#JUST EVERYONE GO READ SOLID STATE YEAH? DO YOURSELF A FAVOR

[therosefrontier]

No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

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Fandom: Genshin Impact

Word Count: 1445

Characters: Lynette (POV), Lyney

Placement?: Some time ago in backstory, soon after Lynette receives her Vision

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“Lynette! Lynette, speak to me! How many fingers am I holding up!?”

Lyney really had no need to be so loud, Lynette thought. Whatever injury she may or may not have had nothing to do with her hearing, really. Still, she found that she was being a little slower to respond than she would like.

She slowly maneuvered herself into a more upright position on the safety net, her head ringing with the motion. “Three,” she answered in response to Lyney’s question. She then took his hand and allowed him to help her off of the net.

“I am fine,” she continued once on solid ground, since she knew that her brother would soon ask again. She looked up at the contraption hanging by ropes high above the stage, the “locked” box that she was to free herself from. It was one iteration of the trick among many, as it was Lyney’s style to never do the same show twice, but it was familiar enough, not too great of a challenge. Or, to be more specific, it wasn’t a challenge to get out of the box. Getting to the ground was slightly different.

“Are you sure?” Lyney asked. He looked frightened and anxious, which was uncharacteristic for him these days, but it was understandable. He just watched her fall from a great height, and she was admittedly still feeling the reverberations from the impact, but it was nothing of note compared to “Father’s” training, so she wouldn’t complain.

“I am,” she assured. “The net caught my fall.” She was stating the obvious, but yes. That was its design.

“Well…alright,” Lyney relented, still seeming tense. “Just give yourself a break to recover, alright? And maybe we should rethink this trick, too. We did something similar from the ground already—I think we can add something fresh while still keeping it there. Putting the box in the air requires a lot of acrobats on your part, and I don’t know…”

“But it was my idea,” Lynette pointed out, cutting him off. “It’s not much of a concern, really. I want to try it this way.”

“What? Oh, y-yeah, sure. Of course!” Lyney dropped his awkwardness quickly in favor of an easy smile. “Wouldn’t expect anything less from my dear sister! I suppose it’s only natural that you would get even more ambitious after—uh, I mean, after everything we’ve done already! There is nowhere to go but up from here, Lynette!”

Lynette silently nodded, observing the rapid changes in Lyney’s expression. “Yes. I will take my break now.”

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Seven weeks earlier, Lynette received a Vision. In the time that transpired since that day, she noticed that Lyney had gotten more anxious. It would seem that a big part of it lay in the fact that Lynette no longer went on missions with him. Twice now, the House of the Hearth has sent her out alone, the reason being because she could now do more dangerous activities, since she wielded a Vision. It was something Lynette didn’t think of much before, back when they were children and Lyney would read her the amazing stories he found about people with Visions and all the fantastic exploits they would do. Since that power was so rare, it was also quite lonely. It meant that from here on out, she must do things differently from everyone else, and be put in a separate category. Lynette’s powers were nothing like the stories, though. They were quite modest, really. It would take additional training to hone her abilities further, but also, she had no desire to learn to make dramatic, flashy displays. She would learn what was practical for her line of work, and nothing more. She operated in stealth far more often than she fought armies.

Lynette was not lonely, either. She was fine. She had Lyney, and also, Freminet. She and Lyney had their magic show together. Even if she had to do more dangerous work for the Fatui now, on account of her increased abilities, she still had this. She cared nothing for the crowds or the fame that gratefully overlooked her much of the time, but she was content to go where her family went. She needed nothing more.

Lynette continued to practice her trick. In the theater hall that was to be the site of their next performance, a mere two weeks from now, she made the most of her time. She climbed up into the box, lifted high above the stage, and she discreetly made her escape, climbing onto the structure hidden behind the curtain to get to the stairs that would lead her down. It was rather different, for her. She created the shows alongside Lyney, yes, but he spearheaded most of the ideas. Usually, Lynette’s role in this process was to point out the flaws in Lyney’s bolder schemes and remind him of budget constraints. However, it was Lynette who decided that she wanted to do this trick from the air.

Lyney was the magician. Even when Lynette escaped the box herself by way of the elaborate contraption inside, “he” would be the one who did the miraculous act, as far as the audience was concerned. This deception did not bother Lynette at all. In fact, she preferred it. She didn’t like attention or to be asked questions. Besides, Lyney could just as easily do the trick himself. He had capabilities that went far beyond his silver tongue and knack for redirecting the audiences’ eye. It didn’t matter whether or not he was actual one “doing” anything.

For this reason, however, there seemed little cause for Lynette practicing over and over again, into the depths of the night. She fell to the safety net yet again. It would seem that her feline blood only did so much for her in terms of natural balance and that elusive ability to “always land on your feet.” It might, however, serve as an explanation as to why she felt this sudden desire to be up in high places, although it created more work for herself, which was generally something she preferred to avoid if she could. She rather liked it up here. Perhaps, the desire was a result of the Anemo Vision she now wore at her back. It was an element closely associated with the sky, which supposedly made her “one with the wind.” Some wielders used to “fly,” although that, of course, was more of an illusion created by the power of Anemo lifting or launching oneself up, rather than true, unrestrained flight.

She received the Vision when she jumped off a cliff, so that could have something to do with it. Or maybe, it was sometime afterwards. She didn’t notice when it happened; she was too focused on pulling her unconscious brother out of the water, and of dragging them both to safety through that dark, unfamiliar forest. She sometimes wondered why she got it, as well. She heard that Visions were granted to the ambitious, but she was not ambitious. She had no aspirations at all aside from simply living, so she could not tell what the big deal was for. Still, it was a useful tool. It saved their lives by acting as Lynette’s guide, quite possibly, so she would readily thank whatever deity was responsible for that reason alone. Although, she did suspect sometimes that the mysterious giver of Visions could simply be a machine like the Oratrice. It seemed improbable to her that even the gods could see everyone everywhere all at once, as would arguably be necessary to perform such a feat with constancy.

Lynette continued practicing. She did her brief balancing act in the rafters, keeping a skilled, nimble step in that place where no one could see her. One morning, she received another directive. She needed to investigate an Abyss stronghold, it seemed. And she would do it alone.

Lyney was anxious. Lynette had no faith that any words she could come up with would assuage him, so she said nothing. She just stayed. She stayed by his side, forever his shadow, listening to him talk to many people, listening to him regale to her his plans.

And then Lynette would go on her own to the stage in the empty auditorium, and she would do her practice in simple, methodical manner.

That night, she decided it was time. “You can take the safety nets down,” she told the stage hands, her tone certain. “I won’t be needing them, now. The show is in only a few days, after all.”

She would be fine. Even if she did fall, it really would be nothing of note.

[221bshrlocked]

do you trust me?

Paring: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Words: 3708

Warning: Lots and lots and lots of touching because Din is getting a massage. Blindfold. Handjob. A sort of foot/hand fetish if you like squint...really really squint.

Summary: It's been a while since Mando came for a massage but things get heated when he asks you for a favor...

A/N: Ok so there was this one anon message I was writing a fic for yesterday when I lost the 1.5K words and it was something along the lines of "imagine Din frequenting your massage parlor and you're a masseuse" so I added a little twist to it because Shy!Din who doesn't want to cross that line until he's 1000% sure you're okay with it does something to me so here you go. I hope you enjoy it people and I'm sorry I lost your message anon. I'll reblog with the taglist later. This is not beta'd!!

You can’t help but smile when your boss comes in and tells you that one of the regulars was asking if you were available for him today. You know who she’s referring to but still tell her that he should be serviced soon since he probably doesn’t have that much time. When she tells you that he specifically asked for you, you tell her that you’ll take him up in the next slot.

It was strange to have someone like the Mandalorian come in for a massage. His people weren’t necessarily known for letting their guard down, especially in an establishment like this. But you felt a sense of pride every time he came in. Granted it was every once in a while, but you enjoyed those sessions immensely. You remember how weird and intimidating it was when he first walked into your room. You couldn’t see a single inch of his skin and you wondered why he would come into a massage parlor when he wasn’t allowed to take off his clothes. He’d quickly explained to you that it was only his helmet that he couldn’t take off. It was a little sad though because for those first few times, he only ever took off his beskar armor. You told him that you would unfortunately not be able to use any of the oils on him since he chose to keep his clothes on and he nodded in understanding.

But then something shifted in the dynamic between the two of you and over the span of a few cycles, Mando, as you liked to call him, began to strip off his layers. You never questioned him about his decisions, ensuring to follow his lead and tell him that he was very much in control of what happened in the room. But as patient as you were, you couldn’t help but feel guilty because maker, why couldn’t he just take off his clothes? It was the most mind-boggling thing you’ve ever experienced. You had adonis on your table come in every day, but just seeing his arms and his waist had your mouth watering. It was pathetic too because no matter how many times you saw him, your heart still skipped a beat when you touched him.

As you finish with your current client and prepare the room, you remind yourself to try and be on your best behavior for his sake. It took the man almost five months to finally feel comfortable enough with you and take off his shirt so you couldn’t go and destroy all of that work. When you’ve set everything up and replaced the candles, you walk out and head towards the front desk. You don’t have to glance around for too long. It’s hilarious how much he stands out next to everyone. As soon as you look at him, Mando’s posture changes and he sits up, his hands clasping his knees as he waits for you to nod at him. You ignore his rigid attitude and whisper something to your boss, smiling back when she turns to Mando and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Come on, I don’t have all day.” You call after him and watch as he stands up and struts towards you. No matter how many times you saw him walk, it’s always a little intimidating when you’re at the receiving end of such a powerful hunter.

“You could have been on your merry way Mando.” You say as you lead him through the hallways. “That’s not how I see it mesh’la.” You stop and turn around to look at him, narrowing your eyes when he almost bumps into you and mirrors your stance. “Are you ever going to tell me what that means?” You think he’s looking past you when he responds and rings his fingers nervously. “You don’t have all day.” The curt comment lets you know he isn’t going to answer your question and you shake your head before you continue to walk towards your room. Before you unlock it, he clears his throat and grabs your wrist to stop you from going any further.

“I- I can come back later, if you’re already booked for today.” You’re a little surprised by his comment but you shrug your shoulders and push the door open for him. “I cleared my schedule just for you so you better not change your mind now.” He turns away from you and stares at the floor before he steps into the room and you let out a breath when he begins to take off his weapons and place them on the corner table.

As you shut the door and move towards the table with the oils and towels, you’re met with a silence like never before. Thinking that he was probably not in the mood to chat, you shut your eyes and count back from ten to calm your nerves. You could do this.

But then you turn around a couple of minute later and you almost drop the bottles of oils when you see Mando’s state of dress. He’s standing in front of the table, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, staring at you through his visor.

You can’t do this.

“Is- is this okay?” Mando asks and you clear your throat quickly before moving the oils to the massage table. “Y-yeah of course. As long as you’re comfortable. Like I said, I don’t want you to think that you have to do anything.”

“I know…I- I trust you.”

Those three words do little to calm your nerves and you look up at him as soon as the admission registers in your brain. You aren’t sure if it was normal to react this strongly to such a simple declaration but you turn away from him to give him some privacy as he hopped onto the table.

“Can I ask you something mesh’la?”

“Hmm.”

“Do- do you trust me?” His question catches you off guard yet again and you tilt your head at the odd timing of it before you nod. “Of course Mando!”

“Then can you do me a favor?” You hope he’s about to ask you what you’ve been silently craving for months but then he brings out a simple cloth and you’re confused.

“I would like to feel…relaxed, and this helmet makes it difficult to- to…I can’t take it off in front of anyone. I understand if this is too much but if you don’t mind, could you maybe-” You know what he’s asking as soon as he brings up the helmet and without missing a beat, you walk around and take it out of his hand.

“Sure, but I won’t be able to see if I’m doing something that you don’t like. I tend to read body language but this will be more difficult, so you’ll need to speak up. Deal?” You wait until he gives you his confirmation before you return to table. As soon as you see him move to lay down, you turn around and wait until he’s comfortable before you raise the blindfold to your eyes. Mando watches as you twist it tightly around your eyes before you tie it, waving his hands several times in front of you to make sure that you don’t see him.

“Ok, I can’t see anything so…um, hand me the urn with the light-yellow oil please?” You call to him and force yourself to stay quiet when he takes your hand in his and places the urn between your palms. You thank him and wait until he tells you that you can begin. As you test the temperature of the oil, you hear a soft hissing sound coming from the top of the table and you stop your movement when you hear Mando setting down the helmet on the floor.

“Just umm, let me know when I can begin yeah?”

“Go ahead mesh’la, I’m ready for you.”

It never occurred to you that he might sound different without the vocoder and you grip the urn tightly as his voice rings through your ears. It was much deeper and hoarse than you thought it would be and for a moment, you wish you could hear it as he whispers the filthiest desires across your skin. But you bite your cheek and keep yourself under control as you step forward.

“Here, let me help you.” Without warning, Mando grabs your hand and rests it on his chest, and you think that this is probably the moment where you die of sheer sexual frustration.

“Thank you,” you whisper to Mando as you bring the urn above your head and begin to slowly pour the oil across of his chest and stomach. You vaguely feel his arms moving but you say nothing and put the urn aside as you begin to spread the oil across his skin. No matter how many times you massage him, you always felt giddy touching him. He wasn’t exactly ripped per se but he was muscular enough for his job, with some softer muscles here and there.

As you dug your fingers into his skin, you hoped he wasn’t staring at you because you were sure your skin was flushing deeply the more you felt him twitch and flex beneath you. You could tell the past month or so has taken a toll on him because the more you kneaded and stretched his muscles, the louder his gasps and groans grew.

But then you passed over his nipples and you swore he was murmuring curses beneath his breath. Opting to just move on and not apologize, you dig your knuckles into his pectoral muscles and hold back from commenting on how solid they felt. As you move to his shoulder, you could tell that he really was in need of relaxing because there were too many knots in just a small area. Mando is keeping silent the entire time and you thank the maker that he was a usually a quiet guy because there was no way could survive hearing his voice for a long period of time.

Taking a deep breath, you pour some more oil on your hands before you take hold of his arm and begin to stretch it. Mando says nothing as you bend it and move your fingers across his biceps and if he flexes for you, it’s a completely unintentional reflex. When you reach his hand and push your fingers into his palm, Mando swears again, turning his full attention to you as you try to loosen his ligaments. You know you don’t need to spend that much time on his hands but you’ve always loved how much bigger and thicker they felt compared to yours. It also felt a little intimate feeling someone’s hand relaxing between yours, but you kept that bit of information to yourself, not wanting Mando to feel nervous around you.

You slowly walk around the table and apply the same attention to his chest and left arm, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way you were clenching your thighs together as you felt his fingers curl around your wrist as you massaged his forearm.

“Moving onto the legs so if there’s anything you’re not comfortable by, let me know.”

“Yeah,” you almost jump when you hear Mando’s response because…was his voice this deep earlier?

Deciding to just go for it, you twist the towel far enough until it reaches his thighs and begin to pour oil on his thick muscles. You swear he didn’t look this tall but you realize that perhaps the armor didn’t make him look big, just more intimidating. As you squeeze the flesh of his inner thighs, you hear his breathing become erratic and you stop for a second to give him a chance to say something. When he doesn’t, you return to the task at hand and try your hardest to not think of the appendage that was not too far from where you were touching him.

Fuck, this should not be turning you on this much.

You’re not sure what it is about this situation that’s making you this needy and you think that’s it’s perhaps the blindfold but you brush the thought aside immediately, knowing that your brain would not be shy from thinking of more inappropriate scenarios involving blindfolds and liquids should it wanted to.

Pretending you weren’t just daydreaming about the Mandalorian bending you over this table and fucking you into the next parsec, you move to the other side and attend to his other upper thighs. Maker, this man really as built like a hunter. Well, he was an actual hunter so-

“Where did you go?” Mando’s voice breaks you out of your haze and you take your hands off of him when you realize he may have actually been staring at you.

“S-sorry I was just- well, it’s nothing important. Never mind.” You smile embarrassingly at him before you move to his feet and spread them apart. Mando’s sudden intake of breath sends a panic down your back and you take your hands immediately off of him.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No! N-no, you’re…carry on.” He’s quite breathless as he speaks to you and furrow your eyebrows before you return to knead at his feet. And just like earlier, your thoughts take a turn for the worst when you notice just how large his feet were. They were much bigger than your own little hands and you think that maybe, just maybe, they might be proportional to his-

“That tickles,” Mando’s chuckle would have brought you to your knees had you been focusing on what he’s saying and you apologize before moving onto his other foot and finishing it quickly.

“Alright, turn for me Mando.” You tap his legs and wait for him to move, all the while trying to not think of him turning you around and spreading your legs to-

“Ready.” You silently curse him for always cutting off your train of thoughts but you bite your tongue and move to the other side of the table. Standing right in front of his head, you pour more oil on his back and attempt to ignore his whimpering which you were sure he wasn’t aware of. Once there is no more oil, you mirror your actions from earlier and dig you knuckles into his shoulder blades, finding the tense muscles and tendons much more difficult to relax than his front.

“Maker…you’ve been working hard haven’t you Mando?” You only get a small groan in return and you chuckle when you massage a particular spot that has him reaching out and grabbing on your legs.

“Oh…uhh please,” if it was possible to choke on air, you would have done so as soon as he moaned for you. This was not what you signed up for when you first woke up today, and you hated how much more relaxed he felt in your presence because the lower you moved down his back, the more confident his groans grew and before you knew it, he was whispering your name and speaking in his mother tongue. You weren’t sure if he was saying good or bad things, but from the way he was reacting to you, you had an idea of how he was feeling. And by the time you got to his calves, the man has pretty much melted underneath you.

As you finished up and moved away from the table so he could take his time to get up, you felt a strange haze wash over you. Something about the way he moaned your name along with expletives and maker knows what else had you wishing he could just muster up the courage to step over that line with you.

Slowly turning around, you wait until Mando begins to sit up before you speak up.

“I hope you don’t take too long before you visit again…it’s difficult to get you to loosen up when there’s so much pent-up energy.” You smile and hope he can tell that you’re joking with him, not realizing how much danger you were in just from being near him.

“It won’t help.”

You’re shocked by his response because he’s never actually insulted you before and you’re about to bite his head off when he grabs your wrist and pulls you towards him.

“M-mando wh-”

“It’s not going to help, because I still have a lot of pent-up energy mesh’la. And you’re the one to blame.”

It’s like a zap of lightening has struck you down because as you try to free yourself from his grasp, you accidently brush something beneath the towel he has around his waist, something that was tenting the fabric and making it much harder to the touch.

“I’ve been trying to convince myself to visit you for so long sweet girl, but I stop myself from pushing in the coordinates when I remember how good it felt to have you worshipping me with your hands, your strong, soft little hands that I dream of touching me elsewhere…where I need you, crave you, fucking burn for you.” His words are laced with promises that you’ve longed to hear from him and you don’t realize that he’s waiting for you to answer until his grip tightens around your waist and he pulls you in closer.

“Mando,” you whisper to him as you lean into his neck and before he can ask you again, you slowly leave a trail of kisses across his jaw and down his jugular, not caring for how rough you’re being as you descend down his chest and leave bitemarks across the beautiful skin of his broad torso. He’s already somehow a moaning mess underneath your touch and the more you lick and kiss him, the more needy his groans become.

“Please, let me.” You plead as you raise your lips until they’re brushing against his and as Mando slowly tilts his head to capture your lips in a kiss, you dip your hand beneath his towel and firmly grasp his cock. Mando is distracted for a moment and he lunges into you when he feels how your warm hand massaging his dick. Although he normally doesn’t prefer any display of emotion, he can’t hold back from moaning your name as you slowly stroke his length. You’re not surprised by his size, but you’re a little shocked by how hot he runs and as you twist your palm around the bulging tip, Mando leans into you and shoves his tongue down your throat, making sure you don’t run away from him as he slips one arm around your back and keeps you as flush to him as possible.

The room is suddenly filled with the sounds of Mando’s heavy breathing and groaning, and you smile to yourself when you remember how desperate he said he was for you. You’re glad you weren’t the only one feeling such an intense neediness and it’s your turn to gasp when you dip your hand and grab his balls. Mando’s hold on you tightens and you’re sure he’s giving you bruises but you can’t find it in yourself to care because this monolith of a hunter was falling apart just from your hand.

You break the kiss and slowly push him down so he could lay on the table again and as he follows your lead, you smile down at him before you grab the oil and pour a little more of it on his dick. He twitches at the warm material but quiets down as soon as you bring two fingers and shove him in his mouth.

“Be quiet for me baby, don’t want the other clients to think they’ll be getting this treatment too.” Mando bites down on your fingers as he nods and you try to hold back from jumping on the table and sinking down on his cock.

Fuck, it felt like it was beautiful and you hoped that you’d get to see it at some point in the near future. But you were satisfied with what you had now and as you worked him closer to his orgasm, you wished you could see his facial expressions as he surrendered to you.

You could feel him buzzing with energy on the table, and you giggled when he stretched out and grabbed your leg to bring you closer to him.

“Please…oh fuck, please I-”

“Cum for me Mando…cum for me, let me taste you on my lips baby please. You’ve been so good to me, letting me take care of you and trusting me to keep your secret. Go ahead darling, and cum for me.” He suddenly sits up on his elbows and you let go of his mouth before grabbing his balls and massaging them until he fell over the edge. As he growled his release, you couldn’t hold back anymore and leaned down, taking as much of him in your mouth as possible as you sucked on him and tasted his seed. There was so much that you swallowed and you marveled at how much he still had as you continued to milk him dry. When he finally finished and fell to his back, you stroked him softly a few times before licking across his navel to clean him up.

As you stood next to him, you felt a little shy at what was to come. But Mando seemed to see you overthinking because he didn’t waste another minute, sitting up quickly and pulling you in his arms. You stood in between his legs and smiled when he leaned down and began to kiss across your eyes.

“You…you’ve been so good to me mesh’la.” He whispers hoarsely as he nips at your shoulder and you giggle when his scruff begins to tickle your skin.

“So have you.” Mando sighs heavily at your confession and you repeat it one more time so he could believe that you were telling the truth.

“I- I think I’ll start coming more often. You know, so the muscles aren’t too knotted like you said.”

“Hmm, is that all you’ll come for Mando?” You smile when he pecks your lips and brushes your hair aside.

“No sweet girl, I’ll be coming for you too. More than you think.”

[palbabor-writes]

yan Shigaraki pt. iii

Also known as: MOMMY KINK 

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ only, dubcon, mentions of rape, bondage, drugging, kidnapping, blow jobs, cunniliginus, vaginal fingering, mind break, manipulation, prostate milking, switching, mommy kink, DARK FIC 

Word Count: 9307 

Notes: back y’all. this one focuses on that mommy kink everyone has been requesting, so, uh, come get your juice. 

this fic is dedicated to & beta edited by @kugutsuu​. i am but a humble acolyte at her shrine, so if you wanna see some grade A mommy kink, or more Tomura porn, plz, go read her stuff. it is marvelous.

Part III: MOMMY KINK

part i || part ii  

The shower is grimy. Thankfully, most of the stains are old patches of soap scum or neglected bits of grout. You’d asked Tomura once, to clean it, but he’d just chuckled and shoved you into the glass box, saying he’d think about it, if you’re good. 

It’s a pity you haven’t made it back onto the “good,” list.

It’s been three weeks and although Tomura has kept you close, hardly letting you slip from his sight, binding you when he has to leave the confines of his room, he’s clearly sulking in his lingering annoyance. An annoyance that’s firmly directed at you. 

His touches are less frequent and there’s been a decided lack of that early, awed, wonderment and soft persistences. He used to stroke his fingers down your skin when you slept beside him, careful to let you know that he’s being cautious, not wanting to frighten, or worry you. Now, when he flops beside you, he turns his back, curling up, on his side of the mattress, shouldering off your tentative pets.  

He’s distant and you can’t adjust to it.

You reach for the plain sliver of bar soap and work it into your shivering arms, building suds and foam under your fingers. The shower door is fogging up, thick with the wet heat from the spraying water, but you can make out Tomura’s outline. He’s perched on a low stool, one that he’s placed specifically in the tiled room, so he can keep an eye on you, so he can make sure you don’t try to slither away from him again. 

It’s frustrating, the warring closeness and aloofness he’s giving you, and you grumpily slough off the bubbles of soap, watching as they swirl down the rusted drain. You were going to come back, you justify, wetting your hair and hoping there’s enough shampoo left to give it a proper soak. You only wanted to get your cat. It’s not your fault he’d forgotten him, when he’d drugged you and placed you under his power. Sure, you could have told him about the feline, but you just…

You wanted to do it yourself. 

Since he’s taken you, you don’t get to do a lot of things by yourself anymore and you needed to prove...no...that’s not right. You’d wanted to taste the fresh air that night and yank yourself out from under Tomura’s omnipresent thumb. It’s exhausting, being held like this. You know, in his own twisted way, that Tomura loves you and there’s some answering part of you that’s starting to care for him, too, but those feelings don’t make you any less caged. Besides, you sigh, combing the shampoo into your hair, how could you not find yourself slipping into a ragged dependency?   

How were you possibly supposed to prevent those budding needs? After all, took care of you and he fed you, both physically and sexually. God, you’d never had anyone fuck you like he did. You’re almost certain that he’d been a virgin when he fucked you, that first night, but damn, he’d more than made up for his inexperience with a genuine desire to see you satisfied. 

It’s an odd rush of emotions. 

You feel equal parts guilt and anger pressing at you. You didn’t mean for this to happen and it’s not fair he’s still taking it out on you. Besides, you’d only wanted to get your cat that night. You didn’t have grand plans of escape, or reporting Tomura’s undoubted villain status to the police. No, you would have come back. The most you would have risked was sneaking one quiet night's sleep in your old bed, but you would have slunk back to him in the morning, ready to see his outstretched arms and those lovely, fervid, eyes that flashed so much adoration when they rested upon you.

Yes, it had all gone to plan, that is, until he caught you. 

He hadn’t spoken much, since that night, and you missed those early conversations the two of you shared. You know you’ve perturbed him, angered him, hurt him, and it’s starting to feel like there's nothing you can do about it. 

However, while you were kept under strict watch, your rescued cat, on the other hand, has grown into a regal prince, free to strut about the hideout, often weaving under Tomura’s red shoes. Never, never, ever, would you have thought that you’d be jealous of a cat, of your cat. But you can’t help but bristle at the affection Tomura showers down on your feline, and your cat, that damned smug little thing, lapped it all up, purring and fat, content with his new supremacy.

You suck your teeth at the thought and quickly dash your head under the reassuring spray of the shower. When you turn, you catch sight of Tomura’s outline again and a sudden idea pops into your head. Before your failed rescue mission, Tomura had often luxuriated under your touches, almost vibrating some nights, drunk off the pleasure of your stroking hands. Although he’s been detached, maybe...maybe you could bridge that gap, with the right incentive, of course. 

“Um, Tomura?” you call, curling your arms about your chest, shivering as you step from the misting of warm water. 

He grunts, but that hazy silhouette doesn’t shift, solid and unyielding, despite your soft voice. You bite your lip and step closer, pressing yourself against the slick glass, not ready to give up. 

“Can you come here, please?” you try again, infusing honey and light into your tone, hoping it might convince him to turn. 

“What is it?” Tomura grumbles, but you notice him shift and you smile at your tiny victory. 

“I need you, just for a second, if you...please, Tomura?” you’re trailing your fingers over the frosted dips and imperfections of the shower door and you can tell he’s starting to waver. It’s hard for him to pull away when you whine out his name like that. It’s likely a control thing, but that gasping want, that echo of need is something he’s done his best to encourage, liking that he can make you slip into a gooey, broken, state. 

He stands and pads toward the steaming shower and you bite back a grin, pleased he’s maneuvering into place. Once he’s close, you crack the door open and poke your dripping head out, searching for his eyes. Tomura pauses when he catches sight of you, vermillion iries dark, narrowed and suspicious. 

“What?” he asks again, his lips curling, lifting that jagged scar and revealing a line of straight, white, teeth. 

“Can...can you do me a favor?” you question, dragging your tongue across your lower lip, tugging at the plush skin, silently rejoicing when you catch his eyes lowering, following the motion. 

“Depends,” he snaps, his gaze flashing back to yours. You give a soft huff, disappointed that he’s not bending, at least, not yet. 

“Will you, um, take a shower with me?”

Tomura snorts, looking over your sopping hair. “Don’t be stupid, you’re practically done.”

“What if I want to clean you off?”

“You calling me gross?”

“No,” you stammer, aghast and unsure if he’s joking. “I just...I want to do this, for you. You’ve been so good to me, I want to do something nice for you, too.”

“Liar,” Tomura taunts, but he does step closer, leaning one arm on the brass frame and peering over your half concealed form. 

“I’m not lying. I’d really like to– ”

“Not that. You’re lying about me being good to you. Don’t give me that look, you know it’s true. Should I list it out for you? To prove it. Let’s see, I’ve kidnapped you, fucked you, against your will, until all you can do is drool, begging me to stop, and I’m pretty sure that’s fucking called rape. What else? Oh, I’ve drugged you, tied you up for hours, almost killed your cat, ah, and I’ve been ignoring you, doing my fucking best to make you feel like the ungrateful little slut that you are. That enough? Or should I give you some more?”

You roll your shoulders, agitated. “Tomura, that’s not...I don’t want to talk about that. I want– ”

“You want to pretend again. To put on an act and go about the motions. Wait until I’ve lowered my guard and then you’ll fucking– hey– stop!” Tomura bristles when your wet fingers curl around his dark shirt, yanking him toward you and dangerously close to the wet tiles. His nose wrinkles and he tries to bat you away, hands roughly knocking against your pruned skin. 

“Tomura, please. I’m not...I just want to be close to you. Don’t push me away, I’m sorry. I’ve told you that before and I’ll tell you again. You know I didn’t mean– ”

“Didn’t mean to sneak out of a window? You fucking accidentally woke up and thought, good time to make sure he’s out on a meeting, better make the most of this? Don’t play dumb, it doesn’t suit you (Y/N),” Tomura growls, finally succeeding in shaking himself free, glaring down at your damp, wrinkled, brow. 

Sighing, you sulk back into the warmth of the shower, pouting your lips and shaking  your head, dropping tiny flecks of water across Tomura’s dark shirt and bare feet. “You’re really not going to forgive me, huh? Even if I tell you that I’m sorry, even if I ask for you to let me hold you? 

That’s fucking mean, Tomura. You’re such a jerk. A fucking ass. You’re making me feel like some kind of bitch. Yeah, I didn’t ask for you to fucking kidnap me, but what do you want me to do? 

It’s not my fault that...that I like you. That I like when you’re nice to me, that I like when you make me feel so...so good, and, well, wanted. You can’t...what am I supposed to do? At this rate, I’ll just hate you. So, if that’s what you’re...what...what you’re want...oh.”

You’d turned your face, while you snapped and berated him, so the feeling of his hard, bare chest, and the sucking pressure of his lips startles you. When your face lifts to his, his long fingers wrap under your chin, forcing you to look at him. His red gaze ensnares you and your breath catches, granting him the opportunity to shut the glass door behind him and press you against the slippery tiles. His free hand shifts to the temperature gauge and he rolls the heat down, hissing at the sting of the shifting water. 

“Fine,” he smirks, slotting himself against your curves, letting you feel his rising cock and the sharp planes of his muscles. “I’m here. What is this, so called, nice thing you want to do for me?” 

You laugh at his dripping sarcasm and arch into his arms, pleased when he gifts you a quiet shiver. “Turn around,” you smile, your eyes roving over his exposed figure hungrily. Tomura sucks his teeth, but he does as you ask and you reach beside him, slipping the block of bar soap into your palm. You scoot close and dampen the sharp protrusions of his shoulder blades, slicking them with the lukewarm water before pressing the soap over him. Once you get a decent lather built up, you let your fingers dip into his corded sinews, massaging out the rough patches until he’s groaning, a pleased hum radiating from his chest. 

“Does that feel ok?” you ask, watching him tremble when you hit a particularly sensitive spot. Tomura responds by shifting back, cracking his back as he bows into your touch. You smile and cup some water over him, sloshing away the bubbles. Once his back is clean and gleaming, you rub yourself against him, kissing his neck. 

“What’s your plan?” Tomura sighs, his voice hushed. He cranes his neck and you catch a glimpse of one bright eye, watching you, waiting for your response. 

“Plan?” you ask, confused by his meaning. 

“Yeah, you trying to butter me up? You think this is gonna change my mind? If you do something nice for me, I’ll have to repay you? Let my guard down?”

You click your tongue and pull him to you, urging him to turn around, so you can see him properly. “Stop it,” you tut, raising the soap again and repeating the soft circles and easy massages, liking that he’s starting to duck his head, a light flush seeping over his chest and nose. “I want to do this for you. Call me stupid, but it makes me happy to see you relaxed. There’s something nice about your face and...and how you look at me. Besides, you haven’t looked at me like that...since...since before that night.” 

Tomura glances away at the reminder, breaking the hard stare he’d fixed you with, but he takes a shallow step toward you, letting the tips of your nipples glide over his slippery pectorals. You gasp at the sensation, enjoying the sweet tightening that races along your areola, puckering the buds into stiff peaks. 

“Well? Don’t leave the job half finished. Keep going,” Tomura rasps, his hands cupping your lifted wrist and moving the soap over his sternum, before passing it along his abdomen. Nodding, you gulp and work your way down until you have to kneel, your knees digging into the water logged floor. Your head lines up with his half hardened cock and you eye the velvety flesh ravenously. You chance a peek up at him, but he’s still refusing to meet your eyes, his head turned, scowling darkly at the wet tiles. 

“Tomura,” you begin, releasing the bar of soap, letting the rushing water snag it, carrying it toward the pull of the drain. “Why don’t you let me take care of this for you?”

Above you, his jaw sets and you can hear him grinding his teeth, trying to shrug off that deepening red blush. You’re not quite sure why he’s so affected by this, but you’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Your fingers slide up his thighs, nails gently scraping and pressing as you near the apex of his hips, watching him rise under temptation of your proximity. Once you’re grazing along his dark curls, he unconsciously thrusts toward you, a tiny droplet of precum budding out of his slit, gleaming in the light of the bathroom. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” you ask, your heart thumping wildly, unsure where this sudden urge, this need, to have him supplicate himself for you, is coming from. You want him to ask, no, you want him to moan for you as he blushes and pants. Oh, yes. That would look so good on him. “I can help,” you continue, careful to keep your eyes down, not wanting to give yourself away. “It looks...it looks like you need me to take care of you. Just ask me, Tomura. Ask me to..to…”

Tomura’s hand on the back of your head makes you lose your train of thought and you sputter into silence, your eyes lifting to his, waiting. He glares down at you, imperious and chilling. His nostrils flare when you breathe across his leaking tip and his hips shift again, thumping his heavy cock head against your parted lips. 

“Suck,” he commands and immediately, you do your utmost to take him all in, your jaw aching at the familiar weight of him. Tomura groans at the suction and his eyes finally slip closed. You hollow your cheeks and curl your tongue, racing the wet appendage over his thick veins, feeling him pulse and swell. He’s salty and so, so deliciously earthy. Your mind clouds over and all thoughts of making him bend to you fly out the window, content in the happy pleasure of making him spill down your waiting throat. 

******

Later, when you’re both dry and stretched out on his tattered mattress, he turns to you, pressing his face into your arms, sighing happily when you stroke a hand down his hair. It’s been a while, since he’s come to you like this, all contented nuzzles and heavy exhales. Even before your misguided escape, he would rather have you cling to him, than he to you. No, this is a different kind of touch. You curl around him and he begins to slacken in your hold, drifting into the welcoming embrace of sleep. 

As the night passes around you, you revisit those musings you’d had in the shower, when he was doing his best to ignore you as you gently needled him, wanting to hear him ask you for your attention. You’d never thought much on domination, how could you? Half of the time, you were bound or gagged, especially in the early days of your capture. Tomura had always been unrelenting in his control and you hadn’t done much to question his iron backed rule, at least, not until tonight. 

But once you noticed that tight lipped expression and that delightful blush he’d given you? Oh, you wanted something very different from him then. Imagine, you think, a mischievous smirk lifting your lips, just imagine him, gasping and whining, just for you. He’d look so nice, so handsome, like that. 

You’ll have to be cautious and you’ll need to go slow, but fuck, you want to see him beg. Tonight was a good step. You’d slipped back into his good graces and you’d shown that he can trust himself, and you, to let him show you a gentler, more vulnerable side of himself. Now, let’s see if you can get something different from this arrangement. Besides, you reason, if you’re stuck here, you might as well have a little bit of fun. 

******

He’s got you pinned down, his powerful thighs digging into your spread hips, slapping his meaty balls against the wet curve of your ass. His fingers are hovering over your clit, but he’s careful not to touch. He isn’t wanting you to cum, not yet. You can’t breathe when he takes you like this and his lips are close to the hollow of your throat, rising and lowering in time with his jagged thrusts. 

“You’re too quiet tonight,” Tomura rumbles, his tongue dipping out to swipe up some droplets of sweat that have slipped down your chin. “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me this is all you can take? I’ve seen you give me more. That’s it, be a good little slut, be my good girl, let me hear you.” 

His thumb slithers to your pulsing bud, slipping under the swollen hood and encouraging that pulpy flesh to throb out, hot and wanting. You gasp and he lifts his head, pressing a rough kiss to the side of your mouth. 

“Almost,” he taunts, positioning his index finger above his thumb, at the top of your clit, trapping it in his hold. The sharp, painfully cloying sensation he sparks makes you arch and his cock slips deeper, the head tapping against that final barrier of your cervix. You hiss at the distant echo of pain and Tomura sighs above you, surging his hips forward and grinding down, scraping his pelvis against yours, watching you tremble around him. 

“You take me so fucking well, (Y/N). Such a pretty little pussy, all wet and open, so flushed and all mine.”

When he tucks back, gliding his length from your weeping cunt, you find your voice and you shiver out a question, hoping, praying, he’ll entertain the idea. “T-Tomura, I...I want to ride you.” 

His brow furrows and he gives you a bewildered look, red eyes flashing over your distant, blissed out, expression. “Huh?”

“I said, I want to r-ride you. I want you on your back so I can...ohh...fuck,” your demand shakes to a halt as he gives you a harsh cant, his cock swelling as your walls flutter around him. 

“What’s wrong with this?” he scoffs, lifting his rubbing fingers and leaving your clit abandoned and aching. You keen at the loss, hips blindly rising, hoping you’ll catch him before he’s too far away. 

“Damn it,” you sulk, missing your target and tilting your chin, meeting his hazy eyes and wrinkling your nose. “There’s nothing wrong with this, I just want you deeper. Fucking you...ah– fucking you, when you’re on your back, will let me take more of you. Come on, just this once? If you don’t like it, I– ”

In the blink of an eye, Tomura wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up, slinking under your quivering legs and stretching himself on the sheets. Your fingers scrabble for balance, accidentally scratching down his stomach. He growls at the sudden, trickling, pain but he’s impatient for you to move, so he responds to your unintended hurt by thrusting up, into your heat, leaking some of your copious arousal onto his thighs. 

“This doesn’t feel any different,” he grouses, his eyes glaring up at you before they dodge away, scowling out at his room, already frustrated that he’s given into your request, especially since it’s not looking like he’ll be getting much out of it.  

“Give me a second,” you complain, finally steadying yourself and bracing your knees on the soft mattress. Once you’ve gotten your barings, you rise up, savoring the sting of his thick cock as it’s lifted from you. You roll your hips when you lower yourself and Tomura grunts, minutely curving his back, his lips curling into a pleased grimace. “How’s that?” you ask, preparing to repeat the motion, keeping your legs close and your pussy clenched, exulting in his choked moans. 

“It...it’s ok,” Tomura concedes, a lovely blush beginning to seep over his face. His fingers tremble when they settle on your working hips, urging you to pick up your pace, but you ignore his silent request, circling yourself as you bottom him out, gently teasing him. 

“Awe,” you pout, trailing your hands to him, cupping at his jaw and turning him toward you. His eyes meet yours briefly and he quietly murmurs a few curses, trying to pull his chin from your warm digits. “Just ok?” you continue, letting your legs spread, rutting him into you, squeezing your sopping channel around his length. “I’m hurt. I figured you’d like this. Don’t I feel good? You feel amazing, so fucking hard and oh– Did you like that? Mmm, that felt nice. Tell me what it feels like for you, Tomura. I wanna know.” 

He dips his head back, unable to resist giving you a few sharp thrusts, his hips taking on a mind of their own as he begins to pulse inside you. That blush has bled down his neck and onto his broad chest, sprinkling his skin with a rosy hue. You drag your nails over the redness and he sucks in an unsteady breath, his eyes popping open and fixing you with a dazed stare. 

“Come on,” you taunt, bringing your knees back to the sides of his hips and lifting, rising, until his tip is beginning to slip from your quivering core. He hums at the feeling and the scar on his lip quirks as he gulps down a snarl. “I know, I’ll make a deal with you. Tell me how it feels for you and I’ll give you what you want,” you bargain, jutting your hips back and forth, teasing his swollen cock head until he’s digging bruises into your plush thighs. 

“What...what are you…doing...” Tomura gasps, his head lifting as he attempts to regain some control, his hands gripping you, trying to force you back to him. You click your tongue and lean away, out of his reach. “Don’t be like that. I just want to hear what you think. How can I possibly know if this feels good, if it makes you happy, if you don’t tell me?”

Tomura’s legs curl under you and his head shakes, white hair trailing along his neck, sticking to his damp skin. “I– it...it feels ok, I told you that.”

“Daw, but that’s vague,” you sulk, although you do sink down his straining cock, not quite all the way to his base, but low enough to reward him. Tomura sputters out a hiss when you do and he flops back to the bed, shaking. “Come on Tomura, give me a little more? Please?” you ask, fingers trailing along his stomach, drawing patterns into his slopes and grooves. 

“It feels...warm and it’s wet, so fucking wet, but...it...it hurts...I want more. Give me more. You said you’d take me deeper, not...not...ah– yes...yes…” He’s rasping as you engulf him to his hilt. You use your hands to brace yourself, picking up that cant, spearing him into you and keening when he hits something soft at the front of your pussy. Tomura’s eyes gleam when he notices your trembling and he lifts his legs, planting his feet under you and slamming himself into your undulating cunt. 

Your fingers wander to your clit and you start to roll those heady circles against yourself, oscillating waves of pleasure from your slippery bud. Tomura lets out a long sigh and he shivers as you break, edging yourself along that sharp ledge and falling into the mind numbing ecstasy that waits. As you drip and clench around him, Tomura gives out a weak shout and releases into you, thick bursts of his cum pulsing against your overstimulated and aching walls. 

You fall against him and he clings to you, kissing sloppily at your damp brow. After the heat of your coupling, your skin quickly begins to cool and you burrow into his warmth, careful to keep him tucked inside you, enjoying the softening of his length and the oozing slop that’s leaking from your cunt and onto the sheets. 

“What was that?” Tomura asks, his voice distant, awed.

“What?” you repeat innocently, pleased that these little pushes you’re giving him are working. You like seeing him disheveled and desperate and you want to see more. 

******

 It’s been easier between the two of you, since you’d worked your way back into his trust, but Tomura, being Tomura, still has his darker moments. 

He hasn’t permitted you to leave his room, still bringing you meals and keeping you close, binding you, or locking you in, when he can’t. But the nights are very different. He’s gentle with you again and he likes to duck into your arms, his white head pillowed against your breast. For your part, you’ve done your best to foster those urges, welcoming him and whispering soft words of praise over his bowed head. It’s a quiet lull and you like the shaking kisses he gives you, pleased with your acceptance. 

One evening, however, he comes to you in a blind rage.

Someone’s done something to shake him, to work him into this state, molding him into a walking, talking, callous being of anger and vitriol, but he won’t give you any names, or any particular reason for the sudden wrath. Instead, he opts to shove you down and spread you open, barely slipping his pants over his hips as he tugs his engorged, leaking, cock from the elastic band of his boxers. You’re not prepared for his first thrust and he growls in frustration as he sticks to you, lingering outside of your heat, unable to press forward. 

“Fuck,” he snarls, slicking his tongue over one thumb and lowering it to your clit, frantically rubbing at you, encouraging you to bead some of that glimmering arousal over your lower lips. 

“Tomura...Tomura...wait...I’m...ouch,” you whine, unable to hold still, shrinking from his aggression. “You can’t just shove your dick in me...I’ve gotta– ”

“Shut up,” Tomura grunts, maintaining that rough pressure, pinching at your half risen clit, pulling the hood away and mashing the pad of his thumb over the tiny bud. “I just want to...damn it…why won’t you– This isn’t fucking fair. I thought...I thought you were always ready for me, now? Why bother with you if you can’t give me what I want? Fucking slut, come on. I know you want me. Why won’t you– hey!”

Grateful that he’s neglected to tie you down today, you kick at him, scrabbling away from his belligerent touches. Tomura, displeased, snatches your ankle and tumbles you over, cracking his hand against your newly presented ass, startling a strangled gasp from your lips.

“Stop that,” he scolds, yanking you back and pressing you down, lifting your posterior and running a warm palm down the fleshy curve, soaking in the heat he’s struck from your skin. “I’m going to fuck you, so you might as well get used to that idea. Now, keep still (Y/N).”

“And I told you to hang on,” you grumble, twisting your head around to glower up at him. Shockingly, he pauses, his eyes narrowing as he leans back, lowering his hand to his throbbing length, tugging at himself, relieving some of the pressure that he’s worked up, waiting.  

“Just...what happened? Can’t you at least talk to me, before you try to fuck me inside out? What– ”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Tomura frowns, already pulling you back to him, prepared to line up with your unprepared cunt and shove his way inside you, ready or not. 

“No, wait. But what if– ”

“But what if?” Tomura mimics, unamused with your continued struggles. “My head hurts and I want to feel you. So, stop arguing with me, stop being such a–”

“If you finish that sentence I swear to fucking God, Tomura, I’ll– ”

“What? You’ll what? What are you gonna do? Huh?”

“Ugh, stop being such an ass, Tomura. It’s not like I pissed you off. How would you like it if I did this shit to you?”

“If you fucked me until I couldn’t think anymore? I’d say thank you and not be so– ”

“So let me do that,” you snap, wriggling out of his grip and flipping yourself around, fingers already reaching for his half clothed thighs and pulling yourself up to him. Tomura freezes underneath your touch and his eyes are wide, whisking over your upturned face. 

“You’ve got this, mmm, backwards,” he grouses, unable to resist bucking into you when one of your palms slips over his dripping cock.

“Do I?” you smile, kissing along his jaw, pausing to suck at his earlobe. He gasps at the sensation and his head butts into you, easing you off of that sensitive skin. “I’ll make it good for you, I promise,” you coo. 

He’s quiet for a time and the only sounds you can hear are the wet squelches of your hand, gliding up and down his succulent cock, squeezing when you reach the tip and working some of that dribbling precum over your fingers. You’re about to posit another question when you hear him, breathy and low, rumbling out his answer to your soft seduction. 

“Fine. What do you want me to do?”

Oh, fuck yes. You bite back your smile and pull yourself from his neck, meeting his eyes and reveling in that sweet blush he’s gifting you. Your hand keeps up a delicious friction, mollifying his ragged needs, and you study his face, debating your next move. He looks frustrated, but there’s something else hiding behind those vermillion eyes, something that’s curious, avid. 

“Let’s see,” you ponder, already feeling intoxicated off of this new sensation, this burgeoning power he’s bestowing you. “Since you were, oh, so impatient earlier, how about you show me just how wet you want me to be?”

Tomura snorts, rolling his eyes. “You could have just said you wanted me to eat you out.”

“Oh? I’m sorry, was my request unclear about that?” you smart, lifting your fingers away from his cock, pausing to wipe his slick lubrication down his pants. Tomura sucks his teeth at that, but lets the impudence slide. “Well?” you question, laying back and cocking your head at him, spreading your legs, granting him a swift peek at your flushing pussy. “You gonna make me wait all day? Oh, and take your pants off. It’s not fair you always get to keep all the layers on.”

“Why the fuck am I letting you do this, again?” Tomura growls, slipping his long legs out of his stained jeans and tossing them on the floor. His shirt follows and, despite his grumbling, he quickly slots himself between your spread thighs, his nose already dipped and sniffing loudly, inhaling the heady aroma of you dampening curls. 

His fingers thread to your dewy folds and he splits your lips apart, gathering some of the gossamer webs along his fingertips. You give him a pleased hum and he sinks his index finger into you, head lifting so he can watch you arch against the intrusion. “Hey, (Y/N),” he smirks, adding a second finger and v-ing the two, stretching you open, “I asked you a question.”

“Because you wanna see what I’ve got planned for you,” you gasp out, lifting yourself onto your elbows, wanting to observe his teasing explorations. 

“Do I? What makes you think that?”

“You can’t help yourself. Besides, I think you like pleasing me. You like when I tell you nice things or when I say you’re doing a good job.”

“Hmph,” Tomura jeers, shaking his head at your assessment, but he doesn’t comment further, content to silently watch as your cunt swallows his fingers. Your arousal soon coats the digits and begins to drip down his palm and onto his wrist. He’s just about to lean forward, to press those rough lips against you when you tut at him.

“Uh-uh,” you scold, lowering one knee and trapping his hand between your thighs, barring him from you. Tomura flashes a displeased expression your way, but humors you, stilling his movement. “Gotta ask,” you inform him, arching one delicate brow at his redding cheeks. 

“Ask? I thought you said you wanted me to make you wet?” Tomura sneers, his red eyes hardening, like flecked rubies in the darkness of his room. 

“Sure did. So, do you think you’ve done a good enough job? Or are you wanting to do more?”

Tomura’s jaw flops open and he fixes you with a sour look. “What?”

“It’s not that difficult, Tomura. I want to know if this is the best you can do?” 

“Of course it’s not. It’s– ”

“Well then,” you interrupt, lifting your knee again and arching yourself toward him. “Show me. Ask me if you can eat me out.” 

“I’m not– I–” His eyes have drifted from yours and that blush is deepening, seeping over his skin, staining him with his flustered want. Oh, this is working too well, you think, tilting your head at his abashed grumbling. 

“Come on, handsome,” you call, trailing your foot along his lean side, watching him quake and gasp. “Do it for me? Just this once?”

Tomura glances back up at you and he clicks his teeth together, trying to muster his wavering desires. “C-can I eat you out?” 

“Oh, baby. That was so fucking good, thank you. Go on, you earned it.”

In seconds, Tomura’s beet red face is buried between your thighs. His lips latch onto your clit and he starts to suckle at the budding flesh, his saliva leaching from his lips. The warmth of him makes you shiver and your fingers sink into his silvery hair, threading along the strands and scritching at his scalp. His caresses are sloppy and he hunches himself closer, lapping and slurping at you, groaning when you flutter around his imbedded fingers. 

As you’re indulging yourself, whispering soft encouragement over his bowed head, you notice one of his hands drifting toward his straining cock, his fingers twitching as they grasp at the bulbous head, eager to work out some of that simmering pressure. “Stop that!” you snap, startling him, making him lose his grip on you. 

You curl your digits into his hair, yanking him up, straining his neck as you demand his full attention. His eyes are narrowed and gleaming, ire written all over his slicked face. 

“What the f-fuck?” he growls, tongue lapping at the residual threads of your arousal, trying to work steel into his voice.

“I said you could eat me out, not that you could touch yourself,” you retort, tugging at his hair until he’s moaning, his hips unconsciously humping against the bed. “Oh, you like that? Well that doesn’t work at all. Get on your knees.”

“What? I thought that– ”

“Get on your fucking knees, Tomura.”

“Stop telling me what to do you fucking– ah– God.” Your fingers release his hair and before he can stumble out another snarl you’re shoving him back, your hand wrapping around his cock, squeezing and pressing quick jerks over him. 

You let him fall to his back and you loom over him, teeth latching onto his scarred neck, biting and pulling, coaxing a low whine from his throat. Your hand slows and he keeps trying to rut into your palm, his legs trembling as he flounders against the sheets. “You wanna cum? Hmm, do you? You want me to finish you off? Talk to me, Tomura.”

He’s overwrought under your ministrations, his head lowered and his brow furrowed. His eyes keep opening and closing, too disjointed to focus on anything but your touch. He tries to gulp something out, but it’s lost in a smothered groan seconds later. He looks fucking cute, you think, watching him, rutting your hips over his raised knee. Drool starts to fleck out of his mouth and his back bows and arches. He’s practically unhinged, but it’s not enough. He’d never let you get away with not answering a question, so why should he get special treatment?

Your hand slows and he pouts, a long groan leaching from between his clenched teeth. “I asked you a question,” you mime, licking along his cheek, pulling some of that extra saliva he’d frothed out into your waiting mouth. “Do you want me to finish you off? Or should I leave you like this?”

“P-plea...finish me off,” he whispers, his voice rasping. 

“Ooh, was that what I think it was? Baby, did you almost say please? I’d love that so much. Oh fuck, that makes me want to take care of you.” You kiss at his temple and he quakes, his hips rising, trying to force your palm back into that rhythm. 

“I didn’t...I didn’t mean to...just fucking…(Y/N)...” Tomura lets out a reedy whine when you lift your hand from him, letting his cock spring from your grasp, the tip curving toward his stomach, swollen and red. 

“Oh no, you didn’t mean to? That’s not nice, no that’s not fucking nice at all. Especially after I just told you how much I liked that idea.” you lift your sticky fingers to your lips and lick up the last bits of his precum, humming contentedly and lifting your eyes to his. He’s watching you, his eyes hooded and dark. His breaths are coming in low heaves and he’s gritting his teeth, but he hasn’t reached for himself. No, there is a wild look in his eyes and you want to see if you can make it worse.

“Say please and I’ll touch you,” you tell him, your voice lulling, tempting.

He looks away from you and he starts to shake his head, but then you hear him, whisper thin, broken, and oh, so fucking needy, so exquisite. “Please, I-I wanna cum. Touch me, please (Y/N).”

You take him back into your hands, your fingers gentle as they wrap around that velvet skin, careful to build him back up slowly. You rise up on your knees and tilt his chin up, wanting to feel his lips on yours. Tomura sucks in a ragged breath when you tap soft caress to him, his body surging forward, demanding more. You indulge him, letting him slip his rough tongue into your mouth, pressing and dipping until he’s inebriated off the sheer closeness of you. When you pull away he lets out a huff and you stroke a hand down his flushed face. 

“You’re doing so well baby. Do you like it?”

“Y-yes, can...can you g-go faster?” he stammers, his mouth falling open and head tipping back when you acquiesce, picking up speed. He’s starting to sway, his back hunkering forward and backwards, knees spreading, drifting closer and closer to his release. Your thumb traces over his slit and you pull a glistening strand of precum from him, clinging and wet as it dangles across the short distance you’ve created. 

“God, handsome. You’re doing such a good job, I’m so fucking proud of you. I know it’s not easy, but you’re perfect. How does it feel, love? Are you gonna cum for me?”

He moans at your declarations, unable to even gasp the words out, leaning forward and burying his face in your shoulder. His brow is jagged against your smooth skin, but you let him rub himself against you, feeling the heat of his blush and the damp stick of his lips as he tries to catch his breath. 

“It’s ok, baby. I’ll take care of you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Are you ready to cum for me?”

He nods, his head thumping on your neck, another thin strip of drool escaping his open mouth. It trickles down your breast, cooling and prickling your flesh as it passes. You kiss at his lowered brow and he sighs, muttering something that’s too distant for you to hear. 

“Hmm, love? What was that? I can’t hear you,” you tell him, tightening the grip on his slippery cock, feeling those tell-tale flutterings that proceed his release. He’s scalding under your palm and he keeps trying to scoot closer, his hands shaking beside his hips, one of them reaching for you and digging into your side. 

“I-I said...fuck...let me cum, mom...m-mommy, please,” the last two words leave him on a yelp and he pulses in your hand, spurting thick cables of his cum across your lap and his. 

In the lull that follows, Tomura drags you against him, not caring that he’s smearing himself all over you and his chest. He pulls you down and wraps his long arms around you, caging you to him as he regains his breathing. You ignore the wet sticking that he’s rubbing into your lower half and you pull yourself higher, shifting until you can see his face. He’s still flushed and his eyes are clouded, but he lets you kiss at the side of his face. 

A silence stretches over the two of you and you’re unsure what to say. 

You’d liked pushing him and you’d liked how he bent to your demands, but that last comment, that final utterance he’d grunted into your shoulder as he worked himself into a frenzy, well, you’re not sure how you felt about that. Sure, it had made your pussy clench and you’re fairly certain it would only take a quick tweak of your fingers to shatter that burning ache within you, but what exactly have you awakened? Would he even acknowledge it, later after he’s escaped this haze that he’s slipped into? Would he...would he let you do that to him again? 

His drying cum is making your skin pull and you try to shift from his hold, but Tomura keeps clutching you, refusing to budge. 

“I- I just want to clean myself. Can I go to the bathroom? I’ll be– ”

“Don’t go, not yet,” Tomura replies, his tone gravel and forgotten ash. His arms tighten and you chance a quick glance at his turned face, meeting his eyes and absolutely melting. 

His expression is slack and his eyes are wide, with a childlike wonderment, and when you look at him he smiles. “Stay with me?” he asks and you wrap yourself around him, feeling for that familiar beat of his heart as it pulses, steady and strong, under your shaking fingers. 

******

A few days later, Tomura tells you to put on a new, grey, robe and leads you down one of the long walkways, toward one of the closed rooms that sits at the back of the hideout. He opens the door and hot steam pours from the tiled space, bushing against your face and tickling your nose. Inside sits a porcelain, square, ofuro bath. Your eyes lift to his, but he’s not looking at you. Instead, he’s wholly focused on tugging you inside, sliding the door shut and sealing you both in the fresh condensation.

“Leave your robe on that table by the door,” he tells you, already stripping off his dark shirt and lowering his four fingered grip to his belt, clattering the metal under his nails. You shift to obey, carefully folding the soft fabric and waiting for him, shivering against the cool tiles.

Tomura turns to you once he’s finished and regards you silently, his eyes lingering over your face. “Come on,” he rasps, gesturing his head toward the bath. He lets you step in first and once you’ve sunk into the water he wedges himself behind you, hissing against the warmth. Tentatively, you lean your back to his chest and Tomura shifts you over him, slotting his legs alongside your hips. Once you’re both comfortable, you slide your feet to the end of the tub, resting your head close to Tomura’s collarbone, quietly luxuriating in the gentle warmth. 

“So, um, I didn’t even know this room was here. Not that I know a lot about any of the rooms, so I guess that’s a stupid point. Anyway, why did you wanna do this? I mean...I like this, I’m just confused,” you correct, tilting your head up to look at his face. His eyes are closed and his lip is set into a light curve, smirking at your question. 

“Think of it as my way of getting you back for the other night, in the shower,” he rumbles, his voice deep as it reverberates around your ears. 

“Really?” you laugh, trailing your hand over the water, watching the ripples spread and fade. 

“Yeah, haven’t seen you this off balance in weeks,” Tomura teases, resting his chin over your head. 

“Pfft,” you scoff, brushing a bit of water over his chest, “you wish.” 

“I do,” he sighs, bringing his arm down over you, quieting your playful splashes. “I figured you’d like this and you’ve shown me that it’s nice to do things for the people you love.” The mention of the word love makes your heart miss a beat and you try to peek up at his face again, but his chin holds you still. It’s not the first time he’s said it to you. No, he’s said it plenty of times before and in plenty of ways. Sometimes it was a threat, other times it was a calculation, something that was supposed to make you pause, make you second guess yourself, letting a strange, nagging guilt prick along the back of your mind. 

But, there’s something different about this utterance of the endearment.

It’s quiet and it’s spoken with no layering of underlying motives. No, he said it like he...like he meant it, perhaps for the first time. You press back against his slick pectorals and he hums at the weight of you, pleased by your response to his declaration. The water laps at your sides and you snach his arms, wrapping them around you, stroking delicate designs over his wet skin. 

******

“I don’t– I don’t think that’s it,” you pant, your fingers slick. They’re too slippery, really. You can’t get a good grip on him and you keep flicking your eyes up to his, positive he’s gonna to buck you off of him any second.

He’s quiet, his lips set into a white line, but that blush of his, oh, that will never not look nice. When you fumble again he shifts, arching and impatient, but he doesn’t tell you to stop. Why would he?

It was his idea after all.

He’d murmured the request when the water cooled about the two of you. But your chill was forgotten as soon as he rasped the words against your ear, tickling your sensitive skin. When you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak, his cock began to swell behind you, prodding and curious. 

As you entered his dark bedroom, he didn’t even give you a moment to breathe, lifting you to him, lips biting, sucking, licking you senseless. Once your knees bumped the mattress he urged you to sit, leaving your side to fish something out of a nearby drawer. He tapped the bottle down on the lone side table, nudging it expectantly and fixing you with a grinning leer. 

You’ve never done anything like this, never thought about it, never...no...no, that’s a lie. You have thought about it before and you’ve heard about it, too. I-It was supposed to feel good, right? 

Now, if you could only do this correctly.

You ball your hand into a fist and bite your lip, take a steadying breath and give him another lidded glance, watching him from the curtain of your eyelashes. “Ready?” you ask, rubbing your thumb and index finger together, trying to warm up the glossy lube. 

Tomura doesn’t grace you with a verbal affirmation, instead he simply nods his head, cascading his white hair over his forehead. Alright, you think, scooting closer and lowering one finger to him, reaching for his cock with your opposite hand. You grip him firmly, coiling your digits and admiring the dribble of precum that greets your pump. Tomura lets out a low exhale and arches again, those fervid eyes falling behind his eyelids. 

While you’re pulling and squeezing him, your trembling finger traces a circle around his puckered asshole, teasing at the muscle, giving him time to adjust. Once you’ve dampened him to your satisfaction, you dip into that warmth and gasp, your other hand faltering, accidentally loosening your hold on his straining length. 

You peek up at him, but his head has fallen back and his broad chest is heaving. Again, he’s not protesting, or demanding that you stop, so you keep going. That first ring of muscle is tight, pinching your intruding digit when you try to sink further. As you wait for him to acclimate to the foreign sensation, you focus on his cock, bending your head over him and giving him a long suck. Your tongue swirls around his tip and you lap at the bubbling, salty, precum that floods your mouth. Again, Tomura stretches and shoves his hips forward, encouraging you, wordlessly telling you to keep going. 

His dick slides from your lips with a wet pop and your hand makes up for the loss, jerking moans from his open lips. You twist your opposite wrist and drive your finger in, plunging the last knuckle past that quivering ring. Flexing the digit, you begin to feel around for a bulge, the one that he asked you to stimulate for him.

He said he wanted to know how it felt and, best of all, he wanted you to push him until he begged you to stop.

It’s hot and sleek inside him and you’re worried that you might miss it. After all, it’s not like...wait...what...is that? There’s something protruding and it feels both hard and soft under your finger pad. Unsure, you stroke over it again and Tomura does something wonderful in response.

When you apply the slightest whisper of pressure his legs curl up, bracing his feet against the sheets and he lets out the breathiest whine. His fingers scrabble beside him, slapping and gripping at the bedding until you’re sure he’s about to decay the whole fucking thing and leave you both blinking on the dusty floor. 

“D-did– that feel good?” you query, amazed at the clenching his body is doing. Tomura nods his head, white hair splayed across the mattress and you pause, waiting for him to gather himself back together. 

“Again,” he finally grunts, craning his neck to give you a staggered glare, his eyes cloudy.  

Licking your lips, you give the gland another press and Tomura practically writhes off the bed. He’s groaning and gasping, choking out your name as he works himself closer. His cock pulsates in your hand and a line of milky white cum spurts out. It’s not enough to be a true release, but it makes your mouth go dry. 

Tomura sits up and his eyes immediately ensnare yours, blazing as he looks up at you. “Fucking keep going, don’t stop,” he barks, his voice splintered, hoarse. Keeping your finger close to the swell of his prostate, you shake your head at him. Tomura snarls at your impudence, but when you start to withdraw your finger he quiets, his teeth grinding behind his scowling face. 

“Don’t be an ass,” you challenge, fingers scooping up some of his leaked cum, using it to ease your renewed motions. Tomura buckles at that and his head drops to his chest, shaking out a few unsteady breaths. “If you want me to keep touching you like this, you better ask me nicely.” To emphasize your point, you lightly scrape your nail over that sensitive spot inside him, making him shudder and sigh. 

“Keep going, please,” he spits out. It’s dripping with more false supplication than true politeness, but you’ll take it. Since he reacted so well to that first press, you can’t help but wonder what he’ll do when you circle some modulated pressure around him. Oh, and it’s a perfect reaction. As soon as you complete that first rotation he’s a gooey mess, his bowed head shaking and nodding as he scrapes out your name.    

“Oh handsome,” you sigh, watching as another burst of precum trickles from his slit, coating your hand in a tacky sheen of pearl colored liquid. “You look so good. Being such a good boy and taking me like this. Does it feel good? Do you like it? Talk to me.”

Tomura whimpers when you repeat the oscillation, his voice slipping into a giddy edge, cracking and rising. “Fuck yes. It– it feels– oh fuck– again, again. Do it again. I-I mean...please. Ohhh God, (Y/N)!” 

He’s laughing now, his throat snagging as his moans hit a high pitched garble. “Ah-haha— I know, you liked it when I called you mommy. I saw your fucking face. It looked so pretty. Want me to say it again? Ah– oh, oh. I’ll do it. I’ll do it if you keep– hahaaa— fuck, fuck, fuck– I’ll– m-mommy. Oh, fucking God. Mommy don’t stop! Come here, fucking come here. I don’t care if you’re not rubbing my dick. Come here mommy and let me show you how much I fucking waaant you.”

His hands paw at you and he drags you up, lifting you with a lithe strength that you’ve never seen. Your finger, too slick to withstand the pull, slips from him and he groans at the loss. “I didn’t mean–” you begin, but he silences you with a fevered kiss, his teeth clinking against yours. He drowns out your protestations and swiftly straddles you over him, pressing you down and spearing you onto his messy cock. 

Once he bottoms out, the tip of him pulsing deliciously as he indulges himself in your wet heat, he leans back and gives you a wild grin, his eyes bright. “Fuck, yes. Ride me mommy. Let me show you what a good boy I am.”

notes: (￣▽￣*)ゞ  

tags: @libiraki​ (i’m tagging you cuz imma make you into a tomura fucker if it’s the last thing i do) @spicy-skull​, @xwildskullx​, @yixxes​, @ghstmthr​, @rekoii​, @diaouranask​, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love​

[dreamingaboutreid]

Hospital Bed Confessions: Chapter 7

*Continuation*

*Flash-forward*

Spencer was truly in awe. It had been 8 months since you joined the BAU.

Hotch seemed much happier with no more mountains of paperwork on his desk. All the files were neatly filed in Y/N’s office and his workload was greatly alleviated. He also had someone to confide to and understand a little bit of the pressure he had been experiencing.

Emily loved having a fellow Chesapeake Bay alumnus. With JJ being on mom-duty, Emily had a friend to go out with after she returned to the team, and they seemed to have plethora of things to talk about and relate to. He often heard them discussing their love of Kilgore Trout or favorite traveling destination.

Penelope was ecstatic to have another affectionate and loving member on the team. Y/N spent a lot of time with Garcia on deciding cases and it was evident how much they cherished each other. Y/N often brought in colorful collectibles and helped Penelope arrange them in her office.

Rossi respected Y/N’s focused yet good-natured character. They shared stories of their time in the military, which they rarely disclosed with the other members. He thought of Y/N as a daughter and took pleasure in sharing his knowledge of cars and whiskey.

JJ treated Y/N like a sister. It was obvious how similar they were. Both attentive and considerate with remarkable people skills. Y/N also became JJ’s go-to babysitter as JJ full heartedly trusted her with kids, which was a huge compliment coming from JJ.

Derek enjoyed Y/N’s company, who had a surprising knowledge of football, and would often make fun bets on what team would win the next game. He would also come to you for solid advice when he needed someone to level with him.

Not to mention, everyone was thrilled to go home at least an hour earlier normal, thanks to your fast but thorough write-ups you continued to do every day on behalf of the team.

For Spencer, you were a whole new world. He not only appreciated you as a hardworking member but as a new best friend.

You never interrupted him and seemed genuinely invested in whatever he said. Whether it was a new book he was reading or a new foreign film that came out. You truly made him feel heard and cared for. After he told you about Maeve, it felt like something was taken off his shoulder. Like you knew his pain and rather than only feeling sorry for him, they shared it together.

He also truly admired your ability to talk to people. Whether it was a serial killer who was holding a gun to someone’s head or a sobbing parent who had just lost a child or even an abrasive detective they had to work with, you just knew exactly what to say.

Spencer couldn’t place a flaw in you. The way you smiled, talked, listened, walked, ate, slept, heck everything, seemed so perfect to him.

When Blake came to his apartment to say her farewell, he was devastated. Another person was walking out of his life. But for the first time, he didn’t wallow up in his apartment by himself, blaming his eidetic memory for repeating all their conversations in his head or contemplating then shutting down his mental debate on taking dilaudid.

He didn’t hesitate to dial your number, and you appeared in front of his door in a matter of minutes. You had the ability to listen to his problems and somehow make them go away, or at least make him feel better.

While he always appreciated it, it bothered Spencer after a while how you never came to him when you wanted to feel better. You managed to carry all that weight without yourself ever breaking.

But he realized that it wasn’t anything personal. You just never showed much emotions to anyone, except for happy ones.

Spencer remembered when Derek asked you one day,

“How come you never come to us when you’re feeling down? There’s no way you’re always a ray of sunshine. Even baby girl has her emotional breakdowns.”

You had quickly brushed it off and said, “I’d rather make people smile than worry or cry.”

And it was the end of that.

Spencer often thought about this. Derek made a very good point. You were human after all.

But he knew that there was something much darker in you.

While you didn’t voice your emotions, your eyes told a different story.

When you were interrogating unsubs, your eyes became cold but your words remained calm and almost soothing, as if you were luring them out their lies to know their true intentions. When you were talking to victims or victims’ families, your eyes showed sympathy and it comforted whoever you were consoling when explaining that the unit was doing our best. And when you were talking to the ones you loved and cared about, you allowed your eyes to relax but there was a twinkle that he couldn’t keep his own eyes off of.

He hoped that you would open up to him, like he had to you.

But, it wasn’t too long until his wish was answered and he witnessed something that changed everything.

Y/N’s POV

You were exhausted.

It wasn’t the workload or rigor your job came with.

It was the emotional tole. You learned how to compartmentalize your feelings well from losing the ones you loved from experience.

But this job was different from talking to soldiers or serial killers. You were talking to normal people. You had unconsciously put your guard down and the emotions hit you little by little.

Every day, you walked in to deciding which cases to solve and you walked out hoping it was the right one to choose. The extra work you were doing actually helped keep your mind out of all the feelings and reality and helped focus your energy on something tangible.

You weren’t sure what came over you that day, but you had been on edge the whole jet ride back from a case. When everyone arrived back to the office, it wasn’t just you who was drained.

“Everyone go home early and get some ready. You deserve it. But report back tomorrow at 9 to finish your statements,” stated Hotch.

“I think I’ll stay back. Finish some of the paperwork,” you stated with a weak smile.

Hotch looked at you reluctantly.

“Are you sure? Everyone’s worn out. It’s okay to go,” Hotch said.

“It must be all the coffee,” you joked lamely, hoping Hotch took the excuse.

Hotch didn’t seem to notice as it was quite normal for you to stay late.

“Alright. Well, everyone thank Y/N on the way out and report back tomorrow at 10,” Hotch said as patted you on the back as he exited.

“Thanks for the extra hour of sleep,” Rossi stated as he walked towards the elevator.

“You’re an actual lifesaver,” Morgan commented.

As everyone said their respective greetings and left, you quickly ran up to JJ.

“Hey, JJ. Can I ask you a favor?” you asked.

“Of course! I owe you anyways,” JJ said.

“Do you mind if you give Spencer a ride home? Usually I take him, but I don’t want him to wait for me and he seems pretty tired,” you stated.

While you truly loved the arrangement you had with Spencer, you needed some space right now.

“Sounds like a plan. Just tell him I’ll be waiting in the car,” JJ said as she grabbed her belonging.

You thanked her and gave her a quick hug.

You turned and found Spencer already reading a book by his desk. Even though you thought Spencer always looked handsome, you had to admit that he did look tired.

“Hey, Spence. I think I’m going to stay a little late today.”

“Yeah, I heard you telling Hotch. I don’t mind waiting,” he said.

It must have been the pent up emotions you had been suppressing as you could feel your eyes slightly tearing up. You quickly forced them away, praying Spencer didn’t catch on. No matter how many times Spencer displayed his kindness and patience, you always appreciated his small acts of compassion.

“No, no. You must be exhausted. I asked JJ to take you home, and she’s waiting in her car for you. Seriously, get some rest,” you reassured Spencer.

After a bit of reluctancy, Spencer replied,

“Okay, I probably shouldn’t keep JJ waiting for too long. Thanks, Y/N. Don’t stay too late.”

You simply nodded and you watched Spencer walk away while looking back.

You waved, indicating that it was okay to leave.

After he finally left, it was just you, all alone. You turned off the lights in the pit, making it pitch dark, and walked into your office.

Closing your door and only turning on the light on your desk, you went to the corner of the room and sank down as you burst into tears.

It wasn’t the first time you had a breakdown. But it was always behind closed door. In the bathtub in your house. In the comfort of your bed. At the safety of your house. But today, you couldn’t hold it until you went home.

As you wept, you hoped the tears you released would somehow erase the remorse you felt. You sobbed without anything holding you back until you felt a looming presence over your crouched figure.

“Oh my gosh, Spencer. You startled me, I didn’t notice you were here,” you quickly said as you tried to wipe away the evidence of your momentary vulnerability. You didn’t need a mirror to know that it was an unsuccessful attempt.

“Sorry, I saw the light in your office and thought you’d be in here.”

“Did you forget something?” you asked, puzzled by his unexpected return.

“No, I just didn’t want you to be all alone so I told JJ that she could just go home,” Spencer said softly.

He continued, “I also saw you were a bit uneasy earlier.”

So Spencer hadnoticed.

“In fact, it seemed like you were stressed the whole day. Are you okay?” he asked.

You weren’t sure if it was the display of Spencer’s empathy again or the fact that he recognized something was bothering you when you were able to hide it from a group of profilers, but you felt the tears reappearing again and you didn’t want to hold back.

You broke into sobs for the second time that day and slowly slid back into the position you were originally in.

Spencer didn’t hesitate to join you as he sat and put a tight protective arm around you while he just let you cry.

“Am I making the right decisions? Who am I to choose who dies or lives? What if….” you trailed as you muffled all your worries into his chest.

For the first in a long time, you felt safe in the arms of someone else. You didn’t have to, or heck, want to hide yourself anymore. When Spencer held your hand, you knew.

You looked up to see the most understanding eyes, and you knew right then and there that you had found your person.

[jawritter]

The Art Of Letting Go

Summary: You though you were searching for Demon!Dean to help Sammy cure his brother. When you do find him, Dean shows you just exactly what you’ve been looking for.

Created for: @spndarkbingo

Square Field: Dub Con

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Smut, fingering, Demon!Dean (yes, he has his own warning), slight angst, dub con, language, spn level violence, I think that’s it...

A/N: This fic was beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks hun! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!

Want more? Check out my MASTERLIST! Still want more? BECOME A PATREON, and get exclusive fics and make request!! 

People are affected by things differently. No one processes trauma the same way. Some people close up completely. They refuse to talk about what they’ve been through, and shut themselves off to everyone around them. Some people chose therapy. They choose a professional stranger as a way to vent, or get it off their chest. Some people get violent and want to seek revenge for whatever happened to them, whether that be to a person, group of people, or just the universe in general. 

You’ve seen it all. This life, it had very few secrets left for people in your line of work. You’ve seen them cry, kill themselves, go bat shit crazy and murder everyone they were ever attached too. You’ve seen them lock themselves in the house and refuse to come outside again. 

You often wondered what had happened to that girl. She was such a good hunter. She had finally come across the one thing she couldn’t handle mentally. You were pretty sure it would happen to you one day as well. 

In all the things you’ve seen, in all the horrors you’ve experienced, in all the shit you’ve hunted, you’ve never seen anything that held a candle to Dean Winchester. He once was a damn good hunter,  a friend, but had now turned demon. You know it was the mark that had turned him, and what it was doing to him that made him who he was today, but to say he was handling the trauma from his past life as a human to now swimmingly was bullshit. He literally took all the trauma he’d been through in his life, channeled the anger, took on the fucking mark of Cain and died  and became a demon. You didn’t give a shit what Sam said. Dean had done it on purpose. 

At least he was creative? 

You and Dean  had never been very close, but in all fairness, Dean was only ever close to a handful full of people. You? Hell, you were just another hunter. Not someone he was ever attached too. Not that he had time to even really get to know you anyway. You grew up in one of the many hunting compounds, and you joined about a month before Dean became the beast you were currently hunting. 

You had always idolized Dean in a way. You had heard all the stories over the years growing up, and you always wanted to work with him, meet him. Now? Fuck, now you were hunting the very man you swore that one day, you’d work along side him to save the world. Funny how that shit turned out. 

Sam swore he could cure Dean. You remain unconvinced. Either way, the problem at the moment was finding the bastard. Years of hunting when he was human made Dean damn near impossible to find, and you were pretty sure he was leaving the pair of you a trail of breadcrumbs that literally had you going  around in circles. 

“What, Sam?” You growled in the phone that wouldn’t stop ringing on the seat next to you. It had been ringing almost non-stop for the past thirty minutes, and you didn’t know how to tell him that you still hadn’t found his brother, and  were pretty sure you were never going to find him. 

“Y/N, listen, I just got some video footage from a convenience store about 30 minutes north of where you are right now. Dean was seen there.He beat a man to death with a skin mag. Can you check the local bars and strip clubs, see if you can find him?”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, thankful that Sam was unable to see it. This was a first. Dean in his demon form, decided to beat the poor ass hole to death with a fucking porn magazine. He had a knife that was very capable to do the job for him, but this just proved there may be more of the old Dean still in here than you wanted to admit out loud. It took all the self control you had left in you not to burst into hysterical laughter, or ask Sam to send you the footage so you can laugh, and not be judged for it later. 

“I’ll check it out Sam, but I’m starting to think we’re not going to see Dean again in person unless he wants to be found.” 

The resounding silence on the other end was hard to read. You couldn’t tell if you were actually getting through to him with reason alone, or if he was just as done  as you were looking for Dean. 

“Just… Just try, okay?” Sam pleaded, and you could literally hear the fucking puppy dog eyes in his voice through the phone, damn him. 

“Okay, there’s a bar about five miles from me. I’ll start there and If I find anything I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks Y/N, I really couldn’t do this without you,” he says, letting go the breath he was obviously holding. 

“Yeah, and don’t you forget it Winchester,” you tell him before hanging up on him. He’d said enough for tonight, and a few strip joints and bars were all you were willing to do before finding a place to crash for a while. Dean may be a demon, but you were still human and needed at least another four hours before continuing this wild goose chase. 

You couldn’t deny as you pulled up in front of the old dive bar, that it was just the kind of place the Dean you know would have chosen to hang out in. You could hear the crappy country music blaring even outside in the parking lot, and there were plenty of blondes walking around in cut off shorts to choses from, adding a nice Backwoods appeal to the place that would have drawn the elder Winchester in like flies to horseshit. 

Human Dean was predictable, and you missed that. The only question that remained  was just how much of the man was still inside the  monster. 

As soon as your boots hit the gravel outside your car, a cold chill shot down your spine, throwing your hunter instincts into high gear. You didn’t haven’t even have time to grab your angel blade before your body was pinned to the outside of your Mustang with enough force to knock the wind out of you. The smell of sulfur assaulted your senses, and a scent you knew all too well… Dean.

You could feel the cold steal of the first blade pressing into the thin fabric of your flannel, and you shivered involuntarily at the hot breath that smelled of  beer, sulfur, and spearmint gum fanning over your face, Dean’s strong calloused hand had a tight grip around your throat, while the other held your hands behind your back as if you were nothing more than a blowup doll. No form of shaking, kicking, or moving at all seemed to be able to break his inhuman hold. 

“You know sweetheart, you and my little brother are getting on my last fucking nerve. I told you both to let me go, and what do you do? You chase me across the country like a fucking bitch in heat, all at the request of Sammy.” 

You swallow around the lump that was in your throat as best you could with Dean’s hand holding your neck, tight enough to leave a bruise. You knew he’d been leaving a trail for you, you weren’t an idiot, but you didn’t expect him to be so… well, Dean. You expected a stupid demon, like the hundreds you’d sent back to hell before him. Boy, were you wrong. 

“Then why don’t you just fucking kill me, Dean?” You asked him, knowing that if he wanted you dead you’d already would be, especially if he knew you were tailing him. “If I’m that much of a fucking pest, why didn’t you just handle it three states back?”

An inhuman growl sounded close to your ear, and you felt his solid chest vibrate on your back, his hand tighten around your neck, cutting off most of your air supply. 

You could feel your body responding to his administration, even though you knew it was wrong. The sheer, raw power that seemed to be pouring from his grip on your hand had slick gathering in your underwear and there wasn’t shit you could do about it. 

“Why should I do you that favor hun, Y/N, when you and I could have so much fun together.” 

Dean’s hot breath fanned over the shell of your ear, closely followed by his teeth, sending a shiver of disgust down your spine, and to your horror, more arousal pooling between your legs. 

“Fuck off, Dean,” you gritted back at him, determined to fight against this senseless attraction to the very thing you were trained to hunt and kill from birth. 

This is wrong, this is wrong…

No matter how much you repeated it to yourself, the fast growing bulge in Dean’s jeans against your ass had your cunt squeezing around nothing, begging the fucking demon to fill you up, stretch you in a way you’d only fantasised  about. Knowing the human Dean was packing, and a god of man that seemed to drip sex on bowed legs? What woman with a pulse wouldn’t think about it? 

“See, your lips are saying fuck off, but that little pussy of yours? Well, it’s saying come to Daddy.” 

Dean’s hot tongue licked from the shell of your ear to your jawline, and you had to bite down hard on your lip to stifle the moan that was right on the edge of your lips. His hand that had been holding your throat slipped down your body, unbuttoning your jeans and slipping into your panties with ease, wasting no time in slipping two thick digits into your soaking folds, toying with your entrance. 

A deep chuckle ripped through his throat when he felt just how wet you were, and damn it if his fingers didn’t already have you on the edge of oblivion as they slipped into your cunt, pumping and curling slowly. You fought against the overwhelming urge to grind down against his hand to get the friction you needed from him.

This is wrong, this is wrong…

“Look at you,” the demon said, grinding his full denim covered erection against your ass as he continued to fuck you with his fingers, hitting your G-spot with terrifying precision. “So fucking wet and needy. How many times have imagined these dirty little fingers of yours were mine, baby? How many times have you cum moaning my name, like your doing right now? Better keep it down or you're going to get us caught, and you won't get to cum.”

You hadn’t realized all the noise you’d been making until he’d pointed it out, but here you were, all but saying his name like a prayer as your legs began to shake, the coil in your stomach winding painfully tight. 

“Dean, please,” you begged him, unsure if you wanted him to stop, because you knew this was so fucking wrong. You didn’t fuck demons, this wasn’t you, but be  fucked if it didn’t feel so fucking good. Dean was playing your body like a fiddle, and you were helplessly grinding down on his hands as he increased the speed of his fingers. 

“Please what, Y/N?” he said, chuckling as you did all you could not to fall over the edge he had you teetering on. “It’s all you sweetheart, all you gotta do is let go.” 

You shook your head no as he laughed again, sinking his teeth into your pulse point  hard enough to make you almost cum right there, but you refused to do it, you just couldn’t do it.

This is wrong, this is WRONG!

“You know what your problem is Y/N? You are always SO FUCKING TENSE! All the fucking time. You walk around like you got this big stick up your ass, and a chip on your shoulder. I did the same for a long fucking time, but you know what baby girl, I’m gonna do you a favor. I’m gonna teach you the art of letting go, and we’re gonna start right here in this parking lot. Now, cum.” 

Dean added his thumb against your throbbing clit, and as if on command from some invisible force, you came hard enough to blur your vision. The coil in your stomach snapped as your pussy clenched around his thick digits, your juices running down his hand and soaking your panties further. He worked you through your release until your body fell lax against the car, and your breath came out in short pants as you tried to stand on shaking legs. 

“Hope you're not too tired yet bitch, that was just lesson one.” Dean said, turning you around to meet cole black eyes, and a smirk carved by the devil himself. 

You knew this was wrong, but there wasn’t a chance in hell you were going to get away from him now, so you might as well sit back and learn how to let go and enjoy the ride.

Forever Tags: @deanwanddamons @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @lyss-dw79 @magssteenkamp @lemondropirwin @squirrelnotsam @hobby27 @spnbaby-67 @mrsjenniferwinchester @defenderrosetyler @screechingartisancashbailiff @thecreatiivecorner  @aflamboyanceofgays @vicmc624 @busy-bee-angel-misska @justanotherwinchester @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @idksupernatural​ @lyarr24 @amandamdiehl​ @love-jackles-37-blog​ @miraclesoflove​ @Waywardsistershy @emoryhemsworth​ @dean-winchesters-gardian-angel @softsebastian @tatted-trina6 @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @hayleeharling​   @flamencodiva​ @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ @bxbyizzy @dirty-pan-goblin​ @itmejado​ @supernatural3002​ @teresa-67​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @hearteyes-j2​ @miss-nerd95​

[aizawaskittenwhore]

𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐮𝐭

pairing: cartel!shota aizawa x fem!reader

words: 2.4k

warnings: swearing, this will be a cartel!au, so mentions of c*ke and distribution...yeah lol, suggestive content towards the end of the chapter (vague description of a bj), angst, cheating, aizawa just ain’t shit in this story LMFAOOO

a/n: this is the third fucking time i’ve tried to post this so if it doesn’t work i’m gonna cry. but I AM SO EXCITED FOR THIS ONE and i can’t wait for you all to see what i’ve got planned. so uh...strap yourselves in it’s about to get crazy. sorry ms joke </3

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞: 𝐂𝐨𝐜𝐚’ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬

The salty, warm breeze from the ocean whipped its way through Shota’s onyx locks, tossing them around with a gentle force. Miami was gorgeous from the water, skyscrapers alight with the buzzing energy of the city, streets crawling with good food and even better looking women. Gorgeous full lips wrapped around martini glasses, criminally short dresses clinging to any skin it was given. He didn’t care much for the nightlife, opting to observe the partygoers from a distance.

He wasn’t here to socialize.

He was here to work.

His wrists draped over the edge of the rail that separated him and the water, a small portion of his weight against the cool metal. When Hizashi suggested that he get a yacht he nearly spat out his whiskey, face contorted in an expression of annoyance and disdain. Shota didn’t understand why someone would need such a flashy boat, it was merely a watercraft meant for travel and or fishing. This wasn’t the 1400’s where one’s worth was tied to the size of a man’s ship. Just another glorified pissing contest for rich people with too much money, and not enough couple’s therapy in the world that could keep them home for days at a time.

It’s not as if he was in any position to judge though, his pinky coming to rest just below the silver band that rarely inhabited his ring finger these days. He doesn’t entirely know what possessed him to wear it, whether it be the ever-crushing guilt from lying to his wife, or the text he’d received from Emi this morning that read:

“Make sure to bring me back a mojito! Don’t work yourself too hard, and remember how much I love you!💕”

If only she knew that these tri-monthly “Inter-Departmental Hero Conferences” were just fronts for selling a literal boat-load of cocaine.

Turns out, yachts were really good for that.

In the span of just five years, superhuman society was nearing it’s peak. Upon the graduation of all the students in the 1-A Hero Course, and Izuku Midoriya’s induction as the new Symbol of Peace; the world began to see an astronomical shift. Crime rates were the lowest they’d ever been, with Japan and the States sitting at 2 and 4.5 percent, respectively. Newly minted Pro Heroes roamed the streets, bringing security to those who needed it and striking fear into the hearts of those who were on the wrong side of the law.

But this utopia came at a price. With the sudden influx of fresh and talented pros, crime decreased exponentially, leaving little villain-based work for Heroes to get paid for. Hostage situations and evacuation efforts took backseat to helping older women across the street and assisting young children with their schoolwork. Soon enough, peace became a burden for those whose careers surrounded chaos.

Aizawa was no exception to this dilemma. Once Midoriya and his classmates graduated and obtained their Hero Licenses, he’d ended his tenure as an instructor at UA. He felt that he’d done his civic duty as a teacher and a Pro, and produced some of the finest Heroes the world would come to see. So he began to settle down. Surprisingly, he’d begun to tolerate Joke’s incessant laughter and boisterous personality, and soon fell in love with the eccentric woman. Between patrols and giving advice to aspiring Heroes at the community center, he and Emi explored all the the world had to offer; swapping out steel-toed combat boots for soft plush flip flops against hot sand. After three years he’d proposed, much to Emi’s delight (and Ashido’s upon hearing that Mr. Aizawa could actually tolerate another human being). The ceremony was small, and intimate. Shinsou serving as the ring bearer, and Eri as the flower girl. Mic even shed a few tears during the toast, though he’ll deny it if Kayama ever brings it up.

For a while, things were good. Life was good. Emi was glowing with the energy of a new life blossoming inside her, and Shota fantasized about meeting his little girl, counting all of her dainty fingers and toes, and doting on her for all to see.

Or at least it was, before agencies began to close. Paychecks got smaller and smaller. Heroes were struggling to find work and their pockets began to struggle along with them. With Emi on maternity leave, and Hero society coming to a standstill, things were looking grim. He needed to provide for his family, his wife, his children.

He needed a plan, and fast.

Luckily, Hizashi always did have good standing with everyone’s favorite Bird Boy. So he called in a few favors.

“Just for a couple months man! We stir up a little bit of noise, make a couple ripples and bam! Crime rate’s back up, and we get back to makin’ money. It’s temporary. Nobody will ever know, I’ll make sure of it. I got you.” Hizashi pleaded, an arm slung across Aizawa’s shoulders as he pensively gazed into his glass of amber liquid. He’d done some vigilante work here and there in his twenties but this....this was outright criminal. But what choice did he have?

Just a few months, he’d said. If only it’d worked out that way.

“I was getting worried you wouldn’t show, Eraser!” Zhu thundered, hands clapping joyously at the other man’s timeliness. “That’s some boat you got there, let me guess...the wife’s idea?” He queried, eyebrows waggling emphatically as Aizawa descended from the metal ladder and onto the wooden pier; eyes rolling into the back of his head at Zhu’s...excitable personality. The two had known each other for about two years or so, having gotten acquainted over the course of Shota’s many trips between Japan and the States, and sometimes South America. Zhu Kanaka was a man of the lower ranks, opting to use his easygoing disposition to negotiate deals for Takami “Lord of The Skies” Keigo, better known as Hawks. Standing at a solid 6 foot 4, with thick black locks that spiked into a point reminiscent of an onion, thick bushy brows and a set jaw, you’d think he wouldn’t hesitate to punt anyone like a football.

At least until he opened his mouth.

“As it turns out, Emi hates the damn thing. Makes her seasick. Hizashi talked me into getting the fuckin’ eyesore.” He intoned. His left hand palmed his slacks for the emergency pack of cigarettes he kept in his back pocket for when he was stressed during a deal, although he never really needed them anymore after Eri said she wanted him to quit. He still held on to them though, just in case. “The hell you waiting for? You know the deal man. Let’s see it.” He muttered, silently willing for Zhu to get on with it so he could get in a bed. Three and a half hours on a goddamned boat (that you didn’t even want to begin with) will do that to you.

“Someone looks like he needs a nap. Alright, I got ya. Count it, make sure it’s all there. I had Thing 1 and Thing 2 back there pack it, so you might wanna double check.” Zhu quipped, jerking a thumb towards the two young men currently engaged in a heated game of Rock, Paper, Scissors; the pair of them flushing upon receiving one of Aizawa’s infamous stares. Two thick black duffles were handed to his two bodyguards, the men immediately unzipping and checking the stacks, a mental tally steadily climbing higher and higher as they sifted through the cash.

“He’s good. Four hundred thousand in each bag. It’s all there, Eraser.” Sato affirmed, Toru nodding alongside the man. “Good. Go ahead and call Jamie, tell him to bring the car around. Zhu, I’ll send Sato and Toru to help your men unload our shipment. It’s a hefty one, so you’ll need the assistance.” Shota offered, shoulders visibly relaxing at the thought of getting some alone time in an empty hotel room.

“Yeah that’d be great, thanks! How long you in town for?”

“Until about 3pm tomorrow. I’ll be on my flight back to Kyushu then.” He states, right arm extending to clasp the other man’s hand in a firm grip. “You’re goin to that meeting the Big Man’s holding in a few days right?” Zhu queries. “Unfortunately, yes. Gonna miss my little girl’s first doctor’s appointment for this shit.”

“No way! She had the baby?!?!? Congratulations man! How’s it feel?” Zhu exclaims, eyes alight with joy for his friend’s new addition to the family. “Feels good. She had a smooth pregnancy, everything worked out fine. Hana’s beautiful, and healthy. I couldn’t be more proud.” Shota brags slightly, heart swelling at the thought of his little girl and how proud he was to know he’d helped in making someone so...ethereal. “Wow. Raising another kid, you flying out all the damn time, along with whatever else you got goin on?? No wonder you look like shit.”

Red eyes and floating hair caused Zhu to immediately retract his former statement.

“Aw I’m just joshin’ Eraser! But I hear ya. It’s a lotta’ sacrifices that go into this, but they’re who we do it for. All of it. Ya know?” Zhu amends, eyes shimmering with the reflection of the city lights off of the water.

Did he even know who... or what he was doing this for anymore?

Shota found himself asking that question more and more often as of late.

“...Right.”

“Anyway, you’re probably spent, so I’ll leave you to it. It was good seeing you man, send Emi my love!” Zhu shouted as he slowly walked towards the men unloading his boat. “Likewise. Tell Macie and the kids I said hello.” Aizawa responded dryly, body screaming for some kind of relief from this exhaustion.

“Will do! Oh, by the way! You might wanna bring some cooler clothes and sunscreen with your pale ass, I hear Guadalajara’s pretty sunny around this time of year! See you in a few days man!” The male laughed, throwing him a wave as he slowly disappeared into the darkness of the port. Massaging the bridge of his nose in irritation, Aizawa nodded in acknowledgement as Jamie pulled up alongside him; his hand reaching for the handle and dragging his siphoned body into the backseat.

Jamie could sense his employer’s weary expression, and didn’t make any attempts at conversation, merely opting to start making his way to the hotel while smooth jazz floated through the car. Forehead against the door of the towncar, Shota typed out a quick message to his wife:

“Alcohol is the last thing you need sweetheart, and I love you too. Got another meeting in a few days, mandatory. I’ll in be in Mexico, so I’ll miss Hana’s appointment. I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to the two of you.”

Sent.

The message sat for a few seconds before Emi read and typed out a response:

“Aw, bummer! </3 Dont worry, work is much more important right now. I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures!”

“You don’t have to make it up to us, you caring is enough. Get some sleep old man, me and the girls love you. xoxo, Wifey 😘 ”

He didn’t deserve her.

He didn’t deserve any of them.

This he knew. And yet, it didn’t stop him from responding to the unknown number that texted his phone every time he happened to be in town.

“Same time and place? Desperately in the mood to play....My toys just aren’t as good as yours, Eraser. ;)”

His heart sank. A beat passes. Then two.

Calloused thumbs move fluidly across the screen. He’s done this far too many times.

“Be there in 10. You know the routine.”

And in retrospect...he would’ve been way better off just blowing off Guadalajara and going to Hana’s appointment.

Because while he wrapped her slick ponytail around his hand, as a head that wasn’t his wife’s dipped between his legs, he didn’t think this would be his last moment of peace. Shoved down the throat of a woman who’s name he had long forgotten, settling for calling her whatever pet name he felt like adorning her with, her hands clawing at the soft and sleek cotton of his trousers.

Aizawa never anticipated that this would be the last time he would be in a room without immediate reinforcements, and be content.

The last time someone he didn’t trust with his life knew his location, and he wasn’t terrified.

The last moments of peace in his world before it all went to hell.

Temecula, California;

1:36am

The office floor was barren. Dark, coffee stained carpet congealed with the bacteria of old and new; giving it a sad beige color from the creamy foam-like white it was when the building was built. Cubicles cluttered with miscellaneous paperwork from separate departments, all of it raining down from desk to desk like a fresh layer of snow on the first day of winter. Tired, weary hands typed at a computer with precision and accuracy, the warm glow from the screen illuminating the buttons on her blouse as she plowed through each document. Her body raged for a moment of rest, but she couldn’t give in. Not when so much was at stake, not when so much needed to be done in so little time.

After a few minutes, and approximately twelve sips of bittersweet lukewarm coffee, the fingers came to a halt. A sigh of relief was freed from her body as she pushed the enter button on the dusty, tan keyboard and began to pack up for the night. Since the computers were set on an activity timer, there was no need for her to physically shut it down. After 30 seconds of no visible movement, the screen flashed a message declaring that the activity would be suspended within the next 2 minutes if no motion was detected. Content with her work, she slung her work bag over her shoulder, and trudged towards the elevator, mentally clocking out for the night.

As the elevator slowly carried its passenger down, the computer continued its countdown before discontinuing its power, leaving the following words for nobody but its future recipient to read:

Drug Enforcement Agency Operative Travel Request:

Agent: L/N, F/N

Current Operation: Potential formation of a rising cartel under the leadership and or affiliation of Pro Heroes Hawks, Endeavor, and Eraserhead. Agent has been undercover for eight months and twenty-seven days.

Investigation Status: Active

Location of Travel: Guadalajara, Mexico

Reason for Request: Possible gathering of multiple Hero-Run plazas to discuss further movement. Will gather more intel and gain trust of suspects involved/acquire more resources for investigation.

Travel Request Status: Accepted.

[cutegirlmayra]

*Slurps on ice coffee* ey yo Mayra what's cracking? I need some good ole fashioned protective Sonic of Amy I̶'̶m̶ ̶b̶a̶s̶i̶c̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶l̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶i̶t̶ . Maybe something like the press or newspaper attack Amy's character which upset her and Sonic defends or tries to comfort her? That'd be great thanks *Puts on shades and skateboards away*

What up, homie? How’s the skate? Don’t get home to late, my man, you know how these streets be at night. OUR TOWN. That’s what’s up! -slaps hand into yours and does a bro-hold-

You can see my response and thinking for this on the Pajama Blogs! (x) Timecode: 28:12

Referencing my fanfiction: Trying to ‘Tap’ into Love

PROMPT REQUESTS ARE ON SHUTDOWN, DO NOT SEND ANY TO ME, please and thank you ;3c

Prompt:

It was a pretty late night. I hadn’t seen Amy so upset before.

Usually, in the past, it wasn’t uncommon for Amy to come rushing to me--arms flung out and moving like a speed train with tears that sprawled into sparkling stars against the sky.

I always, usually, kinda-sorta, caught her and just let her cry it out with an awkward smile to my face.

But this time... Amy wanted to be alone.

That was weird. I first heard about it from Tails, who said that she had been reading some articles about the team and how they’ve said some pretty critiquing things about her... I’ve never really dealt with anything like that.

Joking, completely, I’ve totally had my fair share. But what about Amy? I always figured... well, she came off as pretty independently confident all on her own. I didn’t think she cared that much about what everyone thought of her.

So I was a bit concerned by Tails’s words, but I thought nothing of it. Waved it off as a momentary sadness for her, after all, this was Amy! She could bounce back from anything.

If it was really serious, I figured she would have come charging after me like before.

The stars weren’t here tonight... odd.

Sorry, where was I? Oh, yeah. The second time I heard anything a little more alarming was from Knuckles. Apparently, Amy had come to seek some solace from the unconditionally loving Chao--now this had been a solid day and half since I’ve heard about the incident of her wanting to be alone after reading some bad commentary on her--and she would shake the chao away from clinging to her.

He said he didn’t get it, cause she used to love to cuddle them and they all were really hurt by her wanting to keep her distance and just pat their heads.

Now, if anything were to set me and Knuckles off, it was that.

His face was so strained as he talked to me about it, I’ve never seen Knuckles trying to hold back so much worry and anger before. He said he tried to go over and give her a piece of his mind, but when she turned around, her eyes were vacant of anything but tears.

“It looked like she thought she had done something wrong before she even did it.” He stated, “I didn’t have the heart to continue yelling at her, so I just shooed her away, telling her to pick on someone else if she was feeling that crummy.”

“Harsh, Knuckles. Harsh.” I joked, but there was a low-key truth to what I said. “Tails said something about harsh comments on some articles she likes to read about us.” The old alter of the Master Emerald’s shrine was as stony and gravely as ever. The little pieces of chipped pebbles always grinded and dug themselves under my fur and into my skin every time I sat there, but Knuckles acted like nothing ever phased his tough skin.

I was acting kinda tough, too... to be real honest with you.

Knuckles huffed, grumbling as he picked up some berry juice he had squashed into a half-coconut  bowl and passed one over to me. “Doesn’t excuse telling a kid they can’t hold ya.” He was right... but then again...

“Maybe she just didn’t want the sympathy.” It was hard to look at it from a girl’s point of view, I didn’t quite understand what would tip her over the edge like that. Maybe they said she wasn’t pretty enough..? Ehh..?

“Girls really care about how others view them, you know?” I took a sip. It did in fact taste good, and I leaned back to let the slight acidy feel tingle against my throat as its favorable burst went down the ol’pipe. “Ahh~ That’s the spot!”

“...I don’t think you should be acting so carefree about this, Sonic.”

His sudden tone made me stop enjoying the berry sensation and look back to him, a little surprised but not by much. Knuckles always chose the direct route in any conversation, it’s what made him so easy and frustrating to talk to.

I smiled and closed my eyes, putting a foot down a step to stretch it out and sighed.

“...Yeah. I know.”

“If you know, then why don’t you do something about it!?” Knuckles, always ready to pull his voice out and speak up when he sees something he doesn’t like. “The very fact that she’s a girl means you should do somethin’ about it! Girls aren’t meant to mope about, they gotta be treated decently! Ain’t that half your job?!” ...Still, it made me like him like that. He was a good guy, and had the real makings of a hero--at least, to my standards--and a good friend at that!

“Half, huh?” I took another sip. Did everyone think me and Amy were something more..? After all these years, I hadn’t the slightest clue. Seems everyone else held a standard in their mind about it though...

“I’m serious! Aren’t you planning to do something about it?”

“Am I?” I smirked, not liking to be asked direct questions about myself. I took the coconut drink down and set it to the side, getting up and stretching my arm out in a few simple gestures. Spreading it across my chest and pulling it with my other hand, then twisting my torso right and down as I put the other arm back and used the one I’d momentarily stretched to reach sky high with it. “Boy, that feels good!”

“Grr... Sonic... if you’re making fun of this, I’ll-!” Before getting Knuckles too wound up, seeing him lift his fists again, I flicked myself in my usual--Sonic Charm~

I winked and wiggled my pointer finger, turning one leg to be slightly bent as I was about to speed off anyway.

I had heard what I wanted too, now time to do some more digging before investigating it right at it’s source.

“Don’t worry so much, Knuckles! Like I’d ever leave Amy to her own assumptions.” I still wasn’t sure what she was struggling with... but wanting to be alone and not have anyone clinging to her in affection?

Didn’t sound like Amy Rose to me.

While heading to dart off the island, I stopped by the chao and asked them what their story was.

Squatting down, I think I mustered up enough of my expertise in games to figure out their charaded play. It seems the chao could tell something was off from Amy’s usual, cheery nature. To try and help, they tried to swarm her as she usually did with endless hugs, but she delicately plucked each one off at a time and set them back down.

All she wanted was to sit, looking sadly between her arms and legs--I’m guessing the chao were trying to do the fetal upright position but their budgy bodies just can’t do it.--and pat their heads.

It made them uncomfortable to not be able to love on her, I assumed, and they continued to show me great concern as they held my arms in different places and showed me their adorable eyes.

“I get it, don’t worry, Amy’s gonna be just fine.” I smiled the best I could, but hearing... well, seeing their side of the story really... heh, opened my eyes?

Puns. Always a defense mechanism when you don’t intend to use them that way.

Something had me wanting to wait before I saw Amy again, though. Usually, that wasn’t like me, but I wanted a bigger picture.

I sped over to Cream’s and Vanilla’s, where I thought more insight might be had.

Tails had already called them, doing his own work to try and collect the pieces before directly asking Amy. We all knew Amy could be a bit... Nah, I won’t say it. But we wanted a better idea before we approached her about it.

Just safer that way...

I rubbed my head, remembering how easily one could fall into that hammer’s swing if they didn’t word things a bit more carefully, as Cream and Vanilla recounted Amy’s strange melancholy behavior, and how she wanted to seem less-

“Feminine?” That threw me for a loop, and trust me, I’ve had my fair share of running through loops.

“Well, not quite.” Vanilla was sitting on her lovely coach with Cream and Cheese sitting adjacent but slightly on her lap. She looked down at Cream who held her chin up a moment, wanting to be polite as she addressed me.

I did my best to hold a steady and kind eye-contact, but I could tell she was struggling to admit what she heard and saw.

“Miss Amy kept asking me strange questions. Like... Was she too much on something. I didn’t understand and she kept insisting I shouldn’t coddle her or lie to her. I didn’t know how to take that... I would never lie to Miss Amy! I just... didn’t understand what she wanted from me.”

It pained me to see that Amy had hurt someone from her own insecurities.

That was everything Amy stood against, and that’s when I knew this was getting out of hand.

I had let her be for a day just to see if she would either work it out on her own or come crying to me... but she hadn’t done either.

She was now hurting those close to her... and so it was time to intervene.

“Thank you for telling me that, Cream.” I purposefully spoke as tenderly as I could, “I’m sure that was hard for you. I’m very grateful you told me what happened.”

She buried herself into her mother’s chest, still hurt, and that drove a powerful fire through me.

That does it, Amy.

You don’t hurt people when you’re injured.

You come to someone stronger to help heal you if you can’t do it yourself.

At the time, I was really upset. Amy must have been polarized by the media.

They call her too traditional? Is that why she wanted to be more ‘tough’ like? Too protected? Too appeased?

Feminine... did she feel like a damsel in distress instead of our trusted friend?

I was trying to keep my head leveled, but I ended up closing my eyes during my run and letting the night’s air beat against me to try and cool myself off before finding her.

She wasn’t home, I checked the windows. No lights.

Unless she was sitting the dark, Amy always had a reading light on. She only turned every light off in her house when she was going to bed, so she could see the stars and feel like we were watching them together, no matter if we were far apart or not.

I looked to see she hadn’t any dirty dishes in the sink, and while peeking through the window, I noticed her drapes were down as well. That means she hadn’t been cooking or baking, and that she hadn’t opened the windows and pulled the drapes to let the smells carry, hoping I’d catch wind of it and invite myself in for a dinner with her.

I sped over to the city, thinking maybe she went on one of those ‘journey walks’ where she just window shops but ends up buying too many bags and waiting for me to bolt by and help her with them. She liked to think and experience things outside the home too... but I didn’t see her struggling with shopping bags anywhere.

She wasn’t watching Twinkle Park’s lights from her favorite outdoor restaurant, or purposefully losing her hat in hope’s I’d somehow see it and return it to her. She wasn’t sitting on her favorite spot with her favorite outdoor umbrella with her typical strawberry and vanilla shake and pretending she was too cold to finish it, bundling up and hoping I’d make a move and pull her closer or something.

She wasn’t in the fields where she’d pick flowers with Cream, or stare up at the clouds and reminisce about old times and stories we used to tell each other, or have her head on a bed of flowers so butterflies would come and sit on her still face as she dreamed of a future with me in it. Waiting for me to zip by and have the butterflies spread out and fly through my backdraft as the air around where I just blazed through would slowly return to a even, equilibrium.

She wasn’t anywhere I usually found her at.

I came up to my last spot I could think of. Why was this so hard? Amy could find me in a heartbeat... which... I couldn’t quite feel right now because it was fluttering dangerously like my shaky breaths.

I kept a strong look on my face, simply because I was worried my fear at not finding her would leak through and make her feel bad about being too well hidden.

I didn’t want her to feel bad... I didn’t want her to be alone for this long.

It had been the dark of the second day... I just wanted to see her. Make sure she was okay...

That anger that once fueled me was now popping in sparks of concern that made me walk around the rolling hills of Green Hill zone.

If she wasn’t here... looking for me... then I truly didn’t know where she was.

Eggman... would have been my next guess.

That, or Amy was replaced by a robot of his and was terrorizing the living daylights out of her friends!

... It was concerning. I wouldn’t worry. I couldn’t worry... Amy wasn’t a little girl anymore and hateful, spiting comments were to be expected when you live in the spotlight.

But I was just wanting to know where she was... how she was... It was starting to drive me crazy.

“Where are you... Amy?” I looked up to the sky, blank and black, and I didn’t like the omen it sent me. Like chills down my fur, the wind finally got to me. I felt the cold... empty world for the first time... realizing Amy was out in it without me.

Was she without her coat? Was she silently re-reading those awful articles?

‘Amy... Amy... Hear me... You’re not alone.’ My thoughts channeled through to my feet and I kept searching, darting here to there, scouting out east and west, north to south was like zig-zagging till every blade swayed left and right to make sure she wasn’t hiding somewhere in it’s darkened shade...

A crescent moon... not a full one. She liked the full moon.

‘Amy...’

As I ran through a rather flattened terrain of another zone, I watched to the side of me how the treelined slimmed down and the edge of the world rose up on a hill... that soon became a mountain.

Blocking my view... of any light the night could have brought to her.

She only liked the dark when she was about to sleep... it’d be too dark to really see her way home, soon.

I had confidence she knew her way home, that the world wasn’t that dangerous... but I wondered if her mind could be.

‘Amy...’ I bit down my teeth, charging forward in a streak of blue.

“AMMMMYYY!!!!”

----

As though hearing something in the distance, I raised my head and looked back over my shoulder.

Something kept telling me Sonic was looking for me... but I wondered if that was true this time.

I turned my solemn head with a sigh back to the last shred of light from the fading sun... I felt like... if I got any closer, I would feel it’s warmth envelop me completely... and I’d disappear from this world.

All these awful words in my head would cease, all this terrible feeling of not being enough, or too much, or just dull and unwanted... I wanted it all to go away.

I had cried and thought so much, self-reflected to the point of not even knowing where I was or how far I had traveled off too.

Tails said I was acting too sensitive to words that random people that didn’t even know me had said. Knuckles yelled at me when I tried to change my behavior so I wasn’t what those people had written about. Cream even got tongue-tied trying to voice her own thoughts about me... and ended up just saying something to ‘feed my ego’ as they put it.

No... Cream wouldn’t do that. Tails wouldn’t try and be so dismissive of me like they said they all are. Knuckles... Okay, Knuckles is loud and yells a lot, but he meant well..!

She groaned and let herself flop back to lay against the cold grass, still holding her arms around herself as she was getting terribly cold in her heartache.

Knuckles just didn’t like how the chao were reacting to my new behavior... it’s understandable they would have been apprehensive to me trying to love them a little less directly... But practicing my new, refined self on them didn’t seem to have any good effects...

Maybe I’m overthinking... but I just want someone to tell me... I’m alright.

She put her arms over her eyes, refusing to look up at such a dark and ugly sky tonight.

“I just-” she sniffed, feeling the hot tears break through her already stained, sticky cheeks full of her earlier dried tears again. “I just want someone to tell me I’m perfect the way I am..!”

A sound arrowed itself into a bow along the plain of where Amy was, a sound that soared through her like a sonicboom that cracked through to her heart and made her sit up, looking as though with outrageous hope towards the last lowering light of the sun’s touch...

The grassy hill behind her seemed to have made a sound like something was moving quickly across it’s tundra... like something was refusing to let her sit in the quietness to let her thoughts overwhelm and consume her.

Her thoughts could hear someone calling her name...

“Sonic..?”

She lightly whispered his name out.

Then, as though pushing her lips back to not bother him, but wanting more than anything to jump into his arms-!

“SOOONIICCC!!!”

-----

He zoomed back to the sound, his eyes raising as though elated to finally get a trace of her.

And those tears that sparkled and lit up the entire night sky with stars...

And those arms that reached out for him, as though stretching on for eternity... a never-ending yearning he always accepted, granted a little half-heartedly, but never refused.

That scene was forever imprinted on him... and he wasn’t letting Amy leave his sights till she was her usual, teasingly flirty and emotionally unbreakable, spirited and youthful self again!

[mortedeveles]

Model For Me

HERE: PART TWO 

PART ONE.  PART THREE.  PART FOUR. PART FIVE. PART SIX. 

Summary: Y/N has always been a timid and awkward person and artist when it comes to social interactions and it only gets worse when she asks her crush and best friend, Katsuki Bakugou, to model for her.

And not just any type of modelling; Y/N needs to do a composition of a nude male body. Luckily for her, Katsuki's personality is anything but shy and he doesn't hesitate to undress in front of her. It's for art, he says. But something tells Y/N that the boy has hidden and devious intentions, intentions that she has to unravel and discover. 

Copyright © 2020-2021 by Veles.

Genre: fluff, humor, suggestive content (a wee bit of NSFW themes)

TW: cursing, sexual themes, nudity.

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x fem!artist!reader

________

QUIRK: LIQUIFY! Y/N can manipulate any type of liquid to her advantage and can also melt inanimate objects, but doesn't work on animals, plants, or people. And at night time she can make any type of liquid into a solid!  

_________

a/n: so here’s the second part!! we have 2-3 parts left! the first part wasn’t proofread when i published so i’m going to fix any grammar errors it may have </3. i’m a new fanfic writing blog, so please consider checking out my other works, followng me and leaving a like and/or reblogging!! i would really appreciate it! enjoy!

Today had been a good day so far. You hadn't encountered any problems up until now- your hero training had gone smoothly, you even managed to beat Uraraka in a match!-so hopefully, you could ask Katsuki the dreadful question and not die in the process.

Hopefully.

Once the final school bell rang, you could feel your soul leave your poor body. It was nearly time. Everyone began to pack up and head out of the classroom when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

''Y/N?'' Momo looked concerned. ''School is over. Are you still coming over today?''

Shit. You had totally forgotten about that. Mustering a smile, you shook your head.

''I'm sorry, Momo, I won't be able to go today. I have some art projects to do,'' 

She nodded in understanding and patted your shoulder.

''Very well. See you later, Y/N. Take care!'' 

You offered her a wave and a smile. Once she had left, you dropped the facade and groaned. There were still some of your classmates inside and thankfully, Bakugou was one of them. You could feel his eyes burn into your side. He had agreed to stay after school, but you refused to explain what you needed.

Once the classroom was nearly empty, you took a shaky breath as you slung your backpack over your shoulder, rising from your seat and leaned against the exit.

You stared at the floor while you waited for everyone to leave and once the classroom had gone silent, you raised your head. 

Katsuki was the only one left. He was scowling as usual as he approached you, hands stuffed in his pockets.  

''So, what did you want nerd?'' Katsuki grunted. 

You swallowed thickly as you played with your hands. God, how were you supposed to ask him to model for you? All your previous confidence and courage had slipped away in the blink of an eye. You should've written it down...

''Um, well, you see,'' you stammered and coughed awkwardly. Katsuki furrowed his eyebrows and you swallowed nervously. His patience ran thin with every second that you were wasting.

''Spit it out already,'' he growled. 

''Okay so, IwaswonderingifyoucouldmodelnudeformecauseIneedamalemodelpleasedon'tkillme,'' you spoke so fast that all your words glued together and Katsuki looked shocked.

He didn't reply and only stared at you with an expression you couldn't understand. Was he mad? Did he even understand what you had just said?

''Hah?!'' 

Uh oh. You felt embarrassment course through your body as you shook your head in denial. No, no! That came out so wrong!

''Oh god, I'm such an idiot,'' you breathed. ''I'm so sorry Katsuki, I'll stop wasting your time,'' 

What were you thinking?! you yelled at yourself, shaking your head as you began to walk away. While you muttered incoherent words and cursed at yourself, you hadn't noticed that Katsuki had regained his composure and wore a smug grin as he reached out for your arm.

''You should really talk slower, shitty nerd. I barely understood what you said. Learn how to fucking speak, will you?'' he snapped, eyes blazing but there was a grin on his face, so you hoped that he wasn't as mad as he sounded. 

You froze when you felt Katsuki's warm and heavy hand wrap around your elbow. His grip was strong and firm but not to the point that it hurt.

Quickly, you turned around and nearly headbutted Katsuki. Luckily, he managed to dodge your head and snickered.

''Um, yeah okay...anyways, do you think you can do it?'' 

He sighed and nodded, releasing your elbow and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

''Tch. Okay, I'll do it.''

A few moments passed in silence until you realized he had agreed.

''Yes, oh my god, thank you so much Katsuki!'' you blabbered, jumping on the balls of your feet as a wide smile took over your face.

Katsuki snorted and watched you with mild amusement, his muscular arms crossed against his chest.

''I'm so glad you agreed, Katsuki! I was so afraid I was going to ask a random guy to model for me and that would've been so awkward-,'' you stopped and took a deep breath. Screaming and jumping around really did a number on you.

Once you had regained your breath, you met Katsuki's red eyes with a wide grin. He rolled his eyes and stepped forward, grabbing your chin with his fingers and tugging you forward.

''Woah! What are you doing?'' you stammered, feeling your heart beat so loud it was a surprise Katsuki didn't notice.

''Don't think I'm doing this for free. I'm only stripping because it's for art,'' he said with a scowl. ''And since I'm doing you a favor, you're going to have to do something for me,'' he grinned like a madman.

''What..what do you want..?'' your voice faltered. You felt your stomach twist and flip. Katsuki was so close to you...he smelled like a warm and rich campfire and toasted marshmallows...

His grin grew wider at your hesitance. You prayed that he didn’t notice how flustered you were.

''I'll tell you after the modeling,'' he stated, leaving no room for argument. You swallowed nervously and nodded.

''Okay, sure..''

''Tch. Whatever. Besides, the only guy you'll be seeing naked is me, so be glad I decided you help your ass out. Text me the details. Later, shitty nerd,'' he grumbled. You nodded vigorously and everything he had just said flew over your head. You waved him goodbye with a stupid smile on your face.

It wasn't until Katsuki left that you registered what he had just said. 

''Wait...'' you mumbled. 

''What the hell did that mean?!''

You could feel yourself getting flustered again. Damn him! It seemed that when he was around, all you could was act like a giddy idiot.

You two were close friends, but not the point where you were comfortable with physical intimacy. And since it was Katsuki Bakugou, you doubted he was cuddly towards anyone.

Whatever, you thought. I'll just ask Aneko what he meant.

                         ━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

You found yourself covering your tender ears as Aneko let out a shrill scream.

''Jeez,'' you complained. ''Are you a screaming banshee?''

Aneko frowned in response and swatted your head.

''Don't you get it? He likes you!'' she exclaimed. ''I've never been more sure about anything in my life! Trust me, I know what I'm talking about,'' she held her chin between her two fingers and had a thoughtful expression.

''I think he's the possessive type,'' she mused. ''Definitely. It's obvious from what he said. Not to mention that when he met me, he wanted to kill me for hugging you.''

You rolled your eyes but you could feel butterflies swarming in your stomach as a giddy smile escaped you.

''Maybe you're right,'' you said. ''I just hope nothing goes wrong..''

''Of course, I'm right,'' you could hear the smugness in Aneko's voice. ''When I have ever been wrong?''

You opened your mouth to protest, but Aneko shushed you and placed your phone into your hands. 

''You should text him already. When are you guys planning to meet?''

You shrugged.

''I don't know. It's better to do the art piece in one session so that I can capture the same lighting and shadows, but honestly, I don't think I can work for more than 3 hours straight. Besides, I don't think Katsuki would handle it,''

Aneko hummed in response. ''You're right.''

''Well, it's up to you. I have to leave, mama's making soba tonight,'' She pressed a quick kiss on your cheek before heading out of your room.

''Okay, tell your mom I said hi!'' you called after her.

''Will do!" Aneko's voice echoed from below.

Frowning, you stared at your phone. You wanted to finish the art project quickly, but you had no idea how to organize the sessions...

Hell, you had never done a live session with a nude model before, so you felt absolutely clueless. Most of your references were pictures you would find on the internet and art books.

After several attempts of typing and deleting, you decided on a final message.

Y/N: Hey Katsuki! Would you like to do the modeling in one session? It would be really long...like five to nine hours? Or would you rather do several short sessions?

Once you had pressed SEND, you stared at your phone for several minutes. No response.

Huffing, you threw your phone aside and laid down on your bed. Maybe he was just busy. Yeah, that was it, it wasn't like he was ignoring you.

You groaned and slapped your hands over your face. Why did you have to overthink everything?

When your phone vibrated, you jumped and quickly sat up. The phone vibrated again and you grabbed it.

Katsuki: I'll give you five sessions, three hours each. Take it or leave it, shitty nerd. We'll start tomorrow so text me your address. 

''I thought I was the artist,'' you grumbled. ''Why does he get to choose the sessions? I know he's the one modeling but it's not like he's the one doing the artwork...'' your voice trailed off as you finished reading the message and began to type a message.

Y/N: Sounds good to me! My address is xxx-xxx-xxx and do you think you could come around two o'clock? I'm free at that time.

Without another glance at your phone, you raced downstairs and headed straight to the dining room, where your mother was reading a book on the dinner table. 

''Hey mom,'' you leaned against a pillar. ''Can my friend come over at two o'clock tomorrow? He's going to help me with my art project,'' you smiled.

''Sure thing, hon. What's his name?'' She returned her gaze to her book, flipping through pages.

''Um..'' you debated whether to tell her Katsuki's name. She had seen the Sports Festival and boy, she did not like his murderous attitude. Maybe if you lied and used another name, she’d agree... But then again, she was your mother and would probably see Katsuki inside the house. The best thing to do was to come off clean. 

'’Bakugou Katsuki...'' you said meekly. Hopefully, she was so immersed in her book that she wouldn't pay attention to the name.

''Bakugou Katsuki?'' her sharp voice made you wince. ''The murderous boy from the Sports Festival? He's dangerous, Y/N! Why is he helping you?''

''Um...mom, he's kinda my classmate,'' you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. ''And he's friend, so don't worry about it. Once you get to know him, he's a very good person,''

Your mom sighed and clicked her tongue. ''I hope you're right about this. I have to attend something with your father tomorrow at one o'clock, so I won't be here,'' Phew, you thought. There wouldn't be any incidents and they wouldn't see a naked Katsuki in your room. 

''However,'' your mom said. ''I'm going to ask your friend Aneko to come over. She's a very polite and responsible girl, I know she'll keep you out of trouble.'' The urge to snort was so overwhelming you had to cover your mouth as you nodded in agreement.

Responsible and polite? That was the opposite of your friend Aneko. But you knew that Aneko was capable to turn into a charming exemplar student model when your parents were around.

''Yeah, sure mom. Thanks,'' you shot her a smile. She nodded in response and returned her attention to her book. You raced upstairs to your room and began to tidy your belongings. If Katsuki was coming over to your house, you needed a space where he could pose for hours. 

You pushed your desk, bed, and shelf against the walls, picking up everything from the floor and left a wide space in the middle of your room, in front of your wide windows. Since your family wasn’t rich, you couldn't afford an art studio. But you worked with what you had.

After an hour or two of tidying your room and fooling around, your phone's familiar ringtone blared. You picked up the phone and pressed it to your ear.

''What's up, Aneko?'' 

A loud shriek invaded your ears. Your lips formed a thin line and you pulled the phone away from your ear and kept it at a safe distance to ensure you wouldn't go deaf. Aneko was your friend and you knew she meant well, but she could be very vocal when she was excited. 

''Y/N L/N! My, my, I'm impressed. Your mom just texted me to ask me to come over your house and watch over you and your boyfriend Bakugou Katsuki! You sure are fast!''

You laughed softly as you sat down on the edge of your bed and swung your legs back and forward.

''He's not my boyfriend, Aneko,'' you reminded her. She huffed in response.

''It may not be official, but he's practically your boyfriend at this point. When you introduced him to me, he wanted to rip my head out for holding your hand and for hugging you! Not to mention that when you were cold and we were returning to your house, he slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around you so you wouldn't get cold anymore! And there's been so many other moments. The boy is rude and violent as hell, but I know he cares about you.'' Aneko's long speech left you speechless.

''Well...'' you laughed nervously. ''If you put it that way....''

''You just wait, Y/N. I know something is going to happen. You just sit tight and wait.''

A snort left your nose as you shook your head with amusement. ''I don't think so, Anne, but I'll hold your promise.''

''You wanna bet?''

You snickered loudly. ''Alright. I'm betting 500 yen that he won't ask me out,''

Aneko clicked her tongue in disapproval. ''Oh, Y/N, Y/N. Poor little oblivious you. I'm betting 800 yen and if I win you have to do whatever I say for a day!''

Oh damn. The bet was getting out of hand and you felt slightly nervous. Nevertheless, you kept your composure and smirked.

''Deal.''

                           ━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

It had been an hour since Aneko had arrived at your house and the two of you had tidied the house. Right now, you sat on your bed with Aneko's head in your lap.

''So, when is he coming?'' Aneko asked as she stuffed her face with cookies. You glanced at your phone and frowned. It was nearly two o'clock and Katsuki hadn't arrived yet.

''He should be here soon. I told him to be here at two o'clock.''

''Do you think he has a big dick?'' 

''Aneko!'' you scolded her. ''Don't say that! Why were you thinking about that?!'' 

She shrugged nonchalantly and met your flustered face with a devious grin.

''I just said what you were too shy to ask,'' 

Your eyes widened as you gasped and slapped Aneko's arm. She giggled and rolled on your bed, enjoying your embarrassment. Flustered, you tackled Aneko and held her down.

Despite your disapproval of her crude comments, the deed had been done. And now, you were in fact, thinking about Katsuki's dick.

''Son of a b-,'' you snarled and tackled Aneko. ''No, I wasn't! Stop being such a pervert!" you held her down while she simply cackled at your amusement. 

You were about to launch a series of hits onto Aneko, when you heard aggressive knocking at your door. Both of you flinched. 

''Speak of the devil and he shall appear,'' Aneko said and smirked. 

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. It's gonna be okay, you told yourself. Calm down. You could hear Aneko squeal as you repeated the words in your mind.

She sent you thumbs up and urged you to go downstairs. Aneko was grinning like a maniac.

Another loud knock snapped you out of your thoughts. You raced down your staircase and peeked through the windows. Katsuki stood in front of the door, arms crossed, sporting his usual scowl. You unlocked the door and exhaled loudly.

Here goes nothing. 

tag list: @deneuves​

DM me if you want to be in my tag list for this short series! i have a question for y’all, do you like how i write bakuhoe? i’m trying my best to keep him in character. 

Copyright © 2020-2021 by Veles. Do not repost, plagiarize, or read my fanfiction without my permission.

[ichigo-daifuku]

Mammoney

Obey Me! Fanfiction [Read on AO3]

Mammon/Female!MC

After a series of incredible material and financial opportunities going in her favor, she finds herself questioning the root of her luck and what she did to deserve them all.

In the most ludicrous way possible, she is reminded that where money is involved, the Avatar of Greed is.

Explicit | Light D/S & Femdom, Mild Exhibitionism, Edging

Hello! This is my first Obey Me fanfic. It's a friends to lovers story with a mix of fluff and eventual smut. Enjoy♪〜

Word Count: ~10.7k

It began with a Grimm; a single coin that had gone unnoticed on the corridor.

The eternal darkness that enveloped the Devildom was one of its characteristics that caught her off guard when she arrived in this realm. She grew up to sunny mornings which was an impossibility here, but though the light was absent, the place was alive in its unique way. Often, she stopped and stared at the otherworldly surroundings, but today, it was the furthest thing in her mind as her rapid footsteps echoed across the hallways of the academy, in a rush to make it in time for Devildom Law. It was a class she shared with Mammon. The two of them would usually arrive in class together, but right now, she ran alone. She had slept in, and after letting him copy her homework, yet again, Mammon didn’t even bother to wake her. Although her stomach rumbled due to skipping breakfast, she continued her ascent to the staircase without a pause, her legs threatening to give out, but her mind winning over her body as she kept going through sheer willpower. Humans were looked down enough in the world of demons. She wanted to prove to everyone that whatever the beings here were worthy of, humans were worthy of as well. With this mindset, she ran, and finally, she was on the floor where the class would be conducted.

Everything was going her way until she took a wrong step.

She felt it, a round object protruding on the plane of the floor, right under her sole. Her foot slipped back while her body lurched forward as she lost her balance. For a second, a comical scene of a character slipping on a banana peel in a cartoon flashed in her memory, and she fell face-first on the floor with a thud. The object she stepped on flew a distance away with resounding clinks. She groaned, shifting her body to a sitting position as she glanced around. No one was around to witness her clumsiness but the paintings on the walls, and she supposed that was one good thing she could be grateful for. She dusted her hands and was about to do the same to her uniform when the sound of her name being called made her head turn to the other direction.

A frantic Asmodeus rushed to her side. “Are you alright?”

“Hey, Asmo. I’m fine,” she reassured him and moved to stand.

Asmodeus bent down and outstretched his hand. “Here, let me help you up.” 

“Thanks.” She took him up on his offer and stood, letting go once she regained her balance. “Are you running late for class, too?”

“Something like that,” Asmodeus replied, a mysterious smile lighting up his face. It made her concerned about where his hand, which she had just touched, had been before this. “What happened to you?”

“Oh, that. I tripped over something.” She turned around and craned her head until the golden contrast against the monotone floors caught her attention. With her unsteady legs, she shuffled to its direction and bent down to pick it up. 

A Grimm.

How strange. She would have noticed—no, she should have. There was nothing on the floor, she swore, but there it was, the Grimm, solid and real in her hand. She wiped the coin on her skirt and examined it. Her eyes might have lied to her, but what was done was done, she had nothing to do but discard the thought and focus on more significant matters.

The chime of the clock signaled the beginning of class. She was late. Between her fingers, the skull embedded on the obverse stared back, smiling, as if it was mocking her for failing her goal of achieving a perfect record. She recited the text in the header of the Attendance Card in her head: The Royal Academy of Diavolo is glad to commend you for prompt attendance and good work in the Devildom. Prompt attendance. She contemplated whether it would be better to skip class altogether or have all heads turn her way and be reprimanded for coming late.

“A Grimm?” Asmodeus, who had come closer, asked.

“Apparently.” 

“It’s not every day someone finds money in a random place. It might be a good omen, who knows?” Asmodeus said and grimaced, remembering the state he found her in. “You sure you’re okay, though? You aren’t injured, are you? I’d hate it if a wound ends up scarring your beautiful skin because I wasn’t able to get here earlier. Oh, no...”

Asmodeus scanned her from head to toe with genuine concern, taking her wrist with a gentle touch and checking her hands for any scratches and injuries.

“I’m okay, really—”

“Hey! Whaddaya think you’re doin’, huh? Watch where those dirty hands are touchin’, Asmo... or better yet, keep your dirty hands to yourself!” Mammon exclaimed as he appeared by the stairs. His hair was a mess, his uniform was untucked as always but more disheveled than usual, and his tie was undone. He crouched down with his hands on his knees as he panted from the exhaustion of running over to the academy in record time.

That took her by surprise. All this time, she had thought Mammon had left without her, but it turned out he had slept in as well. In reality, she was the one who left him behind, and the pang of guilt turned her bad day worse. 

Asmodeus let her wrists go and spun around to shoot Mammon an icy glare. “Excuse me? Dirty?!”

“Yeah! Ya heard me!”

“How dare you, you scum. If anyone here is dirty, it’s you!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever ya say.” Mammon rushed to her side and grabbed her hand. “We’re runnin’ late, let’s go.”

“What are you saying? We’re already late, Mammon.”

“And we’re gonna be even later if we don’t run faster. Come on or else Lucifer’s never gonna let us hear the end of it.”

Mammon was right. She hadn’t thought of that. A late attendance in class would entail a lecture from Lucifer, but a complete absence without a valid reason would warrant an even longer lecture and a possible punishment. The last time she and Mammon got into trouble, Lucifer talked their ears off all night and assigned them on kitchen duty for two weeks. She shuddered at the thought.

“Oh, no. I am not going to go through that again. See you later, Asmo!” She waved goodbye and let herself be dragged by Mammon to class, making a mental note to sneak a text in her D.D.D. later to thank him for his concern and apologize they had to leave in a rush.

For now, she made sure to wrap her fingers around the Grimm she picked up, not wanting to lose it, while her other hand grasped onto Mammon just as tightly, not wanting to be left behind.

“Hey,” she called once they were in front of the closed doors of the classroom. “Face this way, Mammon.”

“Hm?” He turned to her, confused, and backed away when she stepped closer to take his tie. “H-Hey! What’re ya doin’?!”

“Shh! They’re going to think we were... up to no good if you come in like that,” she stated. With Mammon paralyzed by self-consciousness, she took the opportunity to fix his tie, her fingers deft with the task from learning how to do her own every day. “Sorry about leaving you. I thought you already went to the academy... without me.”

“If I did that, Lucifer will hang me upside down again. You’re under my care, remember?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she said and froze. They were standing at such proximity that she could hear his heavy breaths and feel their heat on her cheek. With adrenaline in her veins, she glanced at him and found his intense gaze boring on her face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His cheeks flushed, and he averted his eyes. “Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

Right, she thought as she adjusted the knot on his tie. There was nothing she could do about the rumpled state of his clothes, but it was an improvement. “There. Let’s go.”

All heads turned their way the moment they opened the door, and as she expected, the teacher reprimanded them for their late attendance as they took their seats. But with Mammon to show up with her and share half of the brunt of the unwanted attention, it wasn’t as bad as she expected it would be.

Saturday came. As an apology for leaving him behind the other day, she wanted to invite Mammon to go around town, do a bunch of random stuff, eat at Hell's Kitchen—anything at all; her treat. With Mammon, everything ended up being enjoyable, and she would bet anything he wouldn’t turn down a chance to hang out and not have to spend a single coin. However, his seat remained empty during breakfast. After learning her lesson that he might have slept in, she knocked on his room to check on him but received no answer. She tried a few more times before resorting to turning the knob, which, surprisingly, was unlocked.

“Mammon? Are you here?” she called as she peeked inside.

The room was a chaotic mess, much like its owner. Fancy boxes of designer clothing were littered all over the floor, the tissues used to cushion the products strewn around them. A flurry of envelopes, which she suspected were bills Mammon had to pay, laid on the sofa. The most recent issue of Devil Style published by Majolish in which Mammon graced the front cover was opened on the coffee table, a few empty instant noodle cups next to it. The first area she searched for was his bed, and she was right; he had indeed slept in and was there. But the scene that awaited her made her eyes widen and her hand fly over her mouth on reflex.

His sheets were pure white, a contrast to the sinful form right in the middle of it all. Mammon dozed off, his whole facial expression carefree, his mouth hanging open as he snored lightly. A fluffy pillow under his head, his hair was tousled and messy, a few shades darker than the fabric it splayed on. A blanket covered his bottom half, but the rest of his lean, muscular body was bare. Sans the wings, he looked like an angel from a classical painting, and she couldn’t help but wonder how he had once looked like before he had fallen; what kind of wings he had, if a halo once had a place over his head. It wasn’t the first time she had seen a considerable amount of his skin, but the reality of the situation made her heartbeat accelerate and sent blood rushing to her cheeks: Mammon laid in front of her in his sleeping glory, possibly wearing nothing under the sheets.

“You… idiot… human…” Mammon groaned and mumbled something that sounded a lot like her name.

With the subsequent panic brought by the thought that Mammon had woken up, she staggered backward, her eyes darting around his room in search of a place to hide. To her unbelievable luck, he merely shifted his position and rolled onto his back, still asleep. Typical Mammon; even in his dreams, he was calling her an ‘idiot’ and ‘human’, but the fact that she starred in his dreams flattered her, she had to admit. He continued to mumble incoherently, his blanket still hung dangerously low, a slight movement from him and...

For once, she had to agree that she was an idiotic human. It was dangerous to lurk around this place. The longer she stayed, the higher the chances of him actually waking up and catching her red-handed. She raced to the door, avoiding the clutter on the way and thankfully succeeding. The click of the lock let her breathe a sigh of relief, and she had to fan her face with a hand to calm herself. No one was around the corridor which was a blessing on her end. She wouldn’t know how to explain what happened. 

Like a second version of Leviathan, she fled the scene and shut herself inside her room for the rest of the day, ensuring she had as minimal contact as possible with the outside world. She entertained herself by watching an anime Leviathan recommended, her D.D.D. set aside and unattended. The image of Mammon earlier would sneak inside her mind from time to time, and it was enough to make her flustered all over again. It was pure insanity, she admonished herself for being so ruffled about it.

The whole day passed, no one disturbed her, and she didn’t see Mammon at all.

On Sunday morning, having convinced herself to brush the incident off, she sent Mammon a message and asked him what he was up to, intent on pursuing the original plan yesterday before the... unexpected occurred. He replied a few minutes later with another detailed scheme he was cooking up to pay off a portion of his debt to the witches. She was skeptical of it, but she sent him words of encouragement and hoped for the best. It would be nice if he wasn’t being chased by his debtors 24/7, but since she arrived at the Devildom, the name 'Mammon' and the word 'debt' had always been mutually inclusive. The house was quiet, and she had to admit, it felt lonely without him around. 

In her bedroom, the desk was filled with things she collected in this world as time passed by, like her RAD identification card which she hung on her corkboard and the photo booth souvenirs she got during Spirit Week alongside it. The lamp illuminated the text of A Synopsis of Primitive Magical Theory, a book Satan lent to her last week. The hardbound cover was unlike anything she had seen before, with symbols she has yet to learn about inscribed on them. It was an old book—ancient, even—that was a rare find even in the Devildom. She suspected Satan had spells cast on it to retain its pristine condition. 

As she read a few chapters and reached the end of a passage about curses, she flipped the page and was taken aback by what she saw: a Demon Voucher, shiny and crisp, lodged in the middle of the pages. The Grim Reaper, a contrast of black against the bright yellow, stared back at her as if she was being haunted and fetched for the afterlife—which was a silly thought to have; she was already living in the Devildom. The voucher looked new. She concluded it was Satan’s, and he must have misplaced them. With that, she set it aside and planned to mention it to him later when they would see each other during lunch or dinner.

She thought that was the end of it, but when she flipped the next page, another voucher awaited her. It was odd. She tapped her index finger at the bottom of the page, a ludicrous thought running inside her head. There was no way that what she was thinking was true, and she flipped the page in anticipation, only to be proven that her guess was correct: another voucher.

A hundred times she flipped the pages of the book, a hundred Grim Reapers stared back at her from each sheet of the Demon Vouchers.

Were those already there beforehand? Or did the Primitive Magical Theory this book was about had something to do with what was happening? Unable to ignore the confusion that plagued her mind, she shut the book and stacked the vouchers together, deciding to approach its owner about it.

On the way to Satan’s room, she came across Lucifer in the corridor of the House of Lamentation. As they approached each other from opposite directions, she smiled politely at him in greeting. No matter how much she crossed her fingers that Lucifer hadn't heard about her and Mammon’s late attendance the other day, the chances of it happening in real life were low. Still, he hasn’t had a chat with either of them about it...

“Not with Mammon today?” Lucifer asked once they were a few steps away from each other.

She laughed nervously. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You two have been inseparable as of late, don’t you think so?” He spotted the book in her hand. “A Synopsis of Primitive Magical Theory? An excellent title.”

“It’s Satan’s.”

“Well then, carry on. I have a meeting with Diavolo and must be on my way as well.”

He didn’t need to tell her twice.

Minutes later, she stood in front of Satan’s door and knocked. “It’s me.”

There was shuffling inside, and the door swung open with a creak. Satan greeted, “Not with Mammon today?”

“Huh? Not you, too!”

“Just kidding. Come in.” He laughed and ushered her inside, gesturing to the book in her hand. “Have you finished reading it? What do you think?”

“Not yet, but I am halfway through,” she replied. “That’s not what I came here for, though. I’m here because I found these vouchers in the pages, I think you misplaced them as a bookmark… maybe? And you might want to use them, so here they are…”

He shook his head. “Those aren’t mine. I have a lot of bookmarks.”

“Well, there are a hundred of these here." She waved the stack of vouchers in her other hand to emphasize her point. "Please give me a spoiler: is this the ‘Primitive Magic’ the book is talking about?”

“I can assure you, it’s not. I’ve read the book a ton of times, and nothing like that has ever happened to me.”

“Whose are these, then? Maybe the one who borrowed it before me?’

“You’re the first one I lent it to.”

“But I…” She was rendered speechless by what she has learned. If these weren’t his or hers, then where did they come from?

“Say, are any strange things happening to you lately?” Satan asked, a cryptic smile making his gentle features unnerving.

She stared back at him with suspicion. “The Devildom is a whole new world to me, so something strange always happens, of course. At least, they are strange to me.”

“Ah, that is correct.” He nodded and folded his fingers together. “But if I may give you a piece of advice? Remember the things you were told on your first day here. They may lead you to a rather surprising conclusion.”

“I see… Remember the things I was told on my first day here…"

Satan's eyes glinted with mischief. He knew something she didn’t, she was sure. Before she could ponder over his word of advice, all traces of mystery vanished from his face as he suggested excitedly, “Why don’t you use those vouchers and treat yourself? Finders keepers!”

She spent the night tossing and turning with recollections of the recent events in her mind. When she picked up that Grimm in the corridor the other day, Asmodeus had said that it might have been a good omen. If that was true, she wondered if the forces surrounding her were the cause of the things happening to her or if there was something or someone else behind them. It was the last thing in her mind before she drifted to sleep and dreamed about gold coins raining down from the sky.

The next day, she went to a mall on the way home after class, intent on getting rid of the vouchers in the best way possible: by using them. 

Mammon would be proud, she thought. She wondered what he would do if a hundred vouchers appeared in front of him, and concluded he’d drool over them as Beelzebub would to a cheeseburger. The thought alone was hilarious. It wasn’t as if she was spending them all for herself; she was off to do so for the ones who she couldn’t imagine her stay in the Devildom without. Despite the odd way she acquired the vouchers, she decided to make the most out of them as Satan suggested and take the opportunity to show her appreciation to the seven brothers.

Luckily for her, the mall she went to had a selection of items from the human world, and she decided she would gift them things she was familiar with and had meaning to her. First, she looked for five titles of human books she enjoyed for Satan; all in the mystery genre. His thirst for knowledge made them the perfect choice for him, and as a thoughtful demon, he would appreciate her recommendations. Besides, the reason she had this kind of opportunity was because of the book he lent her; five books as a gift for him didn’t seem like enough. A stack of records caught her eye, and she knew it would suit Lucifer right away. She chose one which she considered was a hidden gem in her world. Asmodeus has always been curious about a particular perfume she sometimes wore, the one which had soft, sweet, and flowery notes in it, and so she included the largest bottle of that in her purchases. For Leviathan, a rare and newly released Ruri-chan figure with bunny ears that she hoped he didn’t have yet—if that was even possible. She picked up the ingredients for the special recipe of cheeseburger she planned to cook for Beelzebub, and a sushi pillow and a sleeping eye mask for Belphegor.

As for Mammon… Well, what would Mammon like?

The answer was easy: money… and instant noodles in hell-sauce flavor, he liked that, too.

She frowned, strolling along the aisles with a cart full of her selected gifts. Instant noodles were too simple of a present, but she also didn’t feel like giving him the vouchers and letting him spend those for himself. It would defeat the purpose of her gifting him something. She racked her brains for something else Mammon enjoyed and came up with an idea. Excited, she rummaged through her bag for her D.D.D. and gave him a call.

He answered on the first ring. “Yooooo! THE Mammon speakin’.”

“Wanna watch TSL tonight?”

“Wh...?! What's that all of a sudden? I-I mean I’m busy… but I guess I can spare some time if it means a marathon of TSL. It’s not because I wanna watch with you in your room! It’s not that, okay?!”

She laughed. “Okay, then. See you later.”

A box set of The Tale of the Seven Lords Full Series DVD for Mammon it was.

Despite Mammon telling her that he would be coming not because he wanted to watch with her, she knew he did. He was obvious in that way, and she would have to be blind for her not to notice how different he acted when it came to her. Still, it didn’t change the fact that he was always adamant in denying everything, and though she found herself charmed, they were only going in circles and nowhere at this rate.

With everyone checked off her list, she pushed her cart to the nearest check-out and stood in the queue. The cashier greeted her a good afternoon and scanned her items. After seeing the total amount, she grabbed her purse to prepare her payment until the cashier, as well as the other staff, clapped their hands and said in unison, “Congratulations!”

“Huh?!”

The cashier shook her hand. “Again, congratulations, miss! You are now getting all of these items and more for FREE!”

“H-Hold on, there must be a mistake. I know that I’m a human, but I have money, too! I even have a debit card… and a bunch of vouchers! See?”

“Of course, of course... However, it isn’t that at all.” the cashier replied. “You are officially our 666th customer of the 6th month of the year! As a prize, you are entitled to our best deal, which is getting everything in your cart for free, absolutely no charges.”

“What in hell’s name…”

“Oh, and here is your Lucky 666 Card! Enjoy a 99.9% discount on your birthday! Just sign your name over the dotted line… There we go… Thank you for your continued patronage!”

She stared blankly at the sleek black card with three letters, bold and holographic, in the middle: VIP.

She sat in her room in a comfortable position, her head leaning over the sofa’s backrest, a pillow on her lap. She hasn’t seen Mammon since they parted after Devildom Law this morning. He had to do something for his debt again, this time another shoot for a clothing brand’s spread in Devil Style, and she was glad she was able to contact him earlier despite his busy schedule. He promised he was going to be present tonight, but it was almost time for their TSL marathon. Mammon hasn’t arrived yet. Did he forget?

Her bedroom door swung open. Mammon stood there, a huge bowl of popcorn in his arm, and cried out, “You didn’t tell me these two were goin’ to be here, too!”

“Oh… Hey, Mammon…”

“Beel...?! Doncha have a kitchen to raid or somethin’?”

“Movie night means popcorn,” Beelzebub replied with the happiest smile, taking the popcorn Mammon brought and filling his mouth with it the next second.

Leviathan inserted the disc of TSL Volume 1 in the DVD player. “Mammon thought she wanted to ask him on a date. How embarrassing! ROFLMAOOO XDDD!”

She chuckled at that, guiltily. In truth, she did want to ask Mammon to have a TSL marathon with her—and only her—tonight. Even someone as dense as Mammon would get a hint that she was into him… or was she giving him too much credit? Nonetheless, Beelzebub and Leviathan came knocking on her door, somehow having heard about their plans. They were very enthusiastic about tonight’s TSL marathon, she couldn’t deny them. It was too late now.

“Shut up, Levi! What’re ya doin’ here, anyway?” Mammon asked.

“It’s TSL Night. Of course, the #1 TSL fan should be present.” Leviathan turned to her and nodded in approval. “I have to say, you have excellent taste. The Ruri-chan figure you gave me is now in its rightful shrine in my room, so thanks… Plus, a limited edition TSL box set as another choice of gift? Such a shame it would be wasted on stupid Mammon, though… What a normie...”

“Grr… Whatever. I’m sitting here.” Mammon plopped down on the spot beside her and took up the majority of the space by stretching his arms and legs, the fabric of his jacket brushing with her bare arm as he settled in. She could get a whiff of that expensive perfume he liked and spent so much on. It was a familiar and comforting scent she associated with him.

“There goes Mammon again, hogging her all to himself.” Leviathan shook his head but otherwise sat on an individual seat like Beelzebub and helped himself with popcorn. “Should we invite Belphie? Where is he, anyway?” 

Beelzebub replied, “He’s asleep.”

“Nevermind, then.”

Instead of keeping her eyes on the opening scene of the first episode, she found herself watching Mammon. His hair, which she was no stranger to touching since she would rub his head often, was messy as always but in a good way. It suited him. Every time he blinked, the light and long lashes that framed his eyes emphasized the movement. Her gaze moved down, and she couldn’t help but notice the way his lips moved as he yelled at Beelzebub not to forget to bring them drinks from the kitchen on the way—them being him and her and not Leviathan. Mammon spoke freely, most of the time tactlessly, and though there were instances when he would say what was the opposite of what was in his mind, everyone who truly knew him would always be able to read between the lines.

“Hm? What’re ya lookin’ at me like that for?”

“Nothing,” she lied and gave him a small smile. “Is that a new earring you’re wearing?”

“Oh, ya noticed? Pretty neat, huh? Got it for a great price, too!” he enthused, brushing aside the hair that covered his ears so she could have a good look.

He proceeded to tell her the amount he spent on his new jewelry, which was indeed a great price, but not necessarily a great deal. She shook her head with a laugh. Up to the simplest things, Mammon would always be Mammon.

“It’s The Lord of Fools and Geldie! Oh, no... I can’t do this again, not anymore…” Mammon sobbed as soon as it was time for the ‘most tragic scene of all time’, although he had already cried over it the last time they had a TSL marathon. His sniffling earned teasing remarks from the three of them. Leviathan cheered when the Lord of Shadow and Henry did their legendary high five. Meanwhile, Beelzebub finished twenty bowls of popcorn, his eyes glued to the screen as well.

As the ending credits for Volume 5 rolled, her eyelids, which had been feeling heavy since the previous episode, gave in and fluttered closed. Her tiredness from school and her subsequent shopping trip began to catch up to her, and she could do nothing to fight it any longer.

“I’m so hungry...” Beelzebub’s stomach growled like an angry monster. He grabbed the empty bowl of popcorn and left the room the next second, on the way to raid the refrigerator.

“Bye… Beel…”

“Ah, I’ll never get tired of that.” Leviathan stretched his arms and legs. His D.D.D. rang, a song she didn’t recognize as his ringtone. He read the message, shot up from his seat, and exclaimed, “Oooooh! An emergency raid notification in Mononoke Land! Volume 6 tomorrow. Same time, same place. Leviachan, over and out.”

“See you… tomorrow… Levi…”

“D'aaah! H-Hey! Whaddya think you’re doin’?!” Mammon protested when she ended up leaning on his shoulder.

She wanted to tell him she was sleepy, but before she could, she had already succumbed and drifted off.

A pillow cushioned her head, and her blanket covered her body fully and protected her from the chill. It was silent save for the ticking of the clock that indicated it was three in the morning, a time which she would have been spooked to wake in if she was still in the human world. The television has been turned off, and the events earlier replayed in her mind: they were having a TSL marathon, and in the middle of it, she fell asleep. She recalled Beelzebub and Leviathan leaving. Mammon must have been the one to tuck her in bed. The thought made her heart soar, and she decided she would thank him later. For now, she would have sweet dreams for sure. Intent on continuing her slumber, she shifted her position to the side when the subsequent rustle of papers made her freeze.

Wary, her hand left the comfort of the blanket, and she reached out and dipped her fingers onto the bedsheet, her touch light but enough for her to feel a rectangular sheet of paper. Certain incidents from the past few days struck an unbelievable possibility in her mind. With a trembling hand, she brought the paper closer to her face. It was a bill—not the kind of bill Mammon possessed and received frequently—this was money; a hundred percent cold hard cash. She sat up, the astounding sight making all traces of sleep leave her body. Around her, the bed was littered with bills in various denominations. They were placed as if someone had thrown them haphazardly but avoided her form, the corners having the most amount in the most literal sense.

She stepped out of the bed with her eyes shut, rubbing them with the back of her hand and convincing herself they were deceiving her. However, the familiar feeling of something beneath her feet was enough for her to know that the probability of her being wrong was low. When she opened her eyes, the bills remained. Piles of Grimm stacked side by side with giant yellow gemstones, jewelry, and gold bars rested at the foot of the bed and all over the carpet. This wasn’t a petty amount of cash one could produce in a snap, and she believed there was no way someone was doing this to play a prank on her. She picked up a gold bar with one hand and a gemstone in another, its sizable weight and sparkle leaving her to the conclusion that none of these items were counterfeit, certainly not something to be trifled with. Her fingers growing limp, the gold bar and gemstone fell to the carpet, neither dented nor broken.

At first, it was the Grimm on the corridor, and then the Demon Vouchers. She received expensive items for free and became a VIP in a mall, and now this, items only treasure chests were known for appearing beside her as she slept.

It terrified her.

At a loss, she distanced herself from the collection of treasures and called the first name that came inside her mind, “Mammon!”

She was aware it was futile. It was the middle of the night. He would be deep in his sleep and wouldn’t hear her. But to her absolute surprise and relief, the door swung open within a minute. Mammon was the one behind it, looking like he threw the first articles of clothing he could get his hands on, a rumpled plain black shirt and pinstripe pajama bottoms, barefoot.

“Hey… What’s the big idea callin’ me in the middle of the night—” he had begun to fire his tirade of complaints but paused upon seeing her distress. Worry etched on his face as he strode to her side. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know! What are all these? Why is this happening?”

He grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her lightly. “What’re ya talking about? Are ya in danger? Tell me!”

She assumed Mammon would see it—smell it, even—the moment he walked in, yet he failed to notice. She gestured behind him and said, “See for yourself.”

Mammon spun around and yelped. Every single one of the various treasures shined brighter under the scrutiny of their gazes. Speechless, he ambled over to the foot of her bed, picked up a coin, and rolled it across his knuckles, uncharacteristically quiet.

Minutes went by, and she was unable to take the silence any longer. “I don’t understand what’s happening. It’s been like this since I tripped on that Grimm. It’s like I’m being haunted by the ghost of the Grimm or something.”

Her words remained unheard as Mammon threw the coin with a snap, absentminded. It landed neither on its head or tails but on its side, toppling over the nearest stack of Grimm and creating a domino effect to the one next to it. He rubbed his chin and began to mumble unintelligibly to himself.

Mammon was acting strangely.

She crossed her arms and observed, suspicious. She expected him to rejoice at the huge amount of money in his reach, try to pocket them, or talk her into breaking the gemstones into fragments and profiting from them. The ultimate form of temptation for Mammon laid in front of him, yet there he was, lost in thought. “You know something.”

Mammon finally heard her words. He turned her way slowly, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Tell me,” she said.

“No way! I dunno anythin’.” He tried to play it cool, yet she saw right through him; from the way a thin sheen of sweat had covered his face to the way his throat bobbed as he gulped, his gaze landing anywhere but her—he was alarmed.

“Don’t lie.”

He stood and backed away, all the while laughing nervously. “Well… it might be because of me…”

It was true that Mammon was the last one who was with her in this room before this, as far as she knew, but it was also no secret that he constantly had an empty wallet and piggy bank—even his credit card was frozen once again by Lucifer. Always without a spare change to his name, he was indebted to beings both mortal and supernatural. Was he saying that he had a stash of funds in secret?

“Because of you? What do you mean?”

“You know… Haha...”

“I don’t, actually.” She crossed her arms and gave him a heated look. “Explain, Mammon.”

“D’aaah! Okay, okay!” He scratched the back of his neck, a blush coloring his cheeks, hesitant. “Uh… Satan already told ya what happens when… the Avatar of Greed… takes a liking to someone, didn’t he?”

So, it was something Satan said… When she thought it over, Satan’s advice from last time echoed inside her mind: something she was told on her first day in the Devildom.

It all clicked.

Her first day had been a whirlwind, but one fateful occurrence was her meeting with the brothers, one of them being Mammon. The words Satan said as he introduced him rang in absolute clarity in her mind:

“Mammon here is the Avatar of Greed. He governs and oversees all forms of it. Whenever he takes a liking to someone, they suddenly find themselves awash in money. But from what I hear, if he decides to break it off with someone, that wealth evaporates. They’re left without a Grimm to their name.”

Mammon has taken a liking to her.

Mammon, the student council member assigned to be her caretaker. He has done his task in the most Mammon way possible since day one. When troubles came, his self-preservation won most of the time, but she couldn’t blame him. For some reason, he would still be the one who ended up in trouble with Lucifer, and it all worked out at the end of the day, always.

Mammon, the demon who claimed he wasn’t terrified of horror movies and would watch them to prove his point and fail. It made her and his brothers laugh every single time. She would insist on switching into an action, drama, or romantic comedy film, knowing he was partial to those genres and would be overcome with emotions other than fear. He would end up enjoying movie nights he dreaded.

Mammon, the ‘best bud’ she could talk and laugh with about the craziest things, the partner in crime she never had in the world she was born in. Her self-proclaimed ‘first guy’ who tried his best to deny everything, but wore his heart on his sleeve for everyone to take notice. He was far from perfect, but he was unapologetically himself, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

Mammon, the one who was in front of her now, peering over her face from afar with worry, as if she mattered more than the mountain of material treasures behind him.

Mammon has taken a liking to her, and it wasn’t mere liking.

“Do you love me, Mammon?” She took a step closer to him, wanting nothing but the truth.

He tried to step further away, but the back of his legs met the bed. “Wh…What?!” 

“Answer me.”

 “Uh… I guess ya ain’t bad for a human..."

“No. Honestly.”

He didn’t freeze, but he did stop fidgeting. She couldn’t tell if it was the power of the pact or the honesty the moment warranted that worked over Mammon as his shoulders slumped in defeat and answered, “Yes.”

The ticking of the clock has never been this loud. He finally admitted it. After all the stolen glances and hidden affections they had harbored toward each other for the longest time, he managed to be honest not only with himself but also to her. This changed things, and she could cry because she has waited for this moment in what seemed like an eternity.

“Listen here, and listen good! I’m not a regular demon, y’know! I’m The Great Mammon, Avatar of Greed, one of Devildom’s elite… It should be an honor! But you… you didn’t even give me a reply…” he said, his final sentence dripping with hurt and self-pity.

It was her turn to be honest; she couldn’t have him getting the wrong idea, especially when he had taken a risk to confess his true feelings. She rushed and threw her arms around him, making them fall to the bed and a few bills fly to the floor. “Stupid Mammon. I love you, too.”

“Wh…? Really? Did I hear that right? You’re not joking, are ya?” He cradled her face in his hands and sought her eyes for answers, his own wide in a mixture of disbelief and hope.

She leaned down until her lips brushed his. “Yes, you heard it right, and no, I’m not joking. I love you.” 

He broke into a smile, overjoyed, and in a second, closed the gap between them in a kiss, one she was ready for, and she welcomed and reciprocated. It was gentle in all the ways imaginable, tinged with uncertainty as the reality of it all has yet to sink in. Before she knew it, it was over too soon.

“You can’t take it back!” Mammon exclaimed once they parted. He has never looked happier, and she always wanted to see him like this.

“I have no plans to.” She brushed her fingertips along his cheek.

“Good. ‘Cause I love ya.”

There they were, the exact words she had been waiting for.

Mammon gazed at her with fondness, a special look that he only had for her. His palm slid to the back of her neck, testing the idea of another kiss which she was more than happy to grant him, the passion she had pent inside her waiting to be released. As her tongue readily slid past his parted lips and met his, he embraced her and moved them into a sitting position. She followed in perfect synchrony, straddling his lap comfortably as she carded her fingers through his hair and pulled lightly, the two of them reluctant to break the kiss. Their initial shyness gone, Mammon’s touch on her waist grew firmer as the kisses turned deeper. His hands wandered to the curve of her hips, and on instinct, she shifted her hips forward to press herself closer to him. She succeeded, the space between their bodies now close to none, but that single movement from her also made her aware of his raging arousal. The heat between her legs made her mind go hazy with the extent of her own need for him, and it filled her mind with possibilities of where this could go.

Hesitant fingers teased the hem of her blouse and brushed over the exposed skin on her lower back. Mammon leaned back, his lips swollen and alluring, and murmured, “H-Hey, hold up a sec, are ya sure about this?”

It made her happy that he asked. Rough around the edges as he was, he cared for her so much. She was so in love with him. “Of course. I mean, are you?”

He pressed open-mouthed kisses on her shoulder, nipping and sucking at the skin on her neck until his lips caressed the shell of her ear. The warmth of his breath emphasized the weight of the words he whispered, “You’re mine now.”

It sent a thrill down her spine. She liked the sound of that, even more, because it meant that he was hers in the same way. Back then, she chided herself for letting her mind wander, but being surrounded by Mammon, an embodiment of a sin himself and the one she struggled to conceal her feelings for, made it difficult to brush those thoughts aside. How he’d feel like, how he’d taste, how he’d hold her—she’d imagined it all. Sometimes, she wondered if he was the same. Did he see her face, imagine her bare body, when he touched himself?

A passing glance over the bed reminded her of the current situation they were in. She let out a teasing laugh. “Is this your fantasy, Mammon? You and me… on a bed full of money? Or is there something else?”

“Shut up…” he replied, not sounding in denial at the least. He buried his face on her neck, his breath tickling her skin as he inhaled her scent.

“Either way, it won’t take long. I’ll know soon enough.” She would, maybe not tonight, but they had all the time in the world. Once she figured them out, the two of them would take delight in each one of those fantasies.

Tentatively, she ground her hips against him and leaned for another fierce kiss. Despite the fabric of their pajamas serving as a barrier between their bodies, it was thin enough that even the slightest movement created enough friction in the right places. He let out grunts of approval against her lips and soon met every grind of her hips with his own. Underneath her, she felt the hardening outline of his length, every press leaving her dizzy with the scorching desire for more. She could reach her peak simply by doing this, yet her mind swirled with other ideas. She broke the kiss and shifted her legs so she could stand.

“Where are ya goin’?” Mammon protested, reaching out to take her back in his arms once her unsteady feet toppled over the stack of treasures and touched the carpet.

“Relax,” she assured, a seductive smile gracing her lips. “Undress me.”

“O-Okay…” He gulped and stuttered to say more but failed. 

Her heart raced as she took his hands in hers, placed them on her shoulders, and slid them down, pausing to give special attention to her breasts before guiding him to the spot where the first button of her blouse rested. Mammon was stunned, but in the blink of an eye, he regained whatever was left of his composure and took matters into his own hands. He undid the buttons one by one, taking all the time in the world, his lustful eyes trained on every inch of her skin that was revealed to him as he went further. When he reached the last one, she shrugged the fabric off her shoulders and discarded it on the floor. The cool temperature of the room nipped at her skin, but she paid it no mind. Gingerly, he tugged at the garter of her pajama pants before he drew the fabric down, and without a word, she stepped out of them and turned around. His nervous fingers traced the curve of her spine and fumbled to unhook her bra. After a couple of seconds, he succeeded, but she didn’t wait for him and slid her panties off herself, the sharp intake of breath behind her unmistakable the moment she bent down and gave him a full view of her damp entrance. She faced the shocked, blushing mess on her bed that was Mammon, and basked in the boost of confidence given to her by the reality that she was the cause of his arousal as he was the sole reason for hers.

“How about we make this more exciting?” She stepped closer to him and reached for the hem of his shirt. 

Mammon obliged at once, discarding it on the floor with her clothes. “Huh? Whaddya mean by that?”

She took a moment to appreciate his toned body before stripping his trousers and undergarments off. Their bodies both bared for the other to see, she returned to her rightful place on his lap while gesturing over to the mysterious collection of treasures around them, “Everything around us on the line if we finish this without you touching me.”

Though flustered and blushing, her statement distracted him and piqued his interest. “All of it? I mean, what’s this all about? Are ya bein’ serious right now?”

“Of course, I am. Think about it, all this money for you to spend, Mammon! Your wallet will never be lonely again… or at least, it won’t be for a while.”

“What’s in it for you, though?”

“Well… nothing, to be honest. Victory, maybe?”

“Lame. That’s the dumbest reason I’ve ever heard from someone makin’ a bet.”

Despite the lack of intrigue his words implied, the look on his face told her that he was considering it. Money was involved, after all. His nature as the Avatar of Greed would make it difficult for him to resist. She wasn’t bluffing; should he be able to do it, she would fulfill her end of the bargain.

“But don’t you like that you’ll be in advantage here? Easy money, right?” She tipped his chin with her index finger. “Don’t tell me… you can’t handle it?”

“Grr… Deal.”

“That’s the answer I was hoping for.”

“Just don’t come cryin’ to me after I win.”

“We’ll see about that.” He was fooling no one. He wouldn’t want her crying to anyone but him if she did end up in tears. Still, she was positive there was no need for any of that. As insane as it sounded, both the prospect of her winning and losing heightened her anticipation. “Now… where were we?”

“We were gettin’ to the good part.”

“Hm, isn’t that right.”

Her fingers brushed along the seam of his lips, coaxing them to open and let her slip them inside. Mammon’s pupils were dilated as his warm tongue swirled around her index and middle fingers almost on reflex and made sure not to miss the space between them. Pleased, she pulled her digits away, the sound of the final suck he gave them sending a thrill to her core, and rewarded him with a peck on the lips. She braced herself with her other hand on his shoulder, shifting her knees in a position that allowed her to settle his legs between them. Coyly, she gazed at him through half-lidded eyes, gauging his reaction as she reached down and let her fingers work their way to the slick heat between her legs. 

Her salacious mind raced with thoughts of Mammon as she slipped her fingers inside her. He looked so handsome with desire etched on his face—from his frustrated eyebrows to his pouted lips—that she felt as if she was on fire under the intensity of his gaze. He was tense, torn on focusing on her face or on the carnal movements her fingers were doing to herself. A deal was a deal; he could do nothing but clench his jaw and ball his fists to restrain himself, unable to touch her though he was dying to…

It was all too much for her.

“Mammon…!” she whimpered his name right before his very eyes. Her head fell back at the sensation of her climax, her lips parted by the moans she didn’t bother stifling. She shut her eyes as the feeling ebbed, hyper-aware of the sweat that had begun to coat her skin, and limped against his body, her cheek resting on his shoulder.

“W-What about m-me?”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t touch yourself,” she pointed out slyly, leaning back to face him again, “but since your self-control is commendable, I can do it for you… if you want me to?”

“Yes…” he responded shamelessly.

It made her smile. That was another honest moment for him, but she supposed desperate times called for desperate measures. Her fingers, coated in her wetness, slipped between their bodies and closed around his shaft lightly, making his eyes flutter shut at the sweet sensation. At the groan elicited by her first touch, she wasted no time in moving her fist up and down, acquainting herself with the feel of him and leaving him swallowing hard and gasping for breath. The grunts that came out of his mouth spurred her to continue her ministrations, but seeing him like this reminded her of something.

“You know, I went to your room one time. You were sleeping,” she confessed, her tone downplaying the effect the sight of him had on her, her hand never missing a second in pleasuring him.

His eyes flew open in alarm. Unable to think straight, he grit out, “Wh…huh? Don’t tell me you saw… everythin’ while I was… asleep…?”

She chuckled. He was unsettled over the fact that she found out he slept naked when he was all bared in front of her now, her hand still stroking him. It was endearingly Mammon to be that way. She leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together. “No, I didn’t see everything.”

“I only saw you from here...” with her other hand, she brushed her fingertips from his shoulder, the path accentuated by the edge of her nail, down to the lines on his abdomen, “until here.”

“R-Really?” 

“Yes. This is the first time I’m seeing you like this, all of you.”

He let out another moan in response, his shaft now completely rigid inside her fist.

She pushed him down on the bed by his shoulder. The mattress bounced at their weight and sent bills flying to the floor, reminding her of the bet she proposed but had almost forgotten. Breathless, she aligned her body over his but paused at the last second to meet his expectant gaze. “Remember, no touching.” 

“Yeah, I know. You don’t need to remind me—”

His retort was cut off when she began to descend and take him inch by inch, both of them groaning in unison the moment she buried him until the hilt. Still sensitive from her previous climax, she clenched around him and took time to adjust to his size, her hands splayed on his abdomen for support as she shivered and delighted in the relief of having her yearning filled.

Mammon squirmed underneath her and whined, “I-Is that it...? You’re just gonna do that… and I dunno... sit there…?”

“Shut up, Mammon.” She shot him a glare, or at least tried to, she was too addled with pleasure to know if she succeeded.

To Mammon’s credit, he hasn’t touched her.

She moved languidly, unsheathing him and pausing before sinking fully once again. Her hips moved forward and back in search of the perfect angle that further evoked frenzied reactions from him. The control she had over the pace and being able to call the shots—something about those sent a thrill inside her. Sweat began to drip down her skin, and it didn’t take long for her to set the rhythm and bounce up and down on his length, burying him inside her again and again. Mammon let out a string of expletives at the pleasure that took over his body, his toes curling and his tight fists clenching at the pink bedsheet. He couldn’t touch her, but he needed to hold onto something—anything—that could save him from falling off the brink of insanity. 

Soon, she felt it; he was close. Mammon let out unabashed moans and curses and chanted her name so loudly his voice filled every corner of the room. A glance to the door, which she was unsure if Mammon had locked earlier or not, awakened her mind of the possibilities of the two of them getting caught and barged on. She unsheathed him again, but this time, halted her movements. “Keep it down, or I won’t let you.”

His hips moved on instinct, meeting her halfway in desperation for more but to no avail. She had shifted back, out of reach as he was unable to touch her if he wanted to win the bet. Mammon’s breaths came out in huffs as he came down from his high, so close yet not enough, the frustration lacing his words as he rasped, “You’re evil…”

“Am I? That sounds like something I should be telling you, though. I’m just a human, after all,” she reminded him with a chuckle.

“My human.”

In silence, she concurred. She adjusted her position and took his entire length once more, starting relentlessly to drive him to the edge one more time, only to stop at the last second when his voice rose, making him lose his momentum.

Mammon shut his eyes and grit his teeth, pulling at the sheets. “I… I’m goin’ crazy…!”

“You are?”

“Can’t… Can’t ya see—”

She sank on him again and took him in one fluid motion, rolling her hips back and forth against him mercilessly.

“I can’t do this… I need to touch ya… ”

“How greedy of you, Mammon.” Even in terms of her attention, he has always been a greedy one; making sure he would be the one to do things for her when his brothers gave her the slightest bit of attention. She has a strong feeling that he would be the same when it came to her affection now, but it would pose no problem on her end because, for all she cared, he could have every last bit of it. “You’ll lose, though. Is that what you want?”

“I don’t care anymore, dammit.”

And so, Mammon lost the bet.

Impulsively, he reached behind her head and bent her down so he could kiss her again, his tongue tasting hers clumsily but very eagerly. All worries of them possibly getting caught flew out the window. She propped herself with her hands on the mattress with ease, the majority of her weight supported by his body. His lips moved down to her neck, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake, until he could give equal attention to her breasts, cupping them with his palms before settling on the curves of her hips, grunting as he thrust inside her in a swift motion.

This time, she was the one who had to bite back a moan. Mammon had been holding back. At the rapid succession of his thrusts, she was reminded of how physically strong he was beyond her human capability. Back arched, she tried her best to match his rhythm until both their movements turned erratic. The heat built up in her lower abdomen, and she reached her peak once again, aware the moment he trembled underneath her and followed. Amid the waves of pleasure, her eyes fluttered open, wanting nothing but to watch as he came undone and found him gazing at her in the same way through gritted teeth. Every pulsation inside her and the warmth of his release left her dizzy, but through dazed eyes, she didn’t dare look away from him and took everything he had to give. 

Mammon embraced her as he panted and leaned his forehead against the curve of her neck, gratified, still caught up in the haze of pleasure.

“You lost,” she reminded, her fingers threading along his soft locks as she hugged him back and dropped a gentle kiss on his cheek.

For some reason, Mammon’s chest rumbled with laughter. Despite not knowing what was so amusing about the situation they were in, his laughter, as always, was contagious. She couldn’t help it and ended up laughing as well.

She hummed to the tune of one of the songs in the TSL soundtrack as she brushed her hair after a late-night—or better yet, very early morning—bath. Already dressed in her uniform, she set the brush down and finished the rest of her routine. Classes were bound to begin in three hours; she couldn’t risk sleeping, not waking up on time, and coming in late again. Besides, it wasn’t as if she could sleep after the most eventful hours of her life. She spun around, her eyes landing on the cause of the incredible incidents that had happened to her, her favorite creature out of all the existing realms.

Like her, Mammon was also in his uniform, his yellow tie in a perfect knot as she was the one who had done it for him. He was hanging out in her room and stacking the money that had appeared because he was the Avatar of Greed on the table. As terrible as he was in mathematics, everything was a different matter when the skull of the Grimm was involved; he audited the money, the possible prices of the gemstones, jewelry, and gold bars in a notebook like a professional. His eyebrows were knit and his lips were in a thin line in concentration; a rare look on him. She watched from afar with a smile.

“So, about all this money,” he began and gestured to her direction with his pen. “Ya better do somethin’ about ‘em because they’re gonna keep comin’, I’m tellin’ ya.”

He wasn’t about to stop his affections for her anytime soon, that was what he meant, so it entailed material and financial opportunities would have the sky as its limit.

Truth to be told, she didn’t have the slightest clue on what she would do with them and had been pondering about the matter since she stepped in the bath. All of it wouldn’t have appeared if not because of Mammon, and as he said, there would be more coming her way soon. She voiced out her idea nonchalantly, “Hm… I think I’ll use these to pay your debt.” 

His pen, which has been gliding across the paper, halted. Mammon regarded her with utter surprise. “Huh? Y-You will?”

“You don’t like the idea?”

“Who said I didn’t like the idea? No one!” He left his computations aside and strode to her, taking her hands in his without a warning, hopeful. “You’ll really help me? Your first guy? The demon you love?

His words reminded her of their intimate moments earlier and the dull ache between her legs. Flustered at Mammon’s audacity, her cheeks turned red. They had only been together for hours, yet he was already this arrogant, but it wasn’t as if anything he had said was a lie either. She pulled her hands away and crossed her arms. “If you’re nice to me, I might.”

Unfazed, Mammon grinned and put an arm around her shoulders. “Why, of course, I am, and I will always be. Whaddya think, huh?”

“I’m not kidding, Mammon. I don’t want random witches chasing after my boyfriend,” she said and shifted her body to the side to meet his wide-eyed gaze with her serious one.

“B-B-Boyfriend?!”

“Why do you look so surprised? Isn’t that what you are to me?”

“I-I mean… Yeah, I guess you can count on THE Great Mammon to be your b-boyfriend, haha… I mean, I’m an awesome boyfriend, right? The best?”

“Hm, maybe...”

“Aw, maaan.”

It was no secret: Mammon was a sucker for compliments, even more so when they came from her. While it seemed silly, she knew how it felt; a compliment from Mammon would make her day no matter what the circumstances were. He looked downcast, frowning, and that was all it took for her to give in. She embraced him by the waist and murmured on his chest, “Of course, you are.”

In a span of a night, a lot of things had changed; the commitment she made with Mammon, the first demon she forged a pact with in the Devildom, was now in a whole new level, a connection unlike any she shared with the others, their bond worth an amount no money could buy. Still, it didn’t feel as if many things were different. Mammon was still Mammon while she was still herself; both of them an indispensable part of each other’s lives. 

“Hey, you think I can win the lottery tomorrow?” she lifted her head and asked but was reminded that though it was dark, it was already morning, and it was going to be time for breakfast soon. “I mean, later?”

His eyes shined brighter than all of the various treasures he had counted combined. “Wanna find out?”

It was surreal to think that everything began with a single Grimm, and yet with Mammon leaning down to kiss her again, there was no doubt of it; she ended up hitting the jackpot.

Ka-ching! 🤑💰

If you made it this far, thank you so much for giving this story a chance. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Your feedback would be greatly appreciated 〜 💛

Obey Me! Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[cross-poison]

Slumber Parties --- Harley Quinn/Reader One Shot

Words: 1k || Warnings: alcohol, mentions of cheating, breakups, language

a/n: wanted to mix things up a bit while I’m waiting for AGITP inspiration to come back to me. This can definitely be read as platonic, if you prefer.

Her hand clapped you hard on the back, causing you to grunt into your shot glass of brightly-colored liquor. Although it initially was not a gentle gesture, she moved her hand up from the middle of your back to squeeze your shoulder and rub in a semi-soothing circle near the hem of your shirt. “You can do better than her anyways,” said your companion, head lolling to the side through her partially drunken state.

Harley Quinn was a lot of things. She was loud and spontaneous, and smarter than people gave her credit for, but she was not, by any means, a woman who half-assed things. After getting out of a long relationship with a girl who, despite your chemistry and her stellar good looks, didn’t deserve the title of “girlfriend” in the long run, you’d been taking the hit pretty hard. 

You hated to admit the way your heart clenched every time you remembered the sight of her on top of some tattoo’d up, motorcycle lover of a man on the couch you two had bought together, but it hadn’t been the first time she’d broken your heart in such a manner. 

Turns out, Harley had been a solid shoulder to cry on, having recently gotten out of her terrible relationship with the clown she’d spent so many years chasing after. As far as you could tell, she’d really taken it in stride, so it was no surprise she was the first one in your friend group you turned to to ask for a place to stay for a few weeks until you were back on your feet.

She’d mostly ignored you the first few times she heard you crying from her tiny guest bedroom, but the third time was enough to push her over the edge. That’s when she barged in and suggested the two of you go out and get absolutely hammered at the local bar. That’s exactly what you did.

Three drinks in, and you were crying into your elbow while your flashy friend went on and on about how your ex didn’t know who she’s messing with, and how you deserve more than someone who’s going to waste your time like that, so on and so forth. 

By now you’d lost count of the number of drinks you’d accepted from the bartender, and by now you were no longer shedding tears of sorrow, and instead tears of laughter as Harley tried (and failed) to bribe the bartender for another round in exchange for a manicure. He looked thoroughly unamused, and you apologetically fished out a few dollar bills to finish off the night at the bar with one more round for the two of you.

“I’m tellin’ ya, babe,” Harley slurred, scooping her shot glass off the table and clinking it against yours, “Bein’ single may just be the best thing that’s ever happened to ya! Ya getta chance to discover the real you, and ain’t that really the only thing that matters? Plus, come here on a good night,” she leaned dangerously far back on her barstool so she could gesture vaguely around at the other nearby patrons, “And you get a tonna free drinks. Everyone’s bein’ awful cheap here tonight.”

With a wink in your direction, she downed her shot. As you followed her lead, you heard her exhale loudly and stretch her arms above her head.  “Well, that’s about all I got on me for tonight. Whaddya say we call it a night early and head back to my place? We can make popcorn and watch some cheesy movie to cheer ya up!”

“Yeah, Har, sounds great,” you replied, easing yourself off the stool and trying to steady yourself so you didn’t crash to the floor and cause a scene.

Harley looped an arm around your waist to keep you upright, snickering softly. “You’re gonna have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, toots… bucha know what? So’m I, so I guess we’ll do that togetha too.”

By some miracle, you both made it back to her apartment with little to no trouble, besides an occasional stumble and getting lost once when Harley drunkenly pulled you down the wrong street. Once you were both in the door, Harley all but collapsed on the couch in the middle of the room, groaning and shoving her face into one of the cushions. You followed suit quickly after, tipping your head back to catch your breath.

After a moment, you heard her familiar drawl from beside you. “I know I promised ya popcorn,” Harley said, “But I don’t think my legs are cooperatin’ anymore tonight.”

You laughed and ran a hand through your hair, moving it out of your face. “Mine either. Don’t worry.”

You heard a faint shuffling from beside you, and before you could respond, Harley was laying her head across your lap, blinking up at you with blue eyes and a drunken smile. “I mean it tomorrow though. S’ gonna be the best fuckin’ popcorn you eva had, too. And whateva movie ya want. What’s your favorite? Y’like movies, right?”

“Yeah, I like movies, Har,” you chuckled, affectionately patting her on the head. 

“Me too,” she slurred, turning her face against your stomach, “I like ‘em too. We’ll watch some damn good movies,” with that, she lifted her arm and lifted her pinkie, “I swear it. Pinkie swear.”

You blinked and tried to move your arm to capture her pinkie with yours to seal the deal. You missed a few times, but as soon as you locked fingers, you could already hear her snoring.

Yeah.

Breakups are hard. Breakups suck. But not just anyone can boast they got to spend the night getting over their ex with Harleen Quinzel. Not everyone can boast they got to share a couch with her, either. Or that she promised them a day of movies and popcorn together, enjoying each other’s company.

That was something that distinctly belonged to you. 

And goddammit, you felt a piece of your heart soften in favor of Harley Quinn that night.

---

Ao3 Link : HERE

[colorfullfalls]

Appreciated

Summary: An American assistant catches Kylo Ren's eye at a United Nations conference.

Kylo Ren did not appreciate Earth. The people were unaware of his power, of the First Order's power. He was undoubtedly taking over Earth whether it was liked or not. He didn't care. He was free to do what he pleased without anyone to stop him. The UN gathered to discuss the issue of what to do, if war was even an option. Kylo Ren was amused by Earth's citizens for thinking they had a choice. Even if there was a war, the First Order would dominate within hours. His light saber would kill any of these fool within seconds. The conference was held in the United States, tense anxiety looming over each member like a cloud. Kylo smirked at the intimidation of his starkiller hovering in the sky. One wrong move and he would wreak havoc.

His knights surrounded him as he walked through the streets earlier that day taking in the new scenes of the world that would soon be theirs. Women moved their babies away from the crew, men hesitated to keep walking, and kids pointed and whispered in awe. Attention that was not completely negative was foreign to him. Other world's would scream in fear and hatred as soon as their ships landed. But at the same time, Earth was so very unaware how things go when it came to him.

Washington D.C was busy as people filed into the House Chambers for the primal meeting. Kylo pushed past a few representatives of Spain as he walked in, his build larger than anyone else's. He rolled his eyes. This was all unnecessary to him, but he let them have their fun. Tomorrow he would take what was his. What was owed to him for his shitty upcoming with Luke.

He leaned against the back wall as the meeting began. Everyone in the room was dressed in suits or pant suits or even dresses. Clothes here were much different than he was customed to. Listening was no priority of his because this damn gathering was equal to a child's birthday celebration in his eyes. Meaning that nothing was going to be accomplished.

You slipped in beside him holding five coffees on a tray. You glanced at the beast beside her but kept going. You could not afford to deliver cold coffees during such a crisis. Your job depended on it. American representatives took the coffees wand practically shooed you away without a single thank you. Shoulders sagging, you went to walk back out to grab their sandwiches.

Kylo watched the encounter with confusion. They took the coffees without even looking at you, and you were somehow okay with it? His people served him but that's because he was in charge. He didn't say thank you, didn't need to. But these low lives? What possible status could they have? One among hundreds at a meeting. Earth was odd because it was divided, different leaders ruling different areas. In his eyes it made Earth weak.

You were breathtakingly beautiful. Short hair framed your face, cascading to rest right about the shoulders. You looked unbelievably kind with your soft smile even though you just got treated like scum. You looked like a woman who should be Queen of a prosperous planet, not an unappreciated assistant of sorts.

"Come here." Kylo's voice caught not only your attention, but also the people's around you. Your eyes adverted to him, ghostly pointing a finger at yourself in confusion.

"M-me?"

"Yes, you, come."

You sheepishly trudged over, terrified that the Supreme Leader would kill you. His hair fell over some of his face as he looked expectantly down at you. You went to kneel in front of him but his gloved hand grabbed your bicep.

"State your position."

"Assistant, sir."

He clicked his tongue in amusement at you calling him sir. Such a beauty in a shitty place. Your voice was soft and unsure. It made his hard exterior slightly melt away. His mother once told him when he was a young boy that you only truly fall in love once. That your soul only binds completely with another one single time. Woman usually were not that desirable to him. He would have sex with them but he never cared about them. He was already interested in you.

"Seems beneath you. Follow me."

You swallowed heavily at the order, but before you could protest his knights were crowding behind you. A silent demand that you comply to their leader's wish. You sighed. Today was simply not your day. A black ship was parked outside in the yard, white armored Storm Troopers surrounding it. They stared at you earlier when you had walked past to deliver coffee. Not friendly folks, you presumed. Kylo waved his two fingers and his guard dogs shifted, allowing a clear path to the entrance ramp.

Kylo walked in first and turned around, leaning against the wall. Apparently that was his usual. Yet again his fingers moved to signal his knights away. They nodded their heads and in synch left down the ramp to guard themselves. His dark hair flowed slightly against the light breeze.

"Earth is a pitiful thing." He declared, "Technology is far behind other planets, no alien species habitat the area, and the people here? They are senseless. My troops could destroy this place."

You sighed, "I am not a leader. I cannot discuss terms with you. Leaders are in the room you just took me out of."

He rolled his eyes at your lack of understanding. He wanted you to understand that he was tolerating Earth for the day, but he wanted to more than tolerate you.

"I do not wish to discuss terms with you." Your eyes snapped to his. You had been in many situations where you had zero power. You were to listen and do what was told because the people you work for are above you. In charge. While you work your ass off and still are struggling to announce yourself as a successful woman. Again, Kylo Ren was way way way above you on terms of authority. Being an assistant woman on Earth is no comparison to the handsome and aggressive man before you.

"Why then...?"

"Why what? Say it." His voice was demanding and goosebumps traveled down your arms and surely to your legs too.

"Why did you bring me here? Oh no.. am I going to die to set an example? Of course this is the karma for not picking up that Hitchhiker the other day. Paranoia is what gets me killed... Mom would be proud." You rambled to yourself, hands running down your face in frustration.

Kylo shook his head no, not liking that you assumed the worst of him, "I am not killing you. Tell me your name."

"Y/N."

He hummed in appreciation of your name, never hearing it before. It somehow suited you perfectly. He nodded, "I'm Kylo."

You nervously barked out a laugh, "Yes. Kylo Ren. I am aware of that, infact the whole world is. Did I do something to disrespect you earlier?"

"You were disrespected."

This took you by surprise. The lethal Kylo Ren, Supreme Leader of the First Order, Han and Leia's only heir was pressed at how you were treated by your asshole bosses. Being a moderately pretty woman gained you attention from time to time, but catching his eye was beyond you. Unknown to you Kylo was reading your mind. It was easy to slip into.

Kylo was stunned that you referred to yourself as moderately pretty. In his eyes you were the most beautiful being his brown eyes landed on. Maybe it was his Mother's tale about soulmates that was getting to him. He considered this very carefully. He did know you or your soul, but could the force be giving him a hint that you would be his one life partner? Either way he was not letting you rot here.

"Not really. It comes with the job because that's how things work around here." You retorted, glancing outside to see people looking in at you. An elderly man stood on the skirts of the lawn, worrying that you were in harm's way. You offered a wave followed by a thumbs up and it was enough because he continued on.

"Do you think you deserve to be treated as such?"

"I'm a hard worker but so are millions of people who get the short end of the stick."

Kylo rolled his eyes and pointed outside, "Blowing this place up may be considered a favor. This is the supposed greatest country's capital and there are homeless here."

"Anyone can be poor anywhere. Earth has it's flaws, sir, but I can assure you that there is good here." You crossed your arms in a defying manner. This was your home.

"Good and bad are not definite, both coexist in a complicated manner. Whoever disagrees is an imbecile." He snarled, hand hitting the wall in anger. Both at you defending Earth and for not listening to him.

How could you defend a planet that was full of selfish pricks who were living lavishly with billions of dollars while more poor swarmed the streets than flies. Kylo took care of his people once they were under his rule. The First Order elegantly supported struggling citizens according to need. Earth seemed like a waste of his time. It only infuriated him at how poorly it was doing.

"What do you want from me?" You quietly asked. Escaping was impossible. Troops surrounded the ship and Kylo Ren was said to be stubborn.

"Power comes with loneliness, Y/N. Consulting with my officers leaves me in a position to be weak. Being weak revolts me. As beautiful as you may be, you are weak."

You scoffed in disbelief, "Excuse me?"

His body moved to surrounded yours like a lion going after a gazelle. His body pinned you, hands rested close to your head against the solid black wall, "You are weak. You take shit from worthless money makers with no true value. Earth raised you this way. But I am here to change that. You will be more."

"More?"

"Yes. We can help one another. For you, I will give you power. No longer will those beneath you take you for granite." His voice was stern like he had all the answers in a tiny book that only he had access to.

"Yeah? What about you, Supreme Leader?"

"Glad you asked. I need someone to confide in without the risk of being overthrown. The force within me senses trust and loyalty. Simply words are what I require from you."

Compromises rarely proved helpful in your case. Set backs always trailed along with them like a loose string on an old sweater. Untangled until nothing but scraps were left. Kylo Ren was a snake. A successful murderer who worked for his cause alone. But what did you have to lose at this point? Your family shut you out after you moved away, you were really too busy for friends, and certainly busy enough to not have a significant other. Leaving Earth behind did not sound that bad. Not when what was offered was appreciation in turn for treating a someone like a decent human being.

"Okay. On one condition."

Kylo's head leaned down so that he was looking into your eyes, "Go on."

"Protect Earth instead of destroying it. I'm not dumb, this place has shitty people but there are simple pleasures that I want maintained. Old tribes, trains, caramel candy, the cultures, high school baseball games, fireworks, cows in pastures, and dogs. Dogs are so very sweet and we don't deserve them. Just please..."

Kylo leaned away from you, crossing his strong arms over his chest. Your eyes tried to look as pleading as possible. He didn't want to give in. Earth was pretty annoying and it being wiped out of the sky would please him to an outrageous extent. But the way you were asking so nicely with every ounce of his heart, he contemplated it. Not to mention that it meant he would finally have someone to talk real conversations with.

"Deal."

[chaos-burst]

Since Taliesin said that Molly would never even consider seducing Caleb bc Damage™, what about a fic called "When you're ready"

Caleb isn’t sure how it happened, even though he knows exactly when it started.

What he knows is this:

Mollymauk has been flirting with him. Caleb knows this because he has watched him for a very long time, flirting with other people, winking, swishing his tail playfully, licking his lips when he is interested in someone. Caleb has catalogued every movement, every expression, every dip of Mollymauk’s voice when he speaks with someone he finds attractive.

His memory is flawless.

So when Mollymauk’s voice dips lower when he tells Caleb that his newest spell in impressive, Caleb knows. It’s in the way Mollymauk’s eyes linger on his face and how he smiles--almost absentmindedly--when he watches Caleb read in the corner of an inn while everyone else is drinking and having fun.

What Caleb also knows is:

Mollymauk always goes for what he wants. So it doesn’t make any sense that he would simply keep looking and smiling and flirting without ever getting physical. Without ever making innuendo that would suggest the two of them having sex. Mollymauk is very careful about the way he touches Caleb and it’s never suggestive. Never makes Caleb uncomfortable--as if Mollymauk has done all the calculations, has catalogued Caleb’s reactions to being touched in different ways, and then proceeds to stay in his lane.

Mollymauk Tealeaf, by definition of his very being, never stays in his lane.

Except when it comes to Caleb Widogast, it seems.

Caleb is a very smart man, but he has no idea what is going on. He’s able to understand the most complicated concepts, the most difficult types of magic, mathematical equations, elaborate grammatical structures of languages long dead. But he cannot for the life of him figure out one chaotic disaster of a Tiefling.

At this point, Caleb is sure he understands Jester better than he understands Mollymauk, and that is a feat he never hoped to accomplish when they first started traveling together.

It has been almost 15 months since Mollymauk came back from the grave a second time. It has been almost 14 months since Mollymauk started flirting with Caleb.

And in those 14 months not once has he tried to kiss Caleb, or put his clawed hands on Caleb’s thighs, or pushed him into a wall again, like he did so long ago in those catacombs.

It took Caleb 6 months to understand that he is, in fact, helplessly in love with Mollymauk Tealeaf.

But Caleb is still Caleb.

And of course it takes drastic measures to push Caleb over the edge.

What happens is this:

For all his work with fire, Caleb is still helpless when confronted with it. He throws flames around like it is nothing, he builds walls of fire and throws flaming spheres across battlefields. His own fire never burns him, but other people are just as adapt as him sometimes.

So when the flaming strike shoots towards him Caleb thinks for just a second that it is poetic justice that he is going to die just like his parents did. He can hear the twin screams of Jester and Beauregard.

Then a body wraps around him, a familiar, solid body covered in scars. Soft hair tickles him in the face for just a moment as Mollymauk--stupid, impulsive, self sacrificial Mollymauk Tealeaf--puts himself between Caleb and the flames.

Caleb’s panic engulfs him like a raging storm when the heat gets almost unbearable, but Mollymauk is still standing, still hugging Caleb close to his chest, as if his life depended on it. His brain is short circuiting, he can feel the panic creeping at the back of his mind when he smells burning flesh, but his brain also provides him with one completely ridiculous fact:

This is the first time Mollymauk has hugged him.

When the flames stop coming Mollymauk shudders around him and his grip loosens, before he stumbles to his knees.

“Mollymauk”, Caleb rasps. “What on--”

“Tiefling”, Mollymauk croaks and has the audacity to wink at Caleb. “Fire resistance, darling.”

Then he falls unconscious.

Caleb’s mind goes blank, because no, not again, not again, not again, not for him of all people.

Beauregard kills the man who threw fire at him with her bare hands. Caleb knows that he should probably fall into his catatonic state right now because of the smell and the sight of Mollymauk’s burned skin and--

Caleb has to ask him. He will not allow Mollymauk to die yet again, because how often can they tempt fate and bring people back from the dead? Caleb cannot know for sure, so he has to ask. He needs to know. He wants to understand.

He is there when Mollymauk opens his eyes the next day. The pale sunlight filtering through the milky windows makes his purple skin look strangely pale. Caleb looks at all the faint, thin scars on his upper torso, his neck, his arms. What a reckless way of fighting, he thinks, to hurt yourself in favor of making someone else suffer.

To hurt yourself so others might get away.

Caleb swallows.

“Hey, Mr Caleb”, Mollymauk says with an almost smile. “You ok?”

Caleb scoffs.

“I did not get burned to a crisp.”

“Funny how that works, huh?”

Caleb stares at him.

“Why?”, he asks bluntly. Before he can chicken out again, he has to ask. Mollymauk blinks at him slowly and it reminds Caleb so much of Frumpkin that he feels a smile tug at his lips. Damn it. He is so painfully in love with this ridiculous man, he almost can’t bear it.

Almost.

“Well, I told you, Mr Caleb. I’m fire resistant--”

“No. That is not what I mean. Why--why do you... What do you want from me, Mollymauk?”

It sounds harsher than Caleb had anticipated and he can see Mollymauk’s face fall. He watches as Mollymauk swallows and turns his head away, then takes a deep, controlled breath before his red eyes find Caleb’s face.

“Ah”, he says and manages a crooked smile. “We’re talking about that now, huh?”

“You almost died. Again. I feel like it is foolish not to speak about those things if you might just be dead again tomorrow.”

Molly nods slowly and swallows again. 

“To be honest, I’m not sure what you want to hear. I know that you know how I feel about you. So what exactly is it that you want to talk about?”

Caleb’s heart stumbles in his chest and he balls his hands into fists.

“I--Why? Why do you--what--”

“Caleb”, Mollymauk says and Caleb stops his stuttering. He closes his mouth and it costs him every drop if willpower to keep his eyes on Mollymauk’s face.

“I’ll say this once, ok? Because honestly, telling the truth is just exhausting, but I guess I can manage for you. I am very much in love with you, Mr Caleb. Maybe you think that’s ridiculous, maybe you even think I’m not that bad, maybe you don’t care at all. Who knows. I certainly don’t! But I know what kind of guy you are, yeah? I know you have... your baggage. That’s fine with me. All I’m saying is. I’m here. If, or you know. When you’re ready.”

Caleb stares at him. He’s not sure he heard correctly.

“You--I--”

“Yes. Also, don’t think about complaining because I saved your life. You can just buy me a drink or two. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Don’t tell Beau I told you so, or she’ll hit me again.”

Caleb feels like he should comment on Mollymauk’s confession. Say anything. But his throat is dry and his heart is hammering in his chest so hard, Caleb is sure it might just fly out of his rib cage. Damn this ridiculous man.

Maybe he can just tell Mollymauk that he doesn’t mind the flirting. That he is in fact in love with Mollymauk as well. Because Mollymauk doesn’t know and still he flirts and he is waiting.

The corners of his eyes are burning and none of those words come out.

“I will... I will get back to you with... with that”, he croaks and it’s definitely the most stupid answer to a love confession the world has ever seen. Shame washes over Caleb like a tidal wave. But Mollymauk smiles at him.

“That’s fine, Mr Caleb. When you’re ready”, he repeats. 

“When I’m... Ja. Ja, ok.”

[accio-victuuri]

M/M Book Recommendations Part III.

Title: The remaking of Corbin Wale

Author: Roan Parrish

My Thoughts:

This book is cozy. Just thinking about it makes me want to go back to the day I read this— Christmas time. Well, you don’ have to wait for Christmas to read this, just saying it’s that kind of book. Anyway, this story is about Alex who opens shop in his hometown. A fresh start and doing what he always wanted to, then one day the mysterious Corbin Wale comes in and changes everything. It’s one of those meet cutes that i’m a sucker for. ❤️ Alex gets to know Corbin, who seems to be followed by misfortunes and he also wants to know the truth about his drawings and who he really is. There is ALMOST no conflict between them, everything is so soft and nothing hurts. I like how Corbin changes, well, how they both change each other. That whole becoming a better person for someone you love thing. That’s it. If you want a sweet read, with just a tiny bit of ache then go for this.

Title: Shiver

Author: Jocelynn Drake

My Thoughts :

I read this book cause I was looking for the “bodyguard” trope. This one delivered. It’s simple, a really rich guy gets threatened and he gets a bodyguard to protect him. Only, he gets more than that 😏😏😏. This is book one of a series so you’ll get alot of other characters that you can get attached to, don’t worry, they will get their own books. It’s a fast read and one that you can pick up on a weekend and you’ll be set.

Title: Enemies of the State

Author: Tal Bauer

My Thoughts:

The President and his Bodyguard fall in love. That’s the selling point of this book BUT THIS IS SO MUCH MORE THAN THAT. Tal Bauer is an intelligent author and this one reads like a Netflix series that just happens to have an mlm pair. You have the in’s and out’s of the White house, politics, Russia, power dynamics, discrimination and terrorists. President Jack Spier is an American hero, who lost his wife in a War. He stayed single and spent his years in Politics, no scandals all his life and the perfect man to take the seat of a Leader. Then Ethan, a seasoned security detail gets assigned to him. This has the friends to lovers trope that makes you want to scream. The slow burn. The misunderstanding. Forbidden love with high as fuck stakes. THE ANGST. The hurt/comfort!!!!! I want all my ships to have an AU of this book 😭😭 Plus, the EXPLICIT scenes are just that. Explicit. HOT. What smut writers aim for HOT. 😂 Alot of things happen in this one book so be ready, there is almost something cinematic about this. You’ll understand once you’ve read it. This is book 1 of a Trilogy. You’re welcome. 🖤

Title: Twelfth Knight

Author: Victoria Sue

My Thoughts :

Merlin and Arthur. Need I say more? Yes. This story is set in the modern world with Arthur and his Knights. It may not be for everyone, like i think some people want something more serious, but the easy pace and language can be enjoyable. Merlin’s promise to Arthur before he died. There is so much more in this world in the books to come and I hope more fantasy aspect and plot in the Mix.

Title: The Watchmaker of Filigree street

Author: Natasha Pulley

My Thoughts:

There is something about the setting about this book that made me feel nostalgic even if I have no idea about their timeline at all. The author just painted this world, it’s people and every scene so beautifully. This book starts with Thaniel and a bomb explosion / a mysterious watch. Then the Watchmaker, Mori. I can’t say too much without spoiling stuff, but the fantasy aspect of this is Clairvoyance. How it’s worked into this story in itself is almost heart breaking. 😭 One thing I didn’t like is who the Villain was. I guess I wanted this “person” to be a different character or be “used” in a better way. The pairing, Thaniel/Mori has the whole age gap thing going on — and Mori saying he has to be in London. Ugh. 😭😍 There’s a sequel that will come out this year and I am very excited.

Title: The Wolf and the Sparrow

Author: Isabelle Adler

My Thoughts:

This one is a standalone fantasy story and that in itself sold me. Add in the arranged marriage trope, AND MAAAAAAN. I’m all in. The main drivers of this story : the marriage, Callan grieving for his dead wife, Derek moving to this new kingdom and trying to fit in and A War that’s threatening all of them. I can’t even count the amount of “arranged” marriage fanfics I have read and this one seems fresh all over again. I love the relationship between the main characters and since it’s just one book- expect some insta love. There is a part in this story where they both get captured and I must say, it’s one of the best things I have read. That. Whole. Experience. Plus, when they do get together? IT WAS HOT. I knew it was coming, but it was so worth it. Even with all the “instalove”, there’s still a really good pay off. The fantasy part in this is not shown too much though. It could be expanded, I’m not gonna be mad if they suddenly announce a sequel. But yeah, If you want just one solid read, this is it.

Title: The Last Sun

Author: KD Edwards

My Thoughts :

So, this is one of those books that I put off reading all because everyone was saying it’s super good & I didn’t buy it. BUT I WAS SO WRONG. This book. This world is amazing. I have never read a book that has the whole “ Tarot Cards” as a main theme , and how it works into this book is the reason why I have always loved Fantasy books. This is Book 1 of a projected 9 book series and I am so excited how this will expand, I haven’t read the second book cause i wanna save it. I love the relationship between the two main characters, Rune and Brand. A scion and it’s sworn companion. Something about it reminds me of a bond like with a parabatai ( city of bones) . I love their banter. The characters in this are A+. LORD TOWER. Max. Quinn. Ciaran. ADDAM FUCKING SAINT NICHOLAS. You will get attached to them, I’m warning you. It’s a really solid fantasy/adventure story. Rune and Addam as a pair is so delicious, I find myself smiling every time they have scenes together. Their love, as it continues on will be SO PURE. I can see it. Do yourself a favor the same way I did, BUY THIS BOOK. Read it.

[lilyswritings]

Crush.

MAJOR SPIDER-MAN: FAR FROM HOME SPOILERS AHEAD! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

wakandahoesarethose requested: hun ﹐ your imagines are SO GOOD & i'm insanely craving angst rn . . could you please write something to do with FFH . I NEED ANGST . idkk — reader suppressing her feelings for pete bc she wants him & mj to be happy with each other . almost killed by mysterio ﹐ pete realising how much he actually likes her . & then FLUFF ! ( por favor ? )

anonymous requested: Please could you write a FFH imagine about the reader liking Peter but she tries to deny it because she knows that he has a thing for MJ . Reader almost gets killed by mysterio and Pete realises how much he actually likes her . A worried / protective Peter Parker fluff please

author’s note: i’m-! I love you both, thank you so much for sending something in. these were very similar requests so i figured i’d go ahead and put them together!! you wanted angst followed by fluff? (you know me so well) you got it ;) (actually pretty proud of this one)

wordcount: 1,763

Peter Parker x Reader

___________________________________________________

      After watching Peter look longingly at MJ the entire nine-hour flight, you’re about ready to lose it. Your original seating plan had suited you fine; you, Ned, and Peter in a row. The dream team. Then the whole ‘perfume allergy’ fiasco had resulted in a seating plan where MJ was sat next to Brad, Peter was next to Mr. Harrington, and Ned and Betty were together leaving you next to a passed-out Mr. Dell. Wonderful.

      You kept glancing back to Peter, wondering if there was some way to orchestrate another change that resulted in the two of you together, but in the end you decided against it. You can’t compete with the puppy-dog heart-eyes he kept throwing at MJ, anyway. You and Ned can be single and happy together.

      By the time you’re in Venice airport, however, in some Twilight Zone turn of events, Ned and Betty are dating. Which leaves you and Peter, as friends. 

      In Venice, Peter pulled you aside to help himbuy a necklace for MJ. A touching and incredibly romantic move that made your heart ache slightly at the recipient not being you. 

      Then the whole water monster thing had happened, Peter (or rather, Spider-Man - you and Ned had found out around the same time) had been visited by Nick Fury, and suddenly your summer travels were derailed by a crazy man in a cape with a hero-complex and very powerful life-threatening technology.

      Exactly what you’d imagined when you’d tried to make a plan to finally confess your feelings to your best friend... while he constantly tries to go after another girl. (You hadn’t planned that last bit - subsequently, that was what had made you give up on your plan in the first place. Peter and MJ could be really happy together, and who are you to stop the boy you love from being happy?)

      But now, as you stand below a double-decker bus on Tower Bridge and the skies grow dark and ominous as one of Mysterio’s illusions begins to encompass London, you can’t help but wonder whether keeping quiet was the right thing to do - if you die now, he’ll never know. 

      Your classmates scream as you all sprint along the bridge, dodging cars and pieces of debris that fall from the bridge. There’s a clash in your brain of the knowledge that this is an illusion and the feeling of wind whipping past your face and things hurtling towards you.

      You jump wildly to the side to avoid getting crushed by a falling piece of the bridge, eyes wide as the ground shakes where it landed. Hesitantly, you lower yourself into a crouch, shaking fingers outstretched, and touch the very solid piece of stone. That just fell right where you were standing. Okay, so the illusions are deadly and you’re all gonna die. Great.

      “We have to move!” MJ shouts, and you couldn’t agree more as you rise and begin to run along with the rest of the group. 

      After a few minutes of panicked running and making sure everyone is okay, your class finally reaches the end of the bridge and turns to look back.

      “It’s real.” You state in a hushed tone as your class pauses to look at the falling bridge, and both MJ and Ned turn to you with furrowed brows. 

      “No it’s not. It’s an illusion.” Ned says, and MJ nods along.

      “Yeah, I saw the tech.”

      You sigh. “Well, the threat is real. The tower is actually breaking, and…” You look over at the dark rolling clouds with violent flashes of lightning spiking out of them. “And I’m pretty sure that’s gonna hurt us too.”

      Your eyes dart down from the sky, where you spot a flash of red appear briefly above the creature - the illusion, you remind yourself - and your heart soars. “Peter.” His name falls off your lips in a hopeful whisper, and you glance over at Ned, who looks like he knows what you’re about to do.

      “No, Y/N, no, this is a bad idea-” He tries.

      “I have to. I have to help him.” You argue as he continues to shake his head.

      “You don’t have any powers, Y/N! Come on, this is gonna get you...” MJ’s argument dies off as she watches you take off towards the bridge. “Killed.”

      “Come back!” Ned shouts, but you keep sprinting into the destruction.

      There’s even more debris than before, and you have to keep darting your eyes around you to avoid the pieces falling and the ones already on the ground. You stop and look back up at the illusion, eyes widening in fear at how real it looks.

      Suddenly, there’s a flicker, and then the illusion begins to fade away, revealing the drones beneath, and the sight of Peter crouched on top of one in his Spider-suited-glory makes your heart soar. 

      And then your heart drops as Peter gets smacked out of the sky and plummets towards the ground, slamming into the hard concrete just in front of you.

     “Pete- Spider-Man!” You correct yourself, glancing around to ensure no one could hear his name. His head darts up to look at you, eyes on his mask wide, and you fill with concern as you notice him clutching his side.

      “What’re you doing here?” His voice is panicked, and when you finally reach him he stumbles back from you. “No, no, you can’t be here, you gotta go-”

      His head darts up suddenly and he launches himself upwards away from you as drones fly towards him. “You’re not safe!” He shouts over the commotion as the drones begin to fire, causing you to duck behind a car as Peter steadily heads towards the opposite bridge, where you can now spot an outline of a man behind the glass. Mysterio.

      You glance upwards, looking into the glass panels of the bridge Beck is hiding in. You can see him, and the drones surrounding him, as well as Peter’s figure entering the opposite end of the room. You see Peter stalking towards Beck, and then a whirlwind of action as his red outline darts from drone to drone, steadily moving towards Mysterio.

      You see Beck double over and fall down, and you clench your jaw as you notice the drones all stop firing. Peter’s done it, you think.

      What you don’t see is Beck smirk grimly as the E.D.I.T.H. glasses finally get a scan of your face, giving him your location, and you don’t hear him order the A.I. to kill you, nor do you see the absolute terror that seizes Peter when he hears the dying man’s command. 

      What you do see is all the remaining drones in your vicinity suddenly halt midair and whirl around to lock onto you. Your eyes widen as they all begin to fly towards you, and a curse escapes your lips as you turn to sprint the other direction.

      Peter hears you curse and turns just in time to watch the car you’d been hiding behind get blown up in a fiery explosion.

      “NO!” He screams in horror, panic seizing him as he shoots a web and swings through the broken glass panels, over to where he’d seen you last, which is now all smoking remains. Nothing could have survived that. “No, no, no…” He mutters as he pulls his mask off, vaguely registering Happy’s voice questioning him on the other end of the comms.

      His spider-sense alerts him to movement near him, and he whips his head to the side just in time to see your arm shoot out from under a car and drag yourself out. You’re covered in dirt, your face is scraped and bleeding, but you’re so alive he could cry with relief.

      Which he almost does.

      Your name escapes his lips as you shakily push yourself up into a standing position, and you nod tearily. You surge forward to meet him as he rushes towards you, arms outstretched, and both of you let out sobs of relief as you wrap your arms around each other. 

      “You’re alive. You’re okay.” Peter says, more of a reassurance to himself than anything else, and you nod against the crook of his neck.

      He stands back, suddenly, scanning your face, and the fear and panic of the previous moments overtakes you, and you open your mouth to finally confess what’s been on your mind this entire time. 

      “I think I’m in love with you.” Peter blurts.

      You blink, eyebrows furrowing, and his face falls as he tries to backtrack. “I mean- Um, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-”

      You silence him by leaning over and pressing your lips to his.

      When you pull back, a goofy grin spreads over his face. “And... you kissed me.” He says, like he can’t believe it.

     “Pete, I’ve had a crush on you since like two years ago. But I didn’t think you’d like me back.” You admit shyly, and he entwines his hand with yours.

      “Are you kidding me? You’re so smart, and brave, and so beautiful, and-” He rambles, then shakes his head and cuts himself off as a pink tinge rises to his cheeks. “I thought I didn’t have a chance with you.” 

      You laugh at the absurdity of the mutual pining, placing your other hand on the back of Peter’s neck. “I’m in love with you too.” You say, touching your forehead to his, and you can almost feel the joy that radiates off of him.

      “...Cool.” He says after a moment, and a laugh bursts from your lips at his reply before he gently seals his lips to yours once more.

      When you finally pull away, you squeeze his hand. “I should get back to the class.” You say, breathless, and he nods dazedly. 

      “I should…” He gestures back towards the way he came, holding up his Spider-Man mask, and you nod, a smile stretching your cheeks. 

      You turn to go, nearly letting go of his hand, but he suddenly tugs you back towards him, drawing a startled yelp from you, and plants another kiss on your lips. 

      You smile against him, your hands coming up to rest on his chest. “Okay, I really have to go now. We have plenty of time for this later.” You giggle, and he nods. 

      “Okay. Yeah. Good.” Peter stammers, letting go of your hand as you walk a few steps away.

      “I love you!” You call back to him, watching with pride as he ducks his head and his ears burn a bright pink. 

      “I love you too.” He replies, tugging on his mask and shooting a web at the tower, and you release an enamored sigh as you watch him swing off into the distant London skyline.

________________________________

taglist: @magical-fandoms // (message me to be added!)

[kaiju-z]

Seon Adventures Episode 21:  Two Days

Following the strange sighting of a shadow not being cast by Mournimar, and yet being close to the Tiefling Ranger, Luctan took some time before finding his rest. With legs crossed and hands in a position, the disguised tiefling closed his eyes... And meditated for what felt to him like an eternity...

Whatever had gone on in his vision, the incognito fighter took an hour before going to bed. And then, by the time the sun began to rise, he had taken the elf baby boy with him and left, with only a note hinting at where he had gone.

“I’m off shopping with the baby. Brb.”

Mournimar is the one to find said note and, given the last note he had to read involved the other martial combatant’s exit, he can’t help but feel that seperation anxiety kick in harder, with Belli out of town with Ficus right now and the only other person in the party he was close with now being out of reach.

Malak has a more peaceful morning awakening, having yet to acclimate to the party fully, while Amelia?

Amelia wakes to another cup of coffee on the nightstand beside her. And a note of her own to read, from Nel specifically, though. Nel had left on a business arrangement.

All the mysterious party pals going off with letters, it seems.

The three remaining guests (and their respective animals) convene downstairs in the kitchen, having themselves a breakfast as best they can prepare. Toast, made by Malak.

And, uh, bacon???! By Mournimar?!

“I is bacon supposed to have that weird-I’m sure it’s fine. “ (This is even funnier when you consider he’s lived in the woods for years.)

It goes without saying that Belli is the cook the Cultbusters not only need, but deserve.

While they enjoy their breakfast, to the best of their abilities, the caped fighter is on the move. Not so much grocery shopping as person searching.

First try at the temples of the gods doesn’t bear him any fruits, but he most definitely soon finds the one he’s after soon enough, by revisiting the house of the cultist of Zarahm.

A few knocks pass, before the door opens and Luctan is met face to face with the very man Belli convinced to turn himself and his husband in. Luctan is allowed inside and the two fellows hold a conversation, involving the passing of a note, the contents of which are unknown.

Luctan learns about the man’s husband, what fate befell him after the arrest and, it was as expected. The cruelties and evil he had commited against his fellow people had brought the final judgement on him.

The now widowed man had made a decision for his future. To leave Crystalgate and take to the road, travel and, gods willing, do something with himself. Luctan is certainly in agreement with this course of action and proceeds to deliver a certain speech, encouraging the widower to follow a certain path, on his travels.

“I ask this, because, well. Life is short. And… like I said, I believe in second chances. Up until recently, that faith I had was in a severe state of quaking, where solid footing wouldn’t allow me to proceed ahead. No chance for peace and all that. But then I read a book, related to my own woes and... that gave me perspective on how to proceed ahead.

“It’s no holy text, I assure you. It’s-It’s actually this-“ And Luctan would bring out the Handerstaad and show the cover to the man with the fine beard. ”Kheyha’s story gave me a chance to find perspective in what I’m doing. What I’m planning on doing with my life and how I can zig, where I normally would have just zagged blindly ahead.”

When questioned by the shorter man at what he’s getting at, Luctan explains:

“ What I’m trying to establish here, sir, is that, while I still believe in punishments for crimes, I also believe that, given the chance and opportunity presenting itself, where the perpetrator feels remorse and regret and a genuine want to do something about it, pay off a non-monetary debt to those they’ve wronged? They should take it. Be allowed to take it and do the best they can out there in the far and wide, within and beyond these stone walls.”

“How would you like to turn your life around and help those in need, for a change?”

With the man ingesting the contents of the note, Luctan would offer the man a soft smile.

“You know, I find the best way to atone for someone’s past is to help someone’s future... You’re a religious man. One, who followed one deity at one point, before things went down the old turd hole.”Luctan would rub be back of his neck awkwardly, some, before reaching a hand forward to the husband. “Dare you believe in another and do yourself and the world favors without any payback in turn? For your own sake and that of those around you...”Luctan would smile. “Dare you redeem yourself? Dare you be just?”

“Take your leave from this land. With your possessions and memories and travel. Meet people, help people, spread the word that there is hope, out there... Young and developing in it’s abilities as we all are. And never take a life lightly again. Regardless of what a loved one considers.”

These were Luctan’s words.

But before he made his exit... He doubled down on what he meant. As he revealed the little one he carried in his arm. He would explain the story of the child and how he got from the trail road, all the way to the widower’s home today.

Tragedy of loss and next to no chance onward. Luctan would share how he was uncertain for the longest time where to leave him, as he couldn’t find his extended family.

He couldn’t leave him with the rich, for they would spoil him too bad and he had certtain experiences with that, growing up. And he couldn’t leave him with a temple, for he would be raised with someone else’s values, as opposed to the ones he could learn for himself.

No.

Just like the widower.

This child needed a new lease on life.

And Luctan offered the young one to the husband. To take him. To raise him on the road. For the two of them to go and help and grow together, as people.

The man was, to say the least, stupified at what had transpired. For he and his husband had always wanted a child, even when they didn’t have the means to. And for him to have this chance now-he was greatful.

Luctan would pass him over, along with the young one’s possessions and then some (30 gold given to the fellow, for a good travel). And he would have a word with his little traveling companion. As hard as it was for him to keep a strong face during the whole thing.

“H-hey, little one. It’s me, Luctan again. I, ah. Okay, I knew this moment was going to come eventually, but I didn’t expect it to be so soon, to come so fast. I, ah. Yeah, this is where we’re parting ways. I don’t know if what we’ve done so far, with you on board will come back to you in some form. Whether a relative, close or distant, will come to pick you up or you’ll be adopted within the next few months or years, but... – sigh- I want you to know this. Even if it’s a far off memory in the back of your head, little one, I want you to keep this in there, eh?

Life is... short. And for some far shorter than expected. But life is also long, oh so very long. And if what I know about elves is correct, you’ll be around for long enough to see little Rimefang grow into a beautiful adult one day. Hells, you might even end up riding him.

But I digress. You will grow up one day. You will have a life of your own, meet people that make you happy and people that make you sad and. Choices will be made, right?

... I guess what I’m trying to get at here is that, I wish for you to do the best you can out there. Whether you take the adventurer’s life or settle to a respectable profession like a carpenter, or glassblower, or hey! Even an enchanter, like ol’ Peppery Pete. Oh. Whoah, now that I think about it, you’ll probably get to interact with him eventually. For centuries. Gnomes and all that.

And when that happens, I want you to do the best you can. Not be as good as the next best guy, right? Be better, be kinder. You don’t have to be a hero. You can be a helper. Not everyone needs a monster slain or a band of rogues decimated.  Sometimes… sometimes you need to be a shoulder. An ear. A mouth for someone else. To support, to listen, to tell them that it’s going to be okay, while you wrap them up in a blanket and bring them to safety.

There are a ton of us out there. Not enough helpers, who could prevent people from going down the wrong path before they even get it suggested to them.

And when those times come in your life, whether you think of me or not, I’ll be there. Physically, maybe not. But in spirit, in the literal sense, if I can. When times seem darkest and hope seems lost, I will be there, at your side to give you that encouraging shoulder. That ear. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll chant a word or a few from my mouth.

I’ll always be there for you little one. May all the luck be in your favor.”

Luctan would then lean down and kiss the little one’s forehead, before removing the cloth from around his neck and passing it over to the baby. There’s a little something there, on the inside, for the baby to search for when he becomes of age. “That” and a similar letter to the one he gave the elf boy’s new father.

And Luctan would leave.

A few blocks down he’d hide around a corner and cry onto his knees. He had formed an attachment towards the little one. for all his attempts to avoid that, he really had gotten to care for the kid, damn it!

He would eventually return to the Shadowspire Mannor, groceries in his arms. And the others would note the lack of baby. And understand what went down.

Malak would offer his services on investigating the identity of the bartender, but Mournimar, for some reason, opted out of that line of thought. For one reason or another, the ranger had chosen not to pusue that course of action.

Malak, in stead, then takes the three on a tour around town.

Somewhere along the way, through the line of conversations, the party learn that Malak has an ability to make someone appear dead, without them actually being dead.

(What we learn, I think both OOC and IC that is how he goes to bed)

To prove his claim, he casts the spell on Amelia.

With the tieflings freaking out, Malak just dispells his magic on the Air Genasi monk and Amelia expresses, from an odd place of comfort, how she loved the experience.

Possibly due to this series of events, Malak leads the others to another location.

An establisshment called the “ “Nature’s Bounty” café. A café, where people can sit back and relax alongside comfort animals, which they can feed, if they so fancy and are encouraged to.

Expecting it to smell of animals, it quickly dons on everyone, who isn’t Malak, that it smells very aromatic, like a spa of sorts. Everything seems built for comfort and peace, with the color theme involving pink and green as the main two standing out colors.

Within the room the four + Morgan find themselves, a bald woman (all, who work here seem to be bald as a means of cleanliness around the animals) stands with a raven on her shoulder and a number of animals around her. Among them: 3 cats, 1 weasel, 1 rabbit, 1 deer and 1 large Mastiff dog.

Malak goes straight for the bunny.

Amelia immediately goes to the deer. The deer is nice and boops her hand.

Mournimar sits with Morgan. He waits for animals to come to him, while Morgan seems on edge around all these creatures. You know. With him being a DIRE WOLF and all that. For his troubles, Morgan gets pats and rolls over, getting belly rubs.

As though sensing the initial anxiety, the mastiff sits up next to the floofy newcommer and they bump heads and sit next to each other.

So yeah.

Morgan made a buddy!

The bunny is regal and proud as he gets the gentle pats and scritches. “Yes, I deserve this for existing. I’m a rabbit, for I am perfect.”Snoot twitch.

Luctan feels something running up his leg and the weasel comes up, popping out from inside his his armor. The little one gets real coasy and friendly with the enamored tiefling and nuzzles him but good, all the while Mournimar casts speak with animals, so he can understand what the weasel would be saying to all this.

Much to his shock. The weasel speaks in a New Jersey accent. And is using Luctan to get treats. Though luctan ignores the warning and just feeds the little bugger anyways, because come on! Leetl creecher, deserving of pats!

The weasel soon gets to rest on a fitting cushion with a blanket.

Amelia is walked over by 3 cats + Deer. Lost in the sauce.

With Archie being left at home, Amelia’s player makes a D100 roll.  on a roll of 77 from 100, Archie totes didn’t steal from Nel’s pantry.

And the gang have themselves a nice sip for an affordable price.

Splitting off from the group,later on,  Malak asks at the dungeons whether they have the cultist’s equipment there, his cultist stuff for Zarahm.

They’ve collected a symbol in a cerulean color and other symbols in association with Zarahm. They’ve collected the dagger, because it was giving a magical aura and some non-related stuff.

Malak thanks the cops and then casts Locate Object for related stuff to Zarahm. He catches a couple of blips across the city, namely one close to the Nature Bound Café, on it’s eastern side and one below the FM

With Mournimar being woken up from a peaceful sleep in the room and Amelia giving a smooch to the head of each and every animal, Luctan goes off and sells the monster heads offscreen for a price of 300 gold, thanks to a good Persuasion roll.

And the trio soon reconfigure with Malak, outside, and head off on wherever their legs will take them next.

Mournimar keeps an eye out, curiously, something that gets noticed by Malak and then Amelia. While Luctan just notices nothing.

He spots on the pavement next to a door a shoddy house. The symbol he’s looking for is there. There’s a symbol of Potencia on a door. Everyone, but Luctan catches onto it.

A cautious, but determined  Malak wants to know why they’re here. Him being the cleric to a legal deity, this seems incredibly off to him for a place to be.

Mournimar suggests he had a “gut feeling” at the time. That this place not only existed, but that they should investigate it. And stop a cultist of Potencia’s, by any means, including killing.

Morality comes into question over this decision and Malak suggests they shouldn’t worry about the implications of busting into someone’s home in this particular situation. As a Potenciate’s death would be presented with much grattitude.

Malak opens the door and-

And inside, at a table, sits an older woman with thin gray hair.

Before anything else can happen, as Malak leads the others inside, he casts Zone Of Truth and asks her about the symbol and what it is to her.

The old woman, failing her save, admits that at some point back in the day she made a deal with Potencia.

Her husband was an abuser. She implies that he had killed their son and that she made a deal with Potencia for strength to kill him in turn. And so she did. But after that, she hadn’t done much after.

She doesn’t regret her choice and Luctan and Amelia tend to agree with this statement. Vocally. (Not sure if Amelia saved or not, but Luctan failed on the Wisdom save and wasn’t even sure he was under a spell at the time. So he was just compelled to speak his mind more than he has usually done).

Before anything else could happen, Malak asks her if she harbors any other Potencia cultists in here. She truthfully answers no. No one, but Stuffins the cat.

“He’s a bald, wrinkly old bastard.”

Luctan asks Mournimar how they got here to begin with. Who Mournimar talked to, in order to get the general viscinity of a Potencia pact maker.

Mournimar, in turn, suggests that he spoke with someone called “Jorzoth.” ANd he believes this “Jorzoth” told him to kill this woman?! Which to Malak’s ears came off as music.

He reached for the old woman, demanding to take her with them, one way or another.

Luctan gets in between the two and tries to keep a conversation going.

But before he can even finish his alloud thought, he gets put under the Hold Person spell and freezes in place. T-Posing as the last thing he physically did was try and create space between the cleric and the... uh... shall we say warlock? Sure. Let’s call Agatha (her name is Agatha) a Warlock.

Malak wants this old woman dead or brought to justice.

Half-heartedly, Amelia makes a swing for him, but misses. She doesn’t really want to cause him any harm and just tries to appear to his kindness and perspective. Given his background and all that. Malak, instead, flips the script on Amelia, regarding the situation they find themselves in.

Mournimar screams in Infernal and asks Jorzoth what he’s supposed to do.

No answer.

He instead begs his “friends”  to free Luctan.

The old lady, who has Amelia step before her to protect her, makes a big show of threatening Malak with an enchanted knife, maybe her pact weapon, and that’s about it.

Malak attempts to bring her down with one move altogether, what we know as Inflict Wounds and Malak as “Inflict Vibes”.

But for some reason he misses.

Luctan tries to speak and begs Malak to stop and rethink his course of action. But Malak, based on who knows what from his experiences, doesn’t accept this.

Amelia continues with the appeal, while Mournimar tries to call forth the help of the two he had befriended. Jorzoth and the other. At a Nat 22 Religion roll, Mournimar gets his wish and contacts whomever it is he was in contact with.

He suddenly screams out in protest:  “Guys! Can we not fight!” and steps to Malak, touching his cheek with one hand. Trying to talk him down.

Malak doesn’t take well to the familiarity Mournimar tries to apply, given that he has only known the Ranger for about a day and a half by this point.

As Malak tries to and fail to hit the old woman with the Vibes spell,  Mournimar manages to persuade Agatha to change her alleigiences towards Mournimar’s friends.

Be it due to frustration, fatigue or a sense of defeat, due to being outvoted or what have you, Malak drops the Hold Person spell he had on Luctan and proceeds to step out, heading back to the temples.

Luctan follows after him, leaving Amelia and Mournimar to pick up whatever the hell they want the situation to be in the house of the once allied with Potencia woman.

Apologies are had and Mournimar and Amelia meet Stuffins, the cat. Mournimar gives the old woman some gold and makes his leave, following the trail of Luctan and Malak, while Amelia stays to have a heart to heart with the woman, included with it sharing some personal information that she hasn’t with the rest of the party.

As she makes her own exit...

We cut to the Narah Mannor. As Belli and Ficus arrive with Kevin and Killer. Once inside the grounds, Belli is practically sprinting inside and to her parents’ bedroom, determined to get this done.

Once they reach the familiar sight, now at a different time of day, they ponder on how to do this. Should they apply it one person at a time or one potion per person?! They were uncertain, though Ficus would make the eventual suggestion they try with their father first.

Bob Narah, a massive mountain of a man.

After some trial and error involving the ammount of potion necessary, they succeed in de-paralyzing him. As his body takes on it’s original state, the large orc drops to all fours, able to breathe for the first time in five years.

Clutching his hair and his face, he makes a first, pivotal realization. “My hair’s greasy as balls.”

“Dad?” Belli gets her father’s attention and as the man’s eyes set on her, he first mistakes his full grown daughter for Keemis. But then, she corrects him. And together with Ficus, help him up and out of the room.

Now in the family office, Harold gets caught up on events and explains from his perspective what happened, before the old lights went out in his head. The last thing he remembered was someone running in and yelling. That’s all he could think of the time, after sending Belli off to her given task.

There is a pause that follows. Long and uncomfortable. And awkward. Someone has to pierce that pause and break through the skin and organs to let the innards flow out. All this pressure being too much, a release necessary.

It’s Belli. Belli speaks.

Belli catches him up on what happened after that moment. She tells him every bit. Every. Single. Bit in detail. How she tried. To bring all of them home. Confused and alone, worried, scared. And the panic she went into when she “broke” Rona, Harold’s wife. Belli and Ficus’ mom.

All this is too much for her as she breaks down crying. Ficus applies a hand on her shoulder for support  as the remainder of the story is told, from where she left off. How she had been living for the past few years, day by day. First from home, then on the road, in taverns and the like, making money for herself.

She blames herself for “killing” her mom. That pain, that guilt, still having such a powerful grip on this mighty bard.

The feelings are raked up to 11. Belli being able to be so vulnerable right now with her confession and emotional pain.

Fighting through tears, she shares of the events that transpired after. The cultists in Bavorum, the formation of the Cultbusters, the battle in the Death Cult’s strongholds, the travels, Sa Doma, everything!

For Belli, of all his kids to take to the life of an adventurer? Why, Harold was immencely proud, all things considered. He is in awe of his little girl. His youngest, now at 17 years of age.

As things calm down some, the two have themselves a big ol’ embrace.

Harold then notices Ficus all the better. He looks. He thinks and he has a confrontation with Ficus, given how things went between them last they saw each other.

Belli steps in. And takes to defend her brother’s actions, explaining why he left. She stands her ground and gives a heartfelt examination of his motives, without holding back on the jabs at his Wisdom on the matter.

Ficus, on his end, awkwardly explains what he had been through i nthe time since and. Further emotions are had. It’s-He had been through so much, ok?!

And then Belli starts spilling tea on Ficus and his Special SomeoneTM(Luctan). A horrified and redfaced Ficus tries to make a run for it, but Belli’s being her powerful self, holds him in place and dishes the gos out all the more. She is. persistant as all hell.

There is a moment of bisexual solidarity between father and daughter as they fistbump and Harold, now adapting well to his current situation, reveals that he had been hiding money from the kids. In special mounds around the yard.

When asked why not invest in a bank, he basically states that he distrusts the banking system.

Further revelations come that Harold was not only aware of Peppery Pete, but had had business dealings with him. Included, but not limited to, the Orc Strength Potiosn that Belli had almost gotten into fisticuffs over with Pete for.

Harold fucking loves that funky little gnome.

As Harold goes to inspect the kitchen, Belli Sends a message to Mournimar, sharing with him that the potion had worked and that they will soon return to Crystalgate. Mournimar is absolutely radiant about this and informs Luctan of this fact.  AND that she spilled the tea on him and Ficus. Which simply befuddles Luctan. That seemed like a private matter at the time, didn’t it? 

 All the while Malak meditates.

Belli wants to and proceeds to search for the money mound. She finds the spot of her own destined mound. The one that her dad bullshited her 4 cats had peed there and if she touched it, she’d die.

There were more, of course.  A spot under the swingset and a straight up mound no one ever questioned.

Lore reveal, but the Twins had come up with the Cannonball move.

Bob recalls that the largest spell slot of healing was used back then to fix them up. So much damage.

After a call to ol’ Pete, from Harold, the gnome comes on over through a magical gate.

The two men share a reunion and  Sick burns are had by Pete, who reveals that the combined price for the remaining four potions is 800 gold. Money, which to Belli is basically chumpchange as she makes the transaction with the entusiastic old gnome, who bamfs back and forth one more time with the set of potions.

Belli has cash money. Harold is proud, he doesn’t care how.

As they make their business transaction, she makes peace with the Peppery one.

And then?

“Oi, get your ass down here, we have the other potions!” Belli casts sending at Ficus.

Soon after the trio proceed to fix the remainder of their siblings, leaving out Rona, due to the injuries to her stoney form.

It doesn’t take long, until their four siblings are free as well.

Belli approaches the confused and honestly amazed quartet. “Hi guys, don’t freak out. You’ve been stoned for the past 5 years.” To see their little sister, the youngest of the bunch, all grown up and changed as she was is an unreal experience.

But to also see Ficus there confirms it all the more that this wasn’t an illusion. There is almost an altercation there, if not for Belli stepping in yet again and defending him.

In her own way.

No holds are barred in her verbal defence.

Tears begin to flow from everyone. As emotions are on the high. Except for Keemis. Keemis is too cool to cry.

These people need to sort their lives out, man.

There’s a questi on the war. As at the time, the war was still going on.

The war... the war’s over, of course.  Aetorumia won the war.Ficus, having fought for his country, confirms this from the direct witness perspective. It was not a pretty sight.

After another awkward silence, the family now catch up once more, beginning to plan on how to re-instate themselves in Crystalgate as the top musical family.

Shit’s wild.

At some point Belli informs them all about the possibility of meeting the Cultbusters. And Morgan. And Archie. At the mention of the cat, it becomes pretty obvious pretty quick that the Narahs fucking love cats.

And as Belli, Harold and Ficus take off to Crystalgate with Kevin and Killer and the four other Narahs begin strategising and building the constructs for their grand return to popular culture...

The session comes to an end.

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[goddamnitdazai]

Chasing Moonlight | Chuuya

{ this is a prologue of my new multichapter series for patrons only. I’m uploading this portion for anyone interested in continuing to read the series & to show what work you’d be supporting if you do become one along with multiple one shots posted the last few months to patrons only--> patreon } {Prologue} --                                            11.02 -- Twenty Water; Yokohama’s breathtaking attribute that set the city apart from bustling Tokyo. Just as populated and just as thriving but the endless navy waves gave the illusion of privacy from the rest of the world. Possible danger lurking just beneath the surface and in the middle of the night it was an escape. To a new life, or to end a current one in a peaceful slumber as they float down to the bottom never to return. Everyone knew two things about what resided in Yokohama. The port mafia and the ocean. Frightening criminals blending in with the populace. Ability users--- but nobody could tell until there was a reason and then the explosion would detonate, and it still hadn’t become widespread knowledge unless you belonged to that section of the inhabitants. Every so often the road would vibrate and black smoke the shape of a great beast would eat through buildings like the city build them out of paper. Once, a few years back, there had been a great dragon--supposedly. It felt more like an earthquake, and then it was never mentioned again.

What outsiders didn’t see was how breathtaking the city skyline was glimmering beneath a vibrant moon. Reflecting pigments of gold against the water as it ripples and breaks apart in white-capped waves beneath the speedboat shooting vibrations up your shins. How the wind smelled like salt water with a hint of plum sake and, despite the ownership clearly stated in the name, the mafia didn’t exactly care about people using their ports for recreation. Unless there was something to gain from breaking in. However, the speedboat wasn’t theirs and the liquor wasn’t either. No harm no foul. They were the only ones with a solid reputation to protect in this city anyway. Besides, borrowing was a better word. You had every intention of returning it at some point. Unless it crashed--both were substantially possible outcomes to this little adventure. Vodka, something easier to get than the sake you wanted, but it warmed you in the fall breeze. Numbed your throat, your mind. Sometimes it was easier to accept denial rather than kid yourself into thinking the world’s cruelty was something that could be combated. Luck. Skill. Both relatively hard to acquire. Like the boat--practice made perfect. Music drifts behind you from the speaker wired to Ido’s phone. He’d lose it eventually in the water but he was too drunk and in love with the girl at his side (whoever she was) to care. You smile and inhale the calming scent of salt water letting it comb through your hair wind throwing the long strands wildly behind you. Twinkling lights mimicking a fire set off on the coastline curving along the shore. Ido wouldn’t risk the docks, too stupid. Cameras. Since childhood he tended to tie up the loose ends of your plans while you set them off without knowing the second step. Or third. Or fourth. Balance. That’s what the two of you brought to each other. Soon he would go off to Tokyo. If you weren’t so in love with Yokohama you’d tag along. But nothing beat this view. Inhaling sharply you plop down on the front of the boat empty bottle rolling somewhere under the seats. Both hands on the railings lining the edge of the boat to keep you from twisting sideways into the water as it draws near the coastline. Nearly midnight and not a soul on the beach. Drunkenly you slide off once the boat jerks on the ascending ocean floor leading to the beach. Shoes in hand it takes only a few minutes to wade through the cold water. It jolted you awake. Stole the breath from your lungs and replaced it with minty, ice cold exhales of smoke into the open air. A passing glance. You smile at Ido before parting ways. He and...what was her name? Someone, walk off to a section of beach with lounge chairs to watch the stars. You, left alone wandering up the stairs towards a strip of late night restaurants and bars. Drinking without company was nothing to be afraid of, and people watching in these kinds of places gave the city more personality than one could hope. Most weren’t incredibly crowded, mid-week, salarymen inhabited most of the barstools and tables. Keeping to themselves and their company. Some laughing, some complaining. A few drinking faster than the bartender can pour. Shallow lighting casts the bar in amber leaving the edges of the place shadowed if someone wanted to remain unseen. Music just high enough to hear but low enough you didn’t need to shout. Not that there was anyone to talk to and the red head with the cigarette seemed to be doing enough loud-speaking for that half of the bar to begin with. Attractive, from his profile. You walk behind him noticing how sharp his eyes were at your movement, though the conversation never pauses. Ice blue; different. Wordlessly you plop on a barstool near the corner in his view enough to watch but far enough away you couldn’t hear as much of the conversation. His cheeks were tinted pink already. Cute. Your heel knocks against the wood of the bar, eyes drifting close to listen to the music. Thumb already scrolling through random shit on your phone. His wine glass empties rather quickly; preemptive strike. The sound he makes when the bartender says his next glass is paid for makes you accidentally knock your glass against your teeth. Unexpected, a man that looked like that had to be on the receiving end of endless wine and attention. The wood creaks beneath his weight as he spins to watch you from his peripheral. Did the man next to him just say something about lemons? The ice ball rattles in the glass as more vodka is poured on top. Orange juice afterwards. “Oi,” his voice carries with precision and grace prompting you to turn immediately, “if you’re buying then you shouldn’t be drinking alone.” He states moving his jacket from the empty stool next to him. Blue eyes glossy, but that gaze has you hypnotized. Pathetically quick, too. “I didn’t want to interrupt.” You answer simply, but your legs are already moving. He grins as you sit, swiveling in his stool one elbow propped on the bar top hand already holding a lit cigarette. “Yeah? Being that forward sends mixed signals.” Oh, he didn’t like it slow. Good. Slow got annoying and the night was beautiful. You return his smirk and sip on your drink one leg thrown over the other. “I hate small talk,” the empty glass lands on the bartop softly, “______.” Bills are thrown on the table, enough to cover the entire bar’s drinks. “Chuuya.” He replies eyes skimming you up and down. “I guess we don’t need to waste time then.”  He slips out of the seat first offering you a gloved hand. Unexpected politeness, it made him all the more interesting. You slide off with the help of his hand, heels clicking on the hardwood as you walk towards the door feeling the woosh of air at your side from his jacket being thrown over his shoulders. Hat set on carefully, perfectly you notice, covering a decent portion of striking red hair curling around his face. “Hotel work?” He asks, opening the door for you. Gentleman. More interesting given his loud drunkenness before hand. The scent of pinot noir still lingers as you pass by him into the cool night air. “Yeah, I like walking at night anyway.” You smile at him and push your hands in your pockets. Chuuya walks besides you keeping pace head tilted up to admire the towering buildings surrounding the two of you. Yokohama found its true beauty between midnight and sunrise. “Not afraid of the dark eh?” He smirks, eyes slanting to the side to watch your reaction. You laugh softly and shake your head, shoulder bumping into him when you misstep. One arm shoots out instantly to flatten along the small of your back keeping you up right. “Good.” Chuuya comments pulling a pack of cigarettes from his jacket pocket tilting them in his hand. “You mind?” Another shake of your head fingers extended out. “Share?” You ask with a smile. Chuuya’s grin spreads as he stops and pulls you out of the center of the sidewalk towards him. Planting the cigarette in his lips eyes focused on you in front of him rather than the orange flicker of the lighter. Butterflies ripple at the pit of your stomach, the smell of his cologne overpowers the autumn air and it’s delicious. Subtle, memorable. Chuuya’s stare seeps through your skin and sticks in your chest. Like watching a star burst to life or a comet light up a pitch black sky. Gentle beauty that both comforted and hit a chord in your chest; there was something hidden beyond the starlight staring back at you, glowing in a color that mimicked the depths of a tropical ocean. The only thing that tears you from his captivating gaze is the cigarette being flipped and placed at the center of your lips. “See something you like?” Chuuya asks teasingly, keeping his hand planted firmly on your back as he pulls his own out. Eyes flitting back to you orange flame licking the air before it ignites the tip. “I wouldn’t have spent money on a drink if I didn’t.” You retort, smoke billowing through your lips as you speak. Chuuya chuckles and clicks his tongue head tilting sharply to the left. Two fingers pointing towards a highrise in the distance. “I’ll repay the favor then.” Chuuya’s voice drops. Thunder striking the earth. Goosebumps pebble up your spine. Oh. It could be that kind of night. You bite the inside of your bottom lip and turn with him continuing your walk. This side of the city had the most late night activity, and was heavily crowded despite it being past midnight. But, Chuuya walked like he owned the city. Shoulders back and head held high, confidence oozing from his features. That fucking smirk made your heart backflip into your throat. He catches you looking, every time, and it rises higher. Cocky. Fuck, it looked good on him too. Idle chatter, even though you didn’t want to bother with it. Didn’t need to rather, but this felt more natural despite both of you knowing how this would start and end. Chuuya’s laugh was addicting. Sweet, and he kept his attention directly on you. Guiding you with ease down the sidewalk and through the crowds of people. Ashing in corners then tossing the butt in proper tray. Little things made him more appealing, as trivial as not littering sounded it was something in the way he purposely timed his drags. Pointing smoke away as he exhaled still listening intently to whatever retort you had for his comment. Like he was keeping the city’s feelings in mind while he smoked on its sidewalks. A gentleman with the mouth of a sailor and the simper of a devil. Beauty--lightening caught in a bottle. Chuuya opens the door for you ushering you in like a proper date would.Brilliant, bright light from the chandelier glimmers over the marble beneath your feet. Swirls of golds and whites following each step in a trail of glistening sheen. Alcohol prompt you to spin just to see if the fragmented glitter followed. In the backdrop Chuuya smiles unintentionally, hand reaching out to secure itself over your wrist. “Elevators this way.” He spins you left completely bypassing the check-in counter. Though, the man at the counter pays no mind to the pair of you walking towards the elongated hallway housing three elevators on each side meant only for hotel guests. You stare dumbly at the doors decorated in faux gold lace on the front skewing the reflection of the mirrors underneath. “What is it you do to have connections to a place like this?” You ask curiously, rocking on the back of your heels. Chuuya bites the side of his cheek. “Finance.” He responds simply, lacing his fingers with yours to pull you into the elevator hand slapping the button before anyone else can join. His teeth glint under the overhead lighting as he pulls your chest flush with his. “And what do you do?” Steal cars. Drive them to Tokyo to sell in Europe and America. “Receptionist at a dealership.” You tilt your head up bumping your nose against his breath warm and fanning down his bottom lip. Chuuya’s eyes snap down to your lips then retreat back to match your gaze. “You haven’t kissed me yet.” “I should fix that then.” Your breath barely escapes your lips before he’s kissing you. Nibbling your bottom lip to pull out a surprised gasp and let his tongue slip in. Soft, teasing. Rolling along the roof of your mouth and behind your teeth. The world spins. All the air stuck in your lungs is ripped out leaving you dizzy. Head rush. Shit, this was too good too fast. When you break to breathe the air is electrified. Snapping tension and heat. Your fingers curl over his shoulders pulling him in for another kiss. And another. Until your lipstick is smeared and he’s tugging you out into the hallway, stumbling back against the wall with his arms cinched around your waist. Biting at your bottom lip, your jawline, back up to your ear then cycling back to your lips. “Room.” He murmurs between nips, spinning with ease on his heels to walk you both backwards down the hallway. When the fuck did he get a key? You follow regardless. Nails sinking in to the back of his jacket unwilling to part with his body. The heat from his skin seemed to engrave itself in yours, warming your blood. Flickers of moonlight streak white from the far window at the end of the hallway through the blinds, painting a stripe over his shoes as Chuuya’s back hits the door. “Card.” He grates, pulling away reluctantly with a dark chuckle. “You look a mess.” He teases, using his sleeve to wipe the lipstick from your chin. “I didn’t expect to be mauled I would have worn my expensive one.” You smirk and nip at his fingers when they pass over your lips, tongue darting out to wet the tips. Chuuya’s eyes darken. Ocean blue beginning to swirl in a hurricane of navy and moonlight. The door opens with a sudden jerk, Chuuya’s hands wrapping around your forearms to yank you inside before his foot kicks the door shut with a loud bang. The full moon hangs low in the sky. Blindingly luminous against the dark celeste sky framed by the arched window and painting the room in white gold. Chuuya leaves the curtains open letting the sky and the city illuminate the bed. Your hands reach his jacket first yanking it down his shoulders in haste while Chuuya merely stops in the center of the room letting you strip him. Kissing you between movements. Leaving his mark on your neck in fresh blossoms of red. Buttons bounce of the floor making the man laugh out loud. Vest thrown somewhere along with his now torn white shirt. Gloves strewn on the bedside and hat already placed on the furthers table near the door with his phone. “You have claws don’t you?” Chuuya purrs the words in your ear voice smoother than silk. You shiver; his grin cooks right. “It’s okay kitten, you can scratch me.”