumbles from next to you, causing you to lift your gaze from your hand. “You seem to be stubborn, you need someone to nag you, it seems like. You should find the time. Three months almost certainly implies there’s some sort of underlying health concern.”

  “My headache is still gone, don’t ruin the moment. If you keep it up, it’s almost certainly going to come back.”

With a scoff, you look away from him and nestle back into your seat. As you do so, an announcement over the intercom notifies everyone aboard the plane of the oncoming landing. Instructions to start preparing for landing by putting away and stowing all belongings follows, and the stewardess over the speaker ends the announcement by asking everyone to return to their seats and begin buckling up.

  “Fine. I won’t ruin this moment. But I can’t promise for any future moments,” Jooheon declares. When you glance at him in surprise, he looks over at you with a small dimpled smirk. You end up rolling your eyes—rolling your gaze away from him. How the heck was he so annoying, yet somehow charming?

  As if someone hears the word charming cross through your mind—the plane hits a bit of turbulence just before it begins to tip to the side, turning to make a circle to land. It’s a very slight maneuver, almost unnoticeable. In fact, you were so accustomed to flying that you really wouldn’t have noticed it yourself, if not for the fact that Jooheon, next to you, was visibly tensing as he had earlier. His hand, lying on the armrest between you, grips the edge so hard the skin pulls taught and translucent over his knuckles.

  Even Jooheon’s unusual fear and his reaction to it, something you had become accustomed to during the flight, was somehow charming.

  Wordlessly, you reach out, pushing your hand beneath his where it grips the armrest. It takes a bit of urging before he feels your fingertips pushing against the base of his palm near his wrist, attempting to push your way underneath. When Jooheon does, he glances at you in surprise, lifting his hand just enough for you to slip yours beneath to take hold of him as you had before.

  When your palms connect, fingers wrapping around his and him returning the gesture, that scalding feeling from before returns. You knew you’d be burned, touching him—yet for some reason, as you had so many times through the flight already—it was a risk you were willing to take. That same electricity that you’d felt before, and felt from the night of the hotel opening, shoots up your arm from where your palms connect and shoots across every nerve in your body again. This time, though, it feels so much stronger—and now you wonder if the clarity of your migraine being gone is a good thing, or a bad thing. Without the heavy, leaden fog that rests over your mind with the migraine, you’re suddenly aware and feel everything. So much so that the contact this time and the reaction your body has to him makes you flinch in surprise, though very subtly.

  Jooheon, of course, takes silent note—his eyes never not watching you curiously.

  That electric fire that swarms through you happens in such a brief amount of time that it takes you a few moments of staring at your hand, connected with Jooheon’s, to realize that it at some point quiets down to something more akin to a simmer. Warm, and somehow pleasant. Something like sitting in a window, where sun filters through, your eyes closed against the sunlight that warms the glass and warms you.

  You really had to be going crazy, you think. Jooheon was handsome but there was no way you were attracted to him—right?

  Meanwhile, the same warmth floods through Jooheon, euphoric and soothing. He draws his eyes away from you, clenching his jaw and trying not to physically react to the fuzzy feeling that overtakes him, filling him up  yet again. The welcome silence of everything stopping within him returns. If he isn’t careful, he’s sure he might let out a sigh of contentment that would give everything away. And so, he clenches his jaw a little tighter, pursing his lips.

  “You’re going to break the poor armrest,” you say, past a knot that forms in your throat. Your throat feels dry, seizing up again. You feel awkward just holding his hand—especially as you try to make sense of the sudden fire that had built up just as it had before, before slowly dying down into something more manageable. This time, it wasn’t as suffocating. Yet you still felt somehow nervous and small next to him, that unnerving edginess he causes settling over you again. Your body was starting to feel as though it was experiencing whiplash.

  A little over sixteen hours spent in his presence was starting to confuse you. Were you still irked by him, yet somehow intrigued? Or were you actually starting to soften up to him? You had to admit that his mysterious riddled words and overly generous actions had made you immediately throw up a wall… but he hadn’t been that bad during this flight. He’d been much more normal, still as charming, but besides taking your phone for himself—he hadn’t pushed any boundaries or said anything weird.

  “You’d rather I break your hand, then?” Jooheon retorts good-naturedly, which has you suddenly snorting out a small laugh.

  “Please don’t actually break it. I need to return to work after this trip.”

  “What are you on this trip for, anyway?” Jooheon wonders, and when you look at him with a frown, he shrugs. “I told you what I’m going to LA for.”

  “Family reasons.”

  “A vacation, then?”

  You shake your head, grimacing at the thought of what awaits you when you land. Although Jooheon has made the flight a little more bearable, despite everything you thought about him prior, a small part of you wishes you hadn’t even boarded the plane back in Seoul. Knowing what you were walking into when the plane landed—you wished for everything that, somehow, you wouldn’t have to. If only you hadn’t been pressured into taking this trip. You wanted to stay suspended here, with your migraine gone and a bit of peace from everything in life and just spend some time not thinking. Not thinking about work, not thinking about family, and not thinking about how much pain you were constantly in. Kihyun had told you to get your migraine checked out while you were near your family doctor, but you wondered when you’d have time for that—wondered how long this peace from the head pain would last. Which is why you wanted to keep it, for as long as possible. It was so nice to have some silence and a break from it all. Soon, you’d be walking back into more pain. Unwillingly so, but that was the outcome, nonetheless.

  “It’s not going to feel like a vacation.” Comes your answer, just as the plane lands. It’s at that moment that Jooheon squeezes your hand, the impact of the plane hitting the runway jostling everyone inside just a bit. But there’s something in the way that he gives the squeeze—almost reassuring instead of to comfort himself—that has you staring at your hands, yet again, in silent curiosity.

  Jooheon keeps holding your hand up until the plane reaches a complete stop once it pulls up to the jetway. It’s only then that he relinquishes his hold, and the both of you silently gather up the belongings which you’d brought as carry on items onto the plane. Other passengers begin to do the same, standing in their rows and slowly beginning to exit the plane. Jooheon, once he has everything in his backpack he’d brought with him, soon stands in the row you share, turning to glance over his shoulder. As you finish gathering your things into the backpack you’d brought on the plane with you after claiming it from the overhead bin, you look up at him—noticing him searching.

  You peek over the top edge of your seat just as Jooheon appears to have found who he was looking for, giving a curt nod of acknowledgement. “I’ll meet you outside,” he says, nodding over his shoulder to signal when they exit the plane. You squint, studying the people, before your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, instantly recognizing the larger built man a few aisles back from you who seems to nod a reply to Jooheon.

  “He was here too?” You blurt out,  without thinking, memories immediately flashing back to the night you’d been drunk and that man had taken you home. You grimace, sinking down in your seat a bit and hoping he doesn’t see you.

  Your outburst causes Jooheon to glance down at you in surprise, lips twitching in amusement at your reaction and the way you attempt to hide yourself. “Of course. Hoseok’s my bodyguard. And kind of an assistant, since he keeps track of all my schedules.”

  “Why’d you sit with me instead of the person you came on this trip with?”

  Jooheon shrugs. “You’re much more interesting. Plus, I see him every day.”

  You frown, but before you can reply, Jooheon reaches down behind you where you sit, backpack on, and gives the hook strap on your bag a tug, urging you to your feet. The two aisles ahead of you move to make their exit, marking it as your turn next. Jooheon turns away as you stand, stepping out of the aisle—and his next action catches you by surprise. He steps out enough to block others from cutting out and ahead, nodding for you to go first. Blinking in surprise, you almost trip as you rush out of the aisle so as to not hold up the line, feeling Jooheon keep close behind you as he follows.

  You don’t realize until you’re off the plane that Jooheon has an ulterior motive by letting you exit first. As soon as you’ve cleared the bridge connecting the plane to the terminal gate, and have stepped out into the waiting area, Jooheon steps forward from behind you and slips his hand into your own. He takes a firm hold, tugging you along as he leads you off. 

  “Hey!” Surprised, you stumble after him, having not even had a chance to figure out what your next step after arrival would be—you’d traveled back in time, and it was almost nine o’clock at night on a Friday in Los Angeles. You needed to figure out a form of transportation home, first and foremost, before things started to close down. “J-Jooheon!”

  The sound of his name slows his pace down, and Jooheon glances over his shoulder at you with a quirked brow—but he doesn’t stop walking. “That’s the second time you’ve said my name.”

  You frown, staring at him. Had he been counting such a thing? You hadn’t really been aware you’d said his name so little… but you had been avidly avoiding the use of it. You didn’t want to give him too much power by using his name. It was better, you thought, to just keep him as a stranger. That’s what you’d thought the night of the opening ceremony and the nights following where he’d constantly tormented the gaping hole in your memory. Unfortunately, he’d pushed past that boundary line already—something you were well aware of. Lee Jooheon was more like an acquaintance now, and as much as you hated it—it was too late to turn back.

  “We’re going to go get food,” he announces when you don’t say anything to his statement, turning away from you to keep leading you on.

  You give your hand a tug, attempting to pull it back to yourself. “We don’t need to, though—”

  “Nonsense, I’m starving. The plane meals weren't that filling.” Jooheon glances over his shoulder at you again. “And like I said, you’re much more interesting to spend time with. I’m not done doing so yet—as soon as you leave this airport, who knows when I’ll see you again, or if you’ll even use that phone number I put in your cell? LA’s a much bigger city than Seoul, we might not cross paths at all while we’re here.”

  “Why does that matter?” You grumble. You wanted to keep things at the acquaintance level.

  Jooheon shrugs. “Matters to me. But please, just indulge me for a bit. I’m stuck here for at least a week having to do work. I might not get to see anything outside of a hotel for the entire time.”

  You sigh, but give up trying to pull your hand back to you. Jooheon doesn’t free you of his grasp until you’re being seated. As you stop outside the restaurant he’s chosen, you can’t help but stare up at the sign on the wall for the Mexican food eatery, grimacing. Jooheon catches the face you make as you sit across from him—and when your eyes meet as you take your seat, and you realize he’d seen you make the face, you let out another sigh.

  “Did we really have to eat here? Airport food is so expensive.”

  “It’s quick and convenient. Plus, I’m paying.”

  “What?” You shake your head. You already owed him, you didn’t want more added on. “No, definitely not.”

  “You’re indulging me, so I’ll be the one to handle the bill.” Jooheon reaches across the table, tapping the menu that had been set down in front of you by the waiter before they had disappeared. After doing so, Jooheon pulls his phone out of his pocket and busies himself with it.

  You purse your lips, scanning the limited menu options. The downside to airport food, besides the price, was how little there was to choose from. That being said, it made making a final decision a lot easier and faster. When the waiter comes back around—the two of you being among the very few people sitting to eat at that time of night—you both place your order with ease.

  Just as the waiter leaves, Jooheon’s phone rings. He glances at the phone face to see who’s calling, before answering in Korean. While the voice on the other end of the line speaks, you decide to pull your own phone out of your bag that you’d brought with you. Having been dragged away by Jooheon, you hadn’t had a chance to turn your phone off airplane mode. You do so, and then wait for the onslaught of messages to pour through.

  “Hey,” Jooheon says from across the table. You glance up from your phone to look at him, just as your finger pushes the little slider to turn airplane mode off. “What does your luggage look like?”

  For a moment, you just stare at Jooheon, confused.

  “It’s Hoseok, he’s at baggage claim.”

  “Oh.” The word falls from your lips slowly as his words settle into your mind, realization dawning on you. That’s right—you’d been dragged away so fast you’d also forgotten about your checked luggage that you had to pick up. “Uh, it’s a larger black suitcase. I have a yellow ribbon tied to it.”

  Jooheon nods, repeating the information to Hoseok. As he does so, you overhear him follow up by telling his bodyguard-assistant that the two of you are eating, and apologizing profusely for running off. It’s clear from the tone the conversation takes that Jooheon isn’t going to be let off easy, despite being the boss. You zone out, then, instead returning your focus back to your own phone. But the screen contents are empty when you tap the screen to wake the phone from sleep, unlocking it.

  The lack of any sort of notification causes you to frown. Of course, it was past nine now, so you doubted anyone here that was waiting for you to arrive actually cared about you arriving. This entire trip had been a guilt trip, and was an inconvenience for you. You were sure drama would start as soon as you arrived home. It was likely no one had even stayed up to greet you, so why would anyone bother to check and see if your flight had gone well? There had been minimal communication leading up to your departure, anyway.

  Doing the math in your head, you count back, figure that it’s a little after one in the afternoon back in Korea. The fact that there was no message from Kihyun, either, was a little deterring—considering it was a weekend in the middle of the afternoon. But then you remembered he had asked you to call him when you landed. Mentally chastising yourself, you open your text messages and send him a quick text, letting him know you’ve landed and were grabbing some food, and would call him a little later.

  “You okay?” Jooheon asks, now off the phone. He’d been sitting there quietly for a few moments, watching your expression turn increasingly sour.

  Hearing his voice, you startle in surprise—having not even realized he’d gone silent. You fumble with your phone, locking it quickly—slightly guiltily—and pull your gaze back up to him. Not long ago, you’d been trying to get out of eating with him and slip away as fast as you possibly could. But, now you realize it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t like you had anywhere to go.

   “Yeah, fine,” you mumble sheepishly.

  Jooheon clicks his tongue, reaching for the glass of water the waiter had set on the table when seating the two of you. “That’s a lie,” he says, before taking a drink. “But I won’t press.”

  Before you can react to that, wondering how Jooheon would know such a thing was a lie, your waiter returns with your food. The way you can feel your expression instantly lighten on your face, your stomach growling in response to the delectable scent—you realize that’s how Jooheon had known you were lying. Thinking about what you were returning home too had dampened your mood enough that it was visible on your face. But the smell of the expensive, yet delicious-looking, airport food had lightened it back up.

  Jooheon smiles softly, watching you, amused at how easily food motivated you seemed to be. He gives a quiet thanks to the waiter before joining you, taking a bite of the tacos that had been ordered. The two of you eat in silence, for the most part. The only questions Jooheon asks are if you like the food, just as he had done on the plane, and how long you’ll be in Los Angeles for. Neither answer illicit much of a further reaction from him, or push him to speak more—and so you finish your shared meal together quite quickly—and thankfully before things get awkward with the staff as the restaurant nears closing time.

  You wait by the entrance while Jooheon finishes up paying. As he turns away from the counter, he sticks the receipt he was given in his wallet, before shoving that into the pocket of his sweatpants, walking over to meet you. You offer up a smile as he stops next to you.

  “Thanks for the food.” “Thank you for eating with me,” Jooheon replies, returning your smile. He can’t help but take note of how soft, and slightly shy, the way your lips appear to be turned up on your face. It’s cute. Before much more can be said, his phone goes off in his pocket.

  The sound makes you a bit jealous, and you watch as Jooheon pulls the device out and studies the name on the screen. He lets out a very long sigh before he answers the phone—and you’re almost surprised it’s in Korean, again.

  “I just finished eating,” you hear Jooheon say, and you turn away as he speaks on the phone.

  As you do so, you blink, catching sight of something—or rather, someone—peculiar.

  “Daniel?” The name falls from your lips with confusion, but with a raised-enough voice that the owner of the name—the person walking towards you—lifts their head in answer, confirming your suspicion.

  Jooheon, standing behind you, hears your voice not only against his ears—but he also hears it echo within his phone receiver, as well. Blinking in confusion, he pulls his cell phone away from his ear just enough to stare at it, surprised and confused, before turning around slowly. Jooheon looks at you, first, then lifts his gaze up to see what you’re staring at with such a surprised expression.

  “Changkyun.”

  You glance over your shoulder at Jooheon, hearing a name fall from his lips that isn’t a question—but rather, a statement. Seeing where Jooheon is staring, you look back.

  Daniel—or Changkyun—stops dead in his tracks where he’s walking, the cell phone he’s holding to his ear frozen there. He stares, dumbfounded, looking between you and Jooheon. After a few moments, your name falls from his lips in surprise—out of breath and nostalgic, the familiarity of it hits you like a wave. And then, his next word that follows has you blanching in surprise, looking once again back over your shoulder at Jooheon.

  “Uh, hi, Boss.”

  Jooheon purses his lips, lowering his phone from his ear and hanging up the call. He shoves the device back into his pocket. “You’re late.”

  “S-sorry, you know how LA traffic is.”

  “You two know each other?” You blurt, suddenly, just as Daniel nears the two of you, slowly coming to a stop.

  “I want to ask the same thing.” As he speaks, Jooheon quirks a brow at you.

  “Actually,” Changkyun clears his throat. “Same.”

  “This is the best friend-general manager that I was telling you about on the flight, for our LA location,” Jooheon explains, before nodding in your direction. “And she’s my favorite small-time journalist in Seoul.”

  Favorite small-time journalist. The words ring in your head, and you’re suddenly propelled back to weeks ago when you had found yourself wondering if Jooheon had a hand in how well your article had been doing. You purse your lips, but decide not to say anything.

  It’s Changkyun’s turn to quirk a brow, but you’re too busy turning the rest of Jooheon’s words over in your head to react. It takes a moment before your eyes suddenly widen. Your head snaps up in the direction of Daniel, eyebrows shooting up in surprise and mouth falling open. “You?! A general manager?!”

  “Wow, the lack of faith in your incredulous reaction is a testament to your faith in me,” Changkyun mutters, tone dripping with sarcasm. All you do is shake your head, still in disbelief, before looking back at Jooheon.

  “We went to high school together,” you reply simply. “And middle school, actually. We’ve been friends since then.”

  “Speaking of, why are you back? Are you here for—” Before Changkyun can finish his sentence, you loudly cut him off.

  “Oh! Look! Hoseok has the luggage!” And before waiting for either of the men next to you to react, you push past Daniel in a rush, heading towards Jooheon’s bodyguard. Changkyun blinks, surprised, meeting Jooheon’s eyes before looking over his shoulder at you. Jooheon simply shrugs, following after you a little more slowly.

  “How are you getting home?” Jooheon asks as he catches back up to you, watching as Hoseok relinquishes your luggage back to your own possession.

  You give Hoseok a small thanks, turning back. “I’m just going to call an Uber or Lyft.”

  Jooheon frowns, before looking at Changkyun. “How close are you two?”

  “Uh… close, I guess? Our families know each other, and we keep in touch, albeit inconsistently because of work.”

  “Perfect. Let her borrow your car.”

  In unison, you and Changkyun both blurt out, “What?”

  “It’s late, and it’s safer. We can just get the Uber. This way you can just head home,” Jooheon explains, matter-of-factly. “And if you two went to  school together and your families are familiar with each other, I’m sure you know where to pick your car up.”

  “Hey,” you mutter, scowling at Jooheon. “That’s not really for you to decide—”

  Changkyun sighs, waving you off. “It’s fine, it’s not a big deal. He has the right idea. You live like twenty minutes away from here, anyway.” 

  You frown, wanting to argue further—but you feel Jooheon’s intense gaze on you and figure it probably won’t get you very far. But to just make that decision on his own, without asking… you cut Jooheon a look of annoyance before turning your attention back to Changkyun as he fishes his car keys out of his pocket, pulling the car key off and taking the remaining keys on the ring. He hands it over to you, briefly explaining he’d left the car in the loading port after convincing the attendant outside that he’d only be a short amount of time, urging you should likely go soon so as to not result in his car being towed. You nod, thanking him and giving him a quick hug, before turning to Jooheon.

  Lifting Changkyun’s car key menacingly, you glare. “Don’t you dare use this as an excuse to see me and come with him and pick the car up, got it? I appreciate your concern and I’ll accept it this time—but I’m not happy about it.”

  And before he can answer, you gather your things and turn on your heel, heading away. You hear Jooheon let out an audible laugh as he watches your retreating figure. He smiles, watching you leave, and waits until you’re out of earshot before turning to Changkyun.

  “High school friends, huh? What a coincidence.”

  “That’s the girl you’ve been bugging me about?” Changkyun crosses his arms, frowning. “If so, I don’t think coincidence even begins to cover it.”

  Jooheon tilts his head to the side, curious.

  “She’s the one, right? The failed contract you mentioned?” Changkyun prompts, before letting out a bitter chuckle as Jooheon nods. He shakes his head, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “Ha… I can’t even be surprised, with the divorce and all…”

  “Divorce?” Jooheon echoes.

  Changkyun frowns. “My statement that she dodged earlier. Why she’s back here… her parents are getting a divorce. Long time coming, honestly, and she probably got dragged back into it. There’s… a lot in that household that’s worth escaping, to be honest. Which makes sense why she sought you out.”

  “If it makes so much sense, then why’d the contract fail?”

  “Do you really not know?” Changkyun wonders, quirking an eyebrow as he levels his gaze with Jooheon’s.

  “I’m not here to play guessing games, Changkyun,” Jooheon mutters. “It just happened to be convenient that you showed up to see who I was referring to, and coincidence that you know her and we were on the same flight. But I’ve been venting all this to you for the past few months because I’m at an utter loss as to why the contract would have failed. I’m not all-knowing, despite what people may think. Now that you’ve seen her, I’m assuming you have an answer. So, spill.”

  Changkyun smirks, stepping forward to place a hand on Jooheon’s shoulder. “My Lordship… that girl is your soulmate.”

  Soulmate.

  Before the word even processes, Jooheon is scoffing, to which Changkyun tsks.

  “You were human at one point, too. We all have one. Even you, the King of Hell,” Changkyun chastises. “I’m guessing you probably can’t see it, or you would’ve caught on much sooner—but her aura, it reads totally differently when she’s next to you in comparison to when she was walking away. It’s quite interesting to see this in person, I’ve only ever heard of it happening a few times through sources.”

  Jooheon frowns, studying Changkyun’s face for any sign of a lie. Soulmate. Another person with which one had a natural affinity and deeper connection toward. The connection was often instantaneous and natural—and strong enough that one would feel themselves drawn to that other person in every single way while simultaneously bringing about a sense of peace and calm. Jooheon wanted to scoff again. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe in them. He’d seen the magic at work for others. But, for himself?

  And yet, so many things made sense. His anxiety eased when near you. The entire plane trip, everything had been calm. A sort of calm he’d never experienced before. Just as much as things had been calm, though, every touch had set ablaze his nerve endings. He hadn’t experienced such a nervousness in someone else’s presence in years.

  What an ironic twist of fate this had to be—the universe was definitely playing games with him, now. He was well aware he’d pissed off many higher powers over the years… but to do this to him? Send him his own soulmate, on a silver platter, begging to make a contract with the Devil? Begging for release? Begging to forget?

  To forget…

  Jooheon blinks, realization dawning on him—the migraines you’d mentioned. He lets out an audible groan, lifting a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. Of course that would be a side effect. While he had never had a contract fail in the past, unless a soul really wasn’t set on release—a broken contract could amount to many side effects, some more serious than others. In most cases, Jooheon had witnessed the failed cases simply go insane. But since your request had been so definite and simple, it made sense that it would backfire with a physical manifestation like this.

  That’s why she doesn’t remember me.

  “Changkyun, I need a drink,” Jooheon mutters, brushing past both him and Hoseok. The two share a look, and Changkyun stares after Jooheon in confusion, before trailing after in a hurry.

[agerestorybits]

Remy regress

He woke up feeling..off. He brushed it off as lack of good sleep and needing a coffee. He started the coffee maker. Soon enough he had a cup of plain black coffee. He took a sip and wrinkled his nose at the taste.

Huh.. that’s weird.

He ended up putting a bit of caramel flavoring in it. That helped...somewhat.

“Morning!” Emile said as he walked in.

Remy answered with a hum. Emile chuckled as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “Bad night?”

“I guess?” Remy said, frowning at his mostly empty cup.

“Something wrong?” Emile asked, sitting down next to his boyfriend.

Remy shrugged, “I’m fine babes...just still tired.” That was it...wasn’t it?

Emile looked at him closely, “Okie dokie!”

Remy smiled and drained the rest of his coffee. He didn’t get more. Something that Emile noticed immediately. He didn’t mention it.

“So what are we up today?” Remy asked.

“Napping if you're still tried.” Emile said.

Remy rolled his eyes. “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry about that.”

Emile frowned, “Ok. How about we just stay here today?”

“Sounds lame.” Remy said.

“Remy.” Emile said.

“Fine.”

They ended up watching cartoons..both of them. Normally half way through the first episode Remy would have pulled out his phone.

“Is your phone dead?” Emile asked.

Remy pulled his gaze from the t.v, “Huh? Oh! No...Why?”

“No reason.” Emile said Remy was already watching the t.v screen again.

It was two hours before Remy got bored and stood up.

“Go to get coffee?” Emile asked. He watched as Remy wrinkled his nose at the thought.

“..Yes.” That’s what he would normally do.

“You don’t have to.” Emile said, his voice switching into Therapy mode.

“I know.” Remy said. No eye roll. No comment. Just...I know. “I think I’ll take a nap.”

Remy walked off and ended up in their bed room. In the corner was Emile’s stuffed animals. Most of whom were from cartoons. Some were just cute.

Remy really really wanted to snuggle one. He shook his head. What was with him today?

He crawled into bed and opened his phone, ready to scroll through instagram until he passed out.

He squinted at the screen. He blinked and rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t read anything. Everything was small and jumbled up. He turned off his phone and set it on the night stand and then stared at the ceiling.

What was wrong with him today? Maybe he should ask Emile. He would know something about this...right?

He glanced back at the pile of toys.

Screw it. He got out of bed and grabbed a simba plush. He crawled back into bed holding a stuffed animal to his chest. He dozed off quickly.

He woke up sometime later and felt even weird. Why was it so hard to think? He was getting scared. What if he was sick? Really really sick?

Tears sprung to his eyes. He hugged Simba tighter.

He was so scared and confused and he wanted Em.

“What’s wrong?” Emile asked as he walked into to find a sobbing Remy holding a stuffed animal.

Remy was quick to bury his face in Emile’s chest and whimpered. “Scared.”

“Why are you scared?” Emile asked softly.

“My brain’s weird and I can’t read and I don’t like it!” Remy described.

It clicked for Emile. He’s seen this before. He was a therapist he’s even suggested for patients to age regress. Get in touch with a childhood that they had lost.

“I think you’re regressed.” Emile said, stroking Remy’s hair.

“What?”

“It’s where you feel younger...do you feel younger?” Emile asked.

“A little.” Rmey said quietly. He paused, “I’m hungry.”

“Well then. Let’s get you something to eat!” Emile said.

Remy clung to Emile all the way to the kitchen and whined when Emile let go of his hand to get some food.

Emile talked to Remy the whole time he made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and cut it into squares. He set that down for him and then gave him a glass of milk.

He turned around to make himself a sandwich when-

“Oops! Oh no!” He turned and found that Remy had knocked over his glass. He looked scared.

“Hey. It’s ok!” Emile said, grabbing a towel.

This was only the first of many accidents that Remy had while small. Each one made him more upset than the last. By evening he was hiding in the back of his closet, his knees pulled up to his chest and his head hidden behind his arms.

It took Emile fifteen minutes to find him there from when he ran off after accidentally dropping a glass and it shattering across the floor.

“Hey. There you are!” Emile said turning on the closet light.

Remy whimpered.

“Hey no! It’s ok!” Emile said.

“No! I..I didn’t mean too!” Remy said breathing fast.

“You aren’t in trouble.” Emile said.

Remy looked at him scared. It hurt Emile that Remy was afraid of him. “Of course not! It was an accident!”

“I’m an accident.” Remy muttered.

Emile frowned, “No. You’re not.”

“Yes I am! I break everything ! And- and I’m always scared! Now I’m all brain weird!” Remy shouted.

“Oh sweetie.” Emile said, opening his arms. Remy threw himself into them and sobbed. “I had no idea you were so scared.”

“I’m stupid.”

“You aren’t stupid.” Emile said firmly. He was going to have a long chat with Remy after he wasn’t regressed about all of this. For now, he needed to calm him down. “How about some ice cream?”

“Really?” Remy asked hesitantly.

“Really. Come on!” Emile said, pulling Remy along to the kitchen.

He gave him a dish of ice cream and watched as he slowly started smiling. “Better?”

Remy nodded. “Thanks Em.”

Emile smiled.

---

Remy woke up with a mild headache from not having his coffee yet. He felt… normal if not a little embarrassed about how he acted.

He looked over and found that Emile was already awake.

He got to the kitchen and found Emile had made a pot of coffee and was reading. “Ah! You’re up!”

Remy didn’t respond right away. Emile frowned, “Aaaw are you still feeling little-”

“No!” Remy said sharply before taking a breath. “No I’m just..” He poured himself a cup of coffee. He didn’t want to turn around.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed.” Emile said softly.

“Right. Because me acting like a kid is totes normal.” Remy said drily, turning to face his boyfriend.

“It’s perfectly healthy to age regress.” Emile said, staring him down.

Remy broke eye contact first.

“We need to talk.” Emile said.

Remy nodded and sat down across from him tensely. This was the part where they go back to being friends right? Remy was just too screwed up to be bothered with.

“So you regress pretty young.” Emile started.

Remy shrugged and took a drink. He had no idea if that was normal or not for age regression.

“Do you want me to be your caregiver?”

Remy almost spit out his coffee. “My what?”

“I watch you when you're regressed.” Emile clarified.

“...that’s going to happen again?” Remy asked quietly.

“Probably. Maybe not. It could have been a one time thing.” Emile said, trying to comfort him.

Remy stared down into his coffee. “I...I don’t know.”

Emile put a hand over Remy’s. “We have time. You don’t have to answer right away.”

Remy nodded. He had a lot he needed to think about.

---

Two weeks had passed since he had regressed and he stubbornly avoided talking about it again. He was not going to do that again! He shuddered at how scared and helpless he felt.

“Regressing can be fun!” Emile promised.

Remy ignored him. There was no way that...that was going to be good for him! He had a fine childhood, he didn’t need to regress! He wasn’t stressed...much. Or depressed… most of the time.

He could handle it! He was fine!

At least, until he woke up with his head fuzzy again. Dread settled in his stomach at what that meant. He took a breath and was determined to do everything he could to not regress!

He glanced over at Emile who was still asleep. He was not going to tell his boyfriend either...Even if he had promised. He hadn’t meant it anyway….

Guilt started to gnaw at him. He got out of bed. He could handle this.

He would handle this.

He drank his coffee black despite wanting to put an unholy amount of sugar in it. He got a second cup even though he didn’t want to. He got dressed in his normal clothing even if they were uncomfortable. He went to work and was fine!

He was fine!

Until he got sent home early for being snippy. He was always snippy, he grumbled as he got home. He looked around the empty apartment and sighed. Emile wouldn’t be back for a couple hours.

He wanted him now though. He wanted to be held and told that everything was fine. He wanted to just..relax.

Well he could do that, couldn’t he? Yeah, if he got less stressed maybe the fuzzy feeling that plagued him would leave.

He first tried watching t.v but the Rom Com he put on wasn’t holding his interest. Next he tried scrolling through Instagram. Again not interesting. He groaned in frustration.

Tears pricked at his eyes. Angry he wiped them away. He would not lose to this! He was an adult! He could handle this!

Emile came home to find Remy sitting on the couch staring off into space, tears pouring down his face.

“What happened?” He asked.

Remy looked at him, “I...I didn’t want to.” He said quietly.

Fear shot through Emile, “Didn’t want to what?” A million terrible situations running through his head.

Remy shook his head, “I’m an adult.”

Emile paused for a second. It clicked. “Oh. Are you feeling a bit small again?”

“I don’t want it!” Remy said sobbing.

“Would a hug make you feel better?” Emile asked.

Remy nodded and fell against Emile’s chest. Emile hugged him as he cried. “It’s ok. Shh.”

“I don’t wanna.” Remy cried.

“Why not?” Emile asked.

“Cuz it’s weird!” Remy said.

“So?” Emile asked. “People think I’m weird. Weird is ok!”

Remy thought about this. “I feel bad...scared.”

“Oh. Well I’m here now and I’ll protect you!”

“Really?” Remy asked.

“Really. I'll keep you safe.” Émile promised, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Remy hugged Emile again, tighter this time. “Tank you.”

“Of course.”

Emile put on a movie and let Remy cuddle up to him. It took time for him to finally relax.

“Em…” Remy started quietly.

“Yes?”

“Love you.” Remy muttered.

Emile almost squealed. “Love you too baby.”

“Mkay.” Remy said leaning his head on Emile’s shoulder going back to watching the movie.

Remy still wasn’t comfortable with his regression but he did feel safer with Emile there.

And that was a start right?

[yodawgiherd]

Interlude

>>>Read on AO3<<<

As promised, this is a rather spicy chapter (you asked for it) I was hammering out for a bit over two weeks - thus the length. I just kept adding more and more random thoughts and end up like this... oh well. Hope you'll like it :)

Worry, that was the foremost thing on Mikasa’s mind lately. Partly about the tournament, but mostly about Armin, who now knew all about Annie and that he will most likely be seeing her again shortly. She almost bit her bottom lip bloody from it, and Eren was no better. To keep tabs on their friend, they commissioned Jean to stay around Armin, and let them know if anything goes wrong. For once, Jean didn’t complain, as he also wanted to get to know Armin better - it was a win-win situation really. From his reports, the blond was taking the news quite well, and, in other news, was putting finishing touches on his book. But this didn’t stop the engaged couple from agonizing about it.

They both had their way of coping. Eren once again entered turbo mode at the hospital, burying himself in work, while Mikasa upped her training load to inhuman levels. At home, Eren spent an unholy amount of time in the kitchen, experimenting with pretty much everything, while Mikasa cleaned the whole house over and over, anything to keep busy. She wasn’t as much of a clean freak as her brother, but try growing up with Levi and not being affected. Try it.

At first, Levi approved of her newfound zeal in the gym, but when she kept ignoring her limits and pushing past what her body could handle, the tight smile he had turned into a frown. From his office, he could see Mikasa working out at the bench press, the barbell going up and down at an unsteady rate. Her arms were shaky, a sight incredibly rare as Mikasa’s gym knowledge ran deep and she never did anything risky. Unless she was tired to the bone and overworking herself. Levi had to do something, otherwise she would end up hurting. Yet a classic “Go Home” would probably not work on Mikasa, as she was exactly as stubborn as Levi was. Time for action then, he thought to himself, getting up from the office chair.

Mikasa didn’t even catch the gloves he threw at her, driving the point of her being tired home. With the reflexes she had, she could pretty much snatch flies out of the air, but now they were dulled beyond recognition. Picking up the gloves, she looked at Levi who jerked his head towards the ring in a clear challenge.

They spared, and Mikasa was her usual perfect self at first, too fast and too strong for normal mortals to handle. She backed Levi into a corner, not giving him time to breathe. But then, out of nowhere, she faltered, her body finally saying fuck it and taking a micro-break. He immediately took advantage, as any fighter would, should this happen in the tournament, and flipped her over, planting Mikasa on her back. She blinked up at him, confused.

“W-What happened?”, she stammered.

“You lost.”, he replied, voice cold, “Because you keep overworking yourself. Take a break.”

“But I…”

“No buts. I’m still your trainer, so listen to me for once.”

She sighed, getting up from the ground. Even that simple motion was exhausting, and now that Levi mentioned it, Mikasa could feel the burn in all her muscles. He was, as usual, exactly right.

Even getting home was a pain, her body protesting anytime she forced it to move, even when the motion was as small as revving her motorbike up. Grateful for the speed the machine could do, Mikasa got back to her and Eren’s house at a nigh record time. A shower later, she plopped herself on the sofa, staring mindlessly at the Tv, waiting for that certain someone to come home. When he did, she was already in that half-dreaming half-awake state, but when Eren sat down it roused her.

“Hard day?”, he asked, getting a groan as an answer.

“You wanna head to bed?”

Instead of answering, Mikasa pulled herself on top of that heater Eren called his body, yawning after.

“Nah, I’m good here.”, she murmured, face half-squished in his shirt.

He chuckled at that.

“Suit yourself. I have a free weekend ahead of me, so I’m ready to be your bodypillow.”

Eren had free time. She had free time, Levi would most likely bite her head off if she showed up at the gym tomorrow. Hmmm…… They could… They could…

The train of thought derailed when Mikasa fell asleep, a soft snore escaping her lips. She was deep under, not even stirring when Eren carried her up to the bedroom, sleeping soundly the whole night. Levi would be happy.

It was the morning sun that woke her, but when Mikasa rolled away from the heater she was spooning she realized that there wasn’t a single thing she wanted to do. For once, the tireless war machine that is her body was feeling lazy. Eren stirred next to her, most likely reacting to the loss of her touch. The way her breasts squished against his back always brought the sweetest dreams. Sitting up and turning to look at her, Eren let the absolute bliss of waking up next to an angel show on his face.

“Morning beautiful. Slept well?”

“I did, but I kind of… want to sleep more?”

“You want to laze around? Damn.”

“Yea, I do.”, a small devilish smile formed on her lips, “If I remember correctly I’m taking inspiration from the guy I dated in college. Remind me, what did he say he wanted to do on our second date? A nap?”

Eren groaned, hiding his face.

“Please don’t remind me, I was so cringe back then.”

“And you think I was better? The first thing that I said when u leaned on my legs was that I could choke you out, kill you.”

“That WAS weird. Tell me, do you have a voice in your head that goes like: “Mikasa, we have to kill Eren” ?”

She frowned at him, her raven eyebrows narrowing.

“Of course I do. It gets stronger every time you piss me off.”

“I better watch my behavior then.”, he chuckled, “Anyway, I admit that we had certain issues to work through, but I’m glad we managed.”

“We sure did. So…”, she tugged at his arm, getting Eren to lie back down, “Stay with me?”

His beloved was always like this, especially earlier in their relationship. During college, Mikasa was so touch starved that she would just cling to his arm anytime they were together, going completely against her usual ice queen facade. Keeping his cool around the campus was impossible, because even when he was staring at his phone Eren was hyperaware of her body very, very close to him. And how was he supposed to be “cool” when there was an incredibly beautiful goth girl, with her black clothes, piercings and all that, holding his arm, smiling like it was the best thing in the world. There was no way, so he just blushed and hoped that no one would see it. She would blush too when he looked at her, would angle her head lower, the inverted crosses in her ears swaying lightly, but she wouldn’t let go.  Mikasa just liked holding him that much. Reminded of these pretty memories, Eren’s chuckle evolved into a grin.

“Sure, I’ll stay with you. On one condition though, you have to promise that you won’t choke me out.”

“Asshat.”

When Mikasa woke up for the second time, Eren was already awake, watching her with that small smile that made her stomach flutter. She asked him once, why he does that, and he just shrugged and said that he sometimes still can’t believe how lucky he is that someone like her is in his life.

“Rested enough?”

“Mhmm… I think so.”

“That’s good because I ordered us some pizza. Wouldn’t want that to get cold.”

“Pizza for breakfast?” Mikasa faked an outraged expression, “What would Carla think?”

“She would probably ask for a slice.”, Eren shrugged, “Mom was always very practical.”

Mikasa smiled at that, fond memories of Eren’s mom filling her head.

“Anyway,”, Eren changed the topic, “How was training? I wanted to ask yesterday but I don’t think you wanted to hear one more word about the gym.”

“Fine, fine.”, she stretched, moaning a bit when her muscles protested, “But Levi cut me off, said that I needed a break.”

“Really? A damn shame that.”

“Why?”

“I like watching you train. Or even better, training with you.”, he gave her a nondescript look, “It’s hot.”

“You’re saying that you pop a boner while watching me?”

“I’m saying that watching you train, or fight, is fucking beautiful.”, Eren’s eyes roamed over her body, the wonder and appreciation in his gaze would make Mikasa blush if she wasn’t completely flush already, “The way you move, the way you dodge and attack, I never get enough of it.”

“The way I move huh?”, crawling over to his side of the bed, Mikasa walked her fingers down from his chest to Eren’s abs and continued, “How about I show you some other moves I can do?”

A small sexy twitch crossed his lips, but before he could reply to the generous offer, something shattered their little love scene. The doorbell rang. Eren huffed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’ll get it, it’s most likely the food.”

With that, Eren rolled from the bed and went out of the door, only pausing to throw his pants on. Mikasa was just about to follow him when her eyes slid over the dresser, a certain object catching her eye. It was the end of one of their play ropes, black with red stripes. Instead of walking out of the door, she moved towards it, grasping and pulling it into her hands. Running it between her fingers, the sensation was enough for her head to start filling with ideas. She wasn’t that hungry yet, or rather, there was something else she would like, not food. The last weeks were exhausting, filled with things to do that weren’t Eren, and Mikasa would very much like her fill. A plan forming in mind, she quickly stripped from her sleeping clothes. Bare, she took out her collar from its resting place, bucking it tight around her neck. Even the gentle hug of the soft leather made her relax that tiny bit, her body knowing what usually followed once she was collared. Finding a nice location in front of the bed and kneeling down, Mikasa had to bite her bottom lip to keep the excitement in. Naked, save for a thick strip of leather around her throat, holding the rope, she waited.

The door opened and Eren was back.

“Hey babe, the food is here, you want…”, but then his eyes found her and the sentence dissolved in his throat, “Oh, I ordered pizza but it looks like someone has a taste for a vegan steak.”

A small giggle left Mikasa’s lips understanding the reference to the dorky code word system they had.

“I would like one, yes.” mustering her courage, she held up the ropes in her straightened hands like an offering, “Would you tie me up please?”

Eren moved closer, the food completely forgotten, but didn’t take the rope yet. Instead, he ran his hands over it, gently touching the material.

“Why?”, he asked, voice low.

“It’s just…”, Mikasa stammered, looking for the right words.

She wanted this for a multitude of reasons. The past weeks had been hectic, with everything that was going on. She had to worry about her next matches, looking through the file Levi compiled for her. She had to keep her training up while also attending various photoshoots at Kiyomi’s agency. She had to sign various contracts that gave her the Hizuru ltd. as a sponsor. And most of all, she had to worry about Annie coming back and once again completely wrecking Armin’s life. Mikasa wanted to just turn her brain off for a moment. She wanted Eren to take control of her, to wrap those pretty ropes around her and make her forget. She wanted to have her mind blown by how skillful he was.

“I’m just stressed out, want to relax.”, she compressed her thoughts into a single sentence. Doing her best attempt at puppy eyes, she pleaded: “Please?”

Eren could never deny her when she was like this, and to be honest, it's not that he wanted to in the first place. He took the rope from her hands. Flexing it between his fingers, his mind already worked over all the different riggings he could put Mikasa into.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?”, he asked, putting one hand on her cheek, gently caressing her.

She nuzzled into the touch.

“The best.”

He smiled down at her, thumb tracing the scar on her cheek.

“Very well, but I do have one request.”, with that, he turned away from her and rummaged through her clothes, returning with something in his hand.

“Put these on.”, he half-requested, half-ordered her.

Mikasa took the item, looking it over.

“Thigh highs?”, she asked, eyeing the black material with a raised eyebrow, “Really?”

Eren just smirked at the absurdity of that statement, not judging it worthy of a reply. This was far from the weirdest thing Mikasa had put on for him, maybe even the bottom of that ladder. It doesn’t take a genius to compare a pair of thigh high socks and a skintight latex bodysuit. Eren saw these when he was doing laundry one day, and one discovery later he was hellbent in seeing his fiancé in these, knowing that she would look just amazing. And, judging now, as he was watching her put them on, he was very much correct. With her excited half-smile, Mikasa did just as he wanted, pulling the material over her long legs.

“Here.”, she said, flexing her covered toes at him, “Happy?”

“Immensely. Now…”, he approached her, a predatory grin sneaking onto his features, “Let’s get started.”

It still astonished her how good Eren got with this. Remembering their first time, how long it took him to wrap her up, how many times he had to consult the book, what was happening now was a quite different experience. Eren had determination, magical hands and a very willing model to work with, and he perfected his skills to the highest degree. The rope slid over her skin, tightening in just the right places as Eren was tying her with practiced motions. It was faster, but not too fast, the tempo just enough that Mikasa could close her eyes and feel every single touch, but not too slow so she wouldn’t get bored or restless.

Shibari was amazing especially because she could enjoy it like this. With handcuffs or other bondage gear they had, it took next to no time to lock the sub into it. Tighten a clamp, close a buckle and it was done. With ropes, it was way slower, especially thanks to the intricate design Eren was doing, but incredibly worth it. Eyes closed, she focused on her body, feeling each rub of the rope against her skin. Eren didn’t even touch her yet but Mikasa was already high on this feeling, breathing getting shaky.

With every knot, she could feel her worries melting away, retreating for now. They would be back, but for now the world narrowed to her body, the rope, and Eren’s presence all around her. The more the bondage tightened around her body the more relaxed Mikasa was, the less she could move the more she felt like she could fly. The ropes felt heavenly against the raven’s skin, their touch soft but firm. The rigging Eren put her into was beautiful, focused on her upper body. Her hands were bound behind her back and her breasts were tied, the lines created amazing patterns on her body, woven by Eren’s skilled hands. Basic yet effective, it got the job done and looked gorgeous too.

Fully tied and still on her knees, all she could do was watch as he loomed over her, a dark grin on his face, fully in his power. And as she watched, Eren took a step away from her, tugging his shirt over his head. With a few more moves, he was as naked as she, once again coming to stand right in front of Mikasa’s kneeling form. Gesturing her to stand, he watched as Mikasa scrambled up, the request made harder by her tied upper body. Face to face, Mikasa was forced to tilt her head up to look Eren in the eyes. Damn height difference. In a position like this, Mikasa expected a lot of things, or well, something at least, but when Eren did nothing but stared at her she frowned.

“What?”, she asked, unsure what was going on. Was something on her face?

“Nothing…”, reaching out, Eren gently cradled her cheek, as he definitely had a thing for touching that beautiful face, a warm smile on his lips, “You’re so incredibly pretty.”

It was crazy how strange he could be sometimes. Here she was, tied up, wearing nothing but those ropes, collar and black thigh highs and all he says is that she’s pretty. Yet it wasn’t stupid, because Eren’s words carried such deep love and appreciation in them that it made Mikasa blush. He meant every syllable. Embarrassed by how quickly he switched gears, from a bondage master to a loving boyfriend, Mikasa tried looking away, but Eren held her in place, forcing her eyes to stay at him.

“Stop that.”, she murmured, robbed of the possibility to avert her gaze.

He didn’t, smirking at the blush covering Mikasa’s cheeks.

“Cute. Miss Ackerman, you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my entire life.”

“Eren…”

“And anyone who doesn’t see that is not right in the head.”

“Stooooop.”

“Nope. Why do you think I tied you up in the first place? Now I can shower you in compliments and you can’t do anything about it.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Is that so…”

“Sure is. Worst you can do is spit on me.”

“You’d probably enjoy that perv.”

His smile was cocky.

“Maybe I would.”

Mikasa sought a way to get her balance back, and spitting wasn’t it. With most of her weapons taken from her, she decided to launch a sneak attack. Quick as an attacking snake, she lurched forward, standing up on her tippy toes to bridge the height gap between them and smacking her mouth right against his. Surprised by the kiss, Eren grabbed her by the shoulders to stabilize, very quickly realizing what’s happening and putting out his offensive.

Tongues sliding against one another, Mikasa gave up on trying to control the liplock and instead surrendered to how nicely it felt. In addition, she could feel something hard poking her abdomen, a promise of things to come if she kept this up. To her disappointment, the kiss didn’t last nearly long enough before Eren pulled back and shoved her forcefully. She fell, body hitting the soft mattress and slightly bouncing. Her tits surely bounced, much to his amusement.

“Hey!”, she protested, but Eren didn’t give her time to talk.

Crawling over her body, he kissed her with much more force, wrenching her mouth open for him. To weaken her defenses, fingers began advancing on a different battlefield, sliding over her sex with deadly intent. He spread her open, dragged a finger through and tapped her clit, knowing exactly what to do. Despite Mikasa angling her hips and everything, Eren didn’t push a finger inside though, leaving her extremely frustrated. The bastard knew it, using the distraction to completely dominate the kiss, invading her mouth, taking everything from her. She mewled underneath his weight, body jerking. Her hands, so used to tangling in Eren’s hair during kissing could only dig fingernails into her forearms. The ropes squeezed her from all sides, and Mikasa found herself growing more and more turned on by the second. Which of course played perfectly into Eren’s cards. The magical fingers danced over her body, featherlight touches that did nothing to satisfy the hunger in her. Getting tied up by her skillful lover always lit the fire in Mikasa’s belly, and this tongue action combined with the right caress stoked the flames higher and higher.

“Eren,”, she whimpered, “stop teasing.”

All he did was shake his head.

“No.”

Mikasa whined needily, using her legs and trying to push his body closer to her. Yet Eren didn’t budge, bracing himself against the admittedly very powerful force coming from Mikasa’s strong legs. The soft material of her thigh high socks slid against his skin, whispering.

“I’ll fuck you on my terms.”, he stated, resisting the tempting pull, “Or I won’t fuck you at all.”

He leaned even closer, the ends of his long hair brushing over Mikasa’s flushed face.

“You did say that you are gonna be a good girl for me, so which one will it be?”

As if he didn’t know the answer already. When Mikasa was like this, craving the dick and full of hormones, she could be very pliant.

“Please sir, do what you want with me.”, she whispered submissively.

Officially in charge, Eren took hold of one of her legs, pushing it high while keeping the other grounded. The forced angle between her lower limbs gave him a prime view of that place between her legs, so nicely pink and glistening, begging for his attention.  Still, he couldn’t help but tease her, it was way too much fun. Carefully, Eren pressed the tip of his cock ever so gently to her sopping wet entrance but no further.

Mikasa protested wordlessly, whined and whimpered and maneuvered her hips, trying to get him inside her. But Eren was experienced with teasing, so instead of giving her what she craved he continued toying with her, driving Mikasa’s already soaring arousal into a new level. It didn’t take much, a slide of his cock over her slit, letting it bump against her clit a few times and she was practically begging with her eyes. Neither of them said a word, it wasn’t needed at the moment, the symphony of their bodies was enough to communicate. That and the sounds Mikasa was making, almost like an animal in heat. It was testing for Eren too because having her like this was almost too much. She was so fucking hot, so desperate, so helplessly tied up. Her muscles moved beneath her skin, beneath his hands as she bucked and pulled, grinding herself against him. Just give it to me, her whole being said, please.

And that was about everything Eren was willing to take. With one hand on his member to steady it and the other on the girl beneath him, he guided himself into her, pressing his cock inside, pink lips parting to accept his offering. It was always pleasant like nothing else in the world, no matter how many times he experienced it. Eren gasped in pure bliss as the warmth enveloped him from all sides, making it hard to keep the slow tempo up. Still, he managed.

Eren kept both his hands occupied. One was holding Mikasa’s right leg up high, the other anchoring the left as he kept her spread and open for him. Slow but steady, he kept pushing until most of him was inside her, rubbing the inner walls as he went. Then after getting about three-quarters of his length in, he began withdrawing, once again unhurried. His length came out slick from her juices, appearing from between the parted outer lips of Mikasa’s cunt. She gasped when Eren pulled almost all the way out, only the head remaining sheathed, struggling for air, but then lost her breath again when he pushed back in. Body tensing, her legs shook where Eren held them, toes visibly curling.

Uncaring, he pushed forward, stuffing her and feeling as her walls gave way, body accommodating to the frequent visitor. Mikasa was feverish from this torture, the tempo Eren set was not enough to satisfy her flaming desire. Her head dropped onto the bed, mouth open in silent cries and moans, hands clenched into tight fists on the small of her back, bound together. The ropes kept digging into her skin when she flexed her muscles, they kept her grounded, unable to take control over the situation. She couldn’t flip Eren and take what she wanted. She could hold him down and ride him like there was no tomorrow. She couldn’t do anything, just take what he gave her.

Mikasa was incredibly tight, she always was, but Eren was relentless. The more he pushed the more her body opened for him until finally he touched the opening of her cervix. The rubbery feeling, familiar at this point, let him know that he had effectively hit rock bottom. Now he was completely inside her, bottoming out just when she couldn’t give him any more space. They really were made for one another.

Her cunt gripped him inside her hard, muscles sealing him in. Yet Eren didn’t wait. He pulled out again, almost entirely, and slid back in, only a fraction faster than before. The bump of her cervix was the signal, and he repeated the motion, and again, and again. Finally speeding up, finally picking up the tempo, Mikasa couldn’t keep the long pleasure moan inside her as it vibrated through her entire being. It was still too slow for her tastes, but it was far better than nothing. Her voice quivered, being forced to moan for him again, the fullness inside her demanding it. Mikasa arched from the bed, her body creating that perfect bridge and in response the ropes dug deeper into her skin, squeezing her breasts from all sides. He fucked her, still slow and languid, in movements that were not rushing anywhere. It was not enough, and if she was not tied up, Mikasa would have taken control of this long ago, she would….

Out of nowhere, the nice cock she was enjoying disappeared. It was gone from her heat and she was painfully empty, inner muscles clenching on nothing. Mikasa whined at the loss completely unsatisfied, loudly protesting. And again, Eren ignored her. His hand appeared, pulling hard at the ropes and she was, against her will, pulled into a kneeling position. Eren must have stood up, she realized, because facing her was not his head, but his fully erect length instead, glistening with both of their juices. The hand that pulled her body upright moved into Mikasa’s hair, taking a firm hold of the red and black strands.

“Suck me clean.”, he ordered her, exactly as demanding as Mikasa liked him to be.

With her hands tied and in a position like this, she didn’t have much choice in the matter to begin with. It was rather obvious - if she wanted to get it back inside her, she had to obey. So saying nothing, starved as she was, her cheeks red from the teasing half-fuck she got, Mikasa opened her mouth and took his throbbing cock head into her mouth. Her pink lips and warm mouth took more and more in, inch by inch she reached about halfway of Eren’s length before pulling back. The skin that was already wet from her cunt got even wetter by her mouth. Mikasa puckered her lips and spat on the cockhead where the clear droplets of pre-cum were oozing from the tip. And then she kept going.

Keeping her eyes open, she ran her tongue slowly along the underside, knowing it is a  very sensitive area. Mikasa licked him some more, like an eager cat, cleaning him exactly as she was ordered to. Then she wrapped those heavenly lips back on the swollen tip, and descended once again, mouth taking in his girth. She sucked on what was inside her, hard, making Eren groan above her, the fist in her hair tightening. He didn’t lead her, he didn’t have to, Mikasa was more than fulfilling any expectation he had.

With her mouth full of cock, Mikasa established eye contact, keeping it as she sunk lower and lower, taking more of Eren inside her mouth. Soon that was out of space, however, yet she kept going, the tip reaching the depths of her relaxed throat. Eren swore when he felt that, his eyes trained on her face, watching her pleasure him. If this was not erotic, then nothing else was.

Since her hands were tied, Mikasa couldn’t cup his balls as she usually did while giving a blowjob, couldn’t play with them, so she did her best to make up for it. The raven sucked harder and began bobbing her head, starting slowly but picking up speed. Before long the wet noise echoed in the room. From his vantage point above her, Eren had a prime view of her small, perky breasts, so nicely tied by the black and red rope, as they heaved with her efforts, nipples hard like small diamonds.

In short, Mikasa was pretty fucking good at cocksucking. She was, if anything, too good, and Eren was starting to lose himself to the feeling of her lips, her tongue adventurous as she explored all of his length. Even the light graze of teeth on the head had him gritting his own teeth. He could cum in her mouth, Eren knew that she would take it, but that wasn’t on the agenda. So, with great effort, Eren pulled at her hair, getting her greedy mouth away from his length which was now slick and completely covered in her spit.

Before she could question him, he flipped her over roughly with a strength that she wasn’t in a state to resist, Mikasa’s knees scrambling on the bedding. Eren kneeled behind her, guiding himself with one hand as he aimed for the dripping prize. The “What” died in favor of a long groan when he pushed right back inside her wet cunt, giving Mikasa no time to rest. With her hands tied behind her back, she couldn’t even brace herself against the punishing pace he set, fucking her with a clear purpose on mind. Her body shook, assaulted like this, face boiling red. As her muscles involuntarily clenched, Eren watched the tattooed wings on Mikasa’s back ripple, almost like flapping, trying to get away. But she was not going anywhere. Her hands clenched around nothing, black fingernails digging into her skin, and at the same time she tried biting into the covers to muffle herself. A motion that was not needed, as they were alone and Eren did not approve of unnecessary silence. One hand holding her waist, helping her trembling knees brace against the unrelenting assault, he reached out with the other, tangling it in her short midnight hair, now all shiny with sweat. With a yank, he brought her head up.

“Don’t.”, he growled, “Scream for me.”

And scream she did, when those deepest parts of her kept being rammed, over and over, her mind clouding over with pure and raw pleasure. Mikasa liked doggystyle, liked being taken from behind, liked the depth it allowed Eren to reach. It was even better now because Eren had that special angle figured out, that one she liked the most. He also knew that she liked being prepared first before the real rough pounding and did that too with the earlier teasing. All the checkmarks were there, all the optional objectives completed, and Mikasa was getting it exactly as she liked it. Her body was losing control, even her knees were faltering, and Eren was forced to let go of her hair to keep her ass up. Mikasa’s upper body, now with nothing anchoring it, flopped back on the bed, but she didn’t silence herself anymore. She moaned, groaned, and cried out loud, giving Eren exactly the satisfaction he wanted.

To reward her, he moved his fingers down, fingering her swollen clit. The touches were light, but in combination with the pounding she was getting from behind, it was more than enough. With each rub, with each time the head of his cock kissed that deep spot, Mikasa was getting tighter and tighter, her impressive musculature clenching hard around the invading length. The fire rising inside her, her eyes slid shut as she dragged her face over the bedding, the impeding orgasm closer and closer. It was wet, very wet, some of it leaking out as he hammered into her, dripping down over his balls. She was being stuffed like a freaking turkey, again and again, full and filled. This, this was what she craved. This was better than anything else, this was the best workout.

It felt like she was losing her mind from the incredibly intense pleasure. Eren kept going and going, so rough, throwing his gentleness in the wind. The caring boyfriend was gone, replaced by this sexual monster who was giving her the grade A dicking. There was no mental preparation she could do against the tidal wave. Her mind was shattered into thousand pieces, her body helpless, Mikasa was more or less just surviving the brutal assault on her body. She surrendered everything, burned it in the fire that was flaring through her whole body now. And with the last snap she was keeled over, inferno raging freely.

Mikasa came, and she came hard, her already loud moaning rising even higher as she didn’t muffle herself at all. She screamed out loud, body shaking, drool leaving her open lips and leaking onto the covers beneath her. Her eyes rolled back and she didn’t see anything, just white as Eren continued in his attack, not even slowing down. Her cunt was clenching hard around him, her feet, covered by the black socks, kicked the mattress repeatedly in her spasms, her fists tightened so much that the knuckles were bleeding white. She dug nails into her skin again, in a faint attempt to keep a grip on reality, but it did nothing apart from scratching herself bloody, a pain she did not even feel. Mikasa was completely lost in the stream of pleasure, defenseless. And Eren took full advantage, prolonging her orgasm as much as he could, touching and fucking her in a way that made the experience the best he could deliver.

But orgasming Mikasa was too much for any mortal man to handle, her body was a beautiful trap that was now fully triggered, the muscled passage massaging his whole length in a way nothing else in the world could imitate. He couldn’t stop himself, no matter how hard he clenched his teeth and how hard he squeezed her waist. Eren was too weak, so with a loud groan of his own, he came inside her, hips snapping until it was all over and they were both completely spent and done. It was a lot, way too much, dripping down on the covers underneath them, dirty and filthy and neither of them cared. There would be time to clean up later. Mikasa mewled in front of him, rubbing her face on the bedding, tired, happy and so thoroughly fucked that even her athletic body needed a break. Reaching over, Eren pushed the sweaty hair away from her face, smiling down at her afterwards.

“Hungry?”

They ate the cold pizza in comfortable silence, sprawled on the sofa. Mikasa, dressed only in a bathrobe after finally taking those damn thigh highs off and showering, had her legs in Eren’s lap giving her tired body the rest it deserved. The food might have been better when it arrived, but this was a trade she would take any day of the week. The pizza was good, and Mikasa was feeling sated on all fronts when they finished. Then a certain idea popped in her mind, something else that she hasn’t done in a while and would like, so turning to Eren she voiced her proposal.

“Hey babe, want to smoke some weed?”

“Weed?”

“Yeah, I got it from Sasha, long time ago actually. I’ve been keeping it for a special occasion I guess, so how about we do it now?”, seeing his puzzled expression, Mikasa’s brows rode up. “Wait, you’ve never done weed before?”

Eren shook his head.

“What about college? Everybody smoked there.”

“Not me though.”

Mikasa wasn’t a pothead, but living with Sasha, who was one, did make her try it a few times. It made her relax, and that was a valuable feeling in the otherwise stressful environment. The need increased even more when she started dating Eren and kept agonizing over fucking whatever they were having over. In time she grew out of it, and smoked only very occasionally nowadays, but if today was not the occasion then what was one.

“Wanna try it then? I still have my bong stashed.”

“Your bong? And I’ve never seen it?”, putting a hand on his heart, Eren continued, “What else are you hiding from me?”

She booped him on the nose.

“Many things, but I believe you’ll get to know them eventually. What about the smoke, you in?”

He was. After some basic tutorial, when Mikasa showed him how to use the thing, they managed to get a few good hits even with his coughing. Getting an idea, Mikasa inhaled some smoke again before leaning over and capturing Eren’s lips in a kiss. He was all for it until she breathed the smoke right into his mouth. Eren got a coughing fit, Mikasa got a laughing one, and it was mutually decided that it was enough drugs for one day.

With pizza and weed in her system, Mikasa was practically melting into the couch, so relaxed that being on cloud nine was probably the best definition of her mental state right now. Minutes passed without Mikasa doing anything, not even moving her body for once, letting her abused muscles rest. She probably fell asleep too, because now she was feeling rested and once again recharged. To see if Eren was also up in the chill heaven with her, Mikasa rolled over. He did look great, rested too, but his eyes were busy, studying the dance pole in the corner for some reason. Which, in turn, gave her yet another idea.

“Would you like a dance?”

He blinked at her, surprised.

“You’d do that for me?”

“Tsk, of course.”, she gave him a slow, sexy smile, “Go, sit down.”

Standing up, Mikasa shrugged off the bathrobe as that would only flap around. Walking over to the pole, she shot a look over her shoulder to see that Eren was watching her intently, green eyes following her every step. Knowing that she had his full attention, Mikasa began the show.

The raven didn’t do a pole dance naked before, but it wasn’t that different from the underwear she sometimes practiced in. Having the thing at home had certain advantages. The pole was still the same, solid metal beneath her hands. Mikasa didn’t do the hardest and most demanding forms, knowing that this was more for show than an actual workout. She focused on the sexy part, doing twirls and legwork, snaking herself around the pole with precision. While she was getting lost in the dance, Eren had a great time sitting back and watching. He did so often, but it never ceased to amaze him. Mikasa’s body was incredible, a well-oiled machine that moved exactly as its mistress wanted it to. Her every muscle worked exactly as she ordered, pushing the body as a whole beyond what normal humans could achieve. She could do that in the ring, often surprising her opponents just how strong and fast she was, and she could do that here too. Combine that with her gymnast-like flexibility, and this was by far the best pole dance Eren had ever seen in his life. If she was doing this professionally, Mikasa would, in his humble opinion, be world-class. Then again, this was his fiancé so he was most likely strongly biased.

She didn’t overwork herself, there was no need. This dance wasn’t to strengthen herself, it was to show off, and Mikasa did that flawlessly. By the time she was done, Eren was staring with mouth a bit open, completely bewitched by how she moved. Dark magic in high school might not be very effective, but this thing was certainly working. Putting both her feet back on the solid ground, Mikasa leaned on the pole, crooking her finger at her charmed victim.

He moved immediately, shuffling forward like a zombie, his eyes only for her. A good spell. Eren hands went for her immediately, as that dance was an incredibly foreplay and it got him fired up good and proper. The location was a bit unlucky, so Mikasa voiced her concern out loud, unsure how this would work.

“Here? You want to do it here?”

“Why not?

“I’m not opposed to it, I’m just wondering.”, she eyed the pole with a certain criticism in her gaze, “How?”

It wouldn’t be Eren if he let a simple logistic problem defeat him. Hoisting Mikasa up, he pressed her back against the metal, eyebrow raised.

“Like this?”

She shifted left and right, tried how it went but this wasn’t it. The metal was digging into her spine, making it uncomfortable.

“No, wait. Let me down.”

Eren did so immediately, taking a step back to let Mikasa come up with a better alternative. She turned around, holding the pole and bending over, presenting her butt as an offering. The arch of her back that she did, the perfect curve, it never failed to make Eren’s mouth water.

“How about like this?”, she suggested.

Yes, even her back was sexy as hell. The chiseled, firm shapes, the incredibly back muscles, the beautiful tattoo covering it, artistically interwoven into the porcelain skin. Coming close, Eren ran his hands over the two flawless globes that were Mikasa’s ass, silently admiring that unbelievably sexy shape.

“Yeah, this will do.”

It would be a damn shame to see such a meal in front of you and not having a taste. Seeing her pink outer lips, ready and waiting for him, Eren decided that it was time to once again bring out his oral skills. He knew for a fact that Mikasa adored them. Dropping down to his knees, Eren met her confused eyes with his own, giving her a wink.

“The position is perfect, but I think that I’ll go for a snack first.”

And he dived in, tongue first.

The pole was, in the end, a serviceable place to have sex at. After the deed was done, they just fell on the floor, laughing.

“You didn’t have to eat me out first, you know.”, she said, but Eren just raised an eyebrow, “We could have just fucked right away.”

“Why not? I know that you love it.”

“I do, but again?”, she trailed her hand over his lips, “You are so generous to me, it’s crazy.”

“Please, after that pole dance? I’d do anything for you, that thing was so fucking hot it was unreal. Plus, if you like something, ask for it, it’s good to be comfortable with what you enjoy.”

“That depends. I think I may be growing too comfortable with sex and such.”

“What do you mean?”

“You see, a week or something back I was checking if my catsuit, the black one, still fits me as it should, I wanted to use it that evening. You remember right?”

“Please, how could I forget?”

“Then you also remember that we had a delivery that day. And when the bell rang, guess who almost opened the door wearing a freaking latex bodysuit.”

“Aw, that wouldn’t be so bad though, you could always salvage that situation.”

“How exactly? How could I escape the thousand and one news articles saying: “the freaky sex life of the Azumabito’s cover girl exposed!“ Somehow I don’t think that Kiyomi would be all that happy with me.”

“You’d just have to spin the story. Make it look like you are training for a Catwoman cosplay.”

“Yeah, only if Halloween wasn’t a year away, right?”

“Maybe he would believe you, you never know. Anyway, why were you wearing it?”, he poked her in the stomach, feeling the abs shift beneath his touch, “I didn’t notice you gaining weight or anything.”

“I don’t know, I just..”, she was blushing now, looking away, “I like how it feels on my skin, even when the latex is a pain in the ass to get into. Once I finally put it on, I didn’t feel like taking it off.”

When he didn’t say anything to that confession, she looked back at his face.

“Not gonna tease me?”

“Why would I? I’m glad that you enjoy it because I surely do. You look like a goddess in it.”

“Goddes of BDSM? That’s what you called me right?”

“Sure did, and we both know that I'm just saying the truth.”

The mental picture in his head Eren another idea, so he continued.

“So how about….”

But Mikasa cut him off.

“No, I’m not putting it on now. Way too much work.”

“Oh well, can’t blame me for trying.”

“I’m not. But we can have fun even without the suit, can’t we?”

She leaned closer, almost kissing him but not really, her lips only millimeters away when she spoke.

“Any ideas?”

Eren closed the distance hungrily, capturing the elusive tease in a wild kiss before flipping them over and pushing her down, fully intent on showing her just how much fun they can indeed have.

She grumbled a bit in discomfort when Eren kept pushing until her legs were on her shoulders, completely doubling her over.

“Are we fucking or doing yoga?”, she asked.

“Can’t it be both?”

Mikasa rolled her eyes at him, and there was no way he was letting that go unanswered. Moving forward, he kept a firm hold on her ankles, forcing her body to bend even more for him, abusing the flexibility she had. Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t protest again, letting Eren do as he pleased. Yet that stern expression fell completely apart when he pushed back into her, the position giving him premium access to her sex.

“Didn’t you learn anything in all these years of fighting?”, he whispered pulling back, but when Mikasa opened her mouth to answer he pushed back in, so all that came out of her was a moan. The bastard.

With a grin, he finished his thought.

“Never forget to stretch.”

He was taking it slow, languidly kissing every tattooed feather on her back. The action was very loving and unhurried, in stark contrast to the bruising lovemaking from before, but Mikasa welcomed it all the same.

“Your back is so sexy.”, he whispered in between the kisses. “It does things to me.”

“My back? Is there a part of me that is not sexy?”

“Nope. You are the perfect female specimen.”, the kisses trailed from one shoulder blade to the other, “So, are you ready for another round, princess?”

“Sure, but I’m not moving.”, she eyed him over her shoulder, a smug smirk on her face, “Do your best.”

She more felt than heard Eren’s low chuckle. It was his own damn fault, Mikasa was resting, lying on her side and staring into nothing in particular when he slithered over and started his slow worship of her tattooed skin. Not that Mikasa was opposed to it, but she wasn’t going to just get up because of him.

“I can work with that.”, he growled, his hand wrapping around her thigh.

And he did just that, parting her legs and slipping in from behind. Yet he didn’t push in, keeping his head just shy of penetration, just barely parting her outer lips. It was a technique he developed, the fastest way to get Mikasa to talk about something she would normally blush and hide her face for. Dangle the carrot in her reach but not give it to her, keep her on the edge. Mikasa’s reaction was fast. She whined, stirred her hips, tried to get Eren to slip into her. He held fast.

“Any reason for your sudden laziness?”

As expected, she answered immediately, wanting nothing more for than for Eren to just shut up and fuck. Literally.

“We haven’t done this position in a while, and I like it.”, she curled her body, sticking out her butt for easier access, “I can just lie here as the little spoon while you do all the work.”

“Miki, just say the word and I’ll do the whole Kamasutra with you.”

She giggled at that, delighted.

“You think that there is a lot we haven’t tried?”

It wasn’t the first time one of them was feeling adventurous, and that usually led to a tryout for a new position randomly found on the internet. Thanks to Mikasa’s body, work of art on its own, so far they have never been unable to do the thing. The results ranged from absolutely terrible and borderline painful that were immediately dropped to some that Mikasa loved. Eren wasn’t much of a connoisseur in this, if he had a preference it was being able to see Mikasa’s face, a cheesy line that never failed to make her blush.

“For sure. Don’t underestimate how creative some people are.”

“No rush, let’s take it one by one.”, rubbing herself on Eren’s length more, she once again voiced her need, “So quit stalling and put it in.”

Pressing forward, Eren filled her, the position and angle allowing his cock to reach a great depth within her. It also gave him prime access to both Mikasa’s neck and ears, places where she was highly sensitive. Taking full advantage he mouthed her ear, tonguing the piercings before whispering.

“Your wish is my command.”

Sometimes, even being the peak specimen, they needed a break. It was a haze, madness, and Mikasa doubted that it was the weed. They were drunk and high, but not on drugs, on each other. And now that she thought about it, she was ready for another dose. Looking over where Eren was, Mikasa decided that it was time to see if her supplier had something in stock for her. Also, she could ask what the status was on the little endurance contest they had going on. There was no way in hell that an Ackerman was losing – as long as she was breathing, Mikasa would never admit defeat. She rolled on top of Eren, seating herself on her fallen lover.

“How are you doing, loser?”

He scoffed up at her, hands taking hold of her hips.

“I didn’t give up yet.”

“Then what was that:”, Mikasa dropped her voice lower, doing her best to imitate Eren’s tone, “M-Miki please, I c-can’t…. Not again… Oh god…”

She interlaced her speech with a lot of groans and moaning to drive her point home. In turn, his hands on her waist tightened, halting the back-and-forth rocking Mikasa was doing to illustrate her point. Not only to stop her making fun of him, but also because it was doing things to him that he was not yet ready to follow through with.

“I feel like you’re mocking me.”, he growled.

She quirked an eyebrow.

“Whatever gave you that idea?”

“It’s not that I mind, but It is kind of hypocritical.”

“Why is that?”

“I do remember a foot on my head, pushing me away from someone’s pussy, because”, now it was Eren doing the imitating, pushing his voice higher to match Mikasa’s “Babe, I-I ne-need a minute, It’s to-too m-much…”

She frowned at him.

“Oral is cheating.”

That made him laugh, the sound shaking his body beneath her thighs. Seated as she was, it shook Mikasa too.

“So me eating you out is cheating, but you sucking my soul out is fine?”

“Well it’s fair, you get to use ropes so it’s balanced.”

“I don’t remember having the monopoly on that,”, Eren’s fingers started doing those small circles on Mikasa’s hipbones, a more or less unconscious reflex at this point, “You can tie me up too, if you want…”

“I need way more gear to do it right, you grab a rope and…”, she made a booming gesture, “Blow my mind.”

Not sure how to react to such a compliment, Eren just smiled. Because what is the right reaction when your girlfriend tells you that you are very good at rope bondage?

“Thanks. I love you too my rope bunny.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a term I found on the internet while doing some err.. research. Apparently it’s a person who enjoys being bound so.”, he tapped her on the thigh, “You.”

Mikasa considered it for a moment but then shook her head.

“Nope, I don’t like it. Drop it.”

“Really? It’s kinda cute…”

However, she was decided. Reaching over Eren’s chest, she tapped him, hard, right in the middle. At the same time, her voice got filled with that murderous low tone that always made Eren shiver, and not in a good way. Mikasa was terrifying when she wanted to be and it didn’t matter that she was naked and seated on top of him. It was like flipping a switch – at first, she was the sexiest thing alive and then switch she made Eren want to salute and straighten his back while also cowering in fear at the same time. One of a kind.

“Drop. It.”

Well, he tried.

“Yes my queen.”

She rewarded him with a smile.

“Now that’s more like it. Know your place, fuckboy.”

“Really?”

“You’re experimenting, I’m experimenting. But don’t worry, I don’t like that one either, I think that I’ll stick with Eren.”

He snorted beneath her.

“Thanks.”

Pleased by how quickly he obeyed, Mikasa ran her hands over his firm body, stopping the cup his once again hard member.

“Now look,”, she purred, “ Is this for me?”

She was so immersed in the kiss that she didn’t even realize where Eren was taking her. But when Mikasa’s naked skin slid along something slightly fuzzy and soft, she had to break away to see. Oh. A pool table. Her thoughts got jumbled right after, because after Eren so unceremoniously dumped her on the table, he parted her thighs and bowed his head, going to work. Eren was an artist with his mouth, so whatever Mikasa wanted to ask was promptly forgotten, and didn’t resurface until after she came, her body writhing on top of that strange new surface.

“Why do we even have a pool table?”, she panted the question out, “It’s not like we use it.”

Eren looked like he didn’t want to answer, too absorbed in lining himself up properly, not even bothering with wiping his face. But when Mikasa tugged on his hair, he did raise his eyes.

“We are using it right now.”, he said, making Mikasa giggle.

“I don’t think that the table was designed for fucking.”

“Doesn’t matter. WE bought it, we can use it for what we want to.”

He stopped all of a sudden, the tip of his member just touching Mikasa’s sex, only the slightest part inside her velvety heat.

“Should I get off of you and set the table?”, he even had the indecency to smirk down at her, “We can play pool if you want, sink some balls.”

Instead of answering, Mikasa wrapped her legs around him and pulled hard, basically forcing Eren to slide into her in one quick motion. As he didn’t expect it, Eren made the most embarrassing moan, eyes widening.

“Maybe later.”, she said, “For now, forget the balls and focus on sinking Into me.”

Eren didn’t need to be told twice, bracing himself on the pool table, he drove into her, once again taking control of the situation. That didn’t mean that Mikasa stopped moving, her hips were still rising to meet his, her legs kept pushing and pulling in sync with the movements, she was very much an active party. With that much friction given by the cloth on the pool table, her body wasn’t sliding that much, something Eren was grateful for. He could drive into her with more force, a notion Mikasa appreciated with a deep purr in her throat. And when she closed her eyes and craned her neck, getting closer and closer to the edge, a single thought flashed through her mind.

You know what, maybe the pool table wasn’t such a bad investment.

His fingers trailed her ass, passing her sex and moving until the tips pressed against the other hole.

“What about here?”, Eren asked, “Another thing we haven’t done in a while.”

True enough, and Mikasa nodded almost enthusiastically. She did remember that it could feel really good, with adequate preparation that is, and Eren was trained enough to know that.

“Get the lube.”

While Eren retrieved the item, Mikasa scrambled herself up to the hands and knees position, presenting her ass the best she could. Eren appreciated it with a hum and gentle caress of her butt. The fingers that probed into her Mikasa expected, relaxing her muscles and pushing back to help Eren slide in. At this point, they were rather experienced with this. After one finger came two, stretching her out in preparation for the sex. Or so she thought. Wrongly, because the next thing that came after Eren withdrew his hand wasn’t his cock, unless it froze when Mikasa wasn’t looking. The object was warmed a bit, by his mouth she guessed, but still colder than what she thought was going to slip inside her. It wasn’t that hard to guess that it was a plug.

“I th-thought we are going to f-fuck.”, she panted out, words hard to form while Eren worked the toy into her butt.

“You said it yourself, there is no rush.”, he pulled back a bit, once again stretching her with the widest part, “I want you to be prepared.”

Eren had a plan, and when he had a plan Mikasa didn’t argue. It was much more fun to simply play along. Once she was properly plugged, Eren smirked on the image in front of him. The toy had a heart-shaped decoration at the end, which was now settled between her cheeks, creating a rather pleasing view. This stage done, he stood up, meeting Mikasa’s unsteady gaze and red cheeks.

“Wanna watch a movie?”

The stare she gave him was hilarious, but Eren didn’t blame her. It was a strange thing to ask. In way of answering the unspoken “What the fuck?” question, he fished out the toy’s remote control from his pocket.

“I promise it’s gonna be fun.”

Seeing that he was completely serious, Mikasa let out a frustrated laugh, shaking her head. Eren was impossible sometimes. Getting up from her compromising position, she had to bite her bottom lip to keep the moan the toy’s shift inside her produced. And she played along.

“Okay, let me get dressed.”

Eren wasn’t lying, the movie was fun, made even better by the random vibration that certain someone kept sending through her body, building that mountain of frustration inside her. Yet she held, knowing that this was the game, a small friendly wager if she could hold herself back until it was over. In her stubbornness, she couldn’t let the smug devil that was her boyfriend have this one. Yet as soon as the movie was over, Mikasa was right on top of him, growling in the animalistic desire.

“Get your fucking dick out.”

And for the second time in a few hours, Eren had the feeling that disagreeing would cost him a few broken bones. Only a feeling, as Mikasa wouldn’t hurt him, but it was there and it made him shiver once again. Angry Mikasa was scary, and horny Mikasa wasn’t that far behind. Making peace with his fate, which was some incredible anal sex with Mikasa’s firm and shapely backside, Eren surrendered, saying the same phrase that he did not that long ago.

“Yes my queen.”

It was sunny outside, which meant that it was day, yet Mikasa could not care less. She didn’t know if Eren was passed out or not, lying next to her in their love nest, or if he was simply silently recharging for the next round. She was tired, beyond tired even, but in the best of ways, worn out by the most pleasant physical activity she knew besides fighting.  They’ve been at this for what, hours? Days? Mikasa lost count on how many times they finished each other off. If there ever was marathon sex than this was it. In accordance with her previous wish, Eren found an article online and they tried several new positions as well as dusted off some places they haven’t had sex on in a while. She was satisfied in every way, and it was only the stupid competition they had that made her reach out, poking Eren in the crotch. He groaned, eyes opening to look into hers. Grey meeting green, Mikasa smirked at him, pressing her palm against the soft member. She used him so much, the raven wasn’t sure if Eren even could get hard anymore.

“Seriously Miki?” he hissed, voice as tired as she felt, “What am I to you? A sexbot?”

With a giggle, Mikasa once again rolled on top of him, taking her favorite seat.

“Of course, why else would I spend all these years training you?”, her hand dragged down over his face, making a brief stop at his lips before descending to lay flat against Eren’s beating heart, “I’m just collecting on my time investment. With interest.”

“Large fucking interest, if I say so myself.”

“That’s how it works babe. And…”, she scooted closer, gracefully, whispering into his ear, “I don’t hear you complaining.”

“Kinda hard to..”

“Besides,”, she pulled back again, “Wasn’t it you who said, and I quote: “blowjob is an art”?”

“That was years ago!”, he whined, cursing Mikasa and her perfect memory, “I was eighteen and just got some action for the first time in my life! I was trying to motivate you since you didn’t seem that much into it at the beginning…”

“Geez, I wasn’t super stoked about having a dick down my throat. Who could have ever guessed that!”

“I mean…”

She waved his protest aside.

“Its fine, fine. I learned to like it anyway, with practice. My point is, you have all this big talk about that and you don’t think that eating pussy is not? You know how many times I had to guide you, step by step, to tell you exactly what to do and how I like it?”

“I remember Miki.”, he grinned up at her, “I was there.”

“Well then you know how many hardships I had to endure to get you to the point you are at now.”, she huffed in satisfaction, once again gently caressing Eren’s cheek, “Perfectly serviceable lover, finely tuned specifically for my pleasure. You know every position I like, every sensitive part of my body, everything.”

She tapped him on the nose.

“So why the hell wouldn’t I use you as much as I can?”, shifting her weight, so more of her naked ass was pressing right against Eren’s length, she smiled when feeling the familiar hardening, “Your body agrees with me.”

“You don’t play fair.”, he accused her.

“All is fair in love and war.”, she countered straight back.

Mikasa was obviously dead set on getting off again, but Eren still felt like his thing wasn’t ready, so he switched his voice into a pleading one.

“Mercy, please. I need to recharge, not everyone has a body like you do.”

A body that was an almost never tiring machine, capable of a wide variety of activities – everything from fighting to fucking and many more. Sex is a physical effort too, and unless Eren tied her up, Mikasa was very much active during it. The thing is, Eren could push Mikasa to her limits, exhaust her just as well as she did it to him, but he needed the assistance of his wide variety of sex toys. Here, skin to skin, with Mikasa unbound and only one butt plug to assist him, he was finding himself outmatched. Not by a large margin mind you, he more than held his own and Mikasa was perfectly satisfied with his performance, but it wouldn’t be her if she didn’t push for more. Overcome your limits, not only in the ring but in the bedroom too.

Yet it was very important to understand when your partner cannot perform anymore, and Mikasa was a generous goddess.

“Fine,”, she agreed, backing down, “ I don’t want to break you after all.”

“Why is that?”

A wink.

“You are my favorite toy.”

The line rang once, twice, thrice, fourth and then fifth time, making Levi frown. Mikasa was usually quite reliable when it came to answering his calls, she knew he didn’t do it unless there was something of importance to discuss. Just as he was about to end the call and try later, there was a crack and a familiar voice.

“Mikasa’s phone, Eren here.”

“Hey, can you give me the brat? I need to talk to her.”

“Sorry, but she’s at the shower right now. Should I give her a message?”

Levi sighed. Of course, she was busy when he needed her - that was just his luck.

“Fine, tell her to swing by tomorrow, we need to talk about the sponsorship shit from Hizuru.”

“I’ll let her know.”

“Good, good. You take care Eren.”

“You too Levi, see you.”

Putting the phone down, Eren ended the call. Carefully, he put it back on the dresser, turning around. What he told Levi wasn’t entirely accurate – Mikasa wasn’t in a shower, but she was very much unable to accept the call in her current situation. The smug smile spread over his face, Eren took a minute to admire her current situation, as it was his handiwork. If he wanted to be honest with Levi, he could have said that his fiancé is a bit tied up at the moment.

Mikasa was standing, or rather balancing herself, on just the toes of one of her legs. The other was pulled up and bent at the knee, secured in that position by ropes. Those sneaked all the way over her body, like a web, immobilizing her completely. Her torso and breasts were tied too, several crisscrossing lines that made a very nice pattern against her pale skin. Mikasa’s hands were tied behind her back, forearms pressed together. Two lines also ran down her abs, between the forcefully spread thighs and framed her sex, positioned so they would rub against her outer lips, teasing and not fulfilling. All these ropes connected at the top, leading up the ceiling where they were anchored, suspending her in the air. Eren calculated the height so the only part of her that could touch the ground here the tips of her left leg’s toes, her weight was held up by the ropework itself. And that was not all.

There were clamps on her nipples, small weight pulling them down. Her chest and abdomen were full of red wax stains, remnants from a little candle fun they had earlier. Even gagged, she made the cutest sounds when he dripped the hot substance on her nipples. Mikasa's eyes were hidden behind a thick blindfold and her mouth was held open by the aforementioned black ballgag, drool trickling down her chin. The silver letters on her collar glistened when she moved her head, moaning weakly into the rubber. Eren didn’t blame her. Pulling the remote control from his pocket, he increased the vibrations on the egg vibrator hidden deep inside her cunt. She reacted immediately, the moan changing into a long whine as Mikasa craned her neck, muscles tensing as she swayed in the rigging. He had been playing with her body for some time now, using several toys and instruments, making her extremely sensitive at this point.

Retrieving the flogger from where he dropped it once Mikasa’s phone started ringing, Eren walked over to where she was bound. Her head angled towards him once he drew near, searching, a non-descript sound coming from behind the gag. It was most likely her begging, Eren realized, circling her suspended body. He did a good job – the rope was as much of decoration, in the complicated shapes he created, as it was a restraint -the ropework was beautifully done, not leaving a single part of her body unbound. Even the tattooed wings on Mikasa’s back were crossed over by a rope, completing the illusion of a captured angel, fully at his mercy. And the devil was here to play.

Not hitting her yet, Eren dragged the flogger over her body, loving how she tensed against the soft touch. Her ass was nicely red, also his doing, whipped into that pretty color. It reminded him of the wax he dripped on her, stuck to Mikasa’s heated sweaty skin. There was also the end of the anal hook there, protruding from between her flawless buttcheeks, the clip smartly secured to the ropes around her body, pulled tightly. It was doubly as cruel now because hanging in the air like this, Mikasa had almost no control over it. Suspended, a part of Mikasa’s weight was carried by the hook itself, so the pressure was unrelenting. And when her body spasmed, either from pain or pleasure, it pulled at the hook and it shifted in her, merciless. It was truly a hellish contraption that he had bound his lover into. There was a lot he had done to her so far, and Eren could see the result of his efforts rather clearly. The proof of her arousal and enjoyment was running down Mikasa’s strong thighs, glistening and mixing with the sweat, soaking the ropes that tied her legs, held her helplessly open for him to have fun with.

Inspection done, Eren circled her completely, coming back to stand in front of her. Reaching down, he took hold of her face, turning her to him. Very carefully, he pushed the sweat matted short locks from her face, knowing how hyper-aware she is of his every touch. With your senses gone, the remaining ones tend to sharpen, Eren knew that for a fact as he was often put into a similarly vulnerable position on Mikasa’s dom days.

He was sure that Mikasa was looking at him, although he couldn’t see it through the blindfold, most likely begging with her eyes in addition to the muffled sounds leaking from behind the gag alongside the drool. He had the tied-up angel’s full attention.

“So…”, he drawled, thumbing her scar gently, knowing that there would be enough time to get rough in a moment. Eren was far from being done with her.

“Remind me kitten, where were we?”

[sams-sass]

The Others Pt 6

I’m back!!!! Here is the next part to ‘The Others’. Thank you guys so much for all the love and as always, stay sassy. 

Summary: The meaning of the case is discovered. Jenny needs your help. 

Pairing: Sam x Psychic!Reader

Read Parts One through Five and Seven Here

Part One

Part Two 

Part Three

Part Four 

Part Five

Part Seven

Warnings: Talk of violence (kinda)

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

You were asleep on the couch with a book laying on your chest. Your hand was hanging off the side, Sam’s hand laying directly under it from where you had fallen asleep holding hands. Your face was twitching as your head thrashed on the pillow. Sweat coated your skin and your breath came in short and ragged gasps.

All the frat boys were standing around the table in the basement. There bodies were covered in bruises and their eyes were a deep onyx. There was another man there that you didn’t recognize. He was older than the others and you didn’t understand why he was there in the basement. He had a large smile on his face that looked ghastly against the darkness of the situation. He turned his head slightly and you caught a glimpse of his eyes, a pale and spotted yellow. He looked directly at you. Directly into your eyes.

“Hello, Y/N, I have waited so so long.” His voice was grossly cheery in the dank basement.

You sat up and pulled a long a deep breath into your lungs, your hand coming up to grab your chest. Tears and sweat mixed together on your cheeks as you closed your eyes and tried to calm down, licking your lips. You heard deep breathing next to you, you turned and saw Sam sitting up straight next to you. His skin was covered with sweat same as yours, his eyes wide and frantic. He was panting into the night too. He looked at you, his mouth open and his face scrunched. He swallowed thickly and you watched his throat work.

“What did you see?” You asked him, your legs swinging over the side of the couch so you could crouch next to him.

“I-yellow-him-he’s. Dean!” Sam screamed for his brother. He was terrified, you could see it in his eyes and hear it in the way he fumbled over his words. One word stood out to you. Yellow. Did Sam have the same vision you did? Was it a vision? He looked directly at you, like he was speaking to you. That had never happened before. Your visions had never interacted with you like that. You were scared too. Your hands shaky and your skin cold. Dean bolted down the stairs, his feet pounding against the wood. His gun was drawn in front of him and his face was hard. He saw you and Sam and immediately dropped his hands, racing over to the two of you. He knelt down too, grabbing Sam’s shoulder. It was then that he seemed to notice you were there too. His eyes looked over your sweaty and frantic appearance.

“What happened?” He asked his brother, his green eyes looked over his entire face before looking back at you.

“I had another vision.” You said, your voice sounded strangled.

“So did I.” Sam nodded. His hand coming up and clasping onto Dean’s shoulder.

“The yellow eyed demon, Dean. I saw him. He’s with he frat boys.” Sam was starting to relax slightly, his breathing was beginning to resume back to normal. Just then Bobby rounded the corner, a shot gun in his hands. He looked at the three of you all grouped together and lowered his gun, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Someone wanna fill me in?” He said, looking at Sam directly.

“Bobby, I saw…I saw the demon. Yellow eyes, he is in the frat house.” As Sam spoke you saw horror cross over Bobby’s face.

“What the hell is going on?!” You almost shouted. “He knew my name! He talked to me! Who is he?” You ran your fingers through your hair and looked from Sam to Dean to Bobby then back to Sam.

“Y/N.” Sam reached out to you. His fingers curling around your arms. You watched his face soften at your outburst.

“He knew your name?” Dean asked you.

“Yes, he said that he has waited for me for a long time.” You fell against Sam and felt his arms surround you, but you didn’t miss the look exchanged between Bobby and Dean.

“What?” You looked up at Sam from where you were curled against his chest.

“Y/N, this demon, yellow eyes, he killed our mom.” Sam was looking away from you slightly, his head hung with grief. “He killed our mom and Jess, my girlfriend from college.” There was so much pain behind his eyes as he spoke. You looked at Dean and then at Bobby who was looking right at you.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” You didn’t know what else to say. You felt so bad for them, their life was like a horror movie. The more you learned about their life the more sorrow you felt for them, they were good men who were forced around unspeakable horrors. You wrapped your arms around Sam’s neck and arched your back into him. You felt him burrow his face into your shoulder. He was terrified. This demon scared him more than anything.

“None of this makes any sense.” Dean said after he walked over to Bobby. He was hurting just like Sam was. Bobby looked at him and shook his head.

“No, no it doesn’t.” He agreed with Dean, his voice deep with confusion.

 --------------------------

Twenty minuets later you were once again elbow deep in books. All of you were reading page after page.

“Holy crap.” Sam said, standing up from the couch and walking over to Bobby’s desk. He placed the book down and pointed.

“The Unholy Trinity.” Bobby read, his eyebrows were knitted together.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Dean said, standing up and walking over to the book.

“The Unholy Trinity is made of Lucifer, Beelzebub, and Azazel.” You all exchanged looks as realization settled deep into your minds. That’s why they were rising Beelzebub, to be part of the Unholy Trinity.

“I’m not sure who Azazel is but it can’t be good. What the hell are we going to do?” Sam leaned against the desk, his head hung in agony.  

“This is way beyond our pay grade.” Dean said, his eyes still roaming the page.

“There is more. I was reading about this ritual they are doing to raise Beelzebub. It needs an insane amount of power to be performed. Any idea where they are getting power?” Bobby asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“How can they get this power?” You asked, standing up now too.

“Easiest is trapped spirits. Their energy is just kind of there for the taking if you know how to harness it.” Bobby shrugged.

“Sam, the spirits. The ones who attacked me.” You turned to face him and grabbed his arm.

“Of course!” He said, fully turning towards you now and smiling at you.

“They are using their power to bring up Beelzebub. That’s why they were so angry.” Dean said, putting more pieces together with you and Sam. You nodded and then it suddenly hit you. Your smile fell from your face and you gasped, looking into Sam’s eyes.

“Oh my god. Jenny.” You suddenly ran from the room and bounded up the stairs. That brand. You knew it had something to do with this ritual. She had been sleeping so much. They were draining her. You barged into the room, the door flying open. Jenny didn’t even flinch against the sound, her body was still and crumpled into itself on the bed in the morning light. You walked over to her and placed your hands on her, she continued to sleep through your touch and the noise of the boys running up the stairs. Her skin was pale and she looked older. Like she had aged a few years overnight. There were wrinkles near her eyes that had never been there before. You shook her slightly. Her eyes were still closed. When you shook her again her sweatshirt moved slightly, and that’s when you saw the light on her skin.

“Sam.” You said as you moved the material down slightly. The brand on her chest was illuminated a bright orange and a fiery red.

“What the hell?” Dean asked. The four of you stood over Jenny as she continued to sleep through the movement and noise. You reached over and touched the brand.

Brandon stood next to Jenny, an evil and malevolent smile on his face as he grabbed the metal. He looked at the branding wand in his hand, the metal a hissing red, yellow, and orange. He smiled once again and pulled Jenny’s shirt down, slamming the brand onto her skin. Her violent and hysterical screams surrounded them in the cold basement. He then pulled up the sleeve on his shirt and placed the brand on his own skin. He didn’t even flinch.

You’re eyes blinked and you fell back slightly against the closest body to you which happened to be Dean, he caught you. His hands grabbed your arms and spun you around to look at him. There were tears running down your face and your hands came up to cover your face. Sam grabbed you and wrapped you tightly against him. Your head falling into his chest, his hands running over your skin. The callouses on them leaving small trails down your arms.

“They are draining her.” You sniffled and turned to face Bobby and Dean. “That’s what the brand is, Brandon has one too. He is using it to feed off of her for energy.” You wiped your eyes and swallowed your emotions.

“That’s why it was so easy to take her. It didn’t matter, they already had what they wanted from her.” Dean said looking back at Jenny. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly, her head swaying with the movement. She stirred slightly, her eyelids fluttering. She was trying to wake up. You could feel the frustration coming off her.

“We gotta break the bond.” Bobby said, he was watching Jenny’s eyes roll in her head.

“How?” You asked, looking over at him.

“I got one idea, you aint gonna like it.” He tilted his head to the side and cocked one eyebrow.

 -----------------------------

The five of you were now in the living room once again. Jenny was laid out on the couch, you were pulling the top of her shirt down so the brand was exposed. Your other hand was holding hers. Dean sat behind her, his hands on her shoulders and her head resting in his lap. The two of you were going to hold her down. You knew this was the only thing to try, but it was killing you to see her in more pain. Bobby walked over with the fire pick in his hand. The tip was hot, almost molten looking. He nodded at you, seeing the tears already forming in your eyes before he placed it against Jenny’s skin. Her eyes shot open and she immediately tried to turn from the pain, but Dean held her thrashing body down against the couch. You could see the pain in Dean and Sam’s face from listening to her scream. Bobby pulled the stick off her skin leaving a line through the brand made by Brandon. Jenny shot up and took a long a deep breath into her lungs. You watched as the color and youthful glow returned to her face, her eyes had their shine back. She grabbed her chest where the brand was and grimaced, her face contorting in pain. You took her hands in yours and found her eyes, silently telling her that it was ok. She wrapped her arms around you and pulled you into a tight hug.

“I could hear you and feel you, I just couldn’t wake up.” She whispered into your hair.

“It’s ok, Jen. Your ok now.” You pressed your face into her neck and closed your eyes, praying for this to all be over.

“Lets get you cleaned up.” Dean said, standing from the couch and reaching out a hand. Jenny pulled away from you slightly and smiled before putting her hand in his and walking to the kitchen table.

 ------------------------

Dean and Jenny sat at the kitchen table just like they had every other morning since they got here. Dean had a rag in his hand and a bowl full of clean water in front of him. He had gauze, antibacterial gel, bandages and ice cubes to the side as well. Just like he had every other morning, he gently rubbed each of Jenny’s cuts with the cloth and clean water, apologizing every time she flinched. He handed her a cloth with ice cubes in it so she could place it on her still burning brand. He rubbed antibacterial gel over the wounds and covered them with bandages.

“So there’s another demon now?” Jenny asked, her eyebrows coming together on her forehead.

“Yeah, and he’s one nasty son of a bitch.” Dean responded, his face one of concentration while he worked.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take.” Jenny looked directly into Dean’s eyes, letting the sadness wash over her. Dean reached up and placed his hand on her shoulder, looking back into her eyes.

“I know, we’re going to do whatever we can to help you.” He promised her, his eyes only holding truth within them.

“I know.” She let herself smile in spite of everything she was feeling.

 -------------------------

You were outside in the junk yard trying to wrap your brain around everything that was happening in your life. Just a week ago you were a normal college girl, trying to get her degree and start a life. You laid your head against your hand and closed your eyes, feeling the sun warm your skin. You were exhausted, you hadn’t slept well since this whole thing started and it was beginning to weigh on you. Your skin and muscles felt heavy against your bones. Your eyes hurt from lack of rest and your mind felt fuzzy. You felt hands around your waist and knew it was Sam instantly. You let your body fall against his, your head resting against his expansive and muscular chest.

“Don’t worry, Dean and I will fight and figure all this out.” He kissed your head and let his left hand travel down your stomach and play with the waistband of your jeans.

“What do you mean?” You asked, turning to face him. A questioning look sitting on your face.

“Me and Dean, we will go back to the college and stop the ritual from happening.” Sam explained, his face innocent as his dimples showed through.

“The hell you will. This is my fight too now, Sam!” You said, your eyebrows lowering.

“Y/N, I’m not going to let you get hurt. You don’t know what we are up against. Dean and I are trained for this.” He tried to explain, his shoulders hunching.

“Then what was all that bullshit with you showing me how to shoot and fight?” You stepped away from him and crossed your arms over your chest.

“That was just in case. I can’t watch you get hurt, Y/N.” Sam stepped towards you and ran his hand over your neck, his fingers splaying over your skin.

“I don’t want to get hurt, but now these guys are after me and what I am just going to hide here with Bobby? No, this is something we all need to take care of together, all of us. We have something special, Sam. I can feel it when you touch me, when you look at me, when you kiss me. I can feel it inside me, growing every day. I don’t fully understand it, but I’ll be dammed if I go let you fight some demons who want to sacrifice me without me.” You were angry now, the flames inside you being fanned.

“I can’t lose anyone else, Y/N, when I lost Jess I could barely go on. The only thing that kept me going was this rage. I can’t lose you too. I don’t think I could come back from that.” He placed his other hand around your waist and pulled you to him once again.

“We are stronger together, Sam. I wanna be with you when this all goes down. I wanna be by your side during this fight. I want us to walk away from this together, stronger than before. Your my other half, Sam Winchester. I can feel that deep in my gut. Let me be there for you now.” You placed both hands on his chest and looked up at him. His grip tightened around you and his lips grazed your hairline. His thumb ran under your jaw and lifted it up slightly, his fingers squeezing the back of your neck.

“We leave at dawn.” He mumbled before his lips crashed against yours, leaving you speechless.

 ------------------------

The next morning you all piled into the impala and waved Bobby goodbye. You held the charms Bobby gave you in your hands. This was it, the last breath before the fight. You were jittery in the back seat, your hands twisting in your lap. There was an electrical energy running through the car. The boys were about to meet the demon they had searched for their whole life. You were about to confront the thing that wanted you dead. One thought kept racing through your mind: what did he mean by he waited for me? Did you matter to him more than just a sacrifice. There were so many questions that needed answers. You just hoped that you weren’t biting off more than you could chew. You glanced at Sam and felt a calming wave run over you. You were falling hard and fast. You had to see this through. Had to be with him. Every ounce of you craved him. You knew now that taking this step would seal the rest of your life. Taking this step with Sam meant that danger would always be in the shadows. Things would always want to kill you. Your life would never be the same, but you would have Sam. And that made it all worth it.

Tags: @watermelonlipstick @virtualheaderssupernaturalnerd @wnchetrs​ @deanlovespiebabyandmeloljkiwish​ @lukawats​ @that-one-gay-girl​

[bangtansfavwriter]

📖✏bangtan as college students:jungkook✏📖

-the cute, quiet guy in class who will just stare at you when you ask him if you could borrow his notes from last week bc u were ill

- taehyung will apologise for his friend, nudge jk, which will snap him back to reality

- apologises and says that his notes are messy anyways, bc he takes notes in a way that only he understands

-you started talking after that bc he had to decode that shit to you

-shy bean turns out to be a super goofy dude who is scarily organized but with a system only he understands, and it works out for him, his grades are pretty good

- junior dance instructor as the campus dance lessons, besties with his senior, jung hoseok

-jimin and you both tutor him sometimes bc he has problems in some lectures

-one day, you were chilling at yours and you said that you guys should practice for an English presentation and hes like "I gotta clear my head first" and goes for a run, which u would understand in every normal circumstance, except it's 1 am and you're like "???????"

-he comes back like 30 mins later, but he doesnt look sweaty at all and you're just confused as hell + he comes back with a box of donuts which leaves you even more confused

-he did indeed go for a run, was actually back at yours after 20 mins

-turns out he stopped by at yoongi's bc he saw the lights on, "hyung said he'd give me donuts if I leave and I thought you'd appreciate it"

-supreme chaotic energy but he means well

-will lowkey have an aneurysm whenever he sees ur messy room

-cherries are a running gag between you two, bc after you went over to his place the first time and you became hungry after a while, opened his fridge and burst out laughing after seeing what was inside of his fridge: cheese strings, leftover jajangmyeon, 5 packs of banana milk (which was nothing new to you) and maraschino cherries ("I like the finer things in life y/n" - "sure..." - he stared at you without a word when you opened the cupboard and roughly 8 packs of ramen fell out, right on your head, and then laughed his ass off when you just said "hallelujah")

-actually very thoughtful and sweet, but also very mischievous, the two of you would play pranks on each other on many occasions (the prank war ended with a cup of very bitter coffee that almost ended your friendship)

-jk got shit-faced drunk at one of the biggest parties of the semester and started singing/yelling to snsd's "i got a boy" and started dancing, which you filmed, obviously, your host (jimin) himself kicked you out, after jk took some pills from a very shady guy and jimin and you started fighting jk while trying to take the pills away from him and jk accidentally knocked over a fancy vase that jimin got from god knows where

- you dragged jungkook to jimins place the next day bc you were equally mad about to whole ordeal and you also knew you sure af don't wanna get on park jimin's bad side

- jimin: .....

you: he's really sorry

jk: 😔 yes....

jm: ........ (antarctica could never)

jk: hyung pls 😔😔🥺🥺🥺🥺

jm: it's ok, i can buy a new vase🥺🥺

jk: ☺️

(jimin also has a revelation about how to trick people into giving into his wishes)

- you guys' way to deal with hangovers would be an unholy amount of ramen and watching movies all day (jk would take at least 3 naps inbetween, he once woke up to princess mononoke, started sobbing and asked "why are humans like this" and fell back asleep) he'd occasionally snuggle up to you while asleep & would be very embarrassed about it when he would wake up, you'd have to reassure him everytime:

jk: ...u sure it doesn't bother you.. ?

you: what can I say, I've grown quite fond of messy hair and snores, I suppose, oh and drool on my shoulder obviously

jk: are you my friend or my enemy

you: I could ask you the same thing sometimes

- you had an important paper to write before Christmas and you asked him to stay away from you for a while bc you know he would manage to distract you somehow, he respected it but didn't like it one bit

-and you were actually busy for a few days, you guys talked a bit after class and just texted occasionally, but he didn't hear from you for most of the time, which did not sit well with him, jimin helped jk out on this one and texted you

-jimin: are you done with your paper yet?

you: pretty far from it tbh

jimin: lmao rip

you: what do you want jimin, im busy😣

jimin: spend some time with the kid, I honestly cannot take this anymore, hes gonna go full emo mode soon, do something

you: lmao tell him he can come over to mine, I was just about to order some food, ill wait for him then

- you proceeded with your paper and jungkook was at yours 40 mins later, with Chinese takeout and laughed at your dishelved figure when you opened the door, then hugged you, "jungkook are you my friend or my enemy?" - "I bring free food to your place, what do you think ?" - "touché"

[hellhoundsprey]

professor castiel likes his freshman student sam uncomfortably amount

By the time I realized how dark I could have gone with this I was already headed to fluff-town, so have some wholesome idiots ❤.

warnings: age difference, teacher student relationship, drunk sex

includes: college!au, professor!castiel, student!sam, mutual pining, error 404: no stereotypical top/bottom dynamics found, blow jobs, deep throating, face fucking, hair pulling, cas is a domestic soft old man, stanford era

 ~

  “Wait, so—not ever?”

“Not ever.”

“That—wow.” Sam frowns adorably. Measures Cas with his eyes, and Cas hopes he’ll accredit the blush with the unholy small amount of vanilla coke in this cup of vodka.

“Is, is that—so weird? Am I weird?” he blabbers, the fool, and startles together with Sam as someone tackles the beer pong table behind them with the exact outcome you’d expect.

“It’s—I dunno, uncommon?” tries Sam, always so polite, even when obviously intoxicated. Could converse with pretty much everyone except his boring old professor; the pretty blonde making bedroom eyes at him since Cas can remember Sam sitting down with him, for example.

Cas shrugs, pointedly ‘cool’. “It’s just not my cup of tea.”

Sam considers, “Huh,” and takes another deep drink from his red cup. (Sam’s a freshman but Cas wouldn’t still get invited to his students’ house parties if he had any sort of problem with underage drinking.)

“It’s just,” Sam tries again, so puzzled that he cannot let the thought go, and Cas dream-sighs on the inside, chin in his hand and elbow on his knee, now. “Like—how can you not have watched a single one of them? Like, zero? Niente?”

“Pop culture just doesn’t sit well with me,” and Sam smiles—surrendering and pitying but it’s a smile, and Cas will take that without complaint.

“But it’s…Marvel, sir. That’s like—Disney.”

Cas takes another sip from his drink.

Sam’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“I—have watched Disney movies,” assures Castiel, hopeless idiot and academic, three doctorates. “The one with the—the dogs? I watched that one.”

Sam gives him the look that spells out how he doesn’t want to accuse Cas of lying but that Cas is making it pretty hard on him.

Sam lives on campus. Was supposed to be the designated driver tonight but his friends vanished early on, and he told Cas how difficult things are at the moment with his family and his scholarships and the new environment and so on and so on. Cas has heard it many times before. It’s a shame he can’t do much more than listen and give smart-assed advice from his privilege-built ivy tower.

Except for, y’know, “You can crash at my place. It’s safer than hitching an Iber at this hour.”

“Uber,” corrects Sam, and, “is, uh—I mean, are you sure? Is that okay?”

“Why, yes.” Cas frowns, confused. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Oh, vodka. The devil’s juice.

It takes another five minutes of persuasion until Sam finally gives in.

As said: the devil’s juice.

Cas doesn’t have much family left to turn up their noses at his ‘undignified housing situation’. It’s a house and the roof barely leaks, so it clearly does its job (and he’ll get the roof fixed this fall, promise). It has a bathtub and an adorable built-in kitchen from the sixties. Castiel fell in love with it the second he found the listing.

He informs, “Here we are,” uselessly because it’s obvious, they’re taking their shoes off and everything. “Just put it with the others,” he helps upon Sam’s hesitant posture with his sneakers in his too-big hands.

God, they’re big hands, aren’t they?

Anyhow. “Are you hungry? I could go for a snack.”

Castiel is already at the fridge, grabbing whatever is nearest, as Sam catches up. “That’s—I’m okay, you really don’t have to…”

“Oh, be my guest. They pay me well, I can get more groceries if I want. Another fridge, if I want.” He closes the fridge door with a swivel of his hips and unloads the content in his arms over the kitchen counter. “Take a seat, why don’t you. There’s wine, too, if you want.”

Sam assures, “I’m good,” and plants himself at Castiel’s kitchen table.

Cas turns towards him, knife in hand. “Crust on or crust off?”

“Off,” mumbles the kid, and Cas can’t help but smile along with him.

The sandwiches are successfully put together and diminished within minutes. Sam definitely eats like someone who hasn’t had a decent meal in a while, and Cas has to hold back very hard not to urge him into seconds (or thirds).

As he already plucks the too-many pillows from his couch, Cas inquires, “Is this okay with you?” and Sam, of course, nods rapidly.

“Of course, yeah. Thank you, sir.”

“It’s ‘Cas’,” offers Cas, who doesn’t need to be reminded of his age or status this frequently.

If he wasn’t Sam’s professor…God.

Things could be different.

If he had become a librarian, maybe. He can’t think of many other places or occasions to otherwise run into Sam. Always studying, cramming; such a hard-working student. Cas sees himself—burying himself in books and thoughts. Everyone has their ways of escaping real life.

Cas doesn’t leave him without a spare toothbrush before he makes his way upstairs. Takes care of his bedtime hygiene (or, the shortened, drunken version of that) and falls into bed. Worms out of his pants, somehow, but that’s as far as things will go, and that’s okay. Not that he has a say in that.

Castiel falls asleep as soon as he closes his eyes.

~

“Mr. Novak.”

“Hm.”

“… Mr. Novak?”

Cas smacks his lips, turns his head to face the wall.

“… Cas?” and again, louder, “Cas?”

“Yes? I? Oh, lord.” Cas groans, rubs at his face. “What time is it?”

“Don’t know,” murmurs Sam, and Cas realizes it’s still night. “I’m sorry for waking you…”

Cas blabbers, “Is everything okay?” and, yeah, definitely still fucking drunk. Jesus.

Sam begins with, “I,” but can’t seem to find the rest of the sentence.

Cas’ eyes adjust to the spinning room, to the shadow-y figure of Sam Winchester sitting hunched over on the floor, right next to Cas’ bed. He looks upset, to say the least.

“Did something happen?”

“Just, a—a nightmare.” Pale, Sam tries a thin-lipped smile.

“Oh. Well—”

“I tipped the—the lamp? By the couch? It broke.”

Castiel supplies, “Ah,” and tries to remember what fucking lamp Sam means. Did he put a lamp there? He might have put a lamp there.

“I couldn’t find a dustpan or nothin’. There’s shards all over the carpet and—”

“Oh my, did you hurt yourself?”

“Just a—no,” corrects Sam, and not-so-subtly as his own intoxicated brain might be telling him he’s doing it pulls the too-long sleeve of his hoodie further over his hand.

It’s not a thought, it just happens. “Let me see,” and a reach, a grab—Sam’s hand, rough skin, the warmth of it.

Castiel holds on harder just because he does not (cannot) admit his foolish embarrassment.

Studies the (truly minor) cuts with a frown and decides, overly fatalistic: “Bathroom. Iodine. Bandaids.”

“It’s really nothing, sir…”

“Sam, do I have to drag you? Because I will.”

Sam’s mouth closes, presses thin in defeat.

The kid trots after Cas, who has yet to let go of that hand, and doesn’t take note of said fact until they’re already in the bathroom and he raises that treasure up to his eyes for medical purposes.

Huge hands indeed.

Beautiful, beautiful hands.

Cas clears his throat. It doesn’t help.

Sam stands awkward. Pulled his jeans back on or never took them off? Barefoot. Cas is still in socks.

And boxers.

Cas clears his throat again.

“You do this a lot?”

Cas contributes, “Huh?” and his eyes flicker from where he’s applying iodine up to those magnificent, now-hooded eyes—tired and swimming and god he’s probably so soft. Clearly huggable.

“You’re good at that,” adds Sam, the angel, the puppy, with his tiny mouth trying for another smile.

“I—well, I.” Have a messed-up family? Too many clumsy siblings? Helper syndrome? “Yes.”

The tiniest of chuckles. Cas’ stomach does things that probably would feel great if he hadn’t poisoned himself with this much vigor.

Sam tells him, “You’re great,” and Cas feels heat rising to his face.

The intense stench of iodine doesn’t help. “I’m just…a guy. Who owns too many books and knows too many things.”

“Exactly: great.”

Cas scoffs, helpless, eyes on his task at hand because otherwise he’d stare into Sam’s face until they inevitably make out for the next consecutive twenty-four hours. “I’m, I, there are much greater people out there. I’m just a—”

“Professor.”

Cas looks up, which is a mistake. Right into those eyes, which are too kind, too close. Wait, when did they get so close?

Cas manages a coarse, “Correct,” before Sam’s mouth overcomes the last (miniscule) distance.

Castiel hadn’t thought about how long it has been since he’d last been close with someone like this; the last time someone kissed him, the last time he kissed someone.

That someone’s hand cupped his face, or his hand touched someone else’s face. Held on, maybe breathing, maybe not.

Castiel presses their foreheads together; tips of noses squished as well and Sam makes the smallest of noises. Relief, maybe. God, he’s tall.

Cas hears, “I’m sorry,” before he kisses the kid again. And again.

It takes a while for him to be present enough to toss the tweezers and iodine-soaked cotton ball into the sink, and only does that because he requires two hands to get a hold of the kid like he needs to.

He’s somehow got Sam with his back to the door, breathing at least as heavy as him and his hair is too-soft, it shouldn’t be this soft, this easy to bury his fingers in and hold onto.

Sam sucks his own lip behind his teeth once Cas gives them a break and Cas is painfully, suddenly aware of what is happening, and what is going to happen, if Sam doesn’t—

“Tell me to stop.”

Cas is panting, horrified.

He repeats, “Tell me to stop, Samuel,” and Sam uses that opportunity to dive back for Cas’ mouth.

Cas has got a not-his-own hand down his boxers before he can even vocalize his request for the bedroom.

Feels so fucking out of it, surreal with that over-strong hand just holding on, twisting, so capable. He can barely walk.

They get Sam’s jeans off easy enough; the hoodie is more of a challenge and Cas makes a deep-stomach happy noise for the musk, the worn-out band tee hiding underneath—faded and thin and Sam’s very visibly hard nipples that he has to work his thumbs over, if only for the sliver of arousal in Sam’s face.

The fucking hunger. “Can I suck you off?”

“Uhm, whu—?” is all Cas gets to say, because Sam’s already dropped to his knees, already yanked Cas’ boxers down mid-thigh. More accurate, “Jesus Christ,” and hands back into that mop of hair and Sam’s already swallowed him down to the fucking base.

Holy mother of—

“God,” stammers Cas, knees dangerously weak and oh lord that throat, the fucking precision and casual perfection and he doesn’t have a say in how his hands force Sam’s head despite the obvious willingness; allow him to pull him in and grind deep.

It’s a mistake again to open his eyes and look down because Sam’s right there to meet him, eyes tearing up now but he doesn’t even gag; moves despite Cas’ brutal hold on him and tears at his own hair to bob his mouth up and down the length of Cas’ cock—cheeks sucked in, no teeth, not a hint of ’em.

“Oh God, Sam, wait, wait—”

And Sam does. Pulls off, hand wrung tight around the now-wet base of Cas’ dick and sounding a different kind of drunk; breathless, dark. “You okay?”

Cas half-laughs, “Better than okay,” and Sam’s perfect mouth pulls into a tiny, mean smirk.

“Gonna blow?”

“Yes, give me a second.”

“I can fuck your face if you want.”

“I—a-absolutely,” and Cas didn’t know they were so close to the bed that one harsh push of Sam’s arm would send him on it back-first.

The springs inside his mattress creak with the unfamiliar stab of Sam Winchester’s knees.

Above Castiel, the kid rids himself of his wonderful-smelling t-shirt, tosses it god-knows-where, and Cas already feels breathless.

Kinda accepts that this is reality, somehow, when Sam holds him down with the weight of his eyes alone, the practiced tug on his underwear that gets his dick out; strokes it once, twice.

Cas can hear how wet he is.

“Sorry,” ponders Sam, kneeing his way further up to straddle Cas’ face right, “It’s kinda big.”

Cas would say something along the lines of ‘oh, that’s fine’ or ‘you’re fine’ or ‘please, God, get it in me’, if he wasn’t so busy getting his mouth on that fucking beautiful cock.

Cut and huge and Cas’ jaw won’t open as far as it probably should, but judging by the way Sam groans and makes himself comfortable halfway down Cas’ fucking gullet, he doesn’t seem to mind it much.

Cas’ throat gets pounded all strict nearly immediately, and he can’t do much more than scramble his hands to hold onto Sam’s ass and figure out how to acquire any oxygen. Any, at all.

“Fuck, your throat,” and that shouldn’t sound loving, dreamy; not that rough around the edges, hissed through gritted teeth and there’s balls slapping Cas’ chin and it’s—so—good.

Cas has to spank Sam’s ass pretty hard for him to notice and give him a breather (literally). Lets him cough up and swallow back down the worst, make a slut-sound before Sam laughs, angles back in.

“You like it?”

Cas groans something resembling a, “Uh-huh,” around too many miles of cock, eyes closed and Sam’s nails digging into his scalp, tipping and tilting him like he needs, wants.

“Fucking love it, don’t you?”

Cas would nod. Somehow, he’s sure Sam gets it either way.

Cas’ forgotten dick drools over his happy trail. Still so fucking hard and Sam’s spit has dried all the way now and Cas wouldn’t dream to get a hand on himself if he can keep them on Sam’s tight little ass instead.

“Wanna come on your face.”

Cas makes a heart-broken noise.

“Yeah? You want it?”

Cas gets a chance to rasp his, “Yes,” and misses the fucking violence of that cock immediately, waits patiently and gulping for air for Sam to finish himself off.

Just a few strokes and there it goes; they both groan.

Cas feels more discomfort over how much he doesn’t care that it gets into his lashes, his nose, than the fact itself.

“Fuck, your eyes. Sorry.”

“First drawer,” and Cas is barely done saying that by the time there’s already a tissue wiping over his face.

Sam kisses him. Lets Cas lick the taste of his own cock over his tongue and growl-laughs.

“Where do you want it?”

“Want what?” chuckles Cas, halfway into cuddle mode with Sam’s comfortable lightweight on top of him, the gentle attention to his hair.

Sam fixes him with his drunk-dark gaze. Edges his thumbnail along Cas’ cheek, the corner of his mouth.

“My mouth?” and, Jesus Christ, “My ass?”

“Jesus—Christ, I—”

Sam inquires, “Condoms?” before Cas can shut him up with his mouth on Sam’s.

Can rake his fingers through the now-mess of all that hair, dwell in the light of all of this kid’s post-orgasmic bliss.

Sam laughs, “What?”

“You’re beautiful. Do you know that?”

Sam laughs more.

“You’d really let me…?”

“Hell yeah. But no pressure.”

“I really liked what you did before.”

“Mouth, then?” and Cas smiles, nods, and Sam licks another wet kiss into his mouth before he crawls down the sweaty, crumpled mess that is Castiel still in today’s white dress-shirt.

“You do that a lot?” asks Cas, softly petting through that hair while Sam takes good care of him—mouths along the length, now, and it’s even better/worse than the spectacular deep-throating from earlier. Just tender and teasing.

It’s not gonna take a whole lot to get Cas there anyway, at this point.

“What, suck cock? I dunno.” A broad lap of tongue, a casual puckered suck on the frenulum. “Not lately, no.”

“You are magnificent. At it and in general,” and that earns him another humbled noise.

The pillow talk dies off in favor of Sam wrapping his lips around the crown of Cas’ cock. Of him swallowing the entire length, again, working him with muscles Cas is very sure couldn’t have been placed without this exact use in mind.

Cas’ hands hold on, don’t want or need to direct anymore. His hips counter-work him inside that wet-tight clutch and Sam doesn’t pull off once Cas warns him.

Just takes him and Cas has no other choice than emptying down that darling throat, groans and hitches his hips and eventually has to push at that forehead to dislodge the kid.

Explains, “Sensitive,” groggy and slurred and Sam just crawls back up and smothers him in kisses. Blankets him and Cas gets to put his arms around him, finally—the muscled, skinny width of that back, sweat-slick and rising-falling with his slowly calming breath.

Cas sighs, beyond contented.

He wakes to an elbow in his face, the hiss of his own pain.

Curses, “Jesus,” and Sam blinks awake to that, scrambles like he’s terrified until he apparently remembers where he is, who Cas is.

Rushes, “Shit,” and, “Sorry, you okay?” and yeah it hurts but the idea of a black eye doesn’t exactly faze Cas.

He’s had worse. “’M fine,” he promises, but lets Sam get up on one elbow, examine him for damage.

The focused, guilty frown. The precision of his fingers, searching, feathering over Cas’s skin.

Cas feels himself breaking into a smile. Sam scoffs, “What?” and allows to be nudged down for a kiss.

Gonna be day outside, soon. Birds begin to chirp. The dog collar of Mrs. Smith’ Pomeranian jingling from down the street.

Sam lies back down so they can cuddle up right. Lets Cas pet through his hair, try (and fail) to tuck it behind one of those darling, secret ears.

Inquires, with Cas’ pinkie learning the shapes of the beauty marks on the right corner of his chin, “You do this a lot?”

“Elaborate,” hums Cas, harboring desires to not leave this bed until either his kidneys fail or he has to go to work again on Monday. And how he might convince Sam to bear him company.

“Fuck your students?” and Cas laughs.

“’Not lately, no’,” he teases, but ultimately assures how, “No, Samuel. I don’t.”

“It’s pretty illegal,” muses Sam. “We’d get into so much trouble.”

Cas raises an eyebrow, all conspiracy. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Sam laughs in a tone of comfort that helps Cas forming the thought of how things are probably gonna be alright.

[officialtrashbin]

Compromise

It’s been way too long since I did anything for ProxiVus, so here’s this. I finished this a month or so ago and forgot to post it ahahaha wHOOpS

or,  Corvus walks in on Proxima in a compromising situation.

Pre-Marriage, MCU Rating: M (smut. It’s smut.)

* * *

It had been an accident, more or less, and for lack of better terminology.

Proxima Midnight was on top of it always: the heat came on the fifth week, ushered in by warmth in her lower torso and an unholy amount of pheromones to signal her fertility to the males of her species, though there were none on Sanctuary—and the booster had to be administered on the fourth week, no later than at least the second day before so it could work its way through her system. Simple. Routine. The medication was inexpensive and plentiful on the open market for the many races like hers who had these evolutionary dilemmas, and the medical bay was always kept stocked.

But she had forgotten to take the spares before Thanos sent them to Perci-8, a two-week’s fly roundtrip from the nearest jump point, and when the heat came back, it came back swinging.

* * *

Corvus Glaive hadn’t meant to walk in on her. Not like that, at least.

In the last three years since he and Cull were recruited, Proxima Midnight had always been a fairly predictable woman. He could never guess what she would say to him because it often insightfully opposed her typical stance on others, but her opinions on those deemed lesser than them (safe to say, most of the galaxy) was a cycle of cynicism and belittlement. She kept focused, remained vigilant, spit venom, and hit like a freighter in combat. Then, they were a week out from their return trip to the jump point to deliver the news of Perci-8’s protection under Kree Law, when something went Wrong.

Proxima had been acting erratically the entire second half of their mission. She was frantic, teeth-grinding, hand-wringing, shoulders wound up like a cocked pistol, tense. Corvus heard her roaming the corridors of their ship when she should have been asleep. Then, he realized quickly, the scent of her was filling everything. She smelled faintly at first, so subtle he almost couldn’t tell it was her and not some dehumidifier short-circuited by sloppy engineering—and within days, she was akin to wet grass after the rain.

Corvus didn’t bother asking if the Ebony Maw could sense it. If the Maw wasn’t complaining, he wasn’t aware. Cull Obsidian didn’t seem to notice either, but he had taken after their mother, and their species were developed in size to overpower, not to outsmart, and thus couldn’t track scent.

Corvus smelled her, but it was not a scent he could place.

Concerned with her erratic behavior, he waited until the Maw and Cull were asleep before he found himself wandering silently to Proxima’s quarters. Whatever was happening, he didn’t deem it fitting to concern the other children.

He put his hand to the door and left it there, hovering just over the sensor. “Midnight,” he said, knowing his voice would be muffled but at least she would hear him, “I’m coming in. You haven’t been yourself lately and I wanted to ensure you aren’t hurt.”

She made a sound. It was neither approval nor disapproval.

He touched the sensor and the door slid open.

The sentiment was nicer than him entering her room without her permission, but he needed to know she wasn’t—

Oh.

Oh.

Proxima was on her seated on her bed, back curved against the cold wall, completely nude. Her uniform and armor had been removed in a near manic rush, left scattered like leaves across the floor; she was flushed, panting, working two fingers furiously into herself, but she froze, statue-still, when Corvus’ visage appeared in the doorframe.

The smallness of the room was made apparent to him. He was merely three strides away, taking in a long view of her. His eyes darted to her legs. Her hands. To what her hands were doing.

She slammed her legs closed. Heat rushed to his face.

“Leave!” she snapped at him, trying her best to cover her womanhood with her other hand.

“Ah, Proxima—” Then, dumbly he said, “Are you injured?”

“What? No, I’m—I’m in heat, can you just—please, go, I can’t—”

“Is it bad?”

Silence befell them.

Proxima remembered to look away and nodded. “We left without my boosters.”

“Oh,” he said quietly. It was quite a long way from the jump point.

Her cheeks reddened, and she sighed. “I was doing—fine, or so I thought, but—” She set her head back against the wall and told him quietly, “Please don’t look at me. I am very ashamed you saw me like this.”

After another moment of quiet between them, Corvus set his glaive against the wall and closed the distance between them. “There is nothing to be ashamed of, dear Midnight. You have your needs. Allow me to take care of you, if it helps.”

“I cannot allow—I can do it myself, it—it is difficult, sometimes, to get there because I need—”

To mate. Those words hung thick in the air.

“There is nothing to be ashamed of,” he reiterated. “I do not want you to suffer. Let me help.”

Finally, she nodded.

“Do not expect the favor returned,” she said to him.

“I expect nothing from you.”

Slowly, she relaxed, and her legs fell open. She was dripping, the scent of her pheromones exploding about the room, making his head spin. He felt inadequate now, realizing that her heat should have been apparent to him, but it had been so, very long since his last hunt and it was such a rare honor to pleasure a woman as breathtaking as Proxima Midnight that his self-loathing slipped away immediately.

Corvus kneeled between her legs. His hands were on her waist, elbows keeping her knees spread for him, and curiously, he looked at her perked nipples and flushed chest.

“Do you want me to—”

“No,” she tried, “I just need you to—Corvus, Corvus—”

“Ssh,” he ushered, bringing his hand up to her cheek. She nuzzled his palm. “I’ve got you. Let me make it better.”

She nodded quickly, choking on a half-sob as he guided her hand out from her warmth and set it across her stomach. A thread of fluid went with her. It made him throb, curious, and his thumb pressed gently to her clit, rolled it over, tested her resolve. She moaned, overstimulated.

“Corvus,” she breathed out. That was better.

He hooked her leg over his shoulder, getting as comfortable as he could on his knees against the cold, solid floor. His vambraces came off quickly, then his gloves, and he dropped it all to the floor with a sharp clatter that reverberated through the room.

Slowly, he pressed two fingers to the throbbing hole of her and slid easily inside. She clenched desperately around him. Her head rolled back against the wall, torso rippling as the pleasure ran all through her. It felt like she was on fire.

He pumped his fingers in and out and deeper in, burying himself to the knuckle, feeling her velvet warmth collapse around him, ring for ring; he pressed up to where he felt her pulse. “You’re okay,” he said to her, kissing the soft inside of her thigh. “Don’t be ashamed.”

She curled her fingers around the edge of the bed and exhaled a throaty cry when he ran his fingertips in circles over her sweet spot. “Oh, oh!”

“You can enjoy this,” he said.

“Corvus!”

He wasn’t breathing right because she wasn’t breathing right. The desperation she told him of in her sounds, the scent of her arousal and heat in his every inhale. Oh, oh gods, it was too much, he was so painfully hard he wondered if he would come just from the inner friction of his suit.

“Stars above, you’re beautiful,” he growled out, moving his fingers faster, building into a steady thrust. “Moan for me, Proxima Midnight. Tell me how good you feel.”

She did, unashamed, rolling her hips down on his hand as he met her thrust for thrust, gathering her wetness on his fingers.

He remembered this was supposed to be about her and gave an apology kiss against her thigh for getting carried away; he instead situated his mouth over her clit. His tongue was rough, but it felt like heaven against her sensitive bud as he ran the flat of it in a circle. She was crying out, rolling against his face, desperately seeking her climax.

And oh, oh how he was going to give it to her. He thrust his fingers and sucked and licked and rolled her clit, taking her in, his own erection painfully pulsing between his thighs, giving it all to her so, so wonderfully.

“I want to come,” she begged. “Corvus, Corvus—I want to come—”

He put his mouth fully over her clit and sucked, perhaps a little hard but it did the job and she came with a scream. She locked up and pulled him in and her thighs clamped around him, threatening to suffocate him but gods he enjoyed experiencing every moment of it.

She tumbled through her orgasm. Her walls pulsed around his fingers, her hips jerked up off the bed and slammed down again; he thrust his hand into her until she stopped moving, and only then did he dare lift his mouth away to admire his handiwork. She was twitching terribly, quivering in her thighs.

He slowly removed his fingers and she moaned deep in her chest at the loss of fullness between her legs.

Maybe we can do it again, he thought, repressing the urge to tell her that much.

“Corvus,” she started to say, flushed from her face to her chest, quaking with aftershocks. Her eyes were glazed over. For a while words failed her, and all she did was breathe deep and tremble.

Corvus leaned in and nipped playfully at her stomach, startling a laugh out of her. The energy returned to her eyes. “There you are,” he said, and much to his surprise, she took his face in her hands and kissed him fully, running her tongue against his to taste herself in his mouth. When they parted, he was the one at a loss for words.

Proxima huffed, spent, and told him, “It’s a temporary fix, but it will do. Thank you.”

Corvus decided the floor was uncomfortable and picked himself up, perching on the edge of the bed. Proxima scooted over to give him space. He didn’t miss the way she put her hand over his. “You can always ask for help, Midnight. Besides, I quite enjoyed it myself.”

She gave him a weary smile. “Yes, well—as nice as it was, I cannot afford to be like this.”

“I know. Will you make it to the jump?”

“No, but I have gotten through it before.”

Corvus told her, “You can always ask for help. It is nothing to be ashamed of.”

She wasn’t looking at him, even though he was looking at her. “You say it like it’s simple,” she uttered, far enough way to have been a trick of his mind. “We both know how simple matters do not stay simple for long.”

“Proxima—”

“I will not ask more of you.”

He reached up and tucked a stubborn strand of azure hair back over her horn. “If you should change your mind, my offer stands.”

“Thank you.”

She meant it.

Corvus sat with Proxima until she fell soundly asleep, then took what was his and left.

[zodiacal-dust-and-curls]

Under Pressure

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: one swear, kissing, suggestion of adult activities, a decent dose of anxiety related to school (sorry)

A/N 1: This was a request from @meghans-corner I hope it’s what you were looking for! (Thank you for the inspiration!!!) Not beta’d or overly proof-read, so all mistakes are my own. 

Ben came home to find all the lights off. Which was strange, because usually your little flat was full of light and sound and just life in general.

He knew that you'd had a rough week in class. It was midterm week, which meant that all hell had broken loose in your lives.

All of his advances for the last several days had been turned down because, “I need to study, babe. What will I do with myself if I don't finish my degree?”

Flashback

Ben watched you study from the doorway of your study (AKA your second bedroom). He’d worn your favorite sweatpants and his softest t shirt  in hopes of pulling you away from your books for just an hour or so. Anything to get you to take a break, he was worried you’d overwork yourself at the pace you’d been keeping.

“I guess you'll just have to travel with me and be a trophy girlfriend.” He smiled at you. He knew he was being ridiculous. You could never give up your dreams, and he could never seriously ask you to. What would he do if he ever realized that your eyes had lost the spark they once held when talking about all your plans?

“Ben, I'm serious. I want purpose in my life outside of supporting you.” You knew he was joking. But these midterms were just crushing your soul, you’d been studying for two weeks for tests that were only 20% of your final grade.

“Then you shall have it, love.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. “I'll leave you be and see you in a few hours for dinner.”

End Flashback

But the tone that night had been light, and did not match up whatsoever to what he came home to tonight.

“Y/N? My love, are you home?” His deep voice called out into the darkness as he felt around for the light switch.

You sighed and thought about not replying to him, but you knew he'd find you. He always did. “Yeah. I'm in here.” came a tenuous voice from the living room, your voice. It let Ben know that everything was not okay, but at least that you would talk to him.

Ben never did get more than one light turned on, but he found his way to where you'd hidden yourself on the couch. The sight of you curled in on yourself in the dim light of your living room was more than his poor heart could take.

Ben kneeled down on the floor next to your couch. “What’s wrong, love?” His brows had furrowed and his mouth pressed into a straight line. His blonde curls tickled your face due to how close he was.

“We got the scores back on our exams today.” Your voice shook. This was going to be so difficult to say. You’d spent so much time on your calculus class, and it was all for nothing. “I didn’t pass  my Cal I midterm. And now I’m in danger of having to repeat the course and possibly delaying my graduation.” The confession came out of you slowly and shakily. It was always hard to admit your shortcomings to Ben. You always felt like you had to be the best you could be for him.

His eyes softened at that and he moved to wrap his arms around you. “Oh, love. I’m so sorry. So, so sorry. I know how hard you worked in that class.”

Slowly, Ben pulled you from your spot on the couch and completely into his arms. You buried your face  into his shoulder and continued to let the tears trickle into his hoodie. He knew that the best thing to do was hold you and let whatever was going to happen, happen.

When you seemed to have calmed, Ben decided to go for his tried and true method of cheering you up. “How about we watch one of your favorite terrible shows and order in? Does that sound okay?”

You couldn’t see his face, but you knew he was still wearing his ‘worried Ben’ expression. Soft eyes, pouted mouth, creased forehead, the whole look.  You weren’t ready to respond verbally, so you just nodded.

Ben must have ordered something on an app, because he didn’t leave the couch until you disentangled yourself from his embrace.

“You have perfect timing. Food’s here.” He smiled at you. His eyes were still sad for you because he hated to see you heartbroken. He knew how hard you could be on yourself when it came to school, and he just couldn’t let you dive down that hole at the moment.

“Okay, scooch over. We aren’t leaving this couch until I know you feel better.” Ben had come back from the door with two bags that seemed to be bursting with food. “I got you your favorite from that little place on the corner and some of those cookies that have an unholy amount of vanilla in them.”

You finally offered him a smile. Ben was so thoughtful when it came to you. He always seemed to know what you were craving before you did and could read your mind without you having to even look in his direction some days. Not that you minded looking his direction, he was one of the most handsome men you’d ever seen.

“There you are, love. I was starting to seriously worry.” He finally felt like he could give you a real smile as he pulled you back to his side. He loved having you cuddled into him. It gave him a small moment of peace in the hustle of his life. “Now, how about some of your favorite trash TV to go along with our junk food, hmm?”

“Yeah. That sounds good.” You were still wearing a tentative smile, but it was a smile nonetheless.

Several episodes of ‘Say Yes to the Dress’ later, you were in a much better mood. Ben had asked a little more about the test and how it factored in to your final grade and had managed to talk you down from earlier. You may not make an A, or even a B, in the class, but there was still room to pass and graduate on time.

The two of you had settled into a comfortable position, Ben leaning into the arm of the couch with his legs stretched out in front of him and you stretched out along him with your head on his chest, when you looked up into his eyes.

“I don’t know how I got so lucky to find a best friend and love like you, but I’m so glad I did.” You whispered, nearly in the hopes that he wouldn’t hear it. But, of course, he did.

“Oh. my love, I’m the lucky one. I’ve found a woman that manages to support me, without giving up an ounce of herself. And she puts up with my nonsense, while studying. There’s nothing more I could ask for.” With that he pressed a kiss to your lips and pulled you into him just that much closer.

You decided that maybe today wasn’t all bad as you fell asleep on Ben’s chest.

A/N 2: I hope you enjoyed this. Sorry if it got too real for anyone in the middle there. But, I’m prone to worst case scenarios the minute anything goes wrong. Have a good night, my dears. 🖤 

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